Lady in Red
a/n: thank you all for the kind reviews! I was originally going to hold off this chapter until Monday or Tuesday, but pretty words swayed me otherwise.
enjoy!
C H A P T E R T W O:
A not quite full moon framed itself in the charmed window of a dimly lit office, six floors up in the Ministry of Magic. The beams of light welcomed themselves inside, scuttling over a low-burning candle and spotting the back of a hand, which skimmed steadily across a scroll of parchment.
Harry Potter reclined in his chair, his emerald eyes hurtling the tops of his glasses to check the time. This document wasn't due until next week, and he had been working on it for three hours…yes, he decided, tightly furling the scroll and tucking it safely inside the desk drawer, perhaps tomorrow night…
Harry massaged his tired knuckles, staring out into the darkness. Remus Lupin entered the office quietly, causing Harry to start when he noticed the werewolf at his desk.
"How are you, Professor?" he asked, half-laughing at his own shock. It was sometimes difficult to remember he didn't have to live with his guard up anymore. His battle was won.
"Fine, thank you," Lupin replied graciously, smiling a bit. "I just came to check on how my paperwork was coming. Quite well, I hope, considering I hired the best legislative Drafter in the Ministry?"
Harry grinned at the compliment. "I got a fair start on it tonight, but clearing up all of Dolores Umbridge's red tape is proving tricky. I can't believe she was this anti-half-breed."
"If anyone can do it, it's you, Harry," said Lupin encouragingly, glancing out the window. "I must remember to take my potion tonight…. And speaking of tonight, don't you have somewhere to be?"
Harry shifted uneasily in his seat. "I've got loads of work, and the Weasley twins hold that poker party every Friday night—"
"I was referring, actually," Lupin cut in coolly, "to the Hogwarts Graduation Ball." He picked the invitation off Harry's desk from amid piles of documents and placed it squarely before him.
"Perhaps it slipped your mind?"
"I was really hoping just to forget about it," Harry admitted.
"There are a great many things in your life I'm sure you wish you could forget, Harry," Lupin growled gently, "But maybe the ones that linger were never meant to go."
He tapped the side of the desk with his fingertip, smiling wolfishly, causing the bottom left drawer to slide open, and made pace to the door.
Harry sighed, reaching down to shut the drawer, but the contents inside stopped him. Ginny Weasley's smiling face beamed up at him, waving from underneath a beach tree. Harry picked up the heavy frame—he remembered asking Colin Creevey to take the picture for him. Harry watched as his photographic self snuck round the tree and scooped Ginny up from behind…how he missed those days, that laugh…
Professor Lupin stood in the doorway, his back to the room and outline blurring in the dying candlelight. "You can stop running, Harry. It's safe now," he whispered, without looking back, and Disapparated.
After watching his solitary candle splutter and die, and tossing a glance at the clock again, Harry grabbed his cloak and hurried off.
The fireplace in the Hogwarts kitchens burst to life suddenly, causing Dobby the House-Elf to topple over in fright. He uprighted himself quickly, however, when he caught a better view of the figure emerging from the grate.
"Harry Potter! What is you doing in Hogwarts now?" Dobby asked, goggling at Harry from underneath what seemed to be an aviator's cap.
"I came for the ball," Harry replied, beating soot from his robes. "I'm not too late, am I?"
"The Ball is about to begin," Dobby squeaked. "Harry Potter must hurry if he is to find his Ms. Weezy —"
"Thanks, Dobby," cried Harry, sprinting to the door, "and nice hat!"
"Good luck, Harry Potter, sir!"
Glorious, shimmering lengths of fabric in the school colors garlanded themselves from the enchanted, starry ceiling in the Great Hall, and silver candles rested in the center of tiny, four-person tables scattered around the vicinity, casting mysterious shadows upon the students' faces. Harry entered stealthily, keen not to be spotted; however, everyone seemed too preoccupied with enjoying themselves to pay him much attention.
Albus Dumbledore was holding court on the far left side of the stage. Not for just any reason had the Wizarding world bestowed him with the honour of greatest sorcerer—no, almost as if he had been expecting him, Dumbledore caught Harry's eye from among the crowd and nodded discreetly to the south corner of the Hall.
Harry walked the length of his gaze and found himself right behind Ron and Ginny. Hermione, sitting across from them, raised her eyebrows in pleasant surprise at the sight of him, then leaned over to engage Ginny in conversation.
She seemed to be preparing herself for something, Ginny, standing up and goading Ron playfully. The Head Boy, clad in a violet spotlight on center stage, called her out to open the Ball with a dance.
He didn't know what did it. As if Harry's feet had grown a mind of their own, they trod purposefully toward Ginny's back, giving him a better view of Ron, whose grin was much louder than the clapping in Harry's ears. Pointing a freckled finger over his sister's shoulder, Ron asked, "You mean him?"
With the beginning chords of a waltz pumping sorely through his blood, as if they had missed fusing with his body after so long, Harry reached out to tap Ginny's shoulder—but instead felt his fingertips brush against someone else, whose broad back hid Harry from Ginny's view, and who had slipped between them surreptitiously to murmur, "May I have this dance?"
