CHAPTER EIGHT: 1999
"You two seem awfully fidgety," teased Demelza. "What, you expecting something this morning?"
Ginny and Hermione looked at each other from across the Gryffindor table and both blushed furiously.
"No," said Ginny forcefully, and hunched down to shovel her breakfast into her mouth.
"What would we be expecting?" asked Hermione, avoiding eye contact.
"Oh I don't know," said Demelza "maybe some lavish Valentine's Day gifts to arrive from your suitors?"
"No," Ginny and Hermione said at the same time.
"We agreed we'd do Valentine's Day during the Hogsmeade day next weekend," said Hermione shortly.
"Oh, but it won't be the same," said Demelza dramatically, still trying to get a rise out of them, "It's so tragic, being separated, but so romantic at the same time."
"You've been reading too many trashy books, Dem," said Ginny.
"It's just a day on a calendar," said Hermione dismissively, "Spending time with someone doesn't become more meaningful just because you do it on February 14th."
"And thank Merlin our boyfriends understand that too, and aren't trying to break into the school just to assert their territory," said Ginny, thinking back to her Valentine's Day disaster with Michael.
"They're both working very hard," said Hermione. "The Auror training program is normally tough enough, much less the fast-tracked version they're on, they have more important things to worry about."
But when they heard the screeching of owls, both Hermione and Ginny's head snapped up, looking around expectantly, and Demelza nearly fell on the floor from giggling.
But Hermione didn't even hear her as she spotted Pig flying chaotically toward her, swerving and bumping into other owls from being weighed down by the brown parcel he was carrying.
The small owl full-on crashed into her plate and collapsed from exhaustion, but Hermione didn't care about her food as she tore the wrapping paper off the parcel. She opened up the white wooden box she found underneath, removed an absurd amount of colorful tissue paper, and gasped.
Inside was an ornate crystal bottle of perfume that seemed to light up the entire Great Hall with the way it sparkled.
"Wow," said Ginny, raising her eyebrows. "I had assumed it would be a book."
"There's a point to it," said Hermione, grinning ear to ear, "our fifth year, he gave me a bottle of perfume for Christmas—"
"Yeah, yeah, he gave you a girly gift because the dumb prat hadn't noticed you were a girl before, no need to swoon," said Ginny, waving her hand. "Let's just hope he's gotten better at picking that stuff out."
"That perfume from fifth year smelled good!" said Hermione defensively.
"Only if you think smelling the most means smelling the best," said Ginny. "That stuff was way too strong, I could smell you through doorways, your brain just tricked you into thinking it was good because it reminded you of him."
Hermione turned her nose up at Ginny. "Just because something is unique doesn't mean that it's bad—"
"Well there's only one way to find out, isn't there?" Demelza cut her off impatiently. "Go on, give us a spritz!"
Hermione sprayed a puff of the gold liquid onto her wrist, and took a sniff. Her eyes fluttered shut, she was so overwhelmed by the pleasant smell. She swore it smelled vaguely of book parchment, and her mind was instantly transported to feeling cozy and safe in her favorite spot in the library.
"Holy gods," she whispered. She looked up at the other two girls, "That is amazing!"
"Really?" said Ginny, surprised. She grabbed Hermione's wrist and held it to her own nose. She had to admit, her brother had really outdone himself. As the scent of sweet chocolate filled her nostrils, she felt a pleasant warmth spread through her to her fingertips.
But she was jerked back to attention when a large barn owl landed next to her with another parcel.
"I knew it." said Demelza with a smug grin, and leaned over to get a closer look at it.
"Shut up! It's my turn," Ginny pushed Demelza back and began tearing off the wrapping paper, all pretense about not caring about Valentine's Day dropped.
Under the paper was a cardboard box, with a note scribbled on the lid in Harry's handwriting:
Thought your morning could use some colour.
Picturing a flower, or some bright jewelry, she lifted the lid on the box. But when she saw what was inside, she didn't gasp or smile like Hermione did. Instead, her eyes narrowed and she pressed her lips together.
"Oh, you cheeky wanker…" Ginny muttered.
"What is it?" asked Hermione.
Ginny reached into the box and pulled out what was inside: a jar of freshly pickled toads.
Hermione's mouth dropped open, then she covered her mouth with her hands to hide her snorts of laughter. Demelza didn't try to hide them at all.
"It's not funny," said Ginny flatly.
"Of course not," Hermione squeaked, her eyes watering, "That's a traumatic memory for you, it's not a joke, Harry should be ashamed hahahaha!" she couldn't hold it in anymore and doubled over the table, clutching her sides.
Hermione stopped abruptly, however, when she looked back at the box the jar had been in, and noticed smoke rising from it.
"Oh no!" she cried, "Ginny, watch out!"
Ginny noticed it too, and looked back into the box. Her eyes widened in fear.
"Oh no…" said Ginny. She reached into the box and pulled out a red envelope, which was smoking in the corners, "Seriously!?"
"Quick, open it!" said Demelza, "Before it—"
But at that moment, the Howler exploded. Pink confetti was blasted upwards and started raining down on Ginny, and she instantly recognized it as Weasley's Wizard Wheezes Self-Replicating Confetti (guaranteed to keep you covered for the whole day, no matter how much you brush off!). As every head in the Great Hall spun around to the source of the noise, Harry's voice boomed and echoed off the stone walls:
Her eyes are as brown as a flobberworm egg,
In Quidditch, her skills are the apex,
I'm so glad she's mine, she's simply divine,
The young queen of the Bat Bogey Hex.
Hermione didn't try to hide her laughter this time, and neither did anyone else in the castle, for that matter.
"D'AAAAAAWWWWWWWW" Demelza droned loudly directly into Ginny's ear. Ginny elbowed her hard in the ribs, which got her to back off.
"I'm going to kill him," Ginny said darkly.
"Oh please, no you're not," Hermione rolled her eyes and swatted Ginny's arm. "As soon as you see him, you're going to snog the life out of him."
"The two aren't mutually exclusive, I can do both."
Ginny looked around at all the faces that had turned to look at her, but now that the show was over a lot of them were already losing interest. The only ones still invested were a few girls shooting her venomous sideways glances. Ginny wasn't proud of it, but she still got a rush of satisfaction when she got to disappoint one of Harry's fangirls, whose number had only increased since he had saved the world. She had to admit that Hermione might be right, because she felt her embarrassment quickly slipping away and being replaced with pride that her boyfriend had so publicly declared she was his, and he was hers.
Plus, Ginny knew that the disastrous Valentine's Day of her first year had been just as embarrassing for Harry as it had been for her, so the fact that he had grown enough and gotten comfortable with himself enough to make a joke out of it warmed her heart.
She was jerked from her daydreaming about how she would "repay" Harry for this when she noticed something wrong with Hermione. She was reading a letter that had been included in the parcel with the perfume, and far from looking lovestruck, she instead looked completely crestfallen.
"What's wrong?" Ginny asked, "What did he do now?"
Hermione hesitated. "Did you get one of these?"
Ginny looked back into the box that had contained the toads and the Howler, and she did indeed find an ordinary letter. She ripped it open and began reading.
Gin,
I hope you're having the best seventh year possible. I hope you aren't working your new Quidditch recruits too hard, you know you can outsmart any other captain at that school.
I also hope you liked my beautiful poetry. Try to concentrate on your lessons instead of daydreaming about me.
More seriously, I also have some bad news. You know how much I miss you and can't wait to see you, but Ron and I won't be able to spend the day with you girls in Hogsmeade. A work thing has come up that we can't pass up. I promise I'll make it up to you.
Love,
Harry
The warm feeling Ginny had been feeling was gone, and her mood went sour again. She peeked her eyes over the letter and scowled at Hermione, who was looking at her with sympathy that just annoyed Ginny more.
"You know if he could spend the day with you, he would," said Hermione.
"Yes, I understand, Hermione, I'm used to it by now," said Ginny bitterly. "Harry has to go off and do something important, that he doesn't want to do, but the fact that it makes him miserable just feeds his martyr complex even more."
Ginny sighed, feeling suddenly exhausted. "It's just...is this just how it's going to be? All the time? Why aren't you pissed at this? You'd think my brother had ditched you enough times already."
Hermione smiled shyly. "Actually….would you believe that I'm more than a little proud of him?"
Ginny raised her eyebrows.
"Well," said Hermione defensively, "I know that he would much rather spend the day with me than...whatever they'll be doing, it's not like I think he's suddenly bored with me. I wouldn't have been surprised if he blew this off and met me in Hogsmeade anyway. Heck, I'm surprised he hasn't risked sneaking into the castle yet. Instead, he's being all responsible and honoring his commitments and it's kind of sexy—"
"Okay! That's enough!" Ginny nearly diving over the table to clamp her hand over Hermione's mouth.
"Sorry," said Hermione, blushing. "Besides, now I can spend the day shopping in Hogsmeade for a gift for Ron." She held up her new perfume. "There's no way I can let this go unanswered. I have to get him something just as good."
Ginny snorted. "Yeah, otherwise you'll get a bad grade in dating, that's a very normal way to look at it."
