Disclaimer: Don't own anything, including the title of this bit, which belongs to the Beatles.
PART FIVE: ALL TOGETHER NOW
Chapter One:
There was silence, and then Hermione turned to Harry, pointed at his throat, and said, "Lingua Franca There, now you can understand everything."
Too happy to speak, Ginny threw her arms around Harry, and to her surprise, he hugged her back.
"HEY, Gin...how you doing?"
She pulled back and smiled up at him. "I was so worried! After what Hermione said...I thought you'd be killed." She noticed a sudden grim look on his face, and said, softly, "What's wrong?" He shook his head.
"Later."
She then attacked Ron. "Ron! Are you all right? Did you get caught by the war?" He grinned and returned her hug.
"Nah, 'Mione came and got me before it did. You worry too much. How about you--is there a war on here?"
"Not yet," broke in Sophia, "but there may be a war if two men are discovered in my chamber. Do you think that you might be a little quieter? And, in the course of being quieter, do you think that you could explain to me WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?"
"Ah. Yes, of course," said Ginny, "Sophia, these are my friends from school, Hermione, Ron, and Harry. This is my friend here, Sophia di Capella."
"Any friend of Ginny's," Harry said with a broad smile on his face, sticking out his hand.
As Sophia's eyes narrowed, and as the words "who's Ginny" began to form on her lips, there was a sudden sharp cry from Ron.
"'Mione!" They turned to see Hermione slide noiselessly to the floor in a faint, caught in the nick of time by Ron.
"It was too much for her," he said worriedly. "She'll need to rest for awhile before she can do it again."
"Do what?" Ginny asked concernedly.
"Summon a Temporal, and persuade it to do what she wants. It's practically impossible...luckily, she read the theoretical papers this summer," he said, shaking his head--though whether it was in consternation or admiration was impossible to say.
A throat was cleared behind them, and the three wizards left standing turned to see Sophia, tapping her foot.
"Ahem."
In the end, they had to tell her everything. The wizarding world, Voldemort, the future--all of it. After she'd seen them falling from the sky, the only other option would have been a Memory Charm, which was actually no longer an option due to the fact that they presently needed Sophia's help--she was the only one who really knew how Venice worked, and the right lies to tell about how the three had gotten there. She gave them suitable clothing and smuggled them out of her house and to the harbor. From there, she told them to catch a gondola to the di Carapaccio mansion, and say that the ship had gotten in early, and that Hermione had collapsed from exhaustion on the trip. Which isn't so far from the truth, Ron thought grimly.
Upon arrival at the di Carapaccio house, Ginny ushered them in and made much of them.
"Oh, my dear friends, I'm so glad you could come!" she exclaimed loudly, eyeing her "father's" study door. "You must come and meet my father--but what is wrong with poor Hermione?"
"Ah--" said Ron rather self-consciously, "The trip exhausted her. I'm afraid she must be put to bed."
"Oh, by all means!" Ginny said, beckoning to a maid, "Maria, show Lord d'Oiseau where Lady Hermione's chamber is."
"Of course, my Lady," Maria murmured, bobbing her head, "This way, my Lord." She led Ron off to one side.
"Now, my Lord de Poter, you must meet my father," Ginny announced loudly. "Of course, my Lady..." He trailed off in confusion as he realized that he didn't know Ginny's name here.
"Beatrice," she mouthed at him.
"Beatrice! Of course, my Lady Beatrice!" he yelled quickly. "I would be delighted and honored to meet your cherished father!"
"Come then, and greet him," Ginny continued at the top of her lungs, at which point the steward stuck his head out of the study door irritably.
"Lord di Carapaccio says to come in already and stop making all of this racket."
He eyed Harry's shoes. "And don't tread mud on the carpet."
Sheepishly, the two of them went in.
"Father," said Ginny, "This is the Lord Harold de Poter, the brother of my dearest friend at school, the Lady Hermione de Poter."
"And where is the esteemed lady?"
"She was taken ill on the journey. Her affianced--" At this, Harry coughed loudly to cover his amusement, and Ginny glared at him. "Ronald d'Oiseau is helping her to her quarters so that she may rest, but I know that she and he are both most eager to see you."
"Hmmmph. Well, welcome, Lord de Poter," Lord Carapaccio said grumpily. Harry took a deep breath. Now or never.
"I am most grateful for your kindest hospitality," he said, in the most florid tones he could come up with, "I hope that someday I may be able to repay you and your sweet daughter."
