FIC: Adventures in Home Furnishing
Title: Adventures in Home Furnishing
Author: r_becca, aka BeccaFran
Pairing/Characters: Harry/Ginny
Rating: G
Word count: ~850 words
Summary: Harry's living situation has become a bit dire, and extreme measures are called for.
Notes: My husband asked me to write a fic (!) in which Harry and Ginny shop for furniture and nothing happens. This is that story.
Feeling a bit strange about it, Harry sat down on the sofa. He felt awkward, weird, out of place. Everything about this situation was uncomfortable. Except the sofa itself, which was surprisingly soft and inviting.
"This one's quite nice, actually," he said to Ginny, who was seated in a giant armchair next to him.
"Don't you think it's hideous, though?" she asked, examining the wooden lever on the side of her armrest with interest. "What does this--" she pulled the lever and the chair sprang into a reclined position, throwing up a footrest in front of her.
Ginny let out a little shriek of surprise and jumped in fright at the sudden change. Harry started snickering at her shock, and found himself unable to stop. In a few moments, he had to hold on to the back of the sofa just to keep himself from sliding off.
"What?" Ginny said indignantly. She was sitting bolt-upright in the reclined chair, with her legs crossed underneath her and her arms crossed in front of her, casting suspicious looks at the offending item of furniture. "It's not as if I've ever operated one of these things before, you know."
Just as he was beginning to get over his hysterics, Harry slipped under again. "Operated!" he managed to gasp out when he had regained the ability to breathe. "Operated?"
"This is clearly one of those Muggle machines that Dad's always on about," she said primly, speaking in a manner that was quite unlike the cool, confident Ginny Weasley that he knew so well. "I can't be expected to--"
"Here," Harry said, still grinning but now able to stand and walk around without laughing himself to the point of injury. "Sit in it like this-- stretch out your legs on this bit here, and lean back on this cushion." With his hands, he manipulated her arms, legs and torso to fit the position he'd so often seen Uncle Vernon occupy in the Dursleys' living room, flat on his back in front of the telly. At first, Ginny's body remained stiff and tense, but slowly she seemed to relax.
He returned to the sofa she'd said was hideous and stretched out as if he were about to take a nap. Now that he had his own house, he could sit in any chair he wanted, Harry thought. And if he wanted to sleep on the sofa, why, he could do that too. He wouldn't have to sit on the floor and watch the news through the window any longer.
"This isn't so bad," Ginny said eventually, as if it were a great revelation. "Those Muggles make pretty good stuff, I s'pose."
Harry smiled and closed his eyes, picturing the sofa and chairs in his vacant living room at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. An unassuming settee in the corner of his new parlor had kicked him soundly in the shin, then skittered away to hide in the library. Furniture had become top priority after that, and he'd had every stick of curse-infested furniture turned out of the house: the kelpie-hide settee and the troll's leg umbrella-stand, the giant's bone lamp and the house-elf heads on the walls. All that was left were empty rooms and bare walls. Empty rooms that were his to do with as he pleased, now.
He couldn't think of anything better to fill the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black than mechanized, synthetic Muggle furniture. And a telly. Harry's smile grew even wider. Yes, definitely a telly where he could watch Footballer's Wives and all sorts of educational Muggle programming. Sirius would have loved it.
"Can I help you, young Sir?" The voice of a salesman interrupted Harry's thoughts. When he opened his eyes, he found a man in a suit looking down at him, with a rather doubtful expression on his face.
Harry sat up and looked around the store, full of a seemingly endless field of chairs, couches and coffee tables, all in mock-home formations. He looked at the skeptical salesman, at the admittedly rather garish paisley print on the sofa where he was sitting, at Ginny clambering gracelessly over the arm of her recliner in order to escape its padded clutches.
"Yes," Harry said decisively. "I'd like to get two of those, and one of these. And the table too."
The salesman's eyes grew round, and he nodded obsequiously. "Certainly, sir. Is there anything else--"
"Oh, I'm going to need a whole house full of furniture," Harry said firmly.
"A whole..." Harry could practically see the salesman calculating his commission, pound signs dancing around in his eyes like a cartoon character.
"A whole house full," he said firmly. "What do you think next, Ginny, beds?"
"Beds sound wonderful, Harry," she agreed, linking her arm in his.
They set off across the store, trailed by the eager salesman.
"The beds aren't mechanized, are they?" Ginny asked in a whisper. "Only, I don't know if I could sleep in something like that." This time, Harry did not even try to control his laughter.
