Chapter Seventeen
The Wedding
~*~
A/N: Thanks to Honeychurch, who wrote the whole Trelawney toast as a birthday gift to Zsenya. You are so very talented, and so muchly loved. Prismapillars are the invention of Jedi Boadicea. Giggle Grenades would not exist without the brilliant imagination of Cap'n Kathy.
~*~
After Lavender and Seamus had said their vows on the sandy banks of the Hogwarts lake, the procession filed out of the school's war-torn gates and down the road toward the village of Hogsmeade. Fred and George had provided plenty of fireworks and several of the villagers opened their doors or windows to see what was causing the commotion. Several older witches and young children joined in the festivities along the way.
The Three Broomsticks had been decorated outside, as well as in. Flowers trailed down the sides of the windows, which, for once, were open wide. Enchanted butterflies of all colors flew in and out and up and down, landing on the guests as they entered the pub.
Inside, the Three Broomsticks looked entirely different from what anyone was used to. Sunlight poured through the open windows. The tables were arranged along the walls, leaving an adequate space in the middle of the room for dancing. In the center of each table was an assortment of food, and Madam Rosmerta stood at the bar, resplendent in ruby-red robes.
"How old do you suppose she is?" Ginny whispered to Hermione as they headed towards their table. "She looks so young!"
Hermione glanced appraisingly at Madam Rosmerta. "She was here when Sirius and Remus were at school, so she must be at least fifty. Probably older. Wizards age differently from Muggles, so I can't really tell, but I know that Professor McGonagall is almost eighty, and for a Muggle, that would be near the end of your life, whereas she's only halfway through hers. It's amazing. We're really lucky."
Ginny looked back over at Madam Rosmerta, who was busy handing out a pink lemonade and champagne concoction that she had dubbed 'The Finnigan Brown'. "I hope I look that good when I'm her age, whatever it is," she said approvingly, and Madam Rosmerta shot her a sudden, proud smile.
"She heard you!" Hermione gasped.
"Good." Ginny settled down at a table, along with Hermione, Harry and the rest of her family. Together, they delved into the wedding supper, which ended with the ringing sound of silver against glass. Dean Thomas had got to his feet.
"As Best Man, I'm supposed to say something funny and clever about these two idiots over here." He gestured to Seamus and Lavender, who grinned at him amidst the laughter. "But I'm no good at jokes and speeches. Seamus is my best mate, and Lavender's a wonderful girl. They belong together. Have for years. I'll never forget our fourth year, when he asked her to our first school ball - he came up to the dorms afterward, looking pretty shocked, pulled me aside and said, 'She said yes!'" He smirked at Seamus. "I don't blame you for being surprised, Finnigan. I thought she was crazy then, and I think so now."
Everyone laughed, while Lavender kissed Seamus's cheek and leaned her head on his shoulder.
"Congratulations. Cheers!" Dean raised his glass, the whole room drank together, and Parvati Patil got up in the following silence.
"After Seamus asked Lavender to marry him, she came up to our dormitory, lay on her back, and stared at the ceiling for a long, long time," Parvati began somberly, touching her hand to her heart. "It was probably quite good practice for this evening," she added.
Seamus and Lavender went scarlet as the room roared with laughter - the twins howled, Harry laughed so hard he actually spit into his napkin, Ron choked on what he was eating, and though Hermione cried "Parvati!" in the most scandalized tone she could muster, she was laughing, too. Ginny could scarcely breathe, she was so overcome with giggles, but she attempted to control herself, as her mother was eyeing all of them in shock.
"She's my dearest friend," Parvati continued. "And I've seen how much she and Seamus love each other. They were both at Hogwarts, the day Voldemort disappeared."
The room went silent. Beside her, Ginny felt Harry slide down slightly in his seat.
"We all saw the school today - it's badly damaged. So were many people. So would Seamus have been, if Lavender hadn't got between him and a couple of wizards who were trying to curse him when he was down."
Ginny caught a silent breath. She could feel Harry looking at her.
"He would have done the same for her," Parvati went on, "and I can't give this marriage any higher praise. I love them both, and I wish them joy. Cheers!"
Lavender burst into tears, and Parvati sat down amidst wild applause.
"Well, my dears," Professor Trelawney's curiously breathy voice cut through the noise in the room like a knife, although it was scarcely pitched above a whisper. "I must say the auras in this room are bright this evening." She paused for a moment, and when she began again, her voice was slightly tragic.
"Not all as bright as one would wish...no. Not all." Her eyes skittered over the crowd- several people shifted uncomfortably, and edged away from her line of vision. "But the fates are not always kind, I have found." She sighed almost perfunctorily, and shook her head. "The spirits have called me here tonight, and I must obey the promptings of fate, no matter how draining it may be for a sensitive like myself. Although I am honored that my dear Lavender and Seamus have deemed me worthy to witness the eternal binding of their souls."
She paused long enough to raise the glass in her hand. "I do not often partake of the cup that cheers, but on this occasion I find myself prompted by my spirit guides to propose a toast. To Seamus and dear Lavender. I have long known this happy day would come to pass, but I am no less pleased than those without my infallible Inner Eye..." She trailed off again, her enlarged eyes bright and unfocused. "But before we raise our glasses to the happy couple, I wish to give them my gift...a glimpse into their future." She closed her eyes tightly, and lifted one bony, beringed hand to her temple. The hush over the room grew a bit tense.
"Oh, this should really be pleasant," Hermione muttered under her breath.
"I part the mists that veil the future and I see..." Professor Trelawney's brow furrowed, and the billows of her robes quivered. "I see..." Her eyes popped back open. "I see much happiness in your future, dear ones." She looked faintly disappointed in herself, but rallying, pointed her glass skyward and intoned, "I give you Lavender and Seamus. May the stars always guide them, and the spirits surround them. My best wishes to you both."
There were audible sighs from the bridal party, but much eye-rolling at Ginny's table, before the plates were whisked away by magic, and everyone dispersed toward the dance floor. Ginny went toward Hermione, who really looked lovely in her modest red robes, with her hair done up. Ginny told her so.
"Oh, thanks," Hermione said absently, her eyes on something across the room. Ginny followed her gaze to Ron, who stood with Harry, shaking Seamus's hand.
"Ladies." George appeared at Ginny's elbow with flutes of champagne, which he handed to both girls. "Stand back now, Lee's about to start the music, and Fred and Angelina told me they were in the mood for dancing."
"I still can't believe Mum didn't kill them, eloping like that," Ginny whispered, glancing around for her mother, and taking her champagne.
Lee Jordan, who had taken a day off from the WWN, set the music to a lively, romantic tune with a flick of his wand, and Seamus led Lavender to the middle of the room for the first dance. They circled the empty floor, beaming at each other so happily that others were soon moved to join them. Fred did indeed waltz Angelina around the room - three times faster than the beat of the music, but she didn't seem to mind.
Ron approached Hermione, holding out his hand. Ginny noted a serious expression in his face that she wasn't used to seeing there - not even where Hermione was concerned. "Dance with me?" he asked simply.
