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Words : 6399
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The dress went down to her knees, modest enough, yet inviting. A darker shade of silver cloth hugged her slender waist. The upper part of the dress was only held by a pair of thin laces that laid softly on her creamy skin. Her bronze hair moved softly as she tilted her head, framing her beautiful face. Her eyes shone in jubilance, radiating the light to the rest of her being.
Harry couldn't understand how he didn't see it before.
"You look good."
Renesmee beamed, and this time, Harry was glad for the sunglasses, because his eyes refused to look away.
Chapter 11 – The Wedding
Harry straightened the tie on his neck. The room inside the tent was ghostly, despite the thick enthusiasm in the air. The crowd was still roaring outside the tent, busy with their own chores, sounding like a pack of mean, raging bees. The obscure mirror he was staring at showed Ronald Weasley shifting uneasily at the back of the room, trying to flatten his already flat bang.
"This is not gonna work. Bloody hell," Ron said over and over again, like a broken stereo. "She doesn't like too much spotlight, does she? The dancers are still not here—"
"Ron, it will be fine," Harry reassured his best friend, ignoring the sweats on his palm. "This is Hermione we're talking about. She'll love it even if you propose in a fast-food restaurant."
"Fast-food restaurant..?" Ron asked, confused, momentarily distracted from his contagious anxiety.
"They came!" Renesmee barged in, relief evident in her voice. "The dancers are here. The elves too, and they insist to help, but we forced them to sit."
"See?" Harry gestured to Renesmee, who had her hair up, a delicate lock falling before her right ear. She barely had any make up on her face, yet still, she glowed. "There's no need to worry. Everything's gonna be fine, Ron."
"Yeah," Ron's voice was cracking. "Sure."
"Come on," Harry held his shoulders. "Stand up. She'll be here any minute."
Ron nodded shakily, before he walked alongside Harry outside the tent. Renesmee had long disappeared, and ahead them was the huge crowd walking around in hurry, variant colors of their clothes seemed to illuminate the place. What used to be the intersection of Diagon, Mort and Knockturn alley now had turned into an expanded field that was twice as vast—possibly even more—as Hogwart's Great Hall. Three hundreds of floating lanterns had brightened the usually gloomy place, as well as the sea of the stars above the preparing event. The scent of various flowers that decorated the outline of the place lingered in the air, giving Harry an odd sense of tranquility. In the middle, there was a big water fountain that had the water linked with a canal through the front side. The sight of store buildings stayed, as the only thing that reminded folks that this, in fact, was the Alley Intersection.
On the farthest part of the area, a small community of house-elves sat, looking slightly green at the thought of being served. A few gave mean looks towards the butlers that were too busy to even notice, with their wands flicking to countless floating champagne bottles, seats preparations, and a few mops that were magically rubbing the already shiny floor. The maids were still arranging the food—out of sight, of course—especially the wedding cake that was still carefully hidden. The guests—that consisted of families, friends, and the local shop owners—were chatting joyfully across the room. In the western and eastern side, a horde of photographers and journalists claimed their spot, all ready with the quills and cameras. Harry saw no Rita Skeeter in the field, and breathed a sigh of relief.
A group of giggling French veelas passed, and while the usual Ron would spend minutes gaping at them, this nervous, pale Ron didn't even spare a glance.
Molly Weasley rushed through the throng, her eyes full of tears. "Ronald! Oh, baby, I'm so proud of you!"
"Mum," Ron's ears turned red. But instead of shrugging it off, he embraced his mum tightly.
Beside her, Arthur Weasley also emerged, wearing the best suit Harry had ever seen him in. "I'm proud of you, son," He smiled, stroking his son's hair, before turning to Harry. "Harry. Good to see you."
"You too, Mr. Weasley."
Molly turned to see him, looking as though as she wasn't aware of his presence. "Harry! It's been so long, dear. Where have you been?" She said in her usual loud voice, pulling Harry into a hug.
Harry grinned. "A lot of places."
"Well, you sure look thinner than I last saw you," She reprimanded, but it wasn't for long, because she noticed the balloons that were strapped at the northern pillar were already flying. "Oh, I'll be right back, dear."
Arthur disappeared along with his wife, leaving Ron and Harry alone in the middle of the chattering crowd.
