Heh. This is a particularly long one.
He was terrified. He didn't know what to do. He could hear Ron loudly snoring beside him, and could only imagine the ticking of a clock fast approaching midnight.
What if he screwed up? Would they all laugh at him? Everyone expected so much, but…
No matter what they called him, no matter what they expected of him, he was only Harry, no more, no less.
A dance. He had to take a girl to a dance. Ron's sister, even!
Not like he had much choice on the matter. Her friend…
He was sitting alone in the common, working his way through a rather difficult Transfiguration problem. He was nearly done: his rabbit was nearly a hat, yet still hopped about occasionally.
He muttered the incantation, only to be cut off by a rather frustrated scream.
In stormed Ginny's blonde roommate, face frozen into a stare of murder. Ironically enough, it reminded Harry of Uncle Vernon, after coming home from a particularly bad day at work.
Before he could properly flee, the approaching girl's face softened, no longer radiating malice, although her mouth never moved. Did she want something?
Yet he could hardly believe what she would say.
"Look, you know Ginny, Weasley's sister?" she spoke, voice laced with annoyance.
Harry nodded back.
"Well, Ginny is a good friend of mine, and while she's apparently not brave enough to ask you to the ball herself, I'm going to lay it down for you: ask Ginny to the ball. Seriously, she has the world's worst crush on you, and will probably try and take it out on me if you ask out another girl."
As he sputtered, the girl turned on her heel and began walking back upstairs, she spouted one last shout of 'insight'.
"If you're afraid of her saying no, don't be. I think it'll be harder to get her to stop squealing after you ask."
With that, the girl ascended the stairs. About a minute later, there was an echoing slam of wood on stone.
It had taken a serious mustering of courage, but Harry had finally gone through with the advice, and had asked Ginny to the ball. As stated, she had immediately shouted a resounding yes, even going as far as to hug him, although she quickly flinched back after doing so, face crimson.
And now, eighteen hours from the ball, he sat, sleepless in his bed, wondering what would happen.
What if he ruined her night? Would she ever try to talk to him again? Would Ron?
What if he wasn't good enough? He was afraid, not some brave hero like everyone expected. He felt worthless, terrified, like a small child out of his depth.
What if she found out about the Dursleys? No one knew, not even Hermione or Ron.
Would anyone want to be near him, if they realized he was nothing more than garbage to his 'family'? Would they even trust him?
He slowly ran his fingers over each other, trying to calm himself.
He took a deep breath. It's only a dance, right? Nothing like taking down a Basilisk, or facing a hundred Dementors. He'd done those things, and survived.
Yet why did it feel so much worse?
It was eighteen hours from the ball, and Ginny lay awake, staring at the ceiling. Aura had long since fallen asleep: only the pale glow of her slumbering pet Salamander illuminated the otherwise pitch-black room.
She had a date with the Boy-Who-Lived! Or… Harry.
Aura had demanded that she refer to him as Harry during the date. But it felt so… strange to refer to him like that.
He was the Boy-Who-Lived, a hero, someone they wrote stories about! Someone they were still writing stories about!
And she was just Ginny Weasley, another nobody in a family full of nobodies.
What if she wasn't perfect? She had one chance at this, one chance to introduce herself, to show who she was. To leave a good impression.
She wasn't the prettiest girl: the Twins and Ron had pointed that out years ago. What did she have, to make herself interesting to her hero, to the boy she had crushed on for years?
She let out a shuddering breath.
What did she have over the girls in the years above her? She was a hothead, a spitfire… hardly a girly girl.
That's what the boys wanted, right? A girly girl that loves flowers and dresses, not some girl who lived on a farm who loved sports, and spell-casting, and fighting.
She was terrified. What if she wasn't good enough? Would he ever talk to her again? Would he even take her seriously? Or would she be seen as Ron's annoying little sister?
She hadn't even had a gown of her own: she was merely borrowing one of Aura's!
But would that even be enough?
