A/n: thank you to all that review! I'm glad you like the story and am open to suggestion!
small note- in chapter two, the sentence "He looked around his and Ron's room and spotted an elaborate frame" is incorrect. Harry is in Buckbeak's room, and looking at the hippogriff is what reminded him of Sirius, not the frame. Sorry I didn't catch this! -HiPa
C H A P T E R T H R E E
Once Ron was comfortably settled in bed, Harry began to fake a small coughing fit and excused himself for a glass of water. He crept, catlike, down the staircase and onto the first floor landing where Fred, George, Hermione, and Ginny's heavy footsteps shuffled cheerfully along. Harry pressed himself against the wall as the twins bade the girls goodnight.
They Disapparated away just as Hermione opened the door to her and Ginny's room, balancing what seemed to be a thick chunk of chocolate cake. Moving swiftly as a shadow, Harry allowed Hermione to step over the threshold before grabbing Ginny by the wrist and pulling her into the darkness.
He felt her tense beneath his grip—for one frightening second Harry thought she was about to scream.
Nothing could be farther from the truth.
Instead, Ginny sank her elbow brutally into Harry's stomach. He let out a large whoosh of air, backed into the wall, and clutched his ribs.
"Nice try, Fred, you—" Ginny halted in mid-sentence as she turned around and saw her attacker. Going Galleon-eyed and hands fluttering over her mouth, Ginny gave a kind of strangled whisper.
"Oh bloody hell! Harry, I'm so sorry, I thought you were Fred!"
"It's—it's okay," he said, massaging his abdomen. "I shouldn't have grabbed you like—like that, I just wanted to talk to you in pri—private…"
Ginny walked to him in concern. "Are you sure you're okay?"
"Yeah," he replied, attempting a smile that looked more like a grimace. "You can really pack one…"
"I've learned to be on my guard, living around here…" Ginny trailed off, looking at a shaft of moonlight filtering through a high window. She sat down next to Harry, who had settled on the floor.
"What did you want to talk about?" she asked. His stomach flip-flopped uneasily.
"Oh, yeah. Listen, I was kinda hoping you could help me out," he rubbed the back of his neck. Why was this so difficult?
"Sure. What do you need?" she said softly.
"This is gonna sound kind of odd, but, erm…you know Hagrid asked me to be his Best Man, and the job sort of requires me to be able to—well," he took a deep breath.
"I need you to teach me how to dance," he finished in a rush.
Ginny blinked at him. "You. Want me. To teach you…how to dance?"
"Yeah." Harry watched her with nerves comparable to those near the Yule Ball.
"But I can't dance!"
His jaw dropped. "Ginny!" he said hoarsely. "Of course you can dance, I just saw you!"
"That wasn't dancing!" argued Ginny. "I was just—"
"That's not on," interrupted Harry. "I saw you. You know how to move, what goes where, which foot to stomp and which wrist to flick. But besides that, you know how to do the one thing I've been wanting to do since the night when S—we went to the Ministry."
"What's that?" she asked, watching him closely.
"You know how to lose yourself completely. It's like—" Harry struggled, searching for words. "It's like you've—you've bottled freedom or something. Like you can pull it out whenever you need to escape."
"And you've been looking for an escape all this time." Ginny said. It was not a question, but a statement, a fact. "That was very poetic of you, by the way," she added on a laugh.
Harry smiled. He was not usually good with words. "So, will you help me? In secret, I mean. I don't really want Fred and George coming in and try to teach me to waltz."
"Okay," said Ginny in a final sort of way. Harry shifted his feet, ready to stand, but Ginny opened her mouth again. "But you have to do something for me in return."
"Name it."
"You have to help me practice for Quidditch tryouts. I'd ask Ron but there's this thing about family teaching you—it doesn't usually turn out for the best."
"Sure," said Harry. "But where can we go?"
Ginny frowned in concentration, looking very much like Ron in his times of thought. She stood up, cocked her head left and right as though looking for spies, and began to speak as if she and Harry were about to stage a jail break.
"We make headquarters in The Room of the Hippogriff at twenty-three hundred hours, discuss options and make plan of attack.
"But we musn't be caught. My creators will put me through extreme questioning, and their male offspring will find our arrangment amusing ."
"Capture is not an option," agreed Harry, feeling like one of those secret agents in Aunt Petunia's romance movies. Ginny bit her smirking lip and gripped the front of Harry's pajamas.
"There is one sacrifice you must make. Can you handle it?"
Harry fought to keep a straight face. "Sir, yes sir!"
She looked him square in the eye. "You must promise not to fall in love with me," she finished, shaking with silent laughter. Harry willed himself not to chortle. It would kill the moment.
"It shall be done, General."
"Good luck to you then, Mr. Potter," whispered Ginny, pointing up the staircase, a hysterical smile on her face as she fought to keep from laughing.
Harry, a wide grin on his face, puffed out his chest, mock-saluted, and slinked away. He heard Ginny give a snort as she opened the door.
Hermione was in bed, pretending to read a large book. Ginny looked around the room, still fit to burst into giggles.
"Hermione!"
"Wha?" came her muffled reply from behind leather and parchment.
"What happened to the cake?"
Hermione pulled the book away from her chocolate-smeared face and said, "Wha' cake?"
