You're gonna be bothered by how cool I am.

This is supa-filtered, just in case it's crap. [ETA: Public now.] I've never made a serious effort at fanfic before, but this has been in my head for several days. Perhaps the version in my head was better than this is. :P It's not titled because I hate those melodramatic fic titles.

It's H/G fluff-o-angst from Bill and Fleur's wedding reception. Here goes.


“Lovely ceremony”, Hermione said dreamily.

“Why does everyone always say that?”, retorted Ron, snapping her out of her unwonted romantic reverie.

“Because it’s true?”

Harry missed whatever flippant response Ron had for Hermione, because at that moment Ron’s sister Ginny entered the crowded room where the Weasleys and the Delacours were celebrating the marriage of Bill and Fleur. Ginny had been a rather reluctant bridesmaid, and rolled her eyes quite a bit at being asked, but Harry was grateful for the opportunity to see her in that shimmering gold gown, her flaming red hair falling gracefully to the middle of her exposed back.

Well – either grateful or infuriated. Harry still hadn’t decided which. The beast which had been sleeping while Harry was at the Dursley’s - and at a safe distance from Ginny - was now most decidedly awake. It had taken to stalking painfully around his chest, and at the moment it was jumping up and down in rage, like a toddler pouting because his mother won’t give him an ice cream.

Harry hastily looked away as Ginny turned in his direction, and as soon as her eyes found a different object, he risked another glance. She had taken a seat next to a brassy aunt of Fleur’s who, due to the abundance of firewhisky (Harry hoped), had been trying to chat him up earlier.

He thought that asking Ginny to dance would be an incredibly bad idea. No sense exposing himself to the temptation, Harry thought just as his body suddenly stood up of its own accord and began walking in her direction. He stared resolutely at the refreshment table, as if convincing himself that it was the reason for his stroll across the room, but his will was no match for the familiar flowery scent that stole over him as he passed the table where Ginny sat. Harry kept moving, but his mind was becoming dangerously intoxicated. He couldn’t stop himself thinking about Ginny’s warm lips, the perfect fit of her hand in his, and the way she giggled one heavenly afternoon as he sprinkled her belly with tiny kisses.

He shook his head, trying to dislodge the happy memories that were now causing him such pain, and suddenly turned back toward Ginny, pretending he had just noticed her presence. Asking her to dance was still a bad idea, but as Harry caught Ginny’s gaze he felt there was no choice in the matter.

“Would you--” he began with a croak before clearing his throat, “would you like to dance?”

Ginny smiled and her face was suffused with a warm glow. She nodded and rose, deciding not to take his hand as she followed him to the dance floor. A rather empty display of will power, she mused to herself, since a slow dance would require them to touch anyway. As Harry turned to her, she took a deep breath. His hand went to her waist, her hand went to his shoulder, and their free hands joined. Their eyes met and Ginny’s mind suddenly reeled with images of the few blissful hours they had spent together. Things they had done together and things they had not yet had a chance to do. Talking, laughing, kissing, touching – Ginny suddenly blushed.

“You look amazing,” Harry said somewhat breathlessly.

Ginny smiled. “You look rather handsome yourself.”

Harry suddenly forgot the promise he had been making to himself every day since Dumbledore’s funeral. “Ginny, listen, I – I can’t stop thinking about you. About us. About how badly I want to be with you and – and kiss you for hours until my lips are sore –“

“Don’t, Harry.”

“– and bury my face in your hair and pre–“

“Stop!”, Ginny said a little louder than she intended to. “Please.” She let go of him and walked determinedly away from the dance floor, continuing to walk until there was nothing but trees and the distant sound of the party. She was not surprised to hear Harry’s footsteps behind her, and she turned to face him, eyes blazing.

“So,” Ginny said with a slight tremble to her voice, “I’m good enough for a roll in the grass, but not for sharing your Super-Secret Mission.”

“Ginny–“

“I’ve got plenty of chaps who want me that way, you know! I don’t have to wait around to be your prize, just in case you survive!”

“I know you d–“

“And if you think I’m just going to sit at home and knit or something while everyone else is allowed to go out and fight for the people they love, then you’re out of your mind and you don’t know me AT ALL!” She was breathing heavily now.

“I don’t think that. In a million years, I’d never think that about you. I was looking at you in that dress, smelling that stuff you put in your hair, and those were the first things that came out of my mouth. It was stupid. I’m sorry.”

“I just wish you’d talk to me.”

“Well, you can see what a great success I’ve made of that so far,” Harry said with a smirk.

“I mean, I know I don’t get to be part of the inner circle with you and Ron and Hermione–“

“You shouldn’t think about it like that. It’s just – I promised him I wouldn’t talk about it with anyone else.”

“Dumbledore?”

Harry nodded. “I owe him that, at least.”

They stood in silence for several minutes before Harry spoke again. “You can’t imagine how much I want things to be like they were those few weeks before he died. That was one of the few times I can remember that I can point to and say ‘yeah, I was happy.’ I guess it’s what normal people get to feel every day. But I can’t have that while Voldemort is still out there. When he’s gone – if I’m still alive–“

Ginny put her hand to his lips. Harry felt an almost electric rush at her touch. He needed to show her how he still felt about her. He had to feel her lips against his. One more time, in case it was the last time. He leaned forward, close enough to feel her sweet breath.

She turned her head just slightly to reject his kiss, and his head drooped as he began staring intently at the ground. With a sad sort of smile, she took his face in her hands and pulled him closer, raising her lips to his forehead and kissing his scar.

She lowered her head so that she was looking into his eyes. “I love you,” she said softly, and turned to walk away.

Harry grabbed her hand before she could walk away. “What?”, she asked, turning back to face him.

“That’s the first time anyone’s said that to me.”

Ginny gave him a very serious look. “It won’t be the last.”

Harry let go of her hand and they walked away from each other. Ginny headed for the house, and Harry going back to the noise of the party hoping that Ron and Hermione had finished bickering. He felt a warmth that had nothing to do with the summer climate, and he wanted to feel it as long as possible.

“Oh, Harry!”. came Ginny’s voice, closer than Harry expected it to be.

“Yeah?”

“Have you found out where the other Horcruxes are?”

Harry stopped dead in his tracks, the warm feeling suddenly gone. “Who told you?”, he asked, and realized the answer before she gave it.

“My old friend Tom.”

This, Harry thought, was going to be complicated.