Disclaimer: It all belongs to J. K. Rowling. I own nothing, for I simply borrow things.
Chapter Three
She was not going to wear her old robes. They were gorgeous... the way the embroidered burgundy hem brushed her ankles... and the way they hugged in her in just the right places... not to mention the fact that they also complimented her hair and complexion quite nicely.
Ginny sighed and fell backward onto her bed. It was no use. This ball was too much for her – her stomach writhed at the thought of seeing Harry. And yet... some small part of her wanted to look stunning when she came walking – no, sweeping through the Great Hall's double doors. She wanted to look pretty and confident... as though leaving Harry had no effect on her whatsoever.
But looking beautiful was only the half of it. Harry would want to talk to her... and if Ginny was true to herself, she wanted to talk to him as well. Not just small talk, but a real conversation.
Someone knocked on her door.
Come in. Ginny's voice was muffled under her pillow.
The door didn't open. Are you decent?
Ginny smiled slightly. Ron, whatever happened to you barging into my room, without thought to whether I was dressed or not?I married Hermione!
Ginny laughed, rolling sideways of her bed to open the door.
You know, said Ron, stepping into her room and grinning, I do sort of miss just coming in here without knocking... What do you want, Ron? Ginny tried to appear annoyed, but for some reason, felt suddenly fond of her brother.
Oh, you know... Ron shrugged and sank into a chair by her desk. His hair was rumpled from Quidditch, and there was dirt stains on his shirt. Hermione's gone back to the house. I just thought I'd say hello and ask whether - I'm going to the ball? Ginny asked amusedly, her hand on her hip.
Er – yeah, he answered. His eyes were worried. Look, Gin, I know Hermione is real persistent and all, but if you don't want to see Harry tonight and... I don't know, I guess I'm just saying you don't have to go if you're not ready.
Ginny turned back to her dress robes and folded them up. Well, thank you for your consideration, Ron. But I, she magicked the robes to a shelf in her closet, will be going. It's been a while since I've gone out, anyway.
It was easy to lie. She'd had a whole life of practice at it, with six older brothers in the house, and her parents. The only people who had ever been able to see right through her were Dumbledore, Hermione and... Harry.
Trying desperately to sound casual, Ginny asked, Do you even see Harry anymore?
Ron looked at her, his expression unreadable. Yeah, sometimes. Ginny nodded.
There was a long pause in the room.
Well, I'd better go... said Ron quietly, heading toward the door.
As he turned the door nob, Ginny spoke. Her voice was soft; it had a hint of sadness to it.
Ron – I... if I decide not to go to this ball, and I'm not promising anything... but if I don't go, and Harry is there... will you tell him something from me?
Ron watched her, his brow furrowed. Sure, what?
There was another short pause.
Tell him I say hello.Oh my, this really is a pleasure! Simply marvelous... the Harry Potter, in this very shop! It's an honour to meet you, sir...
Harry smiled slightly and nodded at the woman flitting around him. He was in Gladrag's Wizardwear being fitted for a pair of dress robes. His old ones had gotten rather short, and it was about time he'd bought new ones. The woman fitting him, however, was definitely more eager about the whole thing than he was.
He glanced at his watch. Half past eight.
Excuse me, madam... I'm in somewhat of a hurry – there's somewhere I need to be at nine – Of course, of course! I wouldn't dream of making Harry Potter late for any sort of appointment – can you imagine how people would talk? The woman laughed nervously, her earrings swinging forward.
Harry nodded again, unable to think of anything to say. He really disliked the attention he received for who he was... and to his disappointment, it only intensified after Voldemort's defeat. He sighed slightly, barely noticing a pair of scissors trim the hems of his sleeves.
After another fifteen minutes or so, the witch declared, rather proudly, There you are, Mr. Potter! It's the finest work I've done yet – though, and she leaned in close, as though afraid of being overheard, I really did it for you. You deserve the absolute best, Mr. Potter!
Harry smiled at her, wishing she would stop saying his name so often.
He turned to look in the mirror.
Someone he did not know blinked back at him. His reflection... well, he had to say, he did look quite good. The robes were long and deep green, almost black. A wonderful embroidery of moons and stars patterned the hems, but it was simply the cut of the robes that impressed Harry the most. He was... refined... his shoulders seemed wide. And the the skinniness that he seemed to have always possessed, was gone. He looked, instead, to be slender and tall, with a handsome air he'd not expected.
