Chapter Forty-Three
The Finals
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A/N: Thank you, CoKerry and Firelocks, for staying up late to beta-read this. You are princess people. And thanks to Dr. Aicha for looking it over at the very end.
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Ginny stirred. Her eyes were closed, but she could tell that the room was
already bright - she had slept in, on a school day. She wasn't worried; she
had a feeling that after what had happened yesterday, Remus wouldn't be a
stickler about starting lessons on time, if he started them at all. He was
probably still sleeping too. Or, if he was awake, then he was probably trying
to comprehend what had happened.
Azkaban was gone.
Ginny felt a surge of powerful joy. She stretched completely, enjoying the languorous pull of aching muscles - enjoying the way her body hit up against Harry's in the bed, when she moved. She felt another surge of happiness when she rolled onto her side and found a comfortable place on his hot shoulder to rest her head. She smoothed a hand across his bare chest and left it there. She slung her leg across him.
He touched her hair.
"You're
awake," she mumbled.
Harry pushed his fingers further into her hair and rubbed her scalp in reply. It felt brilliant. It was brilliant, waking up beside Harry. Beside Harry, who didn't have to be anywhere. Who didn't have a duty in the world. Who was just hers, all day - and all night too, if she wanted.
She did want.
She curled tighter to him and kissed his shoulder… breathed in the solid warmth of him… grazed her fingertips back and forth over his chest… felt him shift closer to her and release a long, slow breath. She had wanted more, last night - and so had he - than either of them had had the energy to give. Harry hadn't even had the energy to be shy; he hadn't asked for permission to come over, or waited for an invitation. He had simply Apparated into her room in the middle of the night and crawled into bed beside her, giving her a delicious shock. His shirt had come off almost at once, and they had twined together and kissed in the darkness until they had been too deliriously tired to continue.
Ginny was so caught up in remembering the loveliness of it, so lost in her own happy energy, that it took her longer than usual to notice that Harry's was… not as happy. Not at all. His body was warm and radiant, but there was a faint, distant chill in the air around him.
Perturbed, Ginny lifted her head slightly and studied his face.
He was staring at the ceiling. He couldn't be looking at anything in particular - he didn't have his glasses on and there wasn't anything there to begin with. But he was staring with strange focus, and then, as if he didn't want to be noticed doing it, he closed his eyes and turned his face away.
"Harry?" Ginny asked, her voice croaky with sleep. She picked herself up a bit more and propped herself on her elbow. "Is everything all right?"
She could only make out the edge of his profile; she couldn't be sure of his expression. But she knew that something was bothering him very much, and that he was trying to keep her from noticing. He should have known that was impossible.
"What is it?" Ginny pressed. "What's wrong?"
Harry stayed silent. He took hold of the hand she had rested on his chest, and he rolled away from her, bringing her with him until she was spooned around his back, her arm around him, her hand in his, her leg still slung over his hip.
He wanted comfort.
Ginny nuzzled the back of Harry's neck, still shocked, in many ways, that she was allowed to do it. For years she had craved the right to hold him close to her heart and give them both this kind of relief, but it had seemed like a pipe dream for so long that she had almost learned to content herself with just the fantasy of Harry. She wondered if she would ever get used to the fact that he was with her this way, and that he wanted her like this, and that he needed her to ease him.
"Can't you tell me what you're thinking about?" she asked quietly. "Please, I want to know."
Harry shifted back against her. "It's morbid," he mumbled. "I don't know what's wrong with me."
"Nothing's wrong with you." Ginny found his heartbeat with her hand and lay her palm over it. His heart pulsed quickly in his chest. "You can tell me anything - I won't think you're strange. Whatever you're thinking, I've probably thought it myself."
Harry hesitated. "It's just… that girl. The Auror who died yesterday."
"Moody said her name was Leda Barnes."
Harry nodded. "I was having a nightmare about her," he said faintly. "She was… screaming for help. And if I'd just gone a little faster, I know I could have done something about it."
"You could have done something about it where?" Ginny asked. "In the dream? Or yesterday, at Azkaban?"
Harry shrugged and didn't answer, and Ginny knew that he was blaming himself. A vibration, cold and uncomfortable, was rising from his skin and taking shape all around him. It was something like a wall - close. Compact. Ginny stretched her hand over his heart and tried to brush the wall away, but it resisted. She could feel it pushing between their two bodies, trying to knock her back. She stayed where she was and didn't give it room to grow.
"You couldn't have helped her," Ginny said, as calmly as she could. "We all dove, we all tried, and we all failed. But it wasn't our fault, Harry. No one was expecting what happened."
"I know."
But that didn't change the fact that his energy wrestled against her, dark and desperate, wanting her gone. It wanted to expand and overwhelm him, to make him miserable without any interference. Ginny wasn't going to let it.
"You might know… but I don't think you really believe it," she said gently. "You think you're responsible. Don't you."
Harry didn't answer. He didn't have to. The air all around him was putting up a fight. This wasn't a conversation he wanted to have - he wanted to be left alone, didn't want her to try and strip his guilt away from him. He felt he deserved it. Felt it was his duty to live with it. And it was bigger than the death of one Auror - it was bigger than what had happened at Azkaban. It was an overwhelming sense of responsibility and it contained within it the burden of many lost lives, all of them sitting on Harry's shoulders, where he had squarely placed them.
"Who else is your fault?" Ginny asked suddenly. She knew it was a terrible question. She knew it had the potential to send him running. But she was certain he needed to answer it. "Who else do you think you could have saved, if you'd tried hard enough?"
Harry froze in her arms. He didn't even seem to be breathing. There was fear around him now, and despair, and grief, and she knew that, just at present, he was furious with her. Ginny worried that he was going to bolt - that he was going to push his way out of her bed and Disapparate and never come back.
He drew a jerky breath. "It's not something I can just list," he said savagely.
His anger wasn't really with her, but he was directing it at her in full force. Ginny tried not to take it personally, but it was difficult.
"I know that," she said. "And you don't have to answer if you don't want to - but I know something's really bothering you, and you shouldn't have to be this upset." She pressed her hand to his chest, feeling it collapse as he breathed out. "It doesn't make sense. I mean, you never have to fly another dragon, no one's ever going to be Kissed by a Dementor again, Sirius is going to be about a thousand times happier -"
"My mum and dad, for a start," Harry said abruptly.
Ginny blinked, and then realized that he was answering her question. She wanted to contradict him - to tell him that his parents' deaths hadn't been his fault at all, and that he'd only been a baby, and that he had to let that go. But she stayed quiet, rubbed the spot just over his heart with her fingertips, and listened.
"Cedric."
That's not your fault either.
"I know Dumbledore was protecting the whole school but I still think I should have been able to…"
No.
"They never would have hurt Hermione's parents if she wasn't a friend of mine."
Ginny knew it was true. But that still didn't make it his fault.
"Your brother," he said, very softly.
Ginny's heart gave a terrible throb. "That's not true," she whispered. She couldn't let that one go. "You can't blame yourself for Percy - you weren't even there, and it was Pettigrew who killed him."
"But I let Pettigrew live," said Harry, in a voice that sounded very far away. "You didn't know that, did you? Ask Ron. I had a chance to kill him - and I knew what he was - and I let him live. Think of everyone he killed after that. And I could have stopped it.."
Grief and compassion battled for first place in Ginny's heart. "That doesn't make you Percy's murderer," she finally managed. "It makes you merciful. If you knew what he did to your parents, and you still didn't retaliate, it only shows how good and noble -"
"I still wonder if Ron thinks about that," Harry cut in softly, as if he couldn't hear Ginny at all. "But I don't want to ask him."
Under her hand, to Ginny's great surprise, she felt Harry's chest give a funny jump. She closed her eyes and tried to sense what was happening to him.
"Ron loves you," she said gently, when she realized that he was close to tears. She wasn't certain what she would do if Harry really cried. The idea almost terrified her. "Ron wouldn't have wanted you to kill anyone."
"Ron never hesitated to do what he had to do. I did."
"No."
"And I wasn't noble when we left Hagrid, was I? I let him die."
Harry's chest hitched again, and Ginny held him closer to her. She wanted him to turn and face her, but she had a feeling it was easier for him this way, when he didn't have to look at her. She hadn't heard him mention Hagrid since last summer - she knew Hagrid's death had been the worst blow for Harry, in many ways.
"It was my fault."
Dark, swallowing grief swept around the two of them - along with guilt. Guilt that was brittle and ugly and unbearable. Ginny winced against it. It made the grief unclean. It separated her from feeling it fully - it kept her from understanding it.
"Hagrid was following me." Harry's voice was harsh and choked. "He was trying to look after me. After Dumbledore died, Hagrid barely let me out of his sight - not even to go to classes. He used to stand around outside Potions in case Malfoy had orders to try something, did you know that?"
Ginny did. But Harry wasn't looking for an answer.
"He acted like a bodyguard, and I tried to tell him -" Harry gave a hollow, awful sob. He tried to muffle it in the pillow, but didn't quite manage it.
Ginny's heart ached. She buried her face in the back of his neck to let him know that she was there, and close, and with him.
"I tried telling him to stop it - I told him I didn't want him hurt, but I never really tried to stop him, because I always felt better when he was around -"
Harry made another muffled noise of grief… the last of his resistance was slipping away… the cold vibrations rose away from his body and dissipated in the air around them both, leaving them in a flood of heat and anguish. Ginny felt herself pulled into the center of his powerful bitterness; she lay in it with him and felt it fully. It tore at her heart as she listened to him talk.
"He told me not to leave school grounds for any reason - he said I wasn't to risk myself no matter what, and I promised him I wouldn't. But it was Ron."
Ginny's stomach gave a horrible wrench. The choices Harry had been forced to make. So many of them were just unthinkable.
"I couldn't wait for the teachers to look for Ron after he was kidnapped - I couldn't wait five seconds. Even if I'd wanted to, Hermione wasn't going to, and I couldn't let her go alone." Harry shook his head. "I couldn't. And I knew Hagrid had made me promise always to tell him where I was going. But I broke that promise, because I was afraid he'd find a way to stop me. So we just left. And I keep telling myself that if I'd told Hagrid where I was going, he probably would have stopped me, and we might not have found Ron in time. But then again, if I'd only told him…" Harry drew a difficult breath. "He might have understood and let us go. He might not have followed us in there."
For a while, Harry seemed incapable of speech. His shoulders shook. Eventually he rolled onto his stomach and hid his face, and Ginny felt helpless to comfort him. She laid her hand on his heaving back and quietly stroked it, reminding him that he was not alone. She had never seen him like this. He might never have been like this. Perhaps he had cried before, privately, but it was just as likely that he hadn't. In fact… Ginny closed her eyes and felt a heave in his energy that seemed to come right from his spirit. And it did feel like the first time that it had ever experienced anything like this.
"I should've known he was watching me all the time." Harry's voice was almost lost in the pillow. "I should've known. But I wasn't thinking about him at all, I didn't even know he'd followed. I don't even know how he got into Malfoy Manor, I just remember looking down at Mrs. Lestrange on the ground, and suddenly Mr. Lestrange was pointing his wand at me, and Crabbe and Goyle had theirs on Ron and Hermione - and then before I knew what had happened, Hagrid was in front of all of us."
Ginny could imagine it. Hagrid - warm, beautiful, wonderful Hagrid, who filled whole rooms and was the only one big enough to block three people.
"He told us to run, and we did," Harry went on, sounding almost frantic. "But how could we?" Harry gave an unmistakable sob. "I only wanted to get Ron out of there, it was all I cared about, it was the only thought in my head, and Hagrid was supposed to be right behind us. He said he was right behind us - the door was right there. But then there was - green light -"
Even in the heat of Harry's grief, Ginny was freezing cold.
"And I wanted to go back - I tried - but Ron and Hermione wouldn't let me go, they had me by the arms - but I could have broken free, I know it. I should have helped him -"
"You couldn't have helped him," Ginny said, very faintly. "If you saw green light, then it was too late."
"But I left him there to die."
"Oh, Harry, no. No, no." Her eyes stinging, Ginny sat up and ran both hands over his trembling back. "You've never left anyone to die. Hagrid chose to help you. He would have followed you either way. You couldn't have stopped him, because he cared about you too much."
"I know he d-did -"
Ginny's chest hurt. Her eyes were flooding. She couldn't believe that Harry was allowing himself to be so vulnerable.
"He was the f-first one who ever did - after my parents -" But Harry could speak no more. He flung both arms up onto the pillow, crossed them under his face, and sobbed right into them.
"Come here," Ginny said faintly. Her eyes had blurred completely, but she groped for Harry - she lay on her back and tried to pull him towards her. He let her do it, shifting until his body was slumped half on top of hers and he was grasping her shoulders, his face buried in her chest. Ginny cradled the back of his head and rubbed his back, and he wept into the front of her summer nightdress, soaking the thin cotton and her skin. He had come apart. He was beyond himself.
Ginny didn't know how long she held him. She wasn't sure how long he cried. She cried a little too, and rocked him when it got worse, and ran her fingers through his hair and mumbled any words she thought might help him.
When his tears finally shuddered to a halt, Harry sniffled against her. He was quiet for several minutes, and then, very slowly, he drew back and rolled off of her, onto his elbow.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled.
"Don't be."
He gingerly touched the front of her nightdress, which was wet through.
"I don't care about that," Ginny said, covering his hand with hers and keeping it there.
Harry looked down at her. She knew he couldn't see her very well, but his eyes scanned her face anyway.
"Hagrid told me I was a wizard," he said softly. "He took me away from the Dursleys and brought me to Diagon Alley to get all my school things. It was the first time I ever saw… any of it." Harry sniffed. "And he bought me Hedwig. For my birthday." Harry sounded somewhat amazed, as though he still couldn't believe the first friendship he had been shown. "Did you ever know that?"
Overcome with tenderness, Ginny reached up for his face and brought it down to hers, so that she could kiss his very damp cheek. She tasted salt and skin.
"No," she said.
"He's the one who told me about my parents," Harry said, still quiet. "Told me who I was. Sort of." He gave a funny little smile. "No one ever really told me for years." He gazed at the pillow, and then he sighed, dropped back down and rested his face against her neck. "I feel strange," he mumbled, and the words were soft against her skin. "It's… good and bad."
Ginny longed to tell him that he felt strange because he was mourning Hagrid for the first time, instead of bottling his grief inside of ugly guilt. She knew, because she had only just begun to mourn Percy at Christmas - her own grief had been trapped in something numb and uncomprehending. She knew that when it finally hit, it was both more painful and less horrible.
