The Portkey Chronicles
Here's the last story in the series, which happens to be H/G's first Portkey stop on their way home. Er - right. Well, I wasn't planning on writing these stories in the first place, so they came to me out of chronological order.
Title: Australia
Summary: Harry and Ginny visit the Hold-On Broom Factory
Word Count:2752
Aussie pick me! Thanks to rdprice29 for cleaning up my comma mess. (Well, she started it with her Taj Mahal question. *huggles Rachael*)
Australia
The Hold-On broom factory was not a typical tourist destination, but it was the place Ginny most wanted to visit during their stay in Australia. Ironically, it wasn’t recommended to ride brooms to the broom factory since Hold-Ons were manufactured in the “Back of Bourke,” as the desk clerk told them. It would take several hard days of flying across arid scrubland to reach the place. So, after spending a few days at a luxury resort on the Gold Coast, Harry and Ginny took a Portkey to Nullarbor, in South Australia.
Now that they were in front of the dusty brick buildings, Harry could see why the company chose this remote place to make brooms. They could test fly anytime they wanted without worrying about being seen by Muggles.
“Look” Ginny pointed to two wizards already flying through the bright blue morning sky. “I wonder what they’re testing today?”
“Dunno,” Harry answered. “Let’s ask the bloke with the clipboard.”
The bloke with the clipboard turned out to be Peregrine Holden, co-owner of the Hold-On Broom Company, the same wizard who had awarded Ginny her trophy after the Strait Race. He remembered Ginny of course, although Harry could tell she was surprised to be recognized. It never ceased to amaze him how oblivious Ginny was to the attention she received. Just her red hair alone made her stand out.
Mr. Holden gave Harry a quick nod and then starting talking to Ginny with such enthusiasm that the nostrils in his beaky nose started to quiver. “We’ve been trying out your sequence on all of our stock models. Mike’s flying our longest broomstick, the Brougham.” He beamed. “It’s a beaut of a luxury broom and perfect for your charms since there’s plenty of room for your acceleration sequence and the Braking Charms needed for such a heavy stick.”
Ginny colored prettily and started asking questions about how they spliced the charms together. While Mr. Holden was answering her, Mike, the test flier, landed next to Ginny with a flourish.
“G’day,” he said to Ginny, raking her curvy figure with twinkling eyes. “You must be the witch who designed this sequence.”
Harry hated him on the spot. Not only was Mike good-looking in that tanned outdoorsy way, he also had a cool job. To his relief, Ginny lifted her chin at his leering and gave him a frosty stare that would have made McGonagall proud. “Yes,” she answered.
“Crikey! That’s one good sequence!” Mike exclaimed with a grin, not at all put out by her reserve. “I never thought I’d get that bloated Brougham off the ground with the factory charms. It’s got six stubbie holders on it -“
“Stubbie holders?” Ginny interrupted.
“Sorry, stubbies are beer bottles. Management thinks the upscale broom owner is looking for cup holders.”
Mr. Holden was not amused. “Mike, if you’ve sold as many brooms as I have, you’d know -“
“If I had sold as many brooms as you, I’d have a skybox for Thunderer’s games and all the pretty witches I could - “
“As you can see,” Mr. Holden interrupted, “Being a test flier is really more about nerve than common sense or manners.”
“So who tested your broom?” Mike asked Ginny, ignoring Mr. Holden completely. “Don’t tell me a beautiful witch like you did something so dangerous.”
“All right, I won’t tell you then,” Ginny snapped. She threw Harry a get-me-away-from -this-idiot look.
“Ginny did all the test flying herself,” Harry said, glad to finally have a chance to make his presence known. “I flew with her a few times, but she did everything.”
“Oh!” Mike tore his gaze away from Ginny and looked at Harry in surprise. “Didn’t see you there, mate.” He stuck out his hand. “So you fly, do you? Lucky break you have a broom. I thought all you Pommys used that Floo Network.”
