Prompt fill for "Ginny and Harry early relationship adorableness?"

It seemed almost too good to be true, a rare spell of glorious weather coinciding with the happiest weeks of Harry's life, but he wasn't about to complain; he had better things to do nowadays, like spending every free hour he had down by the lake with Ginny.

"I really ought to be revising …"

"You said that half an hour ago."

"Well, it's still true." Ginny rolled over onto her front, propping herself up on one elbow, and squinted at Harry. "You know, as the older, responsible one, you're supposed to tell me to put my education first."

"Who d'you take me for, Hermione?" he asked disbelievingly. "I'd never say that …"

"So I can blame you if I fail my OWLs, then?"

"Might as well. Although it might be the last straw for your mum," he added worriedly, "after I gave Fred and George the money for the shop … she might think I'm a bad influence."

"You are," said Ginny sternly. "Look! Forcing me to lie in the sun with you every day, you terror, and then there's the matter of the tattoo –"

"Oh, yeah - I got another one, did I tell you?"

"Ooh, what's it this time?"

"Well, it's Slughorn, on a unicorn," said Harry, maintaining a straight face with some difficulty, "and he's got a tattoo of a unicorn on – er – a dragon. And the unicorn has a moustache, too."

"The one Slughorn's riding, or the one in his tattoo?"

Harry thought about it. "Er - both."

Ginny burst out laughing, and he grinned.

"I am very interested in seeing that," she said, eyeing him with a look that made his knees feel rather like jelly. "Where is it, did you say?"

"Erm, left foot. Fourth toe." Harry gestured. "It's very small."

"That's not what you want to hear," Ginny giggled.

Harry gaped at her for a moment, then snorted.

"I think you're right, you should be revising …"

Still giggling – it was rapidly becoming one of his favourite sounds, that - she said, "you could test me, if you're so keen."

"All right, what's Flitwick's favourite colour?"

"Yeah, I was thinking more along the lines of things that'll actually be on my exams …"

"How do you know that won't be on your exams? So arrogant," said Harry, tutting. "I've done my OWLs, remember? I know things." He paused. "I mean, we were asked about Sprout's favourite food, but -"

"And?"

"And what?"

"What is Sprout's favourite food?" Ginny asked. "C'mon, the suspense is unbearable."

"Oh, right. Well, I don't know if I got it right, obviously, but I put - sprouts." He shrugged. "Thought it seemed logical."

"So what would be your logical guess at Flitwick's favourite colour?"

"Er … brown."

"Brown?" she repeated. "No one's favourite colour is brown."

Harry, looking into her bright, dancing eyes, had to silently disagree.

"Well - doesn't matter, does it? It's not my problem now," he said, grinning at her.

Huffing, and muttering about the indignity, she rolled onto her back again, but hooked her ankles over his. Her feet were bare, shoes and socks tossed aside, and her toenails were painted a lurid, sparkly purple.

It really was a blessing, the good weather, he thought, blinking up at the clear blue sky that stretched for miles above. Even though a number of other students were fanned out across the grounds, he and Ginny were largely concealed from prying eyes in a way that they wouldn't have been in the common room.
(He didn't even dare imagine Ron's reaction if he were to take Ginny up to their dorm, but he thought it would probably be unpleasant.)

It was remarkably easy, in Ginny's presence, with her flowery scent on the warm summer air and vivid hair glimmering in the sunlight, to put out of mind Horcruxes and detention and Malfoy and all those problems he knew were not simply going to go away, but it felt so wonderful to have something else to not only distract him but make him genuinely happy. He could not help feeling that he had earned the right to be happy for a bit.

"Are you thinking again?" came Ginny's voice. "You know it's not good for you."

"Just a bit," said Harry. He glanced over at her: she was gazing upwards, but wore a little smile he knew was for him.

"Tell me something," he suggested.

"Like what?"

"I dunno – anything."

She appeared to think about it for a moment or two, chewing on her bottom lip, then said: "One of the gnomes back home is called Simon, and he speaks fluent Spanish."

Harry laughed. "Is that true?"

"What does it matter? You never said I should tell you something true."

"Fair enough," he conceded. "All right - tell me something true, then."

This time she was silent for much longer. Harry wondered if she might have fallen asleep - and then, worriedly, if he had in fact bored her to sleep – and was just about to look over and check when he felt her shift beside him –

Before he knew it, the sky had vanished, and Ginny was hovering over him, that smile still in place, sending his stomach into full acrobatics as she leaned in and kissed him with such intensity that his breath caught in his throat. After a few seconds, his mind cleared enough for him to reach up and wrap his arms around her, pulling her down fully.

"That was the best way I could think of to say it," she said when, several long minutes later, they separated, panting slightly.

"Ung," said Harry intelligently. "Er. Yeah. That was – well said." He exhaled, his heart rate still far faster than normal. "That was something true, was it?"

"Well, it wasn't a lie," said Ginny, smiling, and Harry decided to swiftly resume the kissing, which was very nice indeed.

"Was that the bell?" she said some time later, glancing up at the castle, where figures were disappearing up the stone steps.

"No," said Harry, kissing her again, "it definitely wasn't."

"I don't want to know," said Ron grouchily, when Harry slipped into Charms five minutes late with rumbled and grass-stained robes.

"That suits both of us, then."