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She was early for her appointment with the seamstress for her very first professional Quidditch kit so she wandered around Diagon Alley, enjoying the holiday decorations with its twinkling lights and promise of warm, hearty food behind the door of half the establishments. She may have to stop by the Red Cap Café on her way home for a steaming cup of hot chocolate.
She checked the time and she had just a few minutes left. She halted by the window of the store, the Potter Quidditch Emporium, and admired the Christmas display—admired was a big word, considering she saw several things wrong with it within seconds.
From afar it was a cheery Christmas collection. A Christmas tree to the side, a broom posed like a sledge in the middle of it and two posters with generic-looking Quidditch players, a man in green and a woman in red.
“Not a fan of Christmas?” a man asked that had walked up beside her. He was tall and had dark hair with glasses framing green eyes.
“I love Christmas,” she insisted, “but this”—she gestured vaguely at the display—“is not just uninspired, it’s insulting.”
He looked intrigued. “Insulting? That’s a strong feeling.”
“Well, yeah! If only the shop owner had a strong feeling about it and we wouldn’t have to look at this.” Now she was on a roll, and he still looked at her with his full attention, so she continued. “This tree has already started to lose a ton of needles. A needle-holding spell is the first thing anyone does when you get a tree-in fact if you buy from a magical farm, it’s almost always already applied.” She pointed to the left. “There is nothing on this side. It’s so easy to fill things up with a bit of greenery and a few baubles or a scarf… something.”
“Huh,” he went. “I suppose you’re right.”
She smiled at him, happy to be conspiring with this stranger. “Now that’s uninspired but the truly heinous crime are those two AI-generated posters. Whoever thought wizards needed to get that ungodly muggle-creation onto parchment should be put on trial for their crimes.” She pointed at the man. “Do you think he’ll manage to stop the Quaffle with his fifteen fingers? Where does that broom end?” She pointed at the woman. “There are two suns and I am pretty sure whoever created it asked for a ‘voluptuous’ quidditch player. No one’s flying with that much cleavage, it’s a safety hazard!”
The man beside her snorted and she grinned at him.
“Honestly, I wouldn’t go in here if I didn’t have an appointment.” She nodded at him. “But I do, and I believe it’s time for me to go in. Don’t stare at that too long.” She gestured towards the display again. “It’ll ruin Christmas.”
She walked through the door of the Potter Quidditch Emporium. The inside of the building looked luxurious, with lovely desks and counters of oak and lit by hundreds of flickering candles up on the chandelier and reflected down by decorative mirrors on the high ceiling, which put the display even more to shame. It simply didn’t fit their standards.
She noticed the man from outside had followed her in and she looked at him warily. Before she could ask, he addressed the woman at the desk. She had curly hair and a measurement tape hung around her neck. In her apron were an array of sewing supplies.
“Margaret, this is your 1 pm appointment I believe. Do your best work, please. Miss Weasley is the most promising new starter for the upcoming season.”
Margaret smiled in greeting. “Naturally, Mr Potter.”
She felt her head turn as red as a tomato as she looked at him in shock. Did she just decimate their display to the owner himself? “Oh no, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—!”
He shook his head, his gaze calm and gestured towards Margaret, who had come from behind the counter. “Margaret will take great care of you.”
She had no words of defence so she walked up to Margaret.
“Come on, dear,” Margaret said, leading her down the corridor on the left. “Just through here.”
Not only had she brutally slandered their window display, in turn he had complimented her without even a sliver of distress. She had her ears pricked as she followed Margaret.
Mr Potter addressed the other person behind the front desk. “Could you ask Cormac to come into my office. It’s urgent.”
Ginny walked through the door of the fitting room and Margaret closed it. It was a cosy carpeted room with large mirrors on one side and curtained cubicles on the other. On a desk were more supplies and samples of fabrics.
“Harpies, was it?” Margaret asked.
Ginny nodded, still too mortified to form a complete sentence.
Margaret instructed her to shed her outer layers and then the measurements started. The measuring tape swished around her and then reported back to Margaret. She argued with the tape quietly, erasing a measurement it had put down and ordering it to measure again.
“Fickle thing some days,” Margaret explained casually. “Super advanced magic but never designed to account for a woman’s curves.”
Ginny chuckled. “What else is new?”
“Indeed.”
She relaxed a little, after all Margaret had no clue what absolute blunder she had committed. They chatted about whether she preferred a tighter fit or a looser and if she had any issues with previous kits in terms of wear and tear.
When it was done, Margaret sent the measurements off to the front desk with a swish of her wand and Ginny could put her layers back on.
She had just put her shoes back on when there was a knock on the door. Margaret checked if Ginny was dressed before she opened the door.
“Yes?”
“If you’d like to take your lunch now, you can,” Mr Potter said at the door, hidden from view for Ginny. “I can take Miss Weasley to the shop for the accessories.”
“If you don’t mind,” Margaret said.
Mr Potter smiled. “Then I wouldn’t have suggested it.”
Margaret bade her goodbye and the door opened further to reveal Mr Potter. Margaret walked down the corridor. Ginny mentally cursed her stupid mouth as she looked at Mr Potter.
“Are you ready to go look at the accessories for your kit?” he asked, no sign of offense or anger on his face.
Ginny was sure it was the calm before the storm. She had not pulled any punches earlier. “Yes,” she confirmed. She was ready in the physical sense. Mentally, she wanted to hide.
He walked with her down the corridor, past the front desk to the right of the building.
“I want to apologise—”
“I think we’ll start with the gloves first,” he told her. “Those are the most important.”
Interrupted, she lost steam. She nodded and he walked into the shop side. The Potter Quidditch Emporium was the most high-end store for Quidditch supplies, working with the majority of professional teams, and it showed. This wasn’t a shop where you could get your items off the rack. Most of them were bespoke or at the very least you would have to ask a shop assistant to retrieve certain items for you. They prided themselves in providing the best products and care.
The room was full of display cases—also in oak and topped with glass—showing examples of the types of gloves, glasses, shoes, protective padding and even hairbands. He walked to the display case housing the gloves.
“Since you’ll be a Chaser, I would recommend this mid-range in terms of leather suppleness. Dragonhide I would absolutely not recommend unless you go for a heavily treated Welsh leather, but it’s generally too thick unless you’re a Keeper.” He slid open the case. “Since you also seem to have an affinity with Seeking, I would actually go for a quite supple leather that gives you that extra dexterity. You can’t go wrong with cowhide, but horsehide is also an option. It does extremely well, it lasts long and repels water well, but it needs breaking in at the start. Both options would be full-grain obviously.” He took out three types of gloves and laid them out for her.
He had done his homework—he knew exactly what she had come in for. What was his angle? Unless someone had obliviated him in the past half hour, there was no reason for him not to remember what happened outside. Was he being nice just to spite her? Talking about some nonsense like ‘full-grain leather’ just to confuse her? If he wasn’t going to let her apologise and be spiteful, then she could be too.
“Go ahead and feel the leather, tell me what you like,” he suggested.
This part actually mattered because it would affect how she played. She reached out to them and felt the leather as Mr Potter watched on. What an odd kind of torture was this?
She ended up on settling for a grade 3 suppleness cowhide leather. The grade 3 suppleness was recommended by him and though she wasn’t sure if he was keen on sabotaging her, it did sound like a sensible option. She had always had low-quality, second-hand gloves before, so any glove from this store would be an improvement.
They moved onto the protective pads, which she also didn’t have much of an opinion on. There too, he explained the difference and she touched them, pretended to feel a difference and then decided on a sturdy but supple Welsh Green leather, where Mr Potter once again stated that it was full-grain leather of the highest quality. She just nodded.
He asked her if she wanted to look at the options for her hair and to spite him, she said yes. He offered her the options. Non-slip headbands, anti-matting hair ties… He listed them all.
“And that’s all part of the kit?” she asked.
