More Than Words

More Than Words

Kay Kay

Sayin' I love you/Is not the words I want to hear from you/It's not that I don't want you to say/But if you only knew how easy/It would be to show me how you feel/More than words/Is all you have to do to make it real/Then you wouldn't have to say/That you love me/'Cause I'd already know

*

At age 25, Ginny Potter felt she was living what should be the perfect life.

She had been happily married to Harry Potter for three years. He was a successful auror and she was making her way up in the Department of Magical Creatures. They had plenty of money and a little house in Ottery St Catchpole near the Burrow and Ron and Hermione. Harry treated Ginny like a princess and their love life was...well, you know what they say about boys who play Quidditch.

Recently, however, things had taken a turn for the suspicious. Harry had never been a big one on telling people he loved them, probably as a product of his life with the Dursleys. However, no matter how >preciously awkward it was, he usually managed to show her he cared. The past weeks had been a busy time for Harry, getting a new partner and interrogating a large faction of re-banded Death Eaters. Or at least that's what he told her when he came home and snapped at her for dinner, and didn't talk to her anymore, and brushed away any hint of a romantic advance. Plus, he'd been working so many hours he was barely even home to ignore her.

The other thing that bothered Ginny about his recent behaviour was that everything he did talk to her about seemed to be related to his new partner, Lyla. Apparently she was tall, blond, gorgeous, and a brilliant auror, as Harry had told Ginny continuously. Harry rarely showed that kind of enthusiasm for anything except for Quidditch and her, so Ginny was growing distrustful.

Harry was cheating on her, she was sure of it. A boy who had blushed all through their first date, apologized all through the first time they had sex, and cried all through their wedding, was having an affair. And Ginny was not going to let him get away with it.

*

Ron and Harry were sitting on the couch watching Quidditch on the WBS (Wizarding Broadcasting System) when Ginny walked in with groceries one Sunday. Harry had been asleep when she'd left. Harry didn't so much as blink a greeting to her.

"Hey Gin!" said Ron. "How about some more drinks!"

"Shove it," said Ginny stoutly, stomping to the bedroom.

"What's up her arse?" Ron asked Harry.

"No idea," said Harry, frowning at his best friend. "She's been stalking around the house for nearly three weeks. I figure it's best to just let her sort it out. Maybe it's just that time of the month. I'm bloody sick of it though. I've even picked up more hours at work."

"You're well out of it mate. It's not that time of the month for three whole weeks." He gave Harry a prod with his elbow, laughing slightly at Harry's perplexed face. "You've got to get it sorted out, they hate it when you don't ask what's wrong."

Harry snorted. "And you're an expert the way you and Hermione are constantly bickering?"

"Compared to you, Harry, I know practically everything about girls."

"Oh, shut it. Anyway, I've asked Lyla if she'd help me think of something."

"Good start."

*

Ginny was not very good at reconnaissance. Bright red hair had a tendency to stick out a bit in a crowd. She patted her hair self-consciously, but was pleased with the rest of her outfit in all black. Tonight was the night and she was ready. Harry was "working late" again, and it was time for her to show that his innocent act was no longer convincing her.

*

"So, where's a good place for us to go and talk?" Harry asked Lyla.

"How about the Three Broomsticks. You can have a firewhiskey on me, mate." Lyla laughed at her beleaguered partner's half smile. Poor guy. You could just tell he was one of those clueless types.

*

"The problem is," Harry told Lyla at the Three Broomsticks, "I'm not that great at feelings." Four tumblers of firewhiskey had loosened Harry up and the conversation was finally getting round to Ginny.

"Well you have to let a girl know how you feel or else she feels neglected," Lyla offered.

"Right," Harry slurred, "but when I say it I come out sounding like a complete sod. It sounds made up."

"Then don't tell her."

"Right," answered Harry, scowling up at her. "And have the woman of my dreams divorce me because I'm an awful husband who works all the time and can't say anything romantic."

"I didn't say don't show her."

"Show her?" said Harry to himself. Lyla smiled broadly at him. Harry grinned. "Er, like, shag her until she knows I love her?"

Lyla had to refrain from letting her head drop exasperatedly to the table. "Show her with the little things. Remember that she hates mushrooms and that she loves it when you make the bed in the morning and when you kiss her awake and rub her back. And sure, you great prat, shag her silly."

"How did you know she hates mushrooms?" Harry asked warily.

"You told me, you arse. I could name a million things you've told me you love about Ginny, things that make her precious to you. Now quit blathering to me and tell her yourself. Honestly, if you can't see how easy it is to show someone you love them when your feelings are that strong -"

Harry held a hand up to get Lyla to stop talking. "I'm going to need a few more firewhiskeys." His head banged against the table three times, loudly. "Make that 4."

Ginny spotted them instantly when she entered the Three Broomsticks. Her eyes seemed to be drawn to Harry like they were magnetized, and their connection seemed to inexorably pull her toward him. As she got closer Harry's eyes flew to hers, connecting instantly across the crowded room.

"Ginny?" he asked confusedly. "Lyla, did you...?"

"Harry James Potter, you horrible, cheating bloody bastard. We had our first date here!"

Harry looked confusedly at Lyla, obviously at a loss as to what the yelling was about. "Uh-oh," said Lyla.

"And you!" yelled Ginny, her chest heaving. "You scarlet woman!"

Lyla looked a little afraid but Harry let forth a burst of hysterical drunken laughter.

"What?" asked Ginny, her cheeks red, but her voice lower in volume.

"This isn't a date," said Lyla slowly. "I'm a lesbian." Harry laughed even harder and made a loud thump as he dropped off the stool.

"Oh dear," Ginny whispered. "Bloody buggering damn." She grabbed all four of Harry's newly arrived firewhiskeys in quick succession and downed them.

"So long then. See that he gets home please?" Ginny disappeared with a pop.

*

After a quick sobering charm from Lyla and a warning to approach the situation cautiously, Harry apparated back home. Ginny was asleep on the couch with an empty wine bottle next to her. Harry laughed tenderly and lifted her dead weight and carried her to the bedroom.

*

"Mmmmph," moaned Ginny, covering her eyes with her hand.

"Good morning," said Harry solemnly kissing her warmly on the lips.

"Please, Harry. Stop teasing and just yell at me for last night."

"Oh, Gin. Why would I yell?"

"Because I'm a jealous bitch. I didn't trust you."

"True. But, Ginny, it's my fault. I haven't been the best husband I could be, and you believed what you saw. I've just been so stressed out and busy and I've been abandoning you horribly. I just...I want you to know..." Harry brushed a hand across her wet cheek causing her to shiver. As he pressed his lips to hers he pulled her whole body flush with hers, pulling at the ends of her long curls.

His lips and body pressed against her steadfastly. His kiss was deep and insistent and full of emotion, and Ginny was beginning to feel like she would break from all the love he was instilling into her, all the fear of losing her. Harry pulled back to look in her eyes and his green eyes were shining brightly.

"Me too, Harry."

And then he pulled her close and kissed her until she knew that no one loved her like he did.