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Harry proposes to Ginny accidentally.
Well, not accidentally in that he didn't mean it; they've discussed it a few times within the last year and Harry’s thought about it a lot himself, thought about all the different ways to do it, all the different ways Ginny would like, but accidentally in that he didn't intend for it to slip out one afternoon after they'd both finished training, sweaty and in desperate need of a shower.
“Marry me, Gin,” he says when she does an impression of the referee at their last match together, one that he’d forgotten made him cry with laughter.
Ginny pauses, bent double, face scrunched up, arms wide to convey the poor wizard who shouted himself hoarse, and then pulls herself up, hands on her hips. “Was that your big fancy proposal you’ve been thinking about for months?”
Leaning against the door jamb with his arms folded across his chest, laughter still caught in his throat, you could believe for a second that he didn’t care about the answer, but Harry knows how well Ginny knows him and she knows that inside he’s bursting with that bloody monster rising onto its hind legs, waiting and waiting for her to say yes to his woefully unromantic and incredibly spontaneous proposal.
“That was it,” he says, and grins. “So, what do you say?”
Ginny launches herself into Harry’s arms and kisses him, her arms around his neck when she hugs him close. “Yes, I’ll marry you,” she says into his cheek, pressing a kiss under his eye.
Harry wraps his arms around her waist and kisses her forehead. “Sorry I don’t have a ring.”
Ginny pulls back and beams, her expression contradicting the nonchalance, “Well, we can’t have everything,” and Harry wants to blurt it out all over again.
.
After the hugs and the kisses and the exclamations of joy from Mrs Weasley and varying reactions from the rest of the family, the wedding plans are the main topic of discussion.
“Oh, wouldn’t it be lovely, Ginny, getting married here in the garden,” Mrs Weasley says, dabbing the tears from her eyes. “Wouldn’t it, Arthur?” and Arthur, currently coping well with his only daughter getting engaged, nods his agreement into his hankie.
Ginny glances at Harry, shifts onto the other foot, and Harry can just tell that she wants him to break the news, the golden boy who can do no wrong.
Harry makes a couple of half-arsed pleading gestures, gives up with a sigh when Ginny bats her eyelids and slips her hand into his back pocket. “Well, what we’ve actually talked about for a while, Mrs Weasley --”
“Molly, please, Harry, at the very least, pet.”
“-- what Ginny and I have thought for a while ... Molly, is that we would love a very quiet, intimate wedding, away from all the papers and everything, with just close family --”
“Get on with it,” Ginny whispers.
“ -- In Arran,” he finishes, closes his eyes for the impact of Molly’s disappointment at her daughter getting married outside The Burrow.
But instead he feels her arms come around them both for the second time in as many minutes. “That sounds perfect, dear. Just right.”
.
“That went better than expected, didn’t it?” Ginny mutters to Harry as they wave goodbye to Molly and Arthur across the gate and Apparate back to the flat.
“Your mum wants what we want,” Harry says diplomatically.
“Oh come on, you were expecting her to be disappointed and guilt us into having it at The Burrow.”
“Hey, I’m still on a high from you saying yes,” Harry says, all those too-honest thoughts always slipping out around Ginny.
Ginny looks at him fondly for a beat before she rolls her eyes. “As if I was ever going to say no.”
“You are quite honestly the most unpredictable woman I’ve ever met.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere, babe,” Ginny tells him before hugging him around the waist, head against his chest. “Now come on,” she says, tilting her head up to grin at him. “Isn’t it time we celebrate this engagement?”
.
So they marry two weeks later on the beach at Kildonan, on the coast of Arran.
It’s a beautiful day in the middle of July, the sun high in the sky, a gentle breeze floating over them as Luna plays on an instrument Harry couldn’t even begin to describe and Ginny walks down the aisle towards him.
“I haven’t given you my big brother talk yet,” Ron leans in to whisper.
“Bit late for that, mate,” Harry murmurs, winks at Ginny who sticks out her tongue, waving at her mum.
She takes Harry’s hand and Merlin, how Harry thought he could ever live without her he’ll never know.
Their vows consist of firewhiskey, first thoughts and last thoughts, of being the other half of souls, of being funny in ways no one else gets, of being best friends, and of being so so lucky.
They're pronounced husband and wife, the words so grown-up and real they send a shiver down Harry’s spine, one that reminds that he so easily couldn't have made it here. He focuses on holding Ginny’s face when he kisses her, laughing into her mouth when she deepens it, the two of them getting carried away until the officiant coughs.
“Nine year old me is screaming inside,” Ginny whispers, that blazing look in her eyes that makes Harry’s knees weak.
