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Earthworms - H/G - PG-13
Title: Earthworms
Author:shocolate
Pairing: Harry/Ginny
Words: 3400
Rating: PG-13
Written foraggiebell90, for the Changing Seasons exchange.
I’m not used to writing Harry/Ginny, but she asked for – among many other things, but they, for some strange reason, caught my eye - humour and Ron – so I hope she likes it.
Many thanks for the lookover and confirmation that it counts as H/G bymagicofisis and maple_mahogany.
Earthworms
****
Harry hadn’t seen daylight for weeks. He’d been on nights at the Ministry since the New Year and had been scribbling his reports and collapsing into bed before dawn.
He’d barely seen his friends, either. Hermione worked office hours; Ron was either on days or Hermione and they occasionally passed each other in the bathroom late at night, as Ron went to bed and Harry work.
Ginny trained all hours with the Harpies and, much to her mother’s and all post owls’ disgust, shared a cottage in Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwlll
Harry was tired, but satisfied.
He loved his job; he and Ron were near qualifying, and would no longer be kept on opposing shifts when they were fully fledged Aurors. Harry could not wait to be partners.
Ron was insufferably happy with Hermione, but spared Harry the gory details, for which he was deeply grateful, as he really didn’t like the idea of anyone accessing his proxy sister’s… parts, even if it was his Ron.
Harry was… unattached.
Which was fine. He was twenty, he wasn’t in any hurry to settle down.
And the longer he’d put off having The Talk with Ginny, the more significant it had become. She’d returned to school with nothing resolved between them and had nodded goodbye to him as Ron and Hermione had practiced their non-verbal skills, beside them.
Harry had teased Ron about it and Ron had claimed his non-verbal skills meant he could go undercover and look like he was just snogging someone, while monitoring his target.
Harry had said he was gonna ask for another partner.
But he’d thrown himself into Auror training and had resurfaced to find out that his love life had been taken out of – or rather, left entirely in - his own hands. Terry Boot was working in Hogsmeade, and they’d wasted years teasing Ron that Terry was looking at him, because Terry was straight. Or possibly he just had a thing for redheads.
Hermione had tentatively written to Ron with the news and Ron had tentatively warned Harry that Ginny had an escort on Hogsmeade weekends. And that he was more than welcome to hang out with him and Hermione.
But Harry was too good a friend and had volunteered to work the weekend, so Ron and Hermione and one of Madam Rosmerta’s bedrooms could have some quality time together.
He couldn’t deny that it hurt to think of her with Terry, and he only denied that it was all his fault because it made him seem a bit arrogant. He thought she would probably have taken him back, that summer, if he’d been able to bring himself to have The Talk.
But then what?
He’d been shocked to walk into Ron’s room at Grimmauld Place and catch him in bed with Hermione. He wasn’t an idiot; he wasn’t shocked by sex.
Much.
But he had thought they were moving a bit fast, and what would happen if they split up? Hermione had been bizarrely nonchalant about being caught pinned to Ron’s bed by… things Harry didn’t want to think about, and had merely stilled Ron’s bobbing arse, saying it was hardly ‘too soon’, when they’d pretty much been together for seven years.
Harry had decided not to challenge that one.
But yeah, there wasn’t any point in Ron and Hermione taking things slowly and getting to know each other. They were practically married, and no doubt would be, as soon as Hermione finished her indentures at the Ministry.
And Ron got around to proposing.
Apparently he’d been far more proactive than usual about their various sexual milestones.
But Harry didn’t want to get married.
Not remotely yet, and if he and Ginny had started anything up again, well, he didn’t see how he could avoid it. And that sounded bad enough in his head, he just hoped he’d never hear himself saying it out loud.
So.
He worked hard, he dated casually, he ignored Hermione’s pitying looks.
He found himself Apparating to the Burrow for lunch one Saturday in early March, for the more sedate and familial part of Ron’s twenty-first birthday celebrations, carrying a gift wrapped pair of Keeper’s gloves – the gift wrapped pair of fluffy handcuffs were back at Grimmauld Place, and he’d pop back for them, later, on the way to the Leaky Cauldron for a vast amount of alcohol and debauchery.
Well, a vast amount of stories from Seamus about his latest Nárbhflaith, Scoithniamh, Éibhleann or, on one memorable occasion that Harry still thought was Seamus winding them up, Kevin. And increasingly clumsy attempts by George and Lee to either debauch an innocent bystander with large breasts, or to get Ron to spill the beans about Hermione.
Quite why George was so obsessed with Hermione’s oral technique was something Harry didn’t want to know about.
But it was the first time he’d seen daylight beyond a dirty London street for months, and the trees around the Burrow were bursting with leaves; flowers and… stuff were peeping through the grass. Gnomes were gathering around a dug over flowerbed, coiling earthworms into a small large basket.
