The Bargain
6: The Love of Money
By Mr. Intel
Chapter Six — The Love of Money
August 5
Harry awoke to the sounds of china and silverware clinking downstairs as the Weasley family began to rise for the day. Ron was snoring lightly on his bed — a pleasant change from the normally high-volume noise he exuded. The sun was peeking through the orange curtains, casting a garish glow on the equally orange walls and Harry allowed himself a lazy stretch as he remembered the previous evening.
Harry and Ginny had barely made it back to the Burrow in time because after they were finished with Bill’s flat, Ginny made Harry Apparate them to Charlie’s. It was a bit trickier getting inside because they didn’t have a girlfriend to appeal to for help with the wards. They took almost thirty minutes trying to figure out the charms on the door before Ginny brilliantly suggested that they simply Apparate inside. They had discovered that there weren’t any anti-Apparation wards and they were able to pop into his flat with no problem.
The nature of the hexes they put on Charlie’s bedroom was less involved than Bill’s because of the nature of the two bachelor’s current domestic arrangements. They would, however, each have a definite problem upon awaking that morning, or more accurately, several definite problems.
When Harry decided it was time to go downstairs, he did so with gusto — happy at the prospect of seeing the results of their pranks. Clattering around the twists and turns of the many-storied staircase, Harry nearly ran into a startled Molly Weasley.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, clutching a pile of folded towels to her chest.
Reaching down slightly to Molly’s cheek, Harry gave her a peck and said, "Morning, Mum," and continued into the kitchen proper. He turned back and noticed that she was still holding tightly to the towels, but that she was also touching a hand to her cheek and had a slight smile on her face.
"Morning, Harry," Ginny said with a twinkle in her eye. She sat at the table in her dressing gown, the Daily Prophet folded in front of her, and an air of expectation that seemed to match what Harry found within himself.
"A very good morning to you, fair Ginny," Harry said as he sat next to her, earning a glance from Arthur, who had just followed Harry into the kitchen.
The Weasley patriarch took the Prophet from the table and sat opposite them, ruffling the paper noisily as he unfolded it. "You seem awfully chipper for this early in the morning, Ginny. Unless I’m mistaken, there’s some mischief about to befall one of us, isn’t there?"
With an angelic face, Ginny turned to her father and said, "I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about, Daddy. I’m just happy to be alive."
Arthur made a disbelieving grunt and focused on the paper. "Oh dear," he said and Harry watched his eyes quickly scan the front page. "Oh, my. It appears that your secret is out, Ginny."
Grabbing the paper from her father, Ginny pushed it out flat in front of her and Harry read the headline over her shoulder.
Boy-Who-Lived Finds Love or Headache?
In a surprise discovery by the Daily Prophet, it has been learned that Harry Potter is to be wed to Ginevra Weasley of Ottery St. Catchpole by her upcoming birthday or they will both be left barren and unable to legally wed anyone else. A senior Ministry official was quoted as saying, "The pair of them have to abide by an arranged marriage that was enacted under the Founding Decree of the Wizarding world." As of this article’s printing, the Wizengamot has stricken that part of the law pertaining to arranged marriages, but it seems too late for the famous Mr. Potter and his intended. The question remains, is he in love with his bride to be, or will he marry for honour, and not passion?
Ginny was slowly turning red as she read the paper, so that by the time Harry caught up to where she was silently mouthing the words, he half-expected steam to come pouring out of her ears. Instead, Harry grabbed the paper from her and handed it back to Mr. Weasley.
"Some things never change — the Prophet’s had it out for me for years," Harry said to no one in particular. Then turning to Ginny, he placed an arm around her shoulders and said, "I’m sorry this happened. It was inevitable, I suppose, but I had hoped it wouldn’t happen until after we’d been married."
Ginny grumbled, but her anger dissipated as she leaned into his embrace.
Arthur continued to look appraisingly at the two teens as Molly breezed into the kitchen and beamed at Harry. "I never got to greet you properly; good morning, Harry," she said, ruffling his hair as he was still wrapped around her daughter. With a contented sigh, she moved off to the kitchen and began sending plates of steaming food onto the table with her wand.