Author: r_becca, aka BeccaFran
Pairing/Characters: Harry/Ginny
Rating: G
Word count: ~850 words
Summary: Harry's living situation has become a bit dire, and extreme measures are called for.
Notes: My husband asked me to write a fic (!) in which Harry and Ginny shop for furniture and nothing happens. This is that story.
Feeling a bit strange about it, Harry sat down on the sofa. He felt awkward, weird, out of place. Everything about this situation was uncomfortable. Except the sofa itself, which was surprisingly soft and inviting.
"This one's quite nice, actually," he said to Ginny, who was seated in a giant armchair next to him.
"Don't you think it's hideous, though?" she asked, examining the wooden lever on the side of her armrest with interest. "What does this--" she pulled the lever and the chair sprang into a reclined position, throwing up a footrest in front of her.
Ginny let out a little shriek of surprise and jumped in fright at the sudden change. Harry started snickering at her shock, and found himself unable to stop. In a few moments, he had to hold on to the back of the sofa just to keep himself from sliding off.
"What?" Ginny said indignantly. She was sitting bolt-upright in the reclined chair, with her legs crossed underneath her and her arms crossed in front of her, casting suspicious looks at the offending item of furniture. "It's not as if I've ever operated one of these things before, you know."
Just as he was beginning to get over his hysterics, Harry slipped under again. "Operated!" he managed to gasp out when he had regained the ability to breathe. "Operated?"
"This is clearly one of those Muggle machines that Dad's always on about," she said primly, speaking in a manner that was quite unlike the cool, confident Ginny Weasley that he knew so well. "I can't be expected to--"
"Here," Harry said, still grinning but now able to stand and walk around without laughing himself to the point of injury. "Sit in it like this-- stretch out your legs on this bit here, and lean back on this cushion." With his hands, he manipulated her arms, legs and torso to fit the position he'd so often seen Uncle Vernon occupy in the Dursleys' living room, flat on his back in front of the telly. At first, Ginny's body remained stiff and tense, but slowly she seemed to relax.
He returned to the sofa she'd said was hideous and stretched out as if he were about to take a nap. Now that he had his own house, he could sit in any chair he wanted, Harry thought. And if he wanted to sleep on the sofa, why, he could do that too. He wouldn't have to sit on the floor and watch the news through the window any longer.
"This isn't so bad," Ginny said eventually, as if it were a great revelation. "Those Muggles make pretty good stuff, I s'pose."
Harry smiled and closed his eyes, picturing the sofa and chairs in his vacant living room at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. An unassuming settee in the corner of his new parlor had kicked him soundly in the shin, then skittered away to hide in the library. Furniture had become top priority after that, and he'd had every stick of curse-infested furniture turned out of the house: the kelpie-hide settee and the troll's leg umbrella-stand, the giant's bone lamp and the house-elf heads on the walls. All that was left were empty rooms and bare walls. Empty rooms that were his to do with as he pleased, now.
He couldn't think of anything better to fill the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black than mechanized, synthetic Muggle furniture. And a telly. Harry's smile grew even wider. Yes, definitely a telly where he could watch Footballer's Wives and all sorts of educational Muggle programming. Sirius would have loved it.
"Can I help you, young Sir?" The voice of a salesman interrupted Harry's thoughts. When he opened his eyes, he found a man in a suit looking down at him, with a rather doubtful expression on his face.
Harry sat up and looked around the store, full of a seemingly endless field of chairs, couches and coffee tables, all in mock-home formations. He looked at the skeptical salesman, at the admittedly rather garish paisley print on the sofa where he was sitting, at Ginny clambering gracelessly over the arm of her recliner in order to escape its padded clutches.
"Yes," Harry said decisively. "I'd like to get two of those, and one of these. And the table too."
The salesman's eyes grew round, and he nodded obsequiously. "Certainly, sir. Is there anything else--"
"Oh, I'm going to need a whole house full of furniture," Harry said firmly.
"A whole..." Harry could practically see the salesman calculating his commission, pound signs dancing around in his eyes like a cartoon character.
"A whole house full," he said firmly. "What do you think next, Ginny, beds?"
"Beds sound wonderful, Harry," she agreed, linking her arm in his.
They set off across the store, trailed by the eager salesman.
"The beds aren't mechanized, are they?" Ginny asked in a whisper. "Only, I don't know if I could sleep in something like that." This time, Harry did not even try to control his laughter.