"Michael," he heard Ginny breathe, surprised. The smile on Ron's face melted away, and Hermione's eyes flashed dangerously.
There was nothing else for it. The students had already cleared a path for them to the center of the floor, and it would be churlish of Ginny not to rest her delicate fingers in Michael Corner's palm, allow herself to be walked down the parted sea of graduates, fit herself against him and sway to the slow waltz.
Harry threw himself into the chair next to Ron, who was asking Hermione furiously, "Why is he here? I thought he graduated with us?"
"I expect he came back for his sister's graduation," Hermione replied frostily.
"She didn't even look at him," Ron added in an undertone, tipping his head towards Harry, whose brain was working furiously and unearthing a memory from two years previously…
---
The summer evening's air was light and balmy in the garden as Hagrid and his wife, Maxime, began the dance with their wedding court.
"…for your hearing pleasure, Ms. Ginevra Weasley!"
Harry gave a start, trailed his gaze away from the maid of honor and onto the stage, where Ginny indeed was standing and clutching the microphone in a very artistic way.
Harry and Ginny's eyes met, and he instantly knew:
This song would be for him.
---
"…Never settle for the path of least resistance.
Livin' might mean takin' chances but they're worth takin'
Lovin' might be a mistake but it's worth makin'
Don't let some hell-bent heart leave you bitter
When you're close to sellin' out, reconsider
Give the heavens more than just a passing glance
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance…
I hope you daaaaaaaaaance…"
---
"Well, she'll see me now," Harry said suddenly, pulling Hermione to her feet. "You don't mind, do you, Ron?"
"No…erm…what?" Ron sent after them, watching as a confused Hermione walked with Harry to join the other dancing couples.
"Harry, what's this about?" Hermione asked, once they were waltzing smoothly.
"When you get the choice to sit it out or dance…" he answered simply.
Hermione smiled, moving a little nearer to where Michael and Ginny were dancing, and allowing Harry to get his first real look at Ginny.
She was wearing scarlet dress robes, low on the collar and flowing in the sleeve, which complimented the elegant bouquet of fiery curls resting on the back of her head. Her eyes, once drizzles of dark chocolate, were now enlightened by something bittersweet—love or war, he could not say—and the spray of freckles upon her cheeks was no longer childish, but mature and sophisticated.
Those eyes landed upon Harry's face, and he felt his heart plummet, as if it had tripped down a flight of stairs. Ginny went pale, forcing her mouth into a taken-aback sort of smile. Harry smiled in return, his heart thumping so forcefully he wouldn't be surprised if it sprang from his chest and smacked Hermione round the face.
Michael, now cognizant of the fact that Ginny had stopped making polite conversation, pulled her a little closer to him. He tossed Harry a malevolent smirk that put Harry in mind of Draco Malfoy.
Ginny frowned at the abrupt proximity between her and her partner, and placed a hand on his chest to push him back a bit. Michael, however, took this as an invitation; he slid palm slowly from the small of Ginny's back, following the curve of her tailbone and coming to rest upon a place which Ginny did not appreciate at all.
She firmly placed his hand back upon her waist, shooting her brow up in warning. Harry felt his grip on Hermione tighten.
Not one to be defied, Michael Corner brought his mouth very close to Ginny's, letting his breath ghost along her lips. She caught a whiff of Firewhiskey and knew he had been drinking. But when he tried to kiss her, she found that was no excuse.
Harry didn't care if Corner had an excuse or not; he marched straight up to Michael and rapped him smartly on the shoulder.
"Oh, hey, Potter. D'you want something?"
"Yeah," Harry replied roughly, "for you to back off."
Michael chuckled, still dancing. "Hold your hippogriffs, mate. I haven't had me fun yet."
Harry released a low snarl. "Get out."
People around them were starting to stare.
"Whatever fun you're planning to have, you can have it alone," Ginny said brashly, moving back from Michael.
"Aw, don't be that way, Gin," he laughed, clutching her wrist. "I can make this a good night for you," he added suggestively.
"Now really!" exclaimed Hermione, who had a hand on Harry's arm to prevent him from doing anything rash.
"Let her go, Corner," Harry said, narrowing his eyes at him.
But Michael seemed to enjoy provoking Harry. "And what if I don't?"
"Then you'll have me to answer to," Harry countered, drawing himself up.
"No he won't," added Ginny hotly, wrenching her hand from Michael's clutches.
"Big man, eh, Potter?" he said, prodding Harry's chest.
"Michael!" Ginny barked.
"Yeah, I am," replied Harry, brushing his robes where Michael had touched them.
"Harry," Hermione whispered warily.
"So I'll ask you again," Harry said clearly, "get out."
"I ain't gotta take orders from you—"
"Is there a problem here?" came a new voice, belonging to none other than Professor Snape.
"Not at all, Professor," Michael said.
"Excellent. Then, Mr. Corner, you won't mind coming with me…"
And the pair of them disappeared with a swish of their robes just as the waltz ended.
the chapter was getting a bit long, so I had to cut it here. I would really appreciate hearing what you think!
un beso dulce!
HiPa