Awkward Moments

Ginny awakened slowly, dimly registering the fact that she would to be late for Quidditch practice. Harry was going to be livid.

She became slightly confused then, for she remembered that she never slept on her stomach. And her bed was uneven in all the wrong places. She opened her eyes, and realized that she was hugging Harry like a teddy bear, and her leg was thrown over his hips.

A deep sense of dread filled her, for she made the obvious conclusion that they had spent the night together, and all that that implies.

The events of last night abruptly came flooding back to her, and she sighed in relief. I knew I wouldn't do that, she thought to herself. My mother raised me better.

Her heart constricted in her chest as she remembered what Harry had done for her. She wanted to give him a big hug, but she was already hugging him. She smiled to herself and laid her head on his chest, closing her eyes.

Before she drifted to sleep, one final thought passed through her mind. Merlin's beard, Harry's not wearing a shirt.

*

Harry woke up soon after that, and glanced at the clock. He was going to be late for Quidditch practice. He then registered a weight across his hips and chest. At first he thought it was the cat, before remembering that he didn't own a cat.

He opened his eyes, grabbed his glasses off the bedside table, and squinted down at Ginny. She looked so peaceful. For another few precious moments, he could just be her friend.

He didn't know what he was going to do, quite frankly.

Harry assessed himself, trying to get a clue as to what he felt. Every time he looked at Ginny his chest felt tight. It was a pleasant feeling. He had never felt like this before, but it could just be lust. He didn't want to ruin his friendship because of lust.

Something Ginny herself had said to him once, a long time ago, came back to him now.

He could picture her sitting there, eyeing Gabrielle Delacour with a loathsome stare.

"She broke it off with you, just like that?" Ginny asked incredulously.

"Pretty much," Harry said. "I liked her, too."

"Did you love her?" Ginny had asked, looking into his eyes in a way that made him feel uncomfortable.

"What is love, anyway?" he had asked. "I like her, of course. I could marry the girl, settle down, have a few dozen kids or something. If that's love, then yes, I do love her."

Ginny had smiled sadly at him. "That's not love, Harry. Love is not someone you can live with."

"What is it, then?" he had challenged.

"It's someone you can't live without."

Her answer had stunned him, and it stunned him still. He looked down at her sleeping form, and unconsciously wrapped his arms a little tighter around her.

Harry eyed her contemplatively. He could live with her, certainly. He could imagine with no problem he and Ginny growing old together, in a completely Ron and Hermione fashion. But could he live without her?

Something in his chest squeezed uncomfortably at the thought. He tried to imagine a life without Ginny. Without her impulsive hugs, her vivacious presence, her easy humor, and that indefinable, sparkling quality that made her unmistakably Ginny.

The life that stretched before him seemed rather bleak.

He realized with a shock that, no, he most definitely could not live without her. The shock was only superficial, because on some deeper level he had known it all along.

He smiled to himself, wondering how she would feel about that. As if on cue, Ginny's eyes opened.

*

Harry was smiling at her, in a way that made her feel both nervous and exhilarated. As she had registered earlier, he was not wearing a shirt. With her excellent view of his torso, she could see that Quidditch most definitely agreed with him. He was lean and fit, his body all hard planes and sharp contrasts. Ginny shook her head to dispel the unwholesome thoughts that entered her brain.

"What?" she asked. "Do I have something on my face?"

Harry chuckled softly. "Yes."

"What?"

"Freckles," Harry said, grinning at her.

"Jeez, thanks, Harry," she groused. "As if I didn't know."

Ginny abruptly realized that neither of them had moved. She was still laying with her head on his chest, looking up at him. His arms were around her, and their faces were so close together...she would just have to scoot up a tiny bit to...

No! This was her best friend she was talking about. But her best friend had quite a strange look in his eye.

"You're looking at me funny," she informed him.

He crossed his eyes and stuck his tongue out a bit. "I am now," he said, though his speech was impeded by the fact that his tongue was still sticking out of his mouth.

"You are always funny looking," she said.

"Hey!" Harry said, his face reverting back to normal. "I resent that!"

"No, you resemble that," Ginny retorted, looking him up and down. She was briefly distracted by sight of his bare upper body, but forced herself not to stare.

Then she looked at the clock. "Oh, bugger," she said. "We've almost missed Quidditch practice."

Harry craned his neck to see the clock, which now read 8:30. "We've already missed an hour, we won't make it in time to practice for more than half an hour."

"It's not worth it," Ginny decided. She raised herself up so that her arms were crossed on Harry's bare chest and her chin was resting on them. "Not that I could go back to sleep, I'm already awake."

"I was awake about fifteen minutes before you were," Harry told her.

Ginny laughed. "What were you doing?"

"Just thinking," Harry said.

"About what?"

"Something you said," Harry answered.

Ginny laughed again. "I'm so brilliant, you have to ponder every word that comes out of my mouth."

Harry frowned slightly. "Do I have to ponder the obscenities?"

"Har-ry!" Ginny cried, slapping him in the middle of his chest.

