Harry Potter was uncomfortable. Pulling once more at his bow tie, he attempted to loosen its grip on his neck and bring some oxygen to his starved lungs. As had happened the umpteen times he had tried this, it failed.
Giving up for now he stood back content to watch the room. It was hardly riveting stuff. Between himself and the exit a sea of Ministry officials were mingling, glasses of champagne in hand. They were in traditional wizard wear, but Hermione had made sure everything was tailored so that it fit him exactly. He couldn't deny that it was nice, but it seemed like so much effort for what was really just a 'meet'n'greet'. That and the amount of time he spent in the shop made him worry a little about his masculinity, ergo he had put his foot down at the manicure and haircut.
That said he was lucky that black was - as Hermione said - 'one of his colours'. The sleeves were trimmed with red, but that was the only colour on his person. He didn't envy the pasty faced bureaucrats melting in their ensembles, too proud to take off a layer… or seven.
The Olympian Hall was massive. Around the circular room were pillars, each carved to resemble one of the twelve Olympians from which the place got its name. Both the statues and the ceiling were marble, but along the grains it seemed to sparkle, giving an ethereal effect.
The last time he had been here was to give a speech after Voldemort's downfall, back then the room had been a lot different. Here they were chatting happily, whereas then everyone had been silent, waiting to hear first hand that Voldemort was indeed dead.
The cheers had apparently been deafening. He hadn't even heard them.
Now he actually appreciated the Grecian artwork. The mosaic that mapped the floor depicted Zeus giving magic to Merlin - it was often thought that he was the first true wizard. The orb held in the deity's hand seemed to glow, and Harry wondered if this was what his magical core looked like. Between the pillars of the gods and goddesses were frescos depicting scenes in wizarding history, and Harry's eyes were drawn to the newest one.
His eyes were made from emeralds, and they glittered in the light cast from the candles contained in the sconces. Voldemort's were made from rubies, the blood-like colour too close to the real thing in Harry's opinion. They were standing in the Great Hall, and the beams of light streaming from their wands had just connected. This image was moments before Voldemort's death, captured forever in stone and plaster.
"You know, admiring a fresco of yourself is borderline narcissistic," came a familiar voice. The smell of flowers assaulted his senses. Once upon a time he was desensitised, and it appeared that it was now fighting back with a vengeance, emblazing itself in his memory.
"Ginny, it's good to see you." Harry turned to see a woman standing behind him. He could still see the Ginny he had sat with on the Hogwarts grounds, but now she was bolder, more confident. The way she held herself, Harry saw a woman who had fought for her position and won. Her dress was red, encasing her form as if it were made especially for her frame. It was simple, but there was subtle beauty in the fabric as it shimmered beneath the flickering lights. Harry couldn't tell if it was the design or the texture, but either way it took his breath away and between that and his tie his oxygen consumption was rendered to zero.
"You too, Harry," replied Ginny, smiling at him. It was the first true smile he had seen her cast in a long time. "It's been too long."
Harry searched her cinnamon eyes, looking for some hint of malice in them. It had been years after all, and he had been less than fair to her. However, all he found was curiosity. Confidence renewed, he smiled at her. It was shy, but he hadn't had enough alcohol yet to bring out 'Confident Harry'. Although given the photos from New Year when he had drowned his sorrows with Ron and Hermione, 'Confident Harry' would never, ever see the light of day for the rest of his life.
"I'm sorry. I should have gotten in touch." They both knew that the apology was for more than just mere absence, but Ginny instead decided to treat it on face value.
"It's fine, with my schedule I'm happy if I have time for dinner," she laughed, and Harry swore the room brightened up. It was clichéd, and the moment he thought it he mentally slapped himself.
"Tell me about it," Harry couldn't remember the last night he had spent just relaxing. Instead, his evenings consisted of case reports, and cold pizza. It was rather sad that outside work, Ron, and Hermione, his closest relationship was with the delivery guy.
"So, what is happening in the Auror Office nowadays? From Ron's description, all you do is goof off," asked Ginny, a smile playing at her lips.