Hermione put her hand in his without hesitation. Moments later she'd settled into his arms and leaned her head on his shoulder, her face against his neck. Ron briefly kissed her temple, then leaned his cheek against her hair and shut his eyes. They swayed in time to the music.
Ginny watched them, feeling hot and cold at once. Rarely did Ron and Hermione express their feelings in public - it was almost uncomfortable to catch a private glimpse of their kind of love - but she couldn't blame them. It made sense that they would forget the rest of the room, in light of all that had happened this week. The Malfoys had pressed charges against Ron, who was holding onto Hermione with more than his usual fierceness. Hermione's fingers played in the back of his hair, and she appeared to be mumbling something. Whatever it was, it made Ron sigh out, and kiss her forehead again.
Ginny wondered what Ron would do, when Hermione left for Cortona. As far as she knew, Hermione hadn't changed her mind about going to the Thinker. She was still supposed to be leaving in two days' time.
"Hi, Ginny," said a quiet voice. She jumped, and noticed that Neville Longbottom was standing beside her.
"Neville!" she exclaimed, reaching to hug him.
"Would you dance with me?" he asked, when she'd stepped back. "I promise I won't step on your toes this time."
Ginny swatted him playfully. "Of course. I want to hear all about what's going on at Hogwarts." She let him lead her out to the dance floor, felt his hand on her waist, and was surprised to find that he had honestly improved. They chatted about the greenhouses, and Neville updated her on his apprenticeship with Professor Sprout without stepping on her toes even once. Ginny found herself laughing freely as he described the look Madam Hooch had given him, when she'd been informed that Neville was going to be made full Hogwarts faculty.
"I don't think she's forgotten my first time on a broomstick," he chuckled. "But then, you weren't there for that - I'd forgotten."
"Oh, believe me, I've heard about it." Ginny exchanged grins with him, then went back to dancing, letting her gaze sweep the room. Inadvertently, she caught Harry's eyes; he was watching her, and the look on his face was undeterminable. Ginny gave a quick, close-mouthed smile, then turned her attention swiftly away, acutely unsettled at the idea of his watching her while she danced with someone else.
In search of a distraction, her eyes fell on a rather handsome older boy at the bar, whom she recognized for some reason. She puzzled over his identity until the music ended, then allowed Parvati to steal Neville, and made her way to the bar.
"I'll take a whiskey and a champagne," the boy said. "And you're looking as lovely as ever, Miss Rosie. Haven't changed a smidge."
Madam Rosmerta rolled her eyes, and put the drinks on the counter. "Go on, you flatterer." She turned to Ginny and smiled warmly. "Ah, students. It'll be a slow year, without the Hogsmeade weekends. Drink, Ginny?"
"Ginny, is it?" The older boy was looking at her curiously. "Well, if you're not a Weasley, I'm not an O'Malley. You'll be Charlie's kid sister."
Ginny bristled, but tried not to show it. "Charlie's my brother, yes."
"Hard to believe, a mad bloke like that, related to a right pretty lass like yourself." He lowered his voice. "But if Charlie asks, I didn't say so." He grinned. "I work dragons with him. Mick, here."
"Oh, of course!" Ginny exclaimed. "I thought I recognized you from pictures. Nice to finally meet you." She stuck out her hand, which Mick grabbed and kissed. She pulled it back, a bit flustered, and caught sight of Harry again. He was still watching her and she turned away a fraction, wishing he'd stop looking at her and just come ask her to dance, if he felt that way about it.
"Pay no attention," said Madam Rosmerta dryly, wagging a finger at Mick. "He's been at that since he was thirteen, he has." She pushed a champagne across the bar to Ginny, who took it, glad for the distraction.
"Well, it's been lovely, girls," Mick said, picking up his whiskey in one hand, and his champagne in the other, "but I've got a bit of a pressing matter to attend to. Be back to torment you in a bit." He turned to leave, but stopped short and grinned widely at the blonde woman who'd just come up behind him, carrying an empty glass. "Well if it isn't my other Miss Rosie." He bowed as much as he could with two fistfuls of liquor, and held out the glass of champagne.
The blonde woman didn't take it. Her jaw dropped. "Mick - Mr. O'Malley - what are you doing here?"
"Seamus Finnigan's my cousin, Miss Secretary Privy Rose K. Brown. I was at the wedding, if you didn't notice."
"Well Lavender's my sister! I was in the wedding, if you didn't notice."
"Oh, I noticed all right. Those dress robes are a sight better than the Ministry issue." Mick raised an eyebrow, and Ginny stifled a giggle. The robes that Lavender had chosen for her bridal party were quite form fitting.
Rose's cheeks went pink. "Excuse me," she muttered, trying to push past him to the bar.
"Now what's with all that self-sufficiency, when I've got you a drink right here?" Mick demanded, downing his whiskey with one hand and thrusting the champagne flute at Rose with the other. "Bit rude of you to ignore me altogether. Thought you were the well-bred sort. We called you the Slytherin Sweetheart, once upon a time."
Rose sighed, and grudgingly took the champagne. "Fine. Happy?"
"Not by a long shot. I've got a couple of top secret Ministry matters to take up with you. Serious questions. I mean it."
"Do you?" Rose asked, lowering her voice and shooting a sideways look at Ginny that told her she wasn't welcome to listen to the conversation. "Well we can hardly talk here - is it urgent?"
"You'd better believe it."
"Well..." Rose frowned. "I don't have my briefcase and notes, but if you need a word in private, I suppose..."
"You won't need notes for this." Mick gestured to the back door of the pub. "And yeah, it'd better be in private."
Rose led the way to the back alley, and Mick followed, shooting a roguish smile over his shoulder at Ginny, and winking. The door banged shut behind them.
"He is awful," Ginny gasped. "That was not about the Ministry - poor Rose!"
Madam Rosmerta laughed, and polished a row of empty glasses with a sweep of her wand. "I've got a bit of experience watching scenes like that one, and Rose is doing just as she pleases, you trust me. Ah - lovely. My regulars."
The twins had approached the bar. They seated themselves on either side of Ginny, to talk business with Madam Rosmerta. It seemed that the end of the war had brought about good times, both for the Three Broomsticks, and for Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.
Ginny listened, feeling quite proud of her brothers for all they'd contributed to the Death Eaters' defeat. It had been Fred's plan to exchange the real wands of suspected Dark wizards with the fake ones they'd invented at the Burrow. That had proved a tricky operation, but on more than one occasion, the Order of the Phoenix had seen it successfully accomplished. And the wands hadn't been the only help - Giggle Grenades had been one of their first major inventions to hit the market, and had gained popularity at the beginning of the war. But though they'd certainly helped business, they'd actually proved strategically useful. It had been George's decision to use a stronger version of the Giggle Grenade during battles, to distract the enemy. Some people had called it a foolish idea, but it had been a brilliant one; true happy laughter was, to the Death Eaters, almost as bad as an Unforgivable Curse. Addle-brained with laughter, Dark wizards had been useless, and what had begun as a party trick had ultimately saved Ron's life.