What did I tell you? the witch cried happily, as Harry stood gaping at his reflection.
Is this mirror charmed? Harry asked, slightly suspiciously.
The witch let out a peal of squeaky, high-pitched giggles.
With a sense of humour like that, Mr. Potter, she said breathlessly, clutching her side, You'll be sure to catch any woman's eye! Surely... there must be someone? Her eyes widened in curiosity.
Harry lied, but a sudden panic bubbled inside him. What if Ginny was going to the ball?
Then you should pay for these robes and hope the woman's right, shouldn't you? said a small voice in the back of his head.
Smiling again, Harry handed the witch a handful of galleons.
The decorations in the Great Hall were stunning as usual. The ceiling reflected a sultry, starry night sky, while the walls shimmered slightly against the torch light. The floor was set up quite like it had been at the Yule Ball, so many years ago. A series of small, private tables clustered on the right side of the room, clearing space for the dance floor.
Minerva McGonnagal, for one, was proud. She, as well as the rest of the staff, had worked very hard the last four years to rebuild Hogwarts. They had restored it to the perfection it was before the war; the Great Hall had been repaired completely, down to the stain glass windows. Every staircase was back to normal, or as normal as a Hogwarts staircase could ever be. As for the grounds outside the castle – they were as picturesque and beautiful as ever, perhaps even more so.
This ball had been her idea. She sent the invitations to every student who had finished school the year of the Last War, telling them they were welcome to attend a reunion celebration. The truth was, however, that Minerva wished to congratulate, publicly, the heroes of the war. Though few knew, she had the ceremony entirely arranged to award all those who had struggled against the corruption of Lord Voldemort.
Albus would have wanted it, she thought, her thin mouth curving into something that might have been a smile.
The first guest was Hermione Granger, in robes of pale yellow, closely followed by Ron Weasley. Ron looked slightly hassled.
Hermy, I don't see why we needed to arrive so early - And I don't see why you insist on calling me Hermy, Hermione whispered furiously, dragging Ron steadily along toward a group of professors.
Because it annoys, love, Ron said, giving her a devilish sort of half-grin.
Hermione glared at him. You know, it's a wonder you're still alive after all this time. I should have killed you by now – oh hello, Professor McGonnagal!
McGonnagal strode toward the two, a rare smile gracing her features. Miss Granger – or should I say, Mrs. Weasley?
Hermione blushed, but twisted her fingers through Ron's all the same. Please, Professor, it's been so long... you can call me Hermione, if you like.
McGonnagal nodded, her eyes displaying an uncharacteristic twinkle. Of course. And if it suits, you may call me Minerva.
Hermione beamed. Thank you... Minerva.
Ron looked slightly bored at this exchange, but was careful to hide his expression from the old professor. He broke away from Hermione, as she chatted gaily to McGonnagal about work with the ministry, and made his way to a table laden with beverages. To his pleasure, there was a large quantity of mead.
The other guests arrived shortly afterward, and in no time at all, the room seemed to be swarming with old faces. There was Neville, with Luna Lovegood – and Seamus, hand in hand with Lavender Brown. Ron sank into a chair beside Hermione, sipping slowly on his mead.
Ron and Hermione both turned.
Harry was standing behind them, in magnificent robes of dark green. The crowd in the room seemed taken by his presence; whispers and furtive looks were exchanged. Ron stood, and found that Harry was nearly his height.
Good Lord, you've gotten tall! Ron exclaimed, clapping Harry jovially on the back.
I suppose... Harry watched him for a moment. It's been a while, hasn't it?
Ron frowned. Five months, mate.
Harry shrugged slightly, dropping into a chair.
I'm really glad you've decided to come, Hermione started, ignoring the stares they were now receiving from a group of girls a table near them. Hermione turned to Ron. Have you seen Ginny?
Harry stared steadily at a spot on the tablecloth.
I think she's coming, Ron said quietly, watching Harry apprehensively.
Harry stood. Excuse me, I'm going to get a drink.
As he left, the group of staring girls left their seats to follow him.
She might not be coming? Hermione demanded.
Well, I dunno... she wasn't too thrilled when I spoke to her.She can't not come, Hermione said, shaking her head. I'll make her come, I'll march right into the Burrow and - That won't be necessary, Ron said, leaning back on his chair.