"Hey, at least we don't treat our relationship as an opportunity for pranks," laughed Hermione, pointing to the jar of toads. "Don't worry, I promise we'll still have a great Hogsmeade day, just us girls."
Ginny smiled weakly, feeling a bit better, not wanting to admit just how much she would do to see her boyfriend again.
"Would you hurry up?" Ron urged as Harry inspected his robes in the mirror again, "You've preened enough, you look fine."
"We have plenty of time," said Harry irritably. He turned around to face his best friend, standing impatiently in the doorway to Harry's bedroom in Grimmauld Place.
"You don't know that!" said Ron, "We have no idea how long Phase One will take!"
"I doubt it will take all bloody day!" said Harry. "What's got you so wound up, anyway?"
"Because I'm finally going to win!" said Ron excitedly.
Harry stared at him. "You're going to win. At….?"
"At Valentine's Day!" said Ron, like it was obvious. "Years before we were even officially together, Hermione's treated our relationship as another thing she can be better than everybody at. She was so satisfied with herself at Christmas. I got her nice things, but they were standard "girlfriend" gifts, I thought that would be fine. But she went and got me stuff that was ridiculously thought-out and personal."
"The nerve of her," said Harry.
"I know, it makes me furious! But with Valentine's Day, I'm going to beat her at her own game."
"Didn't you already do that with the perfume?" asked Harry. "Assuming she actually likes the scent, knowing you, you probably liked bacon-scented perfume or something."
"Ah, I know she loved it!" said Ron cleverly, as they started walking down the stairs, "It's this special stuff that's derived from Amortentia, so by definition it will be the best thing she's ever smelled."
"Wow. That couldn't have been cheap," said Harry.
"You can say that again," grumbled Ron, "It's only available in France, I had to get an advance for the gold and I now owe Fleur's mum a favor."
"Well I hope it's worth it," said Harry.
"Oh, it'll be worth it!" said Ron fiercely, as they arrived at the front door and put on their coats. "You know, she told me once I make an 'adorable, dopey' face when I get surprises. Well she's going to be the one making a stupid face this time."
He spun towards Harry and leaned towards him. "She WILL make that stupid face!"
"Okay, okay! She'll make the face!" said Harry defensively. "Let's just go so you can get this out of your system."
They stepped out the front door of Grimmauld Place, walked past the wards, and Disapparated to their destination.
"Where do you want to go first?" Hermione asked as they walked down the road into Hogsmeade in the February cold, their scarves pulled up over their faces.
"Either Honeydukes or Three Broomsticks," grumbled Ginny. "I want to either eat or drink away my mood, you pick."
"Don't you start!" said Hermione shortly, swatting Ginny's arm. "We don't need boys to enjoy ourselves. I swear, you're getting so good at sulking I think Harry is starting to rub off on you."
Ginny snorted in laughter.
"Oh, very mature!" said Hermione. "Let's head to the Three Broomsticks first, I'm already cold and in need of a butterbeer."
"Yes, ma'am," said Ginny cheekily.
By the time they neared the front of the pub, Ginny was starting to like the idea of a warming drink too.
"Since it was your idea, I'll let you buy the first round," said Ginny.
"Could I buy you a drink?" said a voice behind her.
Ginny and Hermione both froze, wide-eyed and spun around towards the voice that they recognized.
Sure enough, Harry was standing there, Ron beside him, both dressed out in their best Ministry robes and looking extremely satisfied with themselves.
Ginny didn't say a word. With a hard, stony look on her face, she dropped her bag and full-on charged at Harry.
His cocky smile faltered, and suddenly all of his plans seemed like a horrible idea. The joke with the toads, misleading her in the letter and then surprising her here, she hated all of it and now she was going to kill him.
Harry resigned himself to his fate, but then Ginny launched herself into his arms and kissed him so hard that he nearly fell over. He recovered quickly and kissed her back, spinning her around in his arms.
Hermione was much less dramatic as she walked up and embraced her boyfriend. "See, what did I tell you?" she asked Ginny pointedly.
"Shut up," said Ginny against Harry's mouth. Then, she broke away from him and punched him in the gut.
"That's for lying to me!" she said harshly.
"I didn't lie!" said Harry, grimacing as he doubled over.
"You said you had a work thing!" said Ginny. "You said you couldn't come!"
"No, I didn't," said Harry. His cocky grin was back. "My exact words were that we couldn't spend the day with you two in Hogsmeade."
"And we're not going to," said Ron, "You're going with us to this 'thing' of ours, somewhere way better than a pub and a sweet shop."
"...Oh, you cheeky git," Ginny glared at Harry, but failed to hide her smile.
"You two think you're just sooo clever, don't you?" Hermione rolled her eyes.
