Pumpkin Juice at the Taj Mahal
The bright morning sunlight seeped through Ginny's delicate eyelids, forcing her from her dream. She squinted her luxurious copper lashes together and grasped at the tangled remnants, but they fled like a unicorn in the forest.
With a moue of irritation on her face and a noise of disappointment in her throat, Ginny clutched her stuffed Harry doll and opened her deep chocolate-brown eyes. "If only, just once, I could finish that dream," she sighed. "Just once, I'd like to find out what happens after Harry kisses me. His lips are so soft, and his arms are so strong. I just bet we ride off into the sunset."
A knock on the door interrupted Ginny's longing. "Ginny, time to get up, dear. Harry and Hermione are coming this morning, and we're going to Diagon Alley to get your school supplies," Ginny's mum gushed. "Aren't you so excited to be starting your fourth year?" With a creak and a thump, Mrs. Weasley went back downstairs.
"Oh, Harry's coming today?!" Ginny was up in a flash, tearing the white eyelet comforter from the bed, although she was careful to tuck her darling Harry carefully beneath the covers. Ginny knew exactly what she wanted to wear, as she had been planning for exactly twelve weeks and three days – exactly the time since she had last seen Harry. Grabbing her yellow sundress with the darling ruffled sleeves, she ran to the bathroom.
Precisely twelve minutes later Ginny was downstairs, her face newly scrubbed, her hair freshly plaited, and the yellow sundress swishing about her knees. She'd even put on just a touch of strawberry-flavored lip gloss for the occasion.
"Here, love," Mrs. Weasley bustled about the kitchen, "have some toast."
Ginny took the plate from her mother, but instead of sitting down went to the window to watch for Harry.
A lot of bouncing and three very small bites of toast later, so as not to muss her lip gloss, Ginny squealed as Charlie and Harry rode their brooms into the yard, Harry's trunk hitched to Charlie's broom. Had Harry grown?
Ginny tore out of the house, dropping the plate to shatter all over the floor, and came to a breathless halt a few steps in front of the equally breathless Harry. For an eternal moment, they stared at each other.
"Uh, hi, Ginny," Harry's voice had deepened over the summer into a smooth baritone. Ginny felt her stomach flutter like the butterflies she loved to chase across the yard.
Another endless moment passed –
["Great blue balls, what is this shite?"
"What is this buggering slop you're writing?"
"There's a new H/G archive. I'm writing a story for it."
"So I take it I have to be involved somehow? I can't just faff off to have drunken sex with Blaise? That's really how I planned to spend my day, you cunt. Not waking up with bloody gooey Harry thoughts and acting like a silly bint."
"Uh, is that what you normally do?"
"It's what I'd prefer to do. Honestly, don't you think I'm over him and his I-have-to-save-the-world complex by now?"
"Well...I suppose you might be, but I have to pair you with Harry. That's the point of the archive. As far as I know, there is no B/G archive."
"Well that's just bloody, freaking swell. Do I have to be such a fucking childish my-heart's-all-aflutter brat?"
"That's the way you and Harry are usually written. I assume yes."
"Complete with ugly sunshiney sundress?"
"Uh, I thought you would look horrid in pink. You usually come in pink."
"Ugh. They both suck donkey cock. And the Harry doll? You really thought a Harry doll was a good plan? Did I make the bloody thing myself?"
"I had just used 'unicorn' the paragraph before for the simile. I couldn't give you a goddamn unicorn. And, actually, you begged your mother to make it for you."
"This bloody sucks. I hate Harry."
"I can't help that. Now would you please cooperate? I don't have all day, you know. I'm supposed to be working. Go back to staring into Harry's eyes."]
Another endless moment passed, while Ginny drowned in Harry's emerald pools, and Harry swayed on his feet. Ginny thought she could spend a year or two, just staring at Harry's glorious green orbs.
"Harry, where do you want this, mate? Ron's room?" Charlie was smirking, and had hold of one end of Harry's trunk.
"Uh, yeah, that'd be great, Charlie," Harry reluctantly turned to help Charlie with the trunk, glancing back at Ginny every few steps.
Ginny watched Harry and Charlie carry the trunk across the lawn, taking careful stock of the way Harry's new biceps strained under his thin T-shirt. "Oh," she mused, "to be carried off by those arms. We'd have pot roast in Paris and spotted dick in Rome and pumpkin juice in front of the Taj Mahal at midnight. It'd be so romantic."
Ginny slowly followed Charlie and Harry into the house, pondering where she and Harry would eat toast.
As soon as Ginny entered the Burrow, she could hear Harry and Ron laughing upstairs. "Oh," she said, twisting the hem of her sundress, "I guess he'd rather hang out with Ron than me." But as she was turning away to tell her despair to the daisies, she heard Harry from upstairs.
"No, honestly, Ron. Ginny's gorgeous. What happened to her?"
"She just grew up, I guess. I dunno, she looks the same to me."
"No way, Ron. She didn't look anything like that last year. I just want to scoop her up and carry her off on my broom and pick her wildflowers."
"Uh, Harry, are you okay? Did Charlie dump you off your broom or something?"
"No, Ron, I swear! I want to spend hours running my hands through the fire that is her hair, and spend days holding her sweet hand that is so much like the finest bone china, and spend years making her happy by giving her babies and not making her work or think!"
