Part: ...Will Have To Take Me Home
Rating: Everyone
Status: Completed
Words: 1,599
Updated: December 20, 2004, 4:07pm
...Will Have To Take Me Home
Okay, as so many people wanted to know what Ginny's gift was, here is
the sequel to "Whoever It Was Who Brought Me Here..." It is probably
advisable to read that first. :)
As ever, many thanks to Allie for her beta skills.
~*~
"Actually... I tell you what, love, why don't you get yourself in there."
He
nods his head toward the inn across the street and starts to push you
in that direction. "Get yourself warmed up and I'll run ahead and get
your brother's gift. It shouldn't take me more than half an hour or
so." Then, with a wicked grin, he presses some money into your gloved
hand, leans in and kisses your cheek, which tingles slightly when his
warm lips leave it. As you bring up your hand to touch the spot where
his lips had been, he continues speaking,"You might even have decided
what you want to eat by then..."
The git! Now you know what
that grin was all about. He will pay for that... In as many varied and
painful ways as you can think of. Before you can respond, however, he
pushes you through the door, ignoring your threats and complaints.
You discreetly return your wand to your pocket as the heavy inn door closes in his face with a satisfying whoomph!
You will extract proper revenge later, but for now, you turn round with a smug smile on your face.
Your
thirst encourages you over to the bar. Your taste buds are hoping that
Cara has made some of her almost sinfully wicked mulled wine. It will
be just the thing to banish the cold from your bones.
You're
in luck, as Rupert informs you that a new batch should be ready in a
few minutes. You pay for your drink and at the same time buy Old Matt -
one of the regulars (and someone who always seems to be in here,
whatever time you arrive) - a measure of his favourite tipple before
heading over to a spot at the rear of the room, by the roaring fire you
like so much.
You position yourself so he can spot you, when he eventually returns from whatever the heck he is doing, because, he is up to something, that much is for sure.
For
now, though, you rummage round in your bag, and pull out a well-worn
book; you've read it more times than you care to remember, but for some
reason whenever you have nothing new to read, you end up removing this
one from the shelves.
You are about to settle back in to your
chair and dip into a couple of chapters, when Cara walks over with a
glass of your favourite winter drink: a light haze of steam reveals
that it has come straight from the stove and will be nicely piping hot.
She
sits down opposite you with a smile, and proceeds to fill you in on the
latest gossip, including how she is getting on with Rupert - a
chemistry that has been bubbling under the surface for months now, ever
since she started work there last March.
Knowing that whilst
Cara is in this mood, you're not likely to get any reading done, you
put the book down and laugh out loud at one of her anecdotes. You're
glad of the chance to speak to her anyway. She's just the person to
know where to get that final gift for Harry. If he behaves himself, of
course.
Even better than giving you ideas of where to shop,
she offers to get it for you when she goes shopping later on that week.
She will drop it in at your home, whilst your husband is at a
late night Quidditch game with Ron (she of course thinks they are off
to watch football). You finish work that afternoon, so plans are made
for a girls' night in, and agree to invite Hermione over when you speak
to her next.
Cara is called back to assist Rupert at the bar.
You have been talking with her long enough for your drink to have gone
cold. That is soon fixed with a discreet warming charm and the
concoction soon flows over your tongue, its warmth spreads itself
pleasantly through your body; combined with the fire, you are now warm
enough to remove your thick wool coat.
You have just finished folding it neatly and placing it on the chair next to you when the inn's door opens.
As
he steps into the room, he pauses to remove his glasses, using the end
of his scarf to wipe them clean; as he does this his face scrunches up
adoringly as he struggles to focus.
You continue to watch as
he sheds his coat and scarf, hanging them on the rack by the door, his
eyes darting around the room to try and spot you.
When he
finds you, his face lights up. He can't be allowed to think that you've
let him off the hook however, so you try not to return the gesture.
Unfortunately, something about that smile melts your resolve, and you
find yourself grinning back.
As he takes his seat, he kisses
you lightly on the lips. Normally when he pulls away, you feel slightly
deprived and want him to kiss you again, but his pathetic attempt at
innocence piques your interest - just what has he been up to? Despite
your best efforts though, you are unable to get any information out of
him.
When he tries to change the subject, you shoot him your best look and threaten him with a whole range of hexes. His reaction to this delights you and you react in an appropriate manner.
You
lean over the table, your eyes locked onto his. As your lips touch,
your tongue lightly presses against his lips, he opens them slightly to
allow you access; as you deepen the kiss, his hand snakes round your
face and intermingles with your hair. You gasp slightly, as he takes
control and deepens the kiss even further. You are just thinking that
it was a good idea to pick this table, as the privacy it offers means
the inn's other patrons have no idea what he is doing to your
composure, when he breaks off the kiss. He doesn't move far though, and
what he says to you, as he rests his forehead against yours, makes you
want to forget about eating and go home.
As you both sit back, you look over his glass, and meet a pair of smouldering green eyes looking straight at you.
In a slightly breathless voice, you tell him to take you home.
"But, Mrs Potter, I'm still hungry," he replies.
You lean in and whisper in his ear, "I know." However, you both know you're not talking about food anymore.
~*~
On
Christmas morning, you wake before dawn, a habit you have had for as
long as you can remember, not a habit that your husband ever has
learnt, much to your annoyance.
Sleeping in on Christmas
morning is just something you can't understand. Why sleep in when there
are presents under the tree, to be opened downstairs?
It is with this in mind, that you elbow him, slightly harder than necessary.
"Umtph!"
He looks up at you slightly disgruntled, "What's wrong with the normal way you wake me up?"
You just pout at him and push him out of the bed, throw his dressing gown at him and stomp past as you leave the room.
He
eventually makes his way downstairs and joins you to sit on the floor,
and with a flick of his wand the flames are dancing merrily in your old
stone fireplace.
Leaning into him, you settle back against the
couch and wish him a Happy Christmas, in a more befitting manner than
kicking him out of the bed.
When you eventually part, you drag
him over to the tree, where your presents are piled. As you lean in to
pull the first colourful parcel from under the branches, you inhale
deeply and its pine scent fills your senses. It's not Christmas without
that smell and you always insist on a real tree each year.
Thirty
minutes later and all that are left are two presents: your ones to each
other. As he passes his gift over, there is a slight hitch in his voice
as he wishes you a Happy Christmas. You peel back the paper carefully,
grinning as the snowmen dance with each other. Inside is a plain brown
box that betrays nothing of its contents; you slowly lift the lid and
your breath catches - how did he know? It's absolutely beautiful; you
didn't think he had even noticed you looking at it, during your
shopping trip last week.
You can hardly breathe, never mind
speak, as you thank him. Then you pass over his gift from you. When his
face lights up, you know you chose perfectly.
He wordlessly
pulls you to your feet, pulling you in close and holds you silently for
a moment. You are both breathing deeply. Then he surprises you by
beginning to move round the room in a silent dance. Nothing needs to be
said as you hold each other, you cannot think of a better way to spend
this Christmas Morn.
A/N: Well I tried, but what Harry and
Ginny bought each other remains a secret, and even when I asked nicely
they still weren't telling.
Hope you all have a Happy Christmas and an even better New Year!
