Fic Request Fulfilled for xannie_bellex
Title: Ornaments
Author: snuggle_muggle
Beta: carrickorourke
Rating: PG14
Word count: 5100 or so
Summary: It’s Christmas Eve and Harry gets to do something he’s never done before. It turns out to be even more fun than he expected.
Warnings: A little language, lots of snogging.
Disclaimer: Sadly, not mine. All characters are the property of the marvelous JK Rowling.
Author's Notes: I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. A little Harry/Ginny fluff is always fun!!
ORNAMENTS
Ginny opened her eyes immediately at her mum’s call up the stairs, smiling to herself as she realized what day it was. It was Christmas Eve, and that meant the day she had been awaiting for an entire week had finally arrived. Mail from her brother and his two best friends had been rare and when it had arrived, it was usually very vague, with just a few brief words assuring her mum and dad that they were all still alive and relatively well. This note really hadn’t been much different, except at the end there had been scribbled (after Hermione’s recognizably neat script) a P.S. in Ron’s handwriting “Coming C.E. Have Prezzies!” and there was a little smiley face at the end. Mum and Dad had pondered over that note for hours, wondering who C.E. was and where he was going, but Ginny had taken one look at it, laughed, and interpreted for her confused parents. “It means they’re coming on Christmas Eve, Mum, and Ron wants to make sure you’ve got presents for him - and presumably Hermione and Harry, too.”
Her mum had looked pole-axed for a brief second and then her face broke into the happiest smile Ginny had seen for four months. It seemed that since the day Harry, Hermione, and Ron had left, her mother had been in a continual state of fret, never able to really relax. Ginny thought she looked a lot older now than she had even a few months before at Dumbledore’s funeral. But when she smiled that smile, Ginny felt a tight coil of nerves loosen in her own gut and she knew she was probably smiling just as broadly as her mum. Harry was coming home!
Since then, of course, she had alternated between periods of extreme euphoria and total fear. The situation between Harry and her was still uncertain, even six months after they had officially “broken up.” She wasn’t stupid. She knew why Harry had wanted to end things, and she knew it wasn’t because he didn’t like her anymore. She didn’t understand exactly what the three of them were out doing, but she knew it had something to do with finding Tom Riddle and wiping him off the face of the earth, and she supported their efforts completely.
But at Bill and Fleur’s wedding, they had barely spoken. Harry seemed reluctant to even look at her, and the one time they had been forced to dance together had been awkward. Harry had been stiff in her arms, hardly even touching her, and had stared over her shoulder through the entire song. She had been angry, but realized Harry was trying to deal with things in his own way and she hoped to have plenty of time to convince him to change his mind about their being together. But the next morning they had been gone, and the opportunity to convince him was gone as well.
Now, with his arrival imminent, she planned to corner him and force him to listen to her. She had figured it all out, and she really thought her scheme would work. If it didn’t, she had a back-up. This basically entailed doing a full body-bind curse on him and talking at him until he realized she was right and was willing to profess his undying devotion to her and then engage in a very long snogging session, hopefully passionate enough to make steam come out of Ron’s ears if he saw them.
She glanced at her “secret weapon” and ran through the plan again in her head. It wasn’t complicated, but with Harry, timing and wording were everything. She needed to pick the correct moment and phrase her request exactly right. If she did that, she was fairly confident things would move along as expected and that by the end of the day, Harry and she would be back together.
She didn’t bother to grab her bathrobe before she went down for breakfast. Her mum had told her the night before that she was going to start the Christmas baking early so it wouldn’t get forgotten in the rush of preparations for the trio’s arrival that afternoon. That meant it would be hot in the kitchen and Ginny decided that eating a quick bowl of mush this morning before getting herself into the shower and making herself presentable could be done without the stifling heat of her purple fuzzy housecoat. She had her outfit for the day all laid out on her bedroom chair, knowing Harry would love the jumper and the way the jeans clung to her butt. He had mentioned the jeans once before, blushing in his totally endearing way as he complimented her. The jumper . . . Well, it had been Michael who had told her one winter’s day that “Blokes really like birds in tight jumpers, Ginny. They do great things for a bird’s chest, and they practically scream Touch Me!” Then he had tried to demonstrate exactly where said touching was supposed to occur, and Ginny had immediately introduced him to her infamous Bat-Bogey hex, combined with an all-over itching jinx, and a hand swelling curse just for good measure. Even though she now realized what a tremendously sexist remark that had been, she also realized he had been completely right about jumpers. And if Harry wanted to touch her, well, she wouldn’t complain. Not at all. And she wouldn’t find it necessary to hex, jinx, or curse him, either.
She practically skipped down the steps and burst into the kitchen, coming to a dead stop when she saw the room was full of people and felt every eye in the room turn toward her. She really only registered, however, one pair of eyes. One bright green pair. Harry! “Oh, hell!” she said, rather more loudly than she wanted, and she stepped immediately back through the doorway, turning to run up the steps again, not even pausing when she heard her mum call out to her. She threw herself into her room, leaning against the door for a moment both to catch her breath and to literally barricade the door against the horror outside. Harry had seen her in this! Her old pink nightgown that was too small, too worn, and too ugly to even be slightly sexy.
She took a deep breath and looked into her mirror, trying to be objective, seeing herself as Harry (and everyone else) would have seen her. It wasn’t a flattering image, and she felt tears start to well up, biting her lip to avoid sobbing. She could only hope that her sudden entrance into the room had so surprised everyone (Harry!) that they had barely registered her before she was gone again. She felt a faint stirring of anger at her mum. This had happened once before, six years ago, when she had come downstairs completely ignorant to the fact that Harry Potter, the beautifully tragic hero she had dreamed about for almost an entire year, was sitting at her breakfast table. It had humiliated her then, and if it were possible, she was even more embarrassed now.
There was a light knock on the door and Ginny groaned. Her mother would be all “sorry”s and “I-didn’t-think”s but that wouldn’t change the fact that once again, Ginny was made to look a fool. “Go away! I don’t want to talk to you!” There was silence from her mum and Ginny felt a stab of guilt. She really couldn’t blame anyone else for the laziness that had driven her downstairs in her pyjamas. So, before her mum’s feelings were really hurt, Ginny called out again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. Of course I’ll talk to you.” She turned the knob, opened the door, and then slammed it closed again when she realized it was Harry standing there.
