Chapter Ten
Harry and Cho arrived at the gala in splendour, looking every bit the happy couple. None but Harry's closest friends would notice that he looked strained and that his hand around Cho's hips was gripping rather tight.
Soon Cho went off to kiss cheeks with some of her Ministry friends. Gwendolyn Keelin and Iolanthe Sicklethorn came over and, apologizing to a rather relieved Harry, explained that they had met a darling woman, Mrs. Tabitha Ludlow, and Cho simply must come over and say hello. Cho blew a kiss at Harry and glided away on black stiletto heels, sandwiched by her two friends.
Sighing and feeling his shoulders relax, Harry soon turned his attention to conversation. Despite being somewhat corrupt in previous years, the Ministry had turned over its reputation, as well as getting some new blood, and was now home to Britain's best wizarding minds.
"Well, well, Mr. Potter. Still alive I see!" Jefferson Cansino was plump and jovial, giving Harry a slight feeling as if houselves would burst out of nowhere with candy canes and presents. He trotted up to Harry, threw is arm around his shoulders, and thundered, "How is Dark-Wizard catching suiting you, eh?"
Harry smiled, but somewhat grimly, remembering his most recent experience and the strains it had put on him. "Very well, Mr. Cansino, but I'm afraid it's getting harder and harder to keep them locked up!"
"Would you like to tell me your opinion of this old act getting re-established? It would make a good interview, you know, I could put a good spin on it for you." Jefferson was very earnest, the editor-in-chief of the Daily Prophet.
Harry chuckled. "Sorry Jeff, I haven't got one, myself. Unforgivables or no, I'll do my job. Turn that into a story," he called, walking away. Much as he liked Alistair, he'd had too many run-ins with reporters to know that the slightest comment could be turned into a front-page headline.
" 'Arry!" A familiar silky voice called his name. He knew who it was. "Bill and I 'ave not seen you in zi longest time. You must join us for tea one day, no?"
"Fleur. Always a pleasure." Fleur Weasley always made Harry involuntarily more debonair. It didn't suit him; part of the reason why he avoided her and Bill. It made him feel as if he was cheating on Cho and betraying the eldest Weasley. The sudden urge to push Bill out of the way and talk only to Fleur didn't make him feel any better, either. "Of course, I've just been occupied lately. News comes at the shortest notice, and scheduling and keeping appointments is so very hard to do. You will forgive me?" Damn her for being part Veela.
"Of course, Harry! How are you, mate?" Bill was still handsome and cool, despite being married and in possession of an infant. They shook hands, and the urge to push him subsided. "Have you seen my kid brother? I think he's got something important on his mind." Turning away from Fleur, he muttered under his breath, "Have you seen his date? And he's completely ignoring her!"
Harry grinned. "He tends to do that with the best-looking girls," he replied, remembering the Yule Ball back in fourth year. At least he had matured since then. Well, not much, he thought, realizing bitterly the circumstances of his relationship.
Hermione woke from an apparently dreamless sleep with a jolt. 8:04 on the nose, she thought as she smiled into her pillow. She had always been able to do this, wake at the time she wanted, once her internal clock was timed. Miss Granger had been waking up at 8:04 for the past two years.
She was fairly sure she would be the first of the two of them to wake. It would be satisfying in a savage way to stomp around the room, and maybe step on Malfoy's head in the process, rudely waking him up. She remembered the events of the previous night, although she'd been drunk, and still refused to listen to the little voice in her head about being rational. Besides, when did she have the gratification of just being angry? She was taking full advantage of not having to keep her emotions in check.
Hermione sat up in anticipation of hurling her flowery-printed pillows across the room, one by one. A giant throb went through her head. She moaned and collapsed back onto the bed. The pain was extraordinary. Maybe this is what Harry feels like, she mused, when Voldemort is around. Turning over slowly, she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep again. It wouldn't hurt to sleep in, just this once.
Draco was awakened by the sound of a dull moan. Hmm, what was Miss Granger getting up to in the morning? The grogginess clearing, he realized that she was completely unused to the effects of a hangover. Well, damned if he was going to get a cranky Hermione suffering from a hangover and the pain of rejection all at once. Waiting a few minutes and hearing nothing but deep relaxed breathing, Draco got up and silently dressed, slipping out the door with Hermione none the wiser.
~*~*~
About and hour and a half later, Hermione glided back into conciousness, headache subsiding slightly. She inched herself into a sitting position, hand gingerly rubbing her head. Making no sudden movements, Hermione managed to get out of her bed, wiggling her toes into the fluffy pink carpet. With her new view of the room she could plainly see that Malfoy was not in the vicinity. Frantically -or as frantically as she could- Hermione started a meticulous search of the room.