But the words were unimportant. He felt it; that was what mattered. Ginny had the sense that Harry had come to the beginning of a very long and difficult road, and that he was afraid of it - but that he was willing to walk it. And she knew that he would find his way, because she would walk it with him and make sure.
Harry lay curled against her for a long time, and Ginny held onto him. The sun grew brighter every minute, and the bedroom became almost uncomfortably warm. Harry eventually kicked off the covers, which was a relief - except that the rush of air reminded Ginny that her nightdress was very short and had obviously ridden up.
Harry's energy made a very sudden shift - he lifted up on his arms and dropped down again, but now his body was fully on top of hers. Ginny let out a low, involuntary sound of satisfaction at the pleasure of being pinned by his weight. As if in reply, Harry made a noise of want, and his mouth was so near Ginny's ear that the noise echoed in her head. It stirred something in her that made her forget that she was fairly new to all of this, and that she still felt a bit bashful with him. She bent her knee and softly dragged her toes up the outside of his leg.
Harry sucked in a breath. His hand found the outside of her thigh and he grasped it, making Ginny feel dizzy.
Yes.
"Do you - have lessons today?" he managed.
"I think so," she whispered, arching a little beneath him when he dragged his fingertips down to the outside of her knee and back up again. "But I'm not sure - It depends - on Remus -"
Harry was kissing the very sensitive skin just below her ear. "When will you be finished for the day?" he mumbled.
She knew what the real question was. A brilliant, terrified thrill shot through her. He was going to take her up on yesterday's invitation - Ginny could hardly believe she'd said those things right in his ear. She wondered what sort of girl that made her, then realized she didn't care, because it had worked, and Harry certainly didn't seem to mind, and they were going to be alone together in the way she desperately wanted to be alone with him.
"What are you doing today?" she asked, trying to keep the tremble out of her voice.
Harry's hand felt its way up over her hip to her waist. He gave it a squeeze. "Waiting for you," he said, his voice barely audible.
Ginny closed her eyes and felt for his shoulders as he began to kiss along her jaw, working his way from one ear to the other. Every soft press of his mouth sent a deep, perfect jolt straight through her. It was so hard to believe that he was kissing her like this. Hard to believe that Harry was paying her such total, intimate attention - it was too heady a rush. It was too much to absorb. She threw back her head and slid her hands down his bare back, making him press closer to her. She hardly even heard the soft pop! that sounded across the room, near the door.
She did, however, hear the shocked gasp that followed it, and then a second pop!
She and Harry froze together and held their breath. There was obviously no one in the room now… but there had been. And they both knew it.
"Was…" Harry's voice was faint with horror. "Was that Hermione?"
"I didn't see," Ginny whispered.
"But…"
Ginny nodded her head beside his, and wondered why she wasn't more embarrassed. "Probably. It sounded like her."
Harry groaned, rolled off of her, and sat up. "Oh no -"
"Harry, it's not a big deal," Ginny said comfortingly, sitting up beside him. "It was only a second. And you said you walked in on them the other day -"
"Yeah, but not like this." Harry sat up and blinked around, very red in the face. "At least they had all their clothes on - where are my glasses?"
Ginny got them from the bedside table and handed them to him. He slid them onto his nose and his eyes came into focus, fully mortified.
"I'm really sorry," he said.
"Don't be," Ginny answered for the second time that morning. She smoothed his hair, which was completely out of control, and leaned over to kiss him quickly on the mouth. "It's not like she doesn't know… you know. What goes on."
Harry went even redder, but he nodded.
"You'll… still come by tonight, won't you?"
Harry's eyebrows shot up. "Of course," he said, as if there were certain things one simply didn't give up, no matter the consequences. Ginny was pleased to know that she was one of them. "But you never said what time you'd be finished."
Ginny squinted at the clock. It was nearly eleven. "I don't know - six-ish?" she said. "Is that all right?"
"Yeah, that's great."
They looked at each other, both recognizing that something profound had just been rather casually arranged, and then Harry reached out and traced his fingertips down the side of Ginny's face.
She closed her eyes and leaned her cheek into his hand.
"You're…" Harry softly cleared his throat. "You're so lovely," he said, and his voice was still hoarse. "Really."
The words shivered through her as deeply as any touch - he'd never told her that before. She opened her eyes to see his face, but was struck suddenly very shy and had to look away over his shoulder.
"Thank you," she managed.
"See you at six, then."
"Yes."
Harry's fingers reluctantly slipped from her face; he got out of her bed and picked up his wand.
"See you," he repeated, and then, very awkwardly - "Should I - I don't know - bring anything?" He blushed as soon as the words were out and looked like he wanted to throw himself off a very high broomstick.
"Just you," Ginny whispered. She could take care of the rest of it on her own.
Harry looked slightly less suicidal. "All right," he said, sounding relieved. "Bye."
"Bye."
He Disapparated, leaving Ginny in her bed to hug herself and imagine… unimaginable things.
A soft knock at the door interrupted her fantasies, but she didn't mind. They wouldn't be fantasies for long. "Come in," Ginny called, and flicked her wand in the direction of the door, unlocking it.
Hermione came into the room looking very apologetic. She fidgeted in the doorway for a moment as if not sure whether to admit what she had seen.
"We know you were here," Ginny said, laughing. "Try not to make such a noise next time."
"I'm so sorry!" Hermione exclaimed, pink-faced, putting her hands to her cheeks for a moment, and then waving them about. "I just assumed - I mean, it was eleven - I thought you'd have class, and I'd been up for hours, and I just wanted to get some clothes and…" Her voice trailed off and she glanced briefly at Ginny's legs, which were only very barely covered. She pinkened again, looked away, and reached out to close the door behind her. "I'm really sorry," she repeated. "I… hope I didn't interrupt…"
"We weren't," Ginny said quickly. "We haven't yet."
Whole sentences and specific words were apparently unnecessary. Hermione looked very relieved, and then she peered at Ginny as if she didn't quite believe her. "Haven't you?" she asked keenly.
"No."
"Oh."
Ginny felt suddenly flustered. "Why, do I seem like I have, or something?"
Hermione shrugged. She studied Ginny closely. "You seem…" She shrugged again. "You're looking very…" Her eyes flitted over Ginny's tousled, half-dressed state. "I don't know, I suppose I was just very total about it."
"Total?" Ginny frowned.
"Yes. I hardly let Ron do… well… anything. Before we did everything. Except once, but that doesn't count, because I was leaving and it was very emotional."
Ginny stared at Hermione. "Doesn't count?" she repeated.
"Well, you know what I mean." Hermione went to her dresser, started taking clothes out of it, and piled them up on a chair.
Ginny wasn't sure she knew what Hermione was talking about. But she was willing to survive without the details of Ron's private life, though it didn't seem quite fair that it had to be Ron, really. Hermione was the only girl she could talk to about any of this. Perhaps if she really tried, Ginny thought, she could forget it was her brother on the other end of everything Hermione was saying.
"Hermione?"
"Hm." Hermione was holding up a soft green, long-sleeved T-shirt with white dragons embossed on the arms. "I never wear this," she mused. "I don't even know where I got this - do you want it?"
Ginny had always liked that top. "Yeah - thanks," she said, and Hermione tossed it onto Ginny's dresser. "But… Hermione?"
"Mm-hmm?"
"What's it… like?"
Hermione paused in the middle of folding a pair of jeans, and looked over at Ginny as if she didn't know what to say. "I…" she began. "It's…"
Ginny decided to narrow it down. "Is there anything I should know?"
Hermione peered closely at her again. She opened her mouth as if she wanted to ask something, then shook her head and went back to folding. "It's none of my business," she muttered, a little too loudly.
"No, say what you were going to say."
Hermione threw the jeans in the pile and turned on Ginny with her hands on her hips. "Well, I know you're in love with him, so I'm not going to bother asking if you're ready," she said. "But do you know the proper charms?"
"Prevention charms, you mean?"
"Yes."
Ginny laughed. "Of course, my mum taught me - she made sure I knew them all. Which is funny, when you think about it."
Hermione's pressed her lips closed on a smile.
"No, go on. It's funny. I mean - seven of us, it's not like she took her own advice, is it?"
Hermione giggled. "Remember when she told us how she tried that love charm?"
"Yes - did you ever try it?"
"No! Of course not." Hermione tilted her head. "Did you?"
"I was going to," Ginny admitted. "But I was afraid it would work, and then I'd have to spend my whole life knowing that Harry didn't really love me, and it was just a charm."
"Oh, Ginny." Hermione looked fondly at her. "Are you… About Harry… I mean, I know you two must have decided…"
"Just don't come in here tonight," Ginny said, cutting short the rest of Hermione's awkward question. "Or tomorrow morning. Get everything you need. And don't come into Harry's room at the Notch, either, because I don't know what's going to happen - and don't let Ron come looking for either of us, please. Unless it's literally life or death, and even then, just stay out."
Hermione laughed. "Okay," she said. "It's so… strange."
"What is?"
"I don't know. Thinking of Harry. I know it's the same for you about Ron. And it's just a shame, because I don't really have anyone else to talk to about this sort of thing and perhaps it's not really ladylike to discuss it, but sometimes I just want to see if you've done the same… I don't know."
Ginny knew. "I was just thinking the same thing," she said honestly. "I was thinking I could try to forget it was Ron, if you wanted to tell me anything."
"Really?" Hermione's eyes lit up as though Ginny had just suggested they work on an Arithmancy project together. "Well… what are you doing today? I'm going to visit my parents, but they're in therapy until three, so I'm free until then. Do you have school?"
"I don't know. I need to ask Remus."
"He's not even awake. Do you need to study for your N.E.W.T.s?"
"Yes… but I've been good about that, I can skive off."
Hermione frowned at her, but then her eyes lit up again. "Oh, do you know what we should do!"
"What?"
"Remember that magazine with the quiz? We never did it all the way through, did we? Did you keep it?"
Ginny thought she had, somewhere. She flicked her wand and Summoned it, and it came flying out from underneath her bed, sending balls of dust in every direction.
"Let's both take it," Hermione said, grabbing it out of the air and fairly jumping onto her own bed. "And let's do our nails like last time, while we're at it. Mine look horrible."
Nails. Ginny hadn't even thought about them. And her hair, and… everything. She wanted to be perfect, and she had hours. She knew it didn't really matter how her nails looked… but it would be one less thing to worry about. Not that she was worried. She wondered why she wasn't.
"Hermione?"
"Yes?"
"Were you nervous?"
"Yes. That's normal."
So then she wasn't normal. But neither was Harry. And what they had together wasn't normal either, she thought, as her heart throbbed twice at once at the memory of what his skin felt like under her hands. What they had was tremendously rare.
"Number one," Hermione said, and then she laughed. "No. Number nine. Have you ever…"
And Hermione asked a question that made Ginny blush to the roots of her hair before she gave her shaky answer.
"Er… not… yet… "
Perhaps she was a little nervous, after all.
~*~
Harry arrived at Lupin Lodge at six o'clock. He had showered. He was terrified. He had told himself all day that he was probably assuming too much, and that what she wanted was probably very different from what he was thinking, and that there was no reason for him to work himself up like this - but it was no use. He couldn't get Ginny out of his head. Hanging around Ron, to whom he could say nothing, had been far too difficult, and so he had finally gone up to the dragon camp and tried to help Charlie and Mick disassemble some of the tents. They had told him he was insane, and refused to allow him to do anything. But they hadn't realized that he wasn't doing it out of the goodness of his heart - he needed something to do.
Harry had finally ended up at the Ministry, where he had turned in his badge and had an extremely uncomfortable couple of minutes alone with Mr. Weasley, who surely knew everything. Who had probably been able to tell, somehow. Harry could have sworn that Ginny's dad had given him more than one all-too-perceptive sort of look. He had nearly run from the office at his first opportunity.
He was being an idiot.
There were very few lights on in Lupin Lodge. Harry found Remus sitting alone in the front room, with a book in one hand and a teacup in the other.
"Would you like a cup of tea, Harry?" Remus asked, when he saw him there.
Harry would very much have liked one. It would have calmed his nerves. "Er - no thanks," he said. "Have you seen Ginny?"
He could have sworn that Remus smirked.
"She said she was going for a walk," Remus answered. "And then she went out back to the garden. I think she may be checking on her Herbology plot - have you seen it? I don't think she'll have a problem earning that N.E.W.T."
"No, I haven't," said Harry. "I'll go and have a look." He wheeled around and nearly dashed out the back door, and as he shut the door behind him, he knew that he had heard Remus laugh.
The late-afternoon light was wonderful, coppery-gold; it lit the garden in a range of amber hues, making everything shine. Harry looked around at the different herbs and flowers, and dimly realized just how much work Ginny had done this year, all on her own. He'd had a whole class full of people to help him study, in his seventh year, and she'd only had herself to rely on. Yet she had done a beautiful job - at least with Herbology. And with… other things.
"Harry!"
He looked left and saw her, standing at the edge of the garden among all the growing things, looking radiant in the golden light. She'd left her hair down. He liked it.
Harry walked over to her and extended his hand. Ginny slipped hers into it. They stood for a moment, still and quiet, just looking at each other.
It was… strange. Just looking. Harry felt almost as though he shouldn't have been allowed to look for quite so long. There should have been some excuse for it. He was used to glancing at her when she wasn't watching, and then looking away when she caught him. But this was different. This was… open.
"Did you do this whole garden on your own?" he asked, and was surprised by how low his voice was.
"Oh no. Remus did more than half."
"Well it all looks brilliant."
Ginny beamed. "I worked on it a bit today," she said. "I should really be spending more time on Arithmancy than on this, but I know I'm never going to get that N.E.W.T." She sighed. "I'll be lucky if I get five, honestly."
"I bet you get nine."
"Why, how many did you get?"
"Nine."
Ginny smiled a little and squeezed his hand. "Nine would be good," she said. "Do you want to have a walk with me?"
Harry wanted to have a lot of things with her. He nodded, and she led him off down the path, away from the garden and towards the woods.
"Isn't this beautiful?" Ginny asked quietly, as they walked in among the tall trees. Great shafts of orange light came down between them, dappling the ground and shadowing them both in light and darkness. "I love it back here."
"I haven't come back here that often, to be honest," Harry said, looking around. It was beautiful.