"Ron. You can do this. You hear me?" Harry held his shoulders, gazing right into Ron's blue eyes. "Everything is going to be perfect. Hermione is out there—waiting for you. Well, she doesn't really know that she's waiting, but you'll welcome her. You'll welcome her as a member of your family, and promise her to do everything a husband can for his wife. Only Ronald Weasley can do that for her."
Ron's eyes flickered up to meet with green, and his shoulders slumped. He let out a shaky breath. "Thank you, Harry."
Still a bit pale, Ron went to contact Luna, whose task was to guide Hermione there. Meanwhile, Harry strode quickly to the front, where George was in charge of keeping the magical barrier up. He had four other people doing the same job, resulting a perfect disillusion that completely hid the enormous event behind the facade of an empty intersection. Harry decided against talking with George, since the task he was dealing with required deep concentration. So he moved along, chatting animatedly with a few acquaintances that he managed to spot in the crowd. He chatted for awhile with Hagrid, then Neville, Professor McGonagal, and a few others that weren't so caught up by their business. A pang of sadness pierced through his heart, as every familiar faces reminded him of his school days—days truly worthy of being remembered.
Out of the whole lot, Harry definitely didn't expect to see Draco Malfoy.
Draco was standing against a pillar, with a drink in hand, obviously not caring that nobody else had already drunk. Harry positioned himself next to see him, ignoring his yelp of surprise.
"Draco."
"Potter," He empathized, as keen as usual to remind Harry that they were school rivals. "I knew you'd be here."
"Well, yeah," Harry nodded. "It's you that I didn't know would be here, though."
"I didn't know either," Draco admitted quietly. "I was surprised to see the invitation. Mother comes, but Father is still bedridden."
"Bedridden?"
Draco looked annoyed at Harry's peering, but answered nonetheless. "Too much exposure of Cruciatus curse. Old age multiplies the problem."
"Ah," Harry nodded. He did feel bad for Malfoy senior. "I'm sorry to hear that. I hope he'll get better soon."
"I doubt that," Draco sneered. "But me too, Potter. Me too."
Whatever Harry had expected of trying to approach Draco Malfoy, it went better than he expected. Their decision to leave the war at the second stage as a neutral party was admirable, and was what had saved them from Azkaban, as well as Narcissa's little help to Harry's victory. However, they became a mockery among the surviving dark wizards, and when the officials were not looking, a few attacks were directed towards the Malfoy Manor. Harry suggested a Fideleus charm, at least until the situation had calmed down, but Narcissa refused. The assaults weren't kind—added by the fact that Lucius Malfoy was a loyal death eater that received the end of Cruciatus curse daily, the problem proliferated.
Harry was recalled to his surroundings when George used the Sonorus spell. "THERE SHE IS! GET TO YOUR POSITIONS!"
A few grunts, even shrieks, filled the area. Harry tried to sneak to the front, but the crowd was wild, in panic with their own tasks and concerns.
"HARRY POTTER!" George's voice boomed. "I REPEAT, WE NEED ONE HARRY POTTER HERE!"
"Here!" Harry shouted back, though he knew it was helpless. He sighed in defeat, before disapparating right behind George, knocking him over. "Sorry, George."
"We'll talk about that later," George grunted, rubbing his sore butt. "Get to your position!"
After he was on his position, the crowd began to calm down. Harry saw Ron's red hair in the midst of the crowd, but before he could catch Ron's eyes, Hermione had appeared in the silent hallway.
Luna was walking alongside her, holding a cup of coffee carefully so that she wouldn't spill it on Hermione's ministry uniform. Hermione was smiling, as they were caught in a small talk, her bushy hair tied up. On her hands was a huge stack of papers that would possibly be her unfinished paperwork. By the ease of holding it, Harry suspected the papers were charmed with a feather-light spell.
Harry waved his wand to listen better, as well as several others.
"—I mean, yes, the officials are supposed to uphold the integrity. But how does that link to this massive amount of paperwork? They're all pointless, if you ask me. The stock of automated-writing quills are mysteriously missing, and this stuff about maintaining relationship with other nations couldn't possibly hold this amount of paperwork.."
Harry stifled a laugh when Kingsley, the Minister of Magic, winked at him.
"Hmm," Luna responded, with the same dreamy look on her face.
"I've been doing this since the morning, and now it's—" Hermione took a quick look on her hand, "—seven in the evening and I'm still not halfway through! That git Ronald Weasley refuses to help me, after what I've done to his paperwork last month—"
George, still in the Sonorus, barked a laughter.
"Maybe he's busy," Luna suggested, smiling with her wide, blue eyes.