“I fly,” he said.
“Good thing,” Mike said easily. “All blokes should fly - a witch, it doesn’t matter so much, but -“
Ginny’s eyes were flashing and her face was an ominous red. “I beg your pardon?” she asked in a low, dangerous voice. “What did you just say?”
“Like I said, to be a test flier, you don’t need common sense,” Mr. Holden said hastily, stepping between them. “Mike still has several hours of testing to do and I want to show you the factory now.”
Mike gave Ginny a roguish wink and casually straddled his broom. “I’ll be thinking of you.” Then he took off, pushing the broom through the charm sequence so fast that he was above the roof line in seconds. He really could fly, Harry thought grudgingly. But his mood lightened when he saw the scowl Ginny gave Mike as he flew away.
Mr. Holden toured them through the main factory first. They saw the basic ute broom being assembled in conveyor belt fashion - except there was no mechanical belt - the brooms were all in the air and stopped at each assembly station to have charms or twigs or polish added. There was so much to see that Harry hardly noticed all the wizards staring at Ginny as she walked through the factory.
By the time they reached the Experimental Building, Harry felt he had learned more than enough about brooms. In order to fly, he didn’t need to know the optimal ratio of twigs to handle or which broomstick coatings worked best in hot, dry conditions.
Ginny, however, was in seventh heaven. She asked questions of the workers. She exclaimed over sticks of unfinished wood that looked like kindling to Harry. She laughed and frowned and on occasion caught his eye whenever something struck her as important.
Even though he didn’t care that much about broom manufacturing, he was having fun watching her having fun.
The Experimental Building was quieter than the main factory and smelled of wood dust and broom polish. Magic tickled his nose and made his scalp tingle. Soon the conversation turned even more technical.
“This stick is made from the wood of the quandong tree,” Mr. Holden explained, putting what looked to be a thin gnarled branch in Ginny’s hands. “We’re experimenting with native woods. We’ve had good luck with the candlebark gum . . .”
Harry tuned the wizard out and just watched Ginny. She was dressed in her navy blue “career” robes as she called them. Harry knew that she thought they made her look all- business, but there was no way she could hide what an attractive woman she was. Luckily, Mr. Holden was old enough to be her grandfather and was more interested in her thoughts on brooms than anything else.
And she did have a lot of thoughts about brooms.
Until today, Harry had no idea. She had told him what she doing to prepare for the Strait Race, of course, but he never realized how much she loved brooms in general, or that she had thought about such things as using different types of twigs in a bundle to balance the properties of stability and aerodynamics.
Once Ginny had talked to everyone in the experimental brooms building, Mr. Holden wanted her to meet some of the other Hold-On executives. “Maybe we could talk you into taking a job with us,” he said seriously. “You should think about it. The broom industry is tightly controlled in England. Here the sky’s the limit for what you could try.”
“Well, I - “ She looked helplessly at Harry.
“We’ve been in New Zealand for a year,” Harry said. “And we’re going back to England to our new house and . . .” He held Ginny’s gaze, feeling guilty. What if this was something Ginny really wanted to do? She had given him a year to be trained. Maybe he should do that for her.
“And,” Ginny added quickly. “We’re really not looking to emigrate right now.” Her eyes were big and sincere. “Although I loved seeing your factory and this would be a wonderful place to work.”
Mr. Holden looked pleased. “We have a hard time recruiting new talent since Nullarbor is off the beaten path, but if you love brooms . . .”
“I do love brooms,” Ginny said quietly. “But there are other things I love more.”
*
Mr. Holden let them take up the Brougham after treating them to lunch. Harry wanted Mike to see that Ginny was in control of the broom, and made his point by settling into one of the plush cushioning charms and putting his fizzy drink in the cup holder. Mike began to explain the features of the broom, but Ginny ignored him.
“Ready, Harry?” she called over her shoulder and then pushed off before he had a chance to say anything.
