Disclaimer: Same as always. Not mine, Never mine.

"I do."

"And do you, Fleur-

I hear Ron pretend to cough in Hermione's ear. "Hem hem, Phlegm, hem."

-Take Bill as your lawfully wedded husband?"

"I do."

Dumbledore smiles, and says, "I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride."

Bill and Fleur suck face as Ron, Hermione, and Harry fake gagging. I stifle a laugh.

The newly wedded couple walks back down the isle. Gabrielle and her escort are next, and Bill's friend Mark and I follow behind. Ron sticks his leg into the isle to trip me, but I expect it, and I walk around.

The reception is held in the backyard of the Burrow. It's quite noisy. Well, my family is noisy, anyway. There are quite a few of us, and when we all get together, we make quite a rowdy bunch. Phlegm's relatives are sticking close together some distance from the rest of us. They look down their noses as us as we walk by, and say things in French that probably aren't compliments. Who cares, really? Bugger the French.

I walk from the buffet over to the table I had been sitting at with Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Ron is stuffing his face with wedding cake, quite literally. His face might actually be covered in icing. Hermione looks really beautiful in the dress robes she got at Diagon Alley last year, which are marred only by the disgusted look on her face. She can't take her eyes off my brother, who looks to be shoveling the whole of his third piece into his mouth. It's like she's got some kind of morbid fascination with it or something. I look to see what Harry is doing-

-And he looks down at his tea the instant my head turns his way.

Was he staring at me?

I set my plate down at my place at the table and sit. I quickly form a small plan in my head.

Pretending to be hungrier than I am, I instantly start slurping up my FRENCH-onion soup (Mum thought she would make something Phlegm's family would know and like. Shame that didn't work out), keeping my face down so I can barely see Harry out of my peripheral vision. After a few moments, Harry looks back at me. I lean up to take a drink of my pumpkin juice and-

-Couples dancing on our makeshift dance floor suddenly enthrall him.

Ha. I caught him.

I carefully move my soup to the seat next to Harry and budge over to sit in front of it. I lean over and whisper in Harry's ear, "I saw you watching me, Harry. You can quit pretending now."

The tiniest trace of a blush appears on Harry's face. He continues watching my aunt Georgia and my uncle Walden do a drunken tango, and then replies, "How do you know I was looking at you? I might have been staring over your head."

I almost have time to be disappointed before I realize that he is kidding. I smile.

"I happen to know that my Great Aunt Gertrude is sitting behind me, and that she clocks in at about 143 this year. It was tough to guess if it was her or me, but…" I shrug my shoulder as if to say, "Oh well," and take a drink of my pumpkin juice. When I set my drink back down, Harry is looking at me and grinning, which was exactly what I wanted.

I begin to search his eyes, subtly, in case he tries to look away. First thing is mirth; followed by his realization that he's having fun while people are dying in what he thinks is his war, which considerably dampens his spirits. I must have shown some concern on my face, because it seems like he knows what I'm doing. I expect him to turn away, but he doesn't, which surprises me. Oh well, I'll figure out what that means later. There's some surprise in his eyes, as well. This sort of longing is right beside that, and eventually, it comes in front. And that other feeling again, the warm and fuzzy one, with passion and delight and contentment… it's never-ending…

Just as I'm getting absorbed into that sweet emotion, Mum's voice yanks me back into the present.

"Ginny, dear, would you come over to see your Aunt Gertrude? She's inquiring about you, and says that she loved the look of you in your robes, very tasteful…"

She rattles on about Auntie as I grudgingly slide out of my seat. As Mum steers me away from my table, I look back at Harry. He looks almost crestfallen. I spin back around as I hit my toe on Auntie's hover chair (kind of like a wheelchair for all you Muggle types reading my thoughts).

"Ow!"

"Don't complain! That was entirely your fault for not looking where you were going. Molly, have you noticed that your daughter walks like she's some kind of laborer? She really should start acting like a young lady, or you'll never marry her off."

