Awkward Moments

"Ginny!" called Hermione, banging on the door to Ginny's house. "Ginny Weasley, open up! We know you're in there!"

"I'm not here!" sang Ginny, as she made her way to the door, a huge grin on her face. She loved it when Hermione and the kids visited.

"Aunt Ginny!" called the voice of her five year old niece, Deirdre. "Aunt Ginny, let us in!"

"Yeah!" piped Reid, the three year old.

"Alright, already!" Ginny said, opening the door to let in Hermione and her redheaded offspring.

"How did they all get red hair?" Ginny asked in awe, for about the hundredth time.

"I honestly don't know," Hermione said. "Red hair is a recessive gene."

"And brown hair is a dominant gene," Ginny added. "So how did yours and Ron's kids end up with red hair?"

Shifting the one year old, Keith, to her other hip, Hermione shook her head. "I think it has something to do with magical blood."

Ginny nodded. "That makes sense."

All further conversation was drowned out when Deirdre called, "Dog pile on Aunt Ginny!"

Reid and Deirdre rushed at their aunt, knocking her on her bum. They climbed on her, trying to wrestle her to the ground. Ginny tickled them mercilessly, impervious to their squeals of laughter.

"We give up!" they cried. "We give up!"

"That's right," Ginny said, in a mock-stern tone. "You cannot defeat your Aunt Ginny."

"Oh yeah?!" shouted Deirdre. He then proceeded to jump on her again, and Reid followed his lead. The three of them fell backwards, Ginny distributing tickles at random, all of them laughing like hyenas.

Hermione just looked on with a smile, absentmindedly toying with the hem of Keith's little pants.

"All right, you two," she said. "Give your aunt some room to breathe." The children obediently backed off.

"How's Ron?" Ginny asked, not moving to get up from the floor.

"He's fine," Hermione replied. "He's just a little tired, is all. What with work and the kids."

"What about you?" Ginny asked, eyeing her friend closely.

"Shoo, you munchkins!" Hermione said to her children. "Here, Deirdre, take Keith with you. Don't stray too far!" she added, as Deirdre led her brothers outside.

"What about you?" Ginny repeated.

"I'm fine, I suppose," Hermione said. "I could do with a cup of tea, though."

Ginny hopped gracefully up from the floor, and headed into the kitchen. "How's things?" she called over her shoulder.

Hermione followed, looking slightly weary. "Things are great. Ron could be home a bit more, but I can't complain. Nice house, wonderful husband, great job with flexible hours, horridly rambunctious children. Oh well, three out of four isn't bad," she added with a smile.

"Don't know what you're complaining about, myself," Ginny told her, as she filled the teakettle with water and placed it on the stove. "I'm all alone in this big, drafty house...doomed to years of spinsterhood...all the good guys are taken..." She put on a dramatic air. "My life is a country song."

"Big, drafty house?" Hermione said. "This house isn't big and drafty. It's practically cozy. As for the rest, you're still young. You're only twenty-three."

"Only a year younger than you," Ginny reminded her, sitting down at the table. "Although, not everyone marries their school sweetheart a year out of Hogwarts, like some people I could mention."

"This is true," Hermione agreed. "And really--"

Screams interrupted her speech. Blood draining from their faces, Hermione and Ginny rushed to a window and looked out into the yard.

It was screams of laughter. Both women sighed in relief.

"Having kids is a chore," Hermione said. "You're worried all the time!"

"But would you trade them for the world?" Ginny asked, watching the three children with a smile.

"No," breathed Hermione.

"I'm never going to have kids," Ginny sighed wistfully.

"Oh, come on," Hermione said. "There are plenty of guys out there."

"Name one," Ginny challenged.

"Harry."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "I can't believe you, Hermione. I had a crush on Harry Potter when I was eleven, eleven, and you never let me forget it!"

"And when you were twelve...and thirteen...and fourteen..."

"Okay, but I got over it after that," Ginny said hastily, before Hermione could continue. It did not work.

"...and fifteen...and sixteen...and seventeen...and eighteen..."

"Okay, I had most definitely gotten over it by the time I was eighteen. I draw the line there!"

