Chapter Text
B-I-N-G-0
N41
Ginny tugged on Harry’s hand, pulling him along behind her. He shuffled his feet reluctantly but allowed her to lead the way. She tried to hide her smirk at his pouty expression, which she secretly found adorable.
“Come on, let’s just make the best of it. This is a famous museum, and people must enjoy it to keep coming back,” Ginny said patiently.
“People like Hermione,” he grumbled.
Ginny snorted. He wasn’t wrong – this probably would’ve been one of Hermione’s top highlights had she been the one on holiday in Barcelona. Harry and Ginny were only there because it was the third day of consecutive rain on their holiday.
“My first holiday in… well, in ever, and the London weather follows us here. What kind of holiday is that?” he asked, scowling.
“What d’you think of this one?” Ginny asked, pointing to one of the many paintings along the wall in an attempt to distract him. She was tired of talking about the dratted rain. The painting showed several witches – women – standing in a cauldron. This was a Muggle museum, and Ginny kept having to remind herself of that.
“Why do you suppose they’re standing in that cauldron?” she asked, puzzled.
Harry laughed. “That’s not a cauldron, it’s a wine barrel. They’re making wine. Muggles, Ginny.
“I know they’re Muggles,” she said crossly, “but why are they standing in the wine? Certainly, Muggles don’t bathe in wine.”
“They’re not bathing, they’re making it. I don’t know how it’s done; I just remember learning something about it in primary school,” Harry said, frowning.
“I’m so glad wizard winemakers just use spells,” she said, pulling a face and shuddering slightly at the thought of anyone walking in her wine.
“How do you know that? Maybe the best winemakers secretly use the Muggle way, but they certainly wouldn’t tell you that,” Harry replied, laughing at her expression.
Ginny would rather not think about it. “Oh, look at this one,” she said, pointing at a portrait of a dour-looking man with a hang-dog expression and woebegone eyes. “What do you suppose is troubling him?”
“Looks like he works at the Ministry,” Harry said, sniggering.
“Hmm, yes, I’ve definitely seen that expression on you after a long day,” Ginny said, moving quickly out of his reach.
“Nice,” Harry said. “How about this one. He looks as if whatever’s in that letter he’s reading is the worse news possible.”
“I imagine that’s what someone would look like if they received a love letter from Umbridge,” Ginny said blithely. “Hem, hem.”
Harry’s jaw dropped. “You think she sends love letters? How about poems?”
“Poems?” Ginny asked, already moving toward the next painting.
“His eyes are as green as fresh pick-” the rest of his words were cut off abruptly when she slapped a hand over his mouth.
“I thought we’d agreed to never mention that again,” she said primly.
Harry laughed and wrapped his arm around her. “I’m hungry,” he said.
“You’re always hungry,” she replied. “I think you’ve inherited Ron’s appetite. She looked him up and down appraisingly. He certainly did look much healthier now that he’s put a bit of weight and muscle on. In fact, he looked really good…
“How about we go back to the hotel and get room service?” she asked.
“All the way back to the hotel? There are loads of restaurants just outside,” he said, whining.
Ginny shrugged. “Yes, but you can’t eat in bed in the restaurants.”
Harry’s eyes widened. He took her hand, grinning and they left the paintings quickly behind.