She searched under to bed, in all of the corners hidden by pieces of furniture like chairs or cabinets, in the walk-in closet, and even in all of the dresser drawers. Perhaps she wasn't quite ready for quick thinking this early in the day, and with a hangover to boot. Sitting down on her bed, a tearful Hermione let all her fears come to the surface of her mind.
What if I don't find him? What if the Death Eaters caught him? What if they caught him, but didn't recognize me? What will I tell Ginny? What will I tell the Ministry? Sorry Mr. Ludlow, but I was quite hung- over and upset at Draco for not sleeping with me, so I didn't realize he was gone?
Brushing away frustrated tears with the back of her hand, Hermione went into the bathroom to wash with cold water, a sure-fire remedy for grogginess. Beside the mirror, her arch-nemesis at the moment, she saw a note written in beautiful handwriting.
Hermione,
Meet me at the Wee Folk Café. I need to speak to you.
Draco
P.S Went for a walk, couldn't sleep.
Rolling her eyes, Hermione changed out of the rumpled black dress, washed off her raccoon eyes, and pulled on some gray draw-string pants and a baggy sweater. Bad things happened when she thought about how she looked. As an afterthought, she pulled her hair back, recalling a compliment Draco had paid her about her long curly hair. " You look free and wild when it's down like that," he'd said. Ugh. Today she would be restrained and tame.
~*~*~
Looking up and down the room for Ron, Harry made eye contact with Dumbledore.
Dumbledore had maintained a steady presence at the Ministry ever since the return of Voldemort had been confirmed, in Harry's fifth year. Like the old days when Fudge had been a newcomer, owls streamed into Hogwarts. Dumbledore had been re-appointed and promoted everywhere, and had retained full control of Hogwarts. He may have been getting old, but senile he would never be.
"Hello, Harry. So nice to see you. I believe you've been getting on all right? I spoke to Ron earlier. He misses our talks." Dumbledore's eyes sparkled like sun on the sea. Harry was getting the message, and apparently it was urgent, or else they would have discussed it at Wizard Wheezes.
"So do I," Harry said quickly. "He's been stressed lately. Maybe later on you could spare a moment or two to-"
"Harry! There you are, love! I want you to come and meet Mrs. Ludlow. She absolutely lovely!" Cho had the most aggravating habit of appearing at the least opportune moment.
"I would, Mr. Potter, but unfortunately I believe that you will soon have to fly off to other matters."
Fly off? Bloody hell, what does that mean, Harry thought. Nodding to Dumbledore, who twinkled at him in return, Harry allowed Cho to lead him through the throng of impeccably dressed wizards to where a group of women were speaking in lowered tones. Harry steeled himself for the squeals. There had been a lot of rumours and a lot of press about who the lucky Mrs. Potter would be, but with Harry putting out a huge announcement of their engagement in the Daily Prophet, the newspaper had gone wild, and Cho had become the overnight trophy wife of the wizatding world. The boy who lived has a girl who will last!
"Ladies!" Cho trilled. "I suspect you all know Harry?" Poor Harry, he thought to himself as his cheeks were kissed and pinched. Someone had kissed him full on the lips. Poor, poor me.
"Harry, this is Mrs. Ludlow, the brains behind the Minister for Magic. Mrs. Ludlow, my fiancé, Harry P-"
"Oh, silly girl! I know who he is! Hello dear," she exclaimed in a high piercing voice. "And I'm not the brains behind him, but I do feed and dress him in the morning, goodness knows!" All of the young women tittered and sighed wistfully.
A surprisingly thin man for the voice he possessed came up behind Mrs. Ludlow. "That she does!" Mortimer Ludlow bellowed. "Couldn't get up in the morning if it weren't for my Tabby!" He dipped his wife back slightly and kissed her. Theatrics over, he turned to Cho and said, "Oh, my darling Cho, how are you? And you came complete with fiancé tonight, I see! How are the wedding plans coming, then?"
Harry was about to say, "Actually, they're just on hold right now," when Cho burst in.
"Very well, thank you Minister! Of course, it's difficult with both of our busy schedules, but it's coming along."
Harry stared at her incredulous. She didn't love him. She loved her trophy wife status and all the perks that came along with it. She loved the fact that he was the Boy Who Lived, and couldn't stand not to be the Girl Who Lasted. Did she think he didn't see through her? He began looking around the room, for Ron, for something to smash Cho with, for anything. And there it was. All three of those things. Ginny Weasley, in owl form, sitting on the windowsill. She looked at him, stared him straight in the eyes. And flew off, into the darkness of the outside world.