“You should hear twenty-four year old me,” Harry says, kissing her again, grinning into her laugh. “He’s hysterical.”
“I love you, Harry,” she tells him, taking his hand and leading him back down the makeshift aisle.
“I love you, Gin,” Harry replies, mouth hurting from smiling, following his wife (his wife! his brain adds) into the ladies toilets of the hotel and carrying on their binding kiss that got cut far too short.
.
After promising the staff they’ll clean everything up, they discreetly cast a few Muffliatos, conjure up some tables, and set up a CD player in the sand.
Tiny ring-bearer Teddy dances with Ginny, his hair glowing pink, a colour they know to associate with delight, even if it twinges with sadness for everyone else.
“He was very sweet,” Mrs Weasley -- Molly -- says, following Harry’s gaze as he absent-mindedly turns them around. They didn’t think about the dancing in the sand when they had their big romantic idea about getting married on the beach. As Ginny pointed out, Harry’s not that great a dancer on solid ground so what’s a bit of sand going to do, which, unfortunately, is exactly right.
“He took his job very seriously,” Harry replies, the image of Teddy walking very very slowly towards them, rings clutched tightly in his hands, one that has him brimming over with joy all over again. He’s been to a few weddings now but blimey, no one told him his own would be so overwhelming.
Watching Ginny twirl Teddy under her arm, ducking down to allow him to the same to her, makes Harry stop his pitiful attempt at dancing and just watch, caught again on how easily this could all have been a thing only a parallel universe could conjure, if only he’d caught that train in King’s Cross after his final thought of Ginny.
Mrs Weasley hums, jerking Harry’s attention back to her. “Sorry I --”
“You know you’ve always been part of the family, don’t you, Harry?” She pauses to allow him to attempt to stumble through some sort of response. “But welcome, dear. We’re so happy to officially have you. Go on, go to her.”
So Harry lets go of his mother-in-law all too willingly and crosses the sand, sidestepping Ron and Hermione who are dancing far too slowly for the song. He scoops up Teddy, balances him on his hip. At seven he’s looking more and more like his parents, that cheeky smile something Harry never got to see on Remus’s face but one he can imagine his dad managed to coax out.
“Can I steal this dance?” he asks Teddy, waving his hand at Ginny who holds out a hand, yanking him towards her.
“I suppose,” Teddy sighs, “it is your wedding after all.”
“Is it?” Ginny asks. “I’d almost forgotten.”
Harry slides his arm around her waist, holding Teddy steady with his other. “These shiny new rings on our fingers give it away.”
Ginny holds hers up, shows it off to Teddy, who peers at it politely as though he hasn’t studied them all day. “What do you think, Teddy? Is he a keeper?”
“He’s a seeker,” Teddy points out, which makes Ginny throw back her head and laugh.
Her hand rests on Harry’s cheek, fingers soft and warm, and when she stops laughing she leans in and kisses him, ignoring Teddy’s squawks of disapproval.
The picture Fleur takes at this moment, Harry and Ginny kissing with Teddy curled around them, is the one that makes it onto their wall.
.
There’s no time for a honeymoon, not with the league coming up and training every day.
But they have their wedding night, a night thoroughly enjoyed by both involved, and they have the following day where they sneak away from the family and Apparate over to King’s Cave at Blackwaterfoot, to the view that makes them both catch their breath and stop.
They sit on a rock as the sun rises, Ginny’s head on Harry’s shoulder, her hand clasped in his.
“What’s next?” Ginny asks after a while.
“After marrying you? That was the peak --”
“Stop it,” Ginny says. “Stop saying very very romantic things because I can’t handle it and I don’t always know when you’re exaggerating.” With that she scrambles to straddle him, a precarious moment where they almost fall off the rock. “I know that becoming my husband has been your lifelong dream so what now?”
“Now,” Harry says, leaning back on his elbows so that Ginny has no choice but to follow. Her hair dangles on either side of his face like a very pleasant-smelling curtain. “I’ll help the Tornadoes beat you in the league and --”
“Well that’ll never happen so --”
“We’re married now, Gin, what’s yours is mine and what’s mine is yours and --”
“I’m so happy, Harry,” Ginny cuts him off. “Throughout all of this, throughout everything, you’ve always made me happy.”
There isn’t a reply to that that isn’t a fairly disappointing but truthful, “Me too,” and so Harry keeps his mouth shut, and settles for lying back, pulling Ginny with him, and kisses her forehead. She gets it.
Neither of their lives have been simple, not even a little bit, but sometimes lying on a deserted beach as the sun rises, with your new wife smiling, can seem like that’s all there ever has to be.