“Uh, Ginny. I’m starting to get a complex here. Please open the door.”
“I, I, uh, need to put on my housecoat.” It was the first thing that came to mind, and the last thing she really wanted to do. She looked quickly at her beautiful clothes laid out for the day, and then sighed and picked up her fuzzy purple robe, wrapping it around herself and tying it closed as she opened the door again.
“Hi,” he said. Ginny thought this was a wholly inadequate greeting after four months of separation, but the little speech she had rehearsed didn’t come to mind either, so she responded with an equally simple,
“Hi, yourself.”
They looked at each other for a unending brief second before he spoke again. “Can, um, I come in?”
“Sure.” She stepped back and he stepped forward and suddenly he was in her bedroom and Ginny felt a little trill of excitement, even through the myriad of other emotions fighting each other for dominance. They both stared at each other. She tried to take in his entire appearance, trying to reassure herself that he was uninjured and whole, but her eyes kept snapping back up to his face, wanting to just absorb his handsome features and convince herself this was not a dream. She saw his gaze dart downward several times as well, and then their gazes would lock before they both looked away again. “This wasn’t what I had planned.”
“No, I gathered that.” She detected a slight smile behind his words and she bristled. He wouldn’t dare tease her, would he?
“Ron wrote you were coming on Christmas Eve!” She wanted to bite her tongue at the accusing tone in her voice, but she did feel truly wronged and wanted him to know it.
“It is Christmas Eve. The whole day is, you know. I mean, he didn’t specify an exact time.” The smile was still there, but the earnestness was there, too, and she knew he meant that more.
“But . . .” She conceded defeat. “True. Mum assumed you meant night, and I guess I just didn’t really think to question it.” She fiddled nervously with the sash on her housecoat and stared down at her bare feet, realizing suddenly how cold she was. “I guess I better get dressed, Harry. I’m sure Mum will need help downstairs.”
“I don’t really think so. Everyone’s already eaten and Hermione and Ron were starting to wash up, trying to see who could get in the shower first.”
“Oh.” There was a pause and then she blurted out the truth. “My feet are freezing. I need to-“ She gestured vaguely at her bureau.
“I’m sorry, Ginny! I didn’t even think about your being cold. You should put on some socks.” He seemed reluctant to leave and she was just as reluctant to shoo him out the door as well. Right now, he was with her, alone. Just him and her. She didn’t have to share him with anyone else or vie with any other distractions for his attention. He had eyes just for her. If she forced him to go downstairs and join the crowd down there, she may never have this chance again.
“Yeah. I’ll do that.” She crossed over to her drawers, not even caring that she was showing him the rat’s nest her hair always became overnight. She grabbed a pair of socks and then sat down hastily on the side of her bed to pull them on. She was trying to decide how to do it gracefully without showing him her knickers, when suddenly he was kneeling in front of her, taking the socks from her unprotesting fingers, and sliding the first one onto her foot. “Thanks, Harry.” His fingers were cool but the shivers she felt up her spine had nothing to do with the temperature of the room or his hands. His movements were slow and deliberate, touching her gently and much more than strictly necessary to pull on a sock. She shivered again as the second one was carefully eased into place.
“I have something for you, Harry. Here in the room.” He looked up and she noted vague surprise in his expression.
“Something in here?” He didn’t even look around the room and Ginny met his gaze squarely.
“Yes. Part of your Christmas present.”
He chuckled softly at her response. “Don’t let Ron hear you say that, because even though I am sure you’re not offering me what it sounds like you are, he would probably jump to that conclusion.”
Ginny’s eyes widened and she laughed. “Ron would, uh, think I’m propositioning you?”
“Yeah. He and Hermione finally told each other how they feel, and now, because he is continually thinking about sex, he assumes everyone else is, too.”
Ginny laughed again. “Knowing Hermione, Ron is just wishing for it. Not getting it.”
“So true. Watch them together today. It’s quite amusing really. Well, when I’m not thinking I should curse him into next week for making me want-” He cut off abruptly and she let him, knowing instinctively what he meant.
Ginny reached out and touched his hair, relearning the feel of it on her fingers. “You look tired.”
“I am. We all are. Tired, dirty, hungry, and much too thin, if your mum is to be believed.” He reciprocated the touch, combing his fingers through her hair gently. She wanted to purr and rub her face against his hand, but managed to restrain herself.
“She usually knows about these things.”
“Yeah.” He smiled, stood, and pulled her to her feet. “So, do I get my present now?”
“Yes. It’s right there.” He followed her finger and raised his eyebrows in an unasked question.
“It’s a Christmas tree! Not really practical for me to take with me. But thank you. I’ve always wanted one.” She grinned at his teasing.
“Have you ever decorated a Christmas tree before?”
His face lost its smile and he shook his head slowly. “No. I’ve never had the chance.”
“That’s what I thought. This miniature tree is just for you and me. And you get to decorate it all by yourself. Although if you want help, I’ll help you.”
“Oh.” He walked closer to the table the little tree sat on, staring worriedly at it. “I, well, I don’t have the slightest idea . . . How do I start?”
Ginny pursed her lips and cursed his blasted Muggle relatives under her breath for about the thousandth time in her life. This time, she wished them boils the size of dinner plates on their butts. Her duty done, she turned her attention back to Harry, who seemed more nervous than she had expected. “First, you need ornaments. Very small ones for a tree this size. The little presents underneath it are the ones I made for the tree.”
His smile lit up his face and she relaxed, knowing that she had made the right decision. It was a perfect present for him. And if the decorating went the way she expected . . . it would be a nice present for her as well. He pulled the presents out from under the small tree, shaking each one as he laid them out in order. They were numbered and he picked up the first one, opening it quickly with undisguised curiosity and excitement.
“Miniature candles! Where did you ever get these?”
