A/N: Written for the Ashes Fic-a-fest at LiveJournal, for Eimajunknown, who gave the following prompt: It's Harry and Ginny's honeymoon and everything goes wrong.
Harry looked down at the woman in his arms and pulled her closer as they danced. He'd been looking forward to this day for what seemed like ages, and it was finally here.
He'd made Ginny his wife.
It had really been a perfect day. Even the highly unpredictable March weather had cooperated. Their family and friends had surrounded them when they said their vows. Molly and Hermione had cried, and Harry thought he'd seen Arthur surreptitiously wipe a tear away when he'd given his only daughter away.
Ginny had been brilliant. From her cream-coloured robes to her hair to the flowers she carried, she was perfection. She took his breath away every time he looked at her.
But now he was beginning to get impatient. He just knew that as brilliant as Ginny looked in her wedding robes, she'd look even more brilliant out of them.
Her arms tightened around his neck, and he looked into her eyes before leaning down to kiss her again.
"When can we leave?" she murmured when they pulled apart. Her body moulded against his.
"Bit keen, are we?" Harry asked with a smirk. Truth be told, so was he. He'd been ready for the two of them to get started on their new life together for what seemed like forever.
"With you? Always," she replied, her voice sultry and full of promise.
He gulped, then took her hand in his and led her off the dance floor and over to her parents. Their "quick good-bye" lingered a bit longer than he would've liked, but finally, they were able to free themselves and leave.
He thought of all the plans he'd made for their honeymoon, going over them in his head one last time. He'd taken care to keep their destination for the night a secret from everyone save Ron and Hermione, to prevent anything... untoward... happening. He loved Ginny's family, but he really didn't want them involved in his honeymoon... especially the twins.
His smile was self-satisfied as he Side-Along Apparated Ginny to their hotel. It was going to be perfect.
It was wretched.
Ginny stood off to the side in the hotel lobby, watching as he attempted to check into the honeymoon suite. Unfortunately, attempted was the operative word.
"Harry, is everything all right?"
He flashed his wife a tight smile. "Of course it is, love. Just give me a minute, and we'll be able to go up to our room."
Then he turned to the clerk. "What do you mean there are no reservations under the name of Potter?" he whispered harshly. "I have the confirmation right here." He dug in his pocket and pulled out a slightly crumpled piece of parchment. "Reservations for HJ Potter for the honeymoon suite for Saturday the twentieth of March." He thought something sounded odd about the date, but pushed it out of his mind until the clerk spoke again.
"Ah. I believe that you have found our problem, Mr Potter. Today is not the twentieth; today is the thirteenth."
"What?" His voice rose in pitch, and it was much louder than he'd intended.
"Harry?" she called again.
"Be right there, Ginny."
"I'll bloody well kill Ron," he muttered under his breath. "Ask him to do one thing for me, one thing, and he bollocks it up. 'Of course, I'll make the reservations for you,' he says. 'It'll be no trouble at all. Want your day to be special, don't we?' he says."
"Mr Potter?" The clerk sounded nervous.
Harry sighed and apologised to the clerk. It wasn't his fault. His gigantic prat of a best mate, however...
"Is there any way we could get another room, just for tonight? It's our wedding night, and we don't have anywhere to go until tomorrow."
The man gave Harry a sympathetic look. "Let me check." He paused and rifled through some parchment for a moment before continuing. "We do have one room left. It's considerably smaller than the honeymoon suite, though."
"We'll take it," Harry said, relieved. True, it wasn't what he'd planned, but they'd still have a nice room... and a bed... for their wedding night, and that was all that mattered.
He signed the register with a flourish and took the key before leading the way to their room. It was on the first floor rather than the top, and it opened into the corridor, but it would be fine. Or so he thought until he opened the door after sweeping Ginny up in his arms to carry her across the threshold.
"Bloody hell," he grumbled when he saw the room. The decor was just what one would expect when looking at a nice, moderately expensive hotel room, except for one thing.
"Single beds, Harry?" Ginny asked from his arms.
"Your brother made the reservations for the honeymoon suite for our wedding night."
"Why are we in this room, then?" she asked, confused.
"For the twentieth of March."
