[fic] Things You Can't Do in a Library (Harry/Ginny, PG)
TITLE: Things You Can't Do in a Library
RATING: PG
SUMMARY: Harry needs something to take his mind of Horcruxes and the half-blood prince. Ginny, he decides, needs a distraction from studying.
WORD COUNT: approx. 1,800
A/N: Many thanks to my wonderful beta readers, iulia_linnea and deena_s. And many thanks to r_becca for the invite.
Dean Thomas was scowling at him again, so Harry pushed himself out of his chair and told Ron, in a louder voice than was strictly necessary, that he was going to find Ginny.
Ron, who'd been immersed in a magazine and hadn't noticed Dean, said, "I don't think they heard you on the Astronomy Tower."
Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Dean snicker. So much for that. "If I see Lavender, I'll tell her you're here, yeah?"
Color swept up Ron's cheeks, all but swallowing his freckles. "Some friend you are," he muttered, hunching over his magazine. "Lend me your Invisibility Cloak."
"Nah, I think I'll take it with me." Harry withdrew the cloak from his schoolbag, tucked it under his robes, looked back at Ron, and grinned. "You could put my bag over your head."
"Nice."
"Weren't you saying before that it's better now? How you'd rather be killed than kissed?"
"Piss off."
Still grinning, Harry jumped to his feet and hurried toward the common room's exit. He was nearly there when Ron's hex went zinging past his shoulder and struck the stone wall in a small shower of orange sparks.
"Missed," said Harry.
"Meant to," said Ron.
*
Ginny was in the library, studying for her OWLs with at least a dozen other fifth-years. Harry spotted her bright red hair and ducked behind a bookshelf before she - or anyone else, he hoped - could see him. He took the Invisibility Cloak out of his robes and draped it over himself. Then he tiptoed over to Ginny, grasped one of her braids, and tweaked it gently.
"Hi, Harry," Ginny said.
He pushed back his hood and slumped into the chair next to her. "How'd you know?" he asked, feeling slightly deflated.
"I don't know anyone else with an Invisibility Cloak."
"What about Peeves? He could've snuck up behind you quietly."
"He'd've yanked harder."
"Yeah. Probably."
They grinned at each other for a moment. Then Ginny said, "That's so weird, your head just floating there."
Harry flicked his sleeves back and propped his chin up on his fist.
"All right, that's weirder."
They laughed, leaning so that their knees and foreheads were almost touching, and it seemed to Harry that this was so much more important than Voldemort, or Horcruxes, or Malfoy, or the Half-Blood Prince.
"Ahem!"
They jumped away from each other.
"This is a library," Madam Pince reminded them in a frosty tone. "If you cannot contain yourselves…" She let the threat go unspoken, turned, and strode back to her desk, her square heels clicking against the flagstones as they had not during her approach.
They waited until she'd seated herself. Then Harry whispered, "This is a library."
"Blimey," said Ginny, blinking. "That explains all these books!"
Laughter bubbled up again, but instead of letting it out, Harry put his hands on either side of Ginny's face and kissed her mouth. He pulled back quickly because of Pince, but he got a mouthful of Ginny's hot, slightly minty breath, and held it while he looked at her.
She didn't blush like Ron, which Harry found interesting. Color came over Ron like wildfire. With Ginny, it started faintly: a fine brushstroke on either cheek, spreading and deepening slowly, like flowers opening. It was still a little strange, this making Ginny blush. He'd done it unintentionally all through his second year and felt guilty about it; now he rather liked it.
"I have to revise," Ginny said, picking up her quill. "You have stuff to do too."
"I know," said Harry. "I don't want to, though."
She made to tap his knee with her quill, and missed. "You could sneak up on Pansy Parkinson," she suggested. "Let a Snitch go under her robes. She's around here somewhere. I'm surprised we can’t hear her because normally she can't stop talking about poor Draco." The last two words were so drenched in syrup that she stuck out her tongue in distaste.
