Chapter Text
“Maybe we should just stick together if we’re going to keep running into one another,” Ginny suggested as they raved about the rollercoaster, somehow not separating.
Harry would’ve said it first, but he’d feared he’d sound pathetic.
“Besides, we have a better chance at the treasure hunt then,” he agreed.
Her eyes lit up and Harry’s breath was taken away. “The treasure hunt! I almost forgot about that.”
“With how competitive you are, that’s a shock,” he snorted.
Her brows furrowed. “How would you know if I was competitive or not?”
“Ron’s told me quite a bit about his best woman,” Harry shrugged.
She huffed. “Hermione’s told me absolutely nothing about her Man of Honour.”
“Ouch. I’ll have to have a word with her.”
“Can anyone get a word in edgewise with her?” she wondered, and held her hands up at Harry’s narrow eyes. “I don’t mean that as an insult, really. She’s just … kind of opinionated.”
“That she is,” he said comfortably. “But I grew up with her.”
“I grew up with my brothers, and I know how to handle them,” she commented, nodding her head.
“Not sure I like the sound of ‘handle’.”
“Not your handler, Potter.”
“I thought you were a quidditch player, not a handler?”
“Are we doing the bloody treasure hunt or not?” she huffed.
He suppressed a laugh into a cough at her glare, and then grabbed her hand without thought.
What the hell was he doing??
But before he could withdraw, her own closed over his.
She was blushing lightly, but looking straight ahead.
Harry’s heart soared.
They made their way to the counter at the entrance of the theme park, all the while commenting on the rides they had missed or wanted to go on again.
They raced part of the way, which he would’ve liked more had he not had to let go of her hand.
And if he’d won.
“I’m a professional athlete,” she told him smugly.
“I’m an Auror,” he grumbled. “I’m supposed to be fit.”
“Trust me, you very much are,” she muttered under her breath, and then looked absolutely horrified.
“Thanks, you’re fit too,” he winked at her.
She blushed crimson, even her ears going red. He stared, riveted.
He hadn’t taken her for a shy person.
Did that mean he was the only one to have this effect on her?
He was getting ahead of himself here.
“We’re here for the engagement party. Granger-Weasley?” he inquired from the attendant.
“Of course. Here is your first clue: You see her in the school hospital as well as others of her kind, and in the red on veterans.”
“Vets?” Harry repeated, brows furrowing. “Military colours?”
The person just smiled mysteriously—slightly forced, clearly they weren’t enjoying their role in this game—and disappeared.
“Only muggles have armies. How do you know about the military?” Ginny asked curiously.
“My mum and best friend are muggleborns,” he replied. “We have hit wizards, though. They’re basically an army.”
“I guess,” she said thoughtfully. “I don’t know much about the hit wizards.”
“They’re like the police and army and special agencies combined,” he tried to explain.
“We’re getting side-tracked!” she explained.
“Right. School hospital. . . And others of her kind. . .”
“Our matron was Madam Pomfrey,” Ginny commented.
“Poppies! That’s it!” He snapped his fingers excitedly.
“What?” she asked, bewildered.
“Her name is Poppy Pomfrey. A flower, that is used to symbolize remembrance on Veterans’ Day. That’s what Hermione meant. Merlin, what a riddle.”
“How is anyone supposed to figure that out?” Ginny rolled her eyes. “How did you know her first name?”
“My family gets in a lot of trouble,” he said unabashedly, remembering his recent visit to Lissy in the hospital wing.
“Not more than mine, I’d bet,” she challenged.
“Oh yeah? We’ll see.”
And again, they got entirely sidetracked discussing the various kinds of antics their families got up to. Ginny was in awe of his father and his mates, while Harry was shaking his head at Fred and George.
“You shouldn’t be surprised, you’re an investor in their shop,” she told him.
“How was I supposed to know this was a propensity in them long nurtured?”
“You sound like you’re trying to set another riddle,” she snorted. “Damn it! The treasure hunt!”
Harry cursed. They were going to be so late to the party.
But it was just so incredibly easy to talk to Ginny, to get lost in conversation with her and in her molten chocolate eyes.
And he thought he never wanted to find his way back.
Okay. That was unbearably sappy.
“Which ride could have something to do with poppies?” he questioned out loud in order to avoid those thoughts.
“The children’s carousel! The one with different flowers as seats for the princesses,” Ginny literally jumped up and down.
She was fucking adorable.
“Let’s go, then,” he urged.
And this time she was the one to take his hand.
He resisted the need to crow with triumph.
Eventually, after a lot of detours, they made their way to the mirror maze.
“Finally!” Hermione said exasperatedly, hugging him. “I thought you’d be faster than this!”
He grinned sheepishly. “Got distracted.”
She hummed. “I see you met Ginny. What do you think of her?”
The most perfect person I’ve ever met.
“She’s, uh, great. Why?”
“Just great?” Hermione pried.
Was he about to be set up?
Should he tell his friend there was no point in that, that he was already halfway in love?
Nah.
Instead he plucked a glass from one of the trays and started drinking.
It was probably that decision that led to him waking up in an unfamiliar place, hungover and discombobulated.
And with Ginny lying next to him, breathing deeply, hair spread over the pillow, hand on her chest.
A hand with a very noticeable something on one of the fingers.
So he supposed it was all well worth it.
He did so just a little hysterically.
Because why were they wearing wedding rings?