Disclaimer: If I was J.K. Rowling I would be making money off of these books instead of using (*cough, cough* trying to use) her characters :)

Pairing: Harry/Ginny

Characters: Harry Potter, Ginny Weasley, Arthur Weasley, George Weasley, Molly Weasley

Prompt: Rude by Magic

Rated: K+

Word Count: 1,445

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NOTE: This is written post Hogwarts and rests on the notion that Arthur moved all his 'toys' into the chicken shed where he had Sirius's old bike.

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Written for the Music Club on Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry forum.

Category: Muggle Music (Check it out!)

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"Um…Mr. Weasley, sir?" Harry called into the orange light of the small, cluttered shed.

He tugged at the stiff sleeves of his suit. He had no idea what had convinced him to wear a suit, but here he was, feeling like he was wearing a straight jacket.

It only made him more nervous than he already was.

He, Harry Potter, The Chosen One, had killed Voldemort, the worst wizard the Wizarding World had seen, yet he couldn't do this?

Merlin help him.

Molly had told him that Arthur was outside, but she didn't know where.

Harry knew where he was.

He stood at the door of the chicken shed where Mr. Weasley kept his 'toys'.

The shed seemed to be under an Extension Charm and was stacked from floor to roof with random Muggle artifacts. Electric plugs and batteries occasionally rolled across the floor as their owner bustled about.

At that moment the said Arthur Weasley was holding a rather old-looking rusty hammer. He stopped, looking up at Harry in surprise.

"Ah! Harry –" he stopped abruptly, looking him up and down.

He stood up straighter, self conscious under the incredulous gaze.

Arthur looked up at his face, confused.

"Going somewhere, are we?" he asked, gesturing to the uncomfortable suit.

Harry seized his chance. "Actually, Mr. Weasley, that's why I'm here –" he was interrupted by and absurdly large bang somewhere in the depths of the chicken shed.

Arthur jerked around, frowning at the mountains of metal.

"Hm…" he muttered, turning back to Harry. "What was that –" he stopped as he, too, was also interrupted by the mysterious bang.

Hefting the rusty hammer onto his shoulder, he started towards the back of the shed.

"I'll just…wait here, then…" Harry muttered. He jumped, startled as there was a sound as if several small explosions had just gone off.

Mr. Weasley returned to the front of the shed, his face full of soot.

He was muttering quietly to himself.

"Damned stove…I thought Smithers had said he fixed it...ah, well…have to keep it hidden from Molly…"

He looked up at Harry again, beaming brightly at him, hefting the hammer onto his shoulder again.

"Now, what do you need, m'boy?" he asked again. Harry looked at him nervously.

"Could you, um, put down the hammer?" he asked tentatively. Arthur frowned at him bewilderedly.

"Sorry?"

"The…hammer. Could you put it down?" Arthur laughed shortly as if Harry was making a joke, lifting it off his shoulder.

"What, this old thing? It couldn't hurt a fly, even if it wanted –" he was interrupted at the head of the hammer dislodged itself from its handle and dropping on his foot.

The following moments were as expected.

Mr. Weasley howled and hopped around, holding his injured foot. He was off balance on two feet, and on one foot he was a menace.

Bumping into a small white freezer, he jerked the other way, landing in a pile of plug cords. Somehow, he managed to get his legs and hands tangled and after five minutes of fruitless trying he gave up and lay his head down on the floor.

"Shall I go get Mrs. Weasley?" Harry asked, starting towards the door.

"No!" Mr. Weasley yelled, bolting upright. He saw Harry's expression of alarm and coughed awkwardly. "Sorry, no thank you, Harry. Wouldn't want Molly to see – er, come out here for nothing."

"Of course, sir," Harry bit back a grin.

… … … … … … … …

"Now, Harry," Mr. Weasley asked after he had gotten untangled with Harry's help. He sat down in an old armchair, a cloud of dust rising into the air. "What did you want to ask me?" he gestured to a small wooden chair beside him.

Harry tensed. "Sir, as you know –"

"Arthur," Mr. Weasley interjected. "Call me Arthur, Harry."

