The Off Season

The next day was Monday, and Ginny stumbled into the bookstore with an aching head and an unsettled stomach. She unlocked the door and stepped through it, wincing as it slammed shut, then sat down behind the till and rested her head in her hands.

She stayed in that position for as long as she could, until her elbows began to ache from being propped against the hard counter. Her stomach felt a little better that way, though. Now if she could just sit in this position for the rest of the day, she'd be fine.

The bell on the door jangled and she looked up, suppressing a moan.

Katie entered the shop with a spring in her step and a smirk on her face.

"How're you feeling today?" she asked, looking as though she already knew the answer to the question.

In response, Ginny leaned down and rested her forehead on the surface of the counter in front of her.

Katie laughed.

"I hate you," Ginny said, the counter muffling her voice.

"You played a great game yesterday," Katie said, blithely ignoring her comment.

"Meh." The thought of Quidditch, and all the swooping and darting and turning involved, made Ginny feel sick.

"No, really, it was great. I don't know what we did without you."

"We still lost."

"Yeah, but they had a great Seeker."

Ginny grunted.

"How long have you been together, anyway?"

"Together?"

"You and Harry."

"Me and... Harry?"

"How long have you been going out with Harry?" Katie asked, sounding as though she were talking to a very small child.

Ginny lifted her head up, trying to ignore the pain and nausea this caused. "I'm not."

Katie looked skeptical.

"Really," Ginny insisted. "I'm not seeing Harry. We're just..." She trailed off, remembering the kiss they'd shared the night before. "Friends," she finished weakly.

"That's not what it looked like to me," Katie said suggestively.

The bell attached to the door jangled as a customer entered the shop. Katie winked and mouthed the word "later" before ducking out the door.

The grandmotherly-looking witch browsed the shelves for a few minutes, while Ginny tried to look as though she was not hung over. Inside, however, her stomach was churning from the effects of the night before and her head was spinning from Katie's words.

Dating Harry? She tried to scoff at the very idea, but his kiss kept taking over her mind. The rest of the night at the bar was mostly obscured by an odd alcoholic haze, but the kiss stood out in her mind in crystal clear detail. She remembered the way the smell of him had overwhelmed her mind, and the way she had clung to him for support, as though all the bones in her body had dissolved into nothingness. Then she had gotten angry with him for some reason and pushed him away, but she couldn't remember exactly why.

Ginny raised one hand to her mouth, nibbling on her fingernail absent-mindedly. Had she and Harry really shared an incredibly, mind-numbingly wonderful kiss? That was certainly what she remembered, although she wasn't sure whether or not she should trust her drunken memory.

Now Katie thought they were dating. Ginny knew that idea was obviously wrong. She would know if she were dating someone, after all. But the very suggestion made her think differently about the time they'd spent together recently. He had taken her flying and brought along a picnic, after all. At the time, she'd assumed that one of her brothers had put him up to it. A cozy picnic for two did sound like an awfully romantic gesture, though. And then he had invited her to play Quidditch with his friends. That could mean anything. She remembered the way he had scooped her up in his arms when she was hurt, and the way he'd touched the small of her back as they entered The Leaky Cauldron, guiding her inside. Neither of those things seemed like something her brothers would put him up to.

Was she really so clueless that she hadn't noticed when he asked her out? The memory of being carried in his arms was coupled in her mind with the certain impression that she had enjoyed it, had snuggled up to him, had perhaps even grasped his hand and held tightly to it while her leg spasmed with pain. Then there was the fact that she had spent the entire night at the bar by his side, with the exception of the few minutes when Felina had chased him off. Or at least, all the parts of the night that she actually remembered.

She thought of the owl she'd sent him, and her silly attempt to trick him into being surprised to see her. In retrospect, it seemed like a very flirty thing to do. It was almost as though she was trying to play some boy-girl game with him, the kind of thing her friends had done with boys in their third and fourth years at school. Those games had seemed ridiculous even then, and she was so much older now -- shouldn't she be past all that?

Ginny sighed. Whatever it was she should be doing, the fact remained that she was obviously not past that. Katie's comment had opened her eyes like Lumos lit up a dark room, and she felt giddy and nervous. She wanted him to owl her and she was afraid of it at the same time. Maybe she needed to stop by the apothecary's on the way home from work and buy a new hair potion or a different lip gloss. Madam Malkin's might have something that would catch Harry's eye.