"Well, in between the card games we like to catch a few bad guys, got to keep up our reputation and all," replied Harry, trying to be nonchalant, and wishing that he had thought to take another drink. Maybe locking 'Confident Harry' up for life was a bad idea after all…
"I can't say the film business is much better really. Waiting round all day to shoot one scene is boring. I know everyone says it's part of the process, but why do people care if my make-up is skewed. No one looks perfect when they wake up!" laughed Ginny, her smile turning into a full-blown grin at her words.
"How do you survive? Being pampered, and fawned over!" gasped Harry, clutching his heart dramatically. He had been about to say 'You do,' but it was too soon for that, and for now it was best to keep the mood light.
"I know, it is quite the strenuous lifestyle," said Ginny, her voice taking on a tone that befitted a Jane Austen novel.
"Well, if you are bored, then maybe I could pop along. I've always wanted to know how to put make-up on," suggested Harry, his eyes twinkling slightly as the alcohol finally hit his blood system. Thank God for that!
"Sounds good, just ask Ron for my schedule and come when you're free. I can even throw a hairstyling lesson in it for you," replied Ginny, her grin growing a little bigger. Harry gulped, what had he gotten himself into? "Anyway, I need to go and find Kingsley, he's expecting me to help the muggle Prime Minister out."
"Oh, okay, bye," said Harry lamely, watching as she entered the throng of people. Glancing at his watch, he realised that it was almost ten. Pearson would be making the announcement soon.
Moving his thoughts back to Ginny, the first question on his mind was 'Did that really happen?' It had seemed so natural to talk to her, and he had actually found himself joking. Outside of Ron and Hermione, he rarely smiled, let alone joked. There was a bet going on amongst the junior Aurors that he was some sort of android. The older ones knew that he was just focused, and it had never bothered him.
Until now.
Seeing Pearson move up to the platform, he saw him cast the Sonorous charm before his voice boomed throughout the room.
"Ladies and gentlemen. I have the pleasure of introducing one of the most diligent wizard that I have ever had the good fortune to know," Harry began cringing at the introduction, now he just wanted the floor to swallow him up, "Harry Potter, many of you know him from his defeat of Voldemort, however, since then, he has matured to become something the wizarding world should be proud of not only for that one, heroic, deed," Harry saw Pearson grin in his direction. Bastard knew he was uncomfortable with this, "Due to this, I am proud to announce that he is my successor, and is now Head of the Auror Office. Harry, come up and say a few words."
Now he hadn't been expecting that.
Right now, Harry would rather face Voldemort again than go up on that stage.
Soon enough, he was facing everyone, all eyes were on him. He swallowed, his brain turning to mush. Eyeing the room, he saw Ginny next to Kingsley, she was trying not to laugh at how uncomfortable he looked. Christ, what the fuck was he supposed to say!
"Er... Thank you for your warm reception. I will do my utmost to fill the rather large shoes that Auror Pearson has left. However, I have faith in the department, and I have faith that I can carry it to new places. That is all I have to say, I'd rather let my, and my Aurors work speak for itself. Thank you."
Looking once more at Ginny, he saw her now look sombre, and hoped that she realised the change would also extend to his personal life as well.
It had been years since she had seen Harry. Too many years. Sometimes he graced the paper, but a fake smile here and there wasn't anything like the man himself. She recalled their break-up. Now she knew it had been for her best interest, but she had known the risks of dating The-Boy-Who-Lived. She was a more than capable witch, and at the time she thought that would be enough.
The Battle of Hogwarts had changed that.
For a moment she had thought he had died. In that moment, she would never forget the emotions that coursed through her fragile system. It was like a fist had seized her heart, paralysing it, and leaving her cold, the warm blood no longer being registered by her numb system. She wanted to run up to him, to make sure he was alright, but Ron had held her back, stopping her from heading to certain death. She never cared, at that point, she was beyond reason.
