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"You're looking awfully chipper today," Ron Weasley remarked as he sidled into Harry's office at close to five o'clock that Friday evening and dropped into a chair on the other side of Harry's desk.
Harry looked up from the field report he'd been writing. His eyes briefly rested on the framed photograph of himself and Ginny taken on the day he'd been sworn in as a fully trained Auror – she was smiling and laughing and peppering his face with kisses with her arms entwined around his neck, while she simultaneously squirmed away from his attempts to tickle her. Her long red hair was pulled back in a ponytail that swung merrily as she moved, and her eyes danced at the camera.
"What's not to be chipper about? It's Friday, it's the weekend, and I'm going home to the most beautiful witch in the entire world who I fully intend to ravish—"
Ron blocked his ears. "Oy! That's still my sister you're talking about there, mate."
Harry grinned, and set down the quill. "Sorry, mate. Can't help it." His face burned with pleasure at the thought of spending the entire weekend in bed with Ginny; their schedules had been crazy busy over the last three months since she'd joined the Harpies and he'd become an Auror. They were rarely home at the same time, like two ships passing in the night. So they'd set aside this weekend to finally be able to catch up – in the Biblical sense. It was the first weekend that she didn't have a match or some other obligation with the Harpies, and he didn't have training, or a field mission. It was a rare occasion, and Harry was looking forward to taking advantage of it to the fullest extent.
He'd made arrangements to have the flat filled with Ginny's favorite yellow roses, and an expensive bottle of champagne would be chilling on ice. What he liked to call "shagging music" would be on the stereo. The Floo would be blocked, and wards would be put up all over the flat so that they would not be disturbed for two straight days. "It's going to be fantastic," he finished. His cock twitched in his trousers at the thought of finally seeing his girlfriend naked for the first time in weeks.
"What time are you meeting her at the stadium?" Ron asked.
Harry checked his watch. "I'm picking her up at six o'clock, as soon as I'm done here. What are you and Hermione up to this weekend?"
"Oh the usual. Hermione will be up to her ears in Ministry cases, and I'll probably catch the replay of the Cannons match on the wireless. Sometime in there I expect we'll talk about wedding plans. Or, Hermione will talk and I'll just nod my head."
Harry chuckled. "It's hard to believe that in six months you'll be a married man."
"You're telling me," Ron put in, with a sigh. "Bloody hell. So, when are you going to take the plunge and finally make it official with Ginny?"
"No pressure, all right? I get enough of that from your mum," Harry put in, although the idea of proposing sent a jolt of electricity through him. He loved Ginny; there was no doubt about that. They'd been serious for two years now, and it was essentially a given that they would marry and have a family together someday. Harry couldn't picture his life without her, and he didn't want to.
"Yeah well you two are too busy to get married, I expect."
"Isn't that the truth?" Harry said dryly. His jaw tightened. "It seems one or the other of us has always got something going on." Last weekend it was the match with the Arrows in which Ginny had played a record-breaking performance, and the week before that was the publicity surrounding Ginny's debut on the cover of Quidditch Weekly's highly touted "Women In Quidditch" issue. Meanwhile he'd been on one field mission after another; he'd almost forgotten what it felt like to sleep in his own bed. He hadn't even had a chance to read through the Quidditch magazine yet, and the new issue was already on the stands. He hadn't been to see Ginny play since the beginning of the season.
"Is something wrong, mate?"
Harry jerked his head up. "What? No, nothing. Just a bit distracted that's all."
"I was saying that it's really fantastic how Ginny's adapting to professional Quidditch. She's going to be Player of the Year, for sure. They might as well just give it to her right now." Ron was beaming, and as much as he wanted to, Harry couldn't bring himself to share in his friend's enthusiasm.
"Yeah, she's fantastic," echoed Harry quietly, tapping the tip of the quill on his desk. She was so fantastic that he never got to see her any more.
Harry finished early so at five forty-five he closed up the office and Apparated to the stadium where he took up his usual post just outside the exit to the team's changing room. As always, fans were milling around with their autograph books and cameras; a few even had small gifts. It didn't escape Harry's notice that one young man was holding a single yellow rose tied with a green ribbon.
He shoved his hands deep in his pockets and leaned against the wall, staying out of sight. He was proud of her, and her success; of course he was. She'd stood with him all through his rigorous and sometimes demoralizing Auror training, and now he would stand by her while she pursued her dream. "Chin up, Potter," he muttered, and even managed a small smile. This weekend, she would be all his.
The fans began to stir, and Harry pushed away from the wall. The team would be emerging any moment. As always, he'd give Ginny a few minutes to shake hands and sign autographs, but then he would whisk her away behind closed doors. He watched as the team started to filter out of the doorway, his eyes craned for the flash of red hair that always sent his heart into spasms of excitement. The young man with the yellow rose stepped forward, blocking his view of the entrance. Harry frowned, turning his head left and right in an attempt to see around him.