"Orders are pouring in for those things," Fred was saying now. "International demand on 'em. George here is going to make us rich if he keeps having good marketing ideas."
"Not like the wands aren't still selling out," George shot back. "We take equal credit."
"Enough." Madam Rosmerta smiled, pushed tankards at both of them, and pointed to George's goatee. "Very nice," she said, with a coquettish smile that made George's cheeks go ruddy. Although the twins still looked identical in almost every way, George's chin now set him apart, and Ginny had to admit that it was strangely dashing.
"I think I'm going to start one of those as well!" Fred said brightly. "If it looks good on him, then it looks good on me."
But Angelina had just approached from chatting with Lee Jordan, and she twined her long arms around Fred from behind, making him jump. "I heard that," she said sweetly. "And like most witches, I know plenty of good spells for removing unwanted body hair." She touched Fred's smooth chin. "Just you try to grow one of those things."
George doubled over with laughter and Fred looked quite put out, although Ginny suspected that he secretly didn't mind Angelina's bossing. He allowed himself to be tugged from his stool and back out to the dance floor, as Ron approached the bar.
"My little brother here is your fellow bartender, I'll have you know," George said proudly to Madam Rosmerta. "He's been tending bar at the Snout's Fair in Stagsden all summer."
"Really?" asked Madam Rosmerta, amusedly crossing her arms. "Do you think you could handle this place?"
Ron looked up and down the bar, and shrugged. "Sure. Why, do you want a break, or something?"
Madam Rosmerta seemed a bit taken aback by the offer. "Well, that... it's not...." She put her hands on her hips. "Yes, in fact - I feel like dancing. You'll really mind the bar while I take a spin? What a love."
Ron got behind the counter at once, his ears burning a bit red. Madam Rosmerta flashed him a winning smile, and George got unexpectedly to his feet.
"I'll spin you," he offered, grinning at the dubious look on her face. "Oh come on - not a student anymore, am I?" he asked, raising his eyebrows and holding out his arm. Madam Rosmerta laughingly took hold of it, and the two of them made their way onto the dance floor.
"Drink, Gin?" asked Ron, grabbing a dishtowel and starting to wipe up some of the spills on the counter.
"Got one, thanks." She turned on her stool, and entertained herself for several minutes watching Colin Creevey, who had come to the wedding with Eloise Midgen, camera in hand. He was so much like a man now that she could barely detect traces of the little classmate who had used to follow Harry about Hogwarts. He adjusted knobs on his camera with practiced ease, and hoisted it up to his shoulder to peer through at Lavender, who was grinning shyly into her bouquet. Colin snapped several pictures, then lowered his camera and nodded.
"Lovely," he said sincerely. "Really, that's going to look great."
"And it's... really going to go in the paper?" Lavender asked hesitantly, looking over at Parvati.
"And why shouldn't it?" Parvati demanded, looking proudly at her friend. "You're perfect. Anyway, I say this makes a great story - we all need a little happy news, and it's a nice way to take the sting out of September first." She sniffed, and lowered her voice. "I'm really glad you picked today, for this," she mumbled, hugging Lavender quickly. Colin snapped another photograph, and Ginny smiled to herself. That would be a nice one. "Now." Parvati stepped back and swiped briskly beneath her eyes. "I'll stay quiet for your interview, you go on."
Lavender turned to Eloise.
"How did you choose the date?" Eloise read from her scroll, with much more confidence than she'd had at the beginning of the summer.
"It's the first day of school," Lavender answered promptly. "We've always seen all our friends on the first day of school, and I think our class should always make a point to be with each other on September first. I think it'd be nice, to make that tradition."
"It would," Eloise agreed. "I wish my class had done that. But going on - why did you decide to do the wedding at Hogwarts?"
"We wanted it to be really ours, and I can't think of anywhere more meaningful. Plus which, Seamus asked me to marry him, at Hogwarts."
"Oh, how?" Eloise asked girlishly, forgetting her notes for a moment and gazing wistfully at the bride. "What exactly did he say?"
Colin glanced at her, and surreptitiously turned his camera in her direction. There was a snap, and a cloud of purple, and Eloise looked at Colin in surprise.
"Sorry," he said quickly. "Finger slipped. You were saying, Lavender?"
"Well..." Lavender fidgeted with her bouquet. "I suppose he wouldn't mind my telling the story. It's very simple. We were down behind the greenhouses right after our last-ever Herbology exam - we were just looking at plants," she explained, blushing.
Ginny held back a snort of disbelief. If there was one couple she couldn't believe that of, it was Seamus and Lavender. Still, she leaned her chin in her hand and listened to the rest of the story, feeling rather wistful, herself.
"Seamus asked me if I was still planning to go straight home, after we got back to King's Cross. I said, well, of course. Where else would I go? And he..." She paused, and her eyes focused inward, remembering. "He said, you should be coming to Ireland, with me. I want you with me. I'm not saying goodbye to you at some train station."
Ginny's eyes suddenly stung. Eloise sniffled.
"And I was shocked, you know? I said, Seamus -" she laughed, as if the conversation were taking place all over again "- how can I live there with you? Your mum would have a fit. And my dad would have your head, so there's no use in you trying to come to York with me. And Seamus said... well... we could do it. If we were married right off."
Parvati let out a little sigh.
"I just remember looking at him and then he was suddenly on his knees in the dirt - proposing. And I started laughing, I didn't think he really meant it, but he took my hands and looked so serious that I had to believe him. He said he didn't want to be apart for even one day. He said that, if I'd have him, then he'd do everything I ever wanted." Lavender grinned, a bit wickedly. "So I said yes."
"Just like that?" Eloise asked softly.
Lavender shrugged. "Well, no... not just like that. We've known each other forever. And we've been in love a long time. And nobody else really knows... all the... I don't know - truthfully, if he hadn't asked, I might've lost my head at King's Cross and done it for him."
Parvati laughed. "That, I would have enjoyed."
"Oh, you hush." Lavender nudged her. "Were there any other questions, Eloise?"
Eloise dabbed at her eyes and shook her head, making her curls move prettily. "No - that's just the story I wanted. Congratulations. Thanks so much for having us here."
But Ginny lost track of Lavender's reply when Fred wandered back over to the bar, yelling. "Oi! Ron! Angelina wants another one of those Finnigan-Brown drinks."
Ron grimaced. "Does she? I think they're foul."
Fred shrugged. "They're a bit weak, but what can you do?"
"Not a thing, 'cause we're out of champagne. Where's Madam Rosmerta?"
Ginny scanned the crowd but didn't see Madam Rosmerta dancing anywhere.
"Well, never mind," Ron sighed. "I expect she keeps the extra in the cellar. Fred - you want to run down and check for me?"
"Anything to keep my wife happy," Fred answered with a grin, and headed downstairs, just as a light flashed brightly in Ginny's face.
"Colin," she complained, waving purple smoke out of her eyes and sticking out her tongue at him.
He smiled, and took another picture. "That's front page material," he joked. 'Minister's Daughter Pulls Face'. Everything your family does is good for the paper now, Ginny - you'll want to be careful."
