That Little Black Number
Summary: Harry watches Ginny prepare for their anniversary meal at The Burrow.
Ginny Potter studied her reflection in the full size mirror by the large bay window in their bedroom. She frowned slightly as she looked at herself. Her mouth automatically straightening from her earlier smile and she gently shook her head as her eyes fell on her stomach. Despite the fact that she was wearing just a white towel in a Roman toga style there was no hiding its ever increasing size. She couldn't believe that she had put on so much weight so quickly. Her midriff had made getting ready, especially for occasions like this, a nightmare.
She glanced at the large deep oak wardrobe. It was bulging with a range of bright and varied coloured clothes. Yet tonight with hardly anything left that fit her, it seemed like the whole wardrobe was mocking her, sitting there, showing her what she should be able to wear; what she had been able to wear just over a month ago. This was yet another way her life was rapidly changing, making her feel more than a little nervous.
Running her hand along a variety of different fabrics that ranged from cotton to silk, she paused on a rich scarlet dress. It was a strapless little gown that was as vibrant as her hair colour that expressed her personality and the post war bliss. It was a fun little outfit that was more than just a little bit revealing. That had been the very dress that she had intended to wear tonight, when she had bought it less than three months ago after the World Cup Finals and when she was still in blissful denial.
Ginny studied the dress for a couple of moments longer, it seemed such a shame to leave it in her wardrobe, especially since it had yet to have its first outing. Her eyes half closed as she tried to image any possible way that the dress would work and stretch over her ever-growing waistline. Letting out a small sigh, she forced herself to admit that it was going to be at least four months until she would be wearing that dress.
Reluctantly she pulled down her old black number. If anything was still going to fit her, something in her gut told her that this would be it. The corners of her mouth twitched into a smile. If clothes had personalities and lives of their own, then this little black dress could tell a variety of stories. This had resulted in her having a real soft spot for the old dress and not the same kind of resentment that she was currently feeling towards her other clothes. Just less than seven years ago, it had been this very outfit she had worn that warm summer evening, in Hogsmeade, when Harry had proposed to her. So maybe it was very appropriate that she would be wearing it again tonight as she marked six years of marriage as Mrs Potter.
She pulled the black satin over her head, pausing a few seconds as she held her breath with anticipation as it brushed against her stomach. Closing her eyes, she whispered a silent prayer. She had never worried too much about her appearance, she knew she had natural advantages in her looks. However, she felt no need to flaunt herself. She was just as comfortable, if not more so, in jeans and a Quidditch shirt as she was in any dress. Yet when her options of what she could wear had started to disappear, in a similar way to how her career had radically changed, she had felt desperate to hang on to what she knew.
Ginny let out a small sigh of relief as, for once, her unborn child did not seem to have a problem with her choice of clothing and the dress fell gently just above her knees. Some things would never change; the dress would always fit, just like her feelings for Harry would never change. Sharing a love that had grown since the age of ten, they had been there for each other since they were children. Whether she liked it or not, she would always be his first damsel in distress, for whom he had risked everything to save. Likewise whatever Harry did, she would always be the one person that could stand up to him and make him listen to reason.
Picking up her heels, she knotted the laces quickly around her ankles, before examining her reflection in the mirror. A smile curled over her lips as she stared at her image and in particular at her dress. As she ran a brush through her vivid red hair, she felt, for the first time in weeks, satisfied with her reflection. She did not look frumpy, nor, at the tender age of twenty-five, like she had turned into her mother. This, in all honesty, had been her biggest fear as she had looked at the variety of maternity clothes in Diagon Alley. As much as she loved her mother, she was not ready to surrender her life to seven children and aprons.
A small frown creased her brow as she looked in the mirror again. Standing in the doorway to their bedroom, shirt un-tucked and his wand peeping out of his back trouser pocket, was Harry, gaping at her. An idiotic smile filled his face as he stared at her. She bit her lip, resisting the urge to repeat it back to him. Right now life had never been better, but there was no chance that she was going to let him know how happy she was at the moment. Using all the willpower and the great acting abilities she possessed, she frowned at him as she slowly turned around.
Harry stood in the doorway to his bedroom with a broad grin plastered across his face. He had developed this goofy look whenever he spent time with Ginny. He couldn't help it; he just felt unbelievably happy and content in a way he had never done when they were apart. She helped complete him and if that meant that she mocked his idiotic grin then so be it. Besides, she had an irresistible smile and such a warm laugh when she made fun of him.
The setting sun was providing a rich glow to the room yet there was only one focus in it, and that was not the view out the window of the golden fields with the image of the black and white stands of the Montrose Magpies stadium in the distance. The focus instead was on the single woman in the room. The soft light from the dying sun was falling through the window and onto his wife, highlighting her perfect body.
His eyes travelled up past her four-inch black heels that wrapped around her delicate ankles, up her legs, over her curvy hips, onto the small bump on her stomach and followed the length of her little black number, to his favourite feature: her vibrant red hair.