Her hair streamed out behind her as they flew away from the factory. The edge of the horizon, where the flat brown land met the blue sky was so far away that the line was pale blue and fuzzy.
It was the first time Harry had ever let someone else fly him around, and he felt a bit awkward - as if he had extra hands and feet. But soon the novelty of being on a big quiet broom, sheltered by charms from the hot wind and the blazing sun, relaxed him and he began to notice the land below them. He spotted a mouse - or maybe it was something else - skittering across the hard-packed earth.
“Think we’ll see any kangaroos?” he asked.
“That would make Ron happy,” she answered.
Then Harry felt the broom drop slightly. “What was that?” he asked. This was not the place to stall out on a broom.
“It’s a segue point in the magic,” Ginny answered. “Usually a racing broom just speeds up as you go through a sequence, but I wanted spots where I could get my bearings for a second or two.”
They were riding a broom using Ginny’s magic, Harry marveled. And somehow, the way this broom handled was just like her - forthright and steady - with a few surprises thrown in. She really was talented, he thought with pride. “So what did you think of the broom factory?”
“It was brilliant,” she answered, turning around to smile at him. “That one bloke in the Experimental Building knew so much about twigs, I couldn’t believe it. I could watch him work for hours.”
“Do you want to do more with brooms?” he blurted.
She raised her eyebrows, and pulled up on the broom to slow it.
“I thought you were just messing around this year to give you something to do whilst I was in training, but if this is something you love . . .”
They were now hovering forty feet in the air. The broom was so long, that Ginny easily swiveled her cushion so she could face him with her knees touching his.
“Didn’t you hear what I told Mr. Holden?”
“That you love brooms, but you love other things more,” he answered, not really sure what he wanted to hear from Ginny.
“That’s still my answer,” she said, cocking her head. “I want to go home. I want to see my family. I want to see our house.”
“Yes, but after all of that excitement, what are you going to do?”
She stared at him a moment and bit her lip as if she was trying to decide what to say. “Well, after we’re settled in the house, it will soon be Christmas. And, of course, I’ll help you with establishing a Search and Rescue program and . . .”
It all sounded so dreary and predictable - not like test flying brooms or trying out new magic. “But Ginny, you could do so much more. You have done so much more!”
“Maybe we’ll have a baby,” she said. Her eyes were very bright with emotion - but what emotion, he didn’t know.
“Maybe.” His stomach flipped at the thought, but he wasn’t quite ready to think about that. He looked down and was startled to see several kangaroos hopping between the dusty shrubs.
“We don’t belong here,” Ginny said after he looked from the kangaroos to her. “Oh, I suppose we could belong here if we tried.”
He nodded. They had managed to make a life for themselves in New Zealand and he was rather proud of that.
“But we have so much waiting for us back home.”
“We do,” he said. “But none of that is important if you’re not happy.”
“Harry,” she said through gritted teeth. “We’ve had this conversation before.”
They had had this conversation before - and it had been the worst row of their marriage, that first night in New Zealand after she had been rejected for training. Ginny was getting angry again, but he wasn’t going to drop it. “I just watched the head of a major broom company offer you a job. Those blokes in Experimental Brooms couldn’t stop talking to you. How are you going to learn more about brooms if you go back to England?”
“How did I learn about brooms in the first place?” she retorted. “Everything I know I learned in between driving a bus and an ambulance and making meals and doing the washing.”
She had him there. The way Ginny had been talking today - it was almost as if she had gone to broom school or something. But she hadn’t. She had just decided to charm a broom for racing and she had done it - in spectacular fashion. He started to smile.
“What?”
“You’re such a Weasley.” He took her hand.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” She was smiling, too.
“Your last name might be Potter. And we might be flying a broom with the Patented Potter sequence, but you’re such a Weasley.”
“Harry.” She laughed. “That’s not very clear.”