Mr Potter nodded. “Yes. It’s a necessity so your team will cover it.”
“Great. I’ll take ten of the ties and five of the headbands in that case,” she confirmed, if it was paid for it was all the same to her.
He smiled at her. “I like how you think.”
She sincerely doubted that.
“Follow me,” he said politely.
She followed him to the counter at the back of the room. He had worn his cloak when he came from outside but now he was dressed in a well-tailored—obviously—button-down that was tucked into his trousers neatly and as she walked behind, she took notice of the sharp angle of his shoulders and how the muscles in his back moved as he walked.
He walked behind the counter and took up another measuring tape.
“Look, I am sorry for what I said by the window,” she rushed, keen not to be interrupted again. “I overstepped.”
He paused and met her eyes. “Never apologise for being honest.”
“I could have put it more delicately if I…” She chewed her lip. “It was too much.”
He raised his hands, palms up. “Let me measure your hands for the gloves.”
She laid her hand in his waiting one and he brought the tape around, noting down the circumference of her hand. Then his steady hand turned her hand sideways, measuring from her wrist to the tip of her longest finger.
“Interesting,” he mumbled under his breath while he noted it down.
“What?” she asked.
He looked up at her as though he had not realised he had said that out loud and a blush bloomed on his cheeks. “You have quite small hands for a Chaser.”
“I didn’t choose them.”
Mr Potter exhaled, embarrassment clear in his gaze. “Naturally. Does explain why Seeking comes easily to you.”
It occurred to her that perhaps he wasn’t trying to offend. “Oh,” she said. “It does help. Lays in my hand pretty well.”
“I can see that.” He put down the quill and smiled at her. “I think that completes the items for your kit.”
“Great.” Relief ran through her veins; she could go hide in shame for the remainder of the day.
“Are you in a rush?” he asked.
She wasn’t out of the woods yet. “I was going to treat myself on a hot chocolate at the Red Cap, so obviously I’m incredibly busy.”
He let out a small laugh before he caught himself. “I only wanted to talk about the window display.”
“I am sorry.”
He put the measuring tape back in the drawer. “I want your vision. You clearly have one.” He sighed softly. “I put our new associate up to this. It was his very first task and I had no idea he was going to fuck up this bad.”
Her eyes widened slightly as he said ‘fuck’. It stood in stark contrast with his demeanour on the whole and the polished interior. “Join me in the Red Cap and make it a business expense,” she joked.
He fixed her gaze on her. “That works for me.”
Oops. Fuck. Oh my god, why was he looking at her so intensely? And why did it make her stomach tumble excitedly?
“Splendid,” she confirmed with that blabbermouth of hers.
He nodded. “I will just get my cloak. I’ll meet you at the entrance.”
She walked towards the entrance and smiled awkwardly at the lady sitting at the front desk. A moment later, Mr Potter exited the room behind the front desk and addressed her.
“Silvia, I’ll be out for a bit—business meeting—if anyone is looking for me just let them leave a message,” he told her.
“Sure, Mr Potter,” Silvia said with a pointed look towards Ginny that made it evident she did not believe it was a business meeting but would humour him anyway. “Have a nice meeting.”
Mr Potter nodded and cleared his throat, making it up to Ginny and opened the door. “After you, Miss Weasley.”
“Please call me Ginny,” she said as she walked out onto the street.
The winter sun was shining down Diagon Alley, already lowering considerably.
He joined her and they headed towards the café. “Then please call me Harry.”
She looked at him in confusion.
“Pretty sure I’m called Harry,” he told her when he saw her expression. “My parents always call me that.”
She chuckled and he smiled too.
“I thought the owner of the store was called James,” she explained.
Harry nodded. “That’s because he is.”
Was he pulling her leg? Everyone inside called him Mr Potter, so surely…?
“James is my dad,” he explained. “I manage the store as my parents have chosen to take a sabbatical to have what they call their second ‘newlyweds’ phase now their kids are a little older.” He grimaced as he said it.
“Oh, that makes so much more sense!” she said in relief. At least some things were still making sense. “Good for them.”
“I suppose.”
Ginny pulled the charming red door open and stepped inside the cosy café. The smell of coffee, chocolate and cinnamon wrapped around her like warm blanket.
She walked to a table against the wall. They both hung up their cloaks on the hook nearby and sat down across from each other. She looked over the menu as if she hadn’t decided yet, but she just couldn’t handle that intrigued gaze of him for that long.
“You knew who I was before I went in,” she pointed out. “How…?”
“It’s my business to know,” he told her with a smile. “I follow the news of players closely and specifically for teams like the Harpies, I know you’ll show up in my books soon enough.”
Her cheeks heated up. “That’s impressive. You seem very dedicated to delivering a good service.”
He shrugged in an unconvinced manner. “Not precisely—I mean I do.”
“What?” she asked.
“I love Quidditch. I follow every result, I read the articles. I watch as many games at I can.” He smiled softly. “When your parents design everyone’s kit, you get the good seats every time. I grew up with it. I love it, and I love that I can use it to give people a good service.”
“What can I get you?” the waitress asked.
“The hot chocolate with whipped cream and the fizzy marshmallows, please,” she said, setting the menu down. She no longer could use it to avoid eye contact with the man across from her.
“Same for me,” Harry said.
The waitress took the two menus and walked towards the bar.
“So, if you are not actually upset about my… colourful description of your window display, why did you rattle on about quality leather and what kind of grain it has?” she asked. That couldn’t possibly be standard procedure to tell everyone that.
He looked at her for a long moment without saying anything. Their gazes locked in silence. She wanted to look away but she kept her eyes on him stubbornly.
“Oh,” he said after too long. “I wasn’t trying to torture you.” He chuckled and ran a hand through his hair.
Hello bicep.Ginny reprimanded herself mentally for ogling it—him.
“I felt like you didn’t have a good impression of our store after the awful display and the bloody AI. I was so embarrassed, it is sup-bar and it’s not at all what we stand for. I wanted to make sure you understood that we only work with the best quality material.”
“Between the oak and the marble, I would have figured it out,” she told him with a smile. “I thought the whole thing was unbecoming for a store like yours.”
“Yeah. No. I got that,” he said.
She knew she shouldn’t ask, but she wanted to know if it was Cormac who was in charge of the window display. “I don’t want to pry and have you speak badly of the employees, but was it Cormac who did the display? He’s the kind to ask for big-boobed female players.”
His eyes widened. “You know him?”
“Overconfident? Doesn’t do well with instructions?” she listed.
“You do know him!” Harry said. “Unfortunately, yes. He’s… some sort of apprentice I suppose, or was until an hour ago at least.”
Ginny nodded. “That makes sense. He wanted to go professional, but he simply wouldn’t listen to feedback—it would be unworkable. I was on the school team with him for a bit.”
The waitress returned with the hot chocolates, the marshmallows sizzling pleasantly as they began to sink into the whipped cream they rested on it. Harry paid for it, asking for a receipt to log it as a business expense—which made her smile.
She scooped a bit of the whipped cream with her spoon and tasted it. “Oh, so good.”
“Does it meet your standards?” he teased.
Her cheeks burned for the nth time since she laid eyes on this man. “It does. Thank you. So, what do you think I have to offer for your little Christmas scenery?”
“You seem to have a good grasp on what looks nice,” he offered, picking a marshmallow from the top of the whipped cream.
She thought he looked nice, but that was hardly helpful—shouldn’t put him in the window display after all.
“And you obviously know what Christmas is all about.”
She waved that comment away. “Christmas at home is about family, Christmas in a store is a separate thing.” She looked at him. “What is a Christmas window display for?”
“Spreading Christmas cheer?” he answered with a mild frown, raising the mug of hot chocolate and taking a careful sip.
“Wrong!” she said.
He set the mug down, looking more confused and there was a bit of whipped cream at the the tip of his nose. She wondered if she should tell him, wipe it away perhaps but his hand raised, wiping it away.