"I didn't do anything!" Harry defended, grabbing her hand to prevent any further abuse. Ginny briefly stopped breathing.

Recovering herself, she stuck her tongue out at him. "You are a git, Harry Potter," she said.

"I get that a lot," he replied.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "What am I going to do with you?" she sighed.

"Hopefully feed me," Harry said conversationally.

Ginny threw her hands up in despair. "Fine, fine, fine!"

*

Ginny sat up, turned, and hopped gracefully out of the bed, turning to give him a grin.

Harry stifled a groan. She was wearing his tee shirt. Her hair was rumpled, her eyes were still sleepy, and she was wearing his tee shirt and smiling at him. The sight conjured up all sorts of what Ron would call "unspeakable things."

"You're looking at me funny again," she informed him. "It's quite disconcerting."

"You are just fascinating, Miss Weasley," Harry said.

"Fascinating?"

"Yes, it means interesting to look at, right?"

Ginny shook her head in exasperation, although Harry saw her hiding a grin.

"Let's get that food," Ginny said. "Now that you mention it, I'm starving."

"Fine by me," Harry said. "Lead the way!"

Laughing, Ginny walked towards the kitchen, Harry close on her heels. He tried to avoid staring at her bum. He failed miserably when he noted that his tee shirt was the only thing she was wearing. She had been laying practically on top of him all night, and she hadn't been wearing anything but a worn tee shirt and a flimsy pair of red knickers. He kept getting glimpses of red lace as she walked.

He must have groaned aloud, because she turned to glance at him questioningly.

"What?" she said.

"Nothing," Harry said quickly.

Breakfast was even worse. He helped her make eggs and pancakes. Eggs frying in her pan, him flipping pancakes beside her. She was laughing, and her eyes were sparkling and shining with inner mirth. He decided that he liked girls that smiled with their eyes.

*

Harry hadn't bothered to put on a shirt, and Ginny was hyperaware of that all through breakfast. Despite that, she devoured her eggs and pancakes with relish.

"We make a pretty good team," she said conversationally. "We should do this more often."

She imagined getting married and doing this every morning for the rest of their lives.

Harry laughed. "What, spend the night or make breakfast?"

"Both," she said.

"I'm not sure what your six big and scary brothers would think of that," Harry said.

Ginny laughed. "You're afraid of Ron?"

"Yeah!" Harry said. "In case you hadn't noticed, he's tall and scary."

"You're tall and scary, too," Ginny pointed out.

"Not as tall as Ron," Harry retorted.

"No one is as tall as Ron," Ginny said. She had another thought. "You're afraid of Percy?"

"Good point," Harry said. "Make that your five scary older brothers. You think I'm scary?"

"Ferociously scary," Ginny assured him.

Harry seemed to like this idea. He began growling menacingly, giving her a threatening look. "I'll get you, my pretty, and your little dog too!"

Ginny just looked at him. "What?"

"Another Muggle movie," Harry said. "If I only had a brain...." he sang. "I don't know any words other than that."

"Sounds fun," Ginny said.

"It had a witch in it," Harry told her. "But a house fell on her and she died. Or was that the Wicked Witch of the East?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "The witches were all evil, of course."

"Oh, no," Harry said. "There were the Wicked Witches of the West and East, but there were the Good Witches of the North and South."

"That makes perfect sense," Ginny said, finishing the last of her egg.

"Doesn't it, though?" Harry said.

"You are too much," Ginny said, shaking her head.

"Thank you," Harry replied, getting up to put their dishes in the sink.

"So, what are you doing today?" Ginny asked, watching him rinse the dishes.

"I had planned on being lazy. Sleeping, maybe hanging out with you in our pajamas," Harry said. "What do you think of that?"

Ginny chuckled. "I'm not even wearing all of my pajamas."

"I'd noticed," Harry said dryly.

"Don't take that tone with me, Harry," Ginny said. "You aren't exactly decent either."

Harry looked down at himself. "At least my knickers aren't showing."

Ginny gasped and looked down. Sure enough, there were her bright red knickers, for all the world to see. Damn Hermione for insisting that she have cute knickers. Why she needed them, when no one was going to see them, was beyond her.

"It's all in the feeling," Hermione had explained. "You have on cute knickers, you feel more confident. I don't know why it works that way, it just does."

"It's not my fault," Ginny said to Harry. "Your shirt isn't long enough."

"See what you get for stealing my clothes?"

Ginny looked around for something to throw at Harry. There was nothing handy, so she got up and smacked him lightly across the back.

That was a mistake. She knew that it was a mistake the moment her hand touched his skin. She could feel the muscle underneath her fingers tense.

Harry turned to look at her. His face was full of that same emotion she had seen two days previously, and she realized what she had unwittingly brought down on them.

It was decision making time.

Ginny's mind raced. Was she ready to love him? Did she love him enough? Did he love her at all? In the hopes of distracting him and giving herself time to think, she asked him one question.

"Harry, when you said you were thinking earlier, you know, before I woke up, what were you thinking about?"

She knew that Harry realized what she was doing. Luckily, he was such a good friend that he obliged her.