"Miss Granger, you haven't seen clever yet," said Ron confidently. "Now, you girls head up to Room 3 of the Broomsticks and get ready. We need to be looking sharp, no dusty travelling cloaks."
He wrapped an arm around Hermione's waist and pulled her close. "And I'm going to correct one of the biggest mistakes of my life," he said into her ear.
Hermione furrowed her brow. "What does that mean?"
"You'll see when you get up there," he said, winking at her. "We'll meet you downstairs when you're done."
The four of them went inside out of the cold, but instead of stopping at a table, Hermione and Ginny were led to the staircase at the back of the pub (Harry causing many turned heads and offers to buy him drinks on their way). Their boyfriends shooed them up the stairs and Hermione and Ginny opened the door to Room 3. They both gasped when they saw the inside. It looked like a high-end salon. There were two large desks with vanity mirrors attached against one wall, each adorned with an assortment of makeup products and haircare potions. Hung on the opposite wall were two elegant outfits. Ginny recognized the golden dress as the one she had worn to Bill's wedding; Harry must have had it repaired, since it had gotten ruined when the wedding was attacked.
Hermione chuckled. "Well now I know what he meant."
"What?" asked Ginny.
Hermione pointed to the other outfit hanging on the wall, a set of periwinkle-blue dress
robes. "Ron said he was making up for a mistake he made. That's the outfit I wore at the Yule Ball. Although, I can't help but notice that they're even smaller than the robes I wore when I was fifteen." These robes would definitely hug her figure a lot more.
"Well it's good to know he can finally admit what dumb git he was," Ginny laughed.
"I'm surprised Harry didn't do the same with you," Hermione teased. "He also should have had the sense to ask you."
"Oh Merlin, no," Ginny scoffed. "No, if you and Ron had gone to that ball, he would have been awestruck by your beauty, you would have had a magical moment under the mistletoe, and spared the rest of us several years of headache. If Harry and I had gone to that ball, I would have been a nervous wreck trying to impress him, he would have been polite but spent the whole night pining after Cho Chang, and we would have been miserable."
Ginny paused in thought for a moment. She bit her lip and smiled while thinking about the convoluted path she and Harry had taken towards each other. "No….as frustrating as it was, and as much as I regretted not getting with him sooner while he was missing, the truth is Harry and I found each other right when we were supposed to."
She smiled as she took the golden dress down off the wall. "No, my biggest regret was not being able to embarrass Harry at the wedding by making him dance with me. I think Harry was actually grateful for that, but apparently he still thought I looked really good that day."
They changed and got themselves made up, trying to hurry while also making sure they looked good, since they still didn't know exactly where they were going, then left the room and descended the staircase. Harry and Ron were waiting for them at the bottom, and when they looked up and saw their girlfriends, Ron made that adorable dopey face that she loved so much, before catching himself and swearing.
When they arrived back in the pub, Hermione noticed equally dopey faces from several of the younger male students she recognized, and she blushed uncomfortably, while Ginny was flaunting it. The redhead even winked at a nearby third year and he promptly coughed and spilled his butterbeer all over himself.
"Alright, now can you two please tell us where we're going?" Hermione pleaded.
"Don't ruin the surprise," said Ginny, looping her arm through Harry's. "Let's just go, I don't want to waste looking this good."
The four of them exited the Three Broomsticks, and Harry and Ron Disapparated their girlfriend to their destination.
After recovering from the sensation of Apparating and getting their bearings, the girls saw that they were in the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic.
"You're not even supposed to be able to Apparate into the Ministry!" exclaimed Hermione.
"They disabled the wards in the atrium to account for the high traffic today," explained Harry.
Looking around, Hermione saw that there were indeed a good deal more people than usual were walking across the atrium. Another difference from a normal day in the Ministry was that the crowd seemed to all be going in the same direction, down a very wide hallway adorned with golden streamers and rich tapestries that she swore weren't there the last time she was here. Finally, the strangest thing she noticed was what many of the people passing her were wearing: not just the standard British dress robes, but all kinds of elaborate, colorful outfits from dozens of cultures that she recognized (and several that she didn't).
"What's going on?" asked Ginny.
"Kingsley had an idea to hold this huge gala for magical diplomats from all over the world," Harry explained as they started following the crowd. "Turns out, a civil war followed by a supremacist coup doesn't exactly foster good-faith international relations."
"Especially since Voldemort's government started tearing up basically every international law with the exception of the Statute of Secrecy," Ron added. "So Kingsley wants to show the world that things are stable again and things are back to normal."