She wasn't rich. She couldn't buy the things that the other girls could: she used hand-me-downs, refitted clothing. Patches upon patches, holding together old clothing.
Merely a princess of rags, if even that.
Another shuddering breath.
What would she say? How would she even try and start a conversation?
She shook her head as she closed her eyes.
Getting no sleep would not help matters, that's for sure.
She had survived a 'soul drain', as Aura had so dramatically put it, but why, oh why, did this feel worse?
"Mate, I'm sure you'll be fine. My sister's head over heels for you." spoke Ron, as Harry quickly donned his dress robes.
"That's not the problem!" exclaimed Harry. "The problem is I have no idea what I'm doing! What do I do?"
"Harry: if you're want to impress her, just talk about you. That's all she ever talks about, anyway." continued Ron.
"Since when did you become the romantic adviser anyway? Did you manage to get a date yourself?"
Ron's face turned to an annoyed frown. "Not really. After that whole muck-up with Ginny's friend, the girls are too busy laughing at me to answer me."
"Mate, that was pretty bad." smirked Harry. "She nearly drowned herself in her soup when you asked her. I'm amazed she stayed under as long as she did, that must be some pretty crazy lung-strength right there."
"Look, Harry," sputtered an exasperated, (and very red), Ron. "We can't all be super-duper people readers like you. Some of us have issues with that sort of thing. I'm more annoyed that Malfoy somehow found out, and is using that as an excuse to call me a poofter."
"Malfoy's Malfoy, we know that. He hasn't said anything worth listening to the entire four years we've known him, and I don't think that's going to change any time soon. Still, you can just ignore the ponce."
Harry fastened his final clasp.
'But why can't I ignore this?' he murmured.
"Would you shut up, already?" screamed Aura, as she fastened yet another button. "I get it, you're terrified. He's probably terrified too, and freaking out isn't going to do anything besides panic both of you."
"But what do I talk about? I hardly know him!" moaned Ginny.
"Then fix that! Learn about him or something. I don't know, ask him about his day or something."
"But what if he thinks I'm shallow?"
"Then prove him goddamn wrong, I don't know." spoke Aura, hands spread apart in annoyance.
"What if he thinks I'm a loser?"
"Then it's his goddamn loss. Seriously, shut up so I can finish strapping you into this dress."
"How the hell do you even wear this thing? Seriously, it's way more flexible than I thought it'd be, but it's heavy. And why are we using the black one? I like the red one better!"
"Because if you blush while wearing the red one, you look like a bloody tomato. And that's not a good image to have. Now shut up, so we can get you ready."
"But I'm scared" whined Ginny.
"Ginny, goddammit. You're scared. He's scared. Every. Damn. Person. Is. Scared. Are you a Gryffindor or not? I swear, if you spend the entire dance silent and awkward, I will mock you for this forever. I mean it, forever." all-but-shouted the blonde. "Now act like a bloody Gryffindor and summon some goddamn courage!"
"I'm a Gryffindor." muttered Ginny, as she wrung her hands. "I can do this."
There was one final shuffle of a button being threaded.
"There. Final strap is done. Go get him, tiger."
"I'm a Gryffindor. I can do this." she murmured, even as she stepped into the hallway.
He walked down the stairs in a daze.
What should he do? What should he say?
What if he messed up? Should he run? Should he apologise and hope she ignores it?
Who could ever want someone like the real him?
He was so wrapped up in his own thoughts, that only the jolt of colliding with someone cleared his mind.
"Ooof!"
She walked down the stairs, mind ablaze with panic.
Should she have borrowed make-up? Would he notice?
What if she wasn't enough? Would he dump her for another, better girl? A girl who didn't live on a farm, raising chickens and whose family could barely make ends meet?
Who could ever want someone like the real her?
She walked forward, body on autopilot, until a sudden collision jarred her back to her senses.
"Ooof!"
Of all the people to bump into!
Harry could feel his ears burning as he raised himself back up to his feet.
And of course, the person he bowled over, was Ginny, his date.
