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Author: Kathryn Story: Beyond the Proposal Rating: Teens Setting: Post-DH Status: Completed Reviews: 11 Words: 26,721
Disclaimer: All characters, places, spells and objects that are in JKR’s books are hers. I do not own them. I am just having fun playing in her sandbox for a while.
He had just received Harry’s stag Patronus asking him to come and discharge him after being on the wrong end of a hex while out doing some field work. Although his best friend spoke little about his work, he was very professional in that aspect, after Ron had left the department last year to go to work with George, he had picked up little bits. From what he could tell, Harry was coming close to catching the elusive Rodolphus Lestrange, who had been on the run since the Battle of Hogwarts, which was taking him into increasingly dangerous booby-trapped places. He had entered the pristine hospital ward just in time to see Harry arguing with the young Healer in charge that he should just be able to discharge himself, since he was rather busy at the moment, and since there was nothing wrong, he did not have time to lie in a hospital bed. It was a Healer who both Harry and Ron had met many times before and, rather than helping Harry’s case, it seemed to be working against him. Finally, a good five minutes after Ron had entered the ward, the Healer seemed to give in on the argument, shaking his head before heading back to his desk at the end of the ward. He buried himself in the paperwork that sat as small mountains in three trays. No wonder the Healer was not responding well to Harry's arguments; he looked as if he had enough on his plate without getting into heated discussions with his patients. Ron wasn’t surprised about Harry either. His best mate was hardly known for his patience when it came to sitting back and letting others do what he saw as his job. As soon as the spells had been cast to cure the injuries that he picked up, he wanted to be back up and back to the fight. Some things about Harry just never changed and they never would. Still, it was always amusing to see him forced to lie in bed; it was so much against his nature, especially at the moment. Harry had enough things to get done this week without trips to the wizarding hospital. Ron made his way up the ward and grinned. It was just the other night that both Harry and Ginny had assured his mother that nothing was going to happen before the wedding. They insisted that they would not give up their ‘dangerous’ careers before the wedding, nor would they be doing so afterward. They had even made several promises to Molly Weasley that nothing would happen to them so she had no need to worry. “Ginny is going to kill you, you know,” he said, fighting to hold back the laughter. “She hates being wrong when it comes to arguments, wspecially when it’s an argument with Mum, and it looks like she just lost this one.” “No, she’s not.” Harry sounded fairly confident. Too confident. He hated it when Harry sounded that confident. It normally meant that he was right and Ron was wrong but still, the odds surely had to stack in his favour today. Harry was in the hospital bed and he was on the other side of it. Surely he had a little more going for him this time. “You’re in St Mungo’s four days before the wedding. You promised Mum you’d be just fine. Ginny even laughed it off and now she’s been proved wrong,” Ron continued, struggling to keep his face straight. It was hard not to find this amusing. The Boy-Who-Lived was lying in a hospital bed. The hero of the wizarding world who was scared of both his mum and sister. “She’s going to string you from the ceiling.” “She won’t.” Harry smiled. “Not after I kept her black eye from Saturday’s match a secret so your Mum wouldn’t blow at her.” “How did Ginny get a black eye?” Ron asked, distracted for a moment. Harry’s grin grew and he even let out a small laugh. “I think it had something to do with hanging upside down to catch a Quaffle a hundred feet in the air with a Bludger coming in the opposite direction. Luckily, the photo next morning showed her fingers and not her face. Otherwise, it would be her strung from the ceiling of The Burrow. Not that your Mum didn’t nearly string her up over the fingers.” Ron echoed Harry’s laugh, and it filled the quiet, still, white hospital ward. Barely into her second season as a professional Quidditch player, Ginny had already picked up multiple injuries due to her uncompromising style of play. Her work effort, persistence and bravery was second to none, even when she had been struggling to adapt in the first few games from the school game to the professional game. She insisted on being involved in every move and threw herself into any tackle on the pitch, leading to her talent starting to shine through with the more time she spent on the Quaffle. Now that she was starting to make a name for herself and was on the verge of earning international recognition, she was being targeted by many more Bludgers. It was a wonder she did not finish each game black and blue. No wonder Harry wasn’t worried about Ginny seeing him in St. Mungo’s. Ginny had had her fair share of injuries. The pair of them had been in and out of hospital enough times to warrant their own private wing, in the last year. It was rare for a couple of weeks to go by without one of them making a trip down to St. Mungo’s. In fact, Harry had actually proposed to her after she was lying in a bed at St Mungo’s after a Bludger to the head, a fact that had amused everyone in the family, except his mother, for a long time after. They were still known to make jokes that that was the only reason that Ginny had said yes, because of her blow to the head. However, it did beg the question that if Harry was not worried over Ginny’s reaction, then why had he not sent his Patronus to her? He must be at least a little scared of that Weasley temper. It always amused him that Harry, the man who had defeated He Who Must Not Be Named, was scared of the women in his family. He would back Harry in a fight or an argument against anyone else, but he had seen Harry hide countless times from his mum, which was probably the sane approach knowing Molly Weasley’s temper and Ginny, also, always seemed to get her way with Harry, just like as all Prewett women had for generations. And with good reason. Along with brown eyes and red hair, Ginny had very much inherited her mother’s temper. Although he was not sure how much Ginny getting her way was completely down to her temper. He had witnessed many of Ginny’s underhanded tactics in family Quidditch games and those tactics were far from the unleashing of a temper, either. Harry rarely ended up with a wand on him, so Ginny could get her way, unlike the rest of them, by using very unorthodox methods. Harry did normally end up with a rather smug grin after these tactics had been used, though. He shook his head slightly. Even years after accepting his best friend and his little sister as a couple, there were still several details about their relationship he was very happy never to hear about. He didn’t want to know in the slightest what caused Harry to smile like that, as he was sure that he would have to Scourgify his eyes and perform a Memory Charm if he did. It had to be the Weasley temper and nothing else that caused Ginny to get her way. He guessed he was lucky that Hermione’s parents were very passive Muggle dentists, who rarely raised their voices, let alone get caught up in family shouting rows. Not that Hermione needed any Weasley help at times. “Harry!” Ginny burst through the door. Ginny, still looking very windswept, and dressed in her mud splattered training gear — black-studded trainers, green knee-length socks and shorts, and green and yellow jacket with Weasley, 4, and the Holyhead Harpies badge on it — had sprinted down the ward. She had obviously come straight away without even taking time to get changed as the footprints on the floor showed — footprints that made the Healer frown. No doubt he thought that the young woman that had just entered his ward was going to, and already had added to the list of jobs that he had to do. She rushed over to Harry’s side and stared straight at him, looking into his eyes. Ron had discovered ages ago that it was fairly unnerving to watch them looking at each other. Both Harry and Ginny had no problem looking into each other’s eyes and could stare like that for hours, communicating that way with daunting honesty. Many would see it as brave to let someone else in like that, but then not many people had been through half as much as they had. They were much older than most people in some ways, even if not in age. Ron guessed that they had been through so much that words were unnecessary at times. They really were meant for each other, even if had taken him a while and a lot of growing up to accept it. He thought it was just plain weird to see his little sister getting together with his best mate. He had been forced to admit that Ginny wasn’t really that little anymore and Harry was a pretty decent bloke, so he guessed he couldn’t really ask for more. If Ginny had to marry someone, he guessed he was pretty lucky it was Harry. It helped, too, that the two of them really seemed to be so well suited. Ginny was one of the few people, maybe actually the only person, who could pull Harry out of his noble crusades, and match his temper. She was exactly what he needed; he was much less likely to be a noble prat around her and, as he had seen after Fred’s death, Harry was one of the few people who could do the same for her. Ginny had gone into a deep mourning period after Fred’s death, with no one seeming able to get through to her as she worked herself to near exhaustion. Many long chats with Harry had eventually put a stop to that. No one knew what was said, neither Harry nor Ginny ever spoke of it, it was too private for words, but the whole family was grateful. They couldn’t have borne to have lost her too. Like it or not, they really were equals. They were ready for the next step, ready to get married, despite what several of the recent publications had been saying in the wizarding world. Ginny bent down to the bed and placed a soft kiss on Harry lips and Ron was very grateful that Harry chose not to deepen it. There was only so much a brother could take, and Ginny frequently teased those boundaries, quite often when she was very aware that her brothers were watching and the decent thing would be to stop. “How are you?” Ginny asked in soft tones. “I’m fine, I promise,” he whispered as he smiled at her, “they reckon Ron’s okay to get me discharged.” Harry face always looked so different when he smiled at Ginny. His face would light up and he would look completely, truly happy, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. It was a feeling that Harry so rarely enjoyed; with his unwavering desire to recapture all the escaped Death Eaters, he was more often in the grim determination mood. Yet when he spent