"Oh, better than normal!" Hermione cut in, "Before the war, Fudge's government was actually holding back much of Europe in international agreements on muggle protections, but now several laws are being proposed to help Britain catch up."
"Which, of course, you already know about," Ron chuckled affectionately. "You might want to pace yourself with those factoids, love, you might annoy some of these bigwigs by reminding them they're not the most clever witch in the room."
"Oh gods, I'm not actually going to have to talk to important people am I? Why didn't you tell me!?" Hermione panicked, swatting Ron in the chest. "I would have studied up!"
"Relax, Hermione, we're just here to be arm candy," said Ginny, snaking her arm around Harry's waist.
"That's not true!" said Harry defensively. "Don't sell yourself short, you're an arm three-course meal at least. And you're absolutely here to talk to people, you think I can handle that on my own?"
They finally reached the end of the hall and entered a ballroom the size of a cathedral, with an enchanted ceiling similar to the Great Hall at Hogwarts. For as spacious as it was, it still seemed crowded, with what had to be hundreds of people inside. Dignitaries everywhere were talking curtly to each other with their noses in the air, along with many Ministry officials they recognized. There was a large band playing on a stage against one wall, along with a sprawling accompanying dance floor, and house-elves scurrying about everywhere carrying trays of drinks (Hermione bitterly supposed that the Ministry's newfound progressivism only went so far).
"Come on, there's someone I want you to meet," said Ron, with a mischievous grin, and led Hermione into the crowd in the direction of the catering table.
Ginny made to follow them, but Harry gently held her back.
"Trust me, you won't be interested," said Harry. "There's actually someone here for you too, but first things first."
He stepped back, smiling broadly, and dramatically bowed low, with one hand behind his back and the other offered to her.
"Ginevra Molly Weasley, may you honor me with a dance?"
Ginny didn't burst out laughing, like Harry expected, or even look touched, which he had hoped for. Instead, her eyes narrowed and she looked at him warily, leaning away from him.
"What was the first thing Harry said to me when I invited him into my bedroom on his seventeenth birthday?" she asked sharply.
Harry stood back up as his mouth dropped open.
"You...you think I'm polyjuiced!?" he asked incredulously. "Seriously?"
"That is infinitely more believable than the idea that my boyfriend, Harry James Potter, actually wants to dance. In public. You hate dancing, you said that was why your Yule Ball was doomed from the start. You literally said, 'Harry Potter does not dance.'" She crossed her arms and pouted her lip flirtily. "So unless you're just full of it…."
"Well," said Harry, "I guess it all depends on finding the right partner." He offered her his hand again.
Ginny tried to remain stone faced for a moment, but then her facade cracked and she let out a happy, very girly squeal. She grabbed him by the hand and rushed past him, pulling him out onto the dance floor.
Ginny hesitated a moment. The dignitaries were all moving about in a formal, elegant way that seemed choreographed, not the casual dancing one would reasonably expect of teenagers. But before she could say anything, Harry took her hand in one of his, placing the other on her waist, and swept her out onto the dance floor, moving with the music flawlessly, steering her as he spun her around.
This wasn't the kind of dancing she had thought about with Harry. In all honesty, she probably would have rathered her back pressed up against his chest and his hands gripping her hips as they moved to some Weird Sisters music. Now that she knew that Harry was okay with dancing, she was definitely going to take him to a concert or one of those muggle nightclubs.
But she was just distantly aware of that, for now she was too enraptured with the moment. The way Harry was looking at her and dancing with her, her whole world fell away and, despite her best efforts, she allowed herself to regress back to her smitten 12-year-old self, finding herself in one of her old fantasies and feeling like a princess dancing with her hero.
And she didn't appreciate the smug look on his face at how transparently she was swooning, so she willed herself to stay focused.
"How are you not helpless right now?" she asked suspiciously.
Without missing a beat, Harry just shrugged casually. "Oh, I've been taking dancing lessons."
Ginny stopped on a dime. "Okay, seriously, who are you!?" she demanded, poking him in the chest.
Harry laughed. "I'm me, Gin, you just make me want to be the best possible version of me. I wanted to be able to do this with you."
"But how did you know that I loved to dance?" she pressed. "I never said anything because I knew you hated it! I've never even danced in front of anyone in years—"
"You dance all the time, Gin," said Harry, smiling down at her adoringly. "When you walk, when you duel, and especially when you fly. You're so comfortable in your own skin that every time you move your body it's breathtaking. It's how you express yourself."
For the first time in a while, Harry made Ginny turn the color of a tomato. She was struggling to remind herself that it would probably be rude to start snogging him in the middle of a formal event when she saw a flash of light out of the corner of her eye. She turned her head and went pale when she saw not just one, but several photographers and reporters taking pictures of the dancers (seeming to be zooming in on her and Harry) and scribbling furiously in notebooks.