Ginny fell onto her bed, doubled up laughing, and threw Hermione a napkin. "This is why it's important to chew your food."
Once Ron was comfortably settled in bed, Harry began to fake a small coughing fit and excused himself for a glass of water. He crept, catlike, down the staircase and onto the first floor landing where Fred, George, Hermione, and Ginny's heavy footsteps shuffled cheerfully along. Harry pressed himself against the wall as the twins bade the girls goodnight.
They Disapparated away just as Hermione opened the door to her and Ginny's room, balancing what seemed to be a thick chunk of chocolate cake. Moving swiftly as a shadow, Harry allowed Hermione to step over the threshold before grabbing Ginny by the wrist and pulling her into the darkness.
He felt her tense beneath his grip—for one frightening second Harry thought she was about to scream.
Nothing could be farther from the truth.
Instead, Ginny sank her elbow brutally into Harry's stomach. He let out a large whoosh of air, backed into the wall, and clutched his ribs.
"Nice try, Fred, you—" Ginny halted in mid-sentence as she turned around and saw her attacker. Going Galleon-eyed and hands fluttering over her mouth, Ginny gave a kind of strangled whisper.
"Oh bloody hell! Harry, I'm so sorry, I thought you were Fred!"
"It's—it's okay," he said, massaging his abdomen. "I shouldn't have grabbed you like—like that, I just wanted to talk to you in pri—private…"
Ginny walked to him in concern. "Are you sure you're okay?"
"Yeah," he replied, attempting a smile that looked more like a grimace. "You can really pack one…"
"I've learned to be on my guard, living around here…" Ginny trailed off, looking at a shaft of moonlight filtering through a high window. She sat down next to Harry, who had settled on the floor.
"What did you want to talk about?" she asked. His stomach flip-flopped uneasily.
"Oh, yeah. Listen, I was kinda hoping you could help me out," he rubbed the back of his neck. Why was this so difficult?
"Sure. What do you need?" she said softly.
"This is gonna sound kind of odd, but, erm…you know Hagrid asked me to be his Best Man, and the job sort of requires me to be able to—well," he took a deep breath.
"I need you to teach me how to dance," he finished in a rush.
Ginny blinked at him. "You. Want me. To teach you…how to dance?"
"Yeah." Harry watched her with nerves comparable to those near the Yule Ball.
"But I can't dance!"
His jaw dropped. "Ginny!" he said hoarsely. "Of course you can dance, I just saw you!"
"That wasn't dancing!" argued Ginny. "I was just—"
"That's not on," interrupted Harry. "I saw you. You know how to move, what goes where, which foot to stomp and which wrist to flick. But besides that, you know how to do the one thing I've been wanting to do since the night when S—we went to the Ministry."
"What's that?" she asked, watching him closely.
"You know how to lose yourself completely. It's like—" Harry struggled, searching for words. "It's like you've—you've bottled freedom or something. Like you can pull it out whenever you need to escape."
"And you've been looking for an escape all this time." Ginny said. It was not a question, but a statement, a fact. "That was very poetic of you, by the way," she added on a laugh.
Harry smiled. He was not usually good with words. "So, will you help me? In secret, I mean. I don't really want Fred and George coming in and try to teach me to waltz."
"Okay," said Ginny in a final sort of way. Harry shifted his feet, ready to stand, but Ginny opened her mouth again. "But you have to do something for me in return."
"Name it."
"You have to help me practice for Quidditch tryouts. I'd ask Ron but there's this thing about family teaching you—it doesn't usually turn out for the best."
"Sure," said Harry. "But where can we go?"
Ginny frowned in concentration, looking very much like Ron in his times of thought. She stood up, cocked her head left and right as though looking for spies, and began to speak as if she and Harry were about to stage a jail break.
"We make headquarters in The Room of the Hippogriff at twenty-three hundred hours, discuss options and make plan of attack.
"But we musn't be caught. My creators will put me through extreme questioning, and their male offspring will find our arrangment amusing ."
"Capture is not an option," agreed Harry, feeling like one of those secret agents in Aunt Petunia's romance movies. Ginny bit her smirking lip and gripped the front of Harry's pajamas.
"There is one sacrifice you must make. Can you handle it?"
Harry fought to keep a straight face. "Sir, yes sir!"
She looked him square in the eye. "You must promise not to fall in love with me," she finished, shaking with silent laughter. Harry willed himself not to chortle. It would kill the moment.
"It shall be done, General."
"Good luck to you then, Mr. Potter," whispered Ginny, pointing up the staircase, a hysterical smile on her face as she fought to keep from laughing.
Harry, a wide grin on his face, puffed out his chest, mock-saluted, and slinked away. He heard Ginny give a snort as she opened the door.
Hermione was in bed, pretending to read a large book. Ginny looked around the room, still fit to burst into giggles.
"Hermione!"
"Wha?" came her muffled reply from behind leather and parchment.
"What happened to the cake?"
Hermione pulled the book away from her chocolate-smeared face and said, "Wha' cake?"
Ginny fell onto her bed, doubled up laughing, and threw Hermione a napkin. "This is why it's important to chew your food."
Whoop, thurr it is! Hope it was at least an A-level in O.W.L standards. Did I pass the test? Let me know in a review, cuz things just started gettin good!
Hurry! Before they come to take me awaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy………
HiPa loves you!