"But it's the—"
"Thirteenth. Yes." He looked at her, hoping she could see how remorseful he felt. "I'm sorry, Gin. But it's only one night, and I promise to make it up to you. I know it's not what you expected—"
"Oh, shut it, Harry. It's not your fault; it's the fault of that gormless prat I call a brother." She walked over and sat on the bed nearest the window, bounced just a bit on the mattress, then patted the spot beside her. "We'll just have to hex Ron when we get back to make up for it. This will work," she said. "It's not like we're going to need more room than what we have here." She grinned and stood up, sauntering over to him and giving him a lingering kiss. "Why don't I just go change in to something more comfortable while you order some champagne..." She trailed off suggestively, and Harry marvelled again at his luck. She really was brilliant.
After pulling them from his jacket pocket, he enlarged their overnight bags and handed Ginny hers. Then he busied himself with ordering some champagne, strawberries and chocolate while he waited on her to change in the loo. But when their food arrived and she still hadn't come out, he started to get worried.
"Ginny? Is everything all right?" he asked.
"I will kill them," he heard her mutter through the door. "Think they're funny, do they? Well, wait 'til I get through with them. Then they'll know funny. Gits."
"Ginny? The food's here. Why don't you come out, love?"
She opened the door a crack. "I can't." She paused, then added, "I don't want to."
"Come on, Ginny. It's not like I haven't seen you in a bikini. What's the difference?"
"The difference is that when I was in my bikini, I actually had clothes on."
His eyebrows shot up at that comment. "Erm... do you mean you don't have clothes on now? Because I wouldn't mind, if that were the case. But I know you went in there to change, and I'm looking forward to seeing you in some of that lingerie you brought home from your hen night." He still couldn't believe that she'd shown him all of her new gifts. She had some wicked friends, and he'd been thinking of her in that skimpy black number... and the green one... and the blue lacy one... ever since.
"I still have clothes on, you pervert. But I can't very well come out in lingerie if I can't get it on, now can I?" she said, clearly very exasperated. She opened the door and stuck her head out, handing him a mass of satiny material "Someone made certain of that. The openings are stuck shut, and it's all been sewn into one long line of satin and silk and lace."
Harry groaned. He wanted to see her in that lingerie so badly he could almost taste it. He shook his head to clear it. "Are you a witch or not, Ginny? Isn't there a spell or something to help with that?"
If looks could kill, he thought he'd be lying dead on the floor from the force of the glare she gave him. "Don't you think I've tried that, Harry? And look what else I found." She handed him a note and a pair of high-necked flannel pyjamas.
"Dearest Ginny," Harry read aloud. "Surprise! Now, now, little sister, before you lose your temper, let us remind you that, as your big brothers, it is our duty — nay, our sacred honour — to protect your virtue, even on this, your wedding night. Perhaps, when you're older and wiser and no longer in need of our protection, you might be able to convince us to remove the spell that will allow you to utilise these lovely, if very brief, garments to their fullest potential. Until then, we're afraid that you're stuck with flannel.
Love, Gred and Forge.
P.S. Give our best to your husband."
He looked up at her. "They spelled your knickers closed?"
"Only the sexy ones. They left these—" she held out a pair of old-fashioned pantaloons— "as replacements."
Harry coughed to hide his laughter, and she glared at him again. "It's not funny, Harry. I had it all planned out. I was going to come out there wearing the sexiest thing you could ever imagine and you weren't going to be able to keep your eyes off of me, and look! Look at what they left me with."
"Ginny. Love. It's all right."
"No, it's not! It's our wedding night, and we don't have the right room because of Ron, and I don't have anything to wear because of the stupid twins, and it was supposed to be perfect, and it's not."
"Do you still have your wedding robes on?" he asked suddenly.
"Obviously, since I don't have anything else to change into. Why?"
"Why don't you come out here and find out," he suggested. His breath caught when he saw her; although he hadn't thought it possible, she was more beautiful than before. Her cheeks were flushed from anger and she'd taken her hair down so it floated around her shoulders, emphasizing the creaminess of her skin.
"You are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," he said, pulling her into his arms. "You don't need a sexy negligee to get me so I can't keep my eyes off of you. You do that just by being you." He released her and took her hand, pulling her over towards one of the beds, where he took her into his arms again and kissed her fiercely. His hands wandered over her back, fumbling with the buttons there.
He lifted his head and stared into her eyes as he slipped the buttons through their holes, exposing her skin to his touch. This, he thought, was exactly what he'd imagined when he thought of his honeymoon.
This was not what he'd imagined his honeymoon would be like.
First, they hadn't been able to get into the honeymoon suite like he'd planned. Then they'd found Ginny's underthings sewn together in such a way that even between the two of them, they couldn't get them apart.