Ginny had been complaining for weeks that nothing fitted her like it used to and everything made her look frumpy. In fact, she had unleashed her fiery temper on anyone who commented on her clothes, leaving a shop assistant at Hogsmeade temporarily speechless. Tonight she had been left with no choice but to wear her old black dress. But looking at her now, in his opinion, she had never looked more irresistible than she did tonight, not even six years ago on their wedding day. Whether it was the light or pregnancy or a mixture of the two he wasn't sure, but she was quite simply glowing.
Carefully she twisted her hair into an elegant knot, before studying her reflection in the mirror. Her finger caught a loose strand of hair and she weaved it round her hand, thinking about something for a minute. Her eyes were twinkling with a glint of mischief, that mischief that always ended up with them having a lot of fun. However, the playful look disappeared within a second, and her hands fell downwards towards her waistline.
He was sure he knew the reason for the change in her expression. His eyes quickly scanned the room, looking for the location of her wand. Like him, Ginny never had her wand too far out of arm's reach. He found it lying next to the large white towel on their bed. Ginny hadn't grown up at The Burrow without learning a few tricks, which meant it was always useful to know where her best weapon was.
A small frown creased across her forehead as she caught his image standing behind her in the mirror. Slowly she turned around and adopted a straight-faced look, the one she always used when she was pretending to be angry with him. He knew her well enough to know that when she was really furious with someone, her hand would automatically dive for her wand. Right now her arms where crossed.
She glared at him, her brown eyes interlocking with his green ones. There was a glint of anger in her eyes that matched the phrase, 'if looks could kill.' The position of her wand and the previous glimmer in her eyes had given away her true thoughts and intentions. She was far from annoyed; much more amused instead. He kept eye contact with her as he offered her another idiotic grin as he shrugged his shoulders.
Ginny struggled to keep a smile off her face. She had to keep a deadpan expression on her face if this was going to work. She was having fun. This was an area of life where she was completely confident; one of the few things that she always enjoyed doing.
Years of watching Fred and George had taught her more than a few tricks. It had shown her how to twist people's words and actions and use them to her best advantage. They had even taken her under their wing and given her a few lessons. Although she doubted that they had done this out of the goodness of their hearts, she was positive that this had been done so they could have her as an ally.
In fact, growing up in The Burrow, she had copied many of her family's qualities to good use. Like her mother, she had learnt not to let her height be an issue in expressing her opinions. She also had the same spitfire as Charlie. If you added all her virtues to Harry's knack for getting into trouble, this child was going to be a handful.
She gulped, before she continued. She was having fun and didn't want to complicate things. Right now, it was just her, Harry, evening clothes and a lot of mischief.
"So." Her voice was a dangerously low hiss that sent shivers down his spine. "How long have you been staring at me?"
"A while," he confessed as his smile grew, "but that's only because you look like a goddess."
Her heart was fluttering as she felt it swell. She was feeling flushed, which was obviously showing as she caught her reflection in the mirror. Taking a couple of quick, shallow breaths, she struggled to regain her composure. Harry's words had thrown her. She had expected a witty comeback, not a comment on her looks, especially when her appearance was far from what it should be at the moment. She was nowhere near being a goddess.
"Well," she stuttered slightly as her face blushed a rich crimson colour, but she held her nerve, "it's still rude to stare at someone."
"Not if it's your incredible wife in that sexy little black number."
Ginny moved closer to her husband. She had expected him to say that and Harry wasn't the only person having a bit of fun here. This was one of the best parts of their relationship. They enjoyed their relationship with each other and could play off each other. It was almost as if they were a double act, as if they had been made for each other. They naturally worked so well together.
"You know that works two ways," she replied as her eyes slipped to his waistline and his un-tucked shirt. "But, unfortunately, we are due at my parents in half an hour, and claiming that you were having your wicked way with their daughter, who is five months pregnant, just won't work as an excuse." She gave him a mischievous grin as she turned her back on him and glanced over her shoulder. "Now make yourself useful and do up my zip and we'll have the real celebration later."
Harry took the advantage to move closer to her, so close that he could count her freckles. If he wanted to he could sweep her up into his arms without much effort. His strong arms fitted so easily around her.
It would be so easy to pick her up onto their bed and he was sure that she wouldn't complain that much if he did. She was clearly in the mood for a bit of fun tonight. He knew that when it came to their impish banter, Ginny often took underhanded methods. However, that had never stopped him wanting to take part, and if he could encourage that playful spirit then he would without a second thought about it.
His hand traced its way down her back until it reached the zip, resting around six inches below her bra strap. Slowly he started to unzip the dress until he reached her backside. The shoulder strap fell down and exposed her breast as his hand slipped into the back of her dress and traced it round to her small bump.
She had the most amazing curves in the world.
Gently she tapped his thigh and dropped her voice, "Wrong way, Harry."
"But, Gin..." he moaned.
Reluctantly, he removed his hand and zipped up the back of her dress. Surely, they could still have been on time for their anniversary meal, even if she had continued to let that little black number fall to the floor. And if not, as the guests of honour, the party could hardly start without them.
As if she was reading his mind, she placed a soft hand onto his check. She stood on her tiptoes and reached up to place a small, teasing kiss on his lips, pulling away mere seconds after their lips had meet.
"Later, I promise."