Ginny nudged Harry in the ribs. "What’d you do to Mum? I’ve not seen her that happy since Ron was made Prefect."
"I wager he’s finally treating her like she’s hoped ever since he showed up here five years ago," Arthur volunteered.
Harry smiled and nodded at his future father-in-law. "You saw, didn’t you?"
"I was coming out of the living room when you ran into her," Arthur answered. "You did right, son." He stood and clapped Harry on the shoulder. "I better go in to work and get ready for the onslaught of questions. The rumour-mill will be going full-tilt today."
"Bye, Dad," Ginny said and he was gone with a crack.
"So," said Ginny as Harry retracted his arm to begin loading up food. "Buttering up the in-laws, huh?" She, too, began to pile eggs and bacon onto her plate. "You don’t have to, you know? They’ve always liked you."
Harry fought off a flush of embarrassment and nodded. It was one of the only things he had ever counted on; something that had yet to fail him. No matter what the rumours had been, or what he’d done, the Weasleys had always loved him — and he numbered that among his most treasured possessions. "It’s not like that. I guess it’s what I should have been doing all along," he said quietly.
Just as Ron stumbled down the staircase, a loud crack echoed in the kitchen and Bill Weasley appeared, half-dressed, and decidedly angry. "Where are they?" he asked in a deadly voice. His wand was held tightly in one hand as he searched the kitchen. Across his forehead in odd-shaped bumps was the word ‘Insensitive’.
Ron stifled a laugh into his fist and said, "Are those..."
"Warts," Ginny said without the slightest hint that she had anything to do with Bill’s predicament. She took a small bite of toast and set it primly onto her plate.
"The twins?" Ron asked. Harry was wondering how many of the hexes Bill had managed to set off before Apparating to the Burrow. Well, he knew of at least one that was tripped.
"They’ll rue the day they were born!" Bill yelled, and then began to hobble towards the stairs — his legs appeared to be fused together at his knees and it took him a full minute to reach the first step. He stopped abruptly, still fuming and cursing under his breath, when Harry realised what his problem was — he couldn’t get up the steps.
Undaunted, Bill began to yell up the stairwell. "Get down here right now Fred, George! I know you did this to me and I want you to set me to rights!"
Molly walked out from the pantry and placed her hands on her hips. "What is the meaning of this?" When Bill shakily turned on his heels, Molly bit her lip to keep the laughing at bay.
"The twins aren’t here, Bill," Ginny said slowly, a gleam in her eyes. "But I don’t think they could have pulled off those hexes. It’s not their style."
Bill turned from his mum to his sister and goggled at her. "Not their style.... What are you playing at?"
Instead of answering, however, Ginny simply took a sip of tea and smiled at her brother.
"It was you!" he said finally, then looked at Harry. "And you!"
Harry felt a bubble of laughter start to form in his lungs and, despite the wrath of his future in-law, he couldn’t seem to feel afraid.
"The only thing I can’t figure out," Ginny said calmly, still not the least bit perturbed, "is how you were able to counter the bladder-buster hex." She wrinkled her nose, sniffing. "Never mind…"
At that moment, Harry noticed that Bill’s pyjamas looked decidedly wet, particularly along the legs, but that because his legs were sealed together, it was hard to notice.
Ron and Molly looked like they were watching a car wreck in slow motion, and the idea sent Harry’s resolve out the window. Laughing silently, Harry managed to choke out, "And the...three different types of...binding charms."
Bill blanched. "There were three?"
"Didn’t you notice your legs, Bill?" Molly asked before she returned to her cooking, seemingly unconcerned with her eldest son’s fate.
His mouth working soundlessly, Bill pointed at himself, then Harry and Ginny, and then his face lit up. "You aren’t going to know what’s hit you, little one. When I’m through with you, your prank will look like a first year in Charms class."
He pulled up his sleeves and pointed his wand at Ginny. As they’d planned, she didn’t react, so Harry cast a shield charm just as a beam of blue light shot out. It hit the shield, bounced over Bill’s head and left a smoking hole in the plaster behind him.