"Ow! Bloody hell," Harry grumbled from the floor where he'd just landed. It was half-six in the morning, much earlier than he'd planned, and he'd woken up after falling out of the bed when he rolled over. "Stop laughing," he ordered his giggling wife, which only made her laugh harder.
"Oh, Harry. I wish you could've seen your face," she said. "It was priceless."
"You try landing on your arse while starkers and see how you like it, then," he said, scowling.
"I told you we should've enlarged the bed," she replied. "But you said, 'We don't need to make it bigger. There's plenty of room,' remember? You said something about wanting to hold me close while we slept."
"Well, I did," he retorted. "And I slept perfectly well, thank you, until I tried to roll over without stealing the blankets off of you. That's when I landed on the floor."
"Awww, poor baby," she said, grinning. Then she waggled her eyebrows at him and budged over towards the wall. "There's room up here. I can help you soothe your sore bum, if you like."
"Yeah?" he asked, his voice husky.
"Come on up and see," she suggested and proceeded to show him exactly what she meant.
Later that morning... much, much later... they decided to get dressed and continue on to their next destination. Although Harry's bum was still sore, he was actually feeling pretty confident about the day's prospects. A morning spent in bed (and the shower) with his wife tended to improve his disposition, or so he'd discovered. So he was in a chipper mood when he began to pull his clothes out of his bag, ready to prepare for the day.
Ginny was dressed in one of the robes provided by the hotel and running a brush through her hair as she watched him dress. She smiled and her eyes raked over his body when he dropped his towel in order to don his boxers.
"Stop staring, Ginny, or we'll never get out of here," he said.
"You wouldn't mind, and you know it, Potter," she shot back at him.
"True, that," he replied, giving her a cocky grin. "But we've reservations in Cyprus, and I'd like to actually make it there." He held open the waistband of his boxers, lifted his left foot to step into them... and promptly lost his balance and landed on his bum again.
They'd sewed the legs shut.
He heard Ginny gasp as she ran over to help him up. "Are you all right?"
"Other than my arse and my pride?" he asked. "I'm fine. But I'm going to kill your brothers." Standing, he grabbed his wand from the bedside table and pointed it at the offending garment, saying, "Finite Incantatem." He tried sticking his hand through the leg of his pants again, only to be met with a wall of material. Then, as Ginny watched, he tried every other spell he knew that might cancel the effects of the sewing charm the twins had used, to no avail.
"They got you, too, huh?" Ginny said sympathetically.
He raised his eyes to hers. "One way or another, we will get your brothers back."
"Look at how gorgeous it is, Harry," Ginny gushed. "The sand is so white and the water—! I never knew it could be so blue," Harry watched his wife fondly as she took in their surroundings, awe plainly visible in her eyes. He'd known she'd love the beach.
She turned to him. "You're certain we have reservations?" He nodded. "For this hotel? For the fourteenth of March?" He nodded again.
"I'm positive, Ginny. Here's the confirmation notice, and here's our luggage claim." She gave him a brilliant smile and he sighed in relief. Maybe, if he were lucky, they'd be able to forget how terribly their honeymoon had started and make some fabulous memories. That was his plan, in any case.
At the reception desk, Harry breathed another sigh of relief as the clerk gave him the key to a private bungalow, which was located directly on the beach and boasted of its own private shoreline. After getting directions and being assured that their luggage, which they had sent on ahead of them, had been deposited in their room earlier that morning, the couple leisurely made their way towards the little cottage that would be their home for the next week.
Harry knew, as soon as they arrived at Bungalow number 7, that he had indeed made the right choice for their honeymoon destination. Ginny was obviously enraptured as she watched the waves pound the shoreline, and her eyes sparkled with excitement.
"Can we go swimming?" she asked enthusiastically.
He gave her an indulgent smile. "Anything you want, love."
He watched as pink tinged her cheeks. "Anything?" she asked coyly.
"Anything," he responded, his voice filled with promise.
She gave him a cheeky grin. "Right, then. I want to swim. Come on, Harry! Let's change!" She grabbed him by the hand and pulled him into the bungalow, stopping dead when she saw the room.
It had an open floor plan, with one large central room and several smaller alcoves. There was a small kitchen and dining area, and a living area with two loveseats around a short mahogany table. But by far the most impressive feature of the room was the large four-poster bed that stood off to the side, beside the floor-to-ceiling picture windows gracing the front of the bungalow. Harry could very easily imagine lying in that bed with Ginny, sated by their lovemaking and watching and listening to the ebb and flow of the water.