I bite my tongue to keep myself from making a comment on how that's probably better than not walking at all and sit down in the chair next to my mother. Mum cringes, and replies as best as she can to Auntie's incredibly high standards.

I sigh and put my chin in my hands as Mum and Auntie continue their conversation. Getting an idea from Harry, I turn and watch my uncles and brothers and cousins spin their dates around the floor. Aunt Georgia passes out in Uncle Walden's arms.

I suddenly catch a piece of Mum's chat with Auntie. "Well, Harry's going back to stay at his family's house for a while and I thought that he would like some time alone with his friends before he left, and I know that my Ginny would be graceful about giving him his space…" Auntie looked doubtful as I grasp what my mother is saying.

"I AM HIS FRIEND, MUM!" The tables closet to us all go silent, including Ron's table. My mother is about to retort as I get up from my seat and walk directly over to Harry. Harry's eyes show shock, embarrassment, and nervousness as I stop in front of him and ask boldly, "Care to dance?" I hold my hand out to him.

Scared of my mother, but apparently more scared of me, Harry hesitantly takes my hand and gets out of his chair. Ron has stopped in mid-chew to ogle us and Hermione has and I-knew-it look gracing her face. I ignore both and lead Harry to the floor.

In a quite picturesque manner, the sun begins to set as Harry puts his other hand stiffly on my waist and gives me a terrified glance. I would have laughed, if I hadn't been so angry with Mum. I forgot how much Harry hates dancing.

Harry is staring at his feet and counting his steps under his breath. "One, two, three, one, two, three…" It's one of the most pathetic things I have ever seen. "Would you like me to lead?" I say caustically, immediately regretting it. Harry looks up, taken aback at my tone of voice, and promptly steps on my foot. He stops dancing and starts stammering out his apologies.

"It's alright, Harry, don't worry, it didn't even hurt…" I stop trying to assure him and switch to getting him dancing again. "Come on, let's keep dancing, you were doing really well. See? It's not that hard…"

We finally continue dancing, with Harry only checking on his feet every few minutes. Our awkward conversation eventually turns into a casual, cheerful one. His eyes have me enthralled as I float between the fluffy layers of that happy, warm, and complete feeling. He stops in the middle of some joke about a Japanese golfer (whatever that is) and just stares at me. His eyes hold new feelings. There's indecision, hesitation, and what can only be absolute fear. My eyes question his as he starts to tell me something.

"Ginny, I… well, I think…"

He twirls me around as his eyes seem annoyed and recognize that whatever he wanted to say couldn't just be blurted out.

"Gin, can I talk to you later tonight? At the fire again? Same time?"

I'm worried concerning what he wants to talk to me about, but won't let that get in the way of his need to speak with me. "Of course, Harry."

He seems pained as he nods and lets go of me. I watch him as he quickly turns around and walks back to the Burrow. I then notice that I am the only on left outside under a beautiful starry sky. I spin around in a circle by myself and decide to walk out to the pasture I used to play in as a kid, but not before doing a quick Finite Incantatum on the little self-playing string quartet Fleur enchanted, which is beginning to sound a little lazy and has started playing the same song over and over again. I walk away to enjoy a bit of cool night breeze before I go to my meeting with Harry, and clear my mind.

hr

Author's Note: Fun fun! Who can find the Aerosmith reference in this chapter? Winners will receive one thousand points to their house.

I also want you to know that I am well aware that this wasn't one of my most well written chapters. My muse often has a mind of her own, and must have decided to go clubbing tonight, leaving me here to do the dirty work. I just wanted to get this up to you ASAP.

Guys! There's only 7 reviews for this story, and I know a ton more people have read it than that. PLEASE, PLEASE REVIEW! I need the feedback, or I wont know whether or not I should commit suicide because I suck so badly.

REVIEW! My life depends on it!