"Harry!" she hissed at him, lowering her voice and clutching at his robes. "Don't panic, but the press is here."
Harry frowned. "Well of course they are. Kingsley invited pretty much every paper in Europe, that's part of the whole point."
Ginny rolled her eyes. "Come on, Harry, don't be naive. You know the Prophet isn't interested in the event, they're interested in you."
Harry smiled and slyly pulled her closer to him. "I'm counting on it."
And before she could hesitate, he kissed her passionately right there in the middle of everyone. Ginny could hear more flashes erupting from the reporters, but she didn't remotely have the willpower to push him away when he was kissing her like this.
"Why wouldn't I want the whole country to know that I'm dating such a gorgeous witch?" he asked when he pulled back. "It'll be nice to have my name in the papers for a good reason for once." He then frowned, like he was puzzled. "And besides, I have to set the record straight. You see, for some reason there's this persistent rumor going around that I have a muggle girlfriend in Canada."
"Really?" asked Ginny, feigning surprise, "Whatever gave them that idea? Just let me know if we need to do anything else to demonstrate how ridiculous that is."
"Don't tempt me," Harry laughed. The song they were dancing to ended and Harry led her by the hand back off the dance floor.
"Sorry, all of my lessons were just for that one dance. Baby steps, I guess," said Harry, making Ginny laugh.
Ginny started scanning the crowd for Ron and Hermione, but soon they were intercepted by the Minister of Magic himself.
"Ginny!" Kingsley's deep voice boomed, "So nice to see you again. And Harry, I'm so glad you decided to attend."
Ginny looked sideways at her boyfriend. "I'm sorry, 'decided to attend?' As in, this wasn't mandatory? Your letter said that you had a thing that 'you couldn't pass up.'"
Harry shrugged. "Well, yeah. A chance to see you in that dress again? There's no way I could let that pass by."
Ginny groaned and rolled her eyes, though she was still smiling. "Okay love, you can stop piling it on now, you're going to give me a sugar crash."
Kingsley laughed. "Oh, and Harry, that...special guest you were waiting for is over by the east entrance."
"Perfect!" said Harry excitedly, and led Ginny by the hand across the ballroom. They approached a large group of excited people who were crowding around someone that Ginny couldn't see, trying to get their attention. Unlike Ginny, Harry was tall enough to be seen over some of the crowd, and he was apparently spotted by the mystery popular person.
"Potter!" a voice called from behind the crowd, and a muscular arm shot up and waved Harry over. "Okay, get out of the way," they pushed their way through their wall of admirers, and Ginny suddenly forgot how to breathe.
Walking towards her, and actually looking at her and her boyfriend, was Gwenog Jones, captain of the Holyhead Harpies.
The face that had adorned the wall of Ginny's bedroom since she knew what Quidditch was sporting a crooked grin as she greeted Harry like they were old teammates.
"I owe you one, Potter," said Jones, slapping Harry on the back so hard that his glasses almost flew off his face, "The Minister gave me the word that the league will pick up by the end of the month."
"The Auror department has been working with Gwen to ensure security before matches resume," Harry explained, referring to Ginny's idol by a nickname in a way that made her want to slap him for his insolence. "There have been concerns that large gatherings would be targets for rogue Death Eaters or Dementors, but I put in a good word with Kingsley that we could handle things."
"Yeah, and in exchange I agreed to meet a certain rising Chaser that Potter has a sweet spot for," said Jones, smiling at Ginny now. She extended a large, calloused hand towards the much smaller woman, but Ginny remained frozen on the spot, her eyes bulging, seemingly having forgotten how to blink.
Jones chuckled. "Your boyfriend actually went above and beyond, showed me some Pensieve memories of you flying. He certainly spent enough time watching you when he should have been captaining your whole team. But I gotta say, you're damn impressive, and I don't say that lightly."
She stopped for a few moments to allow Ginny to say something, but the girl remained silent.
"Soooo," Jones continued, "I was planning on sitting in on that upcoming match of yours against Slytherin in a few weeks. The Harpies have lost some good ladies to motherhood recently, and we're pretty shallow at Chasers. If you're as impressive in person as in Potter's daydreams, then I definitely want first crack before Wood gets his talons in you."
Ginny remained frozen for another beat, then threw her head back and erupted into mad, delirious laughter.
"Ow!" Harry helped, as he felt Ginny's nails dig into his upper arm like a literal harpy.
Ginny turned toward Harry. "I am going to kill you," she growled through clenched teeth, her mouth still in that deranged, frightening smile.