“Fred and George decide they want a joke shop, so they make one of their own out of practically nothing. Your dad decides the Muggles need more protection, so he writes a law. You decide you want to make a racing broom out of a ute broom - so you go out into the potting shed and you do it.”
She giggled. “And what does a Potter do?”
“Wait for a Weasley to notice him and take him in.” He wasn’t all together joking.
“Oh, Harry,” she leaned forward and kissed him with her hands touching the back of his neck. “I had to win two Quidditch matches for you to notice me.”
He could smell that sweet, distinctive scent of her hair. “I still don’t know why I was so lucky . . .” He ran his hands down her back, feeling the curve of her hip.
“Because you’re such a Potter, that’s why.”
Then she added something about ‘extreme cuteness,’ but his brain went on holiday as she pressed against him, and he was too distracted to ask her more.
“A Brougham is a much better broomstick than a Firebolt for this sort of thing,” Harry said once they came up for air.
“A borrowed Brougham,” Ginny reminded him, pulling away and straightening her robes. Harry wished he hadn’t brought up the Brougham until she added, “And that Mike bloke is creepy enough without us coming back looking like we’ve had a session.”
The thought of anyone seeing Ginny with her hair mused up and her lips swollen from his kisses and her eyes shining with that beautiful afterglow made his blood run cold. “You’re right,” he said, awkwardly smoothing her hair. “It must have been the broomstick factory that made me lose my head.”
“What do you mean?” She frowned. “I thought you looked a bit bored during the tour.”
He smiled. “You know how Amortenia makes you smell things you love?”
Her eyes lit up. “Yeah.”
“So, the first time I ever saw it brewing during my sixth year, I smelled -“
“Treacle Tart!” she guessed.
“Right.” He laughed because it sounded so silly. “And the wood from broomsticks.”
”So that’s why you want me to work in a broom factory!”
He shook his head. “And I smelled this flowery scent that I later realized was you.”
“You later realized.” She sighed and touched his face. “Well, I’m glad we came on this trip so I could find out about your love of brooms.”
“Ginny.” He caught her wrist and then kissed her hand. “I might love brooms, but there are things I love more.”
She touched her forehead to his. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”
Title: Australia
Summary: Harry and Ginny visit the Hold-On Broom Factory
Word Count:2752
Aussie pick me! Thanks to rdprice29 for cleaning up my comma mess. (Well, she started it with her Taj Mahal question. *huggles Rachael*)
Australia
The Hold-On broom factory was not a typical tourist destination, but it was the place Ginny most wanted to visit during their stay in Australia. Ironically, it wasn’t recommended to ride brooms to the broom factory since Hold-Ons were manufactured in the “Back of Bourke,” as the desk clerk told them. It would take several hard days of flying across arid scrubland to reach the place. So, after spending a few days at a luxury resort on the Gold Coast, Harry and Ginny took a Portkey to Nullarbor, in South Australia.
Now that they were in front of the dusty brick buildings, Harry could see why the company chose this remote place to make brooms. They could test fly anytime they wanted without worrying about being seen by Muggles.
“Look” Ginny pointed to two wizards already flying through the bright blue morning sky. “I wonder what they’re testing today?”
“Dunno,” Harry answered. “Let’s ask the bloke with the clipboard.”
The bloke with the clipboard turned out to be Peregrine Holden, co-owner of the Hold-On Broom Company, the same wizard who had awarded Ginny her trophy after the Strait Race. He remembered Ginny of course, although Harry could tell she was surprised to be recognized. It never ceased to amaze him how oblivious Ginny was to the attention she received. Just her red hair alone made her stand out.
Mr. Holden gave Harry a quick nod and then starting talking to Ginny with such enthusiasm that the nostrils in his beaky nose started to quiver. “We’ve been trying out your sequence on all of our stock models. Mike’s flying our longest broomstick, the Brougham.” He beamed. “It’s a beaut of a luxury broom and perfect for your charms since there’s plenty of room for your acceleration sequence and the Braking Charms needed for such a heavy stick.”