"Rubbishy stupid headlines," Ron muttered darkly, behind the bar. "Buggering idiot press, always making things worse. Bunch of slimy -"
"Ron," Ginny admonished. "Colin didn't write that article."
Ron sent a couple of glasses whirling sharply to their spots on the shelves. "I know." He popped open a bottle of Madman and took a swig of it. "Sorry, Colin."
"It's okay. I don't blame you. Flummery's a worthless piece."
"That article was really awfully biased," Eloise agreed, coming up behind Colin and shuffling scrolls in her hands. "Ron, we wanted to know if you'd let us write one. Show your side of it a bit more. We've got very friendly material from Jimmy MacMillan and Andrew Quinn already, and we've got a real report from St. Mungo's this morning -"
"You do?" Ron demanded at once, gripping the bar. "How's Malfoy? He's fine, right? He's awake? No lasting damage?"
Ginny's shoulders tensed as she waited for the answer.
"Malfoy's up and alive," Colin answered grimly. "But I caught a glimpse of him in his hospital room, from the corridor and you know, it reminded me. Remember how he wouldn't take that sling off his arm for months, after what the hippogriff did to him?"
Ron nodded tersely.
"I'd imagine he's pulling the same kind of stunt. He looked just fine, when I saw him - he was up on his feet and everything. One of the nurses who's had enough of him told me that the only reason he went unconscious in the first place was because he'd had too much to drink. The head injury looked a hell of a lot worse than it really was, because of all the blood. She said it's healing up, no trouble."
"You... that's... true?" Ron asked faintly, relaxing his fingers on the bar. His shoulders sagged in relief. "It's not that bad? He's walking around?"
"He's walking around. Saw it with my own eyes. And -" Colin tapped his camera "- proof's in here."
Ron put his hands over his face and let out a long, low breath. "Okay," he mumbled into his palms. "Okay." When he took his hands down, his eyes were suspiciously red, and he cast about for something to say, but couldn't seem to find words. "Where's Hermione?" he finally managed.
"I'll get her." Ginny touched Colin's shoulder gratefully, then bolted across the room to Hermione, who was deep in conversation with Neville and Professor McGonagall. "Hermione -" she managed.
"Hi, Ginny, just a second – then you do think I can manage the Thinker apprenticeship, Professor?"
"If you are accepted, Miss Granger, then you'll have the opportunity to find that out for yourself-"
"No, I'm so sorry to interrupt," Ginny cut in, "I know it's important, but Hermione, it's Ron - it's news about Malfoy."
Professor McGonagall's mouth set in a line and Neville paled. Hermione forgot to excuse herself from the conversation; she ran straight to Ron. As Ginny watched from across the room, Hermione ducked behind the bar and took his hands. He looked at her mutely for a moment, then bent his head and told her what must have been the good news, because she threw her arms around him and buried her face in his robes, her shoulders shaking. Colin's camera flashed.
"Malfoy's awake," Ginny said faintly to Neville and the professor. "He's out of danger." The two were visibly relieved, and Ginny made her way across the room to tell her mother. Malfoy's being conscious probably wouldn't stop the lawsuit, but at least it would make Ron's culpability much less severe.
"You're not dancing."
Ginny whirled to see Harry standing off to the side of the dance floor,
watching her with an oddly detached, guarded intensity. It startled her for a
moment – without realizing it, she'd got quite good at reading his expressions. He hadn't guarded anything from her in
several weeks, and it was strange to see him looking like he had used to during
the war – fiercely hollow.
"No," she answered, working to keep her voice normal. "I guess
I'm not."
"Do you want to?" Harry held out his hand, slightly.
"I -" Ginny began, not sure why she was hesitating. She glanced towards her mother, but decided
quickly that Harry needed to know the news about Malfoy
more than anyone else. "Okay,"
she said finally, and put her hand in his.
He gripped it. It was unnerving – she almost wanted him
to let go but a moment later they were on the dance floor and slow music had
begun to play. Ginny fought a terrible urge to blush, knowing how many people
in the room had always been aware of her feelings for Harry, certain that
everyone was watching her. She resisted
the instinct to look away from the green eyes that were focused directly on her
face. This wasn't school. She wasn't a little girl in dress robes at her first
dance.
But it was Harry.
He put a tight hold on her waist and grasped her hand in his. Ginny tried not
to let it affect her too obviously, but it was like everything with him. Overwhelming. He had never pulled her close to him
deliberately like this, and she tried to control how fast her heart was beating. He continued to search her face.
"Malfoy's awake," Ginny blurted, to stop herself from thinking any further about her feelings.
Harry paused in mid-step. "How do you know?"
"Colin was at St. Mungo's this morning, with Eloise." Ginny rushed to give Harry all the necessary information, and Harry held her tighter all the time, looking more and more relieved with every word she spoke. When she finished, he shut his eyes briefly.
"All right," he said quietly, and when Ginny began to sway to the music once more, he followed suit.
They were silent together for a long time.
"Are you having fun here?" Harry asked suddenly, finding her eyes
again.
"Yes," she said honestly. "Aren't you?"
"No."
It wasn't the answer she'd expected and it moved her for some reason. "What's wrong?"
"Hogwarts."
It was the most complete explanation possible, and Ginny didn't know how to
reply. Softly, comfortingly, she moved
her fingers on his shoulder, hardly remembering to keep dancing. "It's being rebuilt," she murmured, shutting
her eyes as he pulled her closer. She
felt oddly as if he was holding onto her for help, and she laced her fingers
into the hand that was holding hers.
"Don't worry about Hogwarts."
They swayed another moment in silence and then Harry said abruptly, "Don't
you think they're young?"
Ginny wasn't sure why, but the breath went out of her lungs at the question and
she had to wait a moment before she was capable of a response. "Seamus and
Lavender...? I think..." She felt her tongue become oddly heavy and she wasn't
sure she could say the words she needed.
"They must... love each other."
Harry made a soft sound – perhaps of derision. "Yeah," he agreed, though he didn't sound at all convinced. There was a silence, followed by another sudden question. "What did you think of their vows?"
Ginny's eyes came open and she looked desperately over
Harry's shoulder, trying to maintain her balance. What kinds of questions were these? Why was he asking her things like this? "I thought it was really lovely, what they
said." She turned her head to the side,
not wanting to give him a view of her face, which she knew was red. When she spoke again, her own voice was lower
than she had realized it could be. "Why – what did you
think?"
But he didn't answer her. He asked another question, instead. "Would you
have done it like that?"
Ginny willed herself not to bury her face against his shoulder – she wanted to
hide very badly. She knew what vows she would make. It was strange, but in a way,
she'd already given them to Harry last year, when she had agreed to take part
in the spell that had saved his life.
Hermione had made everything very clear to Harry – Ginny's function in
the process had been fully obvious. What
more could she possibly say to him, if they ever came together in the way that
Seamus and Lavender had? What more could she promise Harry than that she would
have died for him?
And then it struck her.
"I would have promised to outlive you," she answered honestly.