"You're welcome?" said Harry, shrugging her off.
"I'm going to be a nervous wreck at that match now!"
"No you're not," said Harry plainly. "You're going to love it, you thrive under pressure."
"Don't worry about it," said Jones casually. "It's not like it's make-or-break, I still want you to try out next summer regardless. But your boyfriend's right, I have a feeling it will be a formality. No reason to be scared, I don't bite. Not anymore, anyway, since the suspension."
Jones downed her whiskey and put the glass on a passing elf's tray.
"Now, if you two lovebirds will excuse me, I see Ballycastle's captain over by the dance floor, and I feel like causing a scene."
She made her exit, leaving Ginny questioning whether that conversation actually happened.
"Can you...let go of me now?" asked Harry timidly, his eyes starting to water.
"No, I'm still making up my mind whether to kiss you or kill you."
"Don't be silly, you've never been a witch who's happy to choose just one thing or the other," said Harry, prying her fingers loose. "But I doubt you would enjoy snogging a dead body, so how about snogging me first, then you can kill me later?"
Ginny thought for a moment. "Yes, that seems reasonable."
Then she jumped into his arms and nearly caused an international incident.
"Come on, there's someone I want you to meet," said Ron, with a mischievous grin, and led Hermione into the crowd in the direction of….the catering table.
"Ronald, if you plan on just stuffing your face the whole time we're here…" scolded Hermione.
"Give me some credit, love," Ron said indignantly, "I ate before I picked you up, I knew they would have all this weird, fancy food here. I heard that they're actually including shit like snails and fish eggs, eck. No, I swear, you'll get a kick out of this."
As they approached the table, Hermione saw a thin wizard in pinstripe dress robes, with white, wispy hair and wide, thick glasses that magnified his eyes. Hermione's eyes grew almost as wide when she realized who she was walking toward.
"Oi! Archie!" Ron called.
The wizard turned towards Ron and frowned in annoyance. "Again, Mr. Weasley, if you don't mind, my name is—"
"Archimedes Quartermain!" Hermione squealed, rushing towards him and extending her hand, "Magical historian, long-time research assistant to Bathilda Bagshot and co-author of Hogwarts: A History!"
Quartermain was taken aback at the crazed-looking young witch approaching him, but then put on a pleasant smile and shook her hand.
"Well this is most unusual, but not at all unwelcome," said Quartermain, "Not many people know of my role in writing that volume, since it was just Bathilda's name on the cover. Realities of the industry, I'm afraid."
"Oh, I know everything about Hogwarts: A History!" laughed Hermione, "I practically know it by heart and researched the entire publication history. It's the most fascinating book I've ever read, it's my number one comfort textbook—"
"Which is totally a thing normal people have," Ron muttered.
"It's such an honor to meet you, Mr. Quartermain," said Hermione, completely oblivious to Ron's presence.
Hermione launched into a million questions, which Quartermain was more than happy to answer. Ron tried not to laugh as the historian's chest puffed out with pride, no doubt the first time he had gotten this much attention from a beautiful young witch about his knowledge on 17th century castle renovations.
"Wait a second!" Hermione said as she finally noticed something. "Ron, how did you two know each other's names?"
"Oh, Mr. Weasley is the reason I'm here!" said Quartermain happily. "He recommended my attendance, for posterity. I'm planning a volume on the international ramifications of the Second Wizarding War, once my upcoming revision is published."
"Revision?" asked Hermione.
"Yes, later this year I will be publishing a second edition of Hogwarts: A History," he said proudly. "It's been revised and expanded extensively, sourcing documents I've since uncovered since Bathilda and I published the first edition all those decades ago. And of course I'm also devoting chapters to the school's most recent history and newly discovered components, such as the Room of Requirement and Chamber of Secrets, with information that Mr. Weasley provided."
Hermione's mouth was gaping open. "New primary sources!?" she gasped like it was the greatest news in the world. "Oh, I can't wait to read it! I would give anything to have it now."
Ron saw the opening he had been waiting for and jumped at it.
"Funny you should say that," he said smugly, and he pulled out what he had been keeping in his pocket, used his wand to re-enlarge it to its original size, and hand it over to Hermione: it was a pristine copy of Hogwarts: A New History.
Hermione's eyes bugged out of her skull as she snatched the book possessively out of his hand.
Ron jumped into the air and pumped his fist in victory. "Yes! Yes! There's the stupid face!" Hermione was too excited to feel embarrassed.
"Well, I am certainly flattered," said Quartermain. "However, if you'll excuse me, I really must at least try to get a statement from the Minister before the ceremonies begin."
Quartermain left them alone, and Hermione re-shrunk her new book and placed it in her purse.
