The whole thing happened all because of Hermione. She should take all the blame. After all, she was the one who came up with the completely… shall we say, unorthodox way of dressing up for the stupid Ministerial event.
It was two years after the events of the Battle of Hogwarts. I had just come back from training with the Harpies- and that was no joke. Usually, I had to reach training grounds by three a.m- what kind of timing was that?- and had to sneak out of the London flat both Harry and I shared, while the bloody git snored on.
Well, not snored on so much as cutely sniffled in his sleep, but you know what I mean.
Anyway, I got surprisingly released two hours earlier- at five rather than seven. And that was p.m, by the way. As I said, training with the Holyhead Bloody Harpies was no joke at all. But I was kind of used to the whole routine, so I was still full of adrenaline when I returned to the flat.
I probably needed it, anyway, when I saw the sight at the flat. Our flat's a big one- a nice view of the street- and there's even one of those cine-thingys where Muggles go to watch those moving portraits on a huge black screen. There is Starbucks too- I mean, the coffee there is the next best thing after Firewhiskey and Butterbeer.
Well, I digress. So there was I, dropping my training gear. Harry was home, because he got to stay in and not go to work during Saturdays. I say again, lucky git. Then again, that will not happen once he gets made Head Auror- Dad told me many people had made sure he was the once to replace Gawain Robards once he resigned. Poor boy doesn't know it too.
Hermione had laid out three identical black skinny jeans on the sofas and three identical silvery- black ties. She was also in her element, ranting at my poor brother and boyfriend. Both Ron and Harry didn't look as though they would be speaking any time soon.
"I will not have you both painting your faces Gryffindor colours along with George- this is an event in which we are supposed to talk about the victory of the battle and reminisce about it, for heaven's sake, not make complete fools of ourselves! I still haven't recovered from the mortification of-"
I decided to put the boys out of their misery and cleared my throat. Hermione gasped and turned around. "Gin!" She grasped me- but maybe bone- breakingly hugged me would be more appropriate- and looked at me, beaming. "The three of us- Harry, Ron and I- have decided to wear modest, same outfits for the Victory Ball- I mean, honestly, I am still mightily embarrassed from the Victory Ball last year, god forbid if I let them act like that again."
Harry was lazing around in a couch, still staring at the jeans in mute horror. "Hermione, that was 365 days ago," he pointed out, sounding like a teacher telling his stubborn student that cows simply didn't fly in the sky. I sniggered.
"I know how many days are there in a year, Potter, thank you very much," snapped Hermione at the snorting black haired boy on the couch.
As I stared at the jeans, I suddenly found myself wondering whether she had forgotten. "Hermione, it's a ball." I said, staring at her. She defiantly lifted her chin, bless her, and said, "So what?"
"So, you are a woman. You can't possible wear jeans to a ball!" I stared more at her, trying to stare at her with a have-you-forgotten-the-total-cute-blue-number-you-bought-at-the-the-mall-yesterday kind of look.
Her eyes widened. Ron will thank me tomorrow.
"Oh! Oh, I… then both of you, Ron and Harry, will have to wear these clothes tomorrow." I sniggered again at their horrified looks. "What? But- we will look- our outfits match for merlin's sake!" Ron spluttered.
"Ronald Weasley, are you trying to weasel out of this?" Hermione asked archly, effectively shutting her boyfriend up. "Both of you will wear this. No objections."
When Hermione gets that look, you shut up no matter what. So I stayed quiet. Anyway, Ron and Harry will look cute- like a duo kind of thing. Ron and Harry, meanwhile, gulped and nodded.
I wasn't complaining. I might even get to shock Harry with my pale green dress I bought at the mall yesterday- after all, it rather had a dangerous slit up the side. And I remembered to shave today morning too- it will be a win- win situation.
The evening of the Victory Ball, I made sure to pin up my hair- with chopsticks to make Harry absolutely mad- and I even wore those Jimmy Choo high heels Hermione let me borrow, although I think they were going to bust my feet in.
Hey, as they say… beauty over safety. Actually, Angelina said it, but its pretty much the same.
