This is the full ball segment now. I have put both halves together and reposted it. Hope you enjoy it! This is JKR's material, as ever!
PLEASE review for me if you're reading. I'm sinking in a quagmire of work at the moment and your comments send me out for the day with a much needed smile on my face
Past, Present and Future
"I have spread my dreams under your feet:
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams."
W.B.Yeats
Harry peered intently into the mirror on his bedside table and his reflection gazed thoughtfully back. At fifteen, he was becoming taller now, but with the same untidily tousled mop of jet-black hair that he had inherited from his father. Knowing it was useless, he tried to flatten it down, but it was wayward in nature, and sprang back defiantly to where it was before. Harry glowered at it. His hand smoothed the crown of his head again. He couldn't take Ginny to the ball looking as if he'd been dragged through a hedge backwards, could he? Just thinking about her caused an idiotic grin to spread across both face and reflection, his emerald eyes sparkling with pleasure. He still couldn't believe that he was actually taking her with him; still couldn't believe that she actually wanted to go with him; and definitely couldn't believe what she'd been doing to him for the past week. He laughed out loud. Only Ginny would have done that, and he loved her for it.
He fleetingly wondered if she would ever be ready in time. She'd been absorbed in her book of Muggle poems, sprawled comfortably in a common room chair with her sock-clad feet resting on a low table, when Ron had thrown a screwed up piece of parchment at her. Harry grinned happily at his reflection as he remembered the conversation.
"Are you wearing Bill's socks?" Ron stared accusingly at the distinctive tartan fabric covering her feet.
"Yes," she giggled, looking up from her book, and lobbing the parchment back at him. "Nice aren't they?" She wiggled her toes cheekily at her brother and was just about to return to her reading when Ron interrupted.
"Ginny, you do know Hermione went up two hours ago to get ready for the ball? We're due down there in less than an hour."
To Harry's absolute delight, Ginny had squeaked in horror, gabbled a red-faced apology to him, and before he had a chance to respond, Bill's socks had disappeared at warp speed up the girls' staircase.
He chuckled aloud again, and appraised himself in the mirror one final time. His hair was slightly tidier now, and he could just make out his scar on his forehead beneath it. He touched it briefly and puzzled over it for a moment. Voldemort had done so many evil and terrible deeds, and yet somehow that curse scar had now connected him with Ginny. How could something that had started out intending to kill him, have ended up with a bond that was so good? His reflection frowned back at him, green eyes clouding over, but he had no time to muse further as the door swung open.
"Are you ready?" Ron asked, twitching the cuffs of his new dress robes. "Look at this," he added, gesturing at his outfit and grinning at Harry. "Not a hint of lace or maroon in sight."
The pair of them strolled down to the busy common room. People were conversing exuberantly in little cliques, and some were even beginning to leave through the portrait hole heading for the Great Hall. Excitement filled the air, and the entire place was filled with happy chatter and laughter. Harry felt a surge of nervousness run through his veins, and panic clenched his stomach tightly, growing worse with every minute that passed.
"She'll be ages yet," Ron said sagely, as he looked at Harry's expression. "I don't know why you're getting so wound up anyway. It's only Ginny."
The room gradually began to empty as eight o' clock drew near, and even Ron became impatient, as neither Ginny nor Hermione had yet appeared. A set of footsteps were heard pattering quickly down towards them, and floating robes of periwinkle-blue drifted into sight. Ron leapt to his feet, clearly about to yell at her for being so late, but he got as far as opening his mouth and stopped abruptly. She smiled softly at him, and instead he merely reached out his hand for hers.
"Nice robes," she said to Ron. Then she added mischievously, "I really miss that bit of lace though."
"I'm sure you do," he laughed, pulling her closer and kissing her forehead. "You look wonderful." She beamed up at him, eyes shining with happiness.
"Harry," Hermione said suddenly, switching her attention across to him. "I dropped in to see Ginny on the way down, and she said she's nearly ready. I'm not sure if she's in the best of moods though," she chuckled. "Her dormitory looks like a tornado's just crashed through it, and she's threatening to curse her hair for not doing as it's told."
"That's Ginny for you," Ron exclaimed cheerfully. "I told you that you were insane, Harry, but would you listen?"
