All I really want is something beautiful to say [Ginny]

Harry and Ginny's Flat | December 2002

Harry had been thinking of weddings all day—likely because he was at one. He had been attending the wedding of Ginny’s friend and teammate, Morwen, to a daily prophet photographer named Serikbek. The wedding was beautiful, of course. It was very touching, even though Harry wasn’t very familiar with either of them. He had enjoyed dancing with Ginny at the reception, but couldn’t help thinking of the ring that he had left at home. The ring that was meant for Ginny. The whole wedding, he was wondering what his own wedding would be like. Would it be equally grand? He hoped it would be small, just family and a few friends. He didn’t want the entire world there, but he wanted it to be nice. Given that he was Harry Potter and Ginny was a famous quidditch player in her own right, he expected there to be several people who expected and invitation who might not get one. Reporters, for one. Would he trust Serikbek to keep his camera to himself, if they invited Morwen and her new husband? He was sure they’d invite them regardless. After-all, Ginny had been Morwen’s maid of honor—that meant they were close, right? Harry already knew Ron would be his Best Man. He wondered who Ginny would choose…
 
That was assuming she said yes. He had a feeling she would. They had talked about marriage before, always in the distant future, but Harry was ready to get serious now. He didn’t want there to be another chance for them to break up, like they had before. He wanted them to stay together and be happy. Forever. He had planned a vacation—something he had never taken since he began Auror training—and meant to ask her while they were abroad. They were going to Australia, where it was warm and beachy this time of year. He preferred the warmth and thought Ginny might prefer a summertime vacation as well. He eyed her up as they changed out of their wedding clothes into their night clothes. She was so gorgeous, really. He was super lucky. They had a portkey to catch early in the morning, so Harry was doing some packing. He had grabbed his clothes, toiletries with exception to his toothbrush, which he would grab after his morning brush, shoes… what else did he need?
 
He suddenly remembered the ring. He tried to be stealthy, reaching into his nightstand for the box and trying to look like he was grabbing some more socks. Of course, when he turned around, he tripped and fell, the box moving across the floor and into Ginny’s line of sight. He scrambled up and then attempted to pounce on it, only moving the box closer to Ginny. He hoped she wasn’t looking, but there was a fat chance of that. As it was, he was already on his knees. This wasn’t the way he expected this to go, not at all…

Her heeled shoes dangled loosely in her grasp; with her free hand, Ginny had gathered a handful of her dress as she hobbled up the stairs to their bedroom – content, but thoroughly exhausted. They’d just gotten home from Wen’s wedding – in which she’d been the Maid of Honor – and the entire day of standing in heels had caught up to the Quidditch player. Granted, she’d ditched them almost as soon as the dancing began, but the damage had already been done. She simply wasn’t used to wearing them, and spending the rest of the evening on her feet dancing around certainly hadn’t helped her case. Perhaps she’d soak them for a bit (they were undoubtedly filthy from going barefoot most of the evening, anyways) and demand request that Harry rub her feet and calves for a bit before they turned in for the night. In any case, she couldn’t wait to get ready for bed. Especially because they had an early Portkey…

The very first things that the youngest Weasley did whenever she got home were 1) immediately change out of her day clothes into something comfortable (usually sweats or a casual t-shirt and shorts), and 2) take off all her makeup (if she’d even worn it that day). Tonight was no different: in true Ginny fashion, the second she’d set foot in their bedroom she’d tossed her shoes in the closet, stripped off her dress and laid it over the back of a chair to remind herself to take it in for cleaning, pulled an oversized t-shirt over her head, and padded into the bathroom to wash up – all in a matter of fifteen seconds.

Ginny’s first order of business was to remove what she was confident was an entire boxful of bobby-pins from her thick red mane – did being in the bridal party directly equate to having more metal than hair in contact with her scalp?! As though it were yesterday, she recalled the day’s preparations for Bill and Fleur’s wedding; then, too, she’d had handfuls of the infuriating things jabbing the sides of her head in vain attempt to contain her hair. And, in both instances, it had mostly managed to spring free of its constraints within an hour of the reception’s commencement. Ginny may or may not have tossed her head about more aggressively than was necessary while she danced to facilitate the process…

As she worked, she replayed the day’s events in her head. Wen had been stunning, of course, and Beka handsome. The ceremony was really just perfect, and even Ginny – who was infrequently sentimental in a public setting – had been faintly bit misty-eyed as she stood beside her long-time friend and teammate. Ginny’s heart was full for the pair of them; but at the same time she couldn’t help projecting into the future, picturing that it was she in the white dress, hand-in-hand with Harry. Looking back, it was crazy to think that – for several years – Ginny had been nearly convinced this would never have been possible.
Early on it had been ‘the famous Harry Potter would never like me’; which had evolved to ‘I’ll do my own thing and see what happens’; to ‘holy shit we actually have a shot at this’; to ‘will I ever see him alive again?’; to the resulting destabilization and ‘will things ever be quite the same again?’
In any case, she’d long-since decided that this past breakup a few months ago would be their last. It was difficult for two young adults who’d been forced to grow up fast during wartime to find a sense of stability, certainly – but now was the time. They would need to be their own and, just as importantly, each other’s. In her heart of hearts, Ginny felt like they’d finally grasped that understanding, together.

She was preoccupied with disentangling a particularly stubborn pin (somehow it had managed to wedge into another pin and trap a snarled knot of hair in between…) when she heard a considerable clattering and thumping coming from their bedroom. Glancing in the mirror, she could barely see his reflection scrambling around on the ground, closely followed by the sound of something light briefly skidding across the floorboards.