"I wouldn’t be so hasty, Bill," Ginny said smoothly. "Not only are there two of us and one of you, and never mind the fact that you and the others started this, but I know for a fact that Mum would be disappointed in you if she knew about the uh, arrangements at your flat."
Molly’s ears perked up at this and she walked back over to the table. "What’s this now, Ginny?"
"Nothing, Mum!" Bill said loudly. "Just a little joke Ginny and I share. Right?"
If Ginny’s smirk were any wider it would have split her face in two. "Of course, Bill. Just a little pink polka-dotted joke we use to keep each other on our toes."
She raised a meaningful eyebrow in his direction, as if to challenge his defiance, and he lowered his wand. "We’ll just keep this one to ourselves, then?" he asked.
"As long as you leave us alone, you can consider it forgotten, brother of mine."
Bill let out a relieved breath and Ron, followed by Hermione, sat at the table.
"Oh, and Bill, dear?" said Mrs. Weasley as she returned to the oven, not bothering to even look over her shoulder. "Make sure to fix that hole you made in the wall before you go."
Grumbling to himself again, he cast a repairing charm on the hole and left the kitchen with a loud crack.
Hermione turned to Harry and Ginny. "So what did I miss?"
Harry laughed again, now that the tension had passed and said, "Just a little payback."
Hermione giggled. "So that’s what you wanted the sneak spell for. You did a great job with the warts, by the way. I never would have thought of using it that way."
"Thought about what?" Ron asked. He must have been thoroughly interested in the question because not even the sultry smells of a hot breakfast deterred him from getting an answer.
"The hex, Ron," Hermione said. "I never would have thought to use warts instead of pimples." She took a piece of toast from the stack and began buttering it. "Much more appropriate for Bill, anyway."
Ron still looked perplexed, however. "How is that? It’s not like he’s a toad or something."
Hermione placed her toast on her plate and began to fill a glass with pumpkin juice. "It’s too obvious, Ron. The charm was set to activate when Bill did something that he’d given Harry a hard time about. Because he was being hypocritical, he was branded as an insensitive wart."
"Right in one, Hermione," said Harry. Ginny’s hand found his under the table and Harry’s grin returned. "You are the smartest witch of your age for a reason."
"But what did you use as a trigger?" she responded sincerely, as only someone who was forever inquisitive could be.
Ginny glanced at Harry and they blushed. "He had to be thinking about...erm," she stammered, "a girl — without clothes."
"Must’ve been while he was sleeping," Harry remarked. "He didn’t seem to even know he had them."
Ron seemed to consider this for a while and began to shovel eggs onto his plate. "Yeah, well, good job. I don’t fancy being on the receiving end of one of your hexes, Ginny, so I’ll just keep myself busy with Hermione."
Hermione swallowed her toast and with a steely glance, said, "That’s nice, Ron. I suppose I’m just a pleasant summer diversion for you, then? Is that it?"
With the swiftest back-pedal Harry had ever seen, Ron was instantly contrite. "No, Hermione, that’s not what I meant in the slightest. You’re much better than a summer diversion — you’re an all-year diversion."
Ginny pulled on Harry’s hand as they watched Ron dig his hole deeper and deeper. He bent his ear to her and she whispered, "How long before Charlie gets here?"
Harry smiled and turned to whisper back. "I reckon it’ll take him longer to get out of bed, but he won’t be able to Apparate with his arms like that. Expect him to come by Floo."
Ginny giggled and laid her head on his shoulder, their hands still clasped together under the table. "We make a good team, Harry," she said.
Five minutes later, after Hermione had stormed out, leaving her half-empty plate on the table, and Ron had finished both his and Hermione’s food, Harry wondered if Ron was going to be as insensitive as his brother, or if Hermione would be able to clue him in. He gave a contented sigh and barely noticed when the fireplace roared to life and another angry redhead spilled onto the kitchen floor.
*
Harry left for his last meeting with Tonks — doing what, Ginny still didn’t know, but she had all but decided that she didn’t mind the secrecy. Ron had been slated to clean the dishes, and because he hadn’t got the hang of many of the standard domestic spells, he usually did it faster by hand. He would therefore likely be in the kitchen for at least half an hour. This all combined to make a perfect time for Ginny to enlist Hermione’s help in choosing colours for the gowns, flowers, food, and all the rest of the things that Harry had made clear he was uninterested in being a part of.