Ginny looked around with reverent eyes. "I've never seen it like this," she said. "This is my favorite time of day. My favorite light."
Harry wasn't sure why he liked it so much that she had a favorite light. But he did.
They walked a little further down the path, listening to the creatures of the forest, which sounded, for the most part, to be friendly.
"What did you do today?" Ginny asked, stepping carefully over a little stream.
Harry followed, equally careful. "I turned in my badge. I'm not a Ministry employee anymore." He got his footing again and was surprised to be pulled immediately into a tight, possessive hug.
"Good," Ginny whispered.
He closed his eyes and held her just as tightly. It was good. It was over. He had never been so thoroughly uplifted - it was all beyond him. He was in the woods, in Ginny's arms, and he had no responsibility. Even if another one came his way tomorrow - and it wouldn't have surprised him - for tonight there was only this. Only her.
He wondered what she really thought of him crying all over the place. He still couldn't believe he had done it. He tried to push it out of his memory.
"What's wrong?" she mumbled.
Damn.
"Nothing?" he tried, but he knew it wouldn't work.
Ginny pulled away and gazed at him, her eyes full of affection. "All right, Harry," she said quietly. "Only tell me if you want to. I won't sense." She took his hand again and Harry rubbed his thumb over the back of it.
"What are you going to do, now that you're finished with school?" he asked.
"Oh… everything." Ginny laughed. "There are a lot of things that need doing."
Harry nodded. "What first, then?"
"First I want to spend time with Neville's parents," she said unhesitatingly. "I want to see what I can do for them."
Harry pulled a hanging branch out of Ginny's way, and gently guided her forward. Together, they continued to walk, as the golden light around them began to fade.
"It doesn't last long, does it?" Harry mused aloud, looking around.
"No." Ginny looked up. "But that's part of what makes it so beautiful. It's sort of… fragile. You can't keep it for long."
"I don't think that makes it beautiful," Harry said without thinking. "It makes it sad. It's not right that you can't keep it."
Ginny looked over at him. And then she picked up his hand and surprised him by kissing it. "It always comes back tomorrow, Harry," she said, very gently. "It's not gone forever."
Harry wasn't sure what they were really talking about.
They came to the edge of the wood, where a stretch of long, soft-looking grassy banks spread towards the shore of the small lake. Sunset light shimmered on the water, made fires in the crags of rocks, and illuminated snakes of sand. Harry looked out into the reddening sky, where the sun was setting beyond the trees on the other side of the lake. He took a deep breath.
"Look," Ginny murmured. "Look at the moon." It had already risen, half-full. It hung halfway up in the burning sky, over the lake that reflected all the golds and reds of the setting sun. So did Ginny's face, which was tilted up and caught the light. "It's a Gryffindor sunset, isn't it?" she asked.
"Definitely," Harry said absently. He wasn't looking at it anymore. His eyes followed the contours of her lips, and the way they picked up the ruddy light. "Definitely," he said again, and turned her towards him by her hand.
Ginny looked right into his face as he touched her shoulders. He moved his hands up and down her arms a few times, feeling something soft and scratchy on the fabric of her shirt. He looked down at what it was and saw that there were dragons on her sleeves.
"That's cool," Harry said, running a fingertip down her arm, along the spiky spine of one long dragon. "Glad I don't have to ride one anymore, though."
Ginny laughed. She had a really good laugh. He didn't really know why she thought he was funny, but he was pleased that she did. He pulled her towards him, rested his forehead against hers, and shut his eyes "Do you want to turn around and walk back?" he asked, after awhile.
"Not really. You?"
"No."
Ginny pulled away and looked right at him again, and there was something in her eyes that drove a spike of heat straight through Harry, making him sweat.
Without taking her eyes off him, Ginny dropped down to sit in the grass. She tugged Harry's trouser leg. "Sit with me."
He did, arranging himself just behind her so that she could sit between his legs and lean back against him. Harry held her around the middle and brushed her hair back towards him. He then carefully put all of her hair over the front of her right shoulder, and rested his chin on her left.
"Harry?"
"Hmm?"
"Do you really think I'm lovely?"
Harry blinked. Didn't she know she was? "Yes."
She was quiet for a minute. "Harry?"
"Mm-hmm?"
"I love you."
Harry's heart stopped. A buzzing warmth began in his eardrums; it spread through his head and down his neck. His stomach tightened. Would he ever get used to hearing it? Would it ever lose its impact? He didn't think so.
"You knew I… talked about you all the time, when we were little," she said softly. "My brothers told you. I'm sure Riddle told you too - or didn't he? I've always wondered."
Harry worked his mouth and tried to unstick his throat. He was very glad not to have to look at her face. "Yes. He did."
"He said he would." She was very quiet for a time. "You thought I was just star struck by you, didn't you?"
Harry thought about it. Had he thought her star struck? No… it had been something else entirely. He'd known that she was taken with him; that much had been clear. But he had never equated her with the people who had stopped him in the street or stared at his scar. She had watched him in a different way; it had given him a different feeling. It had never been uncomfortable. Perhaps a bit strange at first… but in a nice way.
"Never mind answering; I know you did. And I was star struck, a little." Ginny's voice was soft and clear. "I think I still am. Sometimes I catch myself staring at your forehead and thinking no, he didn't do those things, that's all too much for one person."
The tightness in Harry's stomach moved up into his chest as Ginny settled back into him. She rested her forearms on his thighs and dangled her hands on his knees.
"You're so real, Harry."
Ginny's stomach rose and fell under Harry's hands and he watched the sliver of her profile that he could see, lit by the moon.
"This was never Empathy."
He blinked hard and rested his forehead on her shoulder. The tightness was in his throat now. He didn't want to cry again - once in a day was enough. Once in a lifetime was enough.
"I'll tell you how I'm sure," Ginny went on. "It wasn't really fair of me to get so angry with you for asking when I wondered too, at first." She rubbed his knees. "First, I know what woke me up. My gift, I mean. Riddle's diary did it."
Harry nodded a little against her shoulder.
"But I noticed you before that, Harry. I couldn't get you out of my head from the second I saw you at platform nine and three-quarters. Ron wasn't lying when he said I never shut up about you all summer. And he only heard it for the summer - I'd been tormenting Mum all year, asking questions and making up story futures for us and…" Her hands stopped moving in his knees and heat radiated from her neck. "I'm saying far too much," she mumbled.
"No you're not." Harry tightened his arms around her. She was saying what he had needed to hear, and he had needed to hear it all year and all his life. No one had ever told him exactly how they loved him before.
"Well then, the other thing was Expecto Sacrificum," Ginny laughed and her back moved against him; Harry lifted his head and stole another look at her profile. "I told you I loved you in front of all those people. That was so hard." She put her hands over his and held them to her. "And that spell never would've worked if I hadn't meant it. I thought you'd work that out, but you didn't - and then you made me so angry - I couldn't believe you thought I'd go with Malfoy -"
"I never thought that," Harry interrupted.
Ginny turned her face so that her cheek leaned on his chest, and craned her neck to look up at him. "You didn't?"
He shook his head. "Not really."
She held his gaze for a minute. "You have the best eyes."
The buzzing started up again in Harry's head, hotter and louder this time. He couldn't believe she was saying all this. He didn't know how she just… said this stuff.
"And I really do think you're brilliant. You were brilliant yesterday."
"So were you." Harry paused. "And I wasn't any better than anyone else - it was Adam who really took the risk, in the end."
Ginny sighed inaudibly; he only felt the swell of breath beneath his hands. "What does that matter?" she asked. "Do you think I'm looking for you to be better than everyone?" She turned a little and looked at him. "You're finished with all that, Harry - you've proved yourself - you're the most amazing man -" She stopped. She looked a little embarrassed, as though she thought she'd got too carried away again.
But Harry wanted her to go on. He wrapped his arms tighter around her.
"And you're so modest," she blurted. "It only makes you greater. You could be such a git - you could brag and strut about, and you'd be well within your rights, but you don't - and you don't have to, because it's so clear what you are, it speaks for itself - you have no idea what that does to me -" She stopped again, and blushed, and turned away.
Harry knew his face was red too, but he had to hear the rest of this ramble. It was too good. He remembered Ron once telling him that Ginny hadn't shut up about him all summer, but Harry had never known exactly what kinds of things she'd said. He wanted to hear it all, uncensored. "What… does it… do to you?" he managed.
Ginny laughed a little. "I don't know - it's just the way you…"
"What?" he asked again, in a very quiet voice.
"I don't know." She shifted uncomfortably in his arms, and rocked forward a little, away from him.
She was upset. He wasn't sure why. "What's wrong?" he asked.
She jumped, and turned to give him a very wary look. "How did you know something was?" she demanded.
Harry couldn't stop a grin. "I just know you," he said, happy to have got it right. "Go on - tell me what's wrong."
She looked deeply unsettled. "I'm worried you're going to think I'm stupid if I keep this up," she said. "I don't want to go on gushing like this and have you think I'm some silly little girl."
Harry's eyebrows shot up. "I could never think you're stupid," he said honestly. "And I want you to tell me all this stuff."
Ginny didn't look convinced. She turned away again and looked out at the lake. The sun had set, and the sky had gone purple; Harry looked up and followed the pattern of the evening's first stars. It was a beautiful night.
"When I was little," Ginny said, so faintly that Harry had to lean forward to hear her, "everyone teased me about you. Except you. You were kind."
Harry was very grateful to his younger self for not making any stupid moves on that score.
"I thought you were…" She shook her head. "Perfect. I remember sitting in corners, watching you do things."
What things? Harry wanted to ask.
"Anything," Ginny answered. "It didn't matter. You'd unfold your napkin or open a book and I'd think, no one could look more wonderful doing that, no one could look more brave."
Harry tried to picture himself bravely opening a book. It wasn't much of an image.
"And you didn't seem to realize how brilliant you were. You were so quiet and polite. Like you weren't a hero at all, which only made you more of one. You were Harry Potter, but you weren't at all - you were just this handsome boy who came to my house one summer in clothes worse than mine, and ran round with my brothers, and flew my dad's car into a tree…" Ginny's voice trailed away. "See?" she said, shaking her head. "Listen to me, I'm so childish -"
"No, you're not," Harry cut in quickly, feeling dazed. "Did you… did you really think I was handsome when we were that young?"
Ginny glanced back at him, still looking uncertain. "I've always thought you were gorgeous," she said.
Harry knew he was no such thing. "No I'm not," he said slowly. "Especially not then - I was skinny and I… I still have these glasses -"
"I love your glasses," Ginny burst out vehemently, and even in the moonlight, she turned quite red.
Now Harry was completely lost. "Why?" he asked.
"I don't know!" Ginny sounded just as lost. But she was turning to face him now, and he tucked one of his legs back to give her more room. "I can't explain it - they're just - they're yours. And I like the way they make you look, they're - they're really - they're -" She seemed to be struggling. "Sexy," she finally mumbled, and now she was so scarlet that she radiated heat.
Harry was floored. "Really?" His voice cracked on the word.
Ginny could only nod. She sat back on her heels and looked down at her knees.
"Well so -" Harry stammered. "So are you. I mean - your hair and - your - everything."
She looked up at him, clearly shocked. "Am I?" she whispered.
"Oh yeah."
They gazed at each other, both flushed and self-conscious, Ginny's hair slipping forward along her cheek and her eyes following a path to his mouth until Harry couldn't stand it for another second. It was like watching a Snitch flutter past and not reaching out to grab it.
He dove.
Ginny made a high-pitched noise that was somewhere between pain and pleasure, and Harry wasn't sure what he'd done until they both thudded into the soft grass and she fell on her back beneath him with a gasp. He'd practically attacked her. He wondered if he should stop. But she didn't seem to care - she wrapped her arms around him and threw back her head as he kissed her feverishly all over her face. He didn't know what he was doing. He had lost his mind.
"Harry -" she managed, in a voice that made him love the sound of his name. He wanted to hear it again. "Yes -"
Harry could hear the unstable breaths she was taking, and he didn't miss the sniffle that followed them.
"Is this happening?" she mumbled, so faintly that he almost couldn't understand her.
"Yes," he gasped, though he could hardly believe it. He slammed his mouth to hers and she shouted into him. It felt like victory. It felt like triumph. Was this happening? Was this going to happen? She'd said, at Christmas, that she wanted to wait. Had they waited?
And could they really do this here?
Harry paused, panting, and tried to pull back.
"No," Ginny said breathlessly, taking his face in her hands and reaching up her chin to kiss him again. "Please, Harry -"
He kissed her back, long and hard, and then he pulled away again and held himself up on his hands, staring down at her and trying to talk himself out of what he wanted. They couldn't possibly do this here. Even though the night was cool and comfortable, and she was beautiful in it, staring up at him from her bed of grass, her mouth wet, her eyes glazed and full of starlight. Even though he knew he'd go insane if he ignored the thudding in his body for one more second. She was amazing. She wouldn't want this - not here, like this. She was too good for him. She deserved romance. And furniture.
"Should we go inside?" he rasped.
She shook her head.
"Are you sure?" his voice cracked again. "You really want to stay out here? You're not cold, you wouldn't rather -"
"I'm fine," she said, her voice strangely soft. "But we could go back to the Notch or Lupin Lodge, and charm the walls if you'd rather. "
Harry tried to imagine touching her and knowing that Remus was somewhere in the house. Or Ron. He shook his head.
Ginny pulled her wand. Without even sitting up, she held her arm out to the side, swished and flicked.
"Appara Vestis!"
Harry watched in a kind of half-shock as a dark green quilt appeared on the ground beside them. He recognized it from the linen cupboard at Lupin Lodge. He looked slowly back down at Ginny, who tossed her wand into the grass and looked up at him, breathing hard.
"Is that all right?" she said. But her voice was shaking. "Can we stay here? I want to stay here."
Harry nodded. He got to his knees and helped her move over to the blanket. And when he laid her down this time, he did it… gently. She was trembling all over.
Or perhaps it was him.
"I'm nervous," she whispered, when he stretched out beside her. "Are you?"
Harry wasn't sure he was supposed to admit it. But he nodded.
"Kiss me?" she whispered.
Harry did, with all the love he felt. He murmured her name and she sniffled again and brushed the backs of her fingers down the side of his face.
For a long time, there was no talking between them. And then there was nothing between them at all, and Harry paused, unable to believe that she could really look at all of him and still agree to take him as he was, pale and skinny and flawed, and be with him like this.
"You're sure?" he asked, very quietly.