"What about--"

"You know," said a voice behind them, "you'd think that two grown women would have better things to do than peek out windows at the neighbors."

"Ron!" Hermione ran to her husband, enveloping him in a big hug. "How did you get here?"

"Well," he said, with the air of someone imparting great knowledge, "there's this thing called a door. And then there's these things called hinges. And when you move the door on the hinges, it...opens!"

Hermione slapped her husband on the arm. "Don't you take that tone with me, Ronald Weasley."

"Don't you take that tone with me, Hermione Weasley," he retorted.

Ginny smiled at the two of them. They reminded her of a Muggle book she had read once. What was the line? Oh yes...years later, when they were grown up they were so used to quarrelling and making it up again that they got married so as to go on doing it more conveniently.

Ginny realized suddenly that she wasn't the only one watching Ron and Hermione. Harry was standing there, smiling at his two best friends. He caught her gaze and walked over to stand by her, Ron and Hermione still arguing.

"Eighteen, huh?" he said quietly, clearly fighting back a grin.

"You know, if you were going to eavesdrop, you might have listened," she said with a smile. "Seventeen, Harry."

"Ah, but that point was still in debate when Ron barged in," he pointed out.

"It was seventeen," she assured him.

"--And if you must know," Hermione said loudly, diverting their attention back to the fighting couple, "we were watching your children, anyway!"

Ron's eyes lit up at the mention of his children, and he hurried over the window.

"They're something, aren't they?" he said fondly, watching them play.

"They sure are," Hermione answered, walking over and snaking an arm around his waist.

"We did good, 'Mione," he said.

Harry and Ginny looked at each other, feeling like they were intruding on this moment. Ginny made a motion with her hand, and Harry nodded. They exited the room quietly, unheeded by the other two.

They made it to the living room before simultaneously bursting out with laughter.

"It's so weird..." Ginny said.

"...Seeing them being nice to each other," Harry finished.

They eyed each other for a moment.

"Harry?" Ginny asked. "Did you just finish my sentence?"

Harry looked completely baffled. "I think I just did."

"Oh crap, it's official," Ginny cried, sinking dramatically onto the couch. "We have known each other way too long!"

"I concur," Harry stated emphatically, sitting down beside her. "From this moment on, I do not know you!"

Ginny eyed him with suspicion. "Who in Merlin's name are you?! Get out of my house, you ruffian!"

They both laughed again. It felt good to laugh, Ginny thought. She loved the way that she and Harry were friends. It just came so easily. Except at those awkward moments.

Absorbed in her thoughts, Ginny stared absently at Harry. As she met his gaze, she knew without a doubt that this was going to be one of those awkward moments.

Her eyes dropped automatically to his lips. Unconsciously, she moistened her lips with her tongue. She looked back up into his eyes, only to watch his eyes go to her lips. She moistened her lips again, and saw his eyes go slightly unfocused.

Harry looked up at her again, and she noticed that both of them were breathing rather rapidly.

They moved in closer at the same time, like some choreographed dance.

"Aunt Ginny!" called Deirdre, running back into the house. "Aunt Ginny, play with us!"

Ginny tore her gaze from Harry's, to look down at her niece.

"Play with you?!" she asked, in an affected voice. "I can't play!"

"Why not?" Deirdre asked.

"I'm too old!" Ginny said. "I can hardly move!"

"No you're not!" Deirdre declared.

"Yes I am," Ginny contradicted. "Look at me, I'm decrepit!"

Deirdre eyed her suspiciously. "I think you made that word up."

Ginny and Harry both laughed again, while Deirdre looked on, almost positive that they were making fun of her.

"Fine," she said. "Daddy will play with me." With that, the little girl stormed out of the room, leaving Ginny and Harry laughing on the couch, their "awkward moment" forgotten.

"That was hilarious!" Ginny cried.

Harry eyed her suspiciously, imitating Deirdre. "I think you made that word up!"

"No, but I did make up artendgrendalyenstala."

"That's a mouthful," Harry observed.

Oh no, Ginny thought in despair, he had to say mouth. Her eyes darted to his mouth again, the grin dying from her face. He noticed, and something flared in his eyes as they met hers.