"I doubt that," Hermione rolled her eyes. "So, Luna, what is it that you're going to buy?"
The two were now standing exactly in the front row, George only inches away from Luna. The crowd was unnecessarily silent, as Hermione tapped her right foot impatiently, looking at the golden-haired witch.
Suddenly, Luna disapparated, and as Hermione's jaw hit the ground for Luna's rudeness, George dropped the barrier.
The crowd erupted. A massive amount of confetti flew in the air. Fifty dancers spinned, the front ten ones being veelas, moving gracefully as Renesmee 'dropped the bass'. At the western and eastern side of the area, colors emerged from the bottom of the building, matching the rhythm of the affluent tunes that boomed loudly in the area. The fountain shot a tall water pillar, colored by the spell that spiraled it, causing it to appear like a gigantic transparent replication of DNA. Various colorful lights burst from the back of the room, speeding through the sea of people, before cycling a gaping Hermione, then exploding in the night sky.
The stack of paper fell freely from Hermione's hand, but someone on the front had already levitated it, securing it somewhere safe.
"I—what—" Hermione stuttered, her eyes as wide as saucers.
Harry arose from the wild skit, trying his best to keep walking calmly, a bright grin on his face. Hermione's still flabbergasted face turned to him, then, in an instant, she was already in his arms, giving a hug that nearly knocked him down. Her eyes went back and forth between her surrounding and Harry, mouth opening and closing. Harry grinned even more broadly.
"Surprise."
"What are you doing here?!" Hermione was finally able to form a coherent sentence, albeit small, amidst the loud tunes Renesmee had arranged. "What is this—Merlin's balls.."
But Harry simply shook his head, and locked Hermione's arms with his. They walked further into the field, the tenacious dancers slowly opening a path, clearing the way towards the tall water fountain. Harry exchanged a few grins with the people he was familiar with, that were lining up by their side, throwing rose petals. On the top of the water pillar, stood a young man with a black suit, contrasting his flaming red hair.
"RON?!" Hermione blurted out, and this time Harry couldn't hold his laughter. As well as a few people who knew Hermione—George was roaring with laughter in the front, Sonorus still in effect. Harry could see Bill and Fleur together, standing with the crowd, laughing along Molly, Arthur and Kingsley who were standing next to the fountain. Ron still didn't turn around, but even in this distance Harry could tell that Ron's ears were red.
By the time they arrived at the stairs that were just now conjured, Harry released Hermione's hand. Her eyes still wide, and as her body trembled, Harry embraced her once more, before letting her walk her own path towards the nervous ginger.
When Hermione's feet had perfectly stepped on the charmed, floating water, the stairs disappeared, and Ron turned around.
The music converted into a soft, beautiful tune. Ron pursed his lips, as his eyes shone in determination, as he held both of Hermione's trembling hand. Harry felt something twist inside him—a sense of dread, yet also happiness. The two most important people in his life were about to be united, forever, leaving him alone behind. He could feel tears in his eyes already, although the smile plastered on his face was a good indication for anyone that he was just as happy as the two.
"Hermione," Ron started; his voice rang with yet another Sonorus, "The first time we met, I thought you were an annoying, little know-it-all."
The people laughed, as well as Hermione, who now has tears streaming down her face.
"But slowly, after I spent years and years with you, by my side, helping me.. being patient for the git I've been.. I finally knew just how much—how much you mean to me," His voice cracked. "I love you. With everything I am. The bad, the good. You're gonna have it both ways if—if—Hermione, will you marry me?"
Hermione's shoulder shook, as she seemed to have an urge to look down, covering her face, but Ron held her together, forcing her to meet his eyes. Seconds passed, as the only thing producing sound in the room was the lullaby that had been played.
"Yes," Hermione nodded. "YES!"
Hermione sprung her arms around Ron's neck, and at that very moment, a burst of Firework sped up to the sky, forming the words 'SHE SAID YES!', along with the others, painting the sky with 'WELCOME TO THE WEASLEYS'.
Before Hermione had the time to recover, a group of small house-elves rotated her, kidnapping her from the beaming Ron, right into the tent in the eastern side. By the moment she entered, the wizards in charge waved their wands around, transforming the place almost entirely. The platform was conjured, along with a very large amount of seats. Harry ran past the business, straight into the tent.