Ginny sat on her bed surrounded by fabric swatches and moving pictures of floral arrangements while Hermione brushed out her long brown hair.
"So what do you think," Ginny asked, holding up two sets of swatches. "Ivy green and gold, or..." she looked at the tags once more, "warm butter cream and misty blue?"
Hermione set her brush down and ran her fingers through her hair. "What? No pink?" she said and sat on the floor at Ginny’s feet.
"You know I hate pink, Hermione. Besides, Harry hasn’t said a word about what he wants." Ginny placed the two sets of colours on the bed in front of her and gazed reluctantly between them. "I just don’t know what to do."
"It’s simple," Hermione said with a wink. "Find out what Harry’s favourite colours are and choose the opposite."
With a stifled giggle, Ginny said, "Yes. That would get his attention, wouldn’t it? His favourite colours are Gryffindor Red and Gold. It’s why I chose the gold, and my favourite is green."
Hermione took the gold and green swatches and held them up. "Then why are you worried about the other set? It sounds like you’ve got the perfect colours right there — they’re both your favourites and they match extraordinarily well."
Rolling her eyes, Ginny said, "Those others are what Mum wants. She not-so-subtly hinted that they were her preference."
Hermione stood and touched Ginny’s shoulder. "You need to do what you want, Ginny. This is your wedding day, not your mum’s. She’s had her wedding and now you get to have yours."
Nodding her head in agreement, Ginny felt her heart tugging her in the opposite direction. "I just want her to be happy."
"And you don’t think she’ll be happy that you’re marrying Harry?" Hermione asked with a laugh. "What colour dress she’s wearing will be the furthest thing from your mum’s mind when you walk down that aisle, I guarantee, Ginny Weasley."
"I suppose you’re right," Ginny relented. "If only Harry would help me out with some of this." She grabbed a nearby picture of a rotating set of white roses and shook it in front of her for emphasis.
It seemed that Hermione could tell that the flower arrangements weren’t really what was bothering Ginny.
"He’ll propose soon enough, Ginny," Hermione said reassuringly. "I’m positive you’ll enjoy the moment more if you’re caught off guard a little anyway, so bask in the not knowing for now."
Ginny eyed her friend carefully. "You know something, don’t you?"
Hermione walked lightly to the dresser and began to brush her hair again. "I...might know something."
With a frustrated groan, Ginny flopped backward on her bed. "I wish it was just the proposal," she lamented. "He hasn’t even kissed me!"
Even though she couldn’t see her, Ginny knew that Hermione’s eyebrows had just shot up on her forehead. "Is that right?" Hermione said. "I wonder why?"
"That’s what I’d like to know!" Ginny sat up again and watched as Hermione gathered her hair into a ponytail and began to tie it with a red ribbon. "We were so close yesterday — at Bill’s flat — I was sure he was about to kiss me and then...he just got up and acted like nothing had happened."
Hermione looked at Ginny in the mirror as she chewed on her lip. "Maybe he’s just as scared as you are?"
A frown curved on Ginny’s lips as she thought about this. "Maybe. Or maybe he’s playing with my emotions."
"I hardly think that’s likely," said Hermione. "He’s not stupid, but he’s not bright enough to be that manipulative. I mean, look at his C.V.* — Cho Chang, one kiss and one date that went down in flames. Not exactly the signature of a boy who plays with girl’s emotions."
Unable to resist, Ginny let out a small laugh. "I suppose not. Still, I wish he’d get on with things. I know he likes me, Hermione — I can see it in his eyes — and he’s bound to know that I like him..."
"Have you told him?" Hermione asked. "How sure are you that he knows you like him? Especially after your crush went away."
Ginny thought back to their first date, how he had looked at her that day and how they had been around each other since. The subtle hand-holding, the comfortable way that they had walked and talked together, and the definite fluttering in her stomach that plagued her with happiness and frustration — all told her that she was falling deeper in love with Harry. But what if he didn’t feel the same? What if he was just being noble for her sake?