“Really? You seemed hard-pressed about it earlier,” he told her with a chuckle.
It was strange to see him more relaxed like this. It was like he was incapable of humour when he was within the walls of the store.
“People are chasing a concept of cosiness and friendliness during Christmas more than any other time of the year. You need to present them an ideal. Make them dream of being a Quidditch player.” She took a sip of her hot chocolate and he looked at her in wonder. She set it back down and continued. “As a toddler, I used to stand in front of that store, admiring things my parents could never afford. You know why?”
“Because you wanted to play Quidditch?” he replied honestly.
“There are more stores selling Quidditch supplies, Harry.” She shook her head. “All the professionals that had it looked like a dream. What’s your store known for?”
“Are you going to continue asking me questions and then telling me I’m wrong?” he asked her.
She chuckled. “I would love to—but no. You should know the answer to this one.”
“Fine,” he breathed out. He stared off into the distance for a bit. “High-quality Quidditch kits, custom-made.”
“Yes,” she said. “What else?”
“What else?” he responded. “Is there more?”
She took a sip from her hot chocolate while grinning at him, taking her sweet time. “You pride yourself on excellent customer service.”
“Do you know how to present that in a window display?” he joked.
“No. Also important is that you’re a family-owned businesses. You always have a headstart on Christmas for it. People love that type of legacy, especially when it comes with the level of quality you’re providing.”
He nodded. “Okay, I see your point.” He stirred his mug. “How does that translate into a display?
“You are going to take just a few pictures with a man and a woman in the Quidditch kit—actually one of them should be you—and that is going to be the backdrop to everything.” She took a napkin and placed it in the middle of the table. She took out her wand and started drawing. “One either side, in the middle: the logo.”
Harry nodded. “Alright.”
“Those pictures are going to be what people dream about. They want to be the two people in the picture, with their very own Quidditch kit from the best store. You want anyone who even slightly adores Quidditch and has a bit of money to spare to come in and buy something.”
He picked up the napkin and looked at it. “Me? In the picture? You’re going to make the whole of Diagon Alley look at me?”
“It is a family business, what’s the point if you don’t represent what you stand for?” she insisted.
He bit down on a marshmallow. “Fine, but then you better be the other person in the picture.”
“I can’t do that! I am signed with the Harpies! You can’t just use my likeness,” she explained.
“Oh, I am not an idiot.” He raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “I’ll owl the Harpies and tell them I was very impressed with you and I’d love to sponsor you for your first season.”
“No one in their right mind sponsors someone who hasn’t even made it onto the field,” she shot back.
He nodded and gestured towards her. “You’d be the first. I’d be the first.”
“Are you doing this just because I’m forcing you to be the face of your own damn store?” she asked.
He grinned at her. “Maybe.”
“Maybe you should talk to your dad about sponsoring a random player before you make me promises you can’t keep,” she suggested. How she’d look like a fool if the sponsorship was withdrawn.
“Actually, it’s my mother who manages the finances.” He licked the chocolate off the spoon. “I’ve been given a budget and I’m well within it.” He leaned forward, his gaze on her. “You pose for a few pictures and you get a sponsorship for a year? Isn’t that a good deal?”
“And you’d use my pictures for a year?” she asked.
He shrugged. “We might? We’ll see how it goes. If you’re doing well on the Harpies, we continue using the photos and you get another year of sponsorship without doing anything extra.”
“We’ll see about that,” she told him. Something about the two of them being on a poster together sent a thrill down her spine.
“What else?” he asked.
“What’s something that you have in stock that people can just walk in for?” Ginny asked.
Harry pressed his lips together. “Not much. Gloves, I suppose.”
“Yes! People come in, get that personal experience being sized for their gloves and they can pick them up. A lot of these gloves are super warm, they could use it for other things too. So, we’ll place a sledge on the side and then hang some gloves over it. Two pairs with different types of leather for example. You have the sledge standing up, put a broom against it and at the bottom you put a Quaffle. I know you don’t sell Quaffles—you’re just selling them an idea.”
Harry was listening to her quietly. He wasn’t interrupting now and not disagreeing. It was a rare experience.
“The Christmas tree isn’t just a tree. It’s going to have little snitches as baubles—I saw that the store up the street were selling baubles like that, so you’d be supporting a local shop. You can fluff up the rest of the tree with other things but the golden colour of the Snitches will be perfectly representative of what they may find inside.” She took another napkin and drew the Christmas tree on the right and the sledge on the left. “It’s Christmas, so you obviously need packages under the tree. Most will be empty but one will be open and will be shown with your usual sleek-looking delivery box and it’ll have a set of the padding and shoes.” She turned the napkin to Harry. “Do you see it? You can put some fake snow down here and charm the ceiling to snow softly. Add a scarf that matches the colour scheme, perhaps some footsteps in the fake snow and you have yourself a charming little story.”
He looked at the napkin and did not say anything. He took another sip from his hot chocolate.
“And?”
“Yeah, it’s great—would you consider changing careers?” he asked with a twinkle in his eyes.
She chuckled. “Not a chance.”
“Thought so.” He smiled at her. “It was worth a try.” He pointed at the hot chocolate. “Do you enjoy these marshmallows? I hate how it fizzes as it goes down my throat. I did not expect that.”
So, he had just taken whatever she had without knowing. “I love them. Give them to me.” She slid her mug closer.
Harry began scooping them and carrying them over to her mug. A little bit spilled and he gasped dramatically. “Oh, Merlin. Let’s clean this up before they throw us out,” he said in a loud conspiring whisper.
He met her eyes with all the seriousness one might expect from an auror and then dramatically pulled another napkin from the dispenser. He dabbed at the hot chocolate quickly.
“Whew,” he said. “That was close.” He nodded towards the bar. “I don’t think they saw that.”
Before she knew it, she burst out laughing and he joined in, his cheeks red and eyes alight.
“I’ll do the last two,” she told him in an equally serious tone but smiling. She took her spoon and scooped another marshmallow and he held his hand under her spoon as if spilling any more drops would alert the whole establishment of their heinous crimes.
They were practically giggling as she transferred the last marshmallow to her mug.
“Thank you so much for helping me out,” he said with a sincere look and a hand over his heart and she knew he wasn’t talking about the window display but saving him from the pesky marshmallows.
“You’re very welcome,” she said with a grin.
They finished their chocolates, keeping conversation light and then Harry said he had to head back and do some paperwork.
“Oh, yes,” Ginny nodded. “Silvia will be getting suspicious about your business meeting.”
He blushed and shook his head. “Yeah, she thinks a man like me—whatever that means—shouldn’t be working so much and pursue some women.”
“Multiple?” she asked.
“Apparently,” Harry told her. “Silvia says I haven’t lived unless I’ve drank from several ponds or something.”
Ginny grimaced. “That is a horrible comparison. Drink from several ponds?”
“You’ll have to ask her; I don’t know either,” Harry said with a grin.
They got their cloaks and walked out.
“I’ll owl you once we have the outfits and I get my hands on a photographer?” Harry said. “Still three weeks until Christmas. This should work out.”
Ginny smiled. “I think so.”
Harry looked reluctant to say goodbye. He fidgeted with the hem of his cloak for a moment. “If it turns shit anyway—my doing obviously—you’ll tell me, right? I think I need someone in my life who is brutally honest with me.”
“You got it.” She waved, her cheeks burning. “Bye.”
“Bye,” he said. “Don’t let anyone get in the way of your Christmas cheer.”
She smiled at him. “Oh no worries, I don’t have to look at the window display again.”
He laughed and with a final wave, walked off. It took her a moment to move too, walking down to the street to find a quiet spot to apparate.
It was just two days later when she returned to the store to take the pictures that would go up in the window display. Harry had called in a favour from an acquaintance and the seamstresses had worked extra hours—that they would be able to recuperate later—to get their outfits ready.