"I didn't hurt him that bad," grumbled Harry, a chill stalking up his spine as he remembered the spurt of blood. "Anyway, I'm in enough trouble."
"I know. It was just a suggestion."
"Yeah, well. Now I'm thinking about what's under Pansy Parkinson's robes."
"Ew."
"Ew."
Ginny said, "I bet she-"
Suddenly they heard Madam Pince's approach. Harry threw his cowl over his head and slid under the table. He banged his back on the edge of the chair and landed on the floor with a loud grunt of pain. Ginny kicked him gently.
"Weasley," Harry heard Pince say. "Must I remind you again--"
"It's a library, I know," Ginny cut in swiftly.
"Where is Potter? I'm quite sure that I saw his head-"
"I told him to go. He's a terrible, bad influence. I need to revise."
"Yes," said Pince imperiously. "I imagine you do."
When she'd gone, Ginny kicked Harry again.
"Ow."
"What're you doing down there?" she hissed.
"Getting abused," said Harry.
"I'm wearing trousers, you know."
"I didn't know," said Harry, who'd been staring at the black fabric that spilled to Ginny's ankles and wishing that he had the balls to lift it.
"In case you were wondering what was under my robes."
"I'm always wondering about what's under your robes." Harry lurched to his knees and bumped his head on the underside of the table. "Ow," he said again plaintively.
"That's what you get. Pervy Potter."
"I'm a terrible, bad influence," Harry agreed. He wanted to rest his head against her thigh, but the table was too low so he had to be content with his cheek on her knee. Presently, she slipped her hand under the table. First she knocked his glasses askew; then her fingers found their way to his hair and tangled themselves there.
"I don't know how I'm supposed to get any revising done," Ginny said with an exaggerated sigh.
Harry straightened his glasses and closed his eyes. For all Ginny got him pretty excited most of the time, sitting like this was so much more relaxing than being in the common room, enduring Dean's glares and wondering when Hermione was going to come up with another ridiculous theory about the prince. The scratching of Ginny's quill and the occasional flutter of pages were soothing, as were her fingers, gently stroking his hair. He could fall asleep, he thought, and miss his next detention with Snape. How much more trouble could he get into? Surely it was worth a little more peace with Ginny.
She smelled nice, he thought sleepily, like sun-warmed wood and heather. Did heather have a scent? He wasn't sure, and they'd been lying in the heather just the other day. Maybe Ginny smelled the way heather ought to.
His thoughts drifted from the library, where the air was fraught with the tension of the students, to the grounds, which he imagined full of shadows and patches of burnished light as evening approached. He thought about what Ron and Hermione had told him about Apparating, and tried to will himself and Ginny out of the castle, even though he knew it was impossible. He thought about the Ginny-smelling heather, the way her shirt had clung to her skin that day, the way her hair had seemed to crackle as he moved his fingers through it.
"You're awfully quiet," said Ginny after a while.
"Mmm," replied Harry.
"Don't fall asleep. How will I explain drool on my robes?"
"I'll clean 'em."
"Please don't drool on my robes."
"All right. Oi!" She'd twined a lock of his hair around one of her fingers and given it a light tug. "Was that to keep me awake?"
"That was for fun. Shh, I think Pince is making her rounds again."
But it wasn't Pince who approached the table. Harry saw a swish of black fabric and the toes of two highly polished black shoes. He bit his lip to keep from swearing when Pansy Parkinson said loftily, "What are you writing, Weasley? Another love letter to Potter? I heard about your first one. He didn't take it that well, did he?"
"Piss off," Ginny said dismissively.
"'Dear Potter, your eyes are green as pond scum.' Wasn't that how it went? Or was it pickled dragon bogeys? They're both apt."
Though he was wary these days of emulating his father, Harry wished suddenly that he'd nicked a Snitch, so he could let it go under Pansy's robes. He reached into his pocket and wrapped his fingers around his wand.
Ginny had the situation well in hand, however, saying smoothly, "How come you're not with Malfoy? Did Madam Pomfrey send you away because your face was detrimental to his healing?"