Pinning her friend with a stern look, Ginny said, "I don’t know how sure I am, but you can bet I’ll find out."
*
That afternoon, Tonks and Remus accompanied Harry to the Burrow after his last dance lesson and waited for him to shower and dress before they left with Ginny to go to the village.
Harry found himself suddenly nervous as they waited in the living room for Ginny to make an appearance. It wasn’t their first date, but because they were going to the cinema, he would be expected to pay for their tickets, perhaps buy her some popcorn...it just seemed overly formal. He wondered -- if the threat of Voldemort hadn’t been a part of his life, or if there wasn’t an arranged marriage looming over them — if they had been given a chance at a normal relationship...Harry couldn’t help but think that taking a pretty girl to the cinema would be the scariest thing he’d have had to face in his seventeen years of life.
Ginny appeared in the doorway as Harry ruminated and Tonks and Lupin stood to leave. His eyes fixed on the petite redhead as soon as she walked into the room and his breath hitched involuntarily as the sight.
She was dressed in a simple Muggle outfit that Hermione must have lent her, and Harry was sure that the way it conformed to her body was made possible by a fitting charm — Hermione was built too differently for any of her clothes to fit Ginny properly. Ginny’s top was a light cotton fabric that ended at her elbows and the off-white colour offset her normally pale skin. Her tan skirt hung below her knees and was loose enough to allow her some level of movement, but Harry wasn’t particularly interested in the skirt, his gaze was riveted on her legs.
"I’ll take it from the way your tongue is hanging out of your mouth that you like what you see?" asked Remus with a chortle.
Nodding dumbly, Harry said, "You look fantastic, Ginny."
She walked over to him and took his hand. "You look good, too, Harry." They beamed at each other for a moment before Remus cleared his throat behind them. Harry led her to the door and out into the front garden, their escorts close behind.
*
The walk to the village was uneventful as there were no people on the narrow dirt carriage path that connected many of the cottages to the main road. Once inside the village proper, Harry noticed several small shops advertising meats, cheeses, beer, groceries, antique furniture, and even a small bric-a-brac store. The simplicity of life in the country was appealing to Harry, who had grown up in the city all his life.
As they walked hand in hand, Harry wondered if that simplicity had ingrained itself in Ginny as well.
The theatre itself was as old and worn as the rest of the buildings in the area, but captured a certain charm that Harry found alluring. There were only two movies playing. One was a recent release, which featured two men in dark suits and sunglasses.
"Not that one," Ginny said at once. "I don’t fancy that odd American humour."
The other one had a small girl surrounded by a dozen newly-hatched geese. "But that one," Ginny cooed, "is perfect for a date."
Harry thought the first one would be more entertaining, but wasn’t about to argue with her. There were just some things that weren’t worth the fight, and which movie to watch wasn’t one of them.
They approached the ticket counter and Harry was pleased to note that Tonks and Remus stayed an appreciable distance back. Having minders was one thing, but having them ever-present would have been too much for Harry and, he assumed, for Ginny as well.
"Two for Fly Away Home, please," Harry said to the attendant and was about to hand him a ten pound note, when Ginny took out some money for her purse.
"Let me pay for mine," she said suddenly.
The tickets printed and Harry shook his head. "No, that’s okay, I don’t mind paying."
"No." Ginny was adamant. "It’s not okay. I need to pay for mine."
Harry was surprised at her vehemence. Maybe she was testing him? He knew he was supposed to pay for their date, according to Hermione’s research anyway. He had at least read some of the books and research notes that she had brought back from the ministry the other day. The wizard was to assume all financial burdens during the courting period, though he couldn’t recall if it was one of the punishable offences if he didn’t.
"Ginny, it’s my duty to pay for our date," Harry said, taking a hold of her hand to prevent her from paying and handed his money to the attendant. The tickets and his change came back through the tray along with a rather odd look from the cashier.
When Harry looked back to Ginny as they walked into the theatre, he was more than a bit surprised to see a tear running down her cheek. "Ginny? What’s the matter?"
