I have posted chapter 10 of my @mdzsbigbang fic Tether. This chapter comes with lovely art from the amazing @alightbuthappypen! (How did I get so lucky to get so many pieces for this fic?!)
So who remembers the Four Seasons Landscaping press conference debacle of November 7th, 2020? You know, the one held across the street from the sex shop. And the endless memes after of “imagine your OTP: who owns the landscaping company and who owns the sex shop”?
Well, yeah, I wrote this thing for it a long while back. And yes, of course I made Harry work at the sex shop and Ginny at the landscaping company. Decided I should just schedule it to post on the next November 7th. Enjoy!
Come Again
(Harry/Ginny, meet-cute, Harry works at a sex shop, bad flirting, Ginny’s into it anyway, non-magic world, Teen, no content warnings. Other than, you know, sex shop inventory!)
Harry glances up from his magazine at the sound of the shop door opening. He cursorily looks over the customer—young woman, mid-twenties, red hair, short, athletic build—before returning his attention to the magazine. He’s noticed most customers don’t particularly like the feeling of being watched. Some people flee immediately upon catching him watching them. Especially women.
Sure enough, out of the corner of his eye, he can see her slip down the aisle furthest from the cashier counter, the one full of costumes and larger objects far too difficult for anyone to steal.
“Harry?”
He looks over at Tara near the breakroom at the back where she’s pulling on her coat. “Are you off?” he asks.
“Yeah,” she says, swinging her purse over her shoulder. “Are you sure it’s okay if I take Tuesday morning off?” She’s biting at her lower lip, as thinking his offer was somehow a trap. He wonders what kind of shit she had to put up with at her last job. Or it could just be him. Maybe she’s still trying to get used to him as their manager or something.
“Yes,” he says, forcing his voice patient. “Go get your tooth looked at. I’ll cover the shift, no problem.”
“Thank you,” she says in a rush. She glances over, catching sight of the ginger. “Want me to cover this one before I go?”
“I’ve got it,” he says, and it occurs to him that maybe she’s more nervous about leaving him to do the shift on his own than she is that he’s going to get mad at her for taking the time off.
He’d be offended by that if he hadn’t spent the last three weeks completely in over his head. But he’s starting to get the hang of it now.
Tara waves and leaves out the back.
“So you’re the owner then? You don’t look like a Luna.”
He turns to find the customer standing in front of him. He glances at the big sign out front declaring this store as Luna’s sex toys and more store.
“What? Oh,” he says. “No. I’m just filling in for her for a few months. She’s out on maternity leave. Twins.”
“Ah, so you’re just the understudy,” she says.
“Something like that.”
Pull yourself together, Potter.
“Then you’re…” She waves a finger around in a circle, encompassing the whole store. “In the business?”
He laughs. “No.” He realizes a moment too late how bad that sounded, and rushes on. “She was going to have to shut the shop down or cut her time home, but I’m between careers at the moment, so I figured I could cover for her.” He has no idea why he is spilling his life story out at her, and he considers that maybe Tara had seen what he hadn’t when she’d been so reluctant to leave him on his own. “It’s been a bit of a learning curve, I admit. Though mostly it seems to be about putting customers in categories and treating them accordingly.”
Her eyes narrow, as if sensing an insult towards the kind of people who might come to a shop like this. “Meaning what, exactly?”
“No,” he says, desperately trying to backpedal. “It’s just… Look. It’s like setting expectations? There’s people who come for joke gifts, the people who pretend they are here for joke gifts because they are too embarrassed to want to buy something, the people who know exactly what they want and get right to it, and the people who are here because of rebounds. Each kind of person would prefer to be treated differently: ignored, helped, given stern looks. So it’s just about figuring out which kind of customer they are, so I can make this easiest for them.”
The customer is now frowning at him. “You know that still sounds kind of creepy, even if it makes sense.”
“Studying people is kind of my thing.”
She only looks more alarmed.
“Not in a creepy stalker way! Or in a ‘I want to draw your picture’ way. I was a profiler. You know, criminals?”
“Ah, so now the customers are criminals.”