'Stupid, stupid, stupid!' he mentally beat himself, but amusingly enough, this ended up accidentally summoning mental images of Dobby, well, being Dobby to the surface of his mind.
It took a rather substantial effort to shake that image free.
"Are you alright?" he asked, as he lowered a hand to Ginny.
Now that she was on her feet, he finally had his first good look at his date.
Wow.
She was wearing a sleek, black, flowing dress, with a noticeable lack of exposed skin, save for an area of bare flesh centered around the small of the back. Covering the robes were dozens of flowing lines of runes in golden thread, which drew the eyes as they seemingly flickered like a reflection in a flowing river. The inlays laced up and around the shoulders, down the sides, and around the legs. The dress ended in a skirt, but each leg was individually wrapped: a closer inspection revealed the dress having a removable fastener at the waist, allowing full mobility of each leg.
Not only that: he could tell at a glance that the robes were more for utility rather than, or even in addition to, mere extravagance. They seemed much thicker, hardier, than the sort of gowns that the other girls had worn. A part of him, the part raised by the Dursleys, commended it. It obviously wasn't just some fancy, worthless dress: it looked like it'd survive some serious wear and tear.
Cementing the image was a brilliant smile adorning her face, and a radiant blush nearly as bright as her hair.
"Thank you." she whispered.
She had nearly screamed when she had collided with the person, but was greatly relieved to have not.
Because almost as soon as she regained her senses, she was looking up, into Harry's viridian eyes, with a smile, almost as if he had been told a joke, stretched across his face. A genuine smile, not a forced one.
"Are you alright?" he asked, as he reached down, hand held out. Held out for her.
She involuntarily broke into a smile as she grasped his hand, and raised herself back up to her feet.
His usual school robes had been entirely replaced by a set of robes matching his eyes: at any other time, she'd have complained about the use of Slytherin colors. Today, she was merely stunned. It wasn't just the matching of his eyes, however. He had chosen a plain, white shirt, contrasting the ocean-green robes quite nicely, even opted to add a plain white bow-tie to complete the image.
Still, the whole package only served to draw her gaze upwards, where she met his eyes with resolution.
"Thank you." she whispered, praying silently that she hadn't gone entirely red.
He stared at her for a moment, but quickly felt the fear returning. He should say something, right?
"So uh, how… how are you doing?" he sputtered.
She stood silent for a moment. Did she see through him? Would it really be over that fast?
"I'm fine," she replied, drawing a silent sigh of relief from Harry. "It took me awhile to get into this dress."
"It's a nice dress." he replied automatically.
His date cringed slightly, forcing him to backpedal. Was the dress a sore subject?
"So… uhh… this uh, Triwizard stuff, heh?"
Ginny noticeably loosened up as the topic changed. Her face twisted into a frown as she replied.
"It's stupid. There's no way they should have made you have to compete. What the hell were they thinking? Sometimes I think the people in charge of this place are all idiots." she grumbled, but quickly widened her eyes and threw her hands over her mouth.
"No, no, it's all right." he responded, glad to finally have an ear to talk to. "You're right. It is bloody stupid. I've either got the best luck in the world, or the worst luck. I honestly can't tell."
"My friend Aura says if something weird happens in this school, one way or another, it's going to find its way to you."
"The blonde? The one I always see you with?" he replied, shuddering slightly. "She's definitely a character."
Around them, the other couples had begun to pair off and head towards the Great Hall.
"We… uhh… should probably get moving, right?" he spoke, as he sheepishly extended his hand for her to hold. "We're supposed to hold hands, right?"
"Right." replied Ginny, who paused for a moment, before grasping his hand tightly.
She stood there silently. She knew she was supposed to say something, but what would she say?
At worst, she'd look like an idiot.
"So, how are you doing?" asked Harry.
Oh thank goodness. She wouldn't need to be the one to break the silence.
"I'm fine."
'I'm fine'? Seriously? Mentally, she facepalmed. Why was making conversation so damn hard?
"It… uhm... took me awhile to get into this dress." she continued.