He really should have thought before barging in, because of the high chances of Hermione still changing, but thankfully, she was now fully dressed in a white gown. Renesmee was still painting her face with equipment Harry didn't really want to know. Upon seeing Harry, Hermione abruptly left her seat, right into Harry's arms. On the corner of his eyes, he saw Renesmee rolling her eyes, even though there was a smile on her face.
"HARRY!" She breathed. "Oh, Merlin—Thank you, thank you so much—"
"Was it great?" Harry asked, knowing full well she loved it.
"Beautiful," She whispered. "Oh, crap, I think I'm going to cry again.."
"I see you've met Renesmee," Harry gestured to Renesmee, who was now standing near them, looking highly amused. "She's the one who arranged the whole decoration, music thing."
"Thank you!" Hermione burst out, suddenly embracing Renesmee, who was wide-eyed by the gesture. Slowly, Renesmee's hands circled around Hermione's back. "Thank you so much.."
"My pleasure," Renesmee practically glowed. "Come on, I'm going to get you done first."
Harry excused himself to stand by Ron's side. Ron, who was now in a white suit, was still looking rather pale even though there was now a light in his eyes that he didn't have minutes ago. Ron hugged Harry briefly before standing in the platform. His gaze flickered briefly to where Molly was standing together with Hermione's mother, only to find Ginny's spot still empty. He then stood by George, Bill, Charlie, Percy and Arthur, the latter being teary-eyed. George kicked Harry's foot, snickering. "That's for my butt."
His eyes watering in pain, Harry, along with everyone else, turned his attention to the tent's opening curtain. From the inside of the tent, Hermione came into sight, her arms linked with her father's. At the same time, Renesmee was already playing the grand piano at the west of the platform, right where Harry could watch her. Her hands were dancing leniently upon the piano tuts. A soft smile braced her face, enjoying the music she was displaying. A beautiful, sweet tune that Harry found extremely enticing, like the sound of calm, peaceful salvation.
"Ladies and gentlemen," said a sing-song voice that Harry was familiar with, and with a shock, Harry saw the same small, tufty-haired who had presided Dumbledore's funeral as well as Bill's and Fleur's wedding, standing in front of Ron and Hermione. "We are gathered today to celebrate the union of two faithful souls.."
George breathed an uncharacteristic sigh of happiness. Bill and Fleur were staring at each other, obviously drowning in nostalgia. Arthur kept on nodding vigorously, looking as though as he wanted to jump in joy. The faces of the crowd were all positively gleeful, even Draco Malfoy, who tried to hide his smile in the second row. It seemed like it was only Harry that was rather knocked off by the strong sense of Deja Vu.
"Do you, Ronald Billius, take Hermione Jean..?"
Molly and Hermione's mother were now sobbing quietly. Hermione had tears glistening in her eyes, accompanied with a bright, wide smile that her cheek might hurt. Even Renesmee had a handkerchief in her hands, somehow managing to keep the music flowing steadily as one of her hands wiped her tears. This time, Harry was also visited by the weird sensation; a mixture of dread, excitement, and longing.
"..then I declare you bonded for life."
Ron pulled Hermione into a deep kiss. George led a round of applause, looking to his right only to find it was empty. Harry squeezed George's shoulder, as multiple fireworks shot across the black sky, producing a huge, bright 'W' symbol. Golden balloons pushed out confetti. A couple of Patronuses—mostly from the Weasleys—roamed around the front side. Whistles were heard from the crowd when Ron refused to leave Hermione's lips, as well as a few chuckles and a lot of clearing throats.
Soon, the seats had vanished. The field was transformed into extensive dance floor. The lights also vanished, replaced by small colorful candles floating mid-air, illuminating the nebulous place. Ron and Hermione were the first to dance, right in the centre of the hall, followed by Molly with Mr. Granger and Arthur with Mrs. Granger.
Harry knew Renesmee would be ecstatic to dance, so he searched around for the bronze-head. He could not find her anywhere in this multitude of wizards, therefore he decided to take one of the floating drinks and take a seat.
Couples poured down the dance floor after the first song ended. Mr. Granger took his daughter into a dance that would probably be their last. Ron took Molly's hand, who was still sobbing. Bill and Fleur entered the dance gracefully. Neville, who earlier was chatting nervously to the dark-haired witch who owned 'Giselle Fontaine's boutique', was dragged into the dance by the said witch. Draco seemed awestruck by the fact that one of the veela was holding his hand. Even Percy, who once claimed he never danced, was walking into the event with a Quidditch star whose face Harry recognized from newspapers. However, what Harry found the most shocking was George dancing with Luna, a rather obvious blush on both of their faces.