He would think he just can’t win with this maniacal customer, but she was smiling now, clearly teasing him. “Only if you try to walk off with Gary shoved down your shirt,” he gamely replies.
She turns to follow his gesture, letting out a low laugh at the sight of an enormous oversized novelty cock with a face on the tip. It’s not a ‘I’m nervous and about to break down into a fit of giggles’ laugh either, so Harry is pretty sure this is a customer who won’t mind being offered help.
“So is there anything in particular I can help you find?” he asks.
“You tell me.”
Said in any other tone, that might sound like a come on, but it was more challenging than coy. “Excuse me?” he asks.
“Am I here for a joke gift? Profile me.”
He looks her over, eyes lingering on the details. A new sweater (he could see the strip where the sticker had been removed very recently). Her hair looked freshly cut, the way she touched it said it was not the length she was used to, maybe having cut it off recently. There was the slightest indentation on her ring finger, a faint tan line.
“You’ve recently broken off a long-term relationship, either started when you were both very young, with someone who likes vanilla sex that you found boring, or with someone who was offended by the idea of you using any toys because it felt like cheating and made you get rid of them.”
She stares back at him, eyes wide.
He said it all without thinking, really, just speaking as it came to him, these thoughts about who she was that he might come up with about a case.
“Sorry,” he says, certain he’s just cost Luna a customer. “I’m sure I’m way off.”
“No,” she says, “you’re annoyingly on-point.”
He winces, realizing that’s probably even worse.
Definitely time to try to make a tactful retreat, if at all possible. But before he can back away, she’s speaking again.
“I used to have a Shibari before he made me toss it. Any thoughts on what might be like that? Only better. And bigger. Longer battery life.”
“Uh,” he says, floundering for a moment. Then he walks over to a shelf, pointing at a slim lavender-colored wand vibrator. “I can tell you the mini halo is really popular. But Luna always says it depends on what you’re looking for, not what other people want.”
Her eyebrow lifts, and it occurs to him that he has basically just asked for detail about her sex life. Yup. It’s possible he’s out of his element. He ends up texting Luna, for some reason not wanting to lead this particular customer astray. Not just because she seems pretty great. She deserves to get what she wants after all! Everyone does!
Getting tired of the back and forth, the customer eventually just grabs his phone and texts Luna directly, debating the finer points of the Soul Sucker. The woman’s smile—stupidly lovely, really—No, not appropriate, Harry!—is wider and wider as she gets into a really long exchange with Luna. Ending with a gasp of adoration when Luna apparently texts a picture of her sons.
The text exchange eventually dies down, the customer giving Harry a bald, assessing look.
“What?” he asks, refusing to shift back and forth on his feet, reminding himself of his long career as a criminal investigator—which would mean more if he hadn’t burned out and left with no real plans for anything else he’s going to do instead. Other than manage a sex toy store, apparently.
“She wants to know how you’re doing,” the woman asks. Her eyes narrow as she studies him a bit longer, and, shit, she should consider a career as an interrogator. She nods her head, like coming to a decision and then starts typing away again, this time narrating as she does. “Approachable, only slightly creepy, blushes at a minimum, non-judgmental, but needs an education.”
He lets out a startled laugh, not offended in the least. Actually a better rating than he’d expect. “Trust me, every day in this shop is an education.”
Her eyebrow lifts. “I can only imagine.” She hands his phone back and sweeps up the Soul Sucker and the mini halo too.
Harry helpfully points out the displays of various lubes, letting her head over there by herself as he steps back behind the counter.
A guy comes in then, picking up a pre-order which is thankfully much more straight forward, a package already put together by Tara before she left.
By the time he’s done ringing him up, the woman has made her final selections, putting them down on the counter. He scans each one, slipping them into a bag without looking at them. Not his business!
“And with the five percent break up discount, that comes to….”
“Discount?” she asks. “I don’t need your pity.”
“What?” he asks, feeling like he’s messed up yet another thing. “No, seriously. It’s a thing.” He flips the card with five different set barcodes on it, handing it over to her.
You’re better off without them! – 5%
Never too late to figure out what you like! – 5%
Congrats on embracing your sexual identity! – 5%
You’re a few bucks short, but still deserve joy – 5%
She looks at him in surprise.