"Wow," she said. "This is..."
"Yeah. It is, isn't it?" He was somewhat surprised at the pride he felt because of her reaction to the room.
She made her way over to the wardrobe and opened it with the obvious intention of retrieving their swimming costumes, but stopped short once the doors were fully opened.
"Harry?" she called. "Didn't they say our luggage was in our room?"
"Yeah. It should be right there." He stepped closer to her and peered over her shoulder into the wardrobe, only to find it empty. "That's odd. Maybe they put it somewhere else." They turned away and looked around the bungalow, going so far as to try to Summon the luggage before giving up in defeat.
"It's not here," Harry said, after his fifth attempt at the Summoning Charm failed to retrieve anything other than their overnight bags.
Ginny surveyed the room again. "I'm going to the front to ask for our luggage," she said. "You stay here and look some more. I'll be right back."
"Why don't I—" he began, but he stopped speaking when he noticed she was no longer in the room.
He half-heartedly tried another Summoning Charm and even got down on his hands and knees to check under the bed, which was unfortunately the position he was in when his wife returned, the hotel manager in tow. Embarrassed, he rose to his feet and brushed off the knees of his trousers.
"Mr Potter, your wife tells me that you can not find your luggage. I have a record here that says it was deposited in this room promptly at half past ten this morning." The manager showed the couple a parchment with a list of timestamps and charms, tracking their luggage from when it arrived at the hotel on the day before, the time it spent in the holding area, and the Banishing Charm that sent it to the room. She waved her wand, and an imprint of their luggage appeared outside the wardrobe, along with a time, stating it had arrived at precisely thirty-minutes past ten o'clock.
Frustrated, Harry said, "That's fine. It was here then. But it's not here now, and I'd like to know what happened to it. We're paying a significant amount of Galleons to stay here, and I can promise you, this is not leaving me with a good first impression."
The manager's face fell. "Of course, Mr Potter. I have our best employees searching for your luggage as we speak, and we will, of course, compensate you for your trouble. We'll let you know what we've found as soon as possible."
After she left with a promise of free room service for the duration of their stay, Harry sank to the bed, and Ginny followed suit beside him. He hated the look of disappointment on her face, and, after thinking for a few moments, he resolved to replace it with a look of happiness and satisfaction.
"Come on," he said as he stood up and grabbed Ginny's hand. "Let's go shopping."
"No, look. It's a good idea," he said hurriedly. "We'll go out and get what we need. If they find our luggage, great. But if not, we won't have to stay in these clothes for the entire week."
She grinned and looked at him, her gaze predatory. "Who says we'll need clothes?" she asked, running her hand up his back to tangle in his hair. She pulled him closer for a searing kiss, and all plans of shopping flew out of Harry's head.
Some time later, the newlyweds left the bungalow hand in hand and made their way to the shopping district. The sights and sounds were almost overwhelming, and Harry found his head turning left and right as he tried to take everything in. He dragged Ginny into boutique after boutique, watching as she replaced her clothes and personal items, and then she did the same for him.
They were headed back to the bungalow when a display in a small, seedy-looking shop caught his eye. There were two small travelling trunks, and a not-so-tastefully arranged collection of clothing.
Familiar looking clothing.
"GET A PIECE OF HARRY POTTER'S LUGGAGE!" the sign read in lurid, flashing lime-green letters. Underneath, in smaller print, it said, "Own articles of clothing actually worn by the Boy-Who-Lived and his new wife. Enquire inside."
He stared at the sign in disbelief. There was their luggage. Their clothes... his pants, for Merlin's sake! And Ginny's lingerie. And their toothbrushes!
He turned to Ginny to determine how she was feeling about the situation, only to notice that she was no longer standing next to him. Instead, she was stalking towards the shop, her long red hair trailing behind her, hands clenched at her side, anger evident in her step.
He hurried after her and caught up with her just as she opened the door, following her inside as she strode to the counter.
"How may I help you, miss?" the man at the till asked obsequiously.
"That luggage in the window, the stuff you claim belongs to Harry Potter," Ginny began, her voice clipped, "where did you get it?"
The man's eyes narrowed, and he dropped the fawning attitude. "Why do you care?"
