A/N: Canon compliant ish. I always wondered whether anyone saw Ginny do something but didn't realize what it meant until after the secrets were revealed. And Harry's a deep thinker, I think he mulls over things. Well I imagine him to ^^.

Also – this is separate from Umbrella and Definition. Completely. H/G All the way!

A Lonely Waltz

Harry rarely reminisced about his school days. Most of them had been haranguing, dangerous and every so often murderous. But that wasn't the point.

As the epicentre of many evil plots throughout his education at Hogwarts, he often missed signs that in hindsight were blisteringly clear. As Hermione said, it was in his nature to hate himself for things he couldn't control. Cedric's death. Mad Eye Moody. Umbridge's reign of terror. Those who died the night he turned 17.

But there was one incident Hermione didn't know of. Neither did Ron or any of the Weasleys. And he wasn't too sure whether it was a good or bad thing.

It was still Christmas.

Justin had only been Petrified days before along with Nearly Headless Nick, which added to the half of Hogwarts who believed Harry Potter was the Heir of Slytherin, a new Dark Lord. Still, it was Christmas Day. The Gryffindor dorms were empty apart from him, Hermione and the Weasleys. A perfect Christmas really.

Aside from the potential discovery of who the real Heir of Slytherin was and that they would have to drink Polyjuice Potion to do so. Harry trusted Hermione completely, after everything in their first year, his Parseltongue discovery and the fact she really was the cleverest person in their year. But he still wondered whether he would end up as a future source of a diagram for future copies of Most Potente Potions to show what could go wrong.

Shuddering, he wandered down the stairs to the common room. He couldn't really think with the symphony of Seamus and Ron snoring in ear jarring harmony. It was strange though, he couldn't remember what had woken him. Even with the cacophony of noise his roommates produced, he had gotten used to it enough to sleep right through it.

So what had woken him?

If there was one thing Harry had learnt ever since he had set eyes on Hagrid on his eleventh birthday, it was that questions that went unanswered usually were so for a reason. And never a good one. Nor did the sensation of being lured into the common room help his sense of unease. Hairs rose on the back of his arms as he reached the curve in the staircase, giving him a view of the common room.

He had always wondered if the fires were kept burning all night. Probably by elves, he mused. The thought of Dobby brought a tingle to his arm. But the sensations were lost at the sight before him.

The large ornate fireplace was completely overshadowed by a stronger, brighter glow. Harry stopped at the foot of the staircase in terrified silence. Ginny Weasley was levitating in her sleep, her white nightgown radiating light that bounced off his glasses. But she wasn't merely levitating.

Ginny was dancing. Or so it looked. Her arms were in the correct position of a woman being led around a dancefloor. It was a slow sedate waltz. Harry could only stare in wonder as the small, nervous girl he had bumped into move with infinite grace, as if she were a Queen. The eerie light surrounding her did nothing to calm his panic, Harry couldn't understand what was going on.

Was Ginny having a dream? Was it common in the Wizarding world to have waking dreams where people levitated? He remembered Dudley falling down the stairs in his sleep once, but the sight before him was chilling. Deep inside him, despite the wide gaps in his knowledge of the magical world, Harry knew there was something wrong.

As the petite redhead turned, her hair shifting as if ruffled by a breeze only she could feel, Harry felt something grip his stomach with panic as he saw the expression on her face. Her eyes were open, she was blinking but her gaze was glassy, unfocused. Had she been poisoned? Or controlled?

His stomach rolled with fear at the thought Ginny was under a Dark spell. And he had no idea how to stop it or help her. She didn't look as if she was in pain though. She looked almost happy. Her cheeks were pink, as if she was blushing or from laughing. It was a twinge of guilt he felt then, aware he had rarely spoken to the youngest Weasley. And he knew just how hard the first year could be.

Gathering his courage, he stepped down onto the common room floor only to stop. Ginny had stopped dancing. His heart restarted for a second before puzzlement flooded him once more. Still levitating almost a foot off the ground, he watched as she walked genteelly towards the stairs to the girls' dormitories. Narrowing his eyes despite the glare bouncing off his glasses, he could see that Ginny looked as if…

As if she was holding someone's hand.

With a shiver, Harry watched as the glowing figure in a white nightgown slowly walked up the stairs. Waiting until she turned a corner and the radiance disappeared into the shadows, he sighed and slid down the wall. Unease still pooled in his stomach, but he had no idea what to do or how to stop it. Even as Ginny had been dancing, he had found himself incapable of moving, almost as if he had been hypnotized by her graceful movements.

Still, at least it was Christmas.

"Harry. Harry?" Blinking owlishly, he turned to see his best friend with rather flushed cheeks. Hopefully Hermione would keep Ron from drinking too much. After all Ginny had threatened her brothers at wandpoint not to do anything to ruin her precious day. With a grin he slapped the back of the ruddy cheeked man who sat down beside him.

"She looks beautiful doesn't she?" Harry smiled at his friend's light hearted remark. Ginny really did look stunning. Her flame coloured hair was held up in some elegant complicated twist that had Fleur in tears. He couldn't love his wife more for choosing to wear a muggle wedding gown.

She had made the choice because she felt the dress was more form fitting, more alluring than a set of robes. Harry knew it wasn't her real reason. And he appreciated her all the more for not making a fuss. Or giving Molly the opportunity to make a fuss.

He watched as Ginny was twirled carefully by her father, making sure not to step on her dress. As sweet as the moment was, his radiant bride being guided by her father, Harry couldn't help but remember what he had witnessed all those years ago.

Thank you very much for reading. Hope you enjoyed and I would love to read any comments, questions, anything.

Suils