Chapter Text
They met again in the queue for the rollercoaster.
He should’ve known she was the type of person who’d like rollercoasters, because he was just that doomed.
They’d separated pretty quickly after the pendulum, with Harry going to the cup-and-saucers.
“Who’d go on the stupid cup and saucers thing?” she’d asked scornfully.
“I’ve heard it can be pretty dizzying,” he offered.
Admittedly, this was from Hermione, who loathed flying, so he wasn’t sure how much it applied to quidditch players like them.
Because it was obvious she was a quidditch player.
Like he said: doomed.
“Suit yourself,” she’d said, dubiously, before heading towards the high-fly.
He resisted the urge to follow her—he had a plan, he reminded himself sternly. One he couldn’t currently much remember the point of, but he did.
So off he went—though the ride didn’t dizzy him nearly as much as the thought of the woman with a wicked smile, gorgeous laugh, and red hair that trapped sunlight like a magnifying glass to set his heart on fire.
But even if he was doomed, luck was on his side.
Because he found her again.
What were the odds they would be going for the same ride at the same time, when he had an express ticket and she did not?
Sirius always said Potters were unlucky in love until a point where it all turned around—his younger siblings proved that, even if the latter hadn’t happened yet for them—but he wasn’t seeing much evidence for that right now.
He reminded himself again that calling this ‘love’ was ridiculous.
He’d barely met this woman.
But Sirius also said that when Potters knew, they knew.
And that, even his parents agreed with.
“I may not be an arithmancer,” he told her. “But I know the odds of this are pretty astronomical.”
She smiled. “Not quite as much if you factor in the fact that we’re both clearly adrenaline junkies.”
“Hermione?” he asked mockingly. “Have you charmed your appearance?”
It would be rather concerning if he’d managed to fall in—attraction with his affianced best friend.
“Hermione?” she asked, rather more incredulously than he thought it warranted.
“My best—”
“As in Hermione Granger? Ron’s fiancée?”
His jaw dropped. “Merlin. You’re a Weasley. I should’ve been able to tell from the hair.”
The famous Weasley ginger hair. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t recognized it, having met Ron a few times—with and without Hermione since they’d hit it off immediately.
“You’re here for the engagement party too, then?” Her smile widened into a broad grin that took his breath away.
“I am,” he answered once he managed to get it back. “Although a bit early, since, as you said—adrenaline junkie.”
“I’m the same,” she agreed. “That’s why we’re here for this, huh?” She nodded at the rollercoaster.
“D’you think it’ll be better than flying?”
“No way,” she denied vehemently. “It can’t possibly be.”
“You’re a quidditch player, right?” He remembered Ron saying that about his sister. He didn’t really keep up with any teams other than Caerphilly, though.
Her brows furrowed. “Yeah. How did you know?”
“Ron—” He was prevented from continuing by the line letting out. He shot her an apologetic look—only to be stopped with a hand to the chest.
Naturally.
She snorted, and he couldn’t help a smile despite his frustration.
“We need two more people,” the attendant said, denying a family of five entrance.
“We’re together,” Harry blurted out, gesturing between himself and her.
The attendant raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Really? Why doesn’t she have an express ticket, then?”
“Because I said that it would be a waste of money and wouldn’t even make much of a difference,” she cut in smoothly, and Harry had to admire how carefully crafted the lie was. “And I’m proving my point right now.”
“No, you’re not,” he protested, forgetting this wasn’t a real point of contention. “You had to wait here way longer than I had to. I’ve been to more rides than you, too.”
She clicked her tongue. “You mean the boring ones no one wants to go on.”
“Excuse—”
“Enough!” The attendant looked exasperated. “Just enter—you even argue like a married couple.”
At the idea of them being married, Harry blushed. Actually blushed, like felt the heat rising up his cheeks and neck.
Thankfully, she didn’t seem to notice how pathetic he was being.
“Do you even know my name?” she asked amusedly as they squeezed together—far too close, his elbow brushed hers, that couldn’t be according to safety regulations—on the two remaining seats and drew their belts on.
He cast his mind back to the times Ron had talked about his family—which had been fairly frequent, since both of them adored their families. “Uh. . . . Jenny?”
She laughed. “Close. It’s Ginny.”
He’d managed to practically fall in love without even finding out their name.
Dad would be proud.
Ginny. Ginny. It was such a beautiful, short, fierce name, suiting her perfectly.
“That short for something?”
“Something you’ll never find out or call me.”
“Or what?”
“Or they’ll never find your body,” she replied.
He hummed: “Dangerous thing to say to an Auror.”
Her expression turned slightly wary. “You’re an Auror?”
“Yeah. Don’t tell me you’re a criminal.”
This made her smile. “Do you really think I’d come out and tell you, Mr. Auror?”
She still didn’t know his name, he realized.
“It’s Auror Potter.” He extended his hand with difficulty. Ginny didn’t take it; instead just stared at him.
“Potter?” she repeated. “Like Hermione’s practically family best friend and the one Ron has not been able to shut up about and the one who invested in the shop?”
He couldn’t help the bashful grin. “I guess.”
They didn’t have time to say anything more—the rollercoaster took off, slowly climbing, making a weird noise that matched the thumping of Harry’s heart as he looked at Ginny, whose face was lit with anticipation.
Fuck, he was an absolute goner.
The way his stomach swooped as everyone around them screamed and they only laughed when they began to drop only confirmed it.