"Bloody hell," he muttered.
But finally Ginny emerged with her long hair pulled back in a thick, bouncy ponytail. She looked luminous, smiling from ear to ear as she signed autographs and shook hands. She was wearing her Harpies sweater and jeans that fit her small, lithe frame almost too well. She glanced over and saw Harry, smiled and waved and gave him the sign that she'd be right there.
He smiled and waved back, and then watched with a frown as she accepted the yellow rose from the young man who then leaned in to kiss her cheek. The monster in Harry's chest stirred, and his hands clenched into fists. It took all the willpower he had not to charge over there. If that wasn't bad enough, Ginny smiled and put her hand on the boy's arm. She said a few words to him and then turned and made her way over to Harry while the rest of the fans converged on her teammates.
"Hi!" she said, gifting him with a glorious smile as she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. She smelled of grass, and soap, wood, and flowers. Harry's arms tightened around her waist and he pulled her close. She felt so good with her body pressed against him. Then the stem of the rose scratched the back of his neck.
Harry pulled back. "So, a yellow rose?" he remarked.
"I guess my secret's out," Ginny said, and she lightly traced the soft petals along Harry's cheek. He moved her hand away somewhat impatiently, and she noticed. "What?"
"Nothing."
Ginny frowned, and took a step back. "Tell me. What is it, did you have a bad day or something?"
"No, I had a perfectly fine day."
"Then what are you on about?"
Harry's eyes darted toward the rose in her right hand. "Not sure I like other blokes giving you flowers, is all." His cheeks burned as he said it and he braced for her angry response. She hated it when he acted jealous but he couldn't help it this time. He thought of the vases of yellow roses populating their flat right at that very moment, and somehow they paled in comparison to the single flower she had in her hand.
"Oh come on." Ginny smiled, although there was something else behind her eyes. "The fans like to give us gifts, that's all. It doesn't mean anything."
"Yeah but flowers are a bit personal don't you think?"
"Stop it, Harry. It's nothing." She curled her hand against his cheek, and he turned his head to kiss her palm.
"You're right, love. I'm sorry." He took her hand away from his face and kissed her fingers. "Let's go home. I can't wait to get you into bed, where you belong."
She bit her lip, and his heart sank. "Well, something came up with the team. It seems that I'm in the running for Player of the Year and the girls want to take me out to celebrate tonight. The nominations were announced this morning." She looked up at him through her thick golden red lashes, her cheeks flushed.
Harry knew he had to say something, he just didn't know what. He warred with both his his pride over her accomplishment and the disappointment over losing her to the team once again. "That's fantastic, I'm happy for you," he said finally, and then his lips closed over hers and his tongue slid into her mouth, deepening the kiss. He grabbed her up off her feet and even though he could feel that she needed to breathe, he wouldn't let her go.
"Harry!" she finally broke away, half-stunned and half-annoyed. Her face was red.
"What, I'm just congratulating you, that's all."
"Come off it. Why are you acting like such a bloody possessive prat?"
"We've been planning this weekend for a month, Ginny. Couldn't the team take you out another time?"
"It's not officially the weekend until midnight, and I promise that I'll be home before then. Unless you want to come with us?" she added. She glanced over her shoulder at her teammates, who waved and beckoned for her. She signaled that she'd be right there, and then turned around to face Harry. "Come on, have a drink with us. You know how I get when I'm good and pissed, it will only mean good things for you later..." she wiggled her eyebrows.
Although his cock twitched at the thought of having wild, drunken sex with his very limber girlfriend, still Harry couldn't bring himself to smile. "That's all right, love. You go on, spend time with the girls. I'll see you later tonight."
She looked disappointed. "You're sure? It'll be a lot of fun, and the girls love to see you. In fact I think Maureen would like to do a bit more than just see you..." she winked.
"I'm sure." Harry kissed her forehead. "Have a good time."
Before she could say anything else, he'd Apparated back to their flat. Without bothering to switch on the lights, he moved quietly through the shadowy rooms past the overflowing vases of fresh yellow roses and the bucket of expensive champagne and went to his dresser drawer. Removing the Concealment Charm he'd put on the contents, he withdrew a small black box he'd kept hidden under his socks and boxer shorts for the last three months. He went to the bed, kicked off his shoes, and sat down with the box cradled in his hands.
Harry flipped open the lid of the box. Resting in a bed of black velvet was the ring he'd devoted a good three months to finding; it was platinum with a small diamond and two rubies nestled against it on either side. It wasn't a traditional engagement ring, but there was nothing traditional about Ginny or the way he felt.