"It's a nice dress." he replied.
It was, but it wasn't hers. Part of herself wished that she had chosen her own dress, but... well…
"So, how's about this Triwizard stuff?" spoke Harry.
Mentally, she rejoiced. Hopefully, they wouldn't return to that particular topic.
"It's stupid. There's no way they should have made you have to compete." she tried to stop herself, but the words kept spilling out. "What the hell were they thinking? Sometimes I think the people in charge of this place are all idiots."
Oh Merlin. She just swore in front of her date! Ladies were supposed to be prim and proper!
Her pulse raced as she clamped her hands over her mouth. Hopefully he'd just forget what she said.
But Harry didn't insult her for it. Instead, he smiled, broadly, and replied. "No, no, you're right. It is bloody stupid. I've either got the best luck in the world, or the worst luck. I honestly can't tell."
Ginny couldn't help but roll her eyes.
"My friend Aura says if something weird happens in this school, one way or another, it's going to find its way to you."
Why did she keep saying stupid? Riiight, talk about another girl during her date.
"The blonde? The one I always see you with?" he replied, with a rather flat tone. "She's definitely a character."
The jealous part of her receded slightly with those words.
"We should probably get moving, right?" he spoke, as he confidently extended his hand for her to hold.
Ginny blinked at the hand for a moment.
"We're supposed to hold hands, right?"
"Right." slowly replied Ginny, as she nervously reached forward, and grasped the hand tight.
Even as the music began playing, and the other couples had begun to dance, Harry still lacked words. Even worse, he knew he couldn't dance: his scant attempts to entertain himself when the Dursleys were out of the house had proven that without a doubt. He was hardly a dancer, and tended to trip over his own feet more often than not.
Here he was, at a brilliant party, and he was only standing around like a bloody idiot, waiting, and hoping for her to say something, anything. All the while watching the other, happier, couples dance.
He felt like an awkward idiot. A part of him, which was slowly growing in size, berated him for even choosing to put himself in this position.
He slammed down on that that particular thought. He was at a Ball, and he would enjoy it.
If not only for himself, then for Ginny. After all, she was doing fine, right?
He picked a topic at random.
"So… Quidditch?" he sputtered, hoping he had chosen correctly.
Only to mentally backpedal. Idiot! The girls in his year were focused on perfumes and dressing up, not in sports like him. Hermione, the only exception he had seen, was not one for sports either.
"Don't have to tell me about it…" grumbled Ginny.
"If you want to talk about something else, I'm up for it!" he spoke, letting loose a small nervous chuckle.
"No, I'm fine with it." she nodded.
"I… uhh… So what's your favorite team?" he asked.
"Holyhead Harpies." she answered, without even a moment's hesitation.
"Isn't that the all-girl's team?"
"Yeah. I'm hoping to get onto it, after I graduate." she murmured.
"You play Quidditch?"
Ginny's eyebrows furrowed in anger. "I was going to try out for a reserve spot on the team this year, but the stupid tournament cancelled it!"
His slowly began to crack a smile. "Don't I know it. I was hoping to kick Slytherin's butt a couple more times, maybe bring home the cup this year. So what position were you aiming for?"
Ginny returned his smile. "Chaser. I think you've got the Seeker position tied up for the next three years, yeah? Besides, I'm better at aiming than I am at finding things."
"So what've you been doing, if you haven't been able to play Quidditch games?" he inquired.
"Who said anything about that? Me and a couple dozen others have been playing pick-up games in our free time."
His eyes widened in glee. "No bloody way. Where are these games, and where can I sign up?"
Ginny silently groaned, as she sat on the bench beside Harry, watching the other dancers dance.
Her she was, doing the exact thing she said she wouldn't do: sitting in a corner like a bloody wallflower! But yet, she didn't know what so say. She had done her best to make conversation, but when the discussion steered towards the bloody weather, she had lost all but the last of her nerve.
Maybe he really does deserve someone better, she thought.
Why couldn't she be calm and confident like him?