Harry froze. His fingers went slack in
her hand and on her waist. He released
her and stepped back, his face pale and his mouth hanging open as if he'd just
been punched. "You..." he began, and
started over. "What do you..."
Ginny went white. The blood drained from her face; she felt it go. Never had she been so embarrassed in all her life – never had she been so obvious, even where he was concerned. She hadn't meant to say those words at all. She hadn't calculated or judged them, or thought about what they would sound like. But there was no way to repeal them, and she'd more or less just admitted that she wanted to spend her life with Harry. Right to his face.
He was still gaping at her.
Both stunned and humiliated by her own transparent stupidity, Ginny quickly withdrew her hand from his limp one and pivoted away from him. The music was still playing, and dancing couples looked at her curiously as she wove her way through them and toward the door, but she didn't care. She needed to get out. She pushed the door open and felt the cool air of September hit her in the face like a slap. The door fell shut with a bang and Ginny strode rapidly away from the Three Broomsticks, from the couples dancing, from her brothers, from Lavender and Seamus – from Harry. She didn't want to be near him. She wasn't sure how she was going to bear the embarrassment, the next time they were at Lupin Lodge together.
She passed shops and cottages and eventually found herself in the unpopulated stretch of cobbled road that led to Hogwarts. Hogwarts was a good place to go – there would be quiet, there, now that the wedding was over. And there were plenty of small, private places to curl up and wish things differently, at Hogwarts. Ginny had found them all. The little alcove of trees on the far side of the lake. Hagrid's old pumpkin patch. The overgrown and rarely-used back steps at the bottom of Gryffindor tower. She came to the gate, which was laced with trailing flowers from the ceremony, and flinched at the reminder of the wedding and vows. Some people were allowed to say it out loud, when they were in love.
It was unfair. Ginny had been this way longer than Lavender ever had, and more deeply than Lavender would ever know. She snatched one of the flowers from the vine and pushed her way through the gate, ripping up the petals and letting them fall in the wet grass of the wide Hogwarts grounds, as she headed up the hill. The Quidditch pitch was on her right but she didn't look at it. It was too much Harry's. The lake was on her left and she couldn't make herself look at that, either. She had a sudden memory of Harry, during the second task of the Triwizard Tournament, and how afraid she'd been for him. How invested, even then.
Blindly she marched up the steep slope that led to the lawn outside the entrance steps, and stopped short, as if she'd run into a wall. Indeed, it felt as though a very solid, cold barrier stood here, between her body and the castle, and she almost stumbled backwards from its very present force. Confused, her head whirling from too much emotion, she looked left and right, attempting to figure out if she had managed to come up against some sort of temporary, invisible ward. Perhaps Professor McGonagall had put some up around the school, while it was under construction. It was a long, addled moment before Ginny realized what had made her stop here.
This was where it had happened. Her eyes focused on the place where she had first seen Lucius Malfoy, his wand drawn, pointed at Harry.
This was where she had put herself between them.
This was where she had almost lost her father.
This was where she had heard the words that had ended the most terrible war that the wizarding world had ever seen.
"EXPECTO SACRIFICUM!"
She had whirled to see Harry standing, his head thrown back, his chest exposed, his wand out, steady, pointing at the place where Voldemort's heart would have been, if he had had one. His voice had rung out into the sky, silencing the battle that had been raging all around him.
The silence had endured for a very long time. The spell had done nothing. And in the dreadful, deadly pause that followed, Voldemort had begun to laugh. Ginny had nearly fainted from the tone of it – careless with cold triumph. Tinged with a wanton disregard for life. Twisted. Hardened. Death made mortal. And one by one, his Death Eaters had joined him in his laughter, until the Hogwarts grounds had echoed with the dizzying noise of evil, victorious.
"It is finished..." Voldemort had hissed, bringing the noise to a halt, pinning his red eyes on Harry. "As it was meant to be finished one thousand years ago, between your ancestor and mine."
Harry had breathed heavily, not backing up, not lowering his wand, though he'd clearly been defeated. "This isn't the end," he'd panted. "Blood means nothing. Ancestors are nothing. Someone else will fight you – and win."
Ginny had whimpered, listening to him. He had spoken like a man about to die.
Voldemort had smiled – horribly. "Expelliarmus," he'd snapped, bringing Harry's wand to him, then flinging it over his shoulder. "So Priori Incantatem cannot save you...." He had lifted his own wand and aimed it at Harry's center. "Your mother cannot save you..."
Out of the corner of her eye, Ginny had seen it begin to happen. Hermione, who had been holding several younger Death Eaters away from the center of the fight, turned and raced toward Harry. Remus had somehow wrenched himself from within an Imprisonment Curse, Stunned the Death Eaters in his vicinity with a few hard twists of his wand, and followed. From the ground, a badly injured Ron had lifted his wand, pulled himself up, and begun staggering toward Voldemort. Sirius had turned his back – almost fatally – on a duel with Mr. Lestrange, transformed into Padfoot, and bolted toward his godson.
"The Order of the Phoenix and its... refreshing incompetence –" Voldemort had continued derisively, either too focused on Harry to notice the small army that approached, or too sure of his victory to pay them attention "– are of no use... what a pity... so much in vain..." His lips had curled in a serpentine smile. "Farewell, Harry Potter..."
There had been no doubt in Ginny's mind of what words Voldemort would say next. Feeling as if the world were in slow motion, she had begun to run, joining Ron and Hermione, Sirius and Remus, in throwing herself between Harry and the wand that was about to take his life. She'd felt a push at her back – Harry trying to move them all out of the way and take the fall himself – and she'd pushed back, strangely unafraid to be standing beside her brother, looking up into the flat, raw face of a man who had never known love, or life, or friendship.
And then a feeling unlike any that she had ever known had begun to burn in her heart. It had been like magic – but involuntary. Stronger. It had filled Ginny's every pore, and as it had built she'd felt its warmth not only beneath her skin, but rising up in the air on all sides of her. Love. Sacrifice. Pure nerve. Ron's and Hermione's. Remus's and Sirius's. Harry's. Her own.
Voldemort had leered down at them from his abnormal height and his lipless mouth opened on the Killing Curse. Fearlessly, Ginny had watched him speak the dreaded words, her heart still singing with some power far greater than herself.
But though the Dark Lord had mouthed the curse, he'd made no sound. His slitted eyes had widened slightly, and one long, white hand had fluttered to his throat. He'd glared coldly over their heads at Harry, and opened his mouth again – but this time he had not even been able to shape words.
As they had looked on, united in horror, the skin around Voldemort's lips had begun to shrivel and burn, receding over his teeth as if his very flesh were disintegrating. He had twisted his snakelike head from side to side, clearly in agony though unable to scream, as the blackened muscles beneath his flesh had been revealed.... then a glimpse of bone...
Revolted, sickened, triumphant, they had observed the fall of the Dark Lord as he had decayed at their feet. Ginny remembered perfectly the way he had withered before them, powerless against Expecto Sacrificum, which Harry had invoked and which they had fulfilled by defending him. Voldemort had crumbled in the wake of their love, recoiling into himself, nose collapsing, ears sinking into his head, hands and fingers shriveling into the sockets of his wrists.