“They’re birthday cake candles. That’s what my dad said, anyway. He got them from a Muggle shop, but then we charmed them so they wouldn’t catch the tree on fire. The holders are in the box, too.” There were fifteen candles, and after he struggled with attaching the first three holders, she helped him with the rest. He could have done it immediately with magic, but she sensed he was in no hurry, and she certainly was enjoying this little bubble of peace they seemed suspended in and didn’t want to rush either.
“Should I light them now?”
She answered him quickly. “No, wait until the end. That way, the tree just looks suddenly sparkly and beautiful.”
He grinned broadly and opened the next present. She bit her lip nervously as he opened the box. “If I were a girl, I’d squeal in excitement. They’re . . . cute. That’s the only way to describe them.”
“Thanks.” She laughed at his comment because she and her mum had actually squealed when George had shown them to them a few days before. Harry removed the miniature brooms from the package. “Do you know why I picked brooms?” she asked as he hung the first one on the tree.
“’Cause I like to fly?”
“Yeah, but there’s more to it than that. This tree is meant to celebrate us.”
He nodded carefully as he hung the small brooms randomly on the branches. Ginny could tell he didn’t quite get the idea of the decorations. She hoped that by the time they finished opening all the ornaments, he would understand. “Is it because we were both on the Quidditch team? That would be about us.”
“Sort of. Our first kiss was after Quidditch,” she reminded him.
Harry smiled and took her hand. “Of course. I haven’t forgotten that.” Ginny raised her face to his, hoping he would kiss her again. It had been so long since she had felt the press of his lips against hers. She felt his gaze on her mouth, and she licked her lips instinctively. He swallowed hard but then turned his face back to the tree. “It already looks brilliant. And there’s even more!”
He opened the next box and looked inside. His eyebrows lowered in confusion. “What are these?”
“You don’t remember?” Ginny asked.
“Sorry.” He glanced at her face and Ginny tried not to look too disappointed. After all, just because it was a big deal to her, didn’t mean it was to him. “I can see I hurt your feelings,” Harry said quietly.
“The day after our first kiss, we walked by the lake for a long time. And you picked these flowers and gave them to me at the end of the walk.” She had dried the flowers so carefully, thinking about when she had granddaughters and she could show them the flowers and tell them about how their grandfather had looked so sweetly hopeful on a cool morning many years before and how romantic it had been, their kisses still tasting like their breakfast cocoa. She glanced down at the fragile blooms, now removed from their stems and affixed to hooks. She felt tears in her throat and swallowed them. After all, this was supposed to be fun for him and Harry didn’t like crying girls.
Harry sighed, “I remember that. I do. It was so good to finally be able to walk with you and hold your hand.” His voice was soft. “Help me hang these up, okay?” They hung the colorful blossoms randomly on the tree and Ginny was pleased with their contrast against the brown of the small brooms and the plain green of the tree.
He laughed loudly at the next set of ornaments. They were tiny picnic baskets. Mum had charmed them to the right size after she had filled them with the foods Ginny had listed. “I do remember this picnic! Dobby really outdid himself that day!” Ginny grinned at his laughter. It had been a very fun day, despite the fact that it was later than they had expected by the time Harry got out of detention with Snape. They were both starving but still had hiked to the Quidditch pitch where they sat and ate and talked for hours. There had been some delicious elf-made wine in the basket and she remembered the feel of his tongue licking a few spilled drops off her chin before they kissed once again. She remembered how they had fed each other nibbles of cheese and grapes and how he had reacted when she nipped his fingers with her sharp teeth. “Remember the wine?” She nodded. “And the cheese? I don’t know what it was, but I liked it.” She nodded again. He cleared his throat. “I remember kissing you, a lot.”
“There was a lot of kissing that day. We also talked a lot. But I think we kissed more.”
“Ginny, I-“
“We better hang these up, I guess. We still have a lot more work to do.” Her voice sounded unnaturally bright and she winced as she hung the first basket on the tree. They worked in silence for a moment until they were all hung on the branches and Harry opened another box.
“We weren’t dating when I was in the Tri-Wizard Tournament, Ginny.” Harry removed the Hungarian Horntail ornaments from their box. “But you did a great job duplicating the little model.”
“It wasn’t me, it was Fred. And he did do a really nice job.” She studied one of the tiny roaring dragons. “I know we weren’t dating then. But the subject did come up while we were dating. Don’t you remember?”
Harry shook his head slowly. Then he smiled. “I do remember. The tattoo! You said you told Romilda Vane I had a Hungarian Horntail tattoo on my chest!” Ginny nodded and Harry hugged her quickly before putting the small roaring dragons on the tree. She watched him reach for the higher branches and the way his shoulder blade moved under his skin. He really was too thin. She sighed silently. Each of these were supposed to remind him of kisses they had shared during those brief weeks together. She did tease him and Ron about having tattoos that day. But beyond that, afterward, he had pulled her up onto the couch next to him and snogged her in full view of Romilda Vane, who looked like she had been sucking lemons for a full six hours afterward. That incident had done a great deal to make her know that Harry wasn’t ashamed to announce to the whole world they were together. She had also hoped that being reminded of all these great kisses would inspire him to kiss her again. So far, though, that wasn’t happening.
It also didn’t happen with the miniature Sugarquill that was supposed to remind him of their date to Hogsmeade, where they had held hands and kissed and just generally annoyed Ron like mad all afternoon.
It also didn’t happen with the small treacle tarts to remind him of the late night they had sneaked down to the kitchen to beg sweets off Dobby because they had both missed dinner while he helped her with revising for potions. Hiding under the invisibility cloak while they stumbled down the stairs and through the halls had resulted in a lot of laughter, a lot of touching, and a lot of spontaneous kissing, including several long moments behind a suit of armor while Mrs. Norris was prowling about and neither of them cared. They had been too busy exploring different methods of tasting each other. The treacle tart had only helped on the way back.
The small white bird feathers confused him at first, until she reminded him about how Hedwig would bring her love letters and how she always kissed him in response when she saw him next. She stood with her arms around him tightly now, forcing him to stretch awkwardly to place the feathers on the few bare spots left on the branches. He didn’t seem to mind, and she could feel the tension running through him. He may act as though holding her and kissing her was a thing of the past, but his body wasn’t cooperating. He held her close now, but refused to allow himself to even look down at her. She placed careful kisses on his jaw and he flinched. She smiled. It was enough. She knew what she wanted and she intended to get it, whatever it took.