"Ginny--" he said in a strangled voice.

"Ginny!" came Ron's voice from the kitchen. "Where's your butter?"

"By the sour cream!" Ginny called, standing up from the couch. "I'll get it!"

"No, I found it!" Ron yelled.

"We'd better go in there, before they tear up my kitchen," Ginny said ruefully, not meeting Harry's eyes.

"Yeah," he said, and Ginny thought he sounded oddly disappointed.

As she walked into the kitchen, Harry at her heels, the teakettle started whistling. She hurried over to the stove and turned off the burner.

"You still want tea, Hermione?" Ginny asked over her shoulder.

"Sure," Hermione answered, walking back into the room with Keith and Reid in tow.

"--And then," an indignant Deirdre was telling her father, "Ginny called herself a made up word!"

"Did she now?" Ron asked, squatting down to meet his daughter's gaze.

"Yes," pouted Deirdre. "They weren't even doing anything! They were just staring at each other!"

Ron raised his eyebrows and glanced at Harry, at the exact moment that Hermione raised her eyebrows and glanced at Ginny.

"Were they really?" Ron asked Deirdre.

"We were communicating telepathically," Harry said, tapping his forehead.

"We sure were," Ginny agreed.

Deirdre eyed Harry suspiciously. "I think you made that word up, Uncle Harry."

Harry was not really an uncle to the children, but he was as good as a brother to Ron. So the children called him uncle, and no one questioned his right to the title.

Harry held his hand over his heart, looking wounded. "I most certainly am not making it up! That word is completely authentic!"

"Daddy! Tell Uncle Harry to stop making up words!"

"He's not, Deirdre," Ron said soothingly.

"You aren't?" Deirdre eyed Harry appraisingly.

"I swear it," Harry said solemnly, his gaze never leaving that of the five year old in front of him.

"Okay," she said, nodding. "I'm going back outside. Come on, Keith and Reid!"

After the children made their exit, the four adults collapsed into laughter.

"Super-cali-fragil-istic-expi-ali-docious," Hermione sang, glancing at Harry.

"Even though the sound of it is something quite atrocious!" sang Harry enthusiastically, grabbing Hermione and spinning around the kitchen with her.

"If you say it loud enough you'll always sound precocious," warbled Hermione.

"Super-cali-fragil-istic-expi-ali-docious!" they chorused.

Ron and Ginny looked at each other, then back at the others.

"You two are insane," Ginny informed them.

"Oh it's a jolly holiday with Mary," started Harry, grabbing Ginny around the waist.

"Mary fills the world with light," Hermione joined in, grabbing Ron.

"Whenever the day is gray and ordinary," Harry sang, as the four of them danced around.

"Mary makes the sun shine bright!" Hermione finished.

"I don't know any of the other words," Harry said sadly as he stopped dancing. He didn't let go of Ginny's waist, though. Ginny flushed slightly, but gave no other sign of noticing.

"Me neither!" Hermione exclaimed. "I haven't watched Mary Poppins since I left for Hogwarts."

"Do we even need to ask what you two are talking about?" Ron asked.

"It requires a long, involved explanation," Hermione assured him.

"I trust you," Ron said, releasing her and sitting down at the table.

Hermione sat down next to him, and turned to address Ginny. "So, you and Harry were staring at each other?"

Ginny flushed. "Um...staring contest."

Harry nodded emphatically.

"Sure," Ron said, with a knowing grin.

"Oh, no!" Ginny cried, turning dramatically to Harry. "They have discovered our mad, passionate love affair!"

"Oh, Merlin have mercy!" Harry said in mock despair. "What ever are we going to do?!"

"Have another mad, passionate love affair?" Ginny suggested.

"Good idea." Harry grabbed her hand they ran out of the room. Two seconds later, they walked back in, laughing hysterically.

Ginny gasped with laughter. "Honestly, the looks..."

"...On your faces," Harry finished, nearly choking.

Ginny and Harry eyed each other warily.

"Harry," Ginny said indignantly. "Stop finishing my sentences!"