Gift for: cibjasfad - (Attempted) Autumn Holiday
Title: (Attempted) Autumn Holiday (or: Why Must the Best Laid Plans Go Kaboom?)
Gift for: cibjasfad
Author: deadwoodpecker
Pairing: Harry/Ginny; Ron/Hermione
Rating: G/PG
Word Count: 1,500
Summary: Romantic plans go disastrously awry for Harry and Ginny.
Ginny blundered through the Harpy’s Den, the little pub right outside the stadium. The Harpies were just like any other team in the professional Quidditch circuit - the surrounding area lived and breathed their colors, and right after their first scrimmage game of the season? Everyone who lived within fifty miles was here tonight. Plus a few extras who didn’t live in the area, like family.
And there was only one man in the Eastern Hemisphere who would have the balls to wear the blazing orange eyesore that was a Cannons jersey.
“Ron!” she cried, rushing toward him. Tucking down low, she made her way to where she’d seen that bright patch of color. The music swelled, and bodies crushed closer together. Feet stomped to the driving beat, and Ginny’s eyes welled with tears of frustration. It had been a long while, a busy season, and with the short break they had, they were going on an autumn holiday. Emphasis on short break. The stars had aligned perfectly (as Luna Lovegood had told Ginny just last week), and they were finally going to have some precious time together.
If Ron was here, Harry was not far behind. It had been a month long separation that included two missions to Scotland and Wales on super-secretive Auror business (on Harry’s part), and two weeks of hellish Quidditch training (on Ginny’s). “Ron!” she shouted, already feeling the rush of exhilaration that accompanied the immediacy of seeing Harry.
The patch of orange appeared and disappeared, eclipsed by the surge of bodies. As she drew closer, she saw bushy brown hair falling over Ron’s shoulder.
Finally, as though he waited for the precise moment when she could see him, Ginny found herself looking into those bright green eyes. His head was tilted, his smile a little lop-sided. But she watched him notice her, and the butterflies that never really went away when Harry was near, decided to dance as enthusiastically as the patrons of the pub.
She catapulted into his arms, and grinned up at him. “Are you ready to go?”
HPGWHPGWHPGWHPGWHPGWHPGW
The moment Ginny launched herself into his arms, Harry felt an absurd mix of cold dread and absolute elation. Dread, because of how he - and Ron, he grimly amended, cutting a glare at his best mate - had flubbed their latest adventure. And the elation? Well, Ginny was in his arms. It was a knee-jerk reaction.
“Hullo, love,” he said gamely, firmly pushing his thoughts away, determined to enjoy the next five minutes without the second shoe dropping.
This worked for precisely ten seconds, long enough for Harry to really start enjoying the feel of Ginny’s lips against his. But when Ginny pulled away, the bad thoughts took the opportunity to sidle in.
Item one (and really what caused the rest of the trouble): Ron was many things, but being good with the women in his life was not one of them. Harry kicked himself for even thinking that this time it would be different. True, the romantic holiday beginning at Platform 7 1/2 had appealed to the part of himself that still missed Hogwarts. It was a large part. When Ron dropped the casual mention of a train that departed from King’s Cross Station and meandered its way through the wizarding villages of Great Britain, Harry had thought What a wonderful holiday that would be. He had booked the tickets for himself and Ginny to go during their brief break, and had hoped for the best.
Fat lot of good that had done him.
Item two: Ron was a very good wizard, but he was a little too enthusiastic when using spells that wreaked total havoc and destruction. Whenever this happened, Harry couldn’t help but join in the fun.
It was not fun, he told himself sternly.
“What’s up with him?” Ginny’s voice pierced his thoughts.
He looked down at her, but she was busy staring down Hermione.
Hermione, devilish witch that she was, smiled smugly, then pointed at Ron, then Harry. “Those two,” she announced, “are in so much trouble.”
HPGWHPGWHPGWHPGWHPGWHPGWHPGW
Ginny felt her stomach drop like a stone, and a shadow of the old fear that used to haunt her crept into her heart. Ghostly fingers slithered down her spine, and Ginny drew her wand. But before it could get too far, she pulled herself together, jutted out her jaw, and aimed a truly righteous glare at Ron. “What did you do?” she asked. It was best to maintain a firm hand with her brothers; if they felt they could get away with something, they would try to get away with everything.
“We had a… spot of bother,” Ron said delicately, rubbing a finger along his long nose, and eyeing her wand. “I’m afraid that your holiday might be ruined.” After uttering these words, he slumped forward with relief. “Feels good to get it off my chest. Been worrying about it all day.”
Ginny stared at him blankly. Spot of bother and ruined holiday did not make very much sense when put together in this context. “You… had a spot of bother, and my holiday might be ruined?” She asked carefully.
Ron jabbed a finger at her. “Don’t you be sounding like Mum,” he accused. “It’s not like we’re really in trouble. Harry’s still like the king of the department, he’s practically worshiped, he is.” Though the words sounded sharp, the cheerful grin showed Ginny that he enjoyed the perks of partnering the man who could do no wrong (at least in the eyes of those who didn’t know him - for those who knew Harry, really knew him, they just treated him like a normal bloke who could sometimes be a prat).