She didn’t look at him, but kept her hands folded across her chest as they handed their tickets to the usher. Once inside the dimly lit theatre, Harry led them to the middle of the seats and waited for her to sit before he turned and hesitantly reached out a hand to her arm. "What did I say? Was it about the tickets?" Harry asked tentatively.
With her head turned to one side so Harry could only see her profile, Ginny nodded once, but still didn’t speak.
"Look," Harry said in what he hoped was a soothing way. "I’m sorry.... I just...thought it would be the right thing to do."
She sat stiffly in her seat and didn’t respond to any of his entreaties, so at last, he said, "How about I get some popcorn and a couple of fizzy drinks?" He smirked a little and added, "They say you can’t enjoy the movie properly if you don’t have some buttery popcorn and a bladder-busting beverage."
Much to his relief, she managed a small grin, but bit her lips and it instantly disappeared. He had hoped the reference to one of the hexes they had used yesterday on her brothers would have cracked her stony exterior. She nodded again and Harry hesitated before he got up, completely at a loss as to what to say.
An inattentive concessions worker had burned the popcorn, so he had to wait for another batch to pop before he was able to return to his seat. Something must have happened in his absence, however, because Ginny was no longer scowling or sitting stiffly in her chair.
"Here’s your drink, Ginny," Harry said softly, handing her the large cup.
Her eyes bugged for a second before she took a long sip. "Thanks," she offered. "I just...never mind."
Harry stared at her for a long while as she munched on popcorn and sucked on her straw. "I honestly don’t know what I did to upset you, but when you’re ready to talk to me about it, I’ll be here."
Their eyes met for a brief second before hers dropped to the tub of popcorn between them and she nodded. "Okay."
As the lights dimmed and the movie started, Harry looked over his shoulder and noticed Remus give him a questioning glance; Harry could only shrug in response.
*
Ginny was torn. Harry had been a perfect gentleman the entire afternoon and had treated her like a queen. But the way he had insisted on paying for their tickets gave her pause. Her conversation with Hermione that morning played in her mind over and over as the movie, likewise, played out on the screen. Duty or love?
Was Harry courting her out of duty, much like he said it was his duty to pay for the tickets? Maybe she was just reading too much into what he had said, but that single nagging question wouldn’t leave her alone.
When the movie finished and they began to walk back to the Burrow, Harry tried to hold her hand and Ginny let him, but she found herself wondering if he did it because he was attracted to her, or if it was the right thing to do. Did his head swim with emotion when they touched each other, like hers did? When she was close to him, did his heart beat faster the same as hers when he came near?
They arrived at the bottom of the inside stairs where Tonks and Remus bid them farewell and Apparated away. Ginny thanked Harry and ran up to her room, where she knew her emotions would pour out of her like a sieve, and she couldn’t let Harry see how much he was affecting her — not yet.
*
Harry was beyond confused. Everything had started off well as they walked to the theatre. Ginny seemed happy and as pleased to be with him as she ever had. Then after the incident at the ticket window, something had changed. It was as if a switch had been thrown and Harry was at a complete loss at how to explain it.
After Ginny went up to her room, Harry retired to the sofa for the evening until it was time to go to sleep, mulling over in his mind how he could have prevented her bad reaction.
As nine o’clock turned into ten, a sleepy Harry walked morosely upstairs, and paused by Ginny’s room to listen, seeking some new revelation on what he should do for her. When no flashes of insight came, he continued up to the room he shared with Ron.
Swinging open the door, he stopped in mid-step and his jaw dropped. On Harry’s camp bed, without a care in the world of anyone seeing them, Hermione was straddling Ron’s lap and snogging him for England. In a fit of morbid fascination, Harry wondered how it would be to likewise be engaged with Ginny.
Finding his wits, Harry backed hastily and quietly out of the room and closed the door as gently as he could manage. He grabbed a pillow and blanket from the hall linen closet and made his way back to the sofa. It was going to be a long night.
*
August 6
Ginny awoke in the pitch black of her room after falling off to a fitful sleep. The usual sounds of Hermione’s breathing didn’t reach her ears and when she went to check on her, discovered that the brunette wasn’t in her bed. Curious, Ginny crept downstairs to find out what was going on.