"Arthur," Harry said firmly. "As you know, Ginny and I, we've grown quite…" he searched for the right word. "Close." He finished.

"Don't I know it," Arthur chuckled. Harry felt his cheeks grow pink, but he forced the blush down. He had to say this.

"I was wondering – hoping – that you'd bless me with her, um, hand in marriage."

Arthur's eyebrows shot up. "Oh. Oh! Well…"

"It's purely traditional," Harry added quickly. Arthur chuckled absently.

"Well, indeed…" he stopped awkwardly, shifting in his armchair. "Harry, as you know, Ginny listens to no one," Harry chuckled appreciatively at that, knowing only too well that it was true. "No one tells her what she can and can't or feel,"

"I know that, sir," Harry said.

"Well, I can certainly bless you, but as for Ginny…well she's a rather crucial part of the equation." He smiled to himself. "I can give you luck, but in the end, it is Ginny's decision." Harry took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

"Thank you, sir," he smiled, getting up. He brushed himself off.

Looking down at his suit, he sighed and fished his wand out of the inside of the jacket.

Waving his wand down his body, the stiff fabric relaxed into those of a tee shirt and jeans. With a small grin, he headed back to the Burrow.

… … … … … … …

"Ginny?" Harry asked. They were clearing away dishes after a large wonderful supper of Mrs. Weasley's.

Ginny pushed past him, levitating the leftovers with her wand. He had to duck to avoid the roast beef plate.

"Ginny!" he called. There was a sound of several items crashing to the ground and then silence.

Deadly silence.

"Damn it, Harry!"

… … … … … … … … … …

"Well, there was no need to be so rude. Ignoring me and all," He grinned teasingly as they swept up the plate shards.

Mrs. Weasley had forced them both on their knees to clean up the shards and 'perfectly good leftovers they had wasted' that were now scattered over the kitchen floor.

Without magic.

"You also shouldn't have scared the living hell out of me!" She exclaimed.

"Didn't know I made you so nervous," Harry teased. Ginny just stuck out her tongue like a child.

"I'm human, too, you know!" she retorted.

The worked in silence for a little while longer. That was how it sometimes was with Ginny. Yes, it was silent, but it was comfortable.

Just…not when he was thinking of proposing.

"Harry?" Ginny broke through the plan he was devising.

"What?" he asked. He spilled the contents from the dustpan he was using as he stood up quickly.

"Is…there something bothering you?" she asked. "You're just acting…I dunno…odd." She finished awkwardly, looking meaningfully at the pile of dust at his feet.

"Yeah, about that –" he started. George barged unceremoniously into the kitchen.

"Dear Mum says to have it done – right, I'm leaving," he said hastily, catching Harry's glare. Ginny laughed at his hasty departure.

"What were you saying?" he could see the suppressed mirth at her brother's actions shining behind e ryes, and he took a deep breath.

Kneeling on the floor again and putting down the dustpan, he took the small ring box out of his pocket.

She gasped and he just smiled. "Ginny…" he looked up at her and grinned widely. "Will you ma –" Ginny flew at him and flung her arms around his neck, muffling the second half of the sentence.

He felt her pull back, grabbing her hands and looked into her face, pushing a lock of fiery red hair behind her ear. "I take it that's a yes, then?" he laughed, slipping the ring on her finger.

She blushed, looking down at their intertwined hands, hers now sparkling with the small diamond.

"Yes." She said quietly. "Oh, and did you know you're kneeling on a dust pile?" she grinned cheekily. Harry laughed and picked her up.

Again, her pale arms found their way behind his neck and she kissed him.

"Oi! Do you have to do…that in the kitchen?" The voice of one of the twins cut through Harry's cloud of bliss. Ginny pulled back.

"Yes, George, now go!" The kitchen door slammed and just as he was about to kiss her again, they heard George's voice in the room next to them.

"Mum, they're sucking on each other's faces… No I am not going in there again! Why? I don't need to see that – oh, why are they committing murder to each other's faces? I dunno…I suppose it had something to do with the ring on her finger, though…"

Mrs. Weasley's shriek nearly deafened him.

He shook his head and buried it in the crook of Ginny's neck as she laughed.

"Welcome to the family," she grinned.