He shrugs. “Luna.”
She seems to relax then. “Which one am I getting?”
“Does it matter?” he asks.
She lets out a huff. “Guess not.” She hands over a credit card and he really does his best not to look at her name or anything, but it is sort of a part of credit safety? Or something?
Ginny Weasley. Is her name. It sounds vaguely familiar, though he can’t quite place it.
She signs the receipt, and he passes over the bag. “Have a nice day,” he says, almost automatically.
“Oh, I’d better,” she says, lifting the bag.
He really tries not to blush. He really does. Professional, Potter. Real professional.
Only then she’s giving him a wink and walking towards the door. “Let me know if you ever need help with landscaping,” she says, “so I can return the favor.”
Harry pauses at the strange words, frowning, resisting the urge to look down at his body.
She’s definitely laughing at him now. “The landscaping company next door? Weasley’s Landscaping? It’s where I work. The family business.”
“Oh,” Harry says with a sudden rush of understanding. She works right next door. Where he will likely see her. Again. Quite often. “Right. I definitely will.”
“Great. See you around.”
He can’t help grinning. “Come again!” he calls out after her.
He can hear her laughter as the door shuts behind her.
It takes Harry a while to realize he’s humming as he starts taking stock of the strap-ons inventory.
Uh, yeah. I really fell off my posting schedule there. Trying not to let the guilt bog me down on that one too much! The truth is that when I started posting the fic, I had like 14 or 15 chapters completely done already and I was like, no problem! That's months until I run out, I will definitely keep up.
Narrator voice: she did not, in fact, keep up
I lengthened the time between updates when I first realized I was in trouble in an attempt to stave this off, but alas, I still failed to make my posting deadline last week. Primarily thanks to a potent miasma of lack of time, lack of motivation, overabundance of the head games our inner critics like to play with us, and a dash of despair.
BUT! Progress has been made, inner critics have been stomped upon, a couple chapters have been wrested into rough draft, and I have hopes of resuming posting some time soon. I think I will avoid painting myself into another corner by saying when though.
Thanks for enjoying the fic enough to care one way or the other. It really does help a lot!
Helloooo, love your work :) a while ago, you had posted the nsfw sequel to “you don’t have to stay” on your tumblr…I tried searching for it but not able to find it… do you mind posting it again?
It is reblogged right in the original post! You can read it here.
the ice-skating ring is full of fumbling people, but Ginny finds one person in extra need of help
Hot Dad is back again, Ginny texts Demelza.
Putting down her phone, she sells a round of tickets to a loud group of teenagers, passing them off to Stephanie to get them set up with skates. Their cheeks are all red with the cold evening air, the sun having just dipped behind the buildings. Mariah Carey is crooning about Christmas over the slightly staticky speakers. It’s all perfectly cheery and lovely, and even Ginny can’t help but smile at it, this season long having been a favorite of hers, no matter how old she gets.
Which probably explains how after working full days, she still lets herself get dragged into volunteering at the seasonal outdoor ice-skating rink set up in the old city center as a way to earn money for various local charities. She’s an easy mark, which her friend running the event never fails to capitalize on.
The obvious first-date skaters are the best in the evenings, the romanticism of the idea wearing off real quick the first time one of them knocks the other down and their asses get real familiar with the unforgiving ice. Ginny likes the look on their faces when she offers them one of the walkers little kids use sometimes.
Her phone buzzes with Demelza’s response.
Okay either bang him or stop texting me because this is pathetic and you know it.
Ginny sighs. I imagine his exceptionally beautiful wife would have a problem with that.
The wife you have no idea if exists or not? Seriously, I don’t have time for this. You’re cut off talking about this.
I need a new friend.
Ha! Good luck with that.
Ginny tosses her phone down in disgust. The worst part is that Demelza is right. This is beneath her dignity. But Hot Dad has been here with his son the last four nights straight, and selling tickets and collecting used equipment isn’t all that engrossing, especially considering Ginny is one of dozens of volunteers. Meaning she has a lot of time to stare and let her imagination get away with her. And her imagination’s favorite subject these days is Hot Dad. Once again here tormenting her as he wobbles around the rink with his son.