His hands shook slightly as he opened the last box. He smiled as he reached inside it and pulled out the miniature golden snitches from the same toy Quidditch sets that had yielded the miniature brooms. “I know what these are for.” Then he paused. “Wait. We already had something from our first kiss -- the brooms. I don’t . . . Am I forgetting something important?”
“Yeah. Our next kiss. After a very long wait, Harry Potter. And I don’t intend to wait any longer.” With that, she pressed herself up against him, full on, not caring that her fuzzy robe didn’t feel sexy or that the cotton of her nightgown wasn’t the smooth silk of expensive lingerie, just wanting to be close to him. Their lips met, parted, and then met again, this time clinging with almost desperate force, and they both released all the tension that had been building since she had opened the door more than two hours ago. His hands fumbled with the tie of her robe, opening it with the same shaking hands that had opened the box of little snitches. He pulled her closer, sitting down hard on her bedroom chair and grinning against her lips as she followed, straddling his knees.
“Oh, Merlin, Ginny. We need to-“
“I agree.” And she kissed him harder.
“No! We need to stop!”
She sat away from him then. “Why? I know you still like me, despite this stupid breaking up thing.”
“Yes. I do-” She launched herself at him again and they kissed for a few long moments before he pulled his head away and turned from her. “Ginny! Let me explain!”
“Okay. You’ve got two minutes.”
He scowled playfully. “I better hurry, then. I, well, I do like you. I think, no, I know I love you. And I really was a fool to think that it would be better if we were not together. I need you, Ginny. I need to know that you’re mine, even when you’re not with me. I need to know that you’re waiting for me. That when I’m done with all this . . . mess, when he’s dead, that you’ll be here for me to come home to.” She nodded. “But I can’t promise that I’ll come home. I, well, that’s the part I couldn’t admit before. It didn’t seem fair to you, at the wedding, to tell you how much I love you, when there was the possibility, still is the possibility, really, of my being dead before I even get to see you again.”
“But-“
He placed his finger over her mouth. “Let me finish, please, before I lose my nerve. But Hermione and Ron, in some weird way, made me realize that I could love you now, for this moment, without feeling as though I was betraying you if . . . if somehow I failed and didn’t come back. And since I do love you, and I think you love me, and our denying it to each other didn’t really change anything except for making us both miserable, I decided I’d better tell you the truth. I love you, Ginny.”
Ginny stared at him for a moment, feeling again the press of tears against the back of her throat and behind her eyes. “I love you, too, Harry.” She leaned forward, intent on kissing him again, but stopping before their lips met. “Why haven’t you been kissing me, then? Are you just teasing me?”
“No. Not teasing you. I want to kiss you. Bloody hell, Ginny, thinking about all those kisses made me want to kiss you for hours and never come up for air. But, I’ll be honest here. We are in your bedroom, alone, and you are not dressed and you look so incredibly cute and sexy in that thin nightgown-“ He eyed her up and down with obvious desire in his eyes. Ginny started in surprise, sure she had heard him wrong. She looked anything but cute and sexy. “And I know how carried away we can get. And I couldn’t risk, still can’t risk, any of your family finding me up here doing things they would definitely not approve of! I’d be hexed into oblivion long before old Tom got a chance at me!”
Ginny stared at him for a long moment, searching his green eyes to see if he was lying, but all she could see in his expression was love and happiness. So she kissed him chastely and climbed off his lap. “You’re right. There’ll be plenty of time for kisses. We’ll have years together. I know it.” He nodded, and stood up next to her, taking the small box of Snitches again and then hanging them carefully on the tree.
“I still don’t understand, though. What does a snitch have to do with this kiss, today?”
“You haven’t opened your official present yet, that’s why you don’t understand.” She reached under the table the tree sat on and pulled out a big box. “Mum helped a bit with the sleeves, but mainly it was me. I hope you like it.”
She watched as he opened the box and laughed as he pulled out her first attempt at a Weasley sweater. It was, actually, very nicely made. Her mum had been impressed. She had used cashmere yarn, which had cost a small fortune, but Fred and George had bought it for her and mailed it to Hogwarts. Dobby had helped with the unfamiliar stitches (house-elves really could do everything) and McGonagall had helped with the charm work. It was a beautiful forest green, with no letter on the front. “It’s so you can travel anonymously.” He kissed her in thanks.
“I still don’t-“
“But if you turn it inside out and say ‘Reveal,’ then you’ll get a surprise.”
He did so and stared in amazed wonder at the design. It was a huge golden Snitch, fluttering lazily on top of the yarn. And written in delicate black thread on the golden surface were the words “Golden Snitch, property of Ginny Weasley, caught at the Burrow on December 25, 1997.”
“You’re mine, Potter. Now and always. Never forget it.”
“I never will, Weasley. I never will.” He pulled the sweater over his head, complimenting her again on the softness of the wool and the beautiful stitching. Ginny flushed in embarrassment at his praise, but ran her hands appreciatively around his waist as they hugged.
He pulled the curtains across her window with his wand and then lit the candles on the tree, and they both sat there for a long time enjoying the candlelight glinting off the ornaments that reminded them both of how much wonder and beauty there was in their future, together.
------------------------
ORIGINAL REQUEST:
Briefly describe what you'd like to receive: Something about a reunion of Harry and Ginny after the break up. Possibly something about going with Hermione and Ron to get the horcruxes. Not too fussy, I’d just like some cliche H/G romance please!
Preferred Rating: PG-PG14
OBHWF Inclusion: Yes
Holiday Choice (Christmas, New Year's, Both, or Unimportant): Christmas
If both, when would you like the fic to be posted? n/a
Other Holidays to incorporate (optional, maximum of three): n/a
One to three specifics you want (optional): UST (unsolved sexual tension) and Hermione/Ron are dating.
Deal Breakers (what don't you want?): No actual sex.