"Thank you, I love it," she told him sincerely. She gave him a kiss that was far too chaste for his liking, but it was still more than she usually would have been comfortable with in such a setting.
They milled about a bit more, shaking hands, even dancing. Ron was trying not to laugh as he kept looking sideways at her, and saw her biting her lip and looking distracted. He spent a while wondering how long she could keep being polite, before he finally showed her mercy.
"You want to get out of here and go read that book, don't you?" he whispered into her ear.
"What? No! I'm having a great time, the book can wait," she said unconvincingly.
He just smiled and raised his eyebrows at her.
"...Oh okay, yes!" she admitted. "You're showing me the time of my life, and all I can think about is whether Mr. Quartermain found the Lost Diary of Hufflepuff. I'm such a swot."
"Yes, you are," he said, kissing the crown of her head. "That's part of why I love you. Come on."
Ignoring her half-hearted protests and "no, it's fine"'s, he led her out of the ballroom, down the hall of the Ministry, and back to the fireplaces. Soon, they were back at the Three Broomsticks and he was leading her back up the stairs.
"Where are we going now?" she asked.
"Room four," said Ron. "Final stage of the evening, I knew you wouldn't last at that party after you got your hands on that book."
Hermione blushed and looked at her feet. "Am I really that predictable?"
"No," he said affectionately, "I'm just the world's foremost expert on Hermione Granger. I'm actually a good student when the subject is interesting."
It wasn't the first time he had made that joke, but she still laughed and felt a warmth in her chest all the same.
Ron opened the door to Room Four, and Hermione started to feel downright spoiled.
The room was lit by a gentle, yellow light, just bright enough to read by, and a harp sat in the corner, magically playing a soft melody. There was a sofa at one end of the room with several throw pillows, and an armchair with a footrest next to it. Ron knew that she could never sit in one position for very long while she read without getting restless.
"You are really outdoing yourself right now, Ron Weasley," Hermione teased as she crossed the room and sat on the couch.
"I'm really glad you've had fun today," Ron told her honestly. "I'll get out of your hair and leave you to your swotting."
"What? No!" said Hermione, alarmed. "Ron, above everything else, I want to spend today with you. We barely get any weekends together. You don't have to go—"
"Love, it's fine, really," Ron chuckled, putting a hand on her shoulder. "My ego's been inflated enough already from so thoroughly winning this Valentine's Day. Besides, you'll forget all about me once you get to the chapter about the school's role in the War of the Roses. Quartermaine seems to think that Henry VI was a squib."
"I knew there were signs!" Hermione squealed excitedly, opening her book with force. Then, she paused and looked back at him.
"Wait, how do you know what's in it? Did Mr. Quartermaine give you details?"
"What?" asked Ron. He shrugged. "No, I just read it. Anyway, I think that will be your favorite part—"
"Wait, Wait!" Hermione put her hand up, looking dumbfounded. "You read it? You read it? You read it? The whole thing?"
"Er….yeah?" Ron said, confused. Was she upset he got to read it before she did? It wasn't like a book changed when you weren't the first one to read it. "And I think it will be one of your favorite chapters. I also think you'll like the chapter on the connection between the school and Stonehenge—"
"I'm sorry, but just to be clear," Hermione interrupted him, "You, Ronald Weasley, read a history book, from cover to cover, voluntarily, that you weren't required to by school or work?"
She looked down at her book, then back up to his face, like she was trying to solve a puzzle. "Why?"
"Well bloody hell, I don't know!" he practically shouted, throwing his hands in the air. He was growing more and more frustrated, this wasn't how he pictured the last stage of their date going. Why couldn't she just be impressed by what a great boyfriend he was instead of interrogating him about reading a damn book?
Ron scratched his head, thinking of his answer. "I guess I knew you'd love it, so I read it so we could talk about it. I figured you'll be bending my ear with every new page anyway, I might as well be able to understand what the hell you're saying—"
A loud bang behind him made Ron spin around. The door to the room had slammed shut of its own accord. He turned back around towards his girlfriend and was struck dumb by what he saw. She was pointing her wand at the door, having wordlessly closed it, and was looking at him with a smouldering fire in her eyes.
She spoke in a low, commanding tone that brokered no debate.
"Take off. Your clothes."
Ron gulped loudly as he quickly moved to comply. He was suddenly quite sure that he wouldn't be winning Valentine's Day after all.
Well this story has mutated from a quick series of short vignettes leading up to Valentine's Day of this year, with the chapters getting longer and longer until this last one is well long enough to be a story on its own, and I'm finishing it now, in freakin' June. Feels good to see it completed.