Birds of some sort were singing.
OK, he was a complete city dweller, but he could appreciate the countryside in small doses. As long as camping wasn’t involved; he’d had enough of camping.
But he was the only thing in the garden not bursting with new life. Maybe it was time to talk to Ginny.
He pushed the back door open and stepped into the kitchen.
“Hello stranger,” Ginny said, her hand buried in a chicken’s arse.
Harry blinked at the charming picture she made, with the spring sunshine streaming through the kitchen window and turning her hair to… something red and poetic. There. He’d only just sort of decided he should think of Ginny That Way again, and here she was, fisting a chicken.
It was an omen.
“Hi,” he said winningly. “Where is everyone?”
“Cheers, Harry,” Ginny said, thrusting her hand deep inside the chicken, twisting her wrist and making his eyes water.
“I meant where’s Ron,” he said.
She shook her head sadly.
“Mum is showing Hermione his baby photos, so he went out to the shed with Dad,” she said.
“He’s not usually that easily embarrassed, is he?” Harry asked.
“Ah, well,” she said, reaching for more stuffing. “The pictures were being used to illustrate how cute her children were gonna be.”
“Yikes,” Harry said. “Poor Ron.”
“Hmmm.”
“So… shed,” he said, backing towards the door and vaguely waving Ron’s gift. “Lunch… later.”
He could hear her rolling her eyes as he went back out into the garden.
Arthur passed him on the path to the shed, gleefully indicating the electric kettle he was holding and saying, “Ron is hiding in the shed, while his womenfolk pick names for his children.”
Harry laughed and entered the shed.
Ron was sitting on a workbench, glumly tossing a plug from hand to hand.
“Happy Birthday,” Harry said, hopping up beside him and holding out his gift.
“My birthday was on Thursday,” Ron said, ripping the paper and toasting Harry happily with a glove.
“I didn’t see you on Thursday,” Harry said.
“I haven’t seen you this year,” Ron grumbled.
Harry shrugged. “They’ll let up on us once we qualify,” he said. “And I took this weekend off ‘specially.”
“I’m deeply touched.”
“I don’t wanna know about your sex life.”
“Don’t wanna know what Hermione does with her tongue?” Ron sniggered.
“No!”
“No!” echoed Neville, from the doorway. “Ginny said you were both skulking out here.”
“For me?” Ron asked, nodding at the bunch of tulips in Neville’s hands.
“For Hermione,” Neville said.
“You making a move on my bird?” Ron asked, raising an eyebrow.
“You want me to tell her you call her ‘your bird’?” Harry asked and Ron snorted.
“She wanted some of our latest hybrid,” Neville said. “I promised I’d bring some this afternoon, as they wouldn’t survive the night of debauchery at the Leaky.”
“Ron isn’t allowed to be debauched,” Harry said. “Hermione’s orders.”
“I’m glad you’re here, actually, Harry,” Neville said, ignoring Ron’s protest of autonomy.
“I know,” Harry said. “No one has seen me for months.”
“No,” Neville said. “I’m not glad you’re here because I’m glad to see you, I’m glad you’re here because I have a bone to pick with you.”
“What have I done?” Harry asked.
“Well, not no one has seen you for months,” Neville said. “Ernie has seen you several times.”
“Are we jealous of Ernie, now?” Ron asked. “’Cos I saw Harry on his way out when I got home last night.”
“Ernie saw him at the pub,” Neville said. “With Hannah.”
“You’re seeing Hannah?” Ron asked. “Really? I thought you thought she was flat chested?”
“We’ve had breakfast together a few times,” Harry said. “At like midnight, when she’s closing up and I’m getting up.”
Ron waggled his eyebrows and leered excessively.
“You’re getting it up, then, are you?” he asked.
Harry snorted.
“Don’t answer that,” Neville said firmly.
“What?” Harry asked.
“I don’t want to know what you’re… up,” Neville said. “I want to know if you… mean it.”
“Mean it?” Harry echoed.
“Before I went to Holland, I was seeing quite a bit of Hannah,” Neville explained and Ron sniggered and Harry elbowed him in the ribs. “And if the two of you are, well, then I won’t. But if it’s just late night breakfast, then please stop.”
“Nev,” Harry said. “I had no idea; she didn’t say.”
“Ah,” Neville said.
“No, look,” Harry jumped down from the workbench. “We’ve hardly… it’s just… she’s the only person still awake when I get up.”
“You can’t date someone just because they’re awake,” Ron protested. “Please don’t tell Hermione this – she’ll go mental!”
“I don’t go out and look for awake women,” Harry protested. “Just she was awake when I got to the pub and we got talking and she’s great. But it’s nothing serious.”
“So, you haven’t slept with her?” Neville asked.
There was a ringing silence.
“I’d only just got up,” Harry said weakly.