His wand had fallen to the earth.
Still screaming soundlessly, Voldemort's shape had begun to shift – a flicker of the demonic man, red-eyed, power-hungry – suddenly a massive serpent, writhing, twisting in air before them, its forked tongue lashing out in futile suffering....
And then, standing alone in Voldemort's place, there had been a boy of sixteen. Pale. Dark-haired. Afraid. He might have been Harry's brother.
"Tom..." Ginny had whispered, trembling.
But with a sharp crack! of light and imploding sound, the illusion had vanished, leaving them all in darkness for a fleeting second that felt like an eternity.
And when the world had become light again, on the grass at their feet, scorched black and smoking, there had been nothing left of Voldemort but his wand.
Ginny stared at the ground now, not sure how it was possible that she remembered precisely where the wand had fallen. But she did remember, though the grass had grown back from having been burned and trampled. It had been there. Right there. She shivered violently, struck by what evil she had lived through.
She lifted her eyes to the empty castle, trying not to let her gaze linger too long on the ruined ceiling of the Great Hall, or the crumbling stone around the entrance door. She searched out Gryffindor tower, found her old dormitory window, and was possessed by a powerful urge to go inside. Quickly, she ran to the doors, which admitted her without question – they must have recognized her touch and Ginny was glad of it. She climbed the familiar stairs and raced down the corridor that led her to the portrait of the Fat Lady, where she came to a halt.
The Fat Lady's mouth dropped open at the sight of Ginny, but though her eyes lit up, her face grew wistful. She shook her head.
Ginny's heart sank. She had known the passwords to Gryffindor for so many years that it hadn't even occurred to her that there would come a time when she would be barred from entering.
"Prismapillar?" she asked hopefully. That had been the final password of her sixth year.
The Fat Lady sighed. "I'm afraid not, Miss Weasley."
"Oh please," Ginny begged. "You know me, you can change the password for me – please."
"It's quite against my rules," the Fat Lady protested gently. "You're no longer a resident of Gryffindor."
"But I should be," Ginny cried in frustration. "And I miss it. I need to see it."
The Fat Lady pursed her lips and appeared to be weighing Ginny's request, when her painted eyes focused down the corridor and her round, pink face widened in a smile. "So many old students at once," she sighed.
Ginny spun, and caught her breath. Harry was there, standing unobtrusively in the shadows at the far end of the corridor. Ginny was so struck by the look on his face, as he watched her, that she hardly heard the Fat Lady's next words.
"I suppose I can trust the two of you, as there's no one inside that's at risk. Be quick about it. The password is Fiat Lux."
"Fiat Lux," Harry repeated back, his voice low. Ginny heard the portrait swing open behind her. Harry pointed to it. "Go on," he said quietly.
Ginny made herself turn and climb through the hole. She heard Harry's footsteps and breathing just behind her, and then the portrait swung shut again, leaving them in a silence so thick that Ginny could barely think. Her mind mercilessly echoed her idiotic words back to her. I would have promised to outlive you... Her face burning, she went to the picture window across the common room and drew a deep, steadying breath.
To her surprise, the breath helped. Perhaps it was because the common room smelled so comfortingly familiar; the room itself was as clean as elfish magic could make it, but in the air hung every element of Gryffindor student life. It was a rich, wonderful, dusty smell – old books and chess sets and late night fires, muddy broomtails and victory parties, the tang of bursting Christmas crackers, the sour of spilled potions, and the old wetness of uniform cloaks, all heavy with the damp of holiday snowball fights. The smell was so full of memories that it was nearly unbearable; it overwhelmed Ginny and threatened to make her cry. But there was a feeling in this air that kept her steady – a bracing quality that seemed to reverberate from the flagstones and weave itself into the tapestries – a lingering energy that Ginny knew deep in her bones. The common room rang with a thousand years of courage.
Ginny put her fingers on the stone windowsill and let her eyes travel the lake and forest, resting her swimming gaze on Hagrid's old hut.
She heard footsteps on the carpets. They could only be Harry's, and they were coming dangerously close. Ginny stayed perfectly still and let him approach her, though why he had followed and what he wanted, she didn't dare imagine.
He took a breath – she heard it. He was so close to her back that he was nearly touching her; she could feel him at her shoulder, looking over it and out the window to survey the grounds with her.
"I can't stand being here."
She barely caught the low words, but she understood them perfectly. It was hard to stand in this room that had become her home, and to know that it was done with her. "I know," she said quietly. "Today's supposed to be… but I'm glad Remus is going to teach me."
Harry took a short breath that sounded suspiciously uncontrolled, and Ginny was shocked to feel herself seized from behind. Harry's arms were around her, pulling her as close as he could get her, and his face was buried in the slope between her shoulder and her neck. She shut her eyes and let her mouth fall open, feeling heat rise from the deepest part of her, tunneling up through her body to burn in her head. Against the side of her throat, she could feel the brush of Harry's mouth and the line of his nose – the cool lenses of his glasses.
"I can't –" he managed brokenly, into her skin. He was holding her so tight around the middle that she found it hard to breathe, and her heart opened painfully at his tone of voice. He couldn't get the words out but it didn't matter. She knew.
She covered his hands with one of her own, and reached up with her other hand to stroke the short hair at the warm nape of his neck. He was such a puzzle to others, but so simple to her – she didn't know how she knew where to touch him and what to say, but she heard herself mumble words of comfort and before long, Harry had buckled against her back. Ginny found herself – she was too dizzy to know quite how – sitting against him in the enormous Gryffindor window seat. She leaned back on his chest, happy that he kept her trapped in his arms; her head fell back against his right shoulder and he laid his face on her left one.
They were silent and still for a long time, and Ginny watched as the sun crept slowly toward the horizon. It had sunk halfway out of sight before either of them moved or spoke.
"Hermione's leaving," Harry finally croaked.
Ginny nodded. She couldn't imagine what it would be like for Harry, not having one of his family near him. He'd always had trouble letting Ron and Hermione out of his sight. She stayed quiet and waited for him to continue, not wanting to stop him now that he was finally talking about real things.
"And what if Ron…" Harry shook his head against her shoulder. "I'll kill Malfoy for this."
Ginny knew he meant it, and though the words gave her a chill, she was glad to know that Harry was so devoted to her brother. "Nothing's happened so far," she murmured, turning slightly in his arms to fit better against him. "No need to go killing neighbors yet."
Harry gave a jerk that Ginny supposed was a silent, unwilling laugh. "It's just Ron and Hermione – " Harry stopped, as if unable to find words. "Every time I – the two of them always – you know how…"
"They've been your life?"
Harry's arms tightened around her, and Ginny knew she'd made a direct hit. She rubbed her head on his shoulder. It was a privilege, being the person to whom he could speak about his life. She knew he had a hard time saying all the words to Ron and Hermione. She didn't know exactly why he was saying them to her, but she was glad.
"Well, Ron has Sirius," she said slowly, "and Hermione will come back. You know she won't last long, without the two of you."