"Aren’t you clever?" Pansy said in a brittle voice.
"Aren't you leaving?" inquired Ginny.
"Aren't you forgetting," said Madam Pince in a quelling tone, "that this is a library?"
Harry imagined Ginny and Pansy glowering at each other. Then Pansy's robes swirled, and she was stalking away, her head probably held very high. "I'm going," Ginny said, and Harry heard her gathering her books and notes as Pince left.
She pushed her chair back, but instead of rising, she slid under the table, crashing into Harry.
"Oi!"
"Shh!"
She tried to get off him but she couldn't see him. Harry endured her knees and elbows for a moment, then scrambled out from under her, took her by the wrists, and said, "Stop." He undid the clasp of his cloak and threw it over both of them.
"There you are," Ginny murmured.
"Yeah. Here I am. All bruised."
"I'm sorry."
"It's all right."
And it was. They smiled at each other and it seemed to Harry that, though he could see the table's legs and the bottom shelves of the bookcases through the cloak, he and Ginny had got themselves to another place, a pocket in the world with room for just them.
"What?" Ginny whispered. "What are you thinking? Your face is sort of…odd."
"Thanks. I was just thinking - " because he didn't think he could tell her about the pocket or the heather without sounding lame - "that you could've come up with something better than 'your face was detrimental to his healing.'"
"She caught me by surprise," said Ginny with bravado. "Anyway, I couldn't have done what I really wanted to do. This is, after all, a library."
"Yeah?" said Harry, leaning closer to her. Their noses nudged. It was a bit stuffy under the cloak, but he didn't push it back. "So, libraries. Tell me about them."
"What do you want to know?"
"Well," Harry said, "I reckon from what you've already told me that you can't hex people in libraries. What else can't you do?"
"You can't talk, for one thing," said Ginny warmly. She tilted her head and kissed a corner of his mouth. "So, I can't really tell you what else you can't do in a library." Her dark eyes gleamed with mischief. "I'll have to show you."
10/20/06
RATING: PG
SUMMARY: Harry needs something to take his mind of Horcruxes and the half-blood prince. Ginny, he decides, needs a distraction from studying.
WORD COUNT: approx. 1,800
A/N: Many thanks to my wonderful beta readers, iulia_linnea and deena_s. And many thanks to r_becca for the invite.
Dean Thomas was scowling at him again, so Harry pushed himself out of his chair and told Ron, in a louder voice than was strictly necessary, that he was going to find Ginny.
Ron, who'd been immersed in a magazine and hadn't noticed Dean, said, "I don't think they heard you on the Astronomy Tower."
Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Dean snicker. So much for that. "If I see Lavender, I'll tell her you're here, yeah?"
Color swept up Ron's cheeks, all but swallowing his freckles. "Some friend you are," he muttered, hunching over his magazine. "Lend me your Invisibility Cloak."
"Nah, I think I'll take it with me." Harry withdrew the cloak from his schoolbag, tucked it under his robes, looked back at Ron, and grinned. "You could put my bag over your head."
"Nice."
"Weren't you saying before that it's better now? How you'd rather be killed than kissed?"
"Piss off."
Still grinning, Harry jumped to his feet and hurried toward the common room's exit. He was nearly there when Ron's hex went zinging past his shoulder and struck the stone wall in a small shower of orange sparks.
"Missed," said Harry.
"Meant to," said Ron.
*
Ginny was in the library, studying for her OWLs with at least a dozen other fifth-years. Harry spotted her bright red hair and ducked behind a bookshelf before she - or anyone else, he hoped - could see him. He took the Invisibility Cloak out of his robes and draped it over himself. Then he tiptoed over to Ginny, grasped one of her braids, and tweaked it gently.
"Hi, Harry," Ginny said.
He pushed back his hood and slumped into the chair next to her. "How'd you know?" he asked, feeling slightly deflated.
"I don't know anyone else with an Invisibility Cloak."