He wanted to marry her. He would marry her. Once she had this ring on her finger none of the other nonsense would matter, because she would be his, and everyone would know it. It wasn't the way he'd planned to propose – he was going to take her to Hogwarts to their spot under the tree by the lake where he would make love to her under the stars and then ask her to be his wife. He'd been waiting for the perfect moment, but lately he didn't know if there ever would be one.
Harry sighed. He shut the lid on the box and put it in his pocket.
It was eleven-thirty when he heard the telltale 'pop' announcing Ginny's return. He was lying on his back in bed, shirtless in his trousers with his hands folded behind his head. He felt the box in his pocket like it was made of metal rather than velvet. He'd been staring at the ceiling for hours, unable to think about anything but that ring.
He waited while she made her way into the bedroom. He sat up slowly at the time he expected to find her in the doorway, but instead she was already at the foot of the bed. She was completely naked except for the golden snitch pendant he'd given her for her last birthday nestled at her throat. Her hair spilled around her shoulders, almost to the rise of her breasts.
"Have a good time?" he said, his voice gravelly.
She didn't answer. Instead she climbed onto the bed and made her way over to him on all fours. Before he could say another word, she was kissing him slowly. Her breath tasted only vaguely like alcohol. When he moved, she pinned him down with remarkable strength and ground her hips purposefully into his crotch. The next thing he knew, she'd banished his trousers completely and was straddling him with her hair hanging in gorgeous red waves around her face.
"What's going on?" he asked.
"Ssh. No talking." Ginny raised herself onto her knees and then she sank onto his cock with a delicious moan. She took his hands and put them flush on her breasts, where he immediately began to fondle her nipples because he knew that was what she liked. She smiled down at him, her hips undulating while her cunt slid up and down his shaft.
"Fuck, Ginny..."
She bent over him and began to slowly kiss his chest while his hands came down around her hips and curled over the slope of her arse. Her lips made a path up his neck and around his right cheekbone, before she finally kissed his mouth. She took his head in her hands and held it firmly, directing his eyes to hers.
She smiled mysteriously, grinding her hips into his. Fire took root in Harry's groin, and he felt the first wave of climax sneaking up on him. "Thank you for the roses, they're beautiful," she said in a whisper, her lips flirting with his.
"Ginny—" he couldn't finish the thought because then he came in a rush of blinding heat, and the intoxicating sound of Ginny's moans filled his ears. Then he sank into the mattress, exhausted and watched in a daze while Ginny put her hand between her legs and rolled her finger lazily over the engorged bead of her clit. She smelled irresistible – sex and sweat emanated off her like the sweetest perfume. When she came her face took on a look of pure bliss; then she draped her body over his with her heart beating madly against his chest.
She was so full of life; warm, beautiful and perfect. This was the moment.
"Marry me," he said.
Ginny looked up with a beautiful smile on her face. She toyed with his fringe and kissed his forehead. She sighed lightly, and her eyes misted over. "No," she said.
All the breath left Harry's body. He sat up and gently pushed her away. "Hang on, what? No?"
"No." Ginny folded her arms over her chest. She didn't look upset, disappointed, or even sad; in fact, Harry couldn't read her expression at all.
"Why the bloody hell not?" he said sharply, forcing back the sting of tears in his eyes.
"Because you're jealous. I'm not going to agree to marry you simply to soothe your ego."
Stung, Harry climbed off the bed and pulled on his trousers. Predictably the box fell out of his pocket and he hurried to hide it before Ginny could see it. "You think I'm proposing on a whim?" he said, his face hot.
Ginny sat on the bed, looking maddeningly sexy with her hair tousled and her shoulders rigid. Her breasts were pert, her nipples still hard. "I believe you want to marry me, I just don't believe you want to right this minute," she said. While he stood there dumbfounded, she got off the bed. "I don't want you to propose out of desperation or as a last resort, or because you need to protect me. I want you to really mean it."
"I do mean it! Do you think I would have spent three months looking for the perfect ring if I didn't bloody mean it?" he spat. "I love you, Gin! It's just that lately it seems you love Quidditch more. You've got blokes giving you roses, people around you all the bloody time wanting things from you, you're on the cover of magazines and doing interviews, or spending time with the team, and between that and my ruddy job I never see you any more!" He hadn't meant to say all that, but the floodgates had opened and he couldn't stop himself. It was weeks' worth of frustration coming out in one huge rush.
Ginny looked as though she wanted to laugh even as her eyes welled with tears. She bent her head for a moment and fiercely wiped her hands across her eyes. It pained Harry to see her cry. He flinched as he suppressed the urge to touch her; yet he remained still, with every nerve ending on edge.
Finally after what seemed like an eternity, Ginny looked up. "Does it even matter that I'm doing what I love, or are you so damn insecure that you'd put a ring on my finger as if it's some kind of brand to mark your territory? Don't you trust me?" She demanded.