She's here now.
Ginny had just swept into the hall, looking as if she'd stepped right out of a fairytale. Her hair hung in fiery ringlets down her back, contrasting to the vivid white of her robes. Her robes were full and fitted, they appeared to be more of a dress than anything. She gazed around the hall, then spotted Ron and Hermione.
Just before she reached their table however, her eyes focused on another spot in the room, and she stopped completely. Hermione looked around, and saw Harry talking to the group of girls who had followed him. He was grinning and laughing. Hermione, Ron and Ginny watched as one girl, a pretty, dark-haired one, brushed her fingers along Harry's arm. Her face was close to Harry's, as she whispered in his ear.
Hermione's eyes widened. Ginny started to walk very slowly backwards. Ron seemed to have forgotten all about his mead, it was beginning to tip into his lap.
Before anything else could happen, before any of them even saw Harry react, Professor McGonnagal stood up at her table, calling attention.
It is an honour to have you all here tonight, I want to thank you for coming. There are many things to be said – but as an old, and very dear friend of mind would have reminded – this is not the time for it. Now is the time... for feasting.
As she said this, menus appeared at every table.
Thank you again for coming, she said, sitting back down.
Hermione swiveled back to the scene before her, but couldn't see Harry, or any of the girls he'd been speaking with. Ron started flipping through his menu.
You're lucky I came, a voice said beside her.
Ginny had settled herself into a chair at the table. She seemed oddly composed.
Hermione nodded, but leaned close to her, speaking in low tones. You saw that, didn't you? With Harry? Look, whatever was happening, I'm sure Harry wouldn't - Oh, I know nothing happened, nor will anything happen, Ginny said loftily, picking up a menu and grazing her eyes over the choices. That was Parvati Patil he was with just now.Parvati – ? Hermione looked confused. Are you sure? It didn't look - It was, said Harry, slipping into a chair opposite them. He was gazing at Ginny, a melancholy gleam in his eye.
Hello, Harry, Ginny spoke, though the words were barely audible. Ginny cursed herself mentally – what happened to being cool and calm?
he murmured back.
They looked at each other for a long moment. Hermione pretended not to notice. Ron was either pretending, or he really didn't notice – he was too distracted by a pile of roast potatoes.
The rest of dinner was much of the same; Harry and Ginny barely said two words to each other, though their eyes spoke so much more. Hermione seemed frustrated at the lack of conversation, she made attempts at more talk, but was quickly put out. Ron, on the other hand, appeared to be escaping the tension by eating as much possible.
When McGonnagal finally stood up again, it was a major relief to everyone at the small table.
That was an excellent feast, I'll be sure to thank the house-elves, McGonnagal said, and her gaze seemed to fall upon Hermione. Hermione grinned, blushing. We have music - a band of instruments without players appeared near the dance floor so I suggest we all enjoy ourselves for the time being!
There was a joyful murmur through the crowd, and many couples ascended toward the floor. Ron grinned at Hermione and took her hand, leaving an awkward Harry and Ginny at the table alone.
Well... this is nice, isn't it? Ginny said, feeling like an idiot.
Yes, they've done a good job, Harry replied.
There was another long silence. Ginny opened her mouth to comment on the food when a small woman, with her hair twisted into a bun, approached them.
Excuse me. She seemed rather nervous. Mr. Potter, sir – would you, I mean, do you want to dance?
Harry automatically looked around at Ginny, as though expecting her to answer.
The girl looked startled. Oh, my! I'm sorry – this must be you're date... I'm sorry. She looked lost for a moment, then hurried off in the opposite direction.
No, no – miss! But the woman had vanished. Harry was left standing, his arm slightly out-stretched.
For the slightest sliver of a moment, Ginny thought, Harry looked rather lost himself.
He turned back to the table slowly.
Sympathy was reigning in Ginny's heart. She scooped up her goblet haphazardly, and drained the rest of it in one fell swoop. She had the sudden desire to get very, very drunk.
A strained silence and six glasses of firewhisky later, Harry finally cleared his throat.
He paused. He hadn't called her Gin in months. he began again.
Ginny gazed up at him, her eyes seemingly overlarge, but gorgeously brown in the candlelight. Harry found he was having trouble concentrating.