Thank you for participating in the Winter Exchange! Happy Holidays!
Author: snuggle_muggle
Beta: carrickorourke
Rating: PG14
Word count: 5100 or so
Summary: It’s Christmas Eve and Harry gets to do something he’s never done before. It turns out to be even more fun than he expected.
Warnings: A little language, lots of snogging.
Disclaimer: Sadly, not mine. All characters are the property of the marvelous JK Rowling.
Author's Notes: I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. A little Harry/Ginny fluff is always fun!!
ORNAMENTS
Ginny opened her eyes immediately at her mum’s call up the stairs, smiling to herself as she realized what day it was. It was Christmas Eve, and that meant the day she had been awaiting for an entire week had finally arrived. Mail from her brother and his two best friends had been rare and when it had arrived, it was usually very vague, with just a few brief words assuring her mum and dad that they were all still alive and relatively well. This note really hadn’t been much different, except at the end there had been scribbled (after Hermione’s recognizably neat script) a P.S. in Ron’s handwriting “Coming C.E. Have Prezzies!” and there was a little smiley face at the end. Mum and Dad had pondered over that note for hours, wondering who C.E. was and where he was going, but Ginny had taken one look at it, laughed, and interpreted for her confused parents. “It means they’re coming on Christmas Eve, Mum, and Ron wants to make sure you’ve got presents for him - and presumably Hermione and Harry, too.”
Her mum had looked pole-axed for a brief second and then her face broke into the happiest smile Ginny had seen for four months. It seemed that since the day Harry, Hermione, and Ron had left, her mother had been in a continual state of fret, never able to really relax. Ginny thought she looked a lot older now than she had even a few months before at Dumbledore’s funeral. But when she smiled that smile, Ginny felt a tight coil of nerves loosen in her own gut and she knew she was probably smiling just as broadly as her mum. Harry was coming home!
Since then, of course, she had alternated between periods of extreme euphoria and total fear. The situation between Harry and her was still uncertain, even six months after they had officially “broken up.” She wasn’t stupid. She knew why Harry had wanted to end things, and she knew it wasn’t because he didn’t like her anymore. She didn’t understand exactly what the three of them were out doing, but she knew it had something to do with finding Tom Riddle and wiping him off the face of the earth, and she supported their efforts completely.
But at Bill and Fleur’s wedding, they had barely spoken. Harry seemed reluctant to even look at her, and the one time they had been forced to dance together had been awkward. Harry had been stiff in her arms, hardly even touching her, and had stared over her shoulder through the entire song. She had been angry, but realized Harry was trying to deal with things in his own way and she hoped to have plenty of time to convince him to change his mind about their being together. But the next morning they had been gone, and the opportunity to convince him was gone as well.
Now, with his arrival imminent, she planned to corner him and force him to listen to her. She had figured it all out, and she really thought her scheme would work. If it didn’t, she had a back-up. This basically entailed doing a full body-bind curse on him and talking at him until he realized she was right and was willing to profess his undying devotion to her and then engage in a very long snogging session, hopefully passionate enough to make steam come out of Ron’s ears if he saw them.
She glanced at her “secret weapon” and ran through the plan again in her head. It wasn’t complicated, but with Harry, timing and wording were everything. She needed to pick the correct moment and phrase her request exactly right. If she did that, she was fairly confident things would move along as expected and that by the end of the day, Harry and she would be back together.
She didn’t bother to grab her bathrobe before she went down for breakfast. Her mum had told her the night before that she was going to start the Christmas baking early so it wouldn’t get forgotten in the rush of preparations for the trio’s arrival that afternoon. That meant it would be hot in the kitchen and Ginny decided that eating a quick bowl of mush this morning before getting herself into the shower and making herself presentable could be done without the stifling heat of her purple fuzzy housecoat. She had her outfit for the day all laid out on her bedroom chair, knowing Harry would love the jumper and the way the jeans clung to her butt. He had mentioned the jeans once before, blushing in his totally endearing way as he complimented her. The jumper . . . Well, it had been Michael who had told her one winter’s day that “Blokes really like birds in tight jumpers, Ginny. They do great things for a bird’s chest, and they practically scream Touch Me!” Then he had tried to demonstrate exactly where said touching was supposed to occur, and Ginny had immediately introduced him to her infamous Bat-Bogey hex, combined with an all-over itching jinx, and a hand swelling curse just for good measure. Even though she now realized what a tremendously sexist remark that had been, she also realized he had been completely right about jumpers. And if Harry wanted to touch her, well, she wouldn’t complain. Not at all. And she wouldn’t find it necessary to hex, jinx, or curse him, either.
She practically skipped down the steps and burst into the kitchen, coming to a dead stop when she saw the room was full of people and felt every eye in the room turn toward her. She really only registered, however, one pair of eyes. One bright green pair. Harry! “Oh, hell!” she said, rather more loudly than she wanted, and she stepped immediately back through the doorway, turning to run up the steps again, not even pausing when she heard her mum call out to her. She threw herself into her room, leaning against the door for a moment both to catch her breath and to literally barricade the door against the horror outside. Harry had seen her in this! Her old pink nightgown that was too small, too worn, and too ugly to even be slightly sexy.
She took a deep breath and looked into her mirror, trying to be objective, seeing herself as Harry (and everyone else) would have seen her. It wasn’t a flattering image, and she felt tears start to well up, biting her lip to avoid sobbing. She could only hope that her sudden entrance into the room had so surprised everyone (Harry!) that they had barely registered her before she was gone again. She felt a faint stirring of anger at her mum. This had happened once before, six years ago, when she had come downstairs completely ignorant to the fact that Harry Potter, the beautifully tragic hero she had dreamed about for almost an entire year, was sitting at her breakfast table. It had humiliated her then, and if it were possible, she was even more embarrassed now.
There was a light knock on the door and Ginny groaned. Her mother would be all “sorry”s and “I-didn’t-think”s but that wouldn’t change the fact that once again, Ginny was made to look a fool. “Go away! I don’t want to talk to you!” There was silence from her mum and Ginny felt a stab of guilt. She really couldn’t blame anyone else for the laziness that had driven her downstairs in her pyjamas. So, before her mum’s feelings were really hurt, Ginny called out again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. Of course I’ll talk to you.” She turned the knob, opened the door, and then slammed it closed again when she realized it was Harry standing there.