As I tottered down, proud of myself for making an effort- because usually I just go out wearing Harry's shirt and my jeans- I realized that Harry was still upstairs. Sitting down, I gazed idly at the stairs. Then I heard a frustrated growl that belonged to Harry.
Wondering exactly what had made him do that, I stood up. Then Harry came running down, looking majorly pissed off. I smiled at the fact that he looked angry enough to tear a bear to pieces, then I saw exactly how he looked like.
Holy bloody merlin, I thought, my jaw dropping. I needed to send Hermione a thank you card.
He was dressed in a white button-down shirt- he hadn't made an effort to tuck it in at all. His tie was loose- increasing his adorableness factor. If there was even such a word. But I wasn't thinking too much about proper grammar when I looked at the direction of his jeans.
He looked good. In fact, good wasn't even a good enough word to describe him. He filled out that pair of jeans in a way that should be made illegal. And his furious expression just made him look hotter. Hermione is my role model. I licked my lips as I roved my eyes down his figure.
"I had to lie down on the bed to zip up this stupid-" His voice trailed off. His emerald eyes got very wide. His skin abruptly lost all colour. "You- you- wow, Ginny, you look great!"
I surreptitiously checked the corner of my lips for drool. Finding none, I smiled my most dazzling smile at him. He smiled his crooked smile at him. Dear god, that smile should be made illegal for making women's knees go weak everywhere. He offered his arm. "Shall we go?"
For the thousandth time in my life, I was glad he was mine.
The ball was a disaster- only to me, anyway. Ron was only capable of drooling at Hermione all day, and Hermione seemed to be doing the same. It's a huge improvement from their rows, that's for sure.
But women from all walks of life were staring at my boyfriend. He fitted those jeans just too well- hell, even my Holyhead captain Gwenog Jones was staring at his bum! I had to grit ang gnash my teeth at anyone who got close.
As a result, I was tense all night, refused to dance with anyone, didn't even once kiss Harry- and mind you, we are famous for our public displays.
So, I wasn't really surprised when Harry pulled me out of the building. I followed him, just to see where he was headed. I also got to chance to ogle his behind… and then I realized he had led us to a place where we were surrounded by dumpsters.
I raised my eyebrows at him and he sighed. "You have been jumpy all day." He stated matter- of- factly. "You haven't kissed me once at all. You won't dance with anyone. You snapped at every woman not related to you by law or blood who got near me. What is wrong with you?"
"So I can kiss you now," I purred, pulling him to me. He resisted.
"I definitely know something is wrong with you. Come on, tell me."
"Fine!" I burst out. "You know why? Its because you have look completely, utterly, delicious in those damn jeans. And everyone knows it. And everyone has been looking at your bu- I mean, ogling you all day because you look just so hot! And I guess-" I bit my lip, my insecurities coming out. "I guess you might think that you could have many more women who are much more beautiful than me!" I looked at the floor. It was true. Here I was, with my stupid green dress and stupid high heels- how could he ever love me?
"Oh, Ginny," I heard him say softly. My breath caught in my throat- he sounded so tender, so affectionate. "When will you realize you are the only one for me- ever?"
I looked up and gasped. He was on his knees- was that a velvet box? The box held the most beautiful ring I had ever seen and my eyes teared up. "Oh, Harry…"
"Ginevra Molly Weasley, I love you. I love the way your hair looks like fire in the sunlight, I love the way you are so incredibly shy when someone compliments you. I love the way you don't know how beautiful you really look. I love the way you do not take any crap from anyone. I know that I do not deserve you-" here he smiled widely, "But I would like to spend the rest of my life trying to, at least. Will you marry me?"
I had the thought that he had just proposed to me in the back alley of the Ministry, surrounded by dumpsters. The proposal was so unmistakably Harry .
I nodded vigorously, then I shouted, "Yes, yes, hell yes!"
He apparated us to our flat, and then- well, you don't really have to know about that, do you?
The next day, I sent Hermione a thank you note and a box full of Chocolate Cauldrons.