Want to go – go for a walk?
Ginny stared at him for a second, blinked heavily, then smiled. Yes, as a matter of fact, I would.
Harry tried not to notice the thick smell of whiskey on her breath.
He took her hand gently as he helped her out of her seat. She seemed both giggly and sleepy. And Harry found he didn't mind at all; she had let her guard down – making him feel more comfortable around her than he had in ages.
They made their way around the dancing couples, and through the doors leading to the gardens. With decorative fairies in the bushes and fountains scattered along the cobblestone pathway, Harry was reminded forcibly of his fourth year, and the Yule Ball.
Ginny was standing slightly apart from Harry, and he had the sudden desire to touch her arm, touch any part of her really, just to be sure she was really there. But just as he'd darted out a tentative hand toward her hair, Ginny sank onto a stone bench. She smiled up at him, oblivious to Harry's gesture.
It's nice out here isn't it? Ginny said, her smile still lingering. It all looks very familiar. Why's that? You know, Bill told me this story once about deja vu, and how it all came around because some wizard had cast a very powerful spell over a town, and the people ended up doing things, and then forgetting them – or was it they forgot things first, and then did them? Anyway, the wizard -
She was rambling. Harry thought she was beautiful. And it was killing him, because he knew he couldn't tell her anything even vaguely important while she was in this state. She wouldn't remember a bit of it.
But it was worth a try.
Ginny - Well, of course, they couldn't take the spell off after that! So... Her gaze focused on Harry. I - Something was sticking in his throat. What was he supposed to say? What would anyone say after all these years?
Look, Ginny, this isn't easy, not in the slight - Do you hear that? Ginny's ear was craning toward the entrance to the Great Hall.
Harry paused and listened. Someone, McGonnagal perhaps, had magnified their voice and was saying something to the group in the hall.
Come on! Ginny leaped up and took his hand, dragging him past flickering rose bushes and sparkling fountains.
Harry tried to say, but she didn't stop. Harry didn't care about what was happening in the hall – this was his moment to tell her how he felt.
He might not get another chance.
They arrived in the Great Hall and Harry was astounded to find every face turned toward him. A slow applause began to echo around the room.
Wha - Harry stared bewilderedly around.
Mr. Potter, up here, if you please! McGonnagal called over the crowd.
As he was ushered forward by a few people he didn't know, a camera flashed in his face. Harry had blinked away little white lights in time to see Colin Creevey grin excitedly at him. For the Prophet, Harry!
When he finally reached the front of the hall, McGonnagal smiled somewhat proudly down at him. Her eyes looked uncharacteristically misty.
The true purpose of this banquet was to allow all those who fought for their friends, their family, and for the good of human-kind in the Last War, a reward. We owe a great amount of our gratitude to many in this hall – but we owe perhaps the greatest of all to you, Mr. Potter.
Harry felt the cameras flash again. Someone moved beside him, and he turned to see Ron and Hermione smiling encouraging at him.
We cannot begin to count the times you saved wizard-kind, as well as muggle, from peril, McGonnagal continued. Harry opened his mouth to protest that it wasn't just him, when she added, And you're modesty, of course has always been just as high on your list of priorities.
Harry grinned somewhat reluctantly, his heart fluttering at all the eyes on him.
The crowd laughed lightly and Ron rested a hand on his shoulder.
We can only hope, McGonnagal said, opening a small box at the table beside her and brining out a glinting piece of jewelry, that you will accept this as a token of our undying appreciation, love, and everlasting gratitude toward you.
She clasped it around his neck. Harry's breathing was shallow.
It is charmed heavily with protection charms and spells. We felt it was the least we could do – you see, Mr. Potter, it is now our rightful duty to protect you, as well as everyone who fought on the side of light.
The crowd broke into furious applause; some even seemed to be in tears.
Harry, however, had been drawn away from all that. He didn't hear McGonnagal calling more names, didn't feel the many hands on his back, or continued applause as he stepped heavily back toward the crowd. He paid no attention to any of these things, for something entirely different, entirely as special – as beautiful, amazing, was gazing at him.
Ginny was staring at him with a look in her eyes that made Harry's heart pound in his ears, his breath stop short, and his mouth go suddenly dry. It was exactly the sort of look that made one feel, inevitably, that nothing was wrong in the world.