time with Ginny, no matter what else was happening, Harry just looked purely and simply happy. Ron smiled to himself as well. How could he begrudge a relationship that did that to his best mate? “Good, I’m glad you’re going to be okay,” Ginny said softly, before swatting him on his arm and hitting him again before then speaking in a louder voice, “You git!” Ron’s grin grew and he let Harry see it. He knew his sister only too well and knew that once she knew that he was okay she would show her temper. Ginny was so much like their mum at times it was scary, although no one was daring to make that comment to her at the moment, given the source of most of Ginny’s temper explosions at the moment. Though no one could really blame her for that, not if they were sane anyway, the level of detail their mum insisted on was enough to drive anyone crazy. “Told you,” he mouthed to Ron. “How could you land in here? Mum’s going to give me no end of grief about this,” she let out a frustrated sigh, “since no doubt this will be my fault!” “Ginny…” Harry started. “No ‘Ginnying’,” she cut him off and Ron let out a small laugh as he saw his sister’s passionate temper start to rise. No doubt Harry wouldn’t be in any real trouble, but it was always amusing to see someone else on the other side of her temper, “RON!” Ginny had spun round and this time she had her wand out. Why was it, whenever Ginny was angry or annoyed with Harry, she never got her wand out unless she was really really angry, but with the rest of them she had no problem reaching for her wand? She had no problem at all in hexing one of her brothers over much less. “Ginny,” Harry stopped her going any further and yet again Ron was grateful to him; Harry was one of the few people who could stop Ginny once that temper had started to rise. “Imagine your mum’s reaction if you put the best man in here; she’s already determined that you’re sabotaging your own wedding.” “I’m not…” Ginny started before stopping abruptly. “Bugger!” “What?” the pair of them asked, equally confused at what had cut her off in mid flow. “I had the final fitting today; it was supposed to start ten minutes ago but I forgot all about it when I got George’s Patronus,” she groaned. “Never mind you, she’s going to kill me. After all, I’m the one corrupting her golden boy and can’t even do what’s needed to give him a decent wedding. Bugger! Bugger! Bugger!” Harry laughed. “Do I get a final kiss to remember you by, then?” Ginny grinned at Harry and Ron noticed that there was a familiar hint of mischief mixed in with the amber in her brown eyes. He had grown to hate that look on her. It never meant anything good for him, especially if she sent him one of those sweet innocent smiles she adopted or was sitting with George. He hated that look even more when she was near Harry; the consequences of the look were always much, much worse. She leaned in and kissed Harry and less than seconds after it had started Ron knew this was not going to be a simple kiss. This was going to be one of their more passionate ones, a kiss that, in his opinion, should be reserved for private moments and not done in public — especially when he was nearby. Ron made several loud gagging noises that he was only partly putting on. He really did not want to see this kiss develop into much more. At first Ginny just flipped him the rods while keeping the kiss going, but as he continued, slowly they broke apart, both glaring at him. He smiled, despite the fact that Ginny was now reaching for her wand. He had got the desired outcome and knew just the thing to stop them kissing. Not that that was always a wise choice when both Harry and Ginny were so skilled with their wands. However, today was different, he had the advantage and knew just the thing to keep him from ending up in the bed next to Harry. Yes, he was actually quite happy with the outcome of that kiss. “Ron,” she growled. Harry smiled and shrugged his shoulders; he was clearly not going to help Ron out here. “I think you’ve asked for this one, mate.” “Ginny, Mum...” Ron told her with a grin, and Ginny’s wand started to lower, “…wedding dress fitting?” “Damn it,” she muttered. “You’ll wait,” she said, before turning to Harry. “I’ll see you tonight, if I survive.” Ron smiled at Harry as his sister rushed out the hospital ward. Ginny must have been distracted if she had not offered any form of a threat and Ron quite understood that, too. He knew only too well that you did not go up against their mother unless you had good reason. It was shown quite clearly by the fact that none of them missed Sunday dinners at The Burrow or was even late to them unless they had a very good excuse. “You ready to get out of here, mate?” Ron finally asked. “Always.” “And since you don’t need to go back to work, I mean, you have been to hospital, so I think you get the day off for that,” Ron grinned and suggested, “how about a couple at the Leaky Cauldron?” “Sounds like a good idea.” Ron’s grin grew slightly as he Accioed the release papers and started filling them in. “And you can tell me why I still got the call instead of Ginny.” “Oh, that’s easy to answer. Ginny has enough on her plate at the moment.” Harry grinned at him and continued, “She’s going spare as it is with everything else, I didn’t want to risk her real temper exploding.” “Well, it takes a brave, or at least a slightly insane, man to take her on,” Ron laughed, “and I’ve always said you’re mad for wanting to marry her.”
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