She can’t really tell how old he is, a knit beanie always pulled low over his head and a beard covering his face. He’s got glasses too. None of which makes it hard to see how attractive he is. (One time he forgot his scarf and she nearly had to take a break when he laughed at his son and the tendons in his neck stood out as he threw his head back and she thought how lick-able it looked.) He’s on the lanky side, which on skates occasionally makes him look like a newborn wobbly-legged foal, and even that is somehow charming.
Or Ginny is just really hard up and needs to get a life. Which is what Demelza loves to say. Also that Ginny is a workaholic. And sure, it’s been a hot minute since her last date. She just has a lot going on right now. Besides, this guy is definitely more than likely married.
So instead, she is going to happily, harmlessly ogle Hot Dad while he stumbles around the rink with his son, who has shown little to no improvement over the last week. In fact, if possible, they both seem to be getting worse.
Fifteen minutes later, Hot Dad nearly takes out a pair of teenaged girls, blocking the entire flow of skaters as he stops to thoroughly apologize while his son stands nearby and nearly laughs himself down onto the ice. And then actually goes down onto the ice.
Jesus.
Talk about the blind leading the blind. They’re going to cause a pile-up, she tells herself. It’s the only reason she grabs a pair of skates and heads over to help.
Really.
“Excuse me,” she says as she approaches.
He looks up and, shit, his eyes are like the most intense green she’s ever seen, and also, he’s definitely younger than she first thought, closer to her own age. But also young enough that he must have been Hot Young Teen Dad when his kid was born. But still just as hot as she imagined him to be.
Dammit.
“Not that I don’t admire your persistence,” she says, helping the kid to his feet, “but you two are rapidly becoming a hazard.”
Hot Dad straightens his glasses, looking sheepish. “We definitely are. But it’s an emergency, I’m afraid.”
“An emergency?” Ginny asks, trying to ignore the thrill of finally hearing his voice for the first time. And what a nice voice it is.
He grins. “Ted’s trying to impress a girl.”
“Harry!” the kid shrieks, looking mortified.
Ginny blinks, both cataloging Hot Dad’s name—Harry—and noticing the strange use of it by his son. Maybe he’s in that rebellious teenage phase where he calls his parents by their first names?
He’s still wearing gloves, dammit. Not that it matters. She doesn’t have time for Hot Maybe Married Dad right now.
Really.
“And you’re somehow supposed to help with that?” she shoots back before she can think better of it.
But rather than looking offended, Hot Dad—Harry—just grins back at her. “A hopeless case, I suppose.”
“Depends on how this is meant to impress a girl.”
“He’s going to ask her out for the first time,” Harry says, smiling at his son as Ted looks even more mortified.
“To go ice skating,” Ginny surmises. “Have you considered the movies, or frozen yogurt or, I dunno, anything not on ice?”
Ted shakes his head, looking earnest in the way only a young teen can. “It has to be ice skating.”
Ginny sighs. “I suppose I could give you some pointers. At least keep you from being a total disgrace.”
The kid gives her a dubious look. “You think you could?”
Oh, now it’s on. “You doubt me?” she asks, pushing back on her skates. Without another word, she does a quick tick around the circle, doing the second half backwards. With a quick spin, she comes to stop in front of them at the last possible moment in a showy shower of ice shavings.
Harry looks impressed, eyebrows lifted. “Were you a skater?”
“Hockey,” she says succinctly, used to people making assumptions. Then again, she’s hardly a delicate thing to be twirling around in tutus. Not that she couldn’t if she wanted to, thank you very much. But she’s more into smacking people with sticks than doing toe loops.
“I think this is your best hope, Ted,” Harry says. “The ice angels have smiled down on you.”
Ginny bites back the urge to clarify that she is in no way an angel and would be happy to prove it to him. Instead, she focuses on the kid, who she can’t look down on all that much considering he’s nearly at her height already.
“What do you say?”
Ted lets out a breath. “Please.”
She smiles. “Okay. But before we start, I need to know one thing. This girl you’re asking out. What are you going to do if she says no?”