“He doesn’t mean sleep,” Ron said helpfully.
“I know that,” Harry said. “Look, it was a one off thing, and it’s fine, really, she’s all yours.”
Neville was suddenly rather tall and very much in Harry’s face.
“You do not go to bed with a girl and then give her to your friend,” he said quietly.
“Nev, I swear,” Harry said. “She knows it’s casual. We agreed it’s just casual. Her hours at work are as insane as mine. If you want to date her for real, then she couldn’t do better and you have my blessing.”
Neville grunted and glared at him, but took a step back.
“And anyway,” Harry said helpfully. “I decided on my way here that it’s time I had a proper relationship.”
“And Hannah isn’t good enough for you?” Neville demanded. “Too flat chested?”
Harry blinked and Ron coughed apologetically.
“I meant I thought about Ginny,” Harry protested.
“I beg your pardon?” Ron asked quietly.
“What?” Harry blinked up at his best mate.
“You decided you need sex and assume my sister is available?”
“No… not like that,” Harry said. “I meant… I mean I think we should get back together…”
“Why now?” Ron asked bluntly.
“What?”
“You never told her why you didn’t want to see her, anymore,” Ron said. “And she moved on and she’s fine, and she has a boyfriend, and now you’re lonely and think it’s about time you got back together?”
“Not just because I’m lonely,” Harry said.
“That’s what it sounds like,” Neville said.
“Because I couldn’t have had an… adult relationship with Ginny and broken up and still been… part of the family,” he said, swallowing audibly.
He and Ron stared at each other.
“And you decided this morning that you’re ready for the happy ever after with Ginny?” Neville asked, breaking the Moment.
“Uh… yeah,” Harry said.
“Why this morning?” Ron asked.
“The gnomes were… coiling up these enormous earthworms… like ropes, and, and, they had a basketful, and…” he trailed off at the look on their faces.
“You decided to… fuck my sister, because the gnomes were coiling up earthworms?” Ron asked.
“Sort of,” Harry said and Neville snorted and Ron grasped his plug threateningly. “But not just the worms.”
“I don’t know what you’re worried about, Ron,” Neville said comfortingly.
“You weren’t this calm when you were defending Hannah,” Ron protested.
“How’ll Ginny react when he says ‘I need you, like a gnome needs a worm’?” Neville asked. “We should sell tickets.”
Ron sniggered.
“It was sunny,” Harry said earnestly, “and the gnomes were busy and the birds were singing and everything was bursting into life. And I thought of Ginny.”
Ron rubbed his jaw and looked at his best mate.
“What am I gonna do with you?” he said.
Harry shrugged.
“I’m not exactly renowned for my romantic words,” Ron said. “But even I can tell that’s not gonna work.”
“It has a certain charm,” Neville said encouragingly.
“To a herbologist, maybe,” Ron said. “But he’s not trying to get into your pants.”
“Does he really need to be romantic, straight off?” Neville asked. “She’s got a boyfriend, so he can’t be too touchy feely. He just needs to lay his cards on the table. Let her know he’s interested.”
“She’s been seeing Will for six months,” Ron said. “Romance is dead, she’ll be swept off her feet if he really lays it on thick.”
“What d’you suggest, then?”
“Well, I liked the stuff about being part of the family,” Ron said.
“You’re gonna make him say ‘I want Ron to be my brother’?” Neville shook his head sadly. “That’s why you want them back together.”
Ron flushed.
Harry sat down and picked up a screwdriver and a plug, as it looked like they’d be some time.
He’d fixed four appliances by the time Ron and Neville were satisfied with his lines, and he trailed after them back into the house, looking for Ginny.
Hermione was sitting at the kitchen table staring blankly into a cup of tea.
“Where’s Gin?” Ron asked her, pouring a cup for Harry, to strengthen him.
“What’s wrong?” Neville asked her, offering his tulips.
“Hmmm?” Hermione said, blinking them into focus. “Oh, Neville, they’re lovely; I’m terribly excited - are you sure about the prophylactic properties?”
Harry choked on his tea.
“You’re giving Hermione contraceptive tulips?” he spluttered.
“What?” Ron shouted. “Where are you gonna stick them?”
Hermione sighed heavily.
“Much as I am in the mood to develop new contraceptives – your mother wants you to have three boys and a girl, by the way, Ron,” she said, “prophylactic also means any preventative drug, such as a vaccine.”
Ron grunted and topped up Harry’s tea cup.
“So, where’s Gin?” he asked again.
“In the living room,” Hermione said, “your mum has pinned her down with her own baby photos.”
“No,” Harry said.
“Perfect timing,” Ron said excitedly.
“No,” Harry repeated.
Ron untangled some Extendable Ears from his pocket and handed one to Neville.
“What’s going on?” Hermione asked.