Margaret guided her to the fitting room they had used before, raving about the outfits. “Harry was so excited about your ideas, you really left an impression. Really anything is better than what that McLaggen-boy came up with.”
When the door was closed, Margaret took out the Quidditch robes. Because she couldn’t be affiliated with other teams’ colours, they went for a sleek black look with the logo of the shop printed on the chest instead of a team’s logo.
“Wow, it’s gorgeous,” she said.
Margaret handed it to her. “Go on and try it on. Then I’ll check if it needs any alterations.”
Ginny took it and stepped into the changing cubicle, pulling the curtain closed. She stripped down to her underwear and pulled on the robes. It was perfect. Ginny didn’t think it needed any alterations.
She opened the curtain and stepped out, turning around so Margaret could see. “Good, huh?”
“Looks great.” Marget walked closer. “Does it pinch or poke anywhere?”
Ginny moved around in it for a bit. “No. It’s good.” She stepped in front of the mirror and saw herself as her younger self had always dreamed. “Wow.”
Margaret smiled with pride. “You’re going to look wonderful.”
She was walked to another room which they had turned into a mini studio. Harry greeted her, dressed in the same robes. He looked drop-dead gorgeous.
“Afternoon,” she said when she found her voice again. “What do you think?”
He looked her up and down. “Excellent. That style really suits you.” He grinned at her.
“Thank you.” She suddenly felt shy under his gaze. “So do you.”
He chuckled awkwardly. “Thanks.” He gestured towards the photographer, who was busy setting up. “This is Colin Creevey. A budding photographer.”
“I am so excited for this opportunity,” Colin said, shaking Ginny hand. “I saw you had some ideas about the composition.”
“Not in much detail, but I think there should be a feeling of movement because the clothes are meant to move in and there should be enough space between us to put the logo in between, as big as possible. You understand what I’m saying?”
Colin nodded as she explained. “Absolutely. We’ll try a few things. We’ll do a few with broom and without broom.”
“Great.”
Silvia called Harry back over and began discussing his hair. She wanted to slick it back. Harry didn’t seem to be fond of the idea. Ginny walked over and Silvia asked her what she thought.
“It should be windswept, I think,” Ginny pondered out loud. She eyed the pot of Sleekeazy’s. “May I?”
“Have at it,” Silvia said. “Maybe you can wear one of the headbands we sell?”
“Excellent idea,” Ginny agreed.
Silvia walked off, the clicking of her heels disappearing in the distance as Ginny dipped her hands into the gel. She always thought the smell was nostalgic, but she remembered her dad using it when he still had any hair to put it in. She knew it was also a Potter product, invented by Harry’s grandfather.
She gestured for Harry to come closer and he walked up to her and bent over. She ran her hand through his hair, shaping it in a way that looked casual. She took up more product because the hair seemed a little stubborn and made sure it remained how she wanted it.
He stood back up.
“Don’t run your hands through that before we’re done,” she threatened mildly.
He frowned at her, but he wore a smile. “How do you know I do that?”
She arched an eyebrow and smiled at him knowingly and he let out a chuckle. Silvia walked back up with one of the headbands and helped her put it on.
Colin called them over again. “I know you have a vision with the two pair of gloves, the sledge and the broom—I think it would look great if we can get some couple-y photos so people will invent a story as they look at it.”
She understood the vision completely, but she was worried about how it would be perceived. She looked towards Harry to see what he thought.
He had opened his mouth but no sound came out yet.
“Nothing too intense,” Colin assured after that silence. “It’s more about the way you’ll be posed towards each other, some eye contact…”
Some eye-contact with the man with the piercing green eyes. She could do that. She was sure Colin would edit out her red cheeks if need be.
They spent the following two hours posing together and while he was still practically a stranger, with little quips and a few touches, she felt like she knew him a whole lot better than before.
Colin had them posing shoulder to shoulder, standing apart but looking casual as though they were holding a conversation and laughing. In the end they ended up truly bursting out laughing and had to take a break so she could catch a breath. Then they moved onto posing with a broom and Quaffle, tossing it back and forth as they hovered near the ground and flew left to right to get some motion in.
When they were done, she walked back to the fitting room and got changed as the rest cleaned up. She dressed in her winter clothes and put the outfit back on the hanger.
Someone knocked on the door.
“Yes,” she answered.
Harry opened the door, also dressed in regular clothes now. It was odd to see him out of the tidy button-down or Quidditch robes. He looked so casual like this.
“Thank you again,” he said.
She smiled at him. “Where do I leave the robes?”
“They’re yours,” he said.
“What?”
He gestured to the robes. “They only fit you like a glove so they’re yours to keep. For a pick-up game or something.”
“Are you sure?” she asked. “Thank you! I’ll make sure to tell people it came from here.”
“That’s very kind of you.” Someone down corridor called for his attention and he turned around. “Bye Silvia! Thank you! See you on Monday.”
Ginny picked up the robes and walked out with him. It was quiet in the store so everyone else must have gone home already. “I can’t wait to see the finished result.”
“I think it’ll be great.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Thank you for humouring me.”
She shrugged. “The best ideas come from it.”
From the corner of her eye she saw something move near the front desk. When she looked, she saw a gorgeous long-haired tabby cat leap onto the counter. Harry sighed and shook his head. They walked up to the cat.
He bent towards the cat. “Little Miss Paige Potter. We have been through this. You can’t come into the store like this.”
Paige’s reply was a purring head-butt against Harry’s forehead, pushing his glasses askew.
“Does she live here?” Ginny asked.
He readjusted his glasses. “She lives upstairs with me, but she loves sneaking in here when she’s hungry and she thinks everyone’s gone home.” He petted the cat. “You’re not supposed to be here.”
Ginny stuck her hand out and scratched the cat’s chin. “Oh, you live here?”
“There is an apartment upstairs. My parents lived there for a year or two before they had kids,” he told her. “Come on, Paige.”
The moment Harry lifted both his hands, Paige jumped off the front desk and walked down the corridor with all the confidence only a defiant cat could muster.
Ginny chuckled. “Nice try.”
“Paige, I can’t feed you if you won’t go upstairs,” Harry threatened half-heartedly as the cat disappeared around the corner. He let out a sigh. “I think this is going to take a while.”
“I can help you.”
He shot her an unconvinced look.
“What?” she responded. “Cats love me.”
He scoffed and shook his head. “Oh, okay. If you’re so confident…” He gestured down the corridor.
“Fine.” She handed the Quidditch robes to Harry so she’d have her hands free and walked after the cat.
He trailed after her slowly. “I love how sure you look.”
She looked over her shoulder at him, grinning, and it felt like time had stopped. He met her eyes, his head tilted ever so slightly to the side, her robes slung over his shoulder and the other hand in his pocket.
It was like the air had been knocked out of her. As she looked ahead once more, she sucked in a big breath so her head wouldn’t start spinning. She walked into the room and found Paige sitting on the display of gloves, washing her paw elegantly.
Ginny walked up to the cat slowly.
“Come on, Paige,” Harry said beside her.
The cat lifted her head, looked Harry dead in the eye over Ginny’s shoulder and jumped off.
Ginny frowned at Harry. “Do you want my help or not?”
“Starting to doubt it actually.” He grinned at her.
She shook her head and walked after the cat that now made an approach for the window. She sat down on the floor close to the cat. “Hey Paige.” She tapped the floor in front of her. “I know you’re hungry. I am too, so let’s go.” She tapped the floor again.
Paige looked at her for a long moment and then walked up to her. Ginny was worried to make any sudden movements and waited slowly with her hand held out until Paige pushed against it. Slowly but surely she drew her hand backwards and Paige followed.
“Aha!” she said, grabbing onto the cat triumphantly.
She stood up, the cat over her shoulder and looked at Harry. He nodded in approval.
“Well done. Do you mind carrying her upstairs? Don’t let go of her.” Harry asked.
She nodded. “Fine.”