"What about Peeves? He could've snuck up behind you quietly."
"He'd've yanked harder."
"Yeah. Probably."
They grinned at each other for a moment. Then Ginny said, "That's so weird, your head just floating there."
Harry flicked his sleeves back and propped his chin up on his fist.
"All right, that's weirder."
They laughed, leaning so that their knees and foreheads were almost touching, and it seemed to Harry that this was so much more important than Voldemort, or Horcruxes, or Malfoy, or the Half-Blood Prince.
"Ahem!"
They jumped away from each other.
"This is a library," Madam Pince reminded them in a frosty tone. "If you cannot contain yourselves…" She let the threat go unspoken, turned, and strode back to her desk, her square heels clicking against the flagstones as they had not during her approach.
They waited until she'd seated herself. Then Harry whispered, "This is a library."
"Blimey," said Ginny, blinking. "That explains all these books!"
Laughter bubbled up again, but instead of letting it out, Harry put his hands on either side of Ginny's face and kissed her mouth. He pulled back quickly because of Pince, but he got a mouthful of Ginny's hot, slightly minty breath, and held it while he looked at her.
She didn't blush like Ron, which Harry found interesting. Color came over Ron like wildfire. With Ginny, it started faintly: a fine brushstroke on either cheek, spreading and deepening slowly, like flowers opening. It was still a little strange, this making Ginny blush. He'd done it unintentionally all through his second year and felt guilty about it; now he rather liked it.
"I have to revise," Ginny said, picking up her quill. "You have stuff to do too."
"I know," said Harry. "I don't want to, though."
She made to tap his knee with her quill, and missed. "You could sneak up on Pansy Parkinson," she suggested. "Let a Snitch go under her robes. She's around here somewhere. I'm surprised we can’t hear her because normally she can't stop talking about poor Draco." The last two words were so drenched in syrup that she stuck out her tongue in distaste.
"I didn't hurt him that bad," grumbled Harry, a chill stalking up his spine as he remembered the spurt of blood. "Anyway, I'm in enough trouble."
"I know. It was just a suggestion."
"Yeah, well. Now I'm thinking about what's under Pansy Parkinson's robes."
"Ew."
"Ew."
Ginny said, "I bet she-"
Suddenly they heard Madam Pince's approach. Harry threw his cowl over his head and slid under the table. He banged his back on the edge of the chair and landed on the floor with a loud grunt of pain. Ginny kicked him gently.
"Weasley," Harry heard Pince say. "Must I remind you again--"
"It's a library, I know," Ginny cut in swiftly.
"Where is Potter? I'm quite sure that I saw his head-"
"I told him to go. He's a terrible, bad influence. I need to revise."
"Yes," said Pince imperiously. "I imagine you do."
When she'd gone, Ginny kicked Harry again.
"Ow."
"What're you doing down there?" she hissed.
"Getting abused," said Harry.
"I'm wearing trousers, you know."
"I didn't know," said Harry, who'd been staring at the black fabric that spilled to Ginny's ankles and wishing that he had the balls to lift it.
"In case you were wondering what was under my robes."
"I'm always wondering about what's under your robes." Harry lurched to his knees and bumped his head on the underside of the table. "Ow," he said again plaintively.
"That's what you get. Pervy Potter."
"I'm a terrible, bad influence," Harry agreed. He wanted to rest his head against her thigh, but the table was too low so he had to be content with his cheek on her knee. Presently, she slipped her hand under the table. First she knocked his glasses askew; then her fingers found their way to his hair and tangled themselves there.
"I don't know how I'm supposed to get any revising done," Ginny said with an exaggerated sigh.
Harry straightened his glasses and closed his eyes. For all Ginny got him pretty excited most of the time, sitting like this was so much more relaxing than being in the common room, enduring Dean's glares and wondering when Hermione was going to come up with another ridiculous theory about the prince. The scratching of Ginny's quill and the occasional flutter of pages were soothing, as were her fingers, gently stroking his hair. He could fall asleep, he thought, and miss his next detention with Snape. How much more trouble could he get into? Surely it was worth a little more peace with Ginny.