Ginny said nothing. Instead, she slowly reached up her hand - hesitated for a moment - then did something he couldn't have anticipated. She twined her fingers into his hair, pulled his forehead to her mouth, and gently - gently - kissed his scar.
"You are the only man," she whispered, "that I am ever, ever going to love."
It wasn't long before the world as Harry knew it ceased to exist.
~*~
Ron had never been unable to eat his mother's cooking before. She had made all of his favorites, along with everyone else's, but the fried chicken tasted like a corned beef sandwich and he almost gagged trying to get it down. Finally, he threw half a drumstick on the plate in frustration, and looked around at everyone.
"How can you all just sit there and… eat?" he demanded.
Fred stood up. "This better?"
Everyone else laughed, but Ron only scowled; this was nothing to joke about. He excused himself from the table and paced maniacally around the garden of the Burrow. A gnome, smelling the garden banquet, stuck its ugly head out of the ground, and Ron picked it up and threw it so hard over the hedge that Adam and all the other children cheered.
"Maybe you should just go over there now and volunteer to be a Chaser, Ron," said Charlie.
"Ha ha," said Ron. Charlie had certainly been a lot happier these past few weeks. He wasn't going to be returning to Romania. He and Cho Chang were looking very cozy together, and whenever Charlie talked about his newest mad idea - running a stable for abandoned dragons off the coast of Wales, near Culparrat - Cho joined in the conversation as though it were understood that she was going with him.
"Ron, you've hardly touched your dinner," his mother rebuked. "And I'll thank you to remember that this lunch is not about the Chudley Cannons, it's about your father's re-election. Now, show him some respect and finish your chicken."
"It's Poultry Respectfulness Day, Ron," said George.
"Yeah," said Fred. "By the order of the Minister."
Everyone except Ron laughed again, and his father motioned for him to take his seat.
"I understand how you feel, son," he said. "You're going to need your energy to cheer on the Cannons - but if you're not going to eat that, give it here."
Ron passed his father the uneaten drumstick and sat down again next to Hermione, who was wearing his old Cannons shirt. At least she loved him. He hadn't even had to ask her to wear it. She had just understood that certain things were important - but then, she had always been a clever girl.
"I can't believe Bill's in France," Adam complained. He was also picking at his dinner. "Missing this. Couldn't he wait a few more days?"
Ron wholeheartedly agreed that his eldest brother was completely mad. "He's the one who gave me my first Cannons poster," he told Adam. "I assumed he'd understand what a moment this is in the history of the team - no one understands -"
Hermione slipped her arm around him. "I understand, Ron," she said.
Ron pulled her closer and narrowly glanced at Harry, who professed to be a Cannons fan, and yet had turned down a spot on the team and was now on his third piece of roast beef.
"I understand that you're insane," Hermione added after a moment. Harry snickered.
Ron shrugged Hermione away from him and crossed his arms. Fiancée or not, she was in the doghouse until she did some serious cheering for the Cannons - they all were.
At least they were dressed for it, though, Ron thought, looking around the table. His father was wearing a modest Chudley Cannons sash across his robes - "Because I shouldn't really show favoritism, Ron." His mother wore black robes with orange sleeves that she'd stitched on that morning. Everyone else was wearing either Cannons T-shirts or orange hats, except Angelina, who was wearing her Montrose Magpies shirt and didn't seem to care if it was wrong.
"They're not playing the Magpies," she said, waving a dismissive hand. "It's not like I'm cheering for the enemy."
"It doesn't matter," Fred said, holding out his spare Cannons shirt. "You'll be happier if you wear this, trust me."
Angelina shook her head. "No, I'm dressed, thanks. And I think you're taking this a bit seriously -"
Ron gave a cry of pure frustration, and Leo, who had been rocking back and forth in mid-air and sleeping peacefully, woke up and started wailing.
"Sorry," Ron muttered, when both Penelope and his mother shot him looks.
"Ron, it's two hours till the match," Ginny said, looking at her watch. "Just go if you're so eager to be there, and stop annoying every - OW!"
Ron had leaned back, reached out a long arm and snapped Ginny hard on the shoulder. She gave him a very dirty look. Harry looked as though he were torn between laughing and punching Ron, but in the end, he just reached for another slice of roast beef.
"I think I will go!" Ron said, standing up again. He knew he'd be better off at the stadium with the other real fans; he was just going to lose his mind if he had to stay here. "Dad, can I have my ticket, please?"
"Wait, Ron, I've made pies," said his mother. "Chocolate, lemon-meringue, and pumpkin – it's your favorite!"
Ron knew it was cruel, but desperate times called for desperate measures. His mother had bombarded him with maroon sweaters and corned beef and pumpkin pie his whole life, just because he had expressed an interest in them at the age of three. He had to draw the line.
"Mum," he said, "I… think pumpkin pie is disgusting." His mother's jaw dropped. "Not just yours – everyone's. But I'll eat a piece of the chocolate after the Cannons win!" he added quickly.
"I'll go with you," said Harry, finishing his last bite and standing. Ron was surprised, but pleased. It had been difficult to tear Harry away from Ginny these past few weeks, and although Ron could certainly understand, he wanted his best friend back for this momentous event. Once they got there, he knew Harry would get into the spirit of it. It was Quidditch, after all.
"Right," said Ron, taking two tickets from his father and handing one to Harry. "See you lot there."
*
The security outside the Quidditch stadium was unlike anything Harry had ever seen, which struck him as odd; the security hadn't been like this at the World Cup, in his fourth year, and that had been an international event. Perhaps the after-effects of war had made everyone especially paranoid. Wizards from the M.L.E.S. guarded the stadium entrance, looking grim and running their wands over everyone who entered, and it took a very long time to get inside. The longer they had to wait, the edgier Ron became, until Harry had to ask him to stop leaping up to check the front of the line every five seconds, because it was making him nervous.
"Are you carrying any cannonballs, hammers, pieces of old metal pipe, or any other objects that might be used to break heads?" asked the Enforcer who was running his wand over Ron.
"No, we're supporting the Cannons!" Ron protested, as the Enforcer ran a wand across his shoes one more time.
"Have you left your cloaks or bags unattended at any time?"
"We're not wearing any," Ron pointed out irritably. "Are you finished -"
"Has anyone else asked you to carry any cannonballs, hammers, pieces of old metal pipe, or any other objects that might be used to break heads?"
"Yeah," Ron said sarcastically. "And we're a couple of prats with candy floss for brains, so we decided it would be clever to say yes -"
Ron was immediately led to the side by two very large guards, sharply questioned, and was only released when Harry approached and was recognized.
"What's the problem?" Ron hissed, rubbing his wrists where the guards had grabbed them.
"The Falcons fans take their motto very seriously," growled one of the guards. "We're not having any unnecessary injuries at this game. All jokes at the gates are to be treated as threats to security."
"Paranoid much?" Ron muttered.
Harry dragged Ron away before he could say anything that would get them kicked out. When they finally entered the stadium, Ron hustled Harry past the food, muttering something about people who could be hungry at a time like this, and past all the bright-orange Cannons merchandise glittering in the sunlight. "I've got all the merchandise I need," he said, and patted his pocket. "This money's for Butterbeer."
They emerged onto the first bleachers and started to climb – Mr. Weasley, being Minister of Magic, was able to use the entire top box.
Harry was surprised to see so many people already at the stadium. Ron wasn't the only super-fanatical Cannons fan. There was still an hour and a half until the game started, and already the people in the seats created such an enormous, bright orange blur that it almost hurt Harry's eyes to look at them.
"Isn't it beautiful?" said Ron, putting a hand over his eyes and staring upwards. "The Cannons haven't been in a League Championship since 1892. And today… finally… all the loyal fans will be rewarded." His eyes looked glassy. "It's an honor to be here," he said. "An honor."
Harry would have snickered at Ron's somber tone if he hadn't been almost as excited. He had never been a big Cannons fan until this year, but there was something fantastic about seeing the underdogs rise to the top, Quidditch matches were nearly always a good time, and championships were always exceptionally cool. He found himself trying to hurry to get up to their seats.
About halfway up, someone waved, and Harry saw that it was Mr. Gladrag. He hurried towards them with his wife, as glamorous as ever, who was dressed in a long, sleeveless robe of brilliant orange, with little cannonballs zooming all around on the fabric.
"Like it?" asked Mr. Gladrag, looking at his young wife with obvious pride. When Harry and Ron both nodded, he looked pleased.
"We can make them to order for your young ladies, if you like," he offered. "Special discount – just for you two."
Harry tried to imagine Ginny wearing such a dress, but the Ginny in his head kept laughing at herself. He thought that Ron might be trying to see Hermione in his head as well, because he let out a loud snort that he quickly turned into a cough. Then he politely thanked Mr. Gladrag, and they continued up the stairs.
When they reached the box, which was bedecked with orange and black sparklers and streamers despite Mr. Weasley's protestations about "neutrality," Ron sat down right in the middle of the front row and pulled out his Omnioculars.
"You've still got those?" Harry asked.
"Best present you ever gave me," Ron said graciously, and tipped his old Cannons hat at Harry. "This is the second best." Ron, whose face had been unusually pale all morning, turned a bit pink, and looked away. Harry remembered how upset Ron had been, when he'd discovered that the gold with which he'd paid Harry back for the Omnioculars at the Quidditch World Cup had been leprechaun gold and had vanished into thin air several hours later. It seemed so long ago.
A young wizard wearing several flashing buttons on his robes and a plain hat that just said "QUIDDITCH" on it in plain lettering, came around selling bottles of Bottomless Butterbeer Extra - "Outlasts the Longest Match!" Ron motioned to him, bought two bottles, and handed one to Harry.
"Now we really are even," he joked, and then turned his attention to the field. Not much was going on.
"Where is everyone?" Harry asked. "Shouldn't they be practicing by now?"
"Fat lot you know," said Ron. "Haven't been paying attention to the season as much as you should. Been doing other, more important things, have you?"
Harry pulled the brim of his hat very low, and didn't answer.
"There's a very strict warm-up schedule now – has been ever since Knight was injured before that game that you played."
Just then, there was a loud booing and hissing noise and line of players in dark-gray and white robes flew out onto the field from behind one of the stands. The Falmouth Falcons.
"See," Ron explained to Harry, "they have half an hour to warm up, then they go in and the Cannons come out for half an hour. That way, they're not both on the field at the same time and there's less chance of getting hurt."
Harry watched intently as the Falcons flew back and forth, throwing Quaffles at each other and dodging Bludgers. The Cannons were in for a tough game if this warm-up session was any indication. The two burly Beaters were pelting their own Chasers with Bludgers, and following up with insults. The Chasers were showing the Keeper no mercy, as Quaffle after Quaffle flew expertly towards the hoops. Whenever the Keeper missed, he caught up with the Quaffle and threw it so hard back at the offending Chaser that Harry kept waiting for one of them to fall of his broom.
"Good to see you've decided to eat, Ron," said Hermione, motioning to the Butterbeer clutched in Ron's hand. She and Ginny had just entered the box, and they took seats on either side of Ron and Harry, and passed them official programs. The programs were thick and shiny, and the cover was divided diagonally into two sections, one orange and one gray. Photographs of the team captains glimmered up from their respective colors; Mulrod McNierney looked frightening, and Oliver looked fierce. Across the front in black lettering the program read: QLCFGB&I.
"The Q L C…" Hermione began uncertainly.
"Quidditch League Cup Final of Great Britain and Ireland," Ron said, grabbing his program and holding up his bottle without taking his eyes off the warm up. "Want a drink? They're bottomless."
"Is it just Butterbeer?" Hermione asked warily.
"Yeah." Ron waved a haphazard hand in the air, and the Butterbeer man came back. "Two more, please," Ron said, and passed one to Hermione without incident. But he virtually threw the other bottle at Ginny and leapt from his seat to clutch the railing.
She squealed and held the foaming bottle away from her lap. "Ron," she complained.
But Ron was no longer available. The Cannons had flown onto the field. Harry got to his feet and cheered, though he noticed that Ron wasn't shouting like most of the other fans; instead he had gone perfectly still, and there was a look of perfect concentration on his face, as if his personal focus, starting now, would make or break the match.
Harry grinned. If a person was going to get fanatical about something, Quidditch was really the best choice. He turned back to the pitch as Maureen Knight began to practice her dives, and he felt a pang of jealousy. He would have loved to play in a match as important as this. It was something he hadn't let himself think about seriously for a long time, but watching Knight made him itch to be in her place. He could almost feel the wind beating against his own face as she dove again.
"What?" Ron said absently to Hermione. She was barely watching the practice, and instead was reading her program and asking Ron questions about it.
"Maureen Knight is leaving the Cannons," Hermione repeated, looking surprised that Ron didn't already know it.
"What?" said Harry, shocked. "Why?"
"It doesn't say…" mused Hermione. "Oh, wait, it says she's leaving for personal reasons. I wonder if Oliver's been too hard on her?"
Harry pulled his own Omnioculars out of his pocket and focused on the space in the sky where Knight and Wood seemed to be having an intense conversation. From far away, they certainly seemed to be arguing, but up close, they didn't look angry at all. As a matter of fact, they looked like they were trying very hard not to laugh. He recalled that Oliver always launched himself at Knight after she caught the Snitch, and he wondered if there was anything "personal" between them.
"She wouldn't really leave the Cannons when she's doing so well," Harry said, still unconvinced.
"She would," said Ginny, who also had a copy of the guide in her lap. "It says here, 'Maureen Knight will return to the Ballycastle Bats next season, leaving the Chudley Cannons without a Seeker'. Then it lists the best picks for next year's Seeker, and you're at the top of the list."
Harry let go of his Omnioculars and blinked at her. "Am I really?" he asked in surprise. "Can I see?"
Her eyes shining, Ginny showed him the page.
"But… I never said I was going out for Quidditch again."
Ginny leaned closer to him. "That doesn't change the fact that you're the best pick," she said confidently, pushing up his hat brim in order to give him a kiss. Harry shut his eyes and enjoyed it for a moment, though he was almost sure he heard a few flashbulbs pop.
"Harry Potter Takes Advantage of Minister's Daughter in Top Box," Ginny whispered.
Harry snorted. "Harry Potter Drags Minister's Daughter Under Stands and They Miss the Whole Match," he muttered back.