"If you two want to head downstairs, that's fine," Harry said, glancing nervously at his watch and changing the subject. "I'm not sure if there's any point all of us being late."
"Will you be OK?" Hermione asked him anxiously. "The prefects should be down there already and Professor McGonagall won't be impressed if I'm much longer."
"I'll be fine," he reassured her. "We'll catch you up."
The common room was eerily silent after the others had left, and Harry nervously began to pace around, wondering if Ginny had changed her mind. He glanced at his watch for the fifth time in as many minutes, and resumed his restless wandering. He paused and watched the flames flickering in the fire, panic beginning to cast its shadows deep inside his heart.
"Harry," her voice was gentle behind him, and he swung round to face her. "I am so sorry you've had to wait so long."
Harry caught his breath. Ginny Weasley had always been a striking figure, no doubt due to the vibrancy of both hair and personality, but this was something else entirely. Gone was the little red-headed whirlwind wearing Bill's old socks, and in her place was an entirely different Ginny. An exquisitely beautiful young woman stood there; poised, elegant and smiling at him.
Harry gazed at her in wonder. Her hair had been tamed and tied up into a swirl at the back of her head, making her seem much older. It shone like burnished copper; tiny stars glistening in its fiery depths, pinning it securely in place. Robes of a deep forget-me-not hue were fitted elegantly down to her waist, falling full-skirted to the floor. The fabric shimmered softly in the firelight, as she paused, nervously watching him.
"You're worth waiting for," he murmured at last, gazing into her deep brown eyes. "I've never seen you look so beautiful." She flushed and glanced away, as he inwardly cringed at the cliché. "Ginny," he said seriously, gently cupping her face in his hand so she was looking at him again. "I mean it."
"Thank you," she said, blushing even more. Then she smiled apologetically at him, her brow furrowed. "Harry, I hate to ask, but do you think you could help me with this please?" She opened her hand, and Harry saw the fine silver chain he and Ron had given her for her birthday snaking across it, the star-like pendant twinkling against her palm. "I've tried and tried, but the clasp is just so tiny it's really fiddly to do," she admitted. "By the time I got round to even attempting to put it on, everyone else had gone and I didn't want to make us any later. Would you mind?"
"I'll try," Harry said hesitantly, picking up the necklace and examining the fastening carefully. Ginny turned her back to him, and he slid it gently round her neck, trembling slightly at this curiously intimate experience. He fumbled with the clasp, feeling the softness and warmth of her bare skin against his, and the tiny quivers she gave as his hands brushed against her neck, made his mouth feel suddenly very dry. The chain linked together, and Ginny's hand fluttered up to touch it at her throat. It nestled, twinkling gently in the hollow between her collarbones, the perfect finishing touch. She smiled shyly up at him.
"Shall we go then Mr Potter?" she laughed, seeking refuge in formality.
"Certainly, Miss Weasley," he grinned back, offering her his arm. She slid her hand through it, and together they headed off through the portrait hole.
***
The enchanted ceiling was overcast; a deep velvety midnight blue with ominously dark billowing clouds hanging heavy above them, eclipsing moon and stars almost entirely. The occupants of the room took no notice of the mood outside, as candlelight flickered softly though the darkness of the winter evening, casting warm glows on faces animated with laughter and excitement. Fireflies hummed and shone around the vast Christmas trees lining the very edges of the room; green boughs stretching towards the sky itself, bedecked in magical splendour. Golden wisps of smoke trailed lazily over the scene, and bubbles hovered along the frosty boughs, bauble-like, ensnaring a shimmering rainbow within each sphere. The Great Hall was completely transformed in festive greenery, holly swathes hanging between the pillars, their red berries glittering like jewels in the muted light.
Harry and Ginny hurried across the room to a small round table where Ron was sitting, waving frantically at them. A few heads turned in their direction as they passed, and Harry fixed his eyes firmly on the floor in front of him, trying not to blush, but holding Ginny's hand more tightly.
"What took you so long?" Ron asked indignantly, as Harry and Ginny slid into their seats with relief, glad to sink into blissful obscurity once more.