He at least wasn't practically tearing his hair out. In fact, it was only sheer force of will that prevented her from chewing her lip raw.
"So… Quidditch?" he asked, drawing her from her reverie.
"Don't have to tell me about it…" grumbled Ginny. The annoyance of being unable to try out for the team was still going strong.
"If you want to talk about something else, I'm up for it!" he spoke, giving her an out.
Here she was. She could take the out, and just sit there, silent, for the rest of the night. Or she could take a risk, and either fly, or crash and burn.
"No, I'm fine with it." she answered.
"So what's your favorite team?" he asked.
"Holyhead Harpies." It was true: she had always loved the Harpies.
"Isn't that the all-girl's team?"
"Yeah. I'm hoping to get onto it, after I graduate." she murmured. Would he judge her for that?
"You play Quidditch?"
Once again, her mouth got the better of her. "I was going to try out for a reserve spot on the team this year, but the stupid tournament cancelled it!", she growled.
His lips parted into a smile. "Don't I know it. I was hoping to kick Slytherin's butt a couple more times, maybe bring home the cup this year. So what position were you aiming for?"
She could feel herself begin to relax. "Chaser. I think you've got the Seeker position tied up for the next three years, yeah? Besides, I'm better at aiming than I am at finding things."
"So what've you been doing, if you haven't been able to play Quidditch games?" he inquired.
"Who said anything about that? Me and a couple dozen others have been playing pick-up games in our free time." she retorted, finally beginning to enjoy the part.
His eyes widened. "No bloody way. Where are these games, and where can I sign up?"
"Augh!" grunted Ginny, as she sent herself tumbling, having just tripped over Harry's accidentally over-extended left leg.
"Crap, sorry. I've got two left feet, and that's on a good day. I must've been a bird my last life; I'm told I'm a bloody miracle on a broom, but bloody worthless on the ground. You all right?" murmured Harry.
"It's all right. I'm not made of bloody glass. Besides, either you'd trip, or I was going to." she chirped.
Sure, they were making a mess of things, but it was definitely fun. After all, neither she nor Harry had taken any real offense. Neither of them knew how to dance, but by Merlin, they were going to try. The other couples were giving them both a wide berth, but honestly, who cared?
"Not much of a dancer either?" he asked flippantly, brushing himself off. He still had a rather large patch of dirt on his left sleeve, but neither of the pair really minded.
"Nope. Never was. Probably never will be." she stated, as she held out her hands again. "Go again?"
"Only if you don't swing me into Neville again." he answered.
"I guess I'll just have to try to aim at Malfoy instead." she chuckled.
"By all means, do so." he smiled back at her.
They parted ways smiling, happy that the dance had gone well.
Although neither of the two had escaped unscathed, (they both bore several rapidly-forming bruises from where they had fallen on top of one another, collided with the furniture, or tripped over their own feet and had ended up on their rears), both of them were laughing merrily by the very end.
'I'm not alone.' they both thought. 'I'm not the only one terrified. I'm weird, I'm not perfect, but they just don't care.'
As the final song ended, they parted ways with a short, rather poorly-executed kiss, and slowly began their walk back to their dorms.
They took the scenic route, arriving back at around eight.
Harry jolted awake when something heavy collided with his bed.
"Get up." stated a female voice that practically dripped with anger.
'Wait, what the hell? What time is it?' he mentally groaned, as his eyes slowly fluttered open. It couldn't possibly be much past two in the morning.
In front of him, illuminated by a glowing ball of fire dancing in her left hand, was Ginny's roommate, face contorted in rage and terror.
Wait, didn't the dorms have wards against the opposite gender? He'd need to check, later. Right now, there were more pressing concerns.
"You're taking me down to this goddamn Chamber of Secrets, and you're taking me there now." Aura growled.
His mind froze for a moment.
"Why?" he asked, fear and dread rising with every moment. If she was looking for the chamber, then...
"Ginny's gone." the blonde stated. "Ginny's gone, and I can't track her down."
V2