“Harry’s got this fantastic speech to win Ginny back,” Ron said happily. “She won’t know what hit her.”
Hermione looked surprised and Harry looked trapped, but Ron and Neville herded him out the door and into the living room.
Ginny and Mrs Weasley looked up as the door closed behind him and Harry had no idea how to get rid of their witness, because it wasn’t in his script.
“Um,” he said, adlibbing wildly.
“Harry, dear,” Mrs Weasley said, “have you been in the shed all this time?”
“Ron,” he said.
“Don’t you see enough of the boy?” she asked. “Come here and look at this; have you ever seen a lovelier baby?”
She patted the cushion beside her and he found himself sitting at the opposite end of the couch from Ginny, looking at each other as Mrs Weasley bent over her album cooing over Ginny’s bare bottom on a sheepskin rug.
Harry blinked several times, his opening line tasting like chalk in his mouth.
“I’ve waited for you to be a woman,” he blurted out.
“What?” Ginny asked.
“Harry?” Mrs Weasley said suspiciously.
“Will isn’t big enough for you,” he said.
Someone thumped the door urgently.
“Good enough,” Harry said. “Will isn’t good enough for you.”
Ginny frowned.
“And you think my love life is your business, do you?” she asked.
Harry opened his mouth and looked confused.
“Yes, I do,” he said.
“I beg your pardon?”
“No,” he said. “I thought you were gonna say ‘and you think you’re good enough, do you?’.”
Both women gaped at him.
“You can’t do this,” Ginny said finally.
“He doesn’t love you like I… might,” Harry said lamely, having held out against Ron’s preferred ‘do’.
“Might?” Ginny echoed.
There was a groaning noise in the hallway.
“He doesn’t love your family like I do,” Harry continued, having gladly conceded this point to Ron.
Ginny stood up and strode over to the door, ripping it open and stepping back as Ron and Neville fell at her feet.
She snatched the Extendable Ears from their hands and kicked her brother in the ribs.
“Out!” she snapped, watching them scramble to their feet. “Leave poor Harry alone!”
Both interlopers loped off back to the kitchen and Ginny squared her shoulders and turned back to face her mother and her pathetic suitor.
“Mum, can you give us a moment, please,” she said, her eyes on Harry’s miserable face.
Mrs Weasley tutted and stood up.
“Ginny,” she said.
“Please,” Ginny said politely, and her mother sighed and left the room.
Harry stood up, looking sick.
“That wasn’t funny,” Ginny said firmly.
“I wasn’t joking,” Harry said.
She raised a cynical eyebrow. “What was that load of crap?” she demanded.
“Ron rewrote my speech,” he muttered. “He thought it wasn’t romantic enough.”
She snorted. “And that was romantic?”
“I had to edit some out as I went along,” he admitted. “Stuff about your breasts that I couldn’t say in front of your mum.”
“Ron…” she swallowed. “Ron wrote you lines about my breasts?”
Harry shrugged. “Romantic stuff,” he assured her. “Nothing kinky.”
“You thought I would break up with my boyfriend if you said romantic things about my breasts?” she asked slowly.
“If I told you I was… ready,” he said.
“Ready for me to dump my boyfriend?” she said dangerously.
He noticed.
“Ready to stop keeping away from you,” he admitted. “Ready to risk losing your family if I couldn’t keep you happy.”
“Hmmm,” she said, her lip twitching. “That’s a bit better.”
“That’s one of mine,” he said.
She rolled her eyes.
“So,” she said. “Despite currently shagging Hannah Abbott, you have decided you cannot live without me.”
He blinked.
“Zach Smith is dating the Harpies’ Seeker,” she explained. “He thinks Hannah could do better for herself.”
“I wasn’t ready,” he said.
“But now you are?”
“I really think I am,” he said. “I really don’t think we’d’ve lasted if we got together when we were sixteen and seventeen, what with you at school and me training, and then I’d’ve lost my chance and you and your family.”
“And now?”
“Now you’re on the first team, and I’ve almost qualified and we’re… who we’re gonna be,” he said. “And we can be them together.”
“And you came to this realisation today.”
“It’s… Spring,” he said weakly.
“And your sap is rising?” she asked.
“It was sunny,” Harry said earnestly, “and the birds were singing and everything was bursting into life. And I thought of you.”
“Oh,” she said, her eyes wide.
“And the gnomes were… coiling up these enormous earthworms… like ropes, and, and, they had a basketful, and…” he trailed off.
“Worms?” she asked weakly.
“That’s why Ron rewrote my speech,” he admitted.
“Worms.”
“Worms.”
“You should have stopped at the ‘being who we are gonna be, together’ bit,” she said.
“I blew it?” he asked miserably.
“No,” she said gently. “Because that line would sound pretty good, when I break up with Will; he won’t understand the worms.”
She laughed and leapt into his arms and there was a muffled cheer from the hallway.