His eyes widen, giving Harry a panicked look. “Oh, god. Is she going to say no?”
He pats his shoulder. “I think she’s more trying to make sure you aren’t going to use her powers for evil.”
“Pretty much,” Ginny says.
“I don’t understand,” Ted says, brow furrowed.
Ah, the innocence of youth.
“For example.” Harry turns towards Ginny. “I don’t think I got your name?”
“Ginny,” she says, trying to ignore the quiver she feels as his gaze falls intently on her.
He smiles, holding out his hand. She slips her gloved hand into his, shaking firmly. “Nice to meet you, Ginny. I’m Harry.”
“Hello, Harry,” she says, their hands still clasped between them.
He places his other hand on the back of hers, the gesture somehow endearing even as it’s terribly old-fashioned. “Would you go to dinner with me?”
She nearly blurts out a yes before remembering that they are playacting. And he’s probably married. And they’re standing in front of his son. “Sorry,” she says. “Dating customers is against the rules.”
Harry smiles at her—fuck, that is not okay. “Okay,” he says, letting go of her hand. “Sorry if I bothered you. I hope you have a great day.”
“You, too,” she says.
Harry turns back to his son. “There you go.”
“But that wasn’t a no,” Teddy points out.
“Yeah,” Harry says. “It was. If someone wants to go out with us, they’ll say yes. She doesn’t have to explain why or justify it. Plus, do you really want to go out with someone you had to convince?”
Okay, and now Ginny is not just lusting after him, but a little bit in love with the asshole too.
“No,” Ted says, frowning. “I guess not. But what would you do now?”
Harry puts a hand to his chest like he’s nursing a painful wound. “We slink back to our caves like men, feel sorry for ourselves for a little bit, and then pretend it never happened. And definitely don’t ask again.”
“But she’s at my school! I’ll see her every day. Won’t that be weird?”
Ginny expects a pep talk, don’t worry, of course she’ll say yes, but instead Harry slings an arm over Ted’s shoulders. “It might be weird for a while, I admit. But don’t be a pain in the ass and you’ll both get over it. Of course, she might also say yes. Is the potential weirdness and embarrassment worth the chance that she might say yes?”
A look of determination crosses his features. “Yeah,” he says, nodding. “It’s worth her maybe saying no, if it means she might also say yes.”
“Well then, I think you have your answer.”
And now Ginny is pretty much fully in love with him. Ugh, her life is the worst.
“Come on,” she says, gesturing for Ted to come closer. “Let’s try a few rounds.”
She spends the next fifteen minutes giving him a few key pointers, enough that he’s not a complete hazard, but he’s still a long way from dating form. For one, the kid appears to have two left feet. Which, once he warms up to her a bit (and informs her that he much prefers to go by Teddy), his clumsiness pales in comparison to his general politeness and wicked sense of humor. She’s not sure what he’d say if she said those were going to go a lot further for him than his ice-skating skills.
They eventually come back to a stop next to Harry where he waits against the wall off to one side. They’ve just made it when Teddy careens over and nearly face plants into the ice. Harry reaches out for him, only to almost lose his own footing.
What a pair, Ginny thinks, not even bothering to hold back her laughter.
“Your son seems to have inherited your clumsiness,” she says once they are all steadily on their feet again.
Harry laughs, beaming at Teddy, but the kid just lets out a dismissive sound. “He’s not my dad. As if.”
“You could only be so lucky,” Harry says, ruffling the kid’s hair. “Remus may be smarter than me, but I am far better at pretty much anything requiring coordination.”
“That remains to be seen,” Ginny says, Teddy letting out an appreciative laugh.
Harry lifts an eyebrow, like maybe she’s twinged his ego. “Ice is not my natural environment.”
“Really,” she drawls. “Then what is your natural environment?”
“Pretty much anything but ice. I’m not picky,” he says, and somehow the unspoken arrogance is attractive.
Ginny tilts her head to the side. “I think I’d need proof to be able to judge that adequately.”
“Would you,” he says, voice lowering.
Fuck, the ice should be melting in here.
They hold each other’s gazes a bit longer than is probably proper, Teddy looking between them.
