one thousand lives

how about figure skater!ginny? bonus points of it’s also hockey player!harry

A/N: I hope this satisfies! Just a fluffy hinny something :) I don't know hockey lol

Ao3

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concession

"I think you're forgetting I play professionally," Harry chuckles, adjusting the stance of his skates so he's circling Ginny slowly.

Ginny catches the edge of his stick with hers. "And I think you're forgetting I played all of my brothers since I was tall enough to hold a stick."

"Not quite the same, twinkle toes."

"Oi, you try a single let alone a triple toe," Ginny growls, "Or even imagine doing just what you do without being able to grunt and sweat and," Ginny waves one hand around as if she can grasp the end of her sentence.

"So fine - but we'll make this legit. If I get one past you I'll meal prep you for two weeks."

Ginny grins and steals the puck before swiveling to push and catch it in turn. "I'm listening."

"That's a first," Harry drawls, snatching the puck back and escorting it close enough to the net for a slapshot that echoes across the rink.

"Wait - why would that be your reward?"

"I like to cook," Harry hedges as he skates to retrieve the puck. His kiddie hockey team is trickling in toward the locker rooms and he returns their waves before refocusing on Ginny.

Ginny, who is currently looking at him like she - wisely - does not buy his explanation. "What if I get it past you?"

Skating closer, closer than they've been throughout the conversation. Close enough that Harry can almost count the individual flyaways that escaped her braid over the course of her impromptu practice.

She's had a lot of those lately - impromptu practices that just so happen to coincide with kiddie hockey. But before Harry can entertain that thought, Ginny steals the puck. "I'm waiting, Potter."

Ginny's close, much too close, and Harry's response is a strangled whisper. "A kiss."

Her eyes widen and pink rises in her cheeks. "From who?"

“A world class hockey god.”

“Oliver’s in town?”

"Get in the net, Weasley."

She does as ordered with a cheeky salute and some twizzles for panache, and centers herself in front of the goal. "Alright, ready."

Harry lines up his shot and smacks it clean across the rink. Ginny is pin point focused until it’s just a few feet away, at which point she swipes in the exact opposite direction of the puck, completely missing the pass.

Harry skates over, bringing himself to a halt with a spray of ice - thankfully aimed at the empty end of the goal. “Not your best, Gin.”

“I suppose I’ll have to accept the results,” Ginny sighs and retrieves the puck, “Now get in there, macho boy.”

When she’s in place, Ginny adjusts her grip on her stick carefully and ignores the whispers of Harry’s little team. She only glances at Harry once and he sends her a grin that’s meant to be encouraging but in actuality likely does more to send her stomach somersaulting. 

The puck shoots across the ice at a very high speed, thank you very much, but it feels like the entire world slows like they’re swimming through molasses. 

Ginny looks to Harry, but his eyes are pinned on the puck, ever the professional. Her gaze follows his, follows the puck as it slides toward his carefully placed stick, right where he can block it perfectly.

Then, in a split second, the puck slides home and the clatter of Harry’s stick hitting the ice breaks her from the spell. Vaguely, she hears the team shouting in shock, but she only has eyes for Harry, who’s already skating toward her with his discarded stick still sliding toward the wall.

“I hope you know how much I’ve sacrificed for you.”

“A little shot to your ego won’t hurt anyone,” Ginny teases, reaching for his hand.

“That was a chivalric sacrifice and I will not hear the end of it from the boys,” Harry murmurs, leaning in, “So if you’d like to collect now and at least give me a good visual for my explanation.”

Just as they come a breath apart, Ginny slips the fingers of her free hand between their lips and pushes Harry away just slightly. “No, I have no guarantee of a repeat performance and if it’s a one and done, I want a much better kiss than the Devon Otters can handle. I’ve waited years, Potter.”

Harry groans, “Bloody little tease - “

“Hey there Lonnie!” Ginny practically shouts over Harry’s shoulder, “Coach Potter was just about to get you all started.”

Before Ginny can skate away, Harry grasps her hand. He narrows his eyes at her and shouts, “Oi! Samantha! Get everyone started on warm ups. I need to confer with Ms. Weasley before she leaves for the evening.”

Samantha salutes, “Aye, aye Coach! You sorry lot - get your arses in gear!”

Ginny chuckles, “Salty for an eight-year-old - ”

“Gin,” Harry grumbles, “I am not discussing this. I’m walking you to the locker room and we are going to snog the life out of each other for five minutes and then we’re spending the night together,” Ginny chokes on a surprised laugh as they clear the ice and slip guards on their blades and Harry nearly falls when he realizes what he’s said, “I mean - to cook your meals for - ”

“Harry - Harry,” Ginny grabs the ties of his sweatshirt and pulls him to face her, “I am coming to yours because you have no flatmate and a stocked kitchen and every time something’s set to bake I’m going to grab onto that tight little bum for dear life while you make me see stars, alright?”

Harry grins, “Alright.”

“Now,” Ginny pulls him into the changing room and locks the door, “Think they can spare you for seven?”