She held onto the cat but she was purring so Ginny suspected she was pretty happy. Harry walked to the front desk and then walked behind it and Ginny followed. He walked through another door where there was a corridor parallel to the one in front but much smaller and less tidy.
Harry walked to the lift in front of them and pushed the button. A second later it pinged cheerily and the doors slid open.
Ginny walked in, holding Paige tightly and faced the door. Harry took his place beside her and pushed the button to the third floor.
As soon as the lift doors closed, Ginny let go of the cat. Paige jumped down and then stood purring in front of Harry.
“Traitor,” he whispered.
Paige kneaded the lift carpet.
“When did you get her?” Ginny asked.
Harry looked up from the cat to her. “Get her? She was a stowaway in a batch of dragon hide gloves with demiguise lining.” He sighed. “She was just a wee little kitten then. Didn’t know she was going to become the bane of my existence and simultaneously the only significant woman in my life.”
Ginny snorted. “I wouldn’t worry much—that’s how a lot of people describe their marriage. At least she doesn’t steal your blanket.”
Harry’s expression told Ginny that Paige did in fact steal his blanket. “She takes up half the bed.”
“So, it is like a marriage then,” Ginny said cheerily. “You could do worse.”
Harry snorted lightly.
The lift slid open. Ginny had thought it would open in another corridor but the lift opened straight into Harry’s living room.
Harry walked out, the cat traipsing after him. “Do come in,” he called over his shoulder. He hung her robes up by the coat hanger before he walked on.
Ginny stepped out and the lift closed behind her. She followed him into the kitchen where Paige was dancing around his hands as he attempted to open a can of food for her.
“Paige!” he complained. “Give me a minute to feed you.”
Ginny smiled at it and then looked around her. The apartment definitely had a similar vibe to the store down below. The same architecture with wonderful wooden floors and marble details and those terribly high ceilings but the furniture was decidedly from a more recent decade and none of it matched.
“So you live here?” Ginny asked as Harry unceremoniously dumped the cat food onto a plate and placed it on the floor. “On your own?”
“No, with Paige.” He smiled at her. “Do you want a drink?”
“Does it have fizzy marshmallows?”
He looked at her in amusement. “I’m afraid not. I do have the butterbitterbeer or pumpkin juice or any of the usual.”
“Butterbitterbeer,” she said. It was the slightly alcoholic variant of butterbeer.
Harry took two bottles out and opened them before handing one to her. “To a sponsorship, Christmas cheer and cats.”
Ginny grinned and clinked her bottle against his before she drank.
Harry glanced at Paige again. “Thank you for her. She’s a very stubborn and independent lady.”
“That’s why Paige and I understand each other,” she said.
Harry looked back up at her. “Stubborn?”
“Terribly so,” she admitted. He was quite close to her as he leaned on the counter. “I’m working on the independent bit, though.”
“I won’t judge,” he said. “I’m working in a family store and live above it. I’m afraid I’m the opposite of independent.”
Ginny chuckled lightly. “It has charm, you know.”
Something about staring into each other’s eyes for half the afternoon had drastically changed their dynamic. She both felt more relaxed around him and more nervous. At some point locking eyes with each other with a faked loving gaze, she had started to believe it.
“It’s the legacy,” he agreed.
She leaned towards him. “You can’t underestimate all the knowledge you’ve acquired. No one else would ramble on about how the leather of the Welsh Green is so supple and long-lasting because it was tanned in the blood of her enemies on a full moon.”
Harry set his bottle down, coughing as he laughed. “Is that how I sounded to you?”
She nodded decidedly. “Means nothing to me. I appreciate you’re trying to sell a story—and trust me you’re managing but… it’s not like anyone can tell the difference between a pad of Ironbellyhide or Chinese Fireball.” She shrugged. “It’s the illusion of choice.”
His jaw dropped. “You couldn’t tell the difference?! I have failed you completely.”
Ginny thought that was a bit drastic.
“I’ll be right back.” He walked out of the kitchen and through the living room into the corridor on the other side. “We don’t even sell Fireball leather! It’s completely unworkable and prone to splitting.” He walked back, holding two shin pads. “Come here.”
She left her beer on the counter and crossed to the middle of the living room.
“Touch these,” he said, holding them in either hand. “Hold onto them.”
Ginny took hold of them and Harry held the other ends.
“Rub your thumb along it and feel how it moves.”
Yes, rubbing a leather object they were both holding wasn’t super weird. She shot him an incredulous look.
“Do it,” he insisted. “Tell me which has the most give.”
She obliged and rubbed her thumbs back and forth a few times. “Okay, the left one.”
He nodded. “Try to bend it. Which is sturdier?”
She moved the pads as he gave counterpressure. “Weirdly enough, also the left.”
“Yeah,” he confirmed. “There are many nuances to it. The right one has less give and bends more so it’s prone to splitting, but it does excellent when it’s wet—you’ll need to trust me on that.”
“Sure,” she mumbled. Was there any reason why they were still both holding onto the shin pads?
“One is a Swedish short-snout and the other is a Welsh Green,” he told her. “Which one is which?”
She tried to remember all she had heard him say about it earlier today. “Left if Welsh Green?”
He smiled at her, almost proudly. “See, you can tell the difference. In ideal conditions it doesn’t matter much perhaps, but when are you ever playing under ideal conditions?”
“I see your point.” She locked eyes with him. “And both of these are full-grain leather?”
Harry nodded. “Yes. We only sell full-grain.”
She tried to bite back her smirk. “I’m pulling your wand, Harry. I knew that.”
“Oh.”
They looked at each other in perfect silence, electricity almost tangible between them. A moment later he softly tugged on the pads. She didn’t let go, reducing the space between them and then his lips were on hers.
As much as it took her by surprise, she melted into it a moment later. Her lips slipped over his, clutching onto the pads like it was a lifeline.
He withdrew from her, looking a little breathless. “I’m sorry, I—”
“You’re sorry?” she asked, the thrill of it all turning into mush in her stomach. “Why?”
“Well, you are…” He gestured towards her. “And I’m…” He gestured towards himself but no further explanation followed. “It’s unprofessional.”
“I’m well aware. I carried your cat up,” Ginny said with a chuckle. “If I was worried about you crossing that boundary, I would have already been home.”
This reply seemed to puzzle him. She sighed, pushed the shin pads into his chest and he grabbed hold of them. She used both her hands to clutch his face and kissed him again.
The pads dropped to the floor and his hands found her waist. She stepped closer to him, resisting to smile.
He let out a soft little hum against her lips and it sent a thrill down her spine. She wrapped her arms around his neck and eliminated the space between their bodies. He wrapped one arm around her. His free hand softly followed the curve of her jawline to her chin before his fingertips swept tantalisingly down the side of her neck. As his tongue swiped against her lips, his hand moved her hair back over her shoulder.
She opened her lips gently, their tongues meeting and his hand carding through her hair. She wanted all of it, she wanted to let him in and explore anything with those meticulous fingers that could tell the smallest difference in material without even looking.
He pulled away from her but immediately pressed another kiss against her lips as if he already regretted it. They met eyes. His cheeks looked as flushed as she felt. His pupils were dark and his breathing uneven. She offered him a self-assured gaze. She wanted this—needed this. His hands on hers.
She licked her lips and tried to steady her breathing. “Don’t think too hard. Kiss me again.”
“I’m afraid if we continue this—I’ll want more.”
She kissed him again before she met his gaze once more. “There is nothing wrong with that.”
His pupils grew darker. He leaned back in and she welcomed his mouth on hers gladly. It was urgent and heated and when she moved her body closer, she found more evidence of his arousal.
His lips left hers and lowered to her neck. He kept her firmly in place as he made a trail down her neck. He sucked softly.
She moaned softly. “No hickey,” she warned without making any attempt to remove Harry’s lips, or any other piece of Harry from that matter, from her body.