Once the second song ended, Harry walked into the dance floor to take Hermione. As he passed, he saw Renesmee chatting with George.
"—Hello, kind sir!" Renesmee grinned, before turning to Luna. "Hi. I'm Renesmee."
Upon learning Luna's name, Renesmee freaked out. She clearly had figured it out, since Luna's pen name, in fact, was "Looney Lovegood". She pulled a dazed Luna from the crowd, an excited gleam in her eyes. Meanwhile, George looked torn between feeling annoyed and amused, thus he decided to take Giselle Fontaine, his fellow neighbor in Diagon Alley, to a dance. Shaking his head in amusement, Harry finally found Hermione.
"Harry," Hermione smiled broadly. She took Harry's offered hand.
Instead of truly dancing, Hermione and Harry rotated in their location, forming an infinite square. They didn't mind much about dancing, because both were too caught up in relieving old memories, laughing until their eyes watered or until some amused glances were thrown in their direction. But Harry couldn't care. This was his best friend, who was going to be a wife, or possibly a mother soon. He felt old. It was as though as he was an elder, watching his children moving out to start their own family, excluding him, leaving him alone in a dusty old house.
Quite a good analogy, Harry'd say, as his mind went to Grimmauld Place.
"Promise me you're going to give me the godfather title."
Hermione smacked him. "Harry! I just got married tonight!"
"Ah, well, preparations," Harry sniggered. "And name it after me, will you? Harry Weasley is pretty cool."
"Sorry, but I would like a meaningful, intelligent name for my kid, you see," Hermione quipped good-naturedly. "James is a good idea, though."
The third song lasted too quickly, but before Harry could say anything, Hermione was passed to Neville. He patted Neville's shoulder before moving again, searching for the bronze-haired girl. However, Harry found her already occupied with George. They were snickering at some not-so-witty jokes. He went back to take a seat again, but a golden-haired witch was standing behind him.
"Luna," Harry greeted her. "I didn't see you there. Care for a dance?"
"I'd love to," Luna nodded happily. "Thanks, Harry."
Harry found it staggering that it was very easy for him to talk to Luna. She talked a lot of things he didn't understand, of course, but his mind had learned to put it aside and listened to her feelings on that matter. Luna was surprisingly a sensitive person, despite the strong carelessness she appeared to have. Perhaps that was what led her to that way of thinking—her father's influence, added by Luna's own feeling on the issue.
"Renesmee's a strong girl, isn't she?" Luna said out of blue, in the same dreamy voice as usual. "Even though she's not a full vampire, it must be hard to stay with so many humans."
Harry nearly stepped on Luna's feet.
"What?" He asked, feigning confusion.
"Oh, I won't tell anybody," Luna reassured him. "There a lot of wrackspurts around her head, but not as many as a vampire. She didn't exactly tell me, but I understand."
Harry had almost forgotten how perceptive Luna really was. "..I know you won't tell anyone. I trust you."
"Thank you," Luna beamed.
Harry didn't say anything else. Just like with Renesmee, with Luna, silence is comfortable. He was peering at Renesmee who was still laughing with George. In the middle of talking, her eyes caught his, and she winked.
"Do you want to become a vampire, Harry?"
Harry stumbled, knocking a dumbfounded Draco. "Watch it, Potter."
"Sorry," Harry mumbled, before taking Luna's hand again. "What?"
"I asked if you want to become a vampire," Luna said, amusement written all over her face. "Of course, your magic will vanish, but sometimes, it's a worthy price, isn't it?"
Luna's head turned to the direction of George and Renesmee, the latter laughing freely at whatever the ginger had said. They were dancing even more gracefully than Bill and Fleur, and seemed to find every little thing around them amusing. Watching her laughter, Harry could practically hear her musical laugh ringing in his mind, like the sound of chiming bell.
"See?"
"Yeah," A smile crept its way to Harry's face. "I do."
Yet another song ended. Harry hugged Luna briefly—which she returned with so much enthusiasm that nearly stumbled—before he strode towards Renesmee who was still talking to George, not yet aware of his presence.
"—talk to you later."
Harry froze in his steps. He knew the voice that spoke right behind his back too well. His brain quickly processed the options he had—he could pretend he didn't hear anything, and save himself from whatever it was that crushed his insides, or spin around to face the ginger.