"Uh, sure, Harry. I don't care." Ron shrugged. "As soon as Hermione gets here, I'm just going to spend the rest of the day shagging anyway."
Ginny hugged herself with delight. Harry liked her, and he wanted all the things that she wanted. Oh, it was so wonderful to be adored by a hero!
At just that moment, Ginny heard a door slam, and saw a streak of orangish light whiz by her. She didn't have to wonder long, however, as Hermione's hearty "Oh, Ron!" echoed through the hallway. Ginny wandered to the still-open door, and watched, sighing in envy, as Hermione and Ron held hands while the Grangers drove off down the road. She then watched in confusion as Ron and Hermione plastered themselves to each other like someone had charmed them there. She was about to assist them, assuming from their moans and cries that they had been charmed together and were attempting, unsuccessfully, to break the charm, when she felt a hand on her arm.
"I'd never do that to you, Ginny," Harry's emerald orbs radiated sincerity. "You're too pure."
"Oh, Harry, that's so sweet." Ginny sighed, not really understanding, but feeling a blush creep up from the demure neckline of the sundress nonetheless.
Suddenly, Harry dropped to one knee –
["No freaking way."
"No freaking way. Absolutely no fucking way on this earth. I refuse to be a part of this tripe."
"What are you talking about?"
"We are not going to get engaged. That's terrible writing, terrible characterization, terrible storytelling. No freaking way."
"But...but that's how it always happens."
"Not in the real world, you idiot."
"I'm confused. People have been writing you this way for years. Harry always sees you after a summer off, and falls madly in love with you. Then you get married right away, and have lots of babies. It's practically canon!"
"Absolutely not, I tell you. Anyone who writes that crap shouldn't be writing. Love at first sight, babies and marriage at fourteen, drowning in each other's eyes? Excuse me while I retch."
"You know, I'm putting my foot down. You're fourteen, what do you know? Shut up."
"No. This is how it's done. This is how it's always done. And this is how I'm writing it. That's final.]
Suddenly, Harry dropped to one knee. "Ginny, sweetheart, will you marry me?"
"Oh, Harry." Ginny could feel the tears coursing in rivulets around her dainty cheekbones. "Of course I will."
"I still have to ask your father," Harry said seriously, taking her hand, "but I'm sure he'll say yes. No one could possibly treat you better than I will, Ginny. You'll never have to work, and you'll never have to clean or cook. You can stay home and we'll have lots of babies." Harry's eyes sparkled like the dew on morning grass.
"Oh, Harry, that sounds perfect. It's just what I always dreamed," said Ginny, and giggled as Harry leaned forward to kiss her cheek.
"Go find a white dress, Ginny. We're going to get married! And I'm not waiting for anything!" Harry dropped her hand and strode from the room, his powerful thighs quickly taking him beyond her sight.
Ginny dashed upstairs, and threw open her closet doors. Her Harry doll caught her eye, and she ran over and gave it a huge hug, dashing the tears of joy from her face with the back of her hand. "I'm getting married! I've waited my whole life for this," she jabbered excitedly at the doll. "And it's to Harry, who is just the most perfect, most sweet, most manly-"
Ginny turned to find her mother standing in her doorway, a smile on her face. "I hear we're to have a wedding."
Ginny threw herself, doll and all, into her mother's arms, "Oh, Mum, it's so wonderful. Harry loves me, and he wants to have babies with me, and we'll have pumpkin juice in front of the Taj Mahal, and..."
"Oh, love, I'm so proud of you. A husband as wonderful as Harry, and you just fourteen." Mrs. Weasley hugged Ginny in delight. "Now, we have to find you a dress, and quickly. Harry insisted that you get married today!"
In a whirlwind that only mothers can create, Ginny soon found herself wearing a dress magicked out of her comforter. It was a complicated concoction, with a full train and a bustle and all the bows she had ever wanted. Her full veil covered her limpid brown eyes and her sunset hair, and her white gloves protected her dainty hands. She barely had time to ask where Ron and Hermione were – shagging in Ron's room, a proud Mr. Weasley told her – before she found herself standing in front of a cleric with Harry in the Weasley family living room.
"I love you, Virginia Suzanne," Harry smiled down –
["What the fuck? I can't take it. I quit. I'm done. No bloody way."
"We conveniently fall in love at first sight, we magically get engaged the same day, my parents are bloody proud of it, and you just named me Virginia fucking Suzanne."
"Yes, it's practically a requirement. Every single goddamn rendering of you is a Ginny Sue."
"Not this one, babe. I'm through. Harry can go shag Ron and Hermione, because I'm outta here."
"Not a chance."
"I love you, Virginia Suzanne," Harry smiled down at Ginny. But just at that instant, Blaise Zabini slammed into the Weasleys' living room, leather everywhere, wearing a dangerous smile.
"Actually, bloke, I think Ginny would rather be with me." With that, Blaise ripped the white froth off Ginny to reveal a somewhat startling ensemble of skimpy vinyl.
And Ginny and Blaise rode off in the bright morning sunshine to have grand drunken sex, while Ron and Hermione consoled Harry the only way they knew how – successive blow jobs.
Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were somewhat disappointed, but they consoled themselves with the fact that, at the rate Ron and Hermione – and the newly included Harry – were going, they would have grandbabies soon enough.
***the bloody buggering end***