He was slow to obey before he moved on. His hands ducked under her knitted jumper to fully appreciate the curve of her waist.
He kissed his way back up to her mouth and met her eyes once again. She offered him an arched eyebrow she hoped was inviting. She reckoned it was when a moment later his hands tightened around her and lifted her up.
She wrapped her legs around his waist and he moved his hands to her butt to keep hold of her. Ginny brushed her hand through his hair. He gazed at her quietly.
She nodded, letting her nails graze his scalp. He closed his eyes for a moment before he opened them again.
“Would you be opposed to the bedroom?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Not at all.”
He did not put her down, he turned around clutching her tightly. He made it down the corridor in record speed and through the door before he closed it with a mumbled ‘Paige’.
Ginny was placed onto the bed surprisingly gently. She pulled her jumper off, leaving her in her bra. She hadn’t exactly layered up today since she had to do the photoshoot.
He stood at the foot of the bed, looking down at her. He placed his hands on either side of her. “Can you stop looking at me like that?”
She smiled, attempting to bring her legs back around him but he was not leaning further into her. “Like what?”
“Like you’re… Like that,” he said. “Unrestrained and genuine about your attraction to me?”
She scoffed lightly. “You know I’m brutally honest.” She pushed up on her elbows, bringing her face closer to his. “There is no other thing at play here than that. I don’t stand to gain from doing this—in fact it’s more of a risk considering we’ll be plastered on Diagon Alley for the whole British magical community to see—other than that every time you looked at me this afternoon, I couldn’t tear my gaze away. My whole body is screaming for you to touch me.”
He did not look entirely convinced about this but he moved her up on the bed as if she weighed nothing before he joined her. She began lifting his shirt up. He took it off the rest of the way.
As his lips landed back on hers, she opened his trousers. She slipped her hand inside and palmed the bulge. He moaned softly.
“Tell me you noticed it too,” she murmured against his lips. “I’ve never had someone look at me like that.”
He swallowed hard, hesitation showing in his eyes but then he nodded. “I could not stop looking at you.”
She pulled him down on top of her. She kissed him and wrapped herself around him. The less space the better. Their lips met in a heated kiss and his hand touched her waist, skin to skin and it was electrifying. She traced a path down his spine.
He tried to undo her jeans but she kept wriggling under him. He let out a frustrated hum and pinned her to the mattress. “Ginny.”
“Yes.” She peered up at him innocently. “Do they need to come off?”
He nodded. “Don’t move.”
She was perfectly well-behaved as he pulled her trousers off her legs, leaving her in her panties and bra.
He paused to admire her. She shook her head at him and sat up and pushed his trousers down along with his underwear. He kicked it off and she guided him to lie down on the bed. She knelt beside him and wrapped her fingers around his cock. She gave it a few strokes, watching his expression. She bent down and wrapped her lips around it. She took his cock into her mouth and bobbed up and down a few times. He gathered her hair and pulled it back out of her face and she met his eyes teasingly.
He looked as though he was hanging on by a thread. She started moving again, using her hand circled around the base to fully envelop his cock. He moaned softly. The hold of her hair moved to his left hand and his right came to her back. A moment later, her bra snapped open.
Slowly she pulled back from his cock, teasing it with her tongue the whole way. She let go of his cock in favour of shedding her bra. She straddled his waist, hovering above him. He reached out and cupped her breast, playing with it for a moment before his hands came to her hips and guided her forward a little. She scooted a little closer. He beckoned her.
She kissed him and his hand came to between her legs. He rubbed her through his underwear and discovered the wet patch there for himself. He moved her underwear to the side after a moment and cupped her with his hand.
“Is all that for me?” he asked her. His fingers traced her opening. “Do you want me to taste?”
She nodded, practically throbbing against his hand. His pointer finger swept up the wetness and brought it to his lips. He sucked on it softly as if he had just swept his finger through a bowl of tasty cookie batter.
His fingers returned between her legs, teasing her clit. “Are you on the potion?” he asked.
There was little that could stop her right now, but thankfully the answer was affirmative. “Yes.”
“Take your panties off.”
She moved off him and pulled them down her hips, baring all for him. She kicked them off and moved back over him. Keeping his gaze locked with hers, he took hold of his cock to guide it into her. She moved down until they were lined up. Then she took him inside of her until he was buried to the hilt.
“Merlin,” he sighed. “What a sight.”
She grinned at him and it was like lightning the way they connected. Instant and intense. Didn’t need many words.
He sat up and took a nipple into his mouth as she moved her hips slowly. It was so bloody sensual and tender the way he was sucking on her tits, his hands against her back and her hips moving in slow circles on top of him. She hadn’t intended to make it last so short, there were many more positions she thought they could explore but it was just too much. She moaned softly and couldn’t take it any longer. She came on his cock, his lips against her breast and her hands tugging on his hair. She pulled his orgasm from him with her own. She remained in that position and Harry’s hands lowered a little as he rested his head against her shoulder.
She buried her face in his hair. She was pretty sure one-night-stands shouldn’t feel this intimate, but she couldn’t begin to care at this very moment. Even the nostalgic smell of the Sleekeazy couldn’t bring her into a normal sense of reality.
After a long moment that may have been several minutes, he lifted his head up and she moved back to look at him.
“You ride like heaven, Weasley.”
She chuckled lightly. “I am a professional.”
He laughed and adjusted his hold on her. “I could not argue against it.” He pressed another kiss to her lips.
“I didn’t…” She didn’t want to sound overzealous. “There were more positions I wanted to explore with you but that one felt so good.”
He brushed her hair out of her face tenderly. “I know,” he murmured.
If a single gesture could make her fall in love, it was what he just did, combined with that enamoured look in his eyes.
“Unless you have somewhere to be, I don’t see why we shouldn’t get there,” he suggested.
She considered it. “I hate to be a spoilsport, but if you want more physical activity out of me, you are going to have to feed me.”
“I think that’s an acceptable compromise,” he said, while looking like that wasn’t a compromise at all.
She remained in bed while Harry got dressed, draped across the cushions like some trophy wife she could never aspire to be, but the architecture of the building simply called for it. He went to get takeout down the street and she looked around for something to wear when Paige walked into the room and planted herself on the bed.
She petted the cat. “Your dad’s out, little darling.” She found the button-down that had looked so good on him the other day tossed over a chair and she reckoned that was good enough to wear. She pulled her panties back on and the shirt over it, buttoning it carefully.
“What do you think? Good enough?” Ginny asked Paige.
She looked entirely unimpressed.
As Ginny walked down the corridor, she could hear Paige running after her. “Do you know where the restroom is?”
Paige didn’t offer any guidance but did follow her into the restroom once she had found it. She gazed at the cat as she sat on the toilet.
“I bet you’re spoiled rotten,” Ginny told her. “In fact, I’m sure of it.” After she was done, she stood in front of the mirror and adjusted her hair and admired the shirt and how big it looked on her frame. “You were right, Paige. This is an excellent outfit.”
She walked into the kitchen and sipped on the beer she had left there. Paige jumped up on the counter. They were still there when Harry opened the door with a bag with food.
She turned around to him and smiled, Paige beside her.
He chuckled at the sight and set the food on the counter.
“I wanted to argue that this shirt looks better on me,” she started. “But I distinctly remember how well it fit on you so perhaps it’s not better on me.”
He looked her up and down. “Agree to disagree.”
She smiled at him and turned to the food. She grabbed Paige, who had already stuck her head into the bag. “That’s not for you, sweet darling.”
“Don’t bother, she thinks everything in here belongs to her—including the store.”
Ginny laughed as she set Paige down on the floor. “That doesn’t surprise me.”
Harry took out the chips and then looked inside. “For you, the Hippogriff menu and for me the Abraxan one.” He pushed one of the burgers to her.
The Hippogriff hamburger did not have hippogriff meat, but a whole ton of beef burger and bacon with little vegetables, just as Ginny liked. The Abraxan was a chicken burger that came with a slice of cheese made with malt and two strips of bacon.