She rolled her eyes at herself. This was getting ridiculous. She would just owl him tonight, when she got home from work. Unless he owled first. Hopefully he would.

-----

Ginny heated up some leftover curry and stood in the kitchen, her hip propped against the counter, eating it directly out of the delivery container.

She looked at her owl, asleep on his perch. Next to him was a pad of paper and a jar of ballpoint pens that had been a housewarming gift from her father. The pad was blank, and just out of her reach. She could walk over to it and write something, but what would she say? She could call him on the Floo, instead, but she'd still have to think of something to say.

"Hi Harry," she said out loud, as though practicing. "I'm sorry I knocked you on your arse the other night."

"It's just occurred to me," she tried again. "That you might have kissed me because you actually wanted to."

"Dear Bloke, please explain your actions as I have no idea what the bloody hell you're thinking."

"Memo to Harry Potter, from Ginny Weasley," she announced loudly to the empty kitchen, gesturing widely with her chopsticks. "Are you interested in dating me? Check yes or no."

She threw her curry into the bin in frustration. "This is absolutely ridiculous," she told the vacant flat. "I have to get out of here."

She picked up her purse from where the arm of the sofa where she'd dropped it when she came in. She swung open the door and nearly walked into Harry, who was standing on the other side of the door with his hand raised to knock.

"Harry!" she said, shocked. She wondered how much he had heard of her conversation with no one.

"Hey," he said. "I was going for coffee, and wondered if you'd like to come along. But if you're on your way out..."

"No no, coffee would be good," she replied quickly, feeling as though they were the stupidest words ever spoken. Why couldn't she think of something better to say, something wittier or more intelligent or sexier?

They walked through the hall and down the stairs side by side, Ginny fingering the hem of her t-shirt nervously. She wondered what kind of coffee they were going to have. Would it be expensive, romantic, Italian coffee that was too strong to taste good and served in tiny cups, or possibly something cheap served in styrofoam?

He took her to Starbucks. She didn't know what that meant. On the way there, he looked at her a couple of times. She tried to figure out what that meant, and why she blushed when he did it.

"All right, Gin?" he asked once they were seated at a small table in the corner.

"Yeah, of course," she responded. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You're pretty quiet. You're not... not mad?"

"No. Why would I be?" As soon as she said it, she realized why.

"Erm--" Harry looked as though he didn't really want to explain, and part of her was tempted to sit back and laugh while he tried to.

"No, not mad," she hurried to say, blushing, as her better half won out.

"Oh, good." He looked relieved, and she wondered if that meant that he wanted to kiss her again.

"I'm sorry I..." She trailed off, looking for the right way to word what she was trying to say. "I'm sorry I pushed you," she said finally.

"Oh," he said, laughing weakly. "Right, I forgot." A look of relief crossed his face, belying his words, but he still looked tense.

"But," she said slowly. "I'm not sorry about... about the rest." Hopefully, he knew what she meant. Specifically, she was not sorry that she kissed him.

After that, he seemed to relax. She could see the set of his shoulders soften as he let out a deep breath.

"What did Felina say to you?" he asked.

"Felina?" In all her confusion and crisis over Harry and the kiss and Katie's suggestion that they were dating, she had nearly allowed herself to forget about the game the day before. "Erm," she started, blushing a little at being forced to repeat the scout's startling praise. "She said I should go for it."

"I told you so!" Harry said triumphantly, slapping his hand down on the table and causing several other coffee-drinking patrons to look over at them.

He lowered his voice. "I told you so," he said again. "You really ought to try out. And you heard Dan, we have a spot coming open on our team for next season."

"I don't know, Harry. I'm going to need an awful lot of practice before I can try out."

"I'll help you practice," he said quickly.

"You will?"

"Yeah. It'd be fun."

"It would be brilliant, playing Quidditch for a living," she admitted.

"Trust me, it is."

"I still don't know, though."

"Come on, where's your Gryffindor courage?"

She glared at him.

"What? You should do it. Come on, why not?"

Ginny sat silently for a moment, tracing the rim of her paper cup with one finger. When she looked up, she found him watching her with a hungry look in his eyes.

She swallowed.

"You know what? I think I will," she said. "I'm going for it."

And for you, she added silently.