"Hmmmph," said Lord Carapaccio again, but it was friendlier this time. "Well, it was our pleasure, of course. You'll be coming to the ball tomorrow night? You'll have to be presented, of course--I'll inform the Doge."
"Ball?" Harry said, with the slight stirrings of panic beginning to form in his mind.
"Of course he'll come, Father, don't be silly," Ginny trilled, "Well, I'll just show him to his quarters now, bye bye!" And she pushed him out of the door.
Maria disappeared as Ron lay Hermione down gently on her bed, noting the elegance of the quarters. He smirked as he thought of Ginny living here. Must have been quite a change. He wondered what his quarters looked like. Hermione moaned and stirred a little in her sleep, and Ron's full attention returned to her as he sat down on her bed and gazed at her.
"Oh, 'Mione," he said quietly, "What am I going to do with you. You seem determined to work yourself into the ground sometimes...well, I won't let you!"
As it seemed that she would not wake, he continued. "That last month, after the dream, when I knew who I was and remembered you, but didn't know if I'd ever see you again--I think it was the hardest month I've ever spent. I dreamt about you every night--but then, I did that before, I just never remembered the dreams. I think Harriet thought I was going insane." He chuckled. "The thought of never seeing you again...well, let's just say it'll be awhile before I let you out of my sight." His tone grew lighter then. "You're going to have to start taking better care of yourself, though. The woman I love isn't allowed to inadvertently kill herself through overwork."
He noticed that she was waking, then, and as she chuckled and then yawned, she smiled up at him. "Okay."
He widened his eyes in mock alarm. "Wait a second. Did you just agree with me? Say it again, so I can savor this moment for ever."
She laughed outright then, and grabbed his hand, pulling it to her lips. "I said okay. And I love you, too."
He no longer tried to contain his smile. "Well, this is a red-letter day, then," he said, leaning down and kissing her on the nose and then the lips.
At that point, Ginny and Harry's voices came into earshot, and it became apparent that they were arguing about something.
"Look, it would be really suspicious if you'd said no!"
"No to what?" Ron inquired, dreading the answer. If Harry didn't want to do it, he probably didn't want to do it either.
Harry looked at them exasperatedly.
"We're going to a ball tomorrow night."
Chapter Two:
"I feel silly," said Ron, grumbling as he straightened his dress coat.
"Oh, yes, and I feel perfectly sensible in this frippery," snapped Harry as he tried to scratch his wrists. He was not fond of lace cuffs, and was beginning to understand why Ron had hated his dress robes in the fourth year.
"Will you two shut up?" Hermione said irritably, as she came in from the cloakroom with Ginny. The two boys both gaped in awe. Hermione was wearing a rich burgundy brocade dress with a scooped neck and her hair had been slicked back into an elaborate bun, while Ginny's dress was in blue, and though her hair was in a bun, several tendrils of it had been allowed to escape.
"Right," said Ron, snapping his mouth shut, "Shall we get ready to go in, then?"
But as he took Hermione's arm, Ginny could hear him murmur something to her, and she laughed delightedly. Harry sighed and held out his arm for Ginny.
"My Lady?"
"My Lord," she smiled, accepting, and continued, "You know, you'll be fine. I'll guide you through it, no problem. Sophia and I helped you all with the dance steps and etiquette this afternoon."
"I know," he told her, "I'm just nervous, that's all. This seems like the perfect way to blow our cover."
She looked at him anxiously. "You're not angry with me, are you?"
"What?" he said, surprised, and then, "No! I'm not angry with you...just nervous, like I said."
"As I said," Hermione corrected absentmindedly from behind him.
"As I said," Harry repeated dutifully. "I can't believe I'm supposed to be the brother to such a grammar-freak."
"Hey," said Ron, "I'm supposed to be her fiancé."
"Oh, both of you shut up," said Hermione, "There's no other way you'd be able to be here, given the social conventions involved. Why else would members of the unmarried male species be allowed to stay in the same house--or travel!--with an unmarried female? You'd have to be blood related, so there you are. And I am not a grammar-freak."
"Um...'Mione?" Ron said timidly, "Sorry, but you kind of are."
"I am not!" She looked at Ginny for support, but the red-head shook her head, laughing.
"'Fraid so."
"Oh!"
This had the result that when their names were called out by the herald a few seconds later, Hermione was pale with indignation and swept very regally indeed down the carpet to the Doge.
After the introduction (which wasn't nearly as scary as Harry had thought it might be), they began to mingle with the crowd. Ginny was instantly whisked away to dance, and Harry had to subdue his sudden pang of jealously rather ruthlessly. After a few minutes, Hermione was approached by a rather tipsy middle aged man, and it was only because Sophia was standing behind his back nodding vigorously at her that she tentatively accepted. Thus, Ron and Harry found themselves standing alone.
"Isn't she supposed to be my fiancée?" Ron asked Sophia, puzzled. "Shouldn't I be challenging him to a duel or something?"
She giggled. "No, silly. This is her introduction--he is the most important person here--well, besides the Doge--and once he dances with her, she's accepted."
"Oh." He digested this. "Well, I still don't like it."
"That's okay," she smiled. "It'll all be over in a few minutes--with him, anyway."
Ron blanched. "What d'ye mean, 'with him, anyway'?"
"Well, I don't know if you'd noticed, but your girlfriend's very pretty--"
"Thank you, I had," Ron muttered.
"--and I'm sure she'll be surrounded by admirers once the door's been opened by Lord di Brindisi over there." She blinked up at him. "Unless, of course, you get there first."
Ron turned an interesting sequence of colors and then, when the song ended and Hermione was surrounded by young men, strode off towards her, muttering something about the ridiculous situation of having to fight for a girl when you already had her. Sophia laughed, and turned to Harry.
"You, on the other hand, being a male, are supposed to ask one of us lovely females to dance--probably Catherine, as she's the most popular of us all. Then any one of us will dance with you."
"Which one's Catherine?" Harry asked, searching the crowd with his eyes.
"The one that looks as if she's got a nasty smell under her nose."
"Oh," said Harry, getting a bad feeling about this. "Look, I'd rather just dance with you."
Sophia's eyebrows rose. "Not your best choice for a first court dance. You'd do better with Bea--oh, I'm sorry, Ginny."
"I don't care. I'm more comfortable with you, and you'll be able to help me if I get lost with the dance. And Ginny's...busy," he said, trying to keep his expression light.
"Ah. I see. Well, in that case, I would be delighted to dance with you, Lord de Poter. Your Italian is excellent for a Frenchman." She grinned up at him as they walked onto the dance floor and began to dance.
"Well, I've been taking lessons."
"Have you? Did Beatrice help, while you were at school together?"
"Um, yeah, that's it," he said unconvincingly, then laughed. "God, I'm really no good at this undercover stuff, am I?"
She laughed back at him. "Not really, no. But I'm sure you'll learn."
They continued dancing. Sophia was a good dancer, and she managed to keep Harry on track most of the time. Hermione and Ron passed them, Hermione managing to keep Ron's feet going to the beat for the most part, and Ron glowering at anyone who attempted to cut in. Ginny also passed them, dancing with a blond-haired young man whose horsey laughter echoed off of the high-vaulted ceilings. Harry watched them sourly.
"You know," Sophia said perceptively, "you should ask her to dance."
"Yeah," said Harry, deliberately misinterpreting, "I guess it wouldn't do to dance every dance with you. People might think we were engaged or something."
Sophia glared at him. "You know perfectly well that isn't what I meant. You're obviously in love with her, and she's in love with you, so why don't you just go dance with her? You won't get a chance like this in your time--extraordinary sixteenth century balls don't happen very often there, I gather, and I suppose this is a very romantic setting--though it looks pretty normal to me," she added airily as she took in her surroundings and Harry gaped at the few dozen bombshells that she'd just dropped.
"Uh--excuse me? Love, her, me, dance, romantic--what are you saying?"
She looked at him with exaggerated patience, as if she were talking to a brain-damaged three-year-old. "You--love--her. Correct?"
"Um...yeah, I guess." Lord. That sounded strange out loud. Scarcely the ringing declaration he'd intended.
"Right. Sound a little more confident when you say that, or she'll never buy it. And she loves you."
"No she doesn't." He was sure.
Sophia sighed, exasperated. "Oh, for God's sake don't turn this into an is-not-is-too session. She loves you. She told me. Plus, I can see it. She never looked as happy in the three months I knew her until she saw you tumble into my chamber the other day. So stop being a dolt and go ask her to dance!"
Reeling from this new information, Harry was taking a little while to put it together. "Do you really think she does?"
Sophia closed her eyes. "Madonna, grant me patience. No, I've just been saying this the past ten minutes to torture you. I'm a wicked emotional sadist, and you're my poor, entrapped prey."
"All right, all right, no need to get all worked up." He took a deep breath, and looked across the room at Ginny, who was disappearing into the crowd once again. "Okay. I'm going."