"My fault," Ginny admitted ruefully. "Too much Muggle poetry and not enough time to get dressed." The tiny stars in her hair sparkled gently in the half-light of the chamber as she spoke, and Harry gazed at her, quite entranced.
"I can't believe you forgot," Ron teased her. "I mean, you've been dying to go out with Harry like this since you were ten. The momentous occasion finally arises, and you're reading a book?"
Ginny turned scarlet and Ron suddenly uttered a startled "Ouch!" Either his sister or his girlfriend had clearly kicked him hard under the table.
"No harm done," Hermione said soothingly to Ginny as Ron gingerly rubbed his shin. "To be honest, I'm surprised at how quick you were. It's taken me hours to get dressed."
"Well, I'm probably still wearing Bill's old socks under my robes," Ginny laughed, regaining a bit of her composure, but glancing anxiously at Harry. He grinned at her.
"You look gorgeous, Gin," he said, flushing a little as Ron stared at him. He reached for the parchment menu propped up in the centre of the table. "Hope the food's as good as it was last year. I'm starving."
The food was, indeed, sumptuous. The house elves had surpassed themselves with the feast they had prepared, and as dishes were quickly emptied, they vanished magically from the table and were replaced by new ones. By the time the Christmas pudding materialised, flames flickering fiercely, Harry found that he was actually enjoying himself. Ginny was recounting a comical story about one of her Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons where they'd been studying urisks. A couple of the creatures had escaped from the classroom at the end of the lesson and had spent the next few days haunting poor Colin Creevey and terrorising him every time he went near any dimly lit part of the castle.
"It took Professor McGonagall ages to work out why he kept checking over his shoulder every couple of minutes," Ginny chuckled. "I'm convinced she thought it was a nervous twitch."
The conversation moved on to the wyvern the fifth years were working on in Care of Magical Creatures. Hagrid was delighted with his new pet as it was the closest thing to a dragon he was allowed to have within the Hogwarts grounds; Harry, Ron and Hermione were less than enthusiastic about a creature with foot-long talons and a vicious stinging barb at the end of its tail.
"It can't be all bad though," Ron laughed, as Dumbledore created the dance floor by waving his wand and sending the tables and chairs floating to the edges of the room. "He nearly got Malfoy with that jet of flame last week. It was a great shot."
There was a slight commotion as the band arrived, partly because Witch and Wonder were a new sensation on the music scene, but also because many of the sixth and seventh years remembered them from when they were at school. Their tightly fitted dragon-hide trousers caused quite a stir in the younger girls, and even Ginny and Hermione raised their eyebrows and exchanged smiles. The band members grinned widely at the hubbub in the hall, and with an amplified, "Hello Hogwarts!" began to play.
The floor was immediately filled with people dancing. Dumbledore waltzed past with Professor Sprout, his eyes twinkling merrily in the candlelight, and Harry could make out the entertaining sight of Draco Malfoy struggling to dance with Pansy Parkinson, but failing dismally as he tripped over yet another flounce on the hem of her canary yellow robes. Ron and Hermione vanished into the throng, but Fred Weasley paused briefly beside them on his way to the floor.
"Harry," he said seriously. "That's our little sister you're with. Hands on her waist. You got that? Nowhere else."
"Fred!" she exploded, but he had disappeared, and was spotted a few moments later dancing exuberantly with Angelina.
"I'm going to kill him," she muttered venomously, fumbling for her wand. "How do you reckon he'd look in Ron's dress robes from last year?"
"You wouldn't?" said Harry in some trepidation, knowing full well that she definitely would. "Ginny," he caught her hand in his before the damage was done. "It doesn't matter much anyway. You know I can't dance." She stopped in her tracks and considered him thoughtfully.
"You've just never been shown how to," she said. "I was the guinea pig my brothers learned to dance with, and believe me, you can't be worse than Percy for standing on my toes; I can still feel the bruises now." Harry laughed at her anguished expression. "Come on, I'll teach you." She grabbed his hand and pulled him gently onto the dance floor.
Nervously he slid his arm around Ginny's waist, and gulped silently as he felt her body move in closely against his own, her hand resting lightly on his upper arm. She smiled up at him, making his pulse quicken.
"Just follow me, Harry. It's easy, I promise."