“Uh, Ginny. I’m starting to get a complex here. Please open the door.”
“I, I, uh, need to put on my housecoat.” It was the first thing that came to mind, and the last thing she really wanted to do. She looked quickly at her beautiful clothes laid out for the day, and then sighed and picked up her fuzzy purple robe, wrapping it around herself and tying it closed as she opened the door again.
“Hi,” he said. Ginny thought this was a wholly inadequate greeting after four months of separation, but the little speech she had rehearsed didn’t come to mind either, so she responded with an equally simple,
“Hi, yourself.”
They looked at each other for a unending brief second before he spoke again. “Can, um, I come in?”
“Sure.” She stepped back and he stepped forward and suddenly he was in her bedroom and Ginny felt a little trill of excitement, even through the myriad of other emotions fighting each other for dominance. They both stared at each other. She tried to take in his entire appearance, trying to reassure herself that he was uninjured and whole, but her eyes kept snapping back up to his face, wanting to just absorb his handsome features and convince herself this was not a dream. She saw his gaze dart downward several times as well, and then their gazes would lock before they both looked away again. “This wasn’t what I had planned.”
“No, I gathered that.” She detected a slight smile behind his words and she bristled. He wouldn’t dare tease her, would he?
“Ron wrote you were coming on Christmas Eve!” She wanted to bite her tongue at the accusing tone in her voice, but she did feel truly wronged and wanted him to know it.
“It is Christmas Eve. The whole day is, you know. I mean, he didn’t specify an exact time.” The smile was still there, but the earnestness was there, too, and she knew he meant that more.
“But . . .” She conceded defeat. “True. Mum assumed you meant night, and I guess I just didn’t really think to question it.” She fiddled nervously with the sash on her housecoat and stared down at her bare feet, realizing suddenly how cold she was. “I guess I better get dressed, Harry. I’m sure Mum will need help downstairs.”
“I don’t really think so. Everyone’s already eaten and Hermione and Ron were starting to wash up, trying to see who could get in the shower first.”
“Oh.” There was a pause and then she blurted out the truth. “My feet are freezing. I need to-“ She gestured vaguely at her bureau.
“I’m sorry, Ginny! I didn’t even think about your being cold. You should put on some socks.” He seemed reluctant to leave and she was just as reluctant to shoo him out the door as well. Right now, he was with her, alone. Just him and her. She didn’t have to share him with anyone else or vie with any other distractions for his attention. He had eyes just for her. If she forced him to go downstairs and join the crowd down there, she may never have this chance again.
“Yeah. I’ll do that.” She crossed over to her drawers, not even caring that she was showing him the rat’s nest her hair always became overnight. She grabbed a pair of socks and then sat down hastily on the side of her bed to pull them on. She was trying to decide how to do it gracefully without showing him her knickers, when suddenly he was kneeling in front of her, taking the socks from her unprotesting fingers, and sliding the first one onto her foot. “Thanks, Harry.” His fingers were cool but the shivers she felt up her spine had nothing to do with the temperature of the room or his hands. His movements were slow and deliberate, touching her gently and much more than strictly necessary to pull on a sock. She shivered again as the second one was carefully eased into place.
“I have something for you, Harry. Here in the room.” He looked up and she noted vague surprise in his expression.
“Something in here?” He didn’t even look around the room and Ginny met his gaze squarely.
“Yes. Part of your Christmas present.”
He chuckled softly at her response. “Don’t let Ron hear you say that, because even though I am sure you’re not offering me what it sounds like you are, he would probably jump to that conclusion.”
Ginny’s eyes widened and she laughed. “Ron would, uh, think I’m propositioning you?”
“Yeah. He and Hermione finally told each other how they feel, and now, because he is continually thinking about sex, he assumes everyone else is, too.”
Ginny laughed again. “Knowing Hermione, Ron is just wishing for it. Not getting it.”
“So true. Watch them together today. It’s quite amusing really. Well, when I’m not thinking I should curse him into next week for making me want-” He cut off abruptly and she let him, knowing instinctively what he meant.
Ginny reached out and touched his hair, relearning the feel of it on her fingers. “You look tired.”
“I am. We all are. Tired, dirty, hungry, and much too thin, if your mum is to be believed.” He reciprocated the touch, combing his fingers through her hair gently. She wanted to purr and rub her face against his hand, but managed to restrain herself.
“She usually knows about these things.”
“Yeah.” He smiled, stood, and pulled her to her feet. “So, do I get my present now?”
“Yes. It’s right there.” He followed her finger and raised his eyebrows in an unasked question.
“It’s a Christmas tree! Not really practical for me to take with me. But thank you. I’ve always wanted one.” She grinned at his teasing.
“Have you ever decorated a Christmas tree before?”
His face lost its smile and he shook his head slowly. “No. I’ve never had the chance.”
“That’s what I thought. This miniature tree is just for you and me. And you get to decorate it all by yourself. Although if you want help, I’ll help you.”
“Oh.” He walked closer to the table the little tree sat on, staring worriedly at it. “I, well, I don’t have the slightest idea . . . How do I start?”
Ginny pursed her lips and cursed his blasted Muggle relatives under her breath for about the thousandth time in her life. This time, she wished them boils the size of dinner plates on their butts. Her duty done, she turned her attention back to Harry, who seemed more nervous than she had expected. “First, you need ornaments. Very small ones for a tree this size. The little presents underneath it are the ones I made for the tree.”
His smile lit up his face and she relaxed, knowing that she had made the right decision. It was a perfect present for him. And if the decorating went the way she expected . . . it would be a nice present for her as well. He pulled the presents out from under the small tree, shaking each one as he laid them out in order. They were numbered and he picked up the first one, opening it quickly with undisguised curiosity and excitement.
“Miniature candles! Where did you ever get these?”