"Hurray! The lad's come to his senses at last," Sophia directed at him for a parting shot, and then walked, bereft of a dance partner, back to her spot at the sidelines.
Ginny, feeling flushed and excited and desperately needing fresh air, stumbled out on the balcony. Hanging down over the railing, she sucked the cold, clear air into her lungs, and began to laugh. Everything was okay, she'd be going home soon, and she might be able to make it up with Mario as well. He wasn't such a bad sort, after all.
"Hey, Gin," said a voice, softly. She smiled at the sound of it, ignoring the butterflies in her stomach, and turned to greet him.
"Hi, Harry. Enjoying the ball?"
He laughed. "It's not as bad as I thought. But, um, Ginny--"
"Yes?" For some reason, she was finding it difficult to breathe.
"I--listen, you know how we've been spending a lot of time together recently, because of Ron and Hermione?" He wasn't looking at her, and had suddenly become intensely interested in his lace cuff.
"Yes..." Oh, God. This was it. He was going to tell her that he knew about her pathetic crush and he wanted nothing to do with her...Stop it, she scolded herself, Harry would never be that mean.
"Well, um--I just wanted to tell you that I--that is, I think I'd call you one of my best friends now."
"Yes?" Then, so that he wouldn't think that was the only word in her vocabulary, "Me too. I mean, you're one of my best friends, too."
"And I guess I got to thinking," Oh God, here it comes, "that maybe...maybe we could be...more than just best friends?"
"I understand completely," she was already saying, before what he said caught up to her. "What?"
He looked terrified. "I mean, I understand if you don't want to go out with me, I can be a real ass sometimes, like these past few days, I really didn't mean to be so evil," he babbled. Ginny gently reached out and took the cuff from between his fingers.
"You'll rip it," she said, somewhat breathlessly.
"I--oh. Sorry."
"No, I--Harry, I feel the same way."
"I'll go--wait, what?"
She could feel herself grinning foolishly. "I feel the same way. I want to be...more than best friends."
He grinned back, equally foolishly. "Well."
"Well."
"Good."
"Good."
They both began, unaccountably, to laugh, both feeling as though they could have floated on air had they tried. After a few minutes, Ginny dried her eyes, still chuckling.
"What next?"
"Will you, Lady Virginia d'Oiseau," she giggled at the name, "grant me this dance?"
"Of course, Lord de Poter," she said, taking his arm demurely, "I should be delighted." And they walked onto the dance floor.
Chapter Three:
Hermione watched interestedly as Harry danced yet one more dance with Ginny. "Harry's dancing with Ginny," she remarked to Ron, who replied, "About bloody time." She pulled back so that she could see his face, grinning delightedly.
"You don't mind?"
He looked incredulous. "What are you, kidding? It's what she wants, after all--and what he wants. Why could I get angry at something that makes them both so happy?"
She hugged him. "I love you." He looked surprised, but gratified.
"He just better not hurt her, that's all." Then he got a confused look on his face. She better not hurt him, either." This time it was his turn to pull away so that he could see her face. "You're the smart one--whose feelings take priority in this kind of situation, your little sister or your best friend?"
She giggled. "How about both?" He thought about this for a moment.
"Okay."
They were beginning to dance again, when Hermione felt a wave of dizziness pass over her, and she had to lean on him until it passed.
"'Mione?" The concern in his voice was evident.
"I'm fine--just tired. I'm still not up to big things, we'll have to wait at least a few days until we can leave."
"That's okay--as long as it takes. Maybe we should sit down."
"Yeah, maybe." He led her over to a chair, and hovered protectively as she sat.
She turned her eyes on him. "Ron. I'll be fine, I'm not made of glass. Go away."
"'Mione!" He was hurt, she could tell.
"I'm just--I'm just tired, Ron. I need to sit down for awhile, that's all. Go dance with Sophia, she looks lonely." She scowled at him until he left, and then collapsed against the chair. The words she'd read in that book this summer kept coming back to her--what if she died before she got the rest of them home? What if she didn't make it, and the others were trapped in the past for the rest of their lives--and to make matters worse, in a place where there was about to be a major war? She'd never forgive herself--she just had to hold on. Just long enough to get them home, and then she'd rest, then she'd let go. She was so tired...
She was in a dream, she was dancing with Harry and Harry was attracted to her, and maybe, maybe they were really in love, and she felt as though she could burst with happiness. True, this wasn't really the kind of dancing she'd always dreamed of--it was very formal, stylized, and they rarely touched, but it was still dancing, it was still with Harry, they were still moving together.