He was dead, and she was alone, her dream of their life together shattered and falling around her, piercing her skin, and making her bleed. In her mind, she had died too.
But then the world shifted once more. She saw him standing in the Great Hall, wand raised, eyes blazing, but more importantly, alive.
At first she never believed it. How could death be averted? But when she saw him going against the creature from her nightmares, the fear she felt was real. Her heart, frozen moments ago, sped up, shocking her with its intensity. In that moment she knew this was happening, and all she could do was watch.
Seeing Harry fighting Voldemort, she understood for the first time why he had wanted her kept out of it. Her experience with Riddle's diary was not enough to see the skeletal man trying to kill him. However, the rage she felt could have melted boulders, and need be she would have tried. For him she would have given her last seconds to a futile fight.
And then he left her.
Whilst everyone coped with Fred's death, the aftermath of the war, he slowly retreated. Only she, Ron, and Hermione noticed. The others were too caught up in their inner turmoil to see that their saviour was collapsing in on himself.
By the time everyone noticed, it was too late. Harry was too content to try and find answers in the bottom of a bottle, than listen to those who loved him.
He wasn't her Harry anymore.
At first she had been angry, trying to get him to snap out of it. Then, one day, she realised that she needed to move on. By constantly trying to clutch onto Harry, she wasn't getting past the war, forever being trapped in the past.
And so she let go, it was hard, but she couldn't be drowned along with him, he needed to ask for help before he snapped out of it, and pestering him wasn't helping.
Before she knew it, ten years had past, and she was here, seeing him for the first time in too long, standing before a fresco of the battle that had brought so many together, but had tore them apart.
He was thin, so thin. If her mother had seen him, she would have a fit, making him eat his weight in her delicious cooking before she was satisfied. His eyes were blazing, however, like they had during the duel that was swiftly becoming legend. It was if a film had been over them and it was slowly being removed. The eyes that were once covered by the cobwebs of the past were beginning to see again. It rejuvenated her hope, rekindling the flame that had once driven her round to his house everyday, determined to bring him out of his stupor.
Quite simply, it was nice.
As he spoke to her, their banter took her back to past times. She remembered the lazy days by the lake, dipping their feet into the cool water, laughing as the first years tried to approach the Giant Squid. Those days were carefree. They were happy, and then it had changed. Now, for the first time since then, she was seeing her old Harry... No, not hers, he never belonged to her anymore...
Through their conversation, Ginny could see what Hermione did. He wanted to change, to be himself again. She felt proud of him, feeling the old rush she got when he looked at her, the nerves that she thought she had been rid of long ago came creeping back, and she felt like a teenager again.
At the beginning of his speech, Ginny felt the old amusement crop up at the sight of him trying to speak to the masses. He looked uncomfortable, and as much as she felt sorry for him, it was quite funny. However, it wasn't lost on her that the last time he spoke here it was to confirm Voldemort's death. This speech erased the last memory, making the newest one one of joy. He had gotten what he had strived for. He had moved up, and was now trying to move on. The look he shot her at the end confirmed that, and she felt her heart swell.
That was the Harry she knew, and her eyes began to burn. Suppressing the tears, she turned to Kingsley. The man looked at her, his eyes shining with understanding.
"He's back," said the Minister, and Ginny thought those were the best words she had ever heard.
Now she had to look forward to him coming to see her. She hadn't been lying, being on set all day was draining, and she knew she wasn't going to be in the profession for the rest of her life. Part of her wanted to try Quidditch again, but it had been so long since she had played the sport, she wasn't sure if she still had it in her. Hmm, maybe she could rope Harry into a short game?
One thing she knew, was that the future was certainly brightening. Maybe she could have her happily ever after, but first she would have to show Harry what he was missing, give him a slice of life that was incredibly overdue.
Ginny Weasley couldn't wait.
A/N: I couldn't really find much to change here and so I'm updating quicker than I thought. Since I've combined two chapters, this is the last of the old ones, from here on in I'll be writing them as I go. Due to this the next update will be after Christmas. Happy Holidays!
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter.