Are you lonely? Cause I’ve been lonely.
“I like your hair,” Harry murmurs, flicking
the ends of it with his thumb and forefinger. The flowery scent he once
discovered at the Burrow and revisited in potions class wafts towards him, and he figures
it must be her shampoo or her perfume. She glances up with an amused expression
and rubs his head roughly, messing up his untidy black hair even more.
“I like your hair,” she replies with a
saucy grin, settling back against his chest. They’re sitting on a red window
seat that overlooks the lake. The best thing about this window seat is that
there’s a bright red curtain that they can draw, creating their own tiny
private room. It’s just big enough for two. He smiles down at the top of her
head, which rests on the centre of his chest. Her thick red hair splays out all
over him as she’s lying between his legs with her hands resting on top of his
knees. He’s propped up his right leg so she doesn’t fall off, and she’s been
drumming on it absently for the past five minutes.
He grabs at the drumming hand and holds it
tightly while she lets out a giggle and struggles for a moment before letting
it stay clasped in her own much smaller and softer grip. She looks up at him
again with a different kind of grin and pokes his right lens. “I like your
This surprises him; he has never seen glasses
as something that a girl might find attractive. No one’s ever said anything
like that before, he thinks to himself, casting a glance down at the pretty
redhead sitting between his legs. “I like your eyes,” he says, thinking that
it’s probably the right thing to say because her mouth forms another kind of
grin moments later. He feels like this smile belongs to him and him alone. Her
lips curve in a way that can’t be controlled or called upon but springs up at a
time of pure delight.
This seems to have become way too simple.
He’s never been able to be with a girl this easily before besides Hermione, but
she is a special sort of sister and looks after him with the kind of caring
that most only receive from family members. That’s what they have become to
him, a different sort of family, but family all the same. For the first time in
his real, un-potion-induced life--despite all the deaths, the terrible childhood
and the looming threat of his own demise--Harry Potter feels like luck has
“What is it?” Ginny asks, and he realizes
that the expression on his face must be contemplative.
“You know, Ginny, it’s just that…well, I
don’t know how to say this, but…” He shoots her a quick glance and grins. “I
really, really… like your nose.”
She laughs aloud this time, and he can tell
that he had her in suspense for a fleeting moment. She twists around in his lap
and leans up, placing a lightning quick kiss on his lips. As she settles back against
his chest, he buries his head in her neck and wraps his arms around her waist,
pulling her close until his cheek touches hers. He doesn’t know how they came
upon this seated position, but it is quickly becoming his favourite.
He presses his lips against her cheek for a
moment, until her cool flesh heats up, and then hugs her tighter. Turning her
head slightly to meet him, she reaches out and cradles the back of her head
with her small hand. She strokes his cheek with her thumb as he stares into her
bright brown eyes, and he doesn’t want her to stop, but he knows that this is
just one of those things that she does to him that makes him lose
control. He pinches her waist on both sides, and she lets out a small giggle
and pulls his head towards her until they are kissing.
He likes kissing Ginny a lot more than
kissing Cho. Her lips are warm, comforting, but they hold many secrets and
surprises that he has slowly been unlocking as they spend more time together.
She pulls a fraction of a centimetre away and runs her tongue along his lower
lip, and he can tell she enjoys it when she makes his breath catch in his
throat. Sliding his hands up her back, he rests them behind her neck and runs
his thumbs along the rims of her ears. “I like your ears, too,” he mumbles, and
she kisses him on the cheek before turning back around and pulling his arms
around her tight.
“That was quite the practice today, Captain,”
she says after a moment, breaking the silence that he has discovered can be
comfortable when in the presence of the right person. He is confused for
a moment. Oh. Quidditch. “My calves are aching.”
He’d held a final team practice earlier in
the day for everyone to fly around together in celebration of the end of a championship
season. “It wasn’t supposed to be tough,” he says, wrinkling his eyebrows. She
is silent for a moment.