She laughed and looked at him quickly.
"Yeah," he said, grinning, "I know what you mean. I feel pretty much the same way."
When the dance was over, they walked over to the balcony to get some fresh air, but on the way, Ginny felt her someone's shoe sink into her toe, and she yelped.
"Oh! I'm so sorry, Beatrice," said Catherine smoothly, "I really am the clod tonight. But you understand."
Grrr. Grrr. Grrrrrrrr. "Of course, Catherine," Ginny said lightly.
"And who," looking Harry up and down, "is this?"
Harry smiled. "The Lord de Poter. And you are?"
Miffed, she said, "Lady Catherine di Casabianca." She stood there for a few minutes, obviously waiting for Harry to ask her to dance, but he did no such thing. Instead, he merely smiled, said, "Charmed. Please do excuse us," and swept Ginny away.
Catherine could barely contain her anger; Ginny could barely contain her glee.
But across the room, a pair of jealous green eyes were watching...
The next morning, Ginny walked into her "father's" study to give him the usual morning kiss. She was feeling unusually giddy, so when she saw Mario in the study, she was falling from a great height.
"M-Mario?" she said weakly.
"Beatrice," her father smiled, "I have good news. I have arranged for you to be affianced to Lord di Bari."
"What?" It was barely a whisper, and Lord di Carapaccio sailed blithely on.
"He asked for your hand a few days ago, and I had no reason to refuse him. He was going to tell you at the ball last night, but felt that perhaps it was the wrong time." His smile was unchanged, as wide as ever, but she knew him, and she knew that behind that smile his beady black eyes were watching her closely, watching to see what she did. She didn't care.
"Father--I need to tell you, Lord de Poter--"
"Is a spy and will be treated as such," he said calmly.
She felt as though she'd been dealt a blow to the gut. "What?"
"He is a foreigner, and chose a cunning disguise, along with his traveling companions. I had my suspicions, but Lord di Bari helped me with his identification as well. He found him in my study last night after the ball."
"What was Lord di Bari doing here after the ball?" she whispered, her mouth gone dry, and her "father" laughed, a cruel sound.
"Why, he was coming to see me, of course. To talk about the engagement. Why--"
She cut him off. "Where is Lord de Poter now? And his companions?"
He looked at her coldly. "I have sent for the police. They will be here any minute to apprehend the crooks." Without waiting to hear more, she turned and fled out of the room. Waking Harry, she dragged him and Ron into Hermione's room, and shook her.
"'Mione, wake up!"
"Ginny--what's going on?" Harry yawned, rubbing his head. Ron said nothing, simply watched Hermione anxiously, who came out of sleep slowly.
"Wh--wha's goin' on?" she mumbled.
"Lord di Carapaccio has called the police, he's going to have you arrested as spies. We have to leave, now!"
"Hang on," interjected Ron, "I really don't think 'Mione's up to it--"
"Oh, don't be so overprotective, Ron, of course I'm up to it," she snapped, coming fully awake. "Just give me a moment to prepare."
"But--" he said confusedly, "Last night, you said--"
Her face softened. "I know what I said, okay? Just trust me."
She sat there in the bed, clearing her mind completely, ignoring the circle of anxious faces staring at her, ignoring the noises coming from downstairs. And suddenly, she saw it: the Temporal, sitting on the bedpost in front of her, looking at her inquisitively.
"Well?" he said.
"One more trip," she said breathlessly, "for all of us. To August 26th, 1997, the Burrow in England. That's it. I won't bother you again."
He laughed. "No."
Her eyes widened. "Please. You don't understand--it's important."
He eyed her appraisingly. "How important?"
She cast around desperately. "Very important. It's the lives of my best friends, the people I love--and we might be able to save some people from our time, as well. And save some of your people from being held captive by Lord Voldemort." The Temporal's face darkened at the name, but did not give way.
"What would you give?"
She'd known this would happen, that this would be the final result. She closed her eyes. "Whatever I have to."
"Very well."
She just managed to gasp out, "It's coming," to the others, before the whirling started again. She felt the strength pour out of her into the Temporal, felt the others being transported along with them, and then slowly consciousness left her as her life force gradually drained away--she could always pull back, she knew, she could always deny it, but if she did that, then she would leave them all caught between times, so that was no choice at all, really--and the last thing she recognized before she passed out was Mrs. Weasley's worried, yet relieved, face.