Title: Earthworms
Author:
shocolatePairing: Harry/Ginny
Words: 3400
Rating: PG-13
Written for
aggiebell90, for the Changing Seasons exchange.I’m not used to writing Harry/Ginny, but she asked for – among many other things, but they, for some strange reason, caught my eye - humour and Ron – so I hope she likes it.
Many thanks for the lookover and confirmation that it counts as H/G by
magicofisis and maple_mahogany.Earthworms
****
Harry hadn’t seen daylight for weeks. He’d been on nights at the Ministry since the New Year and had been scribbling his reports and collapsing into bed before dawn.
He’d barely seen his friends, either. Hermione worked office hours; Ron was either on days or Hermione and they occasionally passed each other in the bathroom late at night, as Ron went to bed and Harry work.
Ginny trained all hours with the Harpies and, much to her mother’s and all post owls’ disgust, shared a cottage in Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwlll
Harry was tired, but satisfied.
He loved his job; he and Ron were near qualifying, and would no longer be kept on opposing shifts when they were fully fledged Aurors. Harry could not wait to be partners.
Ron was insufferably happy with Hermione, but spared Harry the gory details, for which he was deeply grateful, as he really didn’t like the idea of anyone accessing his proxy sister’s… parts, even if it was his Ron.
Harry was… unattached.
Which was fine. He was twenty, he wasn’t in any hurry to settle down.
And the longer he’d put off having The Talk with Ginny, the more significant it had become. She’d returned to school with nothing resolved between them and had nodded goodbye to him as Ron and Hermione had practiced their non-verbal skills, beside them.
Harry had teased Ron about it and Ron had claimed his non-verbal skills meant he could go undercover and look like he was just snogging someone, while monitoring his target.
Harry had said he was gonna ask for another partner.
But he’d thrown himself into Auror training and had resurfaced to find out that his love life had been taken out of – or rather, left entirely in - his own hands. Terry Boot was working in Hogsmeade, and they’d wasted years teasing Ron that Terry was looking at him, because Terry was straight. Or possibly he just had a thing for redheads.
Hermione had tentatively written to Ron with the news and Ron had tentatively warned Harry that Ginny had an escort on Hogsmeade weekends. And that he was more than welcome to hang out with him and Hermione.
But Harry was too good a friend and had volunteered to work the weekend, so Ron and Hermione and one of Madam Rosmerta’s bedrooms could have some quality time together.
He couldn’t deny that it hurt to think of her with Terry, and he only denied that it was all his fault because it made him seem a bit arrogant. He thought she would probably have taken him back, that summer, if he’d been able to bring himself to have The Talk.
But then what?
He’d been shocked to walk into Ron’s room at Grimmauld Place and catch him in bed with Hermione. He wasn’t an idiot; he wasn’t shocked by sex.
Much.
But he had thought they were moving a bit fast, and what would happen if they split up? Hermione had been bizarrely nonchalant about being caught pinned to Ron’s bed by… things Harry didn’t want to think about, and had merely stilled Ron’s bobbing arse, saying it was hardly ‘too soon’, when they’d pretty much been together for seven years.
Harry had decided not to challenge that one.
But yeah, there wasn’t any point in Ron and Hermione taking things slowly and getting to know each other. They were practically married, and no doubt would be, as soon as Hermione finished her indentures at the Ministry.
And Ron got around to proposing.
Apparently he’d been far more proactive than usual about their various sexual milestones.
But Harry didn’t want to get married.
Not remotely yet, and if he and Ginny had started anything up again, well, he didn’t see how he could avoid it. And that sounded bad enough in his head, he just hoped he’d never hear himself saying it out loud.
So.
He worked hard, he dated casually, he ignored Hermione’s pitying looks.
He found himself Apparating to the Burrow for lunch one Saturday in early March, for the more sedate and familial part of Ron’s twenty-first birthday celebrations, carrying a gift wrapped pair of Keeper’s gloves – the gift wrapped pair of fluffy handcuffs were back at Grimmauld Place, and he’d pop back for them, later, on the way to the Leaky Cauldron for a vast amount of alcohol and debauchery.
Well, a vast amount of stories from Seamus about his latest Nárbhflaith, Scoithniamh, Éibhleann or, on one memorable occasion that Harry still thought was Seamus winding them up, Kevin. And increasingly clumsy attempts by George and Lee to either debauch an innocent bystander with large breasts, or to get Ron to spill the beans about Hermione.
Quite why George was so obsessed with Hermione’s oral technique was something Harry didn’t want to know about.
But it was the first time he’d seen daylight beyond a dirty London street for months, and the trees around the Burrow were bursting with leaves; flowers and… stuff were peeping through the grass. Gnomes were gathering around a dug over flowerbed, coiling earthworms into a small large basket.
Birds of some sort were singing.