Ginny grinned. "It's not a catchy headline," she said. "But the story could be good." She put her hand on his knee, and Harry covered it with his own, not minding when she knocked his hat back a bit further to kiss him again. It was all right if she wanted to kiss him here. Ron wasn't paying attention anyway, and Hermione didn't care, and the reporters… well. The reporters were going to find them no matter what.
Ginny suddenly broke away and pushed back her hair. "Oh, hi, Dad," she said easily.
Harry untangled himself from her as quickly as if he were kissing an Acromantula. He did not look up at Mr. Weasley, who had just entered the top box with the rest of his family right behind him. All of them were followed by a small group of reporters and photographers; Eloise Midgen and Colin Creevey waved to Harry as the Weasleys took their seats.
"Mr. Weasley!" said a female reporter who pushed her way to the front and jostled Eloise out of the way with her elbow. The reporter looked like she had recently had her nose broken, and her badly-dyed red hair looked sorely out of place next to the throng of Weasleys in the box. Harry noticed that Mr. Weasley looked wary, but he composed himself and indicated that he would answer a question.
"We've heard from a reliable source that Mr. Draco Malfoy plans to sue the Ministry of Magic for abuse and coercion. Care to comment?"
Harry sat upright. This was certainly news to him. Even Ron took his eyes off the Quidditch pitch to stare at the reporters in amazement.
"What's that got to do with Quidditch, Flummery?" Sirius and Remus were fighting through the crowd of people who had gathered outside of the Minister's box.
Harry's insides burned. So this was the reporter who had caused so many problems – who had written those awful things about himself and Ginny and Malfoy and Mr. Weasley. A flash bulb went off, and Harry recognized Flummery's partner-in-crime, Crispin R. Peltier. Before he knew what he was doing, Harry stood up and pointed his wand at Peltier's camera.
"Disolvus," Harry said sharply, and a great jet of smoke sizzled out of the camera.
"That's illegal!" shouted Peltier, frantically attempting to salvage his film. But it coiled out of the camera in a scorching mess, obviously burnt beyond use.
"So's writing rubbish and lies," Harry said, pointing his wand at Flummery's thick scroll of parchment, which she immediately hid behind her back. "Get out, both of you."
They left, looking furious. Most of the other reporters, obviously unnerved by Harry's ready wand and the sight of Sirius Black glowering at them, hurried back down the bleachers to make it to the press box in time for the beginning of the game. Only Colin and Eloise remained behind.
"I can't believe they still work for the Prophet," said Charlie.
"They don't," Eloise replied, clearly very happy about it. "Ever since the article about Malfoy and you, Ginny. They disappeared for a while after that, and then they were sacked for good, for failing to show up for work and meet their deadlines. And they've never been able to explain where they were." She shrugged.
"I'm sure Malfoy had them both beaten to a pulp after what they printed about him and me," Ginny said, sounding unconcerned. "And then they must have been Memory Charmed or something. Otherwise we would have heard about it."
"What a shame." Eloise smiled. "Erm, Mr. Weasley, you wouldn't mind my asking a few questions, would you?"
Soon, Eloise was talking with Mr. Weasley and recording his comments with her wand, while Colin leaned over the box to shake Harry's hand.
"Nice move there, with Peltier's camera - just don't ever get angry at me like that, all right?" Colin gave his own camera a protective pat.
"Do you two want to sit in here?" Harry said, pocketing his wand and sitting back down. "There might be room if we -"
"Can't," Colin interrupted regretfully. "Soon as Eloise is done, we have to get back down to where the action is. I just came up to give you this." He handed Harry a photograph.
Harry recognized it. It was of himself and Ginny, and it had been taken the previous summer, in the front garden at Lupin Lodge. He remembered how uncomfortable he'd been then – around everyone – about everything. Especially Ginny. In the photograph, her face was turned away from Harry and she swiped covertly at her eyes. Harry realized with a touch of surprise that she must have been crying. The Harry in the photograph didn't seem aware of that, however; he was too busy slanting sidelong, wistful glances at her blue bathing costume.
Harry knew he was red. He wondered if Colin had somehow… done… something to the photograph to alter it – to make it like the ones that were printed in Charmed Life. He felt his face grow warm and looked questioningly up at Colin, unable, at first, to meet his eyes.
But Colin just grinned. "I kept it under lock and key until I was sure it was safe to give it to you."
"Cheers," Harry mumbled. Ginny was now leaning over his shoulder and looking at the picture. As she did so, the Ginny in the photograph suddenly turned her face and reached up to touch Harry's cheek – something he was certain she hadn't done at the time. The Harry in the photograph blinked.
"What a lovely picture," said Mrs. Weasley fondly, from behind Ginny. Beside her, Adam and the other boys who lived at the Burrow all sniggered.
Ginny quickly took the photograph out of Harry's hand and tucked it into her pocket. She was blushing. "Thanks, Colin," she said faintly, touching her knee to Harry's. "I don't think I have any of us together."
"Really? Because I got a great one up at Azkaban," Colin said. "I was going to submit it to the editor, but then I thought… I don't know. I thought better of it. But I'll send you a copy, if you like."
Harry and Ginny both nodded.
Eloise and Colin left shortly after that, and Mr. Weasley heaved a comfortable sigh. "Very pleasant girl," he said. "Easy to talk to. It's nice to see her career going so well."
"Well, it can't hurt knowing all of us, can it?" asked Fred. "We're a newsworthy lot."
"And in case she doesn't have enough to write about," said George, "we've brought these." Out of the folds of his orange and black robes, he pulled a bright-red box labeled Weasleys' Ultimate Party Crackers ~ Amaze and Alarm Your Guests!
"Don't you dare -" their mother began.
"But, Mum, this batch was custom made for this very occasion!" George protested. "And they're very safe," he added, grinning widely.
"Only pull those after they win," Ron said. "Don't get us kicked out."
"Ohhh, is ickle Ronniekins nervous?" Fred crooned. "I fink he is…"
But Ron didn't answer. Instead, he suddenly leaned so far over the railing that Harry thought he might fall; both he and Hermione grabbed the back of Ron's bright-orange T-shirt and held onto him.
"It's starting!" Ron said in a hoarse, excited whisper. "Here it comes!"
"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!" boomed the announcer. "WELCOME TO THE QUIDDITCH LEAGUE CUP FINAL OF GREAT BRITAIN AND IRELAND!"
The cheers that met the announcement were so loud that Harry had to cover his ears. But he jumped up and joined in them beside Ron, who was shouting himself into a frenzy.
"That's Lee, isn't it!" Hermione shouted over the din. "Oh, I hope he's able to be impartial, this is a very important match!"
"AND HERE THEY ARE, DEFENDING THEIR TITLE AND HOLDING FIRST PLACE IN THE LEAGUE TONIGHT WITH FOUR THOUSAND, TWO HUNDRED AND NINETY POINTS FOR THE SEASON - A ROUND OF APPLAUSE FOR MULROD MCNIERNEY AND THE FALMOUTH FALCONS!"
Ron immediately stopped cheering, and so did half the crowd. But on the other side of the stadium, there was an eruption of sound and a tremendous fluttering of dark gray banners as the Falcons' names were announced.
"AND, COMPETING FOR THE CUP TONIGHT, FOR THE FIRST TIME IN ONE HUNDRED AND SEVEN YEARS, AND ALSO HOLDING FIRST PLACE IN THE LEAGUE WITH A TIED SCORE OF FOUR THOUSAND, TWO HUNDRED AND NINETY POINTS FOR THE SEASON - PUT YOUR HANDS TOGETHER FOR A BRILLIANT MADMAN AND HIS EXCELLENT TEAM - OLIVER WOOD AND THE CHUDLEY CANNONS!"
The stands shook with such a noise of screams and feet stamping that Harry was temporarily deafened. But he shouted as loud as the rest of them, stomped his feet, and banged his open hands on the railing. Angelina hurled what looked like a giant orange into the air - it exploded twenty feet up and rained down a shower of orange and black confetti that seemed to be alive; it fluttered down around them like thousands of tiny butterflies and got into everyone's collars and hair. It was lovely, and it tickled, and Harry laughed out loud in honest delight.
"Oh, are there more of those?" Ginny asked, turning around. "They're great - whose idea?"
"Mine," Angelina said, grinning and passing out the huge oranges to everyone.
"TO RELEASE THE OFFICIAL GAME BALLS, WE WOULD LIKE TO ASK THE HELP OF A YOUNG MAN YOU'VE ALL HEARD OF - UNLESS YOU'VE BEEN LIVING ON ANOTHER PLANET - WE KNOW HE'S IN THE STANDS TONIGHT -"
Harry felt a stab of apprehension - he didn't want to go down there. He glanced at Ron and Hermione, neither of whom looked surprised, and then at Ginny, who gave him an apologetic look and a bracing pat on the arm.
"WILL MR. ADAM HOPEWELL PLEASE COME DOWN TO THE PITCH!"
There was one massive, unbelievable shout of approval from both the Cannons and the Falcons fans.
Harry was too startled to join in the cheers. That hadn't been his name at all. A rush of impossible warmth swept through him as he turned around with the rest of the gaping Weasleys to look at Adam. Perhaps the world had moved on… to someone else.
Adam looked stunned. "Me?" he said faintly. "Down to the pitch?"
"Well, go on," Charlie said, giving him a friendly shove. "Don't make us carry you."
Adam walked dazedly to the door of the box, and then he seemed to come to life. He turned back, flashed a huge grin at all of them, then whirled and sprinted down and out of the stands and to the gate, where burly security guards ushered him onto the pitch. The referee led him to the polished wooden trunk and handed him a key.
Adam turned, squinted up at the top box, and waved his key in the air. Harry, the Weasleys and their friends all cheered. And then Adam bent down, unlocked the trunk, and leapt back to avoid being smashed by the Bludgers, both of which zoomed out at top speed.
"Oh -" Mrs. Weasley gasped. "My goodness, that was almost his nose."
The Quaffle floated up next and was grabbed in midair by the referee. The Snitch was last to flutter out. It hovered for a second in front of Adam, winked flirtatiously, and then skittered off into the sky as Adam watched it, his face intent and his eyes very narrow. Harry found himself wondering what position Adam would get to play at school next year, or if he'd want to play at all.
"We should really go and see him play," he said to Ron. "If he plays at Hogwarts."
"Okay," said Ron absently, his eyes scanning the players as they rose into the sky and gathered around the center of the pitch, where the referee was taking his place with the Quaffle.
"You'd
have to cheer for Slytherin," Hermione pointed out.
Harry and Ron looked dubiously at each other, and then they both snorted with laughter.
"McGonagall would have kittens, wouldn't she?" Ron said.
"That'd make it worth it," said Fred. "So I'll go with you."
"And me," said George. "You know, we're right down the street from Hogwarts, we really ought to pay weekly visits to McGonagall next year."
"Oh, definitely," Angelina agreed. "And we can, you know, show the new third years round Hogsmeade for her."
"Adam'll be in third year!" said Fred, his eyes lighting up. "I hadn't thought of that - but we'll show him everything, won't we, George?"
"He'll have advantages most young boys can only dream of," said George, rubbing his hands together. "Harry - do you still have that map?"
"Yeah, of course," said Harry. "I'll bequeath it to him before September first."
Sirius and Remus looked extremely pleased.
Adam came bursting back into the box, panting as if he'd run up all the stairs. "That was brilliant," he crowed. "I'm famous - when I get back to school I'll tell everyone about doing that - and doing the stuff at Azkaban - and living with the Minister of Magic -"
"Do be quiet, dear," said Mrs. Weasley absently, patting his head. She handed him a small sack of Knuts and Sickles. "Run along and get me a nice big iced pumpkin juice, would you? Oh, and here -" She handed Adam a few more coins. "Get drinks for your friends as well. That's a good boy."
Adam scowled and turned to Mr. Weasley for support.
But Mr. Weasley only shrugged. "As I understand it, Adam, you're still grounded. You're quite lucky to be here at all today, you know. You'd better do as she says."
Adam gave a long-suffering sigh and stomped out, muttering something about not being appreciated. The other boys, who had been looking quite jealous, looked mollified by the prospect of being brought pumpkin juice by their famous friend. They happily returned their attention to the pitch.
"Mum'll keep his feet on the ground," Ginny whispered to Harry. "It's a good thing, too. He might have turned out like Malfoy or something, honestly."
Harry agreed. He glanced over his shoulder at Mrs. Weasley, who was having a quiet word with her husband, and he felt a surge of admiration. She really had a knack for turning strange little boys into normal human beings. He knew it first hand.
"THE QUAFFLE IS UP!"
Ron gave a victorious shout and Harry turned back to the match just in time to see Ginny hurl her confetti orange into the sky. They both threw back their heads and watched the start of the final through a haze of tiny orange and black butterflies, and Ginny slipped her hand around Harry's head and brought his ear over to her mouth, in the chaos.
"You'll be out there next year," she whispered, and her breath shot straight into his head, making him shut his eyes and grip the railing for balance. "Won't you."
Harry knew Mr. Weasley was in the row behind them. He knew it was a reckless move. But he couldn't stop himself - he had to return the favor - he reached over to cradle Ginny's head in his hand, and he pulled her ear over to him.
"If that's where you want me," he said hoarsely.
Ginny shivered, and then shouted for joy and threw up her hands. Harry let her go and did the same. Cole Kerry had just scored the first goal of the match.
*
"Molly! Did you see that!"
"It would have been hard to miss it, dear. It's all happening right in front of my face." Molly gave her husband's knee a fond pat. She had never been much for Quidditch, except when Arthur had played Keeper in school. Then, every goal scored against Gryffindor had seemed a terrible crime, and every incredible save had been a reason to lose her voice entirely. She had used to sit in the stands and look forward to the rest of the evening, knowing that when the game was done, and he had showered and either celebrated or licked his wounds, they'd sneak off together into some abandoned room or other, where she could tell him how wonderful he was, whether he had won or lost.
"What a save!"
Molly leaned against his shoulder. He was still wonderful. Whether he won or lost. But she was very, very glad that he had won; there was no one so qualified to be the Minister of Magic. No one she trusted as much to oversee the affairs of their world - she tried to imagine that he was not her husband, tried to imagine how she would have felt about his election if she had no personal bias, and she was almost sure that she would have been his supporter even if he were a stranger. After all, under his supervision, the Ministry had been rebuilt and the Dementors had been destroyed. Under his supervision, their world had mended itself in many ways. Molly knew there was still enormous work to be done, but with Arthur at the helm, it would all come to rights. She had no doubt of that. And he had begun to gather a council of worthy witches and wizards around him, who would - she hoped - make it possible for him to be home a little more often.
