A/n: sorry I haven't updated in awhile. I hit a sort of writer's block with this chapter…

C H A P T E R E I G H T
 "Erm…what?" Harry asked, utterly bemused.
"You heard me," Ginny said.
"No, I did, I'm not denying it," Harry continued, "I'm just positive I heard the wrong thing."
"Get out of it, Potter," she snapped, tossing the skirt at his head. "Go on and change."
Harry stayed resolute, arms crossed. "You're not wearing a skirt," he pointed out.
"Yes, but my hips know how to move. Yours need as much…assistance as necessary."
"I'm not wearing it," he spat firmly, glaring at Ginny. She glared right back.
"No one's going to see you! It's just us here…think of it as a kilt," she encouraged.
"I won't," Harry insisted. Ginny came to stand before him. Even though she was at least half a foot shorter, she spoke in a steely tone like Molly Weasley's when she scolded her sons.
"You get upstairs and put that on, or the deal's off and that's a promise."
Harry bit his lip. He couldn't let Hagrid down. Finally, he sighed.
"Fine!"

After five minutes of battling with the stretchy cloth (and his pride), Harry slumped back downstairs, where Ginny was positioning a record onto the player. Her back still to him, Ginny said in a very knowing voice,
"Drop those jeans, Potter."

He groaned and undid his pants, dumping them on the nearest stair. He chose to ignore the fact that a pleasant little breeze now fluttered about his thighs. Music started to play and Ginny turned round.
"You're a big Quidditch man; you know what strategy to use in what situation. You think about every move before doing it. Now, I want you to close your eyes, relax, and listen."

Harry did so, wondering where this was going.
"Take all those rationalisms, all those thoughts, strategies…and throw them out the window."
He heard Ginny's heels coming closer.
"The first rule of dancing is…don't think. Feel. Move." She put her hands on his hips and pushed them to the side, making them swerve. Though shocked, Harry didn't open his eyes.
"Now's probably a good time to tell you; there's not much personal space in dancing. Oh, and the second rule," she breathed, "is there are no more rules. Because all rules are made to be broken."

Harry was now a bit confused, but kept his mouth shut.
"Open your eyes."
She swerved his hips again.
"Notice the movement of the skirt. If it swirls like that, your hips are moving too much. Only girls swivel; boys are more about footwork," she finished, turning to look at him.
"Don't worry, it's not as hard as you think it'll be….Now, I'm going to teach you a very simple dance. Simple, but formal…" Ginny lifted a finger towards the record player, made a stirring motion, and the record began to play from the beginning.

She took Harry's hands. "Hand positioning—one is palm to palm with your partner's, thumbs crossed, their fingers resting along the gap between your thumb and index; the other hand is on their spine, almost to the tailbone. The girl's free hand will either be on your back or shoulder."

Harry shifted his hand between Ginny's shoulder blades. She frowned, and slowly guided his hand to the small of her back. Harry's throat went dry.
"Relax. For this dance, every step you take, I will follow. So, take one step forward."
He moved his right foot. Ginny stepped backwards with her left.
"Good." He sighed with relief. "Now, sort of brush your other foot so that there's about five inches of space between both your feet."
Harry slid his left toes across the carpet.
"Excellent. The final thing you need to learn for this dance is the pattern. All you do is move in a box shape. Whatever foot drags will step next. So that's one—two—three—OUCH!"
"Sorry, Ginny!" exclaimed Harry, dropping her hand as though scalded, for he had just driven his foot into her shin.
"It's all right, Harry," she replied, massaging her leg. "Let's try again."
Harry positioned his hands in the appropriate places and began to count.
"One—" right step, drag,
"Two—" to the left, step, drag,
 "Three—" top right, step, drag,
"Four—" back left, step, drag…

"You've got it, Harry," Ginny said, smiling at him. "Let's go a bit faster. Listen to the music…" Harry heard a string orchestra playing a waltz ; Ginny sang along to it,
"La lada da dam, bum bum, bum bum, Lada da da dam…the count for a waltz is one-two-three, one-two-three, one-two-three…and you want to step on each 'count one'…Got it?"
"I think so," said Harry, a bit unnerved by the speed of the count.
"Okay, ready? And one-two-three-one-two-three-one-two-three…"

Harry stepped off, stumbling a bit at first, but slowly and surely mastering the count.
"Harry, look up," Ginny whispered nearly half an hour later; he stopped watching his feet and gazed at her. Miraculously, they were still moving in perfect time. He was waltzing!
 "I'm—I'm doing it! I'm really doing it!"
"Yeah!" she cried, beaming.
Harry swooped her into a hug. "Yes, yes, yes!"

"Let's celebrate!" Ginny shouted, running to the player and switching records. "You can get out of that skirt," she added, waving her hand at his jeans on the stairs as a fast salsa beat pulsed throughout the room. They flew into Harry's arms.
"Ginny, how—"
"Do you dance this? I'll show you, but put your jeans on first. That skirt is kind of scaring me on you."

Wondering how Ginny could command objects without a wand, he put both legs into the pants, slipped them up, zipped, buckled, and pulled off the skirt. Ginny took it from him and put it on over her shorts.

"Salsa is really quite simple. You dance what you feel. You dance like nobody's watching."
She began to dance in front of Harry, her skirt billowing out behind her. He was entranced by the movement of her body, how her every curve drank in the music, lived off it. Ginny took his hand and held it high above her head so he could spin her.

Their fingers intertwined, Harry closed his eyes and allowed himself to get lost in the rhythm. Allowed himself not to care how silly he probably looked, not care about his past, what people thought, what tomorrow would bring—but care only about this moment, celebrate it, dance like nobody was watching so he could become someone he barely knew.

Become Harry. Just Harry.

a/n: longer because the last chapter was shorter. I don't claim to be a dance instructor or know anything about dance. I just know that it's a wonderful feeling to dance like nobody's watching. I highly recommend you lock yourself in your room, put on a song that makes you feel like dancing, and do what you feel. Seriously! I want reviews telling me you did this! lol.

Review b/c HiPa loves you!