OK, he was a complete city dweller, but he could appreciate the countryside in small doses. As long as camping wasn’t involved; he’d had enough of camping.
But he was the only thing in the garden not bursting with new life. Maybe it was time to talk to Ginny.
He pushed the back door open and stepped into the kitchen.
“Hello stranger,” Ginny said, her hand buried in a chicken’s arse.
Harry blinked at the charming picture she made, with the spring sunshine streaming through the kitchen window and turning her hair to… something red and poetic. There. He’d only just sort of decided he should think of Ginny That Way again, and here she was, fisting a chicken.
It was an omen.
“Hi,” he said winningly. “Where is everyone?”
“Cheers, Harry,” Ginny said, thrusting her hand deep inside the chicken, twisting her wrist and making his eyes water.
“I meant where’s Ron,” he said.
She shook her head sadly.
“Mum is showing Hermione his baby photos, so he went out to the shed with Dad,” she said.
“He’s not usually that easily embarrassed, is he?” Harry asked.
“Ah, well,” she said, reaching for more stuffing. “The pictures were being used to illustrate how cute her children were gonna be.”
“Yikes,” Harry said. “Poor Ron.”
“Hmmm.”
“So… shed,” he said, backing towards the door and vaguely waving Ron’s gift. “Lunch… later.”
He could hear her rolling her eyes as he went back out into the garden.
Arthur passed him on the path to the shed, gleefully indicating the electric kettle he was holding and saying, “Ron is hiding in the shed, while his womenfolk pick names for his children.”
Harry laughed and entered the shed.
Ron was sitting on a workbench, glumly tossing a plug from hand to hand.
“Happy Birthday,” Harry said, hopping up beside him and holding out his gift.
“My birthday was on Thursday,” Ron said, ripping the paper and toasting Harry happily with a glove.
“I didn’t see you on Thursday,” Harry said.
“I haven’t seen you this year,” Ron grumbled.
Harry shrugged. “They’ll let up on us once we qualify,” he said. “And I took this weekend off ‘specially.”
“I’m deeply touched.”
“I don’t wanna know about your sex life.”
“Don’t wanna know what Hermione does with her tongue?” Ron sniggered.
“No!”
“No!” echoed Neville, from the doorway. “Ginny said you were both skulking out here.”
“For me?” Ron asked, nodding at the bunch of tulips in Neville’s hands.
“For Hermione,” Neville said.
“You making a move on my bird?” Ron asked, raising an eyebrow.
“You want me to tell her you call her ‘your bird’?” Harry asked and Ron snorted.
“She wanted some of our latest hybrid,” Neville said. “I promised I’d bring some this afternoon, as they wouldn’t survive the night of debauchery at the Leaky.”
“Ron isn’t allowed to be debauched,” Harry said. “Hermione’s orders.”
“I’m glad you’re here, actually, Harry,” Neville said, ignoring Ron’s protest of autonomy.
“I know,” Harry said. “No one has seen me for months.”
“No,” Neville said. “I’m not glad you’re here because I’m glad to see you, I’m glad you’re here because I have a bone to pick with you.”
“What have I done?” Harry asked.
“Well, not no one has seen you for months,” Neville said. “Ernie has seen you several times.”
“Are we jealous of Ernie, now?” Ron asked. “’Cos I saw Harry on his way out when I got home last night.”
“Ernie saw him at the pub,” Neville said. “With Hannah.”
“You’re seeing Hannah?” Ron asked. “Really? I thought you thought she was flat chested?”
“We’ve had breakfast together a few times,” Harry said. “At like midnight, when she’s closing up and I’m getting up.”
Ron waggled his eyebrows and leered excessively.
“You’re getting it up, then, are you?” he asked.
Harry snorted.
“Don’t answer that,” Neville said firmly.
“What?” Harry asked.
“I don’t want to know what you’re… up,” Neville said. “I want to know if you… mean it.”
“Mean it?” Harry echoed.
“Before I went to Holland, I was seeing quite a bit of Hannah,” Neville explained and Ron sniggered and Harry elbowed him in the ribs. “And if the two of you are, well, then I won’t. But if it’s just late night breakfast, then please stop.”
“Nev,” Harry said. “I had no idea; she didn’t say.”
“Ah,” Neville said.
“No, look,” Harry jumped down from the workbench. “We’ve hardly… it’s just… she’s the only person still awake when I get up.”
“You can’t date someone just because they’re awake,” Ron protested. “Please don’t tell Hermione this – she’ll go mental!”
“I don’t go out and look for awake women,” Harry protested. “Just she was awake when I got to the pub and we got talking and she’s great. But it’s nothing serious.”
“So, you haven’t slept with her?” Neville asked.
There was a ringing silence.
“I’d only just got up,” Harry said weakly.
“He doesn’t mean sleep,” Ron said helpfully.