"I thought you said that Rose Brown was coming to the match, dear?" Arthur had chosen Rose as the Chancellor of the Ministry's Exchequer - a post with which she seemed extremely pleased. "With her husband?"
Arthur didn't seem to hear her. He clapped a hand to his chest and let out a breath. "That was a close one!" he said. "Wood's an excellent Keeper - and I suppose it's too late to pretend I'm unbiased, what with all this confetti."
Harry had just launched another exploding orange into the air, and Molly watched him affectionately. She very much liked to see his arm slip around Ginny in that protective way, and she entirely understood the starry-eyed gaze her daughter turned on him when she thought no one was looking. They were wonderful together. Even Arthur thought so. And he had always said that he wouldn't give Ginny up to anything less than the best young man in Britain - it would have been hard to find a better.
"Yeah, Mick and Rose are coming, Mum," Charlie said from behind her, and Molly craned her neck to look at him. "I'm dead surprised he wasn't here early, actually - he's almost as big a fan as I am."
"It's probably the security at the gates," said Cho. "If they'd been with us they could have cut straight to the front of the queue, because of your dad and all. But if they've had to wait with everyone else -"
"Then they've had to wait an hour. You're right." Charlie tapped Cho's Butterbeer bottle with his own. "Do you need another?"
"Mine's bottomless, isn't yours?"
Charlie's eyebrows shot up. "Clever one, aren't you?" he said, and nudged her. "No, mine's regular, but I'll go and exchange it - want anything?"
Cho smiled a bit and shook her head. She was a very pretty girl, Molly thought.
"Mum?"
"No, thank you, Charlie," said Molly, giving Adam's shoulder a pat. "I've got the help I need in that department." She watched Charlie squeeze politely past Cho and disappear into the throng of orange-clad fans, and she marveled at the difference a steady girlfriend had made in him. He had never been so… well… tame.
"Ron, you're going to fall!"
Molly turned back to see Hermione sitting back in her seat, bracing her feet against the railing and holding Ron by the back belt loops of his trousers so that he wouldn't pitch over the side of the stands and plummet onto the other fans.
"Can you sit down for five seconds?" she asked, clearly exasperated. Molly wanted to tell her that it was no use, but it was almost amusing to watch Hermione trying so hard to achieve the impossible. And she would learn soon enough - if she hadn't learned already - that there was no sense in trying to change a Weasley. They were all mad.
Ron reached around behind himself, grabbed both of Hermione's wrists, and pulled her to her feet behind him. She nearly fell against his back - she gave a little squeal of protest and pulled away to stand beside him, shooting a quick, blushing glance behind her to see who was watching. She caught Molly's eyes for a flickering, embarrassed second, and glanced immediately away.
Molly would have told her that she didn't mind at all. But Hermione never would have believed it.
"Ron, honestly," Hermione muttered.
"Now, look at their Keeper," Ron said, in a professorial sort of voice. "He plays for England - but Wood'll replace him if the Cannons win tonight, I guarantee it. Atlas has been England's Keeper for a few years, and he's good - but Wood's better."
"Atlas like the myth?" Hermione asked, making Ron look quizzically at her.
Harry laughed. "Do you know what his first name is, Hermione?"
She shook her head.
"Vernon," said Ron and Harry together, making both Hermione and Ginny scowl and declare their undying dislike for the man, though they had never met him. Molly knew that Harry's uncle was called Vernon, and she found herself inclined to despise the Falcons Keeper as well, based solely on his name. She wondered if Harry would ever see that horrible family of his again, for any reason. She hoped not. They weren't really his family. Not in his heart - she knew it. On impulse, she reached out and smoothed the back of his unruly black hair, trying to pat it into shape. It was very much the same impulse that kept her fiddling with Bill's ponytail, and it was… strange, perhaps, to be so truly attached to a child who wasn't her flesh and blood. But it wasn't really strange. Harry had been with them for so long that he felt quite like her own, and she thought that he probably felt the same way.
The shy, happy smile he turned on her left no room for doubt.
"It won't lie flat," he told her, quickly pushing up his glasses. "I've been trying for years."
Molly ruffled his fringe, caught a glimpse of his scar, and sighed for him as he turned away. He had been through too much. He was due a long rest. She was very glad that he seemed to be about to take it.
"Rose! What's wrong?"
Molly turned. Arthur sounded concerned; he was looking at Rose Brown, who had just appeared at the door of the top box, looking absolutely exhausted.
Arthur was on his feet. "Is it at the Ministry? What have I missed? Do I need to -"
"No, Arthur, it's not at the Ministry." Rose rubbed her head. "If it were, I could do something about it. Is there a seat…?"
Cho motioned to the two empty seats on her other side, and Rose sank into one of them.
"Rose?" Molly frowned worriedly up at her. "Is there something you need?"
Rose shook her head and waved a listless hand in the air. "You'll see," she said vaguely. "Just wait."
Molly didn't have to wait long. A few moments later there was a sort of cannibal war cry from outside the door, and two strange, savage looking beasts appeared in the top box. They were shirtless, they smelt of very strong alcohol, and their faces and chests were painted in garish orange, with huge black letters written in paint across their fronts. One bare orange chest bore an enormous C, and the other an A.
It was a long, shocked moment before Molly realized in horror that one of the beasts was Charlie.
"Charles Beauregard Weasley!" she shrieked. "Put your clothes on, you are in public, and your father -"
But it was too late. Flashbulbs were popping everywhere. Arthur was tucking his wand into his robes, looking torn between anger and amusement, and amusement was obviously getting the better of him. Molly gave him a hard look.
"Tell your son to behave."
"Behave yourself, Charlie," Arthur said automatically, taking Molly's hand. "The damage is done," he whispered, leaning towards her. "It's too late now. Might as well let them have their fun."
"You'll never be re-elected if they carry on like this!"
"Well, it was never my plan to be elected in the first place and these… are…" He looked around and shook his head. "My… children."
He looked as though he wasn't quite sure where they had come from, and Molly had to laugh. He was right. Elections were all well and good, and it was wonderful that he was Minister for now. But no matter what happened next, they would manage just as they always had. And if their children wanted to be Quidditch fanatics, well then, as long as they weren't hurting anyone, it was all right.
"Besides," Arthur said after a moment, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Fleur taught me the most interesting charm before she and Bill left for France - a Diversion Enchantment, she called it. Do you know why the flashbulbs stopped popping a moment ago?"
Molly shook her head.
"Because this box looks empty to everyone outside it." Arthur patted his wand. "I don't know how the Muggle politicians manage it, I really don't."
"I'm the C!" Mick shouted, beating his chest and making Rose give a disgusted sigh.
"So much for my career," she muttered. "Can't take him anywhere."
Arthur motioned Rose over, and quietly told her what he had just told Molly. She looked enormously relieved and sat down again beside Cho, who was watching the spectacle and laughing.
"I'm the A!" Charlie bellowed. "We need an N!"
Ron shoved his Bottomless Butterbeer Extra into Harry's hands and ripped off his shirt. Hermione dropped into her seat and shut her eyes. She obviously knew that there was no point in trying to fight it.
"PAINT ME!" Ron shouted, and Charlie threw him a pot of glowing orange body paint, which Ron proceeded to smear all over himself. He grabbed the black paint next, and swiped a giant N across his front. "WE NEED ANOTHER N!" he cried.
Fred was the next to lose his shirt, and then George, who became the O. Angelina painted a great black N right over the front of her Magpies T-shirt, and they all made a line at the front of the box. Sirius tried to join them, but Remus grabbed the back of his robes and told him, in no uncertain terms, that it was out of the question. Hermione climbed into the row behind Ron and took Fred's old seat, and Ginny took George's.
Harry stayed where he was, looking torn.
"We need an S, Harry!" Charlie shouted, and pushed the orange paint at Harry, who didn't take it. Instead he took a long, long swig of his Butterbeer Extra, as though trying to work himself into the fury that the rest of them were in.
"Come on, mate," Ron pleaded. "Be the S, you have to."
But Harry wasn't having any of it. He simply continued to drink. He was such a modest boy, Molly thought, watching him. He really didn't seem to fit in with the rest of them that way. It would probably take a lot more than Butterbeer to get Harry to go half-naked in a public place, and Molly was very glad of it.
"Drink up," Charlie said, shoving a sinister-looking, dark green bottle at Harry. "Go on, have a swig - that's it, Harry! All right!"
Looking half-determined and half-sick, Harry put the bottle to his lips and took a swallow. He winced and ducked his head, then let out a sort of groan.
"I hate this stuff," he said, holding it out to Ron, who took a swallow without so much as making a face, pushed it immediately back into Harry's hands, and leapt into the air with a shout as two of the Cannons Chasers flew towards each other at top speed and nearly crushed one of the Falcons Chasers between them.
Molly felt a soft tap on her shoulder, and she turned. Penelope had reached out with her wand from two rows back. She had Leo cradled to her shoulder, and he was beginning to cry. The two of them had been so quiet that Molly had nearly forgotten that they were there.
"I'm going to go," Penelope said, indicating Leo. "He needs a nap, and I think the noise is getting to him." Penelope looked as though the noise was getting to her, too, and she seemed quite pleased that she had Leo to get her out of the rest of the match.
The match had been going for nearly an hour and a half, and Molly thought she might prefer to go home herself. She had a feeling that she would be shouted at by all the men in her family if she tried to abandon the finals, and she wished she had a fussy baby for an excuse.
"Would you like to put him down for his nap at the Burrow, dear?" Molly asked. "And have a cuppa? It's been so long since we had a nice chat."
"But you're not really going," Arthur pleaded at once. "It's only just started, Molly -"
"Yes, but Arthur, Penny will be leaving for Cortona as soon as she has permission to go, and I'd like to spend some time with her." She kissed his cheek and whispered in his ear: "And you know I only ever cared for Quidditch when you played."
Arthur's ears went red. "Oh, go on then," he said gruffly, smiling a bit. "Have your tea. I'll see you at home."
Molly kissed him again and stood up. "You'll bring the boys home for dinner?"
"Of course." He patted her leg and stood to let her past, and she squeezed by him, towards the exit. As she followed Rose to the door, she saw the Quaffle hurtle past Oliver Wood and go straight through the center hoop.
"FALCONS SCORE!"
The howl of misery that erupted from the front row was almost comical. The foul-mouthed insults that followed it, however, were not. Molly couldn't tell who was shouting what, and she couldn't reach all of them to give them the raps on their heads that they deserved. She clenched her fists, propped them on her hips, narrowed her eyes into slits and sucked in a breath.
"BOYS!"
Charlie, Mick, Fred, George, Ron, Angelina and Harry all turned at once. They all looked terrified.
"How can you swear like that?" Molly hissed, glaring at them each in turn, with all the force she had. It was quite a bit. "Isn't it bad enough you're using your father's box to do your stripping and drinking in? Didn't you notice the press? Can't you at least watch your language?" She knew very well that no one could see the spectacle her children were making, and it was very likely that no one could hear them either, but that wasn't the point. They didn't know that they couldn't be seen or heard. "None of you has any respect," she finished icily. "What have you to say for yourselves? How are you going to make it up to your father?"
Hermione and Rose both looked very smug. Ginny and Cho looked entertained, and so did all the younger boys.
"Sorry, Mr. Weasley," Harry said at once, clearly mortified to have been included in the scolding. Molly usually excused him, but she was fairly sure that some of the language had come from him as well, and there was no reason for him to get out of trouble anymore. He wasn't a guest.
"Sorry, Dad." Charlie ducked his head.
"Sorry, Mr. Weasley… Sorry, Rosie."
"I'm really sorry, Arthur."
"Want us to put our shirts back on, Dad?"
"Are we making you look bad? We can stop."
"Dad… I… forgot..." Ron blinked up at his father from behind a mask of messy orange and black stripes, looking honestly ashamed. "Do we… do we need to leave?"
It was the ultimate sacrifice, and it seemed they all knew it. Everyone glanced at Ron in surprise - even Arthur.
"Oh, well." Arthur laughed lightly. "I don't know that we need to take it that far, boys. Now, say goodbye to Penny and your mother - they're going home."
Everyone said goodbye, and Molly left, feeling much better. They really were wonderful children. Just thoughtless, sometimes. She had only had one son who would have tried to talk the others down from their nonsense. Well - perhaps two. But even Bill had never been as conscientious as Percy. Molly paused in mid step, closed her eyes for just an instant, and sent her love to him, wherever he was.
"You're amazing," Penny said, as they wound their way down the stadium stairs and towards the exit. "I hope Leo will listen to me like that, when he's older."
"Oh, he will, dear," Molly said. "If he's anything like his father, you won't even have to shout."
Penny bent suddenly and kissed Leo's face. Molly passed a gentle hand over Penny's hair, and her heart was strangely light as they passed through stadium security and stepped out into the cool summer twilight. Not everything was as it should have been - but it was close. And it was good.
*
The moment Molly Weasley left the top box, Arthur cleared his throat and addressed his guilty children.
"Don't worry about it. Honestly." He pointed into empty space. "I put up a charm, and no one can see you. Go to it."
Everyone looked confused for a moment, and then they gave one loud, grateful, exonerated whoop and turned back to drink and shout and beat their chests and watch the match. Only Ron kept facing his father, his eyes shining.
"You're brilliant, Dad," he rasped. He swiped under his eyes and smeared his face paint. "Brilliant. I thought we'd really ruined it for you - I thought we were going to have to - to leave -"
"Yes, well. Watch the match," Arthur said, and Ron sniffed, nodded and turned away while Hermione and Ginny looked at each other and rolled their eyes.
Remus had to work not to laugh. He and Sirius were sitting at the edge of the box, and had so far managed to keep out of the line of fire - though if Sirius had been allowed to do what he wanted, he would have leapt out of the box several minutes ago with no shirt on and a huge S painted on his chest.
"Harry'd better do it," Sirius was muttering. "There's no point in him being shy like that - these are his friends -" He put his fingers on his wand as if he was tempted to pull it and make Harry's shirt disappear.
"Don't," Remus said. "Think of James."
Sirius snorted. "James would have got him drunk and painted him himself. Why do you think he made me godfather?"
"Then think of Lily. Imagine she's standing here, watching you ruin her only son."