They sat at the table, eating in silence for a moment.
“You know I don’t usually do this with…” Harry paused for a moment, “with customers.”
She swallowed her bite. “I would imagine so or you’d be quite a busy man.” She laughed at her own joke and Harry huffed lightly in amusement.
“You know what I was trying to say?” he asked her.
She nodded. “Yes. It’s your choice if you do,” she said with a shrug.
“You don’t seem very preoccupied with it,” he told her.
“True,” she said. “I don’t care about being the first—who’s been in someone bed is none of my business really unless I am in it.” She picked up a chip. “And one day I’ll care about being the last.”
“That’s very apt.”
She smiled at him. “I’m a writer when I’m not an athlete.”
They finished their food while keeping conversation light. She grabbed the peppermint frog from the bag that they added just for Christmas and popped it into her mouth before she took her seat back at the table.
She leaned back and put her feet up on it, her bare legs appearing. “How’s dessert looking?”
“Pretty good,” he said, his gaze on her legs. “How can you look so petite yet so gutsy?”
She winked at him. “I think you’ve just summed me up in two words. It pairs together surprisingly well, like salted caramel or cheese and honey.”
“I would have to agree.” He was still tracking her legs up to her thighs where they disappeared under the table. “Are you wearing underwear?”
She laughed and nodded. “I didn’t really feel comfortable sitting bare-assed on unfamiliar furniture. Feels violating to the chair quite frankly.”
The amusement was written all over his face as he listened.
“Not to worry, Mr Potter,” she continued, tossing a spare chip at his head. “It slips right off…” She licked her lips. “Full-grain too.”
He hid his face in his hands as he laughed. “I’ve never had trying to impress someone backfire on me like this before.” His head lifted and he offered her a fond gaze. “I’ll tolerate it, because it makes your eyes twinkle.”
She removed her feet from the table and sat straight. “Excuse me, I regret to inform you that you think I’m in hilarious.”
His smile never left. “Of course.” He took out his wand and made the rubbish clean itself up.
She walked out into the living room, feeling his eyes on her back. She took hold of her panties and shimmied them down slowly before she let them drop on the floor and twisted around towards him.
She was still covered by his shirt that came well past her butt. “Do you get your shirts tailored by the store?”
“Oh, I don’t think they’d let me walk around otherwise,” Harry replied as he walked towards her. One hand came to her waist and the other tilted her chin up a little to meet his eyes. “Noticed that, did you?”
She suppressed her smile. “You know I have a keen eye.”
He hummed softly and then he lowered himself to the ground right in front of her down on his knees. His hands disappeared under the shirt to guide her closer to him. His head disappeared under the garment too.
He wedged her legs apart with his hands and then she felt his lips right above her clit as a little warning and then he moved his lips down. She couldn’t see what he was doing under the shirt but feeling it was plenty. His hands were keeping her in place as his tongue flicked against her clit. She moaned softly and tried to remain standing.
“Good?” he asked, his hot breath fanning against her thighs.
“Oh yes.”
His mouth resumed, sucking and licked her like he was a starving man. She tried not to push into his tongue but it felt so good. Her breathing picked up and she desperately needed something to grab onto.
She took a step back and Harry came into view from under the shirt. He met eyes with her, wet lips from her.
“Give my dessert back,” he told her, reaching out to her thigh.
She shook her head and intercepted his hand and pulled him up. “Let’s move before my knees buckle.”
He grinned at her and pulled her to the bedroom.
She woke up with the sun. Her hand was not resting on a naked chest as she was expecting but on something soft and purry. She opened her eyes and found Paige, in the middle of the bed purring happily. Ginny scratched behind Paige’s ear and pushed up on her elbow.
Ginny and Paige seemed to have hogged all the sheets because Harry was near the edge of the bed, only half-covered by the fabric, leaving a delicious butt cheek and leg out for her to admire.
“You do this regularly then?” she asked Paige softly.
With another pet to Paige’s head, Ginny crawled out of bed. She found her bra nearby, trousers just a little further.
Harry stirred and turned around, pulling the sheet towards him under the grumbled protest of his cat. “You’re going?”
“I hate to run but if I’m not home soon, my mother will be making a missing’s person’s report.” She pulled her jumper on.
“You still live at home?” he asked.
She nodded. “Wasn’t making much money before I got signed. It’s just easier.” She stepped into her shoes. “She says I am an adult so I can go when I please and it’s none of her business, except she will get worried and absolutely ask me where I was.”
Harry chuckled. “She sounds great.”
“Oh, she is,” Ginny agreed. “She’s planning a feast for Christmas. Full of proper cheer.” She nodded towards him. “Please tell me you’re having proper cheer?”
He winced. “My family is gathering for New Year’s Eve so most of them made different plans for Christmas. I made none.”
“Find some cheer, Harry!”
He laughed. “I’ll try… I’ll see you in two days then? For your full approval of the display?”
“Yes, I will.” She walked around the bed to Harry’s side, not really sure how to wrap this up.
He gazed up at her. “You can go through the first door on the left when you exit the lift and apparate from the courtyard. The store is locked up right now.”
“Okay. Thanks.” She sat down on the edge of the bed. “Is this putting the sponsorship in jeopardy?”
“Not really,” Harry said with no concern showing.
She frowned at him. “How so?”
“Well, since you already helped out with the display and everything, I kind of phrased it dubiously. As in both the store and the Harpies can benefit from this connection instead of please let me use your player’s likeness. Nuance.” He smiled at her. “That is if they find out.”
Which was unlikely to happen anyway. “You are a smart man.”
Determined not to leave on an awkward note and not at all because his looked so damn kissable in the morning, she leaned in and placed another kiss on his lips.
Then she stood up and after making sure her shoes were tied, she stepped to the door to the bedroom. When she looked, Harry had turned to Paige to pet her on her head and was talking softly to her. Ginny smiled to herself and walked down the corridor. She called the lift and took her Quidditch robes off the hook while she waited.
She followed his instructions, going out to the courtyard and then apparating from there, hoping her mother wasn’t awake yet.
Ginny found her mother in the kitchen with a cup of tea exactly three minutes later. She greeted her sheepishly, draped the robes over a chair and sank down on another opposite her mother.
“You know I like to know where you are,” her mother said.
Ginny nodded. “I was exactly where I said I’d be.”
“The whole time?” her mother asked, sipping her tea with pursed lips, signifying her disbelief.
“The whole time,” Ginny confirmed. “There’s an apartment above the store.”
Her mother looked at her. “The Potter boy?”
“Boy, man,” she replied casually. A whole lot of man.
Her mother hummed quietly. “The oldest one?”
“Yes, mother. I’m fairly sure his younger brother is underage,” Ginny said. “So yes, their eldest.”
An owl landed on the window sill, delivering the morning news. Her mother stood up and took the paper from the owl. She glanced at it and put it down on the table before sitting down again.
“You know that’s a pretty good family,” her mother said. “Blood traitors like us. Upstanding family. Intelligent people too.”
Ginny knew exactly what her mother was implying with this list of positive attributes. “You know it wasn’t like that.” She felt her blush glow under her skin, expanding down onto her neck and up to her ears. “He’s a handsome man. Very witty.”
“Sure.” Her mother took another sip from her tea with another teaspoon of judgement. “So, you won’t see him again?”
“Well, yes. We have the reveal for the window display,” she admitted. “Harry will owl me when it’s done. Should be soon.”
Her mother nodded. “We should ask him for Christmas.”
“Mum, no!” Ginny insisted. She didn’t want this to be a big deal, or even for her to have to wonder about what it meant. She was perfectly happy just leaving it at this one wonderful, once-in-a-lifetime night.
“Does he have plans on Christmas?” she asked.
She blew air out of her mouth, buying her a little time. “…No.”