Revolving slowly, holding Ginny in his arms, Harry felt a surge of sheer pleasure thrilling through his veins. It felt so much like she belonged there, nestled in beside him, guiding him with the lightest of touches. The stars about her twinkled gently, as they turned, and he found himself gazing into her eyes and smiling, almost forgetting about what his feet were doing.
"That's it," she said reassuringly, caressing his arm with her left hand and sending tingles of delight up his spine. "You're doing better than Ron." She nodded her head in her brother's direction and grinned. "He still counts every step." Sure enough, Harry could see Ron's lips moving as he doggedly concentrated on putting his feet in the right place rather than on Hermione's toes.
One song blended into the next, as they danced on, growing ever closer and more oblivious to those around them. Ginny rested her head against Harry's shoulder and he held her tightly, never wanting to let her go.
"It's no good," he heard George's voice say mournfully. "They're not the regulation six inches apart." Ginny closed her eyes and groaned.
"You'd think our Quidditch captain would have a better grasp of distances than that," Fred responded equally sadly.
"If you ask me, he's got far too good a grasp on some things," George added. "Our little sister for example."
Ginny pulled away from Harry, her eyes flashing furiously at her twin brothers.
"Enough!" she snapped at them.
"But Gin," George said innocently. "We promised Mum we'd keep an eye on you."
"Fine," she retorted, staring at him angrily through narrowed eyes. "C'mon Harry."
"Where are you off to?" Fred asked, slightly anxiously, seeing his sister's livid expression.
"Oh, perhaps to have sex in the rose garden," she shrugged with nonchalance, then giggled wickedly at their totally horrified expressions. "Well, if you're so keen to keep an eye on us, it would be a shame to make your entire evening dull."
"Ginny!" George croaked, having finally found his voice. "You can't… you wouldn't…"
"Of course I wouldn't," she snapped. "Which is why I don't need two enormous oafs of brothers breathing down my neck. I'm perfectly safe with Harry, and you both know it. Now go away and leave us alone before I get really mad!"
As Fred and George slunk away, Ginny glanced apologetically at Harry, and moved restlessly towards the door.
"I've got to get out of here for a few minutes to calm down," she said, rubbing her face in frustration. "Do you want to come for a quick walk, or are you OK here for a while?"
"I'll come," said Harry immediately, reaching for her hand. She smiled up at him as he touched her, her expression relaxing once more.
"I'm sorry about saying that," she confessed, as they headed out of the main door, and down the steps onto the lawn, shivering in the sudden chill of the air. "They just really got my goat in there. I wish I were an only child sometimes."
"It doesn't matter, " Harry reassured her, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her close for warmth. "I think you gave them a bit of a shock though."
"Yeah," she giggled and her eyes glistened mischievously. "They had no idea that I knew where the rose garden was." Harry snorted with laughter, his breath clouding the night air, and they crunched their way along the gravel path towards the lake end of the castle.
It seemed that Ginny was heading for a specific spot; a wooden bench, tucked neatly into a nook in the castle walls. Harry had never noticed it before, but it was particularly pleasant sitting there with her, sheltered from the wind, with the darkness of the lake glimmering gently before them when the moon broke through the clouds.
"Do you come here often?" he chuckled, unable to resist it.
"Quite a lot," she laughed, conjuring a small fire for some heat. "It's a great place to sit and think, because no one really knows you're here. I found it in my first year, when… y'know…" She bit her lip and it tore at Harry's heart.
"Ginny," he said, brushing his hand gently against her cheek. "You're safe now. Now is what matters; live for the present and the future. We can't do anything to change the past, no matter how much we want to." He shifted restlessly in the seat, and gazed out over the darkness of the lake.
"Cedric," she whispered, and he knew she understood completely. She captured his hands in hers and tried to move him onto happier thoughts. "And what about the future, Harry?"
"That's something I'd like to share with you," he said slowly and honestly, his heart lurching with fear of rejection. "I can't imagine my future without you in it, but I'm also… I'm…" He broke off and with a deep breath, tried again, seeking strength from her hands, still warmly clasping his. "Ginny, I'm scared Voldemort will use you to get to me. We've done a protection spell to try and stop him, just in case. Please don't get mad with me; I did it because I want you to be safe. Then, what happens if we do start a relationship and he does manage to kill me? It could happen. You know it could. That'll really hurt you, and I don't know if I can do that. Look how Cho reacted after he murdered Cedric. I can't do that to you."