"I was thinking about something you said. Do you remember when Gabrielle ditched me for Dennis Creevey?"

Ginny nodded.

"When you said that love wasn't someone you could live with..."

"But it was someone you can't live without," Ginny finished with him. She wondered what would have brought that to his mind, and hoped that it was his feelings for her. But if he had feelings for her, was she sure of her own feelings?

Not the one you can live with, but the one you can't live without.

She quickly took stock of herself. Could she live without Harry? Did she even want to try? She tried to imagine life without him, unknowingly echoing his earlier thoughts. His smiles, his comforting presence, his subtle way of making her laugh. His determination, his strength, his ever-present hope. Could she live without him?

No.

Her heart rose into her throat, until she could hardly breathe with the sheer abruptness of her realization. She loved Harry. Loved him truly and dearly. She couldn't live without him. She wanted to grow old with him. She wanted to make breakfast with him every morning, and sleep in his old tee shirts.

She looked him in the eye, and could tell that he saw her newfound assurance. He returned her broad smile with one of his own.

"The one you can't live without," he said softly.

Ginny replied by kissing him.

It was pleasure, joy, waiting, years of suppressed desires, ages of unrelenting hope, wishes for the future, fondness for the past, and happiness with the present. It was a kiss to end all kisses, the kind of kiss you can only give when you truly love someone, and are safe in the knowledge that they truly love you in return.

Ginny didn't know how long they stood in the kitchen snogging. For her time stood still, sped up again, went backwards, and stood on it's head.

"Harry," she whispered against his mouth.

"What?" he whispered back. Somehow it seemed that they should not speak out loud, for fear of waking up and finding that the whole thing was a dream.

"I love you," Ginny said simply.

Harry smiled at her, before leaning in close to whisper in her ear. "I love you too, Gin."

And then he kissed her again.

"MOMMY!" a voice called, three minutes or three hours later. Harry broke off kissing her to stare up at the door, where a very shocked Deirdre was looking at them in astonishment. Ginny and Harry jumped apart.

"What, Deirdre?" Hermione said, coming into the kitchen and smiling a greeting at Harry and Ginny.

"Mommy! Aunt Ginny and Uncle Harry were KISSING!"

Hermione turned swiftly to look at the two of them. Under her gaze, Ginny felt sure that she must look a mess, despite the fact that she couldn't control her grin. Snogging will do that to a person, she supposed.

"Have they, now?" Hermione asked calculatingly.

"Yes!" Deirdre said.

"Who was doing what?" Ron asked, coming into the kitchen with Keith in his arms and Reid at his side.

"Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny were kissing!" Deirdre said.

"Nice shirt, Ginny," Ron said casually. Ginny looked down, and remembered that she was wearing Harry's shirt. And a small pair of red knickers.

"Okay, Harry," Ron said menacingly. He couldn't quite pull it off with his adorable son in his arms, but he did surprisingly well. "Spill."

"Deirdre's right," Harry said simply. "I was kissing Ginny."

"And this has nothing to do with the fact that the couch-bed doesn't look slept on?" Ron enquired.

"Well...you see..." Harry stuttered.

"I had a bad dream," Ginny said. "Can't one friend comfort another?"

"Friends don't exactly stand in the kitchen and snog each other senseless," Ron pointed out.

Ginny put her hands on her hips. "Yes, because your relationship with your best friend was completely platonic."

Ron looked at Hermione and grinned.

"Because," Ginny continued, "babies come from platonic friendships all the time."

"Hey," Deirdre piped up. "Where do babies come from, anyway?"

Ginny grinned evilly. Ron groaned. "Oh, thanks a lot, Ginny," he said.

"We'll tell you when you're older, Deirdre," Hermione said.

"I want to know now," Deirdre whined.

"Not now, sweetheart," Ron said. "I'm busy interrogating your uncle."

Deirdre threw up her hands in exasperation, a gesture she undoubtedly learned from her mother. "I wish you would stop making up words!"

Ron more or less ignored her. "So, what are your intentions towards my sister, Harry?"

Ginny groaned.

Instead of answering Ron, Harry turned to Ginny.

"Ginny, that's a very good question," Harry said. "What exactly are my intentions?"

Ginny had no idea where he was going with this. "You tell me," she said.

"Fine, if you insist," Harry said, shrugging. "It's a bit spur-of-the-moment, so things aren't as I want them to be. There should be candlelight, roses, and romantic music. But there isn't."

Ginny had an inkling of what he was going to do. He couldn't do it, not now. He wouldn't.

Harry bent down on one knee in front of her, and took her left hand in both of his. Oh, Merlin, he was going to do it.

"There isn't even a ring. There's just me. Ginny, will you marry me?"

He did it.

And now he was staring up at her, waiting for her answer. She wondered briefly if it was the right thing to do. Was she really ready?

Not the one you can live with, but the one you can't live without.

"Yes!" she shouted. "I will!"

Harry laughed and bounded up off the ground, enveloping her in a hug so tight she could barely breathe. Nor did breathing seem quite necessary.

"So much for the platonic friends theory," Ron said sardonically.