Before his brain could really decide anything, Harry had already spun around. Ginny Weasley was standing in a low-cut red dress that resembled Hermione's in Bill and Fleur's wedding. She let her straight ginger hair down to her shoulder. She smiled prettily to someone Harry couldn't see in the crowd. Then she turned around to meet his eye, becoming as wide-eyed as he was.
"Ginny," Harry started.
"Harry," She replied, not missing a beat.
They did nothing but looking at each other's faces for awhile. Harry cleared his throat. "Er—would you like to dance?"
"Sure," Ginny said, looking at Harry's offered hand briefly before taking it.
What followed was the longest silence Harry had ever been in. It stretched on almost painfully, intensified by the fact she refused to meet his eyes. Finally, Harry spoke, "So, how's everything been?"
"Great," answered Ginny. "We won the World cup."
"What?" This took Harry's attention."When?"
"Have you been living under a rock?" Ginny retorted, but it quickly died on her lips. "April 25th."
"Against Viktor Krum?" Harry had to ask, still disbelieving. Holyhead Harpies didn't exactly seem that good..
"Well, yeah," Ginny looked uncomfortable.
"Congratulations," Harry said, not knowing what else to say.
The silence dragged on. Ginny spoke again, this time quietly. "I waited for you to show up."
Whatever he expected her to say, it certainly wasn't this. "I—Sorry. I was in Hawaii."
"Yeah," She nodded, unclear whether it was brushing him off or showing understanding. "George was also in Hawaii."
"Yeah," Harry nodded too. "We met."
He inwardly kicked himself, trying to force anything to come out. But in the end, the silence won, and the song was over. Ginny smiled, to which Harry replied. Other people had changed their couples and prepared for the next song. Some even escaped the hall out of fatigue. But they simply stood there, unmoving. When Ginny finally opened her mouth, a big hand touched her shoulder.
Viktor Krum stood beside her, his broad shoulders sheltering half of her figure from Harry's view. "Hello, Harry."
"Viktor," Harry greeted back, a tad surprised. "It's been a long time."
"It is," Viktor replied smoothly. "Vot have you been doing?"
"Travelling around, enjoying life," Harry shrugged.
Viktor grunted in agreement. They fell into silence. Ginny shifted.
"Vell," Viktor broke the silence. "I guess I'll see you around, Harry."
Viktor whirled, along with Ginny who casted one last unreadable glance at Harry. They were walking together closely—too close. Viktor's big hand touched Ginny's shoulder, before it slowly drifted, resting at her waist.
"This girl is very nice-looking," Krum said, recalling Harry to his surroundings. Krum was pointing at Ginny, who had just joined Luna. "She is also a relative of yours?"
"Yeah," said Harry, suddenly irritated, "and she's seeing someone. Jealous type. Big bloke. You wouldn't want to cross him."
Krum grunted.
"Vot," he said, draining his goblet and getting to his feet again, "is the point of being an international Quidditch player if all the good-looking girls are taken?"
Cold ice ripped Harry's chest. He felt sick, as if something had churned his insides, twisting it until it tied into a painful, tight knot. The open hall suddenly seemed so packed. Too many people were around, and among them, the only ones his eyes could comprehend was the flaming-haired girl that was now dancing intimately with the huge Quidditch star.
"She holds the card now," Hermione's voice rang in his head.
Everything seemed frozen. His brain had forgotten the fun he had earlier—Hermione's grin, Ron's nervousness, George's snicker. Hate radiated through his veins, directing only at himself. It was like a poison, exploding in his head, before slowly flowing through all of his body, leaving the parts it touched numb.
Then he snapped from his gaze, walking abruptly towards the girl that was once the gravity point of his life. Both of them heard his footsteps and turned immediately. Viktor's face flashed a hint of deep dislike, but Ginny's stoic face flashed something—close to surprise, but not quite yet.
"Can I have one more dance?" Harry asked, fully looking at Ginny. "There's something I'd like to talk about."
If Viktor tried to mask his annoyance before, he did no effort to hide it now. Ginny's eyes traveled back and forth until it finally landed solely on Harry.
"Sure," Ginny answered slowly, ignoring Viktor's faint growl.
Viktor didn't move at first, but then he nodded briskly, leaving without a word.
Harry took Ginny's hand. "I thought Viktor is here for Hermione."
"He is," Ginny agreed. "But also for me."
"I figured," Harry muttered. "When—when exactly?"