The words came tumbling out before he could stop them; a waterfall of cascading emotions, his innermost thoughts and fears exposed in fairly random order. He looked desperately at her.
"Oh Harry!" she exclaimed softly, her eyes filled with concern. "We should have talked long before now, shouldn't we?" She knelt on the bench, facing him, completely serious for once, her brow furrowed in thought. "Look into my eyes, Harry, and tell me what you see in there." He did as he was bid, searching the liquid brown pools of her eyes by the amber firelight, puzzled at first when he saw his own reflection peering back at him.
"It's me," he said, at last, not looking away from her for even a second.
"Exactly," she said, earnestly. "You're there; in my eyes, in my heart, in my skin," she gestured to the scar on her wrist. "It's like you're already part of me, Harry. I can't explain it, but it's there, and I wouldn't have it any other way."
"But Voldemort?" he croaked, stunned by the depth of her feelings and cast completely adrift in the unexpected tide of emotions that engulfed him.
"Harry," she said, holding his hand tightly. "I can't be any more protected than I am, and I have you to thank for it. I know how Voldemort works, never forget that." Her face suddenly went white and her eyes took on a haunted look, but Harry could see she was determined to continue. "I know how he manipulates people. He's done it to me. Taking over my mind, insinuating, forcing me to do things I didn't want to. You struggle and struggle against it, but once he's got his claws in, he never lets you go. There's no mercy. I know he'd have killed me when I'd stopped being useful to him."
"Gin-" but she held a finger to his lips to silence him.
"Harry," she continued gently, unshed tears shining in her eyes." What I'm trying to say, is that I know what could happen, far better than anyone else. I know what he could do to me, and I'm prepared to take my chances with it. As for what he might do to you," she paused and shivered. "Who knows how long we've got; a week, a month, a year, a life time? We have to make the most of whatever time we've got, otherwise we'll only regret the things we could have done, but didn't."
The tears began to fall, silently, and Harry reached out, burying her in a hug. There was no need for words; they would have been totally inadequate anyway. He held her; his world in his arms. The tiny stars glistened still in her fiery hair, and for the first time in a long while, Harry felt at peace with himself.
"Sorry," she sniffled, brushing the tears away brusquely with her hand. "It's been one of those days."
"Do you really feel like that, Ginny?" he asked curiously. "About us, I mean." She nodded, gazing up at him with a wan smile. Her face was inches from his, as he caressed her cheek thoughtfully, wiping smudges of tears away and making her smile. She propped herself up a little to look at him, and he saw the familiar sparkle return to her eyes.
"Harry Potter, you could procrastinate for England," she giggled softly, and leaned across to kiss him.
Instinctively, Harry tightened his arms around Ginny; the sensation of her breath brushing lightly against his lips made him forget to breathe himself. A gentle, slightly tentative kiss sent tingling shock waves of electricity through him, making the hairs on the back of his neck prickle and stand on end. She pulled back a little from him, hand still touching his cheek, her eyes widening as she stared at him. He could feel her trembling.
"Wow!" he managed to say, trying to remember how to fill his lungs with air. He swallowed. Breath eventually came in ragged little bursts, very unsteadily.
"I'm not sure if we got that quite right," she murmured, voice quivering slightly. Her eyes twinkled. "Let me just try that again."
At length, Harry reluctantly freed his lips from hers, fireworks fading from his mind.
"We really should be getting back to the ball, otherwise Fred and George will think that I have abducted you into the rose garden," he teased.
"Mmmm. I suppose so," she agreed unwillingly, pulling a face at him. "It's going to take them a while to get used to this as it is." She nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck and smiled happily to herself. "It's going to take me some time to get used to it as well, come to that."
"Tell me about it," he chuckled gently. "Imagine the ribbing I'm in for. You're my best friend's little sister and I've been controlling you with the Imperius Curse for bits of this term. They're going to have hours of fun with that one. Can you imagine Fred and George on the topic?"
"Couldn't get a date the proper way, Harry, so you had to resort to brainwashing her!" she laughed.
