Author's Note: A small, H/G drabble I wrote many eons ago. Harry's POV. Enjoy!
This morning, like every morning, she sat at our kitchen table, doing those stupid word puzzles in the Daily Prophet. I suppose you could call it a sort of hobby of hers—she did it every morning. The hidden messages she found by using the letters from the correct words constantly seemed to amuse her to no end—why they did, I could never figure out, because Merlin only knows that things like "Have a good day!" and "Bobby loves Becky!", which were generally what the hidden messages usually said, didn't seem all that funny to me.
But that was just one of her quirks. Just one of the things I loved about Ginny Weasley.
She'd be doing this tomorrow, and the next day, and probably every day for the rest of her life. Thinking about all those days made me remember the small, velvet box I'd hidden in our bedside table just a few weeks ago. I wanted to be there to see her do these word puzzles for the rest of her life.
The only problem was, I wasn't sure how to ask her if she wanted me to be there.
The sound of my name snapped me out of my thoughts as my eyes flickered over to where Ginny sat at the table, tea in one hand and quill in the other, the Prophet spread open on the table in front of her. Her eyebrows were furrowed in confusion. "What's a six-letter word for 'separate'? Starts with a 'd'?"
"Er..." I scourged my mind for an answer. Merlin, I hate these things. "Divide?" I finally suggested.
Ginny contemplated my answer for a moment, bit the end of her quill and then let out a cry of delight. "Detach! Perfect!" She threw me a smile, her eyes twinkling. "Thanks, love," she grinned, acting as if that's what I'd suggested all along.
I shook my head as Ginny began filling in the letters to discover the secret message for today.
"B...T...R...Y... oh! Harry, look that this! 'Robby, it's a boy!' Now isn't that adorable?"
I rolled my eyes. Yes, of course. Adorable. It was rubbish, that's what it—
Then, suddenly, I had an idea.
When I woke up the next morning—anxious, shaken and feeling a bit sick—I found Ginny once again sitting in the kitchen, the Prophet opened wide on the table to the back pages. She was filling in one of the words and looked up as I walked into the kitchen.
"Good morning," she said, greeting me with a kiss. "You're up rather early."
I gave her a soft grin and shrugged. Nervously, I fingered the small box held in the pocket of my dressing robe. As I walked over to the counter to fetch a cup of coffee, I scanned the newspaper, seeing that Ginny had almost completed the puzzle. I couldn't decide if this was a good thing or a bad thing.
"You don't have work today, do you?" she asked, though most of her concentration was focused on the puzzle and not on me.
"No," I answered quickly, worried that if I opened my mouth any further, I would throw up.
"Oh, good." She smiled and looked up at me. "Then perhaps you could help me with this." She nodded her head towards the puzzle. "It's fairly difficult this morning. I'm not even sure if I got all the words correct."
Bloody wonderful, I thought bitterly, walking over towards the table. Just what I need, a difficult puzzle.
"You know I'm rubbish at those things," I told her truthfully, thankful for the excuse so that she could do it on her own.
"True," she answered with a smirk. I was glad when she didn't ask for my help again, and instead went back to completing the puzzle.
Maybe it had only been a few seconds, or maybe a few minutes, but it seemed like forever had passed when finally, Ginny let out a whoop of glee.
"One more!" she cried, delighted. "This better be a good one, for all the work they've made me do!"
I held back a groan. Yeah, it had better be.
"Let's see..." Ginny started, scanning the page for her last clue. "'Famous Puddlemere chaser'... seven letters... a 'w' and a 'd'..."
"Wadcock," I answered automatically, the suspense all but killing me. "Joscelind Wadcock."
Ginny's bright smile made my heart flop. "See?" she teased. "You're not rubbish. At least not with the Quidditch questions, anyway."
I smiled weakly, stepping behind her as she began filling in the last clue.
"Let's see about this message, then, shall we?" she muttered under her breath, slowly placing each letter in its rightful spot. I had to look away.
She was going to get it wrong.
She was going to get it right.
She was going to faint.
"...oh, another R..."
She was going to say no.
"...ah-ha! Nearly there..."
I was definitely going to throw up.
After what seemed like decades, the scratching of her quill and Ginny's mutterings finally ceased. I waited for a response, any sort of response, but there was none. Hesitantly, nervously, I finally looked down at Ginny. She was staring at the paper, her eyes drawn in befuddlement.
"I don't get it."
Instantly, my eyes snapped over to where Ginny had filled in the letters to the message.
WELL YON LARRY ME, FINNE?
Oh, bloody hell.
Grabbing Ginny's quill off the table in annoyance, I quickly crossed off a few of the letters and filled in my own. Ginny watched me curiously.
"Harry, what are you...?"
I moved my hand away and shoved the paper towards her, then grabbed the small, velvet box out of my pocket and placed it next to the message. Stunned, Ginny stared at the box, her brown eyes wide as saucers. Then slowly, uncertainly, she glanced down at the altered message... the real message.
WILL YOU MARRY ME, GINNY?
Stupid Daily Prophet. Can't even get a decent proposal right.
But that didn't stop Ginny from saying yes.