Sirius sighed, then pressed his mouth shut and looked very pensive. "Do you ever wonder how many children they would have had if…"
Remus had wondered it. He'd wondered everything; there had been plenty of time. "They were… so in love," he said wistfully, remembering what they had been like together. "I imagine that, unless they had been very careful, they would probably have ended up with a family as big as Arthur's."
Sirius grinned. "James would be gratified to know we gave him that much credit."
Remus wasn't sure he could joke about it. "James would have been an excellent father," he said quietly.
"Remus, may I interrupt?" Arthur's voice was mild. "I have a question."
He moved over into the seat beside Arthur's, shielding his eyes against a sudden blast of bright orange light. Ron had lit a fistful of sparklers and was passing them out. He handed one to Harry, who still had his shirt on, but was taking another swig out of the green bottle and beginning to look rather tipsy.
"GIVE US AN S, HARRY!" Mick roared.
Harry passed the bottle to Angelina and shoved back his fringe with an unsteady hand.
"TWO HOUR MATCH!" Ron shouted to Hermione, who looked nonplussed. "LET'S HOPE FOR FIVE DAYS!"
Hermione nodded kindly, took a sparkler, and waited for Ron to turn around again before she handed the sparkler off to Sirius and went back to nursing her Butterbeer along with Ginny. They leaned together, glancing at Ron and Harry by turns, and whispering and giggling at intervals. Both their faces had grown rather pink, and Remus wondered just how much they'd drunk. He didn't have to wonder what they were talking about.
"Remus," Arthur said, "what are your plans for - oh, that was a corker of a save, wasn't it - did you see that?"
Remus hadn't.
"The Falcons are better than I expected," Arthur went on. "I'd hate to see them win - mostly for Ron's sake, you know. But if they keep blocking shots as good as that one, I'd say it's all going to come down to the Snitch. What do you think?"
"It's likely, I suppose," Remus said noncommittally, wondering what it was that Arthur wanted to know about his plans.
"It's always so much more interesting that way, I think," Arthur said, obviously warming up to the subject. Remus began to see where Ron got his enthusiasm. "For example, the Quidditch World Cup I took the children to in 1995 - Bulgaria caught the Snitch in that one, but Ireland won it. Fascinating when it goes that way, isn't it?"
"Fascinating."
Arthur slanted a look at him. "I take it you're not exactly wild for Quidditch?" he said, smiling.
Remus laughed. "I used to be, a bit. In school. When my friends all played."
"You didn't play?"
Remus looked out over the pitch. The fact was that he really couldn't have played - not even if he'd been as fanatical as James. It simply wouldn't have been fair to go out for the team and then have a full moon recovery get in the way of an important match. Dumbledore probably would have scheduled things around the moon, but Dumbledore had made enough exceptions for him, and Remus hadn't wanted to ask.
"I wasn't really interested," he finally answered.
Arthur nodded. "What does interest you? Aside from teaching, I mean. I know you're a very good teacher - do you plan to return to Hogwarts, in the Autumn?"
Remus had a feeling that Arthur was leading up to something. He wasn't sure whether to be excited or very nervous. He shrugged. "Minerva asked me to come back and teach Care of Magical Creatures," he said slowly.
"And is that what you'll do?"
"No… the young lady who took over for Hagrid - Meg Castellwild - I believe she's taken the post. I did enjoy teaching Defense…"
"But?" Arthur asked.
Remus wasn't sure what made him hesitate. Perhaps it was that he knew Hogwarts was his only option, and he wanted other avenues to be available to him. Perhaps it was that he knew that, even after his service in the war, there would be hundreds of parents who simply would not want him supervising their children. That prejudice, he knew, had not even begun to vanish from their world. He wondered if it ever really would.
"The Ministry's far from fully staffed, you know," Arthur said, almost absently. "I'm just in the middle of appointing Heads of departments. You know about Rose, of course."
"Arthur, I don't think you could have made a better choice," Remus said, and he thought Rose might have heard him in the next row back. She lifted her chin and a smile touched her mouth.
Arthur adjusted his hat. "I rely on her absolutely," he said. "Couldn't have got through this year without her there every step of the way. I really did expect her to be elected Minister, you know - and I would have been pleased if she had."
Now Remus was sure Rose was listening. Her hands were clasped very tightly in her lap, and she glowed out at the Quidditch pitch, though she didn't seem to see the match.
"Diggory's going to stay at the head of the Department of Magical Law," Arthur went on. "Moody just agreed to do one more year with the Aurors - just one, he told me. He swore he'd retire five years ago, and he does deserve a rest. But we need him - there's nothing else for it. And he's unwilling to turn over Aurors' training to someone less qualified."
"Does that put Culparrat under his jurisdiction?"
"It does, and he's appointed a deputy head of staff there - Elizabeth Duzen. Says she's his most promising new recruit."
Remus wasn't sure it was fair to ask the question that weighed on his mind - but he had to. "I know there were some… tentative plans to use…" He didn't know why it still bothered him to say it. "Werewolves. As prison guards. Is that still something that's being considered?"
Arthur shook his head. "It's unnecessary. The elves have arranged an extensive system by which they take care of all the prisoners' needs without having to lift any of the enchanted wards - they're quite powerful, elves. The Apparition borders don't faze them at all. And that makes it a very easy place to guard - unless the Imprisonment Enchantment should come crashing down, which is highly unlikely. There will be Aurors on the shore and at the entrance. That's all that's needed."
Remus felt a stab of disappointment. It wasn't that he had wanted to be a prison guard, exactly. But it would have been another opportunity. It would have made him feel that he had options. And he knew that many people in his predicament would have felt the same way.
"The Department of Mysteries - well." Arthur chuckled. "Can't tell you who's heading that up." He rubbed his hands together. "You know, that's the best part of this job. I always wanted to know what went on there. And I still don't, really, but at least I know…" He waved a hand and shook his head. "Never mind. The Department of Magical Justice -"
"I suppose Sirius will stay as Head of that?"
"Yes."
Remus tried not to be jealous. He really was pleased for Sirius. It was the job he deserved. "And Ron will be his deputy?"
Arthur shushed him immediately. "It's not official yet," he whispered. "Ron has no idea that he's going to have a title." He grinned. "I remember when I was officially promoted from my clerkship. It was thrilling."
Remus could only imagine.
"I only wish we had such capable wizards in every department. The Privy Council has elected a new Secretary, but the Department of Magical Transportation is sadly unsupervised, the Department of Magical Games and Sports - ever since Ludo Bagman ran off…"
Remus frowned out at the pitch. "Who's organizing the league, then? And keeping all this going?"
"Everyone that remains in that department, and they're working themselves to death. I suppose I'll have to promote one of them and let them hire on a few others, but none of them are quite what the Ministry…" Arthur sighed. "Well. You can't have everything. The Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures isn't in good shape, either."
"Isn't it?" Hermione had whirled in her seat to stare up at them, round-eyed, pink patches shining on her cheeks. "Do you need help, Mr. Weasley?"
"Hermione," said Arthur, laughing, "I would have offered you a job last year if you'd wanted it. Is that a department that interests you?"
Hermione bit her lips together for a moment. "Well, not the way it was run before," she said. "But I have a lot of ideas - is there a staff at all?"
"Almost none." Arthur ran a hand through his thinning hair. "Most of them, I'm sorry to say, are either dead or in Culparrat. It was… a very corrupt department."
"I know," Hermione said, looking furious. But she shook her head and focused herself. "I'd like to read through their files and things, if you'd let me. I still work for the Ministry, don't I? I'll just stay on as a Thinker until you decide where you need me - but can I read everything they left behind, can't I?"
"Everything?" Arthur smiled at her. "There are thousands of files -"
"That'll take her about a day," Ron called out carelessly. Remus wasn't sure how he could keep an ear on the match and Hermione all at once, but it seemed his brain was split in two equal parts. "Maybe a day and a half if she's feeling lazy."
Hermione grinned.
"We'll speak more about it on Monday, Hermione, if that's all right," Arthur said. "But I'd very much like to have your help."
Looking very pleased and proud, Hermione turned back to Ginny.
"Azkaban was such a drain on our time and resources," Arthur said, his eyes following the Bludgers as they were beaten at one player and then another. "It's… a relief to be concentrating on everything else." He smiled over at Remus. "Thank you for what you've done for Ginny," he said, keeping his voice low. Ginny was right in front of them.
"She did most of it herself," Remus began.
"No." Arthur shook his head. "None of us ever identified her abilities. You did that. And you taught her well enough that she earned nine N.E.W.T.s - when she never put a thought into test scores before. She always seemed to think that there was no point in trying for those kinds of achievements. Do you know how many O.W.L.s she..." Arthur laughed. "Well, I suppose it wasn't as bad as Fred and George, but it wasn't fantastic. You've got a gift with education - you seem to understand what they need. And you know the ins and outs of the administration process at Hogwarts - Britain's premiere institution for magical education. And you've kept teaching when most other teachers didn't have an opportunity to do it. You've taught every subject, and some that aren't even on the mandatory list. It's quite incredible, what you've done. And that's just in terms of school, isn't it? I haven't even gone into what I know of your leadership abilities, and your integrity, and your loyalty."
Remus wasn't sure what to do with all the compliments. "I… was a student once," he said haltingly. "I remember what I needed. That's really… all there is to it."
Arthur didn't answer. He followed the Quaffle with his eyes, sucked in a breath, and shook his head when it shot past Oliver again, to the despair of Ron, who dropped into his seat and moaned unhappily.
"The Department of Magical Education is in ruins, Remus," Arthur said, without looking at him. "Ruins. The Hogwarts governors who are still in place are easily influenced by money and power. You know that."
Remus wasn't sure where Arthur's speech was headed, but he felt his heart speeding up. He didn't dare to hope.
"I need a Head of department that I can trust to revise and enforce legitimate standards for magical education. Someone who won't be cowed by that board, or by the other private committees that have always been in place. I need someone who knows what's really necessary for children, and who really has the children in mind. Not himself. Or his paycheck."
Remus could hardly breathe.
"I know it's a lot to ask." Arthur blew out a breath. "But I hope you'll take the post, Remus. I've talked it over with Rose and the Privy Council, and we've had a look at other candidates, and though there are a few others who are interested in the position, none of them are as worthy of it as you."
The Snitch fluttered out. All around Remus, the stands burst into cheers so piercing that he should have been in pain - he should have covered his ears. But he couldn't even move.
"TAKE YOUR TIME DECIDING," Arthur shouted over the chaos. "I DON'T EXPECT YOU TO HAVE AN ANSWER NOW - OH, WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT -"
The Falcons Seeker had knocked Maureen Knight from her broom - she dangled by one hand, fifty feet above the pitch, while the fans screamed in terror. It was a minute before she was able to haul herself back onto her broom, and by the time she had, the Snitch had disappeared again. The fans on both sides gave a sigh of disappointment.
Arthur checked his watch. "Half six," he mused. "Molly'll have dinner ready by seven - ah well. Come on, boys. Time to go."
"But it's not over!" Adam protested. "Ron will bring us back - or Charlie!" The other boys murmured their agreement.
"I'll bring you back," said Arthur. "You can listen to the rest on the wireless."
"But -"
"But nothing. This isn't the last Quidditch match of the year, is it? There's still the World Cup Finals, and if you're good about this, I just might be able to manage a few tickets to that." Arthur clapped Remus on the shoulder as he stood. "Think about it," he said. "Come along, boys."
He led Adam and the rest of them out of the box, leaving Remus to sit, stunned, contemplating the opportunity that had just been given him.
Sirius wasted no time in coming to sit beside him. "Well?" he demanded. "What was that all about?"
Remus wasn't sure he could answer without his emotions getting the better of him. He swallowed hard and blinked even harder.
"Remus? Moony, are you all right?"
"You… you know the Department of Magical Education?" Remus asked faintly.
Sirius nodded, frowning.
"Where is its main office? In comparison with yours?"
Sirius gave him a wary look. "It's on the same corridor - why?"
Remus started to laugh. He ran a hand through his hair and watched the sky, where Oliver Wood was trying to fend off a Quaffle and a Bludger at the same time. He managed the Bludger and missed the Quaffle, and Remus tried to feel sorry about it. But he couldn't. He had just been handed a life. A real one, which had nothing to do with the lunar cycle.
"Well then," he said, still laughing as he met Sirius's bemused eyes. "It looks like we'll be seeing a lot more of each other."
*
It was eight o'clock. Hermione's neck was in pain. She rubbed it with both hands and tried to keep her eyes on the sky, but she had never had to watch Quidditch for four hours straight, and it was like torture. She just didn't care about it when it wasn't Harry and Ron. She never had. And it was going to be months before Ron recovered if the Cannons lost, which it looked like they were going to do. The score was seven hundred to five hundred, and the Falcons didn't look at all tired, while Oliver Wood was beginning to look fatigued.
Sirius and Remus had left the match at seven, and Rose Brown had gone home half-an-hour ago, when Cho had moved down to stand beside Charlie. Hermione wished that she could leave, but she knew what would happen if she tried it.
"Won't the Snitch come out again?" she complained softly. "Come on…"
"We don't want the bloody Snitch yet," Harry said, turning around so quickly that he nearly threw himself off balance. His eyes were glazed. "You're clever, you can prob'ly subtract, you know the Falcons're two hundred points ahead, so even if the Cannons caught the Snitch it wouldn't help them now!" He wagged a finger at her. "Try to understand," he commanded.
Ginny grabbed his outstretched hand and Harry's focus shifted.
"Hi," he said happily.
Ginny laughed. "Hi," she returned. "Want to come up here and sit by me?"
"NO!" Ron shouted. "HE STILL NEEDS TO BE THE S!"
Harry's eyes widened as though this was something he had entirely meant to do, and then had entirely forgotten. "The S!" he exclaimed. "That's right, that's right - give me th'paint! Who has the paint?"
Mick tossed it to him. Even intoxicated, Harry managed to catch it. He held it out to Ginny.
"Hold this for a minute?" he implored, and when she took it from him, Harry reached for the hem of his T-shirt and pulled it right over his head.
Hermione was shocked. She had never seen Harry so… out of his wits.
"YEAH!" Harry shouted, and flung his T-shirt out of the box and over the crowd. Below them, one of the Cannons fans caught it and looked up, confused, trying to work out where it had come from. "You can't see us!" Harry taunted, laughing. "This is great - where's that paint?" He turned around again and frowned at Hermione. "Where's Ginny?"