“Why do you look so happy?” Ginny asked suspiciously. “You look live you’ve just finished one of Mum’s Christmas feasts.”
“Now, Ginny,” Harry began.
Ginny had been carefully avoiding him. One of the many wonderful things about Harry was that he could send all her thoughts out the window and distract her from anything, possibly even dire peril. At the moment, though, that just wasn’t helpful. Sometimes, it was best to just focus her attention (and irritation) for someone less handsome, like Ron.
“What’s going on?” She asked.
It was Hermione who answered her. “They blew up a train,” she said.
“Uh,” Ginny managed.
“The damage wasn’t permanent, but they’ll be a few weeks fixing it,” Harry added quickly. “Way to just jump right in, Hermione,” he grumbled.
“And you didn’t do it nearly enough justice!” Ron put in. “You always take all the drama out of my best stories.”
“Oh Ron,” Hermione said. “Someday, I hope your best stories will not involve exploding trains.”
“Well, all my stories fit for public ears involve my work stuff,” Ron said affably, then leaned over to give her a quick kiss. “The rest involve you, and you don’t like it when I talk about those.”
While her brother was conducting his ghastly, ham-handed flirtation, Ginny was putting together the pieces. On their secret Auror mission, Harry and Ron had blown up a train. Now Harry claimed her holiday was ruined…
“You blew up the Cozy Creeper?!” Ginny gasped, turning wide, shocked eyes to Harry.
“Well, no one was hurt…” Harry said feebly. “And it was an accident.”
But all Ginny could do was gape at him.
All at once, Ginny felt her expectations for her holiday evaporate. Actually, it was more like popped. Or possibly even exploded like the poor train Ron and Harry had felt the need to blow up. Disappointment could have filled the void, but it didn’t. Ginny could have been angry, but she wasn’t. She could have demanded that he find somewhere else to take her, but she didn’t. Instead, she felt warmth wash over her. She let it take her away, and she turned to look at Harry.
“You know it doesn’t matter,” she said quietly. “We can spend the next few days at home.” She spared a brief glare for her brother. “Home alone.” She leaned toward Harry, and grinned. The image of the train exploding was actually quite funny, especially since no one was hurt, and the damage wasn’t permanent. “Now, tell me! How on earth did this happen? Was the explosion big? Did the Muggles hear it?”
Harry reached into his pocket. “Here,” he grinned back at her, obviously relieved. “Kingsley took pictures. He thought it was a riot.”
Gift for: cibjasfad
Author: deadwoodpecker
Pairing: Harry/Ginny; Ron/Hermione
Rating: G/PG
Word Count: 1,500
Summary: Romantic plans go disastrously awry for Harry and Ginny.
Ginny blundered through the Harpy’s Den, the little pub right outside the stadium. The Harpies were just like any other team in the professional Quidditch circuit - the surrounding area lived and breathed their colors, and right after their first scrimmage game of the season? Everyone who lived within fifty miles was here tonight. Plus a few extras who didn’t live in the area, like family.
And there was only one man in the Eastern Hemisphere who would have the balls to wear the blazing orange eyesore that was a Cannons jersey.
“Ron!” she cried, rushing toward him. Tucking down low, she made her way to where she’d seen that bright patch of color. The music swelled, and bodies crushed closer together. Feet stomped to the driving beat, and Ginny’s eyes welled with tears of frustration. It had been a long while, a busy season, and with the short break they had, they were going on an autumn holiday. Emphasis on short break. The stars had aligned perfectly (as Luna Lovegood had told Ginny just last week), and they were finally going to have some precious time together.
If Ron was here, Harry was not far behind. It had been a month long separation that included two missions to Scotland and Wales on super-secretive Auror business (on Harry’s part), and two weeks of hellish Quidditch training (on Ginny’s). “Ron!” she shouted, already feeling the rush of exhilaration that accompanied the immediacy of seeing Harry.
The patch of orange appeared and disappeared, eclipsed by the surge of bodies. As she drew closer, she saw bushy brown hair falling over Ron’s shoulder.
Finally, as though he waited for the precise moment when she could see him, Ginny found herself looking into those bright green eyes. His head was tilted, his smile a little lop-sided. But she watched him notice her, and the butterflies that never really went away when Harry was near, decided to dance as enthusiastically as the patrons of the pub.
She catapulted into his arms, and grinned up at him. “Are you ready to go?”
HPGWHPGWHPGWHPGWHPGWHPGW
The moment Ginny launched herself into his arms, Harry felt an absurd mix of cold dread and absolute elation. Dread, because of how he - and Ron, he grimly amended, cutting a glare at his best mate - had flubbed their latest adventure. And the elation? Well, Ginny was in his arms. It was a knee-jerk reaction.
“Hullo, love,” he said gamely, firmly pushing his thoughts away, determined to enjoy the next five minutes without the second shoe dropping.