“They’re birthday cake candles. That’s what my dad said, anyway. He got them from a Muggle shop, but then we charmed them so they wouldn’t catch the tree on fire. The holders are in the box, too.” There were fifteen candles, and after he struggled with attaching the first three holders, she helped him with the rest. He could have done it immediately with magic, but she sensed he was in no hurry, and she certainly was enjoying this little bubble of peace they seemed suspended in and didn’t want to rush either.
“Should I light them now?”
She answered him quickly. “No, wait until the end. That way, the tree just looks suddenly sparkly and beautiful.”
He grinned broadly and opened the next present. She bit her lip nervously as he opened the box. “If I were a girl, I’d squeal in excitement. They’re . . . cute. That’s the only way to describe them.”
“Thanks.” She laughed at his comment because she and her mum had actually squealed when George had shown them to them a few days before. Harry removed the miniature brooms from the package. “Do you know why I picked brooms?” she asked as he hung the first one on the tree.
“’Cause I like to fly?”
“Yeah, but there’s more to it than that. This tree is meant to celebrate us.”
He nodded carefully as he hung the small brooms randomly on the branches. Ginny could tell he didn’t quite get the idea of the decorations. She hoped that by the time they finished opening all the ornaments, he would understand. “Is it because we were both on the Quidditch team? That would be about us.”
“Sort of. Our first kiss was after Quidditch,” she reminded him.
Harry smiled and took her hand. “Of course. I haven’t forgotten that.” Ginny raised her face to his, hoping he would kiss her again. It had been so long since she had felt the press of his lips against hers. She felt his gaze on her mouth, and she licked her lips instinctively. He swallowed hard but then turned his face back to the tree. “It already looks brilliant. And there’s even more!”
He opened the next box and looked inside. His eyebrows lowered in confusion. “What are these?”
“You don’t remember?” Ginny asked.
“Sorry.” He glanced at her face and Ginny tried not to look too disappointed. After all, just because it was a big deal to her, didn’t mean it was to him. “I can see I hurt your feelings,” Harry said quietly.
“The day after our first kiss, we walked by the lake for a long time. And you picked these flowers and gave them to me at the end of the walk.” She had dried the flowers so carefully, thinking about when she had granddaughters and she could show them the flowers and tell them about how their grandfather had looked so sweetly hopeful on a cool morning many years before and how romantic it had been, their kisses still tasting like their breakfast cocoa. She glanced down at the fragile blooms, now removed from their stems and affixed to hooks. She felt tears in her throat and swallowed them. After all, this was supposed to be fun for him and Harry didn’t like crying girls.
Harry sighed, “I remember that. I do. It was so good to finally be able to walk with you and hold your hand.” His voice was soft. “Help me hang these up, okay?” They hung the colorful blossoms randomly on the tree and Ginny was pleased with their contrast against the brown of the small brooms and the plain green of the tree.
He laughed loudly at the next set of ornaments. They were tiny picnic baskets. Mum had charmed them to the right size after she had filled them with the foods Ginny had listed. “I do remember this picnic! Dobby really outdid himself that day!” Ginny grinned at his laughter. It had been a very fun day, despite the fact that it was later than they had expected by the time Harry got out of detention with Snape. They were both starving but still had hiked to the Quidditch pitch where they sat and ate and talked for hours. There had been some delicious elf-made wine in the basket and she remembered the feel of his tongue licking a few spilled drops off her chin before they kissed once again. She remembered how they had fed each other nibbles of cheese and grapes and how he had reacted when she nipped his fingers with her sharp teeth. “Remember the wine?” She nodded. “And the cheese? I don’t know what it was, but I liked it.” She nodded again. He cleared his throat. “I remember kissing you, a lot.”
“There was a lot of kissing that day. We also talked a lot. But I think we kissed more.”
“Ginny, I-“
“We better hang these up, I guess. We still have a lot more work to do.” Her voice sounded unnaturally bright and she winced as she hung the first basket on the tree. They worked in silence for a moment until they were all hung on the branches and Harry opened another box.
“We weren’t dating when I was in the Tri-Wizard Tournament, Ginny.” Harry removed the Hungarian Horntail ornaments from their box. “But you did a great job duplicating the little model.”
“It wasn’t me, it was Fred. And he did do a really nice job.” She studied one of the tiny roaring dragons. “I know we weren’t dating then. But the subject did come up while we were dating. Don’t you remember?”
Harry shook his head slowly. Then he smiled. “I do remember. The tattoo! You said you told Romilda Vane I had a Hungarian Horntail tattoo on my chest!” Ginny nodded and Harry hugged her quickly before putting the small roaring dragons on the tree. She watched him reach for the higher branches and the way his shoulder blade moved under his skin. He really was too thin. She sighed silently. Each of these were supposed to remind him of kisses they had shared during those brief weeks together. She did tease him and Ron about having tattoos that day. But beyond that, afterward, he had pulled her up onto the couch next to him and snogged her in full view of Romilda Vane, who looked like she had been sucking lemons for a full six hours afterward. That incident had done a great deal to make her know that Harry wasn’t ashamed to announce to the whole world they were together. She had also hoped that being reminded of all these great kisses would inspire him to kiss her again. So far, though, that wasn’t happening.
It also didn’t happen with the miniature Sugarquill that was supposed to remind him of their date to Hogsmeade, where they had held hands and kissed and just generally annoyed Ron like mad all afternoon.
It also didn’t happen with the small treacle tarts to remind him of the late night they had sneaked down to the kitchen to beg sweets off Dobby because they had both missed dinner while he helped her with revising for potions. Hiding under the invisibility cloak while they stumbled down the stairs and through the halls had resulted in a lot of laughter, a lot of touching, and a lot of spontaneous kissing, including several long moments behind a suit of armor while Mrs. Norris was prowling about and neither of them cared. They had been too busy exploring different methods of tasting each other. The treacle tart had only helped on the way back.
The small white bird feathers confused him at first, until she reminded him about how Hedwig would bring her love letters and how she always kissed him in response when she saw him next. She stood with her arms around him tightly now, forcing him to stretch awkwardly to place the feathers on the few bare spots left on the branches. He didn’t seem to mind, and she could feel the tension running through him. He may act as though holding her and kissing her was a thing of the past, but his body wasn’t cooperating. He held her close now, but refused to allow himself to even look down at her. She placed careful kisses on his jaw and he flinched. She smiled. It was enough. She knew what she wanted and she intended to get it, whatever it took.