“It was,” she protests with a blunt edge to
“No. it wasn’t,” he retorts, and she sits up
and spins around.
“I think I’m a perfectly good judge of what
is and isn’t a hard Quidditch practice. I don’t even know why we were
practicing; we already won the cup.” As she says this she leans up against the
opposite wall of the window seat and brings her legs up to her chest, staring
at him with a raised eyebrow, her cheeks a little flushed.
“It was supposed to be a last team fly. I
thought you of all people would enjoy it.” He doesn’t understand, his thoughts
reeling. There’s no way this can be about Quidditch.
“You made us do laps,” she states
“Just because we already won doesn’t mean you
lot don’t need to keep up your good form for next season,” he protests. She
rolls her eyes. “I enjoyed myself.” He’s confused and stares at her for a
minute. She looked like she was having fun earlier that day.
“Well if that’s your idea of fun, I can’t
wait for our first date. Oh wait a minute; I have nothing to worry about,
because we’re not even dating,” she states, muttering a bit under her breath.
She shoves herself off the window seat with such force that she’s out
from behind the curtain before the impact of her words washes over him. When it
does, he tears out from behind the red velvet and lunges for her elbow. He
grabs the edge of her jumper and holds on.
“Ginny,” he says in a voice that
hopefully sounds calm. Inside he’s panicking. She tries to pull away from him,
but he grabs hold of her wrist with his other hand and turns her around. Her
expression is so fiercely vulnerable he momentarily blinks in surprise. He
hasn’t seen this look on Ginny’s face since she was twelve and couldn’t look
him in the eye. “You know I like you. We were just talking about it.” He
doesn’t understand as she crosses her arms and huffs at him.
“And you know I like you. How come I’m not
your girlfriend?” she demands, her red hair falling into her face.
“I thought you were, well, last time I
checked,” he says, baffled. All this kissing, hanging out, enjoying one
another’s company: he wonders what a relationship is if not what they’ve been
“Funny, you never mentioned that to me,” she
spits back, hugging her arms around herself so tightly that he thinks she might
break something. He’s taken aback by her comment. Isn’t ‘girlfriend’ something
that’s implied? Apparently not. “I mean, we’ve been hanging out and snogging
for three days, and you keep telling me you like me so much and all of these
things…I just…” She stops for a moment, and he can tell she’s thinking of the
right words to say. “I’ve liked you for a long time, you know I have, but I’m
never going to be a quick snog for any guy, no matter who it is.” She’s staring
at him now, most of the discomfort drained from her eyes, and he sees that
another emotion is gripping her: defeat.
He blinks at her in surprise. “I didn’t know
I was supposed to ask. I mean, with Cho there was a Hogsmeade visit so that was
easy, I just sort of thought the girlfriend thing was erm… undeclared.” He
shakes his head in embarrassment, and she’s still staring at him with an
eyebrow slightly raised. “So I guess I’m an idiot.” He pauses awkwardly,
grasping at straws. “I have a question for you, though,” he says, racking his
brain for a good way to get out of this mess.
“Will I be your girlfriend?” Ginny asks
sarcastically, a pink tinge of anger, scepticism and embarrassment covering her
“No,” he says, and she throws her arms up in
the air in exasperation.
“Well, go on then.”
“Can I be your boyfriend?”
He can tell that she’s trying hard not to
laugh as he closes the distance between them. “This means that you’re my
girlfriend,” he says, futility embracing his struggle to contain his smile. He
figures he deserves the punch that she instantly delivers to his arm.
“Oh shut up,” she says, embarrassed and
trying not to look too pleased. She fails, and even biting her lip can’t stop
the smile that spreads across her face. “It’s not my fault you’re thick.”
He decides not to dispute the point. “Anything
else that I’m forgetting?” he asks, smiling at the embarrassed redhead standing
in front of him.
“I think you’re forgetting that we have
another date at the window seat that started five minutes ago.”
Special thanks to PythonBlossom, Lady
Narcissa and Falling Damps for beta reading this for me!