The lights were out and she didn’t hear a thing from the kitchen. Ginny padded over to the window and peered outside, clutching her dressing gown to her body. There were no lights on and no movement outside, so she assumed that Ron and Hermione had likely fallen asleep under a tree after a moonlit walk.
Awake and still upset at her blemished date with Harry, Ginny walked into the living room and stopped dead when she found Harry lying on the sofa. His hair was mussed, his glasses were folded on the table next to him, and the thin blanket he was using had been all but tossed onto the floor.
With a sigh, Ginny walked over to where he slept and looked down on his unguarded face. Something pulled on her heart as he breathed deeply through his mouth. He was really quite perfect and she decided that she couldn’t resist any longer.
She knelt on the carpet and leaned against the sofa. Her arm came up and rested on his chest and slowly, carefully, she pushed his fringe off his forehead, revealing his scar. Ginny’s fingers automatically and rhythmically twirled his hair as she stared at every inch of his face. From his long, black lashes, to his round cheeks and solid chin.
His breathing hitched then evened out and Ginny lowered her lips to his forehead, relishing in this stolen moment, painfully aware that she still felt hurt and a little afraid for their future. A lock of her hair pulled loose and fell on the pillow next to his head.
As she drew back, Harry’s dark, green eyes stared back at her.
"Hi," he said quietly, shyly. "I was just dreaming about you and here you are."
Ginny blushed, but this time, didn’t try to fight it off. "I’ve never stopped dreaming about you, Harry."
His face remained impassive, but his eyes searched hers with an intensity that frightened her. "You’ve always loved me, haven’t you?" he asked. "And you still do."
Unable to speak, Ginny simply nodded and moved her fingers from his fringe to his face.
"I’m sorry," he whispered, mirroring her movements by putting his hand in her hair. "For what happened last night. I don’t know what I did, but I don’t like it when we fight, and I’ll do anything to keep from hurting you again."
Ginny wanted to tell him she’d forgiven him and that she was over it, but her throat wouldn’t work. Looking in his eyes, she saw that same spark of something that she’d seen before, on the swing, only this time it was so powerful and deep that she couldn’t deny it or rationalize it away..
"I want to love you, Ginny," he continued. "And I will, because you’re funny, and smart, and...beautiful." He swallowed and pushed his fingers further into her hair, until they wrapped around the base of her neck. "If you’ll let me into your life...into your heart, I will love you as you deserve."
Finally able to speak, Ginny asked, "How?" Her voice broke and she started again. "How can you know you’ll fall in love with me?"
Harry didn’t answer, but a steady pressure on the back of her head made her dip lower and she didn’t resist. This time when her eyes fluttered closed, she wasn’t left wanting. Their lips came together and at first, Ginny was disappointed by the tentative manner in which he kissed her, as if he would break her if they pressed harder. Then as they tried again, the hesitation was replaced with a deep longing — a need that would never be satisfied by simple kissing — and it terrified her.
Harry must have felt it, too, because he broke off at the same time she did. "That was..."
"Amazing," she said, a happy grin spreading on her face. Despite her fear, Ginny knew that Harry would not mistreat her, and it was slowly replaced by trust and hope.
"Yeah," Harry agreed, his eyes unfocused and altogether intoxicating to behold.
"But I think we need to practice it a bit or we’ll have a horrible time at our wedding."
Harry nodded. "Very true. I wouldn’t want to embarrass my bride-to-be on her wedding day."
She leaned over him again, this time pushing up on her knees for more leverage, and lost herself in Harry’s warm embrace. Although he hadn’t said it out loud, there was no longer any doubt in Ginny’s mind about how he felt for her. Even in her limited kissing experience, Ginny knew that one didn’t kiss like that if there wasn’t some kind of feeling behind it, and a thrill of excitement shot up her spine at the thought of all the kissing they would be able to do in the future.
* C.V. is the abbreviation for Curriculum Vitae, or to us non-Brits, a resume. Thanks again to Art and Kokopelli for their assistance, and to Sherry for her polishing work.