His hands shook slightly as he opened the last box. He smiled as he reached inside it and pulled out the miniature golden snitches from the same toy Quidditch sets that had yielded the miniature brooms. “I know what these are for.” Then he paused. “Wait. We already had something from our first kiss -- the brooms. I don’t . . . Am I forgetting something important?”
“Yeah. Our next kiss. After a very long wait, Harry Potter. And I don’t intend to wait any longer.” With that, she pressed herself up against him, full on, not caring that her fuzzy robe didn’t feel sexy or that the cotton of her nightgown wasn’t the smooth silk of expensive lingerie, just wanting to be close to him. Their lips met, parted, and then met again, this time clinging with almost desperate force, and they both released all the tension that had been building since she had opened the door more than two hours ago. His hands fumbled with the tie of her robe, opening it with the same shaking hands that had opened the box of little snitches. He pulled her closer, sitting down hard on her bedroom chair and grinning against her lips as she followed, straddling his knees.
“Oh, Merlin, Ginny. We need to-“
“I agree.” And she kissed him harder.
“No! We need to stop!”
She sat away from him then. “Why? I know you still like me, despite this stupid breaking up thing.”
“Yes. I do-” She launched herself at him again and they kissed for a few long moments before he pulled his head away and turned from her. “Ginny! Let me explain!”
“Okay. You’ve got two minutes.”
He scowled playfully. “I better hurry, then. I, well, I do like you. I think, no, I know I love you. And I really was a fool to think that it would be better if we were not together. I need you, Ginny. I need to know that you’re mine, even when you’re not with me. I need to know that you’re waiting for me. That when I’m done with all this . . . mess, when he’s dead, that you’ll be here for me to come home to.” She nodded. “But I can’t promise that I’ll come home. I, well, that’s the part I couldn’t admit before. It didn’t seem fair to you, at the wedding, to tell you how much I love you, when there was the possibility, still is the possibility, really, of my being dead before I even get to see you again.”
“But-“
He placed his finger over her mouth. “Let me finish, please, before I lose my nerve. But Hermione and Ron, in some weird way, made me realize that I could love you now, for this moment, without feeling as though I was betraying you if . . . if somehow I failed and didn’t come back. And since I do love you, and I think you love me, and our denying it to each other didn’t really change anything except for making us both miserable, I decided I’d better tell you the truth. I love you, Ginny.”
Ginny stared at him for a moment, feeling again the press of tears against the back of her throat and behind her eyes. “I love you, too, Harry.” She leaned forward, intent on kissing him again, but stopping before their lips met. “Why haven’t you been kissing me, then? Are you just teasing me?”
“No. Not teasing you. I want to kiss you. Bloody hell, Ginny, thinking about all those kisses made me want to kiss you for hours and never come up for air. But, I’ll be honest here. We are in your bedroom, alone, and you are not dressed and you look so incredibly cute and sexy in that thin nightgown-“ He eyed her up and down with obvious desire in his eyes. Ginny started in surprise, sure she had heard him wrong. She looked anything but cute and sexy. “And I know how carried away we can get. And I couldn’t risk, still can’t risk, any of your family finding me up here doing things they would definitely not approve of! I’d be hexed into oblivion long before old Tom got a chance at me!”
Ginny stared at him for a long moment, searching his green eyes to see if he was lying, but all she could see in his expression was love and happiness. So she kissed him chastely and climbed off his lap. “You’re right. There’ll be plenty of time for kisses. We’ll have years together. I know it.” He nodded, and stood up next to her, taking the small box of Snitches again and then hanging them carefully on the tree.
“I still don’t understand, though. What does a snitch have to do with this kiss, today?”
“You haven’t opened your official present yet, that’s why you don’t understand.” She reached under the table the tree sat on and pulled out a big box. “Mum helped a bit with the sleeves, but mainly it was me. I hope you like it.”
She watched as he opened the box and laughed as he pulled out her first attempt at a Weasley sweater. It was, actually, very nicely made. Her mum had been impressed. She had used cashmere yarn, which had cost a small fortune, but Fred and George had bought it for her and mailed it to Hogwarts. Dobby had helped with the unfamiliar stitches (house-elves really could do everything) and McGonagall had helped with the charm work. It was a beautiful forest green, with no letter on the front. “It’s so you can travel anonymously.” He kissed her in thanks.
“I still don’t-“
“But if you turn it inside out and say ‘Reveal,’ then you’ll get a surprise.”
He did so and stared in amazed wonder at the design. It was a huge golden Snitch, fluttering lazily on top of the yarn. And written in delicate black thread on the golden surface were the words “Golden Snitch, property of Ginny Weasley, caught at the Burrow on December 25, 1997.”
“You’re mine, Potter. Now and always. Never forget it.”
“I never will, Weasley. I never will.” He pulled the sweater over his head, complimenting her again on the softness of the wool and the beautiful stitching. Ginny flushed in embarrassment at his praise, but ran her hands appreciatively around his waist as they hugged.
He pulled the curtains across her window with his wand and then lit the candles on the tree, and they both sat there for a long time enjoying the candlelight glinting off the ornaments that reminded them both of how much wonder and beauty there was in their future, together.
------------------------
ORIGINAL REQUEST:
Briefly describe what you'd like to receive: Something about a reunion of Harry and Ginny after the break up. Possibly something about going with Hermione and Ron to get the horcruxes. Not too fussy, I’d just like some cliche H/G romance please!
Preferred Rating: PG-PG14
OBHWF Inclusion: Yes
Holiday Choice (Christmas, New Year's, Both, or Unimportant): Christmas
If both, when would you like the fic to be posted? n/a
Other Holidays to incorporate (optional, maximum of three): n/a
One to three specifics you want (optional): UST (unsolved sexual tension) and Hermione/Ron are dating.
Deal Breakers (what don't you want?): No actual sex.
Thank you for participating in the Winter Exchange! Happy Holidays!