"I suppose she'd have to be under some sort of enchantment, otherwise she'd never have gone anywhere near you," he added, his mirth at the idea bubbling over into fits of laughter.
Well, I suppose if you're going to be teased for it anyway..." Her speech trailed away, but her eyes danced rather seductively. He couldn't resist it.
"Kiss me." His voice suddenly seemed far huskier as he lowered his face towards hers. "I command you. Imperio."
Her arms entwined around him, but she slowly raised an eyebrow, stopping him millimetres away from his goal.
"Oh all right," he smiled. "Please."
***
Harry stood up from the bench to extinguish the fire. Ginny looked at him, suddenly serious, the starlight twinkling through the russet hues of her hair.
"Any regrets about this?" she asked, as he offered a hand to pull her to her feet.
"None," he said firmly. "I've never felt so sure of anything in my life."
Snowflakes were beginning to fall as they skirted the edge of the castle, the gravel path crunching and sliding under their feet. Ginny twirled around in her excitement, making Harry laugh as she stretched out her palms to catch some flakes as they drifted downwards.
"We'll have snow for Christmas," she said, eyes alight with happiness, as the whiteness of the weather began to whirl more heavily around her. "It's perfect." Harry caught her hand and pulled her swiftly into the dryness of the entrance hall, where they stood and watched the snowfall eddying wildly and burying the landscape completely.
Strains of music and laughter wafted from the Great Hall, and Ginny touched Harry's arm as she returned his smile. Before they had a chance to rejoin the party, the door swung open, and Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle strolled through. Malfoy caught sight of Harry, with Ginny close by his side, and his face broke into a highly superior sneer.
"My, my, Potter," he drawled loftily, his eyes raking arrogantly over the pair of them from head to toe. "How the mighty have fallen. Did you have trouble getting a date for the ball this year? Fancy having to come with..." He paused, looking rather as if he had a nasty smell under his nose and continued. "With that?"
Harry felt white hot anger blazing through him such as he had never known before. How dare Malfoy talk about Ginny like that. Her restraining hand on his back was the only thing preventing him from pulverising Malfoy through the wall and into the middle of next week.
"Jealous are you, Malfoy?" he growled through gritted teeth, fists clenched tightly at his sides. "I suppose you've had enough of Parkinson in that ridiculous yellow thing she calls dress robes. Well, I warn you. Stay away from Ginny. She's far too good for the likes of you."
Malfoy's sneer grew more pronounced as he realised he had hit a raw nerve, and his eyes glittered with malice as he headed in for the kill.
"Potter," he said silkily. "I wouldn't be seen dead anywhere near a Weasley."
"Just as well," Ginny interjected unexpectedly, her hand now caressing Harry's back to soothe him. She laughed, catching Malfoy totally off guard. "We wouldn't want you, Draco dear. Although I must admit that the vision of you dead is a rather appealing one."
"Well, what can I say?" Malfoy said coldly, looking at her in sheer disgust. "The two of you deserve each other."
"Yeah. We think so too." Harry grinned over at Ginny, his fury subsiding. "Now, if you don't mind, we've a ball we'd rather like to get back to."
"You think you're so clever, don't you, Potter?" Malfoy spat the words out as they walked past him. "Your time will come a lot sooner than you think. Just you wait."
The Great Hall was still full with blurs of colours dancing, or people perched around the tables at the perimeter of the room with gaggles of friends. Harry glanced around, and quickly spotted Ron and Hermione at the regular Gryffindor end of the room. Hermione had her elbow on the table and was propping her chin up on her hand, listening patiently, albeit with a slightly glazed expression, whilst Ron was gesticulating wildly about something. Harry glanced over at Ginny, suddenly realising with a delighted jolt of his stomach that she was no longer simply his friend. She was right, her brothers were going to find this new relationship very difficult to adjust to, but there was no turning back now. Not that he wanted to. He squeezed her hand gently, and she smiled, causing joy to bubble up within him.
They wove their way through the throngs of people and along the edge of the dance floor to rescue Hermione from what was almost certainly another rant about the Chudley Cannons' appalling performance in the Quidditch league so far this season.
"Hi there!" Hermione exclaimed in relief as she saw them approaching.