"I don't know. Somewhere before the World cup. Probably the second week of March."
A voice roared inside his head, pointing out how fast—how easy—it was for her to forget about him. It was easy to give in to his anger—to direct it at anyone else rather than that projecting it on himself. But he swallowed. "Okay."
This answer seemed to throw her off guard. "Okay?"
"You've cut your ties with me the last time we met," The voice in his head exploded at his resigned, weak answer. "I don't expect you to keep waiting for me."
Harry swallowed the lump in his throat when hurt showed in her face. "Do you even want me to keep waiting for you? Didn't think that I might need a few persuasions to take you back? Didn't think that I somehow still waited for your tiny foolish brain to figure out what's wrong and try to fix it?"
They had stopped dancing now. A part of Harry's mind was grateful for the fact that they were at the corner of the hall, hidden behind a pillar.
"I loved you," Harry muttered. "I did. I do."
"Then you should've done something about it!" Ginny's voice raised, and Neville and his date spared them a curious glance. "You're a fighter, Potter. I thought I was worth much more to you—at least to fight for."
"I was giving you the time to cool down!" Anger was leaking from him now. "You thought I wouldn't fight for you? I would! I gave you the time to cool down, to wait—"
"What? Wait for you?" Ginny laughed harshly. It didn't sound like the red-haired girl he knew at all.
"No, wait for yourself," Harry snapped. "Until you're ready. Until you're ready to face me again—"
"Don't make me sound like it was me who's the problem!"
"I don't!" Harry retaliated. "I don't, alright? I know it was me who's the problem, and it would be nice if you could see what I'm trying to say than focusing on tiny little details that shouldn't matter!"
Ginny was enraged. "—shouldn't matter—?"
"Look," A modicum of calm washed over him. Wandlessly, he put a muffliato. "I love you, Ginny. So much—"
"You did a pretty good job proving that!" Ginny shouted.
"Please," Harry closed his eyes. Please control yourself. "Let me finish."
"Why should I?" Ginny quipped, not kindly. "Why should I give you another chance? Did you even care for me, Harry? Did it even cross your mind that I could find someone else? SOMEONE THAT ACTUALLY CARED FOR ME!" Ginny spat, her voice cracking. "You weren't there when I need you. You were always busy with yourself, because it's all that matters, right? Can you even love someone, Harry? Unconditionally? Put her above everything?"
Harry's anger died down for a quick moment. Without his consent, his mind drifted to the beautiful bronze-haired girl, smiling brightly. Like the sun. "I can."
Ginny ignored his answer. "Viktor does a good job. He cares for me, he loves me, he does everything I want him to. He's a real gentleman. He understands my passion, my dreams, my heart. He's the perfect man for someone like me, who cares too much than I should've—"
"YOU'RE RIGHT!" Harry roared. "YOU'RE RIGHT, AND I WAS WRONG. IS THAT WHAT YOU WANTED TO HEAR?"
"I WANT TO HEAR THAT YOU CARE FOR ME, YOU BRAINLESS GIT!" Ginny screamed at his face, tears finally streaming down her face. "THAT YOU WOULD FIGHT FOR ME! YOU COULD'VE DONE SOME GRAND GESTURE TO WIN ME BACK IF YOU DIDN'T HAVE A STICK FAR UP YOUR ARSE! Merlin, what—what did I see in someone as egoistical as you—"
"Egoistical?" Harry repeated mechanically.
"EGOISTICAL! YOU'VE ALWAYS BEEN, SINCE THE WHOLE YOU-KNOW-WHO HUNTING—"
"EGOISTICAL IS IT, WHEN ALL I WANTED WAS TO KEEP YOU SAFE?" Harry exploded. "EGOISTICAL IS IT, WHEN I ALWAYS THOUGHT BACK TO YOU, WONDERING HOW YOU MUST BE FEELING, WHEN I WAS UNDER VOLDEMORT'S MERCY?"
Ginny shouted something, but he couldn't hear. She pointed her wand at him shakily.
Her move ticked something inside of Harry. Something erupted, and all Harry could see was red. All he could focus on was the crying face of the woman who used to mean the world to him. He craved to let it out, wondering how red her blood must be..
A soft hiss echoed inside his head. 'Master.'
His mind quickly scanned their surroundings. A few glances were thrown at their direction, but it was easy to take care of later. Whatever it was, something inside of him had won. The adrenaline of victory had filled him with energy that he could feel generating in his chest. He wondered, how nice it would be to experience the life-time thing of watching death drawing closer..