Ginny turned away from the mirror, eyebrow raised, both hands still engaged in the tangled mess of her hair.
“What in the name of Merlin’s saggy left—?”
Her gaze landed immediately on Harry, on his knees and wearing an expression of abject horror. Her forehead creased briefly with confusion, rapidly followed by a wave of concern. Her first panicked thought was that his scar hurt; her stomach dropped like a stone.
“Harry? You alright?”
She took a step toward him, and in so doing her bare toe connected with something small and solid but light, sending it rather forcefully across the floor and mirroring the sound she’d heard just a few seconds before. Instinctively, she glanced down – but before she could properly lay eyes on whatever it was, it had already vanished under the nightstand.

“Whoops,” she muttered, her gaze briefly lifting to meet his. “What was that?”

This was not going to plan at all. Harry was crimson, embarrassed and a little scared. He dived under the nightstand and reached for the ring box. How could he possibly get this out without her noticing? “I.. errr..” He began. “Nothing, it’s nothing.” He promised, a terrible liar. He slid it out slowly and tried to hide it behind his back. He was doing a terrible job, and he knew it. He eventually relented, knowing she wasn’t an idiot and there was no way he could get away with this. He pulled it out in front of him. “Actually, that’s a lie.” He admitted. “I was planning to wait until we were on the trip….” He said, voice trailing off. He was nervous. He touched the back of his neck with his free hand, not quite meeting her eyes.
 
This wasn’t what he imagined. Her hair was wild, he was in his sweatpants. They were tired and beat down from a long day of wedding shenanigans, and it wasn’t the most romantic setting, but he knew he wanted to do it. He might as well do it now. “Ahh—“ He began, popping the box open. He hadn’t finished rehearsing how he was going to do this yet. “I love you, Ginny. I know we’ve had some ups and downs, but I am ready to make sure that never happens again. I want to be with you forever.”
 
He got down on one knee, a little lightheaded, and held the box up to her. “Will you marry me?” He asked, finally looking at her, making eye contact. He knew this wasn’t exactly the way she imagined it, but he wanted this, and there was no time like the present. Despite everything, this felt right. He had never been so cure of anything in his life as he was that she was the one he wanted to spend his life with.
 
He smiled lightly at her, biting his lip as he waited for her response. He wanted to say more, to ramble on and on, but he kept quiet and decided to let her do the talking now. The ball was in her court. He hoped she liked the ring, too.

Watching him, perplexed, Ginny felt a small wave of relief at his albeit strange behavior as he dove under the nightstand and re-emerged. He wouldn’t be blushing if his scar hurt, that was for certain. Had she caught him with something… private? How interesting.

“‘Nothing’, eh?”
She didn’t buy it, – a raised eyebrow in his direction told him as much – but in any case she was fairly certain he already knew. They had been living together long enough that they knew most of each other’s quirks and mannerisms, after all. Ginny secretly delighted in those moments when she was able to read his body language as clearly as if he’d spoken. She loved knowing someone so intimately, and he her. In any other circumstance the youngest Weasley was determinedly invulnerable; but for Harry, all was laid bare.

“I was planning to wait until we were on the trip…” He was avoiding her eyes, and that made her a little nervous.

Until she saw he’d brought something small out from behind his back, cupped between his hands.
As if drawn like a magnet, the redhead’s gaze honed in on the small object, transfixed. Before she could quite process what she was seeing, however, she felt an odd swooping sensation in her stomach – as if the floor had suddenly dropped out from beneath her feet. Somehow, she already knew what it was – precious few things that came in a box that size could make him look so panicked. And once the realization dawned, her pulse exploded, fluttering madly in her throat, and blood roared in her ears.

The universe was suddenly converging on a single point; one that Ginny had surreptitiously hoped for since she was ten years old.

“I love you, Ginny. I know we’ve had some ups and downs, but I am ready to make sure that never happens again. I want to be with you forever.”

He lowered himself to one knee, then, and Ginny felt as though all the breath had been squeezed from her lungs. She’d imagined this day so many times over the years, in so many different settings. But this… it was so fitting. Unapologetically themselves: she in nothing but her underwear and an oversized t-shirt with her red mane half-unpinned, he in sweatpants and an undershirt. No one else around – except, of course, for Kreacher, but he was remarkably considerate, bless him.

It was perfect.

“Will you marry me?”

Her trance broken, she tore her gaze away from the tiny box and the perfect gleaming ring inside, and raised her warm brown eyes to meet his vivid green eyes. Her chest felt as though it might burst with happiness, and she wasn’t entirely certain if she wanted to laugh or cry – or both.

He bit his lip then and she smiled, hers trembling ever so slightly. Ginny reached out and seized him by his shirtfront – conveniently he was still at least partially-clothed – and drew him gently yet firmly to his feet and towards her, close enough that his warm breath tickled her face.
“There will always be ups and downs,” she murmured, closing her eyes and pressing her forehead against his as best she could, given their height differential. Her right hand drifted up to cradle the back of his neck, and she opened her eyes to find his again. “But I certainly don’t plan on letting go of you through any of it, ever again. And there’s no one else I’d rather face them with.”

Ginny wound both arms around his neck, then, collapsing the small amount of space that remained between them such that her mouth was right next to his ear. A few of his unruly hairs tickled her nose.
“Yes,” she breathed, because she didn’t quite trust her voice not to crack if she spoke any louder. As soon as that single word left her lips, she felt warmth flood her veins. “I will.”

She nestled her face in the sensitive spot where the base of his neck met his shoulder, planting a kiss in the hollow of his collarbone before drawing back slightly to look at him, grinning from ear to ear.