Ginny colored prettily and started asking questions about how they spliced the charms together. While Mr. Holden was answering her, Mike, the test flier, landed next to Ginny with a flourish.
“G’day,” he said to Ginny, raking her curvy figure with twinkling eyes. “You must be the witch who designed this sequence.”
Harry hated him on the spot. Not only was Mike good-looking in that tanned outdoorsy way, he also had a cool job. To his relief, Ginny lifted her chin at his leering and gave him a frosty stare that would have made McGonagall proud. “Yes,” she answered.
“Crikey! That’s one good sequence!” Mike exclaimed with a grin, not at all put out by her reserve. “I never thought I’d get that bloated Brougham off the ground with the factory charms. It’s got six stubbie holders on it -“
“Stubbie holders?” Ginny interrupted.
“Sorry, stubbies are beer bottles. Management thinks the upscale broom owner is looking for cup holders.”
Mr. Holden was not amused. “Mike, if you’ve sold as many brooms as I have, you’d know -“
“If I had sold as many brooms as you, I’d have a skybox for Thunderer’s games and all the pretty witches I could - “
“As you can see,” Mr. Holden interrupted, “Being a test flier is really more about nerve than common sense or manners.”
“So who tested your broom?” Mike asked Ginny, ignoring Mr. Holden completely. “Don’t tell me a beautiful witch like you did something so dangerous.”
“All right, I won’t tell you then,” Ginny snapped. She threw Harry a get-me-away-from -this-idiot look.
“Ginny did all the test flying herself,” Harry said, glad to finally have a chance to make his presence known. “I flew with her a few times, but she did everything.”
“Oh!” Mike tore his gaze away from Ginny and looked at Harry in surprise. “Didn’t see you there, mate.” He stuck out his hand. “So you fly, do you? Lucky break you have a broom. I thought all you Pommys used that Floo Network.”
“I fly,” he said.
“Good thing,” Mike said easily. “All blokes should fly - a witch, it doesn’t matter so much, but -“
Ginny’s eyes were flashing and her face was an ominous red. “I beg your pardon?” she asked in a low, dangerous voice. “What did you just say?”
“Like I said, to be a test flier, you don’t need common sense,” Mr. Holden said hastily, stepping between them. “Mike still has several hours of testing to do and I want to show you the factory now.”
Mike gave Ginny a roguish wink and casually straddled his broom. “I’ll be thinking of you.” Then he took off, pushing the broom through the charm sequence so fast that he was above the roof line in seconds. He really could fly, Harry thought grudgingly. But his mood lightened when he saw the scowl Ginny gave Mike as he flew away.
Mr. Holden toured them through the main factory first. They saw the basic ute broom being assembled in conveyor belt fashion - except there was no mechanical belt - the brooms were all in the air and stopped at each assembly station to have charms or twigs or polish added. There was so much to see that Harry hardly noticed all the wizards staring at Ginny as she walked through the factory.
By the time they reached the Experimental Building, Harry felt he had learned more than enough about brooms. In order to fly, he didn’t need to know the optimal ratio of twigs to handle or which broomstick coatings worked best in hot, dry conditions.
Ginny, however, was in seventh heaven. She asked questions of the workers. She exclaimed over sticks of unfinished wood that looked like kindling to Harry. She laughed and frowned and on occasion caught his eye whenever something struck her as important.
Even though he didn’t care that much about broom manufacturing, he was having fun watching her having fun.
The Experimental Building was quieter than the main factory and smelled of wood dust and broom polish. Magic tickled his nose and made his scalp tingle. Soon the conversation turned even more technical.
“This stick is made from the wood of the quandong tree,” Mr. Holden explained, putting what looked to be a thin gnarled branch in Ginny’s hands. “We’re experimenting with native woods. We’ve had good luck with the candlebark gum . . .”