“I know that,” Harry said. “Look, it was a one off thing, and it’s fine, really, she’s all yours.”
Neville was suddenly rather tall and very much in Harry’s face.
“You do not go to bed with a girl and then give her to your friend,” he said quietly.
“Nev, I swear,” Harry said. “She knows it’s casual. We agreed it’s just casual. Her hours at work are as insane as mine. If you want to date her for real, then she couldn’t do better and you have my blessing.”
Neville grunted and glared at him, but took a step back.
“And anyway,” Harry said helpfully. “I decided on my way here that it’s time I had a proper relationship.”
“And Hannah isn’t good enough for you?” Neville demanded. “Too flat chested?”
Harry blinked and Ron coughed apologetically.
“I meant I thought about Ginny,” Harry protested.
“I beg your pardon?” Ron asked quietly.
“What?” Harry blinked up at his best mate.
“You decided you need sex and assume my sister is available?”
“No… not like that,” Harry said. “I meant… I mean I think we should get back together…”
“Why now?” Ron asked bluntly.
“What?”
“You never told her why you didn’t want to see her, anymore,” Ron said. “And she moved on and she’s fine, and she has a boyfriend, and now you’re lonely and think it’s about time you got back together?”
“Not just because I’m lonely,” Harry said.
“That’s what it sounds like,” Neville said.
“Because I couldn’t have had an… adult relationship with Ginny and broken up and still been… part of the family,” he said, swallowing audibly.
He and Ron stared at each other.
“And you decided this morning that you’re ready for the happy ever after with Ginny?” Neville asked, breaking the Moment.
“Uh… yeah,” Harry said.
“Why this morning?” Ron asked.
“The gnomes were… coiling up these enormous earthworms… like ropes, and, and, they had a basketful, and…” he trailed off at the look on their faces.
“You decided to… fuck my sister, because the gnomes were coiling up earthworms?” Ron asked.
“Sort of,” Harry said and Neville snorted and Ron grasped his plug threateningly. “But not just the worms.”
“I don’t know what you’re worried about, Ron,” Neville said comfortingly.
“You weren’t this calm when you were defending Hannah,” Ron protested.
“How’ll Ginny react when he says ‘I need you, like a gnome needs a worm’?” Neville asked. “We should sell tickets.”
Ron sniggered.
“It was sunny,” Harry said earnestly, “and the gnomes were busy and the birds were singing and everything was bursting into life. And I thought of Ginny.”
Ron rubbed his jaw and looked at his best mate.
“What am I gonna do with you?” he said.
Harry shrugged.
“I’m not exactly renowned for my romantic words,” Ron said. “But even I can tell that’s not gonna work.”
“It has a certain charm,” Neville said encouragingly.
“To a herbologist, maybe,” Ron said. “But he’s not trying to get into your pants.”
“Does he really need to be romantic, straight off?” Neville asked. “She’s got a boyfriend, so he can’t be too touchy feely. He just needs to lay his cards on the table. Let her know he’s interested.”
“She’s been seeing Will for six months,” Ron said. “Romance is dead, she’ll be swept off her feet if he really lays it on thick.”
“What d’you suggest, then?”
“Well, I liked the stuff about being part of the family,” Ron said.
“You’re gonna make him say ‘I want Ron to be my brother’?” Neville shook his head sadly. “That’s why you want them back together.”
Ron flushed.
Harry sat down and picked up a screwdriver and a plug, as it looked like they’d be some time.
He’d fixed four appliances by the time Ron and Neville were satisfied with his lines, and he trailed after them back into the house, looking for Ginny.
Hermione was sitting at the kitchen table staring blankly into a cup of tea.
“Where’s Gin?” Ron asked her, pouring a cup for Harry, to strengthen him.
“What’s wrong?” Neville asked her, offering his tulips.
“Hmmm?” Hermione said, blinking them into focus. “Oh, Neville, they’re lovely; I’m terribly excited - are you sure about the prophylactic properties?”
Harry choked on his tea.
“You’re giving Hermione contraceptive tulips?” he spluttered.
“What?” Ron shouted. “Where are you gonna stick them?”
Hermione sighed heavily.
“Much as I am in the mood to develop new contraceptives – your mother wants you to have three boys and a girl, by the way, Ron,” she said, “prophylactic also means any preventative drug, such as a vaccine.”
Ron grunted and topped up Harry’s tea cup.
“So, where’s Gin?” he asked again.
“In the living room,” Hermione said, “your mum has pinned her down with her own baby photos.”
“No,” Harry said.
“Perfect timing,” Ron said excitedly.
“No,” Harry repeated.
Ron untangled some Extendable Ears from his pocket and handed one to Neville.
“What’s going on?” Hermione asked.
“Harry’s got this fantastic speech to win Ginny back,” Ron said happily. “She won’t know what hit her.”
