Awkward Moments

The next day, Ginny whistled as she locked the door to her house and apparated to the practice field, already in her Quidditch robes. Smiling ruefully at herself, she ceased her cheery whistling.

Ginny was a chaser for the Tutshill Tornadoes, hailed by the daily prophet as a talent rivaled only by the seeking abilities of her fellow teammate, Harry Potter

As she walked into the changing room, she began to hum. She smiled again, and shook her head. The song was just so catchy.

"In a good mood, are we?" came a voice behind her. Turning around, she caught sight of Seamus Finnigan, leaning against the doorframe, smiling rakishly at her.

"What reason is there not to be in a good mood?" she asked.

"I don't know," Seamus said, shrugging his shoulders.

"Voldemort is dead, the day is young, and we have Quidditch practice in half an hour. Life is good," she said.

"And you have me to thank for one of those," said Harry, walking into the room.

"This is true," Ginny said.

Harry had finally defeated Voldemort his seventh year at Hogwarts. The wizarding world had been in a fervor, the likes of which hadn't been seen since the defeat of Grindewald in 1945.

Ginny picked up her broomstick and walked out of the changing rooms, humming again. Harry grinned at her.

"You got that stupid song stuck in my head," she said in mock anger.

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

Ginny just shook her head and walked passed him. She went out onto the pitch, drinking in the fresh morning air. Feelin inexplicably happy, she dropped her broom and spread her arms out wide. Twirling around in a circle, she laughed joyously.

"In a good mood, are we?" Harry asked, watching her with a grin.

"I seem to be getting that a lot today," she said, picking her broom up off the ground.

"What's got you so happy-go-lucky this morning?" he asked.

"Life," she said, shrugging her shoulders. "Life, friends, Quidditch, love..."

"Love?" he echoed, raising his eyebrows at her.

"Platonic love," she said laughingly. "No, I'm not having a mad, passionate love affair with anyone."

"That's not what you told Ron and Hermione," he reminded her.

She just laughed and mounted her broom. As she rose into the sky, she heard him singing.

"Super-cali-fragil-istic-expi-ali-docious...."

Shaking her head and willing herself not to laugh, she started warming up. She lost all thought in the whoosh of flying. The adrenaline surged through her body like a flood, and she laughed aloud at the sheer pleasure of soaring through the sky.

"Oi! Miss Platonic!" came Harry's voice, a welcome intrusion. She looked down to see him surrounded by the rest of the team waving both of his arms in a gesture that clearly meant for her to come down.

"Aye, aye Captain!" she said, giving him a snappy salute as she dismounted her broom.

"Glad you're enjoying yourself and all, but it's time to start practice," he said.

"What did it look like I was doing?" she asked indignantly.

"Shut up and think fast." He threw her the Quaffle before she had time to react, and it hit her in the middle of the chest.

"Ow," she said, picking the red leather ball up off the ground. The rest of the team laughed. She glared around at them. Seamus Finnigan and Luna Lovegood, Ginny's fellow chasers. Colin and Dennis Creevey, beaters. And the keeper, Blaise Zabini.

"Got to be quick, Ginny," Blaise advised, giving Ginny a knowing smile.

"Go eat a bludger, you crazy wench," Ginny suggested, throwing the girl a dirty look.

"Block Puddlemere's chasers from scoring on Friday, and I'll do whatever you like," Blaise said.

"Isn't blocking them your job? Or do you need all the help you can get?" Ginny said nastily, although her grin revealed that she was only teasing.

"Alright, enough," Harry said. "Get your arses in the air, the lot of you!"

As he turned and bent down to grab his broom, Ginny threw the Quaffle at him. It hit him square in the bum, knocking him off balance. He toppled to the ground, amidst the laughter of his teammates.

"Very funny, Gin," he said, picking himself up off the ground.

She smiled cheekily at him. "You asked for it."

"In the air, before I have to force feed you a broomstick," Harry said.

Seamus snorted with laughter. Harry and Ginny turned to him, confused looks on both of their faces.

"Seamus," Luna said, fixing her dreamy stare on him, "you have an extremely dirty mind."

"If you knew what I was laughing about, then you have a dirty mind too!" Seamus retorted

Suddenly, Harry and Ginny got what was so funny. They glanced at each other, then shuddered in unison.

"Eurgh, Seamus," Ginny said, looking nauseous. "Thanks for that mental image."

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Ginny love," Seamus said, affecting an innocent expression.

"All the same...." Harry turned a delicate shade of green. "Eurgh."

Harry threw the Quaffle at Seamus. Seamus was expecting it, though, and caught it deftly.

"Thanks, Harry," the Irish boy said cheerfully.

"Up, all of you!" Harry said, abruptly transforming into Quidditch captain extraordinaire. "Ginny, Seamus, Luna, I want a hundred rounds of figure eights." Seeing their incredulous looks, he relented. "Okay, I want you to figure eight until I say stop."

"Eight times one is eight, eight times two is sixteen," Seamus said. "Eight times three is twenty-four, eight times four is thirty-six...."

"You know what I mean, funny man," Harry said. "Colin, Dennis, I want you to work on those maneuvers we were discussing. Blaise, I'll throw a few at you, get down to the hoops while I get the spare Quaffle."

Ginny raced down the pitch, catching Seamus's pass, throwing to Luna as Seamus flew under her broomstick.