She smelled nice, he thought sleepily, like sun-warmed wood and heather. Did heather have a scent? He wasn't sure, and they'd been lying in the heather just the other day. Maybe Ginny smelled the way heather ought to.
His thoughts drifted from the library, where the air was fraught with the tension of the students, to the grounds, which he imagined full of shadows and patches of burnished light as evening approached. He thought about what Ron and Hermione had told him about Apparating, and tried to will himself and Ginny out of the castle, even though he knew it was impossible. He thought about the Ginny-smelling heather, the way her shirt had clung to her skin that day, the way her hair had seemed to crackle as he moved his fingers through it.
"You're awfully quiet," said Ginny after a while.
"Mmm," replied Harry.
"Don't fall asleep. How will I explain drool on my robes?"
"I'll clean 'em."
"Please don't drool on my robes."
"All right. Oi!" She'd twined a lock of his hair around one of her fingers and given it a light tug. "Was that to keep me awake?"
"That was for fun. Shh, I think Pince is making her rounds again."
But it wasn't Pince who approached the table. Harry saw a swish of black fabric and the toes of two highly polished black shoes. He bit his lip to keep from swearing when Pansy Parkinson said loftily, "What are you writing, Weasley? Another love letter to Potter? I heard about your first one. He didn't take it that well, did he?"
"Piss off," Ginny said dismissively.
"'Dear Potter, your eyes are green as pond scum.' Wasn't that how it went? Or was it pickled dragon bogeys? They're both apt."
Though he was wary these days of emulating his father, Harry wished suddenly that he'd nicked a Snitch, so he could let it go under Pansy's robes. He reached into his pocket and wrapped his fingers around his wand.
Ginny had the situation well in hand, however, saying smoothly, "How come you're not with Malfoy? Did Madam Pomfrey send you away because your face was detrimental to his healing?"
"Aren’t you clever?" Pansy said in a brittle voice.
"Aren't you leaving?" inquired Ginny.
"Aren't you forgetting," said Madam Pince in a quelling tone, "that this is a library?"
Harry imagined Ginny and Pansy glowering at each other. Then Pansy's robes swirled, and she was stalking away, her head probably held very high. "I'm going," Ginny said, and Harry heard her gathering her books and notes as Pince left.
She pushed her chair back, but instead of rising, she slid under the table, crashing into Harry.
"Oi!"
"Shh!"
She tried to get off him but she couldn't see him. Harry endured her knees and elbows for a moment, then scrambled out from under her, took her by the wrists, and said, "Stop." He undid the clasp of his cloak and threw it over both of them.
"There you are," Ginny murmured.
"Yeah. Here I am. All bruised."
"I'm sorry."
"It's all right."
And it was. They smiled at each other and it seemed to Harry that, though he could see the table's legs and the bottom shelves of the bookcases through the cloak, he and Ginny had got themselves to another place, a pocket in the world with room for just them.
"What?" Ginny whispered. "What are you thinking? Your face is sort of…odd."
"Thanks. I was just thinking - " because he didn't think he could tell her about the pocket or the heather without sounding lame - "that you could've come up with something better than 'your face was detrimental to his healing.'"
"She caught me by surprise," said Ginny with bravado. "Anyway, I couldn't have done what I really wanted to do. This is, after all, a library."
"Yeah?" said Harry, leaning closer to her. Their noses nudged. It was a bit stuffy under the cloak, but he didn't push it back. "So, libraries. Tell me about them."
"What do you want to know?"
"Well," Harry said, "I reckon from what you've already told me that you can't hex people in libraries. What else can't you do?"
"You can't talk, for one thing," said Ginny warmly. She tilted her head and kissed a corner of his mouth. "So, I can't really tell you what else you can't do in a library." Her dark eyes gleamed with mischief. "I'll have to show you."
10/20/06