“But you asked him if he had plans?” she insisted with another knowing look.
She sighed. “Yes. We were making small talk, as one does.”
“Of course.” She eyed the robes. “So those are the robes they prepared for you?”
Ginny nodded as she looked over at them. “Yes. It’s basically what I’ll be wearing for the Harpies, but in black.” She grinned at her mum. “Do you want to see? I’ll put it on.”
“Yes! I want to see how you’ll look!”
Ginny darted off to change into it, feeling like the younger Ginny who would show off what she had bought after going shopping with her friends.
It was two days later, two and a half weeks from Christmas when the new window display was ready and Harry invited her to come watch it together with him, Colin and the Potter Emporium employees. She was more than impressed that he pulled it off in such a small amount of time but it seemed he—or his family—was well-connected and calling in favours was not difficult, because they did favours for others all the time and were friendly with nearly all merchants on Diagon Alley.
She dressed warmly because it had been snowing lightly all day, though it hadn’t stuck to the ground yet. She topped it off with a scarf and a warm coat. When she walked up to the store, she found the employees there, standing in front of the window. It was glazed over with a snowy pattern on the window so they could not see the result yet.
“Did the pictures turn out okay?” she asked Colin.
“Yes,” he told her excitedly. “It’ll be great advertisement for me too to have this here. I feel like it’s really believable—you know a couple having fun, gifting the pads to each other, their gloves discarded on the sledge. It’s like a small adventure.” He pointed towards the glass though nothing could be seen. “You two just met and you have amazing chemistry. It really tied those pictures together.”
Harry walked out of the store and smiled at her before he addressed everyone. “I hope you are ready for the grand reveal of our second Christmas window display.” He took his wand out as they chuckled. “Three, two, one!”
With a wave of his wand, the window unfrosted and showed the scenery behind it. It was exactly how Ginny imagined it. Snow was softly dropping down on the twinkling Christmas tree, the sledge and broom rested together on the left. She looked at the picture behind all of it.
The logo of the Potter Quidditch Emporium stood proudly in the middle and then it was the two of them, standing across from each other, laughing at a joke as they held onto their brooms. She watched as the Ginny in the picture burst out laughing over and over again and Harry laughed in turn. It was all silent, but it conveyed a profound sense of cheery memories and a bond they didn’t exactly have. Of course, it was all up to the observer’s interpretation.
They cheered as it was revealed. They congratulated Harry on the hard work, Ginny for the vision and Colin for the pictures. The employees had a full day of work behind them so after the proper approval had been passed on, they headed home.
Harry thanked Colin again and he thanked Harry in turn before leaving too. Harry quietly nodded towards the building. She followed, leaving the late shoppers heading home behind her.
When they had made it inside the store, Harry turned to her, his hands tucked in his coat. “Honest opinion?”
“Excellent Christmas cheer. Genuine, real life people do help a lot. I am extremely impressed you managed to execute this in… two days? Four days in total?”
“Thanks,” he said with a small smile. “I value your opinion.”
She felt her cheeks up. “It looks great. I’d walk in a store like that for sure.”
“Lovely.” He cleared his throat, his cheeks reddening more. He looked around as though he wanted to verify they were alone. “Do you know you left your panties behind?”
Her eyes widened. “Oh. Yeah. I wasn’t really thinking in the morning and by the time I realised I was already home.”
She was about to tell him that it was fine and she had others, when his hand escaped the coat, holding her panties. “Oh.” She distinctly remembered that he had his hand in his pocket the whole time they were outside. “You held onto that the whole time?”
“I washed them!” he defended as if that was the issue. “I just wanted to give them back.”
She shook her head, smiling. “You were holding onto my damn panties while you were chatting with everyone outside?”
“Well, not exactly,” he told her, getting even redder.
She was not convinced. He held them out to her.
“Oh no,” she said, pushing his hand back firmly. “I wouldn’t want you to part with your emotional-support panties.”
Harry’s mouth snapped shut in surprise but then he laughed. He did return panties to his pocket to Ginny’s satisfaction.
“My mum asked if you would like to join us for Christmas. I made the mistake of telling her you’d be alone—not that I wouldn’t want you to come, just…” She shrugged, feeling a bit awkward. She wasn’t exactly sure what she wanted to hear from him.
He blinked at her. “She knew where you were?”
“Yeah. No details.” She snorted lightly. “She said you were from a good family.”
“Aha.” He nodded. “Lovely.”
She bit her lip. “Obviously, if you were to come, I’d explain that it isn’t serious or something that you’re just… well, you’d be my date but it’s not like we’re an item. It’s not serious.”
Oh, rambling Ginny. She didn’t rear her head often, but when she did it was usually a small disaster.
“Right, not serious,” Harry agreed, stepping closer to her.
She had to tilt her head slightly to meet his eyes when she was that close. “Exactly.”
He cupped her face gently. “Just as a date.”
“Precisely.”
He kissed her softly and she eagerly met his movements.
“This doesn’t need to be serious,” he repeated.
She nodded against his lips. “Not at all.” She wrapped her arms around his neck.
“We may need to have another business meeting over dinner. Should know more about you, and your family to prepare,” he suggested, his thumb rubbing tenderly across her cheek.
She smiled. “That’s only sensible.”
His eyes lit up at her agreement. “Do you need to be somewhere tonight?”
She shook her head. “No. You?”
“Here with you, maybe,” he murmured.
She kissed him again before she met his eyes. “Okay.”
She sat on the couch in her cute red dress with white trim, looking outside the window. She had helped her mother all day to prepare. Ron and Percy had arrived timely and were bugging her about being so focused on Harry’s arrival.
“I just want to make sure I don’t miss it—I just can’t let him greet you all alone.” She shot a judging look at Ron. “You never know how to properly behave.”
“Did you see the window display?” her mother asked Ron, peaking her head out of the door to the kitchen where her and Arthur were checking on the turkey and putting heat-holding charms on the sides.
“Yes,” Ron said. “Hard to miss your sister drooling over a man printed in large on a poster—”
“Shut up”
“—But tonight, we get to see it live!”
She was about to retort when she heard the familiar popping sound of someone apparating by the edge of the garden. She recognised his shape immediately and shot up off the couch, ignoring her two brothers’ comments.
She walked outside, excited to see him again. Not that they hadn’t seen each other frequently in the two weeks between. Definitely not several times over dinner and at least as many times between his sheets.
He noticed her and beamed at her. “Well, aren’t you a sight.”
She felt her blush appear immediately and she hoped that her brothers would only poke fun at her blush after Harry had gone home again.
She stood on her tiptoes to kiss him. He took hold of her with his free hand and kissed her softly. She stepped away and eyed the bag he was holding.
“You brought gifts?” she asked. “I said it was fine.”
He waved her comment away. “It’s one gift, one that’s for all of you.”
She frowned at him.
“It’s the newest Quidditch set from Qrinkles’ Quaffle,” he told her. “It only launches on the first of January.”
Her jaw dropped. “Why are you trying to impress my brothers? It’s not that serious.”
“Who said I wasn’t trying to impress you?” he shot back as they started to walk towards the house.
She smiled at him. “I didn’t think you’d try again, to be fair. Besides—this isn’t serious.” She gestured between the two of them.
He didn’t seem bothered by that remark. “On that note, my parents asked if you would like to join New Year’s Eve with the Potters.”
She nodded. “Right.”
“I told them it wasn’t serious, but they didn’t seem to want to hear it either,” he told her with a grin. “They see what they want to see, I suppose.”
“How strange,” she said, keeping her gaze locked with his, pausing a little away from the door. “Do you reckon we should give the people what they want?”
He answered her so fast. “I’m not opposed to it.”
She smiled wider and took his hand. “Keep that set ready, because you’ll be under a lot of scrutiny if it’s to be serious,” she joked. “It may be your only chance at approval.” Then she pulled her boyfriend inside, ready to brave her family’s judgement.