Chapter Sixty-one

Westernshakespeares said:

I would also change the rating. Incest, Teachers sleeping with students and bad song fiction writing, this story would also qualify as one of the dirtiest I have had the unfortunate experience of perusing.

I checked out the ratings rules, and it seems to fit under PG-13 rather than R. There aren't any explicit scenes (who says Snape and Pansy slept together? Maybe babies are made another way in the wizarding world), there is only implied swearing, and there is no incest. Harry is not Araminta's father. It's not my fault if people have dirty minds.

But, if you insist. I like to make people happy. Now I can add more romance, anyway.

Also, as a note to some other people, the rules of ffn say that you can't threaten or harass people. It says that you can publish stories here, but nowhere does it say that you have to read them. Or review them.

On Thursday, Harry came up to Araminta. His ears were red at the tips and he looked really nervous. "So, um, Araminta, have you heard about the Quidditch Ball?"

"Of course," said Araminta. "I've got my costume and everything. How about you?"

"Uh, yeah," said Harry. "So, you've probably heard that we can't ask people to be our dates, then."

"Oh, I guess I had heard that part," Araminta remembered out loud. "Because it's a costume party, right?"

"I wanted you to know," Harry continued, "that I would have asked you if it was allowed. And if you want, I'll tell you my costume."

Araminta stopped in her tracks. "Harry, I'd know you anywhere. Across space, across time, across all boundaries." She took his hand in hers. "I'll find you at the Ball, don't worry."

Harry grinned and leaned forward to kiss her on the cheek, but an owl flew in between them and dropped a large package into Araminta's arms.

"What's that?" Harry asked curiously.

"I ordered some potion ingredients and some jokes from Diagon Alley. I'd almost forgotten about them!" said Araminta. She opened the box and put the Fainting Fancies into her pocket.

Harry lifted the heavy box for Araminta and carried it back to her room for her. "So what is all of this stuff? It looks like you're going to make a love potion." He stopped in his tracks and his face fell. "Don't you know that I love you without potions?"

Araminta waved her hands. "No, no, it's not that at all! The love potion is for somebody else!"

Harry started smiling again. "Good, because I want you to know that I could never love anybody else..." He trailed off and looked worried. "Araminta, do you believe in prophecies? I mean, if someone makes one, do you think it has to come true?"

Araminta knew what he was talking about--he'd heard the elves telling Dumbledore about his foretold love in the arms of a Malfoy. "Yes, but sometimes not as we thought they would. For example, maybe what you think is going to happen isn't right. What if you didn't hear the whole thing, for example? Can you see how easy it would be to be wrong about the entire prophecy and then spend the rest of your life trying to avoid it, or even to make it come true?"

"Oh yeah!" Surprise and recognition lit Harry's face. "In fact, I know someone who heard a prophecy wrong, and wasted his life over it. Well, I'm not going to waste mine. I'm going to spend every possible moment I can with you."

Araminta giggled. "Okay. Here we are, at my room," she said, unlocking it with her key.

"Can I come in?" Harry asked.

"Well, I'll need you to carry that in for me," said Araminta, "so, yes."

Harry brought the package in and set it down. He looked at Araminta nervously, as if he were sure she would refuse. "And can I stay?"

"Of course." Araminta smiled and closed the door so they could have some privacy.

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