Ginny gives herself a little shake, turning back to the kid. “So, Teddy. I have some bad news and some good news.”
“Okay,” he says, looking wary.
“The bad news is that winter is likely to end before you master ice skating. I mean, you can keep trying. You’ll get better just through practice. But it’s going to take a while.”
He sighs, apparently not horribly surprised to hear it. “And the good news?”
“Well, why do you want to take this girl ice skating?”
“Because she loves ice skating.”
“Is she good?”
He nods. “She’s really good.”
“There’s your good news. And because I like you, I’ll let you in on a little secret. Tell her you’d like to take her ice skating because you know she likes it so much. And then tell her that you aren’t very good, but you’re willing to try and you’d appreciate it if she’d help you. Basically, what I am saying is don’t try to hide that you aren’t great at this yet. Just focus on enjoying being there with her. Honest is so much better than cool.”
She expects him to fight that, but instead he looks thoughtful, eventually nodding. “Okay.” He turns to Harry. “Can we be done now? My butt is so cold I can’t feel it anymore.”
Harry ruffles his hair again. “Yeah. I’ll take you home.”
Teddy heads off towards the exit, and he has improved at least a little bit, Ginny notices as she follows slightly behind. Harry keeps pace with her, even as he wobbles his way along, never more than an arm’s length from the edge.
“That was some good advice,” he says.
“Well,” Ginny says, “what’s the point of suffering through all that teenage angst if not to try to save the younger generation from repeating your mistakes?”
Harry laughs. “I hear that.”
They sit on the benches, pulling off their skates.
“I can take your skates here,” she says, stepping back behind the counter, ignoring the person already waiting to run this part of the booth.
He hands the skates up over the counter. His gloves are off now and she can see his perfectly naked fingers. Interesting.
“Thanks,” Teddy says.
“Good luck!” she calls out after him.
He waves, heading for the exit.
Harry lingers another moment, pulling his beanie off and revealing dark hair in complete disarray. “I’m realizing I’ve backed myself into a corner,” he says, leaning against the counter.
“How exactly?” she asks.
He drags a hand through his hair. “Because I can’t very well ask you out again without being a hypocrite.”
“Hmm,” she says, nodding solemnly at him. “That is a tricky spot you’ve put yourself in. I suppose sometimes it’s hard to live by our principles.”
He gives her a sad, lopsided smile. “You have no idea.” He pushes back from the counter. “It was nice meeting you, Ginny.”
“You, too, Harry,” she says.
He turns and walks away. Ginny eyes his ass, and, god, it really is a thing of beauty. He doesn’t even look back, and he’s going to do it. He’s really just going to leave her alone.
Amazing.
She counts three long beats before coming around to the other side of the counter and calling out after him. “Harry.”
He stops, turning back to look at her, waiting for her to catch up.
“For the record,” she says, “dinner never would have worked.”
“Sure,” he says, hands in his pockets.
“I already ate, and I’m stuck here until nine,” she says. “How about I buy you a drink instead?”
“You sure?” he says, voice slightly teasing. “Because I’d hate to have a date who had to be convinced.”
“Oh, believe me,” Ginny says. “You don’t need to do any convincing.”
He looks delighted, a smile lighting up his face, and Ginny is still having a hard time believing he’s real. “I’ll swing back around at nine them.”
She nods. “Looking forward to seeing you in your natural environment,” she drawls, giving him a wink.
He almost immediately nearly bumps into a trash can.
She lifts an eyebrow at him, but he just shakes his head. “Still shaking off the ice-skating legs.”
“Of course,” she says.
“Harry!” Teddy shouts from the exit.
“Coming!” Harry yells back. He looks at her. “Nine.”
She nods. “Nine.”
Giving her one last lingering look, he turns, giving her a great view as he walks away. Once out on the sidewalk, she can see Harry wrap his arm around Teddy’s neck, giving him a playful noogie as the kid fights him off.
Ginny smiles, watching them disappear before heading back to her station.
Back behind the counter, she picks up her phone, pulling up her conversation with Demelza.
Hot dad is not a dad at all, is gloriously single, and I am seeing him at nine tonight.