"Where have you two been?" asked Ron, eyeing them suspiciously, Chudley Cannons temporarily forgotten.
"You'd better ask Fred and George about that," Ginny said, mischievously glancing sideways at Harry, who felt himself grinning idiotically again. Ron got to his feet, frowning slightly at his little sister.
"Anyone want another butterbeer?" he asked.
There was a general mutter of consensus, so Harry left Ginny with Hermione and followed Ron to give him a hand with the drinks. Sneaking a look back at the two girls, he was well aware of what they were discussing so intently and blushed deeply.
"I'm not asking," Ron commented, seeing his friend's red face. He handed him the bottles and gathered some glasses together with a gentle clink. "I'd rather not know what you're getting up to with my little sister."
"Oh, I've been given very strict instructions by Fred and George," Harry laughed. He recited: "Hands on her waist, and nowhere else."
"Seriously?" Ron sounded completely incredulous. "Y'know, when they found out I was going out with Hermione, they spent ages recommending interesting places to put my hands. Not that you should do that with Ginny," he added hastily, as an afterthought. "No. Definitely not."
Harry blushed even more furiously at the thought, his elbow knocking an empty glass off the bar, sending it crashing to the floor and shattering noisily into smithereens.
"Reparo!" Ron spluttered, waving his wand at the mess and reassembling the goblet on the counter once more. "Excellent!" he exclaimed in delight, chuckling away. "I'm so glad you're still doing that, Harry."
Harry grinned sheepishly.
The remainder of the evening drifted by in a haze of happiness, and all too soon Witch and Wonder launched into their final melody as midnight approached.
"I think I could get used to this dancing business," Harry murmured in Ginny's ear. She smiled sleepily and snuggled her head into his shoulder as they slowly turned around the dance floor
"Thank you," she said quietly.
"What for?"
"A wonderful evening. And for being you."
Contentment such as he had never known flooded through him as he held her. There was something about Ginny that he couldn't explain away. Usually he shrank from any form of physical contact; after all, he had grown up with the Dursleys, and the thought of a hug from Aunt Petunia was almost laughable. He had become less embarrassed over the years by both Hermione and Mrs Weasley's affectionate gestures, but they still made him feel awkward sometimes. Yet here with Ginny, like this, it all felt so incredibly right. This closeness between them was weaving its own particular brand of magic and Harry was utterly enchanted by it.
Glancing down at her, he suddenly realised she was almost asleep on her feet.
"Come on then, Cinderella," he teased gently, leading her off the dance floor. "Let's get you back to the common room before the clock strikes midnight and you turn into a pumpkin."
"I don't want this to end," she murmured as he led her back up the staircase, her hand held firmly in his own. "It's been so wonderful, Harry. I'm half scared I'll wake up and find it's all been a dream."
"It's not, I promise," he smiled at her, understanding exactly what she meant.
They approached the portrait of the fat lady in the pink dress, the guardian of Gryffindor Tower, and to their entertainment, they saw that she was not alone. Emeric Ambrose, third headmaster of Hogwarts, was wedged into the picture with her, his party hat crooked and his robes awry. The fat lady drained her goblet of mead, and giggled with him, looking rather red in the face.
"Ahem," Harry interrupted politely, raising his eyebrows.
"Password?" the portrait asked, hiccuping gently and turning a far pinker shade than her dress.
"Mistletoe," Harry and Ginny said in unison. As the portrait swung aside, they distinctly heard the masculine tones sounding from the frame:
"Ah, mistletoe, dear lady. May I?"
They clambered through into the half empty common room, giggling together.
"I'll wait for you in the morning, if you want me to, Ginny," he said quietly as they paused at the foot of the stairs. "How about we have breakfast together?"
"I'd like that," she responded sleepily. "I really would. Goodnight then, Harry." She smiled with pleasure, her brown eyes melting into his own, making Harry forget the existence of the rest of the world as he bent his head to kiss her. Nothing else mattered.
"'Night, Gin," he whispered, an irrepressible grin spreading across his features. She reached out and touched his cheek thoughtfully one last time, and Harry stared after her as she drifted dreamily up the girls' staircase, watching her until she disappeared from sight completely.