"Cho, love, I'm sorry, but I've just remembered something I've got to do." Or someone, Harry thought, and grimaced at his terrible joke. Ginny didn't want him. She would slap him upside the head. Or hex him. The Impediment Jinx sounded good. And appropriate. How ironic that he'd taught it to her.
Cho's eyes were flashing, but she faked a sympathetic look. "Oh, honey, poor you! I'll see you at home, then." Harry didn't know if she would show up, or if it was all part of her act. Either way, it wouldn't matter. He wouldn't be at home. He smiled sarcastically. No one noticed the difference.
Walking away from the group and Cho, he heard one of the ladies say, "Oh, you poor dear. I don't know how you manage to be so patient and trusting. Why, if my husband was always running off to who knows where…" Cho's reply made him gag.
"Well, when you love someone as much as I love Harry, you just feel a connection. I know he loves me as much as I do him."
He found Ron, who said he would get out as soon as possible, but his date would just not be shaken off. Smiling over Ron's aggravation at having a date who was drop-dead gorgeous and nuts for him, Harry walked through the front door as was immediately grabbed.
It had started raining; it usually did in London. More of a torrential downpour, actually. The rain was dripping down his face; drenching his hair and seeping into his socks. The person who had grabbed him was shorter then he was, probably 5' 8 –still quite tall. He squinted. Whoever it was was wearing a hood.
He was positively soaking now. Reaching forward, he pulled down the black hood. It was Ginny, already wet. Her hair felt frizzy, and she had a horrible damp feeling at the back of her neck, a mixture of rain and sweat.
Harry let out a sigh of relief. "Ginny! You scared me. I thought you were a Death Eater or something." Ginny raised an eyebrow at this comment.
She looked up at the sky and said, "I saw an awning down the way. We'll be a little drier under it." She took off down the street, Harry following at a jog.
It wasn't much better underneath the awning. There were cracks in the old, rotted wood roof, which also had bugs crawling in it. Ginny eyed Harry carefully and said, "What's wrong, Harry? Had a bad night at the Insta-Smiles Parade?" Ginny's name for parties which Harry attended, on account of the fact that whenever Harry approached, people painted on smiles.
Harry put his head in his hands, and rubbed his temples. Then he said, "It's Cho. She doesn't seem to get the fact that I want to call it quits for now. She wants to bask in her new-found fame." He closed his eyes and leaned back against the brick wall. A spider was scuttling around beside his head.
Ginny snorted in an unladylike fashion. "Harry dear," she said frankly, "any of us could have told you that was all she wanted. She might not have always been a gold-digging schemer, but she is now, and I say you're better off without her. I know you don't want me to say this, but I'm only being hone-" She stopped abruptly because Harry was shaking his head.
"No. No, you're right. I think I always knew what she was in the back of my mind, but wanted her to be the way I remember her in third year." Harry looked into Ginny's eyes and needed to say no more. She completely understood what he was trying to get across.
I lied, she thought. I lied when I told you I stopped loving you. It was all very soap-opera, but she couldn't help it. She hoped he was getting the message.
Harry was still looking into her eyes. He looked and saw Cho's falseness. He saw her insensitivity, he saw her unwarranted jealousy, her skepticism, her downright bitchiness. He looked and he saw Ginny, untried, untested, but so desirable.
He cupped her face in his hands, his eyes searching her face. She closed her eyes, cherishing that touch. That little movement told him all he needed to know about Ginny's feelings right at that moment. He kissed her gently, softly. No all-consuming fiery passionate kiss, but a chaste kiss, a kiss that spoke volumes. She didn't hesitate, nor falter. She had been waiting for Harry all these years, but never alone. There were more men than Harry who had felt Ginny's kiss.
More quickly than he liked, she pulled away. They were both breathing heavily.
"Bloody hell. That can never happen again. Don't worry, I won't say anything to Cho." She spat out the name. It disgusted her. Harry's a lovely kisser, she thought abruptly, but quickly pushed that thought away. She stepped away, not trusting herself.
"Why? Tell Cho for all I care. Why would it never happen again?" He stepped closer. She smelled like oranges, sharp and sweet.
"Because, Harry darling-" he loved when she said that, albeit sarcastically, "-you have a fiancée. And even if you don't love her, you'd still feel guilty for betraying her. And eventually you'd come to resent me."