"Because," Ginny responded coldly, eyes flaring, "it's mine." Harry was torn between being glad that Ginny had never been that angry with him and amused at the beads of sweat that had broken out over the slimy man's forehead. Ginny, when she was angry, was a force to be reckoned with.
Still, he had to admire the man's courage — or his stupidity, Harry wasn't certain which — when he said, "Prove it."
Ginny's wand was out and pointing between the man's eyes before Harry could blink. "Look, you slimy excuse of a human being, I don't know who the hell you think you are, but you have our things in your shop window. I expect you to go over there right now, pack it up and give it to us."
"And what if I don't? You'll be causing me the loss of a lot of Galleons, taking those things."
Harry shook his head in disbelief. Had the brains of a flobberworm, this bloke.
Harry watched as Ginny's wand dropped slowly from between the clerk's eyes to point at a more... valuable part of his anatomy. "Do you really want to know what I'll do?"
The clerk gulped, and Harry decided it was time to step in. "Wait, love," he said. "We don't want to ruin our time here with all the paperwork we'll have to fill in if you hex him. Let's go report him to the local law enforcement. They can take care of him without ruining our holiday."
"No, wait," the clerk said, clearly panicking at the thought of law enforcement becoming involved. "I'll get to it right now."
He hurried over to the window and waved his wand, causing the articles to fold and pack themselves neatly in the trunks. He handed them over to their proper owners and watched as they started to leave the shop.
"This is everything?" Harry asked.
"You're certain? Because I wouldn't want to be you if my wife finds out that something is missing."
The man blinked.
"I—I think so. I'll look again, just to make certain."
"You do that," Ginny said, her voice cool.
They opened the door, ready to leave, when they heard the clerk call out, "Wait! How do I know you won't report me?"
Harry glanced back at the man as he ushered Ginny out. "You don't," he said. He felt a rush of satisfaction as he watched the man's face pale.
Ginny was fuming as they left the shop. "How dare they invade our privacy like that? Who do they think they are?"
He took her hand in an attempt to calm her down, but she shook it off, still obviously angry. "What I want to know," he said thoughtfully as he captured her hand again, giving it a quick squeeze, "is how he managed to get hold of our things in the first place. The hotel boasts of their strict security measures and how much they respect their patrons' privacy. That's why I chose it over the rest."
"Some security," Ginny muttered. "Someone took our things right out of our room and sold them!"
"Yes, well, I don't want to worry about it anymore. We'll talk to the manager and report the theft. For now, I want to enjoy my honeymoon with my wife. My very beautiful wife."
"You should've let me hex him," Ginny grumbled, but her expression brightened at his compliment, and Harry knew that he'd managed to diffuse the situation.
"Probably, but we're in a foreign country, and I really didn't want you to land yourself in prison. Sometimes discretion is the better part of valour." He pulled her closer and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. "Besides," he added, winking, "I have plans for you. Come on. Let's go swimming."
Much later that evening, the couple sat on a blanket on the beach. Harry's head was in Ginny's lap, and he sighed as she ran her fingers through his hair. The stars were bright in the night sky, and the not-quite-full moon reflected off the water, lending a glow to their surroundings. He didn't think he'd ever been this content.
"Knut for your thoughts," Ginny said as the fingers of her left hand traced patterns across his bare chest. The moonlight glinted off the stones in Ginny's wedding band, and Harry caught her hand in his, bringing it to his lips in a gentle kiss.
"I don't know what I did to deserve you," he said huskily. "But whatever it was, I'm so glad I did it."
"Yeah?" Ginny asked as she leaned down to kiss him. He raised his head to meet her halfway, wrapping his arm around her neck and pulling her as close as he could in the position he was in. The kiss, tender and gentle at first, deepened, as the sound of the ocean's waves echoed in the background.
"Yeah," he said, when they'd ended the kiss, and he let his head flop back down on her lap. "I'm the luckiest bloke in the world."
"Hmmm. If you say so," Ginny replied.
"Oh, definitely, I say so." He rolled over slowly and stood, pulling her up to stand beside him, giving her a passionate kiss before he started walking, tugging her hand so she followed him.
"Where are we going?" she asked, her expression bemused.
He gave her a cocky grin. "I told you I felt lucky."
~End Part I~
A/N: Many, many thanks to both Anka and OHGinnyfan for their amazing betaing, comments, and help with plot development.
And even more thanks to my flist at LJ, who helped me think of ways to torture our favourite couple while they were honeymooning.