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“Your dad said he knew what he was doing,” Harry mutters, kicking a tire with the toe of his trainer.
Ginny snickers from her place lounged on the faded hood, sunglasses perched low on her nose. “And you believed him?”
“Well you did too - up until the smoking engine bit,” Harry says, slightly defensive as he rounds the car, “Weasleys are a convincing bunch.”
A soft breeze lifts Harry’s overgrown waves, sun glinting on his spectacles, and Ginny can’t keep the soft smile from her face. “It was a nice morning.”
It really had been, too - clear blue skies, endless road before them, patchy radio blaring out oldies, and Ginny’s laughter loud and bright as the sun overhead. Until a few clunking noises turned to tendrils of white smoke which turned to dark grey plumes, obscuring the wind screen enough they had to pull off into the shoulder.
Still, he’d take a day like this with Ginny over the best day anywhere else with anyone else. Her sailor-mouthed swearing, full-bellied laughter, and endless cheek never fail to bring Harry back to reality, back to himself.
“It was nice,” Harry answers, soft as he props his hip on the hood.
Ginny stretches her hand toward him and wiggles her fingers until he slots his between them and squeezes gently. “Been a while since we passed a village - should be something soon, eh?”
“There’s a map in the glove box.”
“Turn up the tunes, I need music to read longitude by,” Ginny demands, suddenly tingling with energy as she rolls and drops her dark-booted feet to the ground.
Once Harry twists the starter, Ginny immediately begins wailing along with some vaguely ethereal song on the radio while she studies the crumpled map. “Dunno why I volunteered - maps aren’t exactly my thing.”
Harry reaches for the map and manages to find the little side road he’d chosen on a devil-may-care whim he is now slightly regretting. Luckily, it seems there is a little village of sorts coming up where they’ll be able to - shite.
“Ginny,” when she hums Harry continues, “What exactly is the plan once we do get to civilization.”
“Technically we haven’t left - the road is paved, we still have radio access,” Ginny lists off as they gather their minimal belongings and lock the car. Pity the intrepid thief who makes an attempt on the hunk of metal currently sort of smoldering in the afternoon light.
“ Regardless , nobody in your family’s got a phone, neither of us can apparate - ”
“Technically you can,” Ginny corrects, swaying weeds brushing her freckled calves.
Wrapping one arm around Ginny’s shoulders, Harry pulls her in close as they slowly wander along the roadside. Her flowery scent drifts on the warm breeze and Harry’s unbelievably content for someone whose car just crapped out in the middle of nowhere. “ Technically , I broke a lot of laws and Kinglsey asked me to wait a few weeks before starting in again.”
“My training wasn’t the best - wouldn’t this be extenuating circumstances?”
“Who wants to test that?” Harry laughs, “‘Sides, this is almost like a date.”
At his flush, Ginny bites her lip and leans further into Harry’s side. “True enough. So tell me about that film you went to see with Ron on your other almost date this week.”
Harry pinches her side and their easy chatter carries them to the outskirts of town. Small, squat buildings line the main street which turns from paved road to cobblestones. Shopkeepers sweep dirt from their doorsteps, calling out familiarly to each other, and traffic seems to be more cycling and pedestrian than anything else.
Luckily, though, they do find a mechanic’s shop, and Earl seems more than willing to have Harry’s junker towed and hopefully put to rights as soon as possible. Mainly because of Ginny’s knack for making anyone she talks to feel like the most important person in the room. It’s not a tactic - the longer Harry’s known her, the more he’s realized she’s the most genuine person he’s ever met. There’s not a false bone in her body, if you’ve done something wrong, she’ll tell you flat out and when someone speaks she’s hooked in, full on attention that would make anyone preen.
And Earl is certainly no exception, smiling and scratching his tufty white beard as he recommends a nearby bed and breakfast - though he says his wife Mamie serves the best shepherd’s pie in town at the pub next door.
Eventually, the mechanic disappears into the garage to begin his preliminary look at the car and dismisses Harry and Ginny, assuring them he’ll be able to find them if necessary.
It’s said in an ominous ‘your car may be more valuable as parts’ kind of way that has Harry longing for a tall pint to drown his sorrows.
“My first major purchase without Hagrid’s supervision and I buy a deathtrap,” he sighs, swiping stray droplets from his upper lip while Ginny eyes the pretzel in her hand speculatively.
“Never took you for a scaredy-cat,” she says after a moment, dark brown gaze finding his across the sticky table, “Thought the point was a project - ‘something to do with your hands’ even though I assured you I had plenty of alternatives available.”
Though he blushes all the while, Harry doesn’t let his eyes drop as he answers in a low, meaningful voice he’s really quite proud of, “Always trying to become more dexterous for you, dear.”
“I prefer training together,” Ginny answers, never faltering as she follows up with a slow teasing lick of her lips.
Before Harry has a chance to answer - the content of which he was still formulating - Rhoda, their waitress slides a couple of steaming plates full of shepherd’s pie in front of them and departs to pull a couple more pints.