A cold hand—yet felt so warm—gripped his shoulder, and the boiling stopped. He could still the power, the surging emotions begging to be outside. He didn't need to see who it was. He could feel the warmth, not from the touch, but from the support bracing him. He closed his eyes, focusing on the small bit of sensation on his shoulder. It probably was a mere imagination—but he could feel it, the warmth the girl was radiating to him.
Then his vision was suddenly not his anymore. Unlike the first time, he allowed himself to relax. The first image was Grimmauld Place; his dusty, dark home before they were touched. Then he watched himself at the Florean's Ice Cream Parlour, grinning with his glasses at stupid hat. The image drifted to the night full of colorful Fireworks in Japan; Renesmee's hand was near his. It flickered again, going through a load of memories very quickly, as if she was looking through memories to search for the right one. His solemn look at the shrine. His unconscious self, trapped in the muggle hospital bed. His drunk face grinning at one of George's stupid jokes. His pained face in George's hospital room. Then it stopped, only to switch into one last image. Renesmee who was fixing her hair in front of a mirror, her eyes watching Harry in the reflection, a breath-taking smile on her face.
Harry opened his eyes. Instead of Ginny's face, it was Renesmee who was standing in front of him.
"Renesmee," His lips moved.
She gave him a half smile. "Better?"
"Yeah."
For a fraction of second, it felt like there was nothing but the two of them in this nebulous hall. But it ended just as fast as it started; he immediately realized Ginny's presence on his right, dangerously still.
"Who is this?" Ginny's voice shook. There was a small portion of fear in her eyes. Perhaps she saw the dark glint in his eyes earlier. But she moved forward, and Harry's suspicion evaporated. She was terrified, but it wasn't of him. "Who is this?"
There was something imminent to determination in Renesmee's eyes. "Renesmee Cullen. Pleased to meet you."
But Ginny was looking solely on Harry. He repeated, "Renesmee Cullen."
"You know bloody well what I mean, Harry," Ginny said softly, but Harry knew her better to know the meaning behind it.
"My traveling companion. She was running away from home, and saved my life."
Ginny's eyes refused to leave his. "She's been with you ever since?"
"What do you expect me to do?" Harry said quietly.
"Oh, I don't know," Ginny said sarcastically. "Caring for my feelings is obviously a too difficult task."
Harry didn't bother to keep any pretenses now. "I owe her a life debt. She cares for me as much as I care for her."
Her tears had long stopped. "More than you care for me, then."
Harry searched for something. Something that reminded him of the Ginny he fell in love with. The freckles, the long red hair, the scent of her neck, her red face when she was about to kiss him for the first time..
Everything was the same, yet so different.
He saw Viktor emerging from the curious crowd. There was a mixture of shock, confusion and fear in his face as he walked towards them.
"Why do you care?" Harry whispered harshly.
Viktor had arrived, but Harry was still staring intently at Ginny, who now had lost her earlier confidence. Something had torn between them. He didn't know how, but he couldn't find a bit of him to care.
"It was nice," He said. "Talking to you, that is."
Harry spun, dragging Renesmee with him. He forced himself to not look backwards, leaving Ginny and Viktor arguing behind his back. He could still feel Renesmee's warmth lingering at his mind. His fears gradually crippled his insides, like water spreading in a piece of paper. The anger, the horror, the sadness was battling inside his chest. But for now, he focused himself at the only thing that could keep him sane: Renesmee's warm presence by his side.
Harry's flashback with Krum was taken from Harry Potter and Deathly Hallows, chapter 8, page 150.
...Is the chapter too mushy? Please tell me your opinions. I found this chapter harder than usual to write. I hope I did okay, but please be honest in your reviews!
I made a new cover for the story, as you can see. I've mentioned that my Renesmee is Melissa Benoist, haven't I? She looks pretty close to Mackenzie Foy (The child Renesmee in Breaking Dawn Part 2), and she's gorgeous! Anyone who wants to see a closer look at the cover, here:
Put this (/p/dBu8_1xjrx) after the usual instagram link (instagram . com) - Without spaces between the characters!
Hey, only four days after the earlier update! Don't you think faster update deserves more reviews? ;)
Please review. They make my day! I don't mind flames, but if you think this chapter (or the story in general) sucks, tell me the reasons.
Love it, hate it, couldn't care less, let me know!