This worked for precisely ten seconds, long enough for Harry to really start enjoying the feel of Ginny’s lips against his. But when Ginny pulled away, the bad thoughts took the opportunity to sidle in.
Item one (and really what caused the rest of the trouble): Ron was many things, but being good with the women in his life was not one of them. Harry kicked himself for even thinking that this time it would be different. True, the romantic holiday beginning at Platform 7 1/2 had appealed to the part of himself that still missed Hogwarts. It was a large part. When Ron dropped the casual mention of a train that departed from King’s Cross Station and meandered its way through the wizarding villages of Great Britain, Harry had thought What a wonderful holiday that would be. He had booked the tickets for himself and Ginny to go during their brief break, and had hoped for the best.
Fat lot of good that had done him.
Item two: Ron was a very good wizard, but he was a little too enthusiastic when using spells that wreaked total havoc and destruction. Whenever this happened, Harry couldn’t help but join in the fun.
It was not fun, he told himself sternly.
“What’s up with him?” Ginny’s voice pierced his thoughts.
He looked down at her, but she was busy staring down Hermione.
Hermione, devilish witch that she was, smiled smugly, then pointed at Ron, then Harry. “Those two,” she announced, “are in so much trouble.”
HPGWHPGWHPGWHPGWHPGWHPGWHPGW
Ginny felt her stomach drop like a stone, and a shadow of the old fear that used to haunt her crept into her heart. Ghostly fingers slithered down her spine, and Ginny drew her wand. But before it could get too far, she pulled herself together, jutted out her jaw, and aimed a truly righteous glare at Ron. “What did you do?” she asked. It was best to maintain a firm hand with her brothers; if they felt they could get away with something, they would try to get away with everything.
“We had a… spot of bother,” Ron said delicately, rubbing a finger along his long nose, and eyeing her wand. “I’m afraid that your holiday might be ruined.” After uttering these words, he slumped forward with relief. “Feels good to get it off my chest. Been worrying about it all day.”
Ginny stared at him blankly. Spot of bother and ruined holiday did not make very much sense when put together in this context. “You… had a spot of bother, and my holiday might be ruined?” She asked carefully.
Ron jabbed a finger at her. “Don’t you be sounding like Mum,” he accused. “It’s not like we’re really in trouble. Harry’s still like the king of the department, he’s practically worshiped, he is.” Though the words sounded sharp, the cheerful grin showed Ginny that he enjoyed the perks of partnering the man who could do no wrong (at least in the eyes of those who didn’t know him - for those who knew Harry, really knew him, they just treated him like a normal bloke who could sometimes be a prat).
“Why do you look so happy?” Ginny asked suspiciously. “You look live you’ve just finished one of Mum’s Christmas feasts.”
“Now, Ginny,” Harry began.
Ginny had been carefully avoiding him. One of the many wonderful things about Harry was that he could send all her thoughts out the window and distract her from anything, possibly even dire peril. At the moment, though, that just wasn’t helpful. Sometimes, it was best to just focus her attention (and irritation) for someone less handsome, like Ron.
“What’s going on?” She asked.
It was Hermione who answered her. “They blew up a train,” she said.
“Uh,” Ginny managed.
“The damage wasn’t permanent, but they’ll be a few weeks fixing it,” Harry added quickly. “Way to just jump right in, Hermione,” he grumbled.
“And you didn’t do it nearly enough justice!” Ron put in. “You always take all the drama out of my best stories.”
“Oh Ron,” Hermione said. “Someday, I hope your best stories will not involve exploding trains.”
“Well, all my stories fit for public ears involve my work stuff,” Ron said affably, then leaned over to give her a quick kiss. “The rest involve you, and you don’t like it when I talk about those.”
While her brother was conducting his ghastly, ham-handed flirtation, Ginny was putting together the pieces. On their secret Auror mission, Harry and Ron had blown up a train. Now Harry claimed her holiday was ruined…
“You blew up the Cozy Creeper?!” Ginny gasped, turning wide, shocked eyes to Harry.
“Well, no one was hurt…” Harry said feebly. “And it was an accident.”
But all Ginny could do was gape at him.
All at once, Ginny felt her expectations for her holiday evaporate. Actually, it was more like popped. Or possibly even exploded like the poor train Ron and Harry had felt the need to blow up. Disappointment could have filled the void, but it didn’t. Ginny could have been angry, but she wasn’t. She could have demanded that he find somewhere else to take her, but she didn’t. Instead, she felt warmth wash over her. She let it take her away, and she turned to look at Harry.
“You know it doesn’t matter,” she said quietly. “We can spend the next few days at home.” She spared a brief glare for her brother. “Home alone.” She leaned toward Harry, and grinned. The image of the train exploding was actually quite funny, especially since no one was hurt, and the damage wasn’t permanent. “Now, tell me! How on earth did this happen? Was the explosion big? Did the Muggles hear it?”
Harry reached into his pocket. “Here,” he grinned back at her, obviously relieved. “Kingsley took pictures. He thought it was a riot.”