The figure eight drills were like a ballet, every motion had to be perfectly in unison. Pass the Quaffle, under the middle chaser, catch the Quaffle, over the other chaser, pass the Quaffle, then do it over again. Up and down the pitch they went, until Harry's whistle signaled the end of the drill.

"Okay, you three!" Harry called. "That was excellent! Now work on the Porskoff Ploy and the Woollongong Shimmy!"

Ginny was dead tired by the end of practice.

The team headed to the showers, dragging their broomsticks limply behind them.

Fifteen minutes later, refreshed by her shower and dressed in clean clothes, Ginny started to hum again.

"Super-cali-fragil-istic-expi-ali-docious," she sang softly, as she put her dirty Quidditch robes into her bag.

"Even though the sound of it is something quite atrocious," sang Harry.

She glanced around at him, noticing with a feeling of mixed dread and anticipation that they were the only ones in the changing room.

"I do wish that you would stop sneaking up on me," she said, turning to face him.

"Where's the fun in that?" he asked.

"You're impossible," she said without rancor.

"Would you love me if I wasn't?"

"Who said I loved you?"

"Excuse me, Miss Platonic Love."

"I never said I loved you platonically."

"Who were you talking about, then?" he asked, looking curious.

"Draco Malfoy," she said, knowing that would infuriate him to no end.

"Cocky little ferret," he said venomously.

"I don't understand what your problem with Malfoy is," Ginny said. "He's reformed, isn't he? Denounced his Death Eater father and all of that?"

"Doesn't stop him being a ferret," Harry said.

"He's a ferret, I'm a weasel," she said, making a wide, sweeping gesture with her hands. "We'll get along great together."

"If he touches you, I'll murder him with my bare hands," Harry said calmly.

Ginny stared at him in astonishment. "Would you really?"

"Yes," he said.

She smiled fondly at him. "You are something else."

The smile died on her lips as she caught the expression on his face. He was looking at her in a way no one had ever looked at her before, with hunger and longing and something deeper. Something she didn't want to name, although she knew that she felt it too.

Her heart rate sped up as he took a few steps towards her, stopping about three feet away.

"Gin-girl..." he breathed. She loved that nickname, loved it when he called her that. He knew it, too.

He reached out a hand and cupped her cheek, his gaze dropping briefly to her lips before flickering back up to her eyes. She stopped breathing altogether, looking up at him in half-fearful anticipation.

"Harry?" Seamus said, and Ginny could hear his footsteps drawing nearer. She hastily backed away from him, her face burning as she looked away from his intense green eyes.

She didn't see the look of disappointment on his face.

"Harry, are you in here?" Seamus asked, entering the changing room.

"Yeah," Harry said dully.

Seamus frowned at him, and then looked at Ginny. His brow wrinkled in confusion.

"I thought you left, Gin," he said.

"Not yet," she said with force cheerfulness as she turned and zipped up her bag, her breathing returning to normal.

"Oh," Seamus said. "Listen, Harry, I was wondering if you'd explain this Parkin's Pincer thing to me. Do you want the girls to corner the chaser, and I move in from the front, or do you want me to help the girls?"

"See you later, Harry," Ginny said, hoisting her bag to her shoulders. "Seamus." She inclined her head to Seamus.

"Bye, Gin," Seamus said cheerfully, then continued to babble to Harry about the Parkin's Pincer as Ginny disapparated.

*

Ginny sank onto her couch, wondering what in the world she was thinking. Harry was her best friend, and she didn't want to ruin that for a fling.

She felt the comfortable softness of her couch, but then remembered the moment with Harry yesterday. She closed her eyes, not wanting to see the offending piece of furniture, but it was no good. She kept picturing Harry's beautiful green eyes, filled with an emotion that she was scared to name.

This had happened before. Ginny and Harry had gone through phases where the attraction between them was so thick that it was almost palatable. They had gotten over it, and surely they would get over it this time.

Somehow, the thought was not comforting.

*

Harry sank onto his bed, his thoughts whirling around in his head like a ship in a storm.

He pondered the mystery that was Ginny Weasley. His best friend, his comrade, his confidante. These feelings that were raging around inside of him were confusing, making him do things that he wouldn't normally do.

He was behaving like he was fifteen again, in the Room of Requirement with Cho Chang. Remembering the fiasco that had been, he swore never to do that to Ginny.

But how would he keep his word, if every whisper of the wind reminded him of her? The soft ivory silk of his curtains reminded him of her skin. The dark brown of his morning coffee was the exact color of her eyes. The russet gold of a fall leaf bore an uncanny resemblance to her vivid hair.

He groaned in despair as he recalled the look on her face earlier that day, when he had been about to kiss her. Thank Merlin for Seamus Finnigan's interruption, or he would have ruined the best thing in his life, his friendship with Ginny.

He and Ginny had had rough times before. He had almost kissed her at Ron and Hermione's wedding, despite the fact that she was only seventeen. When Ron and Hermione moved into their new house, Harry and Ginny had come over to help. She had looked so adorable, with her hair tied back with a bandana and dirt on her nose. Luckily, Ron had walked in before he had made a fool of himself.

When Sirius died, he had found comfort in Ginny's constant presence. She was there for him, a shoulder to lean on, a hand to hold, a true friend.

How could he throw all of that away?

Staring up at the ceiling, Harry began to hum softly.

*

Lying on her couch four blocks away, Ginny began to sing.

"Super-cali-fragil-istic-expi-ali-docious...."