He shrugged. "Yeah."
"And… you won't have to read anything for awhile, if you don't want!"
This time, Harry did laugh. "Yeah." He loosened his grip on her just enough to find her forearms with his hands. Ginny kept her face turned to the window, her temperature shifting at alarming rates as Harry's fingertips softly and repeatedly opened and shut, just grazing her bare skin. She knew he must be able to feel her hair standing on end, but she didn't mind. She could feel his heart, hammering against her back. Ginny had an idea that if she just turned her face to his… But she shut her eyes instead, and enjoyed being there with him in the quiet. It was strangely comfortable and right.
It was dark on the grounds, and nearly pitch-black in the common room, before his body shifted.
"We… should go back." Harry's voice was reluctant.
Ginny gave a soft little sigh. Surely he was right – their friends would have missed them by now. But she had no desire at all to leave the warm, protective circle of his arms – she'd waited too long to be inside it. As she hesitated to agree with him, she felt a wisp of something touch the back of her neck, and she shivered all the way into her bones. Had he… kissed her there? She still found it nearly impossible that – but there it was again. Ginny felt his mouth, just barely, alight on the hidden skin beneath the line of her hair, and she jumped involuntarily.
"We should really go… they'll be worried…" He was saying it almost as if he wanted her to protest.
Ginny wasn't sure why she didn't. "They will be worried," she agreed quietly, and using all her inner strength, she sat up straight. Harry's arms fell away from her and she felt an awful wrench of loss – to combat it, she lifted her hands to fix up her hair, and realized it was practically destroyed. Somehow, though, she didn't mind the idea of her hair staying tousled from having been pressed against Harry, and she dropped her hands, smiling shyly over her shoulder. "I think I'm a bit mussed up."
Harry looked confusedly at her hair. "Where? It looks good," he said, and though it was dark, Ginny thought he might have blushed. He definitely ducked his head and went about adjusting his glasses in a most unnecessary manner. Ginny watched him, feeling a thrill of importance. She gathered her courage to reach for his hand, thinking that it would be rather nice to walk back to the Three Broomsticks, holding it, when there was a violent crack! in the center of the common room that made both of them shoot to their feet and grab their wands.
"Who's there?" Harry demanded, edging ahead of Ginny toward a small, dark shape with rather large ears.
The creature lifted up a short wand with its knobbly fingers. Snap! A ball of light materialized at the end of the wand and rose to hover in the air above them, lighting the common room and all their faces. Ginny and Harry squinted for a moment in the bright light, and Harry was the first to speak.
"Dobby!" he gasped.
"Is this…" Dobby breathed, tucking his wand away and hopping up and down on overexcited feet, "… is you – Oh, Harry Potter, sir! I am thinking I will never see you again since you is done with Hogwarts! A great day! A happy day!"
"It's night," Harry remarked, but he grinned when Dobby barreled across the room and flung his arms around Harry's legs.
"You is getting tall, Harry Potter." Dobby looked up at him, and then at Ginny, hope brimming in his enormous eyes. "The Headmistress is telling us that this year the students isn't coming back to Hogwarts…" He rocked back and forth expectantly. "But maybe she is mistaken?"
"No, Dobby," Ginny said gently. "We're just visiting."
"Oh." Dobby's squashed face fell, then brightened again immediately. "But you is here to see Dobby!"
Harry opened his mouth, but Ginny cut in before he could deny that statement. "Yes, we are," she said quickly. "How are you, and Winky, and everyone?"
Dobby shook his head. "Winky is doing well, Miss. She is laying off the butterbeer unless I am making her angry."
Harry snorted, and Ginny hid a grin.
"But the other elves is having troubles," Dobby went on, twisting his fingers.
Ginny frowned. "Troubles?" she repeated. "But I thought you'd won your rights?"
"Oh, yes, Miss!" Dobby drew his strange little wand and raised it lovingly before his eyes. "The Great Leader of the Liberation Front is winning us our wages and our sick days and our wands. A generous witch. A beautiful witch."
Harry made a strangled noise – he found Ginny's hand and gripped it hard, and Ginny gripped back to keep herself from laughing. It was hilarious, the way that the elves now idolized Hermione.
"We is learning our magic again, Harry Potter." Dobby smiled proudly. "One day, I am becoming a great wizard like you and your Miss." He looked at their joined hands, and Ginny's face grew very hot.
Harry made another strangled sort of noise, though this one was very different in nature. "You said you were having troubles, though, Dobby," he managed after a moment. "Troubles like what?"
"Oh… Dobby wishes not to be bothering the great Harry Potter with –"
"Cut it out."
Dobby sighed. "There is too many of us for Hogwarts now, sir. The bad wizards is all in prison and their house-elves is coming here, for work. The headmistress is noble, she lets them all come in, but there is too many now, and when students come back, there is half of us who is having to find new jobs." Dobby shook his head sadly. "Rights is good, Harry Potter, but many families is not wanting to pay us what we earn, and where is half of us going to go?" He looked up at Harry, waiting for the answer.
Ginny and Harry looked at each other helplessly. Neither of them knew what to say.
"There must be somewhere else that needs a large amount of service," Ginny began, but she couldn't think of anywhere off the top of her head that didn't already employ all the liberated elves that it could handle. The Ministry had as many as it could afford, as did the wizarding library system, the Owl Post service, and the Children's Home. The Gringotts goblins didn't trust the elves, now that they were permitted to carry wands.
Harry also seemed at a loss. "We'll… we'll think about it for you Dobby, all right?" he said sincerely.
Dobby nodded, shining with pleasure. "Dobby has no doubt that Harry Potter will think of something."
Harry sighed, almost inaudibly. Ginny squeezed his hand. "Listen, Dobby," she said, "we've got to go now, but it was lovely, seeing you again. Oh – and Hermione says hello to you and Winky."
It was a lie, but it certainly didn't matter. Dobby looked positively ecstatic.
"Oooh, I am telling everyone!" He threw himself at Ginny, this time, and hugged her tight. "Farewell, Miss! Farewell, Harry Potter!"
Dobby's farewells followed the two of them into the corridor, and after bidding their own farewell to the Fat Lady, they laughed themselves all the way out onto the grounds.
"Don't," said Harry, trying to be serious, "and I mean do not tell Hermione that the elves are having troubles. She'll never go and be a Thinker if she can stay and campaign for them again."
"Do you think I want to wear another embarrassing button?" Ginny retorted, and the two of them burst out laughing again as they crossed the dark, slick lawns. Ginny was having such fun that she had even forgotten about her earlier memories of war and loss, until they ran across the same cold, invisible barrier she'd come up against before. She let out a cry, and threw up her hands against it.
Harry looked around them, on guard at once. "What?" he asked immediately. "What is it?"
Ginny decided not to tell him that she could somehow feel the place where Voldemort had fallen. "Nothing," she said quickly. "I slipped." She forced herself to walk past it, which was much easier to do when Harry found her hand again and held it firmly in his own.