“S’pose we could sightsee,” Harry says, at least half a dozen forkfuls into the meal Earl definitely didn’t oversell. Ginny’s moans seem to indicate she agrees, and also have Harry’s mind drifting a bit. So bland small talk it is.
True to his word, Earl does manage to find them, coveralls streaked with grease and smiling as he eyes their empty plates. “I told you Mamie was the best cook in the county eh?”
Ginny nods her agreement, nudging Harry under the table and dragging him from his mental picture of his car simply burst into flames. “Filled us right up,” Harry offers with a grin that falters only a hair as he asks, “So the car?”
Harry ruffles his hair. “Er - yeah. Would seem so.”
Earl wipes at his hands with a red rag and stuffs it into his back pocket. “Well I’ve got mostly good news for you. The problems have been diagnosed,” Harry winces at the plural and Earl continues, “And I’m well equipped to fix ‘em all. ‘Cept for the parts. They’ll be here in the morning, first thing.”
“First thing - ” Harry stutters out, “So we are - ”
Ginny smiles. “Thank you Earl. Guess we’re heading over to that B&B you mentioned.”
“Mention my name - Tom’s my brother-in-law and he’ll give you the best room in the house.”
The best room, it turns out, is a cozy little something that smells slightly of mold but has the most beautiful view of the coast either of them has ever seen. Ginny drops onto the bed - yes singular bed - and bounces to the tune of creaky springs. “S’not so bad. Surprise holiday!”
Harry grins. “I’ve had worse surprises.”
“And we’ll be back before Mum knows the difference.”
Assuming the parts arrive in time, the Weasleys don’t return from Bill and Fleur’s early, Ron doesn’t come home from the Grangers and go informant, and about a thousand other worst case scenarios Harry’s too tired to dream up.
Despite his inner turmoil, Harry does manage to grind out a strangled, “Right.”
Ever knowing, Ginny smiles and reaches her hand toward him. “I’ll protect you from any angry Weasleys that may or may not cross our path come tomorrow afternoon.”
“Now, shall we? I saw the beginnings of a cute little artsy festival of sorts. Plus I’ll be hungry again soon,” Ginny says with a grin and pulls him toward the door.
The rest of the afternoon is spent in a glorious haze of lightness like Harry’s only ever really known when Ginny’s by his side. The art walk feature a broad spectrum of quality, anywhere from ‘amazing why is this person famous’ to ‘oh wait that’s not a piece of garbage.’
They buy a photo frame for Molly and Arthur made from reclaimed driftwood and when Ginny’s looking the other way he buys her a crystal blue necklace made from seaglass.
Instead of dinner, they gorge themselves on delicious fried snacks and treats sold from carts spread throughout the festival stands and soon they’re stumbling back to their room giddy with a day spent in the sun.
As the door slips shut with a snick and suddenly everything feels very…real.
Ginny’s eyes find his, her hands still resting at his sides that still ache with the laughter that carried them up spindly stairs. Her grin is soft, teasing. “So.”
He leans closer, holding his breath. “So.”
And then their lips meet, slow and teasing and them . Ginny’s sharp intake of breath when his palms slip beneath the hem of her t-shirt draws him in closer, deeper and they somehow stumble back toward the freshly plumped bed. Springs creak beneath them as Ginny’s teeth nip at his lower lip teasingly. “A bit noisy, eh?”
“We best be careful or we’ll start,” Ginny cuts his sentence off with a heated kiss and pulls back to glance at him, “A scandal?”
“Imagine what Tom and Cynthia would say,” Harry says with a laugh as Ginny abandons her perch above him and falls to the side with another groan of the mattress.
“Harry - I. I’m just so - ”
His eyes crinkle as his smile mirrors hers. “Happy?”
She nods and presses a kiss to his palm. “Yeah.”
Despite the pull of hormonal urges, they eventually give up on their lazy snogging session and drift off to sleep, Ginny tucked close against Harry’s chest.
Sunlight wakes them in the morning, bright and early enough that Cynthia’s scones are freshly pulled from the oven. By the time their leisurely breakfast comes to a close, Earl turns up with Harry’s fully functional car, true to his word.
It takes a bit of clever bending of the truth to avoid Earl’s questions about some ‘unexplainable magic’ that seemed to hold parts of the car together, but soon enough they’re trundling back toward Ottery St. Catchpole with the windows rolled back and the stereo on blast.
Before long, they’re driving up the gravel drive and the previous night’s urges returned in full force about three junctions ago when Ginny’s wailing along with the radio dropped - along with her teasing hand.
While innocent enough, Harry’s not a robot and having his girlfriend’s freckled fingers gripping his knee just tight enough to keep him highly aware.
She keeps him close as they make their way into the house, his arm banded around her middle while she releases the locks and draws them into the kitchen. Just before their lips meet, a throat clears.
George is grinning over the rim of his mug, hair unkempt and eyes lighter, happier than they’ve been in a long time. “Morning lovebirds.”
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