them apples.
Here's Ginny and Harry attending a big old party Tilly holds as a grand opening for her shop soon after their relationship hits the press.
A big bloke approaches them.
Ginny grabs his shoulder, forcing the giant down so she can give him a kiss on the cheek. He accepts this with patience and a vague sense of being bullied.
Ginny tugs him around to face Harry. “You know Harry?”
“I know of him,” he says, holding out a hand. “Tristram Bassenthwaite.”
Harry shakes his hand, remembering him well enough. “Hi.” He pauses, looking around. “Nice party.”
Bassenthwaite laughs. “Yeah. Amazing. Tilly and I really appreciate you coming though. It’ll definitely help with with the press and all.”
“We’re happy to do it,” Harry says, mostly because it seems the right thing to say. And he had agreed to it, as mental as it seems now.
Ginny’s the one who gives Bassenthwaite a narrow-eyed look. “And how’d Tilly rope you into coming?” she asks.
Bassenthwaite grimaces, pulling a face. “She said if we were going to be partners, it was all or nothing. She also threatened to invite my parents over for dinner if I didn’t.”
Ginny mock shudders. “That would do it.” She glances around the room, at least a dozen people turning away just as she looks at them. “How unbearable is everyone being?”
Harry wonders if he’s imagining the wide swath of space around Bassenthwaite. At first Harry thought everyone was staring at him. But maybe it’s something else entirely? These are all Bassenthwaite’s friends, aren’t they? And he is the owner of this shop.
Bassenthwaite waves a giant hand dismissively. “Oh, those who actually deign to speak with me are all full of pity, concern, and vapid excuses for not visiting me a single time in the last two years. The others are still just firmly pretending I died.”
Ginny’s face takes on the sort of icy determination that heralds both disaster and probably something Harry will find devastatingly attractive. She glances at Harry. “Will you be alright for a bit, Harry? Because I need to remind some assholes just whose bloody booze they are drinking.”
Harry nods, not completely certain he’s actually going to be okay in this blood thirsty crowd of peacocks, but he’s certainly not going to admit that to Ginny.
He thinks she sees a bit of it anyway, considering she lifts up and kisses him, right there in front of everyone before taking Bassenthwaite’s arm and dragging him off.
Harry can vaguely hear him asking if they really have to do this and Ginny saying that yes they bloody well have to before they step out onto the dance floor together. Harry takes a moment to admire the way Ginny’s dress shimmers in the light as she moves.
Around Harry, people are definitely talking about what Ginny’s doing, but after a while, Harry feels more and more eyes on him. Like he’s supposed to care that Ginny is dancing with Bassenthwaite?
Only then he realizes it’s something else entirely.
“Potter.”
Harry turns, and looks up at Sean Thompson, the git having the gall to have a few inches on him. “Thompson,” he says, voice even.
Harry bites back a rather sarcastic reposte about who exactly is having fantasies now, but everyone is clearly watching, waiting for something exciting to happen, and Ginny isn’t something to be fought over. She makes her own decisions.
“How’s the broom business?” Harry tries, wondering how much longer this stupid song Ginny’s dancing to can last.
Thompson gives him a look like he’s completely mental. “Did you wonder if it was true?”
“What?” Harry asks, startled by his tone as much as the blunt question.
“What the papers said.”
About Thompson and Ginny, Harry realizes. Their supposed torrid affair right under Harry's nose.
“No,” Harry says. “Not even for a second.”
It’s cruel to say maybe, but it’s also the truth.
Only Thompson doesn’t bristle. Instead, he just nods. “Good. Because if you had, you don’t deserve her.”
Harry blinks, aware of Ginny joining them then, slipping in next to Harry, her hand tucking into his elbow.
They all talk for a while, about brooms. Or whatever. It’s all very calm and polite and drags on long enough for most people to grow bored waiting for a scene that clearly isn’t going to happen. Harry can see Ginny’s done this on purpose too and he’s exhausted just thinking about all the things she’s doing at once to manage this party that feels more and more like a battle.
Once Thompson finally fucks off, Ginny smiles up at Harry. “Are we having fun yet?”
Harry can’t help but laugh. “Yeah,” he says, turning his face to press into the top of her head. “Loads.”