Harry tuned the wizard out and just watched Ginny. She was dressed in her navy blue “career” robes as she called them. Harry knew that she thought they made her look all- business, but there was no way she could hide what an attractive woman she was. Luckily, Mr. Holden was old enough to be her grandfather and was more interested in her thoughts on brooms than anything else.
And she did have a lot of thoughts about brooms.
Until today, Harry had no idea. She had told him what she doing to prepare for the Strait Race, of course, but he never realized how much she loved brooms in general, or that she had thought about such things as using different types of twigs in a bundle to balance the properties of stability and aerodynamics.
Once Ginny had talked to everyone in the experimental brooms building, Mr. Holden wanted her to meet some of the other Hold-On executives. “Maybe we could talk you into taking a job with us,” he said seriously. “You should think about it. The broom industry is tightly controlled in England. Here the sky’s the limit for what you could try.”
“Well, I - “ She looked helplessly at Harry.
“We’ve been in New Zealand for a year,” Harry said. “And we’re going back to England to our new house and . . .” He held Ginny’s gaze, feeling guilty. What if this was something Ginny really wanted to do? She had given him a year to be trained. Maybe he should do that for her.
“And,” Ginny added quickly. “We’re really not looking to emigrate right now.” Her eyes were big and sincere. “Although I loved seeing your factory and this would be a wonderful place to work.”
Mr. Holden looked pleased. “We have a hard time recruiting new talent since Nullarbor is off the beaten path, but if you love brooms . . .”
“I do love brooms,” Ginny said quietly. “But there are other things I love more.”
*
Mr. Holden let them take up the Brougham after treating them to lunch. Harry wanted Mike to see that Ginny was in control of the broom, and made his point by settling into one of the plush cushioning charms and putting his fizzy drink in the cup holder. Mike began to explain the features of the broom, but Ginny ignored him.
“Ready, Harry?” she called over her shoulder and then pushed off before he had a chance to say anything.
Her hair streamed out behind her as they flew away from the factory. The edge of the horizon, where the flat brown land met the blue sky was so far away that the line was pale blue and fuzzy.
It was the first time Harry had ever let someone else fly him around, and he felt a bit awkward - as if he had extra hands and feet. But soon the novelty of being on a big quiet broom, sheltered by charms from the hot wind and the blazing sun, relaxed him and he began to notice the land below them. He spotted a mouse - or maybe it was something else - skittering across the hard-packed earth.
“Think we’ll see any kangaroos?” he asked.
“That would make Ron happy,” she answered.
Then Harry felt the broom drop slightly. “What was that?” he asked. This was not the place to stall out on a broom.
“It’s a segue point in the magic,” Ginny answered. “Usually a racing broom just speeds up as you go through a sequence, but I wanted spots where I could get my bearings for a second or two.”
They were riding a broom using Ginny’s magic, Harry marveled. And somehow, the way this broom handled was just like her - forthright and steady - with a few surprises thrown in. She really was talented, he thought with pride. “So what did you think of the broom factory?”
“It was brilliant,” she answered, turning around to smile at him. “That one bloke in the Experimental Building knew so much about twigs, I couldn’t believe it. I could watch him work for hours.”
“Do you want to do more with brooms?” he blurted.
She raised her eyebrows, and pulled up on the broom to slow it.
“I thought you were just messing around this year to give you something to do whilst I was in training, but if this is something you love . . .”
They were now hovering forty feet in the air. The broom was so long, that Ginny easily swiveled her cushion so she could face him with her knees touching his.
“Didn’t you hear what I told Mr. Holden?”
“That you love brooms, but you love other things more,” he answered, not really sure what he wanted to hear from Ginny.
“That’s still my answer,” she said, cocking her head. “I want to go home. I want to see my family. I want to see our house.”
“Yes, but after all of that excitement, what are you going to do?”
She stared at him a moment and bit her lip as if she was trying to decide what to say. “Well, after we’re settled in the house, it will soon be Christmas. And, of course, I’ll help you with establishing a Search and Rescue program and . . .”