Hermione looked surprised and Harry looked trapped, but Ron and Neville herded him out the door and into the living room.
Ginny and Mrs Weasley looked up as the door closed behind him and Harry had no idea how to get rid of their witness, because it wasn’t in his script.
“Um,” he said, adlibbing wildly.
“Harry, dear,” Mrs Weasley said, “have you been in the shed all this time?”
“Ron,” he said.
“Don’t you see enough of the boy?” she asked. “Come here and look at this; have you ever seen a lovelier baby?”
She patted the cushion beside her and he found himself sitting at the opposite end of the couch from Ginny, looking at each other as Mrs Weasley bent over her album cooing over Ginny’s bare bottom on a sheepskin rug.
Harry blinked several times, his opening line tasting like chalk in his mouth.
“I’ve waited for you to be a woman,” he blurted out.
“What?” Ginny asked.
“Harry?” Mrs Weasley said suspiciously.
“Will isn’t big enough for you,” he said.
Someone thumped the door urgently.
“Good enough,” Harry said. “Will isn’t good enough for you.”
Ginny frowned.
“And you think my love life is your business, do you?” she asked.
Harry opened his mouth and looked confused.
“Yes, I do,” he said.
“I beg your pardon?”
“No,” he said. “I thought you were gonna say ‘and you think you’re good enough, do you?’.”
Both women gaped at him.
“You can’t do this,” Ginny said finally.
“He doesn’t love you like I… might,” Harry said lamely, having held out against Ron’s preferred ‘do’.
“Might?” Ginny echoed.
There was a groaning noise in the hallway.
“He doesn’t love your family like I do,” Harry continued, having gladly conceded this point to Ron.
Ginny stood up and strode over to the door, ripping it open and stepping back as Ron and Neville fell at her feet.
She snatched the Extendable Ears from their hands and kicked her brother in the ribs.
“Out!” she snapped, watching them scramble to their feet. “Leave poor Harry alone!”
Both interlopers loped off back to the kitchen and Ginny squared her shoulders and turned back to face her mother and her pathetic suitor.
“Mum, can you give us a moment, please,” she said, her eyes on Harry’s miserable face.
Mrs Weasley tutted and stood up.
“Ginny,” she said.
“Please,” Ginny said politely, and her mother sighed and left the room.
Harry stood up, looking sick.
“That wasn’t funny,” Ginny said firmly.
“I wasn’t joking,” Harry said.
She raised a cynical eyebrow. “What was that load of crap?” she demanded.
“Ron rewrote my speech,” he muttered. “He thought it wasn’t romantic enough.”
She snorted. “And that was romantic?”
“I had to edit some out as I went along,” he admitted. “Stuff about your breasts that I couldn’t say in front of your mum.”
“Ron…” she swallowed. “Ron wrote you lines about my breasts?”
Harry shrugged. “Romantic stuff,” he assured her. “Nothing kinky.”
“You thought I would break up with my boyfriend if you said romantic things about my breasts?” she asked slowly.
“If I told you I was… ready,” he said.
“Ready for me to dump my boyfriend?” she said dangerously.
He noticed.
“Ready to stop keeping away from you,” he admitted. “Ready to risk losing your family if I couldn’t keep you happy.”
“Hmmm,” she said, her lip twitching. “That’s a bit better.”
“That’s one of mine,” he said.
She rolled her eyes.
“So,” she said. “Despite currently shagging Hannah Abbott, you have decided you cannot live without me.”
He blinked.
“Zach Smith is dating the Harpies’ Seeker,” she explained. “He thinks Hannah could do better for herself.”
“I wasn’t ready,” he said.
“But now you are?”
“I really think I am,” he said. “I really don’t think we’d’ve lasted if we got together when we were sixteen and seventeen, what with you at school and me training, and then I’d’ve lost my chance and you and your family.”
“And now?”
“Now you’re on the first team, and I’ve almost qualified and we’re… who we’re gonna be,” he said. “And we can be them together.”
“And you came to this realisation today.”
“It’s… Spring,” he said weakly.
“And your sap is rising?” she asked.
“It was sunny,” Harry said earnestly, “and the birds were singing and everything was bursting into life. And I thought of you.”
“Oh,” she said, her eyes wide.
“And the gnomes were… coiling up these enormous earthworms… like ropes, and, and, they had a basketful, and…” he trailed off.
“Worms?” she asked weakly.
“That’s why Ron rewrote my speech,” he admitted.
“Worms.”
“Worms.”
“You should have stopped at the ‘being who we are gonna be, together’ bit,” she said.
“I blew it?” he asked miserably.
“No,” she said gently. “Because that line would sound pretty good, when I break up with Will; he won’t understand the worms.”
She laughed and leapt into his arms and there was a muffled cheer from the hallway.