Hermione jabbed a thumb behind her, where Ginny had disappeared into the upper, darker corner of the half-empty box, paint in hand. Harry clambered unsteadily over the rows of seats in order to get to her, and Hermione didn't turn to watch them. Instead she pulled out her Omnioculars and focused on the match - but when a foul was called a moment later she grew bored and focused beyond the pitch, to the other side of the stands, where the Falcons supporters were sitting. She swept the Omnioculars across the crowd, wondering if she would recognize anyone.
A second later, she wished she hadn't looked. Her heart gave an uncomfortable, ugly wrench.
Malfoy was sitting in the center of a throng of important-looking people, his clothes and hair impeccable, his smirk implacable, his own Omnioculars - which looked much more advanced - held to his eyes as he scanned the pitch.
Hermione drew breath - her first impulse was to point Malfoy out to Ron and Harry - she lowered the Omnioculars and urgently tapped Ron's shoulder.
Ron turned around, reached up, grabbed her by the waist and looked up at her with his very silly orange and black striped face. "You're not leaving, are you?" he asked worriedly. "You can't leave - this is the best night of my - well, no - but it's close - you have to see it through to the end with me, you can't leave."
Hermione opened her mouth to tell him that Malfoy was across the way, but the words wouldn't come. Instead she put her hands in Ron's hair, bent down and gave a very soft kiss on the mouth, not minding too much that she could feel sticky paint coming off on her nose and chin.
"I'm not going anywhere," she murmured. "Unless it really does last five days."
Ron squeezed her waist and beamed up at her. "They don't have much of a lead, really," he said. "I've seen teams come back from far, far worse - they're going to win, Hermione. I feel it."
Hermione was very glad that she hadn't said anything about Malfoy, and that they were all invisible to Malfoy and all his friends. This night was important to Ron. He deserved to enjoy it without any interference.
"I'm sure they'll win," she said quietly, rubbing his head with her fingers and enjoying the feel of his thick hair in her hands. She hoped it wouldn't all fall out too soon. Ron closed his eyes and reached up his chin for another kiss, which Hermione was more than happy to give him. After all, the box was dark, and there was hardly anyone left in it, except for other absolute maniacs, who were all staring out at the pitch and paying no attention to -
"Aha!" Harry crowed, stumbling down over the seats and back towards the front row. He paused beside Hermione, pointed at her and Ron, and burst out laughing as though their kiss was the funniest thing that he had ever seen.
Hermione thought it strange that he should be making fun of them. Harry's torso was a mess of orange and black paint, which had been smeared all over him in no particular pattern - there was paint in his hair and on his face and all down the front of his trousers. And as Ginny took her seat beside Hermione again, it was hard not to notice that her hands were bright orange, and that there were tell-tale black streaks across her shirt and in her hair.
"Something funny, Potter?" Ron demanded, and then he scowled. "That's not an S."
Harry didn't seem able to stop laughing. "And that's not a Time-Turner," he managed, grabbing Hermione's left hand and peering at it. "It's too small…" His voice trailed off and he gaped at what he was seeing.
In a panic, Hermione tried to snatch her hand away, but Harry gripped hard, holding up her hand so that he could examine her engagement ring very closely.
"Oh," Hermione fretted. "Let go, Harry, I don't want anyone to see it, I forgot to charm it, I didn't realize we'd be here for so long -"
"Is this an engagement ring?" Harry asked, looking dumbfounded. "Is this supposed to mean you're getting married? To each other?"
Everyone who remained in the top box whirled around, their interest in the match apparently forgotten. They all stared at Hermione's hand. Ginny clapped her hands to her mouth.
"Ron!" George said, looking horrified. "Not you too!"
"Welcome to the rest of your miserable life, Ron," Fred said, grabbing Angelina's hand before she could smack him, and kissing the back of it.
"How…" Harry still held onto Hermione's hand. His eyes were full of hurt. "How could you not tell me?" he asked. "How come you didn't want me to see it?"
Hermione felt a stab of horrible guilt. "Oh, Harry, it wasn't that we didn't want to tell you-"
"I wanted to tell, you," Ron declared. "I said we ought to tell you no matter what, but Hermione said -"
"I wanted to wait until my parents could appreciate it, and tell them first," Hermione wailed, feeling worse every second, as Harry continued to gaze at her with lost and bewildered eyes. "Harry, please don't look like that! I've been dying to tell you - we both have."
Harry blinked. He let go of her hand and stared down at Ron. "You're getting married?" he asked. "Really? Are you serious?"
Ron licked his lips. He glanced at Hermione. And then he faced Harry and nodded. "You… you'll be our best man, won't you?" he asked, his voice a bit hoarse. Hermione knew it wasn't from all the screaming. "Won't you?" he repeated, when Harry didn't answer.
Harry seemed to be trying to focus. He shook his head, rubbed his temples, and finally snapped, "Do one of those Sobering Charms on me."
Ron did it so quickly that Harry had to grip Hermione's shoulder for support as his eyes became clear and his footing became sure. He left his hand on her shoulder and met her eyes with his very fierce green ones.
"Do you want me to be best man too?" he asked, almost inaudibly.
Hermione suddenly couldn't find her voice. "Well who else?" she managed, after a minute. "Who else but you?"
Harry's eyes glazed again, with something shocking and wet that Hermione had never seen in them before. He stared at her for another second, then practically leapt over the seats into the front row and stood facing Ron as the rest of them looked on.
"Of course I'll be your best man," Harry said scratchily. "I - I just can't believe -"
Before Hermione knew it, and much to her surprise, Ron and Harry were hugging like brothers. When they came apart, there was a funny noise like something unsticking, and not only did Harry not bear an S on his chest, but Ron's letter looked nothing like an N.
"Congratulations," Ginny whispered, kissing Hermione's cheek. "We'll be sisters - I always knew it, but it's so good to know it -"
Ginny hugged Hermione tightly and Hermione hugged her back. It wasn't the way she had envisioned the announcement of her engagement. It wasn't the dream she had held in her mind. But as everyone grabbed her and hugged her and told her how glad they were to have her in the family, Hermione knew there was no better way to get engaged. And it didn't matter that she was covered with paint by the end of the enthusiasm, because when everyone had taken their turn, Ron heaved her into his orange and black arms, lifted her over the seats, and gave her a kiss that made everyone cheer.
And then the whole stadium cheered all around them. Ron pulled his mouth away from hers, grabbed her hands and thrust them into the air.
"That's another goal for Chudley," he told her, turning her around in front of him, so that she faced the pitch. "I'm telling you, we're going to win."
Hermione leaned back against him and let him wave her arms about. The Cannons didn't matter - but if they were important to Ron…
"GO, CHUDLEY!" she shouted with all the voice she had left. And when she was seized around the middle and given a series of warm kisses on the side of her neck, she knew that she had got it right.
*
It was midnight. Harry didn't know if he could concentrate on the match much longer. But the score was 1,220 points to Falmouth, and 1,080 to the Cannons, and he knew he had to stay awake. Everyone had left for the night except for him, Ron, Hermione and Ginny, and everyone had promised to come back in the morning if the match was still on.
"One hundred and forty points down!" Ron said, gripping the railing tightly. "If they catch the Snitch now - if they catch the Snitch right now - come on, Knight, come on, keep an eye on it…"
Harry did want the Cannons to win. But he couldn't stand up anymore. He sat down beside Ginny, who had climbed into the front row again with the rest of them. She curled up against him, lay her head on his shoulder and sighed.
"Almost over…" she mumbled.
Harry hoped she was right. He felt a bit cold, and wished he hadn't been so stupid as to throw away his shirt. He wondered how he was going to walk out of the stadium without anyone seeing him shirtless. He'd have to buy a Cannons sweatshirt on the way out.
"When it's over," Ron said, still clinging to the railing, "we're all going to the Snout's Fair for a drink - Goldie made me promise."
Harry wasn't sure he really needed another drink. He was very glad they'd done the Sobering Charm on him, though being sober made it hard to forget that Ron and Hermione were engaged. To be married. It wasn't that it was surprising… but it was very, very strange. It seemed so adult.
Hermione sat down on his other side, saying something about her plans for the year. Harry thought she was asking him a question, but he couldn't quite hear her.
"What?" he asked her, staring up into the floodlit stadium sky and trying to predict the Chasers' formations as they rocketed around. He knew how tired they had to be, but he also knew that if he had been out there, then he would have been playing like them, just as hard as he needed to, for as long as it took.
"I said, didn't Dumbledore leave Fawkes to you?" Hermione repeated.
Harry registered the words with some surprise. He hadn't thought about that in a long time, and he tore his eyes away from the Chasers to look at Hermione.
"Yeah," he said. "Fawkes is… mine." It was a strange thing to say. It didn't feel quite right.
"Do you think you'll ever collect him?" Hermione asked. "Where would you put him, if you did?"
Harry wasn't sure. And he couldn't imagine collecting Fawkes, who seemed to belong in Dumbledore's office. Fawkes was as much a part of Hogwarts as the Sorting Hat. It would have been wrong, somehow, to take him away from his home just because it was legal to do so.
"I think he should stay at school," Harry said. "I'll take care of him when I go back." The words were out of Harry before he had time to ask himself what they meant.
"You're going back to Hogwarts?" Ron said, his eyes still on the sky. "What for?"
"I…don't know." Harry looked out over the shining pitch. "I just have a feeling I'll go back."
"To teach?" Hermione sounded excited. "I've thought about doing that. I'd love to do that, someday, when I've done a few other things I still want to try."
"It'd be great, wouldn't it." Ginny's voice was quiet.
Harry looked at her in surprise. "You want to teach?" he said. "I never knew that."
"I don't think I'd teach," she said, following the match with her tired eyes. "But I'd like to be Madam Pomfrey."
Harry couldn't help a smile. The boys at Hogwarts would certainly think of their school nurse much differently than he'd ever thought of his. He slipped his arm around her.
"Oh, you'd be so good at that!" Hermione sounded truly excited now. "Ron, wouldn't you want to go back?"
"Yeah," he said, and snorted. "I'll be Madam Hooch."
"No, that's my job," Harry said. "You'll teach Defense."
Ron glanced over his shoulder. "Harry, I think that's your departm -"
Harry interrupted, shaking his head. "You'll teach them how to break Imperius better than anyone ever could."
Ron looked away. His ears were pink. But he squared his shoulders and nodded. "Yeah, all right," he said, after a minute. "I could teach Defense." He gave a snort of unexpected laughter. "And Professor Granger can take over Trelawney's tower."
"Right," said Hermione, rolling her eyes. "Can't you just see me?"
"Throwing orbs at the poor little children? Yeah, I can see you."
"Ron, honestly. No, I want Transfiguration, definitely, if McGonagall ever gets tired of it. Oh - although I wouldn't mind running the library. Actually, I'd probably do best if I taught Arithmancy - that was my best subject - and I'd love to be head of Gryffindor House, too, because I think I could set a good ex-"
Ron thunked down beside her, threw an arm around her neck and clapped his hand over her mouth.
"It's settled then," Harry said, and though they were only playing around he had the strangest feeling that they weren't joking at all. "We'll go back in ten years or so. When we're ready."
A hush fell over the four of them in the loud Quidditch stadium.
"THE SNITCH IS OUT AGAIN!"
Ron made a noise like a Manticore having a seizure, and grabbed the package of Weasleys Ultimate Party Crackers from the seat where George had left them. He passed them out to Harry, Hermione and Ginny.
"Get ready!" he commanded. "It's going to happen. It's going to happen!"
They all jumped up, crackers in hand, and waited, watching, as Carmel Coyle and Maureen Knight headed for the Snitch, side by side.
At the same time, as if in slow motion, Harry saw the Falcons Chasers approaching the Cannons goal posts once more. They moved in perfect sync, using a strategy Harry was not familiar with. But Oliver didn't seem to notice their approach. His eyes, like everyone else's in the stadium, were fixed on Knight, watching her as she streaked towards the fluttering silver and gold ball.
"OLIVER!" Harry shouted, as though somehow his voice could carry that far. "LOOK OUT!"
Knight edged just ahead of Coyle and reached out her hand. At the same moment, one of the Falcons Chasers caught the Quaffle, took aim, and slung the red ball towards the far left hoop.
There was no way that Oliver could stop the ball from soaring past him. He noticed it a moment too late - he flung nearly his whole body from the broomstick and performed a reckless Starfish and Stick that made the whole crowd gasp, but it wasn't enough. The Quaffle escaped his outstretched fingers and made for the golden hoop.
"CATCH IT NOW!" Ron bellowed. "NOW, NOW, NOW -"
Knight's fingers closed around the Snitch.
The Quaffle flew through the goal hoops.
There was a moment of silence, in which both sides tried to discern exactly what had happened, and at what time. The referee blew his whistle and made several gestures that were difficult to interpret. Ron sucked in a breath and held it, waiting.
"AND MAUREEN KNIGHT CATCHES THE SNITCH HALF A SECOND BEFORE THE FALCONS SCORE AGAIN! THE CHUDLEY CANNONS HAVE WON THE CUP BY TEN POINTS!"
Ron fell into his chair, his eyes closed, his body slack. Harry was sure he had fainted.
"IT'S THEIR FIRST WIN IN OVER A CENTURY - AND LOOK AT THEIR CAPTAIN - HE'S PERFORMING HIS RITUAL CELEBRATORY MOVE - HE'S FLYING TOWARDS HIS SEEKER - HE'S GOING TO TRY TO HUG HER, AND WE ALL KNOW HOW THAT ALWAYS TURNS OUT…"
But instead of pushing him halfway down the pitch, as she usually did, Maureen Knight threw her arms around Oliver and kissed him. There was a blinding light as a thousand flashbulbs popped.
Hermione looked at her program for the first time in hours. "Well, that would be a personal reason to leave the team," she said.
Laughing, Ginny held her cracker over her head and yanked it at both ends. A bolt of orange light shot out of it and zoomed out into the sky. When it was right over the center of the pitch, it exploded in a burst of orange fireworks and zooming black cannonballs made of smoke. The crowd cheered.
Harry pulled his cracker next, and then Hermione did hers. They shook Ron awake, dragged him to his feet, and handed him one of his own. The four of them stood in the top box and set off fireworks until there were none left, cheering with all their might as the Cannons zoomed around the pitch in a victory lap and flew together in a massive, tangled hug.
Anything was possible, Harry thought, pulling the last cracker and watching it explode triumphantly in the sky. Anything at all.