"Of course I trust you! That's not it at all."
"Well you've got a funny way of showing trust, then. What in the name of Merlin makes you think I'd run off with the first bloke who hands me a yellow rose with a green ribbon on it?"
"I don't believe that! I—" Harry remembered the flame that had ignited in his chest at the sight of the single yellow rose, and he stopped himself.
"If I'm not mistaken, at one point it was you who had people around all the time, wanting things from you, taking your picture, giving you awards and commendations, and all that. All those birds were flirting with you in front of me and acting as if I didn't exist. Do you think I liked that? But I'm the one you come home to at night; I'm the one you love, and that made it all worth it. I did it for you, Harry, because I love you. Why can't you do the same for me?"
Harry went to her. "I do love you, Ginny. I'm sorry," he said, pleading. "I wasn't thinking, I just…"
Ginny held up her hands and stopped him in his tracks. "No, you weren't thinking," she said thickly. "You might not like getting a lot of attention, and I can appreciate that. But not all attention is bad, Harry. I've spent my whole life in the shadow of six brothers, being told what to do and I'd say I deserve a little time in the spotlight. I would have thought you of all people would understand that." She turned on her heel and stalked into the loo, slamming the door behind her so hard that it rattled a picture on the wall.
Harry sank onto the bed and dropped his head in his hands. The shower went on and he heard Ginny making a business out of slamming things around. Feeling like a caged animal, he decided he needed to get out. So he dressed and went to do what he always did to clear his head – flying. He left a note for Ginny, returned the ring to his top drawer, summoned his broom, and then kicked off into the night.
* * *
When he returned after one o'clock in the morning, Harry slipped quietly into the bedroom window and stowed the broom. His head was pounding and he felt completely knackered, as though he'd been run over by the Knight Bus. The flight had cleared his head well enough, only to throw into sharp relief what a fool he'd been acting the last few weeks.
With his back to the bed he shed his clothes except for his boxers. Then he noticed that the top drawer of his dresser was opened halfway, and his things were moved around. He barely had time to process what that meant when he heard a sharp catching of breath followed by a muffled sniff. His heart leapt into his throat.
"Ginny?" he whispered, and then he turned around. She was sitting on the bed cradling something in her hands, like an egg. Harry assumed it was the jewelry box. She was wearing one of his faded Cannons T-shirts that dwarfed her frame; her hair was rumpled, uncombed and still a little damp from the shower, and her eyes were swollen. Yet she still took his breath away.
"I didn't know you'd bought the ring. I acted as though it didn't bother me, but it was a shock finding out that you actually had it. We've talked about marriage before and you never let on, you always said we would know when we were ready…but you've been ready all this time, and you were waiting for me."
Harry swallowed, his body rigid with the desire to hold her. But she didn't look up, so he waited.
"I've been staring at it ever since you left," Ginny went on, stroking the little box in her hand. "It's beautiful."
"I wanted to find something special for you." His voice was quiet, and unsteady. "I was going to take you to Hogwarts, by the lake where we spent that first afternoon and then I was going to propose."
She looked up, her eyes soft and rimmed with tears. "It wasn't really a whim, was it?" she whispered, sounding like a little girl.
Harry shook his head. "No, it was just ruddy bad timing. Ginny, I'm so sorry. I've been a selfish git. I never once stopped to consider your side, and how important Quidditch is for you and I should have—"
Ginny put up her hand and he stopped speaking as if she'd put a silencing spell on him. She crossed the room, and draped her arms around his neck with the box still in her hand. It was the sweetest relief to feel her touching him, and Harry melted into her, bending his head to inhale the perfume of her strawberry-scented hair while he stroked her back. His hands moved down her spine and over the curve of her bottom, lifting her up.
"I'm proud of you, love. I don't tell you enough, but I am. You're brilliant, and there are times that I feel I don't deserve you." He kissed her hair.
When Ginny looked at him, she seemed almost angry. "Harry Potter, how could you possibly believe that, after all we've been through together?"
"Ginny, you are my entire world. I would do anything for you."
"I know. I feel the same way." She smiled lightly, brushing her fingers along his cheek. She kissed him, her lips light as a feather. Then to his surprise she took her arms away and knelt down in front of him. The blood drained from his face as he watched her turn her eyes up, and tuck a lock of hair behind her ear.
She cleared her throat, and swallowed. "Will you marry me, Harry?"
"Oh Merlin…"
Her mouth twitched. "Is that a yes?"
"Ginny Weasley, how could you possibly believe I'd say anything else?" Harry sank to his knees, took her face in his hands and kissed her. He took the ring and placed it on her trembling finger and then he sealed it with another kiss.
"I love you," she whispered.
"I know," he answered, and then he eased her back onto the floor and made love to her.