To Ginny, it seemed the shortest walk into town that she had ever taken. She remembered being in school, wishing against all hope that one day she would be walking alongside Harry on a Hogsmeade weekend. It was satisfying on so many levels, to walk with him down the dark main street beneath a sky full of stars, with his fingers curled around hers. They didn't talk much. They didn't have to. The door of the Three Broomsticks was reached far too quickly.
Harry turned to her before reaching for the doorknob, and Ginny wondered if this was the sort of moment… she thought it was. His eyes were gentle and serious and green. Truly green. Not murky, not hazel, not a little bit blue – Ginny forgot what she was doing and where she was, and studied the color – clear and cool and inches away. She'd never seen another person with eyes so vivid; they didn't look quite real, especially surrounded by eyelashes so black that –
He was looking at her mouth. She felt herself go pale.
"Ginny…" He swallowed hard. "Can I..."
The door to the Three Broomsticks swung open, letting a wave of noise and laughter into the dark, quiet street.
"Oh – I'm sorry –" the too-familiar voice cracked with embarrassment, and a pair of brown eyes stared widely at the pair of them.
Ginny had never wanted to hurt one of her brothers. Not really. She'd slapped them, pulled their hair, tickled them, tripped them, hid their things and told on them, of course. But it was all she could do not to pull her wand and curse George Weasley right back into the pub. She glared at him.
George didn't take the hint. Instead, he stepped fully outside, letting the door slam shut behind him. He leaned up against the wall of the Three Broomsticks, and lit a sqworm with his wand.
"Mum's going to kill you if she sees you smoking that," Ginny said angrily.
"Huh?" said George absently, and then looked at the curved, orange-glowing tube clasped between his fingers. He exhaled a spicy smelling smoke and then said, "You're probably right. I guess I'll go for a walk." And with that, he kicked away from the building and strolled away from them.
Ginny turned to address Harry again, but he was already reaching for the handle. He held the door open for Ginny, who tried to catch his eye as she went in – it was difficult, since he was staring at his shoes, but she didn't take it too personally. She wasn't perfectly comfortable being caught by her brother, either.
"Oh, hey, Ginny –" Neville tapped her shoulder and grinned at her. "I'm off. See you around."
"Bye," she said breathlessly, giving him a quick hug and turning back to find Harry – but before she could, her hand was grabbed by someone else.
"Where've you been?" Colin pulled her into an embrace. "We're leaving, and I hardly got to talk to you."
Behind him, Eloise was watching Ginny carefully. Ginny tried to smile at her. "Sorry," she said sincerely. "I'll come up to Diagon Alley and say hi, whenever I come to see my dad."
"And if you could get us an interview with him…" Colin winked, and Ginny gave an inattentive laugh. By the time she was finished with her goodbye to Eloise, Harry was halfway across the room, frowning absently at Hermione, who was talking at an alarming rate – about Malfoy, no doubt. They both headed towards the bar to Ron, who was still behind the counter, and soon enough, Ron began to gesture explosively while Hermione spoke. Ginny watched the three of them together, not sure what it was about their expressions that made her unable to cross the room and join the conversation. But sometimes – and she could always tell when – that trio was uninterruptible.
Slowly, she wandered back to the table where she'd eaten dinner, migrating naturally toward someone who, though she made Ginny wild with annoyance, also had the natural power to give her strength.
"Ginny, dear! Let me order you a pumpkin juice."
Ginny sank into a chair, realizing suddenly how tired she was, and how achy.
Her mother reached out and put a hand on her knee. "Or is it butterbeer now?" she asked, sighing. "I'm sure I'm underestimating your age again." She smiled, and patted Ginny's knee lovingly. "These are lovely dress robes. And to think I never thought of blue for you."
Ginny didn't answer. She scooted her chair closer to her mother's, and lay her head down on her shoulder. It was a gesture she hadn't voluntarily made since childhood.
"Tired?" Molly asked quietly, smoothing the hair back from Ginny's forehead. "Your hair's quite a mess, dear, you must've had nice time dancing."
Ginny nodded, wondering what her mother would think if she really knew.
"What a lovely wedding." Molly sighed again. "That horrible son of mine, not even letting me give him one. Not... that big weddings are necessary." She went very quiet, before beginning again briskly. "Did I tell you I've spotted a very nice girl here tonight who I think might be good for George? You and I ought to see what we can do about that." She kissed the top of Ginny's head and put her arm around her.
Ginny nestled a bit closer and, though she hadn't publicly done so in ages, she took her mother's hand. "Which girl is it then?" she mumbled, opening her eyes to watch the dancing couples
"Right there, with the - oh, with the baby. Well, that won't do. Still, let's find your brother." Before Ginny could tell her mother that George was outside, she had managed to get his twin's attention. "Fred?" Molly asked sharply, stopping him in his tracks as he danced by with Angelina.
"Yeah, Mum?" he asked, looking startled.
"Where is George?"
"George?" Fred repeated, his voice cracking.
"Yes, George," Molly replied, exasperated. "I think you know him."
Fred was crimson. He opened his mouth, shut it, and looked to Angelina, whose lips twisted in a mischievous grin.
"I think George is busy, Molly," she answered merrily, glancing at Fred again. "You know," she whispered, "Ron's been tending that bar for an awfully long time." The two of them burst out laughing, and Fred danced Angelina quickly out of earshot.
"Well, we'll get him later," Molly muttered, squeezing Ginny's shoulders. She hummed along with the music for a moment, and then made a sound of approval. "Harry's got so handsome," she murmured, in exactly the same voice she used to muse about all of her own children. She laughed softly. "And he's looking at you, dear."
Ginny's gaze fluttered to Harry at once, and her heart jumped. He was looking at her, and with the same sort of expression he'd had on earlier, just outside the door of the pub.
She found she was sitting up straight, no longer needing her mother for support. It was enough to look wordlessly at Harry, from across the room. Her mother's arm fell away. Harry did not break eye contact.
"I'll find George on my own," Molly said quietly. She patted Ginny's knee again, then stood up and walked away.
As soon as her mother's eyes were off them, Ginny let herself smile. Harry smiled back – with just his eyes and the corners of his mouth. He jerked his head in the direction of Ron, who had just been relieved by Madam Rosmerta at the bar and was lifting the counter to get back to the other side, and shrugged apologetically. Ginny shrugged back, then lifted her hands and tilted her head onto them as if they were a pillow, gesturing that she was tired, and wanted to go home. Harry raised his eyebrows at the door, silently asking if she wanted him to leave with her. She smiled, and shook her head, pointing discretely to Ron and Hermione, who were turning their attention back to him again. He sighed a little, and waved without lifting his hand very high. She mouthed 'goodnight'. His eyes lingered on her for a moment before he turned away.
Ginny sat unmoving, thrilled to discover that she had a language with Harry that could be used across a room, and amazed that he'd make a silent offer to leave with her, if she wanted him to, when he was talking to Ron and Hermione. She didn't want him to have to leave them. But he had offered.
Feeling warm and content, Ginny said her goodbyes to her mother and the bride. Without a word to anyone else, she slipped out of the Three Broomsticks, went to the twins' joke shop, and used their fireplace to go home.