It all sounded so dreary and predictable - not like test flying brooms or trying out new magic. “But Ginny, you could do so much more. You have done so much more!”
“Maybe we’ll have a baby,” she said. Her eyes were very bright with emotion - but what emotion, he didn’t know.
“Maybe.” His stomach flipped at the thought, but he wasn’t quite ready to think about that. He looked down and was startled to see several kangaroos hopping between the dusty shrubs.
“We don’t belong here,” Ginny said after he looked from the kangaroos to her. “Oh, I suppose we could belong here if we tried.”
He nodded. They had managed to make a life for themselves in New Zealand and he was rather proud of that.
“But we have so much waiting for us back home.”
“We do,” he said. “But none of that is important if you’re not happy.”
“Harry,” she said through gritted teeth. “We’ve had this conversation before.”
They had had this conversation before - and it had been the worst row of their marriage, that first night in New Zealand after she had been rejected for training. Ginny was getting angry again, but he wasn’t going to drop it. “I just watched the head of a major broom company offer you a job. Those blokes in Experimental Brooms couldn’t stop talking to you. How are you going to learn more about brooms if you go back to England?”
“How did I learn about brooms in the first place?” she retorted. “Everything I know I learned in between driving a bus and an ambulance and making meals and doing the washing.”
She had him there. The way Ginny had been talking today - it was almost as if she had gone to broom school or something. But she hadn’t. She had just decided to charm a broom for racing and she had done it - in spectacular fashion. He started to smile.
“What?”
“You’re such a Weasley.” He took her hand.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” She was smiling, too.
“Your last name might be Potter. And we might be flying a broom with the Patented Potter sequence, but you’re such a Weasley.”
“Harry.” She laughed. “That’s not very clear.”
“Fred and George decide they want a joke shop, so they make one of their own out of practically nothing. Your dad decides the Muggles need more protection, so he writes a law. You decide you want to make a racing broom out of a ute broom - so you go out into the potting shed and you do it.”
She giggled. “And what does a Potter do?”
“Wait for a Weasley to notice him and take him in.” He wasn’t all together joking.
“Oh, Harry,” she leaned forward and kissed him with her hands touching the back of his neck. “I had to win two Quidditch matches for you to notice me.”
He could smell that sweet, distinctive scent of her hair. “I still don’t know why I was so lucky . . .” He ran his hands down her back, feeling the curve of her hip.
“Because you’re such a Potter, that’s why.”
Then she added something about ‘extreme cuteness,’ but his brain went on holiday as she pressed against him, and he was too distracted to ask her more.
“A Brougham is a much better broomstick than a Firebolt for this sort of thing,” Harry said once they came up for air.
“A borrowed Brougham,” Ginny reminded him, pulling away and straightening her robes. Harry wished he hadn’t brought up the Brougham until she added, “And that Mike bloke is creepy enough without us coming back looking like we’ve had a session.”
The thought of anyone seeing Ginny with her hair mused up and her lips swollen from his kisses and her eyes shining with that beautiful afterglow made his blood run cold. “You’re right,” he said, awkwardly smoothing her hair. “It must have been the broomstick factory that made me lose my head.”
“What do you mean?” She frowned. “I thought you looked a bit bored during the tour.”
He smiled. “You know how Amortenia makes you smell things you love?”
Her eyes lit up. “Yeah.”
“So, the first time I ever saw it brewing during my sixth year, I smelled -“
“Treacle Tart!” she guessed.
“Right.” He laughed because it sounded so silly. “And the wood from broomsticks.”
”So that’s why you want me to work in a broom factory!”
He shook his head. “And I smelled this flowery scent that I later realized was you.”
“You later realized.” She sighed and touched his face. “Well, I’m glad we came on this trip so I could find out about your love of brooms.”
“Ginny.” He caught her wrist and then kissed her hand. “I might love brooms, but there are things I love more.”
She touched her forehead to his. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”