Harry didn't want to concede that she was right, that he would feel guilty. But it wouldn't last long. Cho was just a sad chapter in his life that he would get over. He wanted Ginny to be the Girl Who Lasted, not Cho, not anyone else.
"No I don't. I don't have a fiancée. Not anymore. Maybe in Cho's mind we still have something, but she'll have to realize that it's over." A thought jumped to the forefront of his mind. A chilling thought. A thought that could ruin all and would explain why she was resisting him. Slowly, afraid of the answer, he asked, "Are you with someone?"
Ginny laughed, a little sardonically. "Yes, recently becoming a Death Eater has done wonders for my social life." Harry relaxed his tense body. She wasn't finished yet, though. "And what was that in there? She had her arm around you and was chattering away."
"She was spreading evil, nasty, attention-seeking stories. We agreed to go on hiatus and come as friends, but she was talking to Mortimer and Tabitha about our wedding plans. Bitch." He said it before he had even thought it. Even Ginny looked surprised. But shaking her head, she dismissed it.
"Well, I'm here on business tonight. No don't worry-" Harry started to pull out his wand. "They're going to shoot up the Dark Mark right on top of this building. That's what they planned, anyway. Sh!" she exclaimed suddenly, and pushed Harry behind a cluster of garbage bins. Her keen eyes scanned the darkness. A looming figure in a black cape materialized out of the shadows and slowly advanced toward her. "Nott?" she called softly.
Luckily Nott wasn't the brightest Crayon in the box, and hadn't been paying close attention to what Ginny was saying as he walked up, and didn't question why she was talking to, apparently, herself. "Yeah. Change of plans. The Dark Lord thinks this is too good an opportunity to waste. We're going to burn it, there are too few of us to attack. Timed for two minutes from now." Nott left a silent Ginny to deliver the message to the next person.
"Holy shit," she breathed. "Go," she ordered Harry. "Get out Ron and Bill and Fleur. Any other people you can save. Do not announce it, or you'll blow the cover! People will die tonight Harry. You just have to choose who is most important to you and the wizarding world." Harry looked stricken at having to choose who would live and who would die. Ginny was pushing himback to the entrance of the building, still muttering instructions to him, "Ludlow will get out. Don't tell him. He's one of them. Go!" She spoke as loud as she could, in a stage whisper.
Harry went. Inside he smiled and shook hands with everyone, alone in the knowledge that they were going to die. First he went up to Dumbledore.
"Death Eater attack. Get out," he said, still smiling. Dumbledore went to get Minerva, who was accompanying him that evening. Wordlessly, they began to alert one or two people, telling them different stories.
"Bill, Fleur, get out. A little bird told me," Harry said quietly, sidling up beside them.
"Shit," Bill said eloquently. He and Fleur went out a side door and Apparated to their home where their infant daughter awaited them.
"Ron, your owl showed up. Get out," Harry hissed as he passed Ron. After a moment's hesitation he went up to Cho. His conscience would not let him leave her.
"Go to your flat. Get out of here. I can't explain right now, but you need to leave."
"But Harry, we just got here," Cho whined.
Fifteen seconds. "Fine, stay. I'm leaving." Cho shot him scathing glare, but turned on her heel and left. He followed, straight and tall. As he exited the building and darted away, he heard voices mutter, "Incendio!" As if on cue, the windows and doors were sealed with fire. As a Ministry precaution, wands were confiscated at the entrance. Multicoloured sparks were flying everywhere, as a result of burning wand cores. The fire began to roar, catching onto the wooden beams that ran along the ceiling. This was a strange fire. It could burn anything, stone, metal, concrete, burned and withered like sheets of newsprint, wherever wizards jumped through windows or off the roof. Death Eaters complete with mask and cape had finished them off. Harry grew sick watching the flames devour the building. He had saved as many friends as he could, but many more would die. It wasn't in him to decide the fate of so many people. He Apparated home, and called his broomstick to him. In a daze he clipped and polished the handle using his battered old kit. Forgetting about Ginny and Cho, he drifted to a far from dreamless sleep. Images of hands pounding on the glass in a desperate effort to get out the death trap. Condemned souls screaming for help haunted him that night.
FinisA/N: Hey everyone. So here we are, this is the longest chapter in the history of our- er- history. So I hope you enjoyed it, and school's starting soon, but we hope to keep churning out the chapters. We already have the next one started! Please review, and notice Samantha Riddle's CC? That's what we love to hear. Thank you to everyone who read before and is giving us another chance, and to everyone new. Bye!