Chapter 15: Memories in the Making
Harry was ready. He knew he was going to do it. There was only one problem: how. A thousand different possibilities pulsed their way through his head, and none of them seemed good enough. After all, this was Ginny Weasley- THE Ginny Weasley- he was talking about proposing to. Harry knew very well that Ginny could have had any wizard she wanted, and yet, as she had assured him repeatedly, she wanted none other than him, Harry James Potter.
The past week for Harry had been filled with other numerous errands to tackle. On top of homework, battle tactic planning, meetings with Dumbledore, traveling to the Burrow to speak with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and planning on popping the question, Harry's nerves were shot. He was coming to realize why most wizards and witches waited until after they had left school to get hitched- it was just too much damn pressure. But Harry, unfortunately, was never privileged with a life of leisure. He knew all too well that his days were quite possibly numbered, and he reasoned that he might as well spend them as happy as he could possibly be. He also knew that he was never as happy anywhere else as he was with Ginny.
He had to tell her about the prophecy first. It wouldn't be fair to have her completely elated about him proposing and then to just sneak in a statement to the likes of "oh, and by the way…" He couldn't do that to her. The only problem was that he also didn't think he could make it through Hermione's entire speech before passing out from nerves.
And then he thought of it. His and Hermione's meeting with Dumbledore. Harry grinned to himself. The Pensieve he had bought from Madam Amanda had not only proven itself to be a rather excellent way to organize one's thoughts, but now Harry was deeming it as quite the investment.
. Harry had been up since six, nervously pacing the floors of the Sixth Year Boys' room, until Seamus threatened to hex him if he didn't take his "infernal poundings elsewhere". It was the last Hogsmeade weekend of the year before Christmas Holiday, and Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny, even if they had been allowed to go, would have elected to spend the Saturday holed up in Gryffindor tower where it was nice and warm. Hermione (when Harry had informed her of his plans for that afternoon) headed immediately to the Library to research Magical Weddings and Binding Spells to find a suitable ceremony to be performed once Ginny had said yes.
Harry, of course, had turned green at the thought and whispered frantically to his best female friend, "But Hermione, what if she says NO?"
Hermione had laughed in his face, told him "not to be silly" and marched off to the library, leaving a frightened Harry with shaking knees in her wake. Ron, on the other hand, simply shrugged and said "Well, mate, if you must you must. Just be prepared for lots of agony from Fred and George over holiday," and headed to the corner of the common room to play himself at chess. Ron was taking every preliminary measure he could to be sure to best Malfoy at the tournament they were having the last night before Holiday.
This had left Harry standing quite alone by the stairs to the boys' dormitory, feeling as though he might throw up.
It was nearly 10, and still no sign of Ginny. Harry supposed she was having a lie in, what with her O.W.L. studies wearing her out. She and Harry had stayed up until nearly two in the morning the previous night, with Harry painstakingly trying to describe to her the effects of the Polyjuice potion so she would be sure to get full marks for that question on her writing examination. It was then that Ginny had decided to walk down the stairs, yawning, carrying Tonic in the crook of her arm. Harry thought he'd never seen her look prettier in her life than she did at that moment.
Her hair was bed-tousled, and piled in a messy ponytail high on the back of her head (so it wouldn't interfere with her head on the pillow, Harry imagined). An old pair of yellow sweatpants (most likely Charlie's) hung loosely around her hips, and had been cropped off with a neatly applied severing charm halfway up her calf. Her shirt, (Harry grinned as he recognized it as his own from second year) was an old Gryffindor Quidditch Team Jersey, maroon, with Harry's surname emblazoned in gold on the back with a large number 7 underneath. Harry grinned stupidly as she walked over to him and kissed him on the cheek.
"Morning, love," she yawned, scratching Tonic behind the ears. "Your lovely little present here mewed me awake this morning, begging to be let out."
Harry simply stood there, absently petting Tonic's back as he smiled, gazing transfixed at Ginny's face.
"What?" she asked, looking at Harry with his strange, blank expression. "Have I got something on my nose?" She immediately raised a hand and began rubbing it furiously, as if trying to get off some piece of invisible dirt.
Harry laughed, and pulled her hand away, kissing the back of it. "No, Gin, you haven't."
"Oh, good. You sure were looking at me as if a Crumple-Horned Snorkak had sat itself there."
"Well," Harry replied, squinting his eyes, as if looking for signs of dirt or snorkaks he might have missed, "you have got something right… about… here." He leaned forward, and kissed the tip of her nose. Leaning back, he looked again.
"Good God, Gin! They're everywhere! Little brown spots!"
Ginny dropped Tonic lightly to the floor and raised her arms in self-defense, as Harry leaned in to kiss away the freckles that he swore were 'attacking her face'.
"Harry!" she giggled, "I sure hope you don't try to cure Ron of his freckles this way!"
Harry ceased immediately, his lips half way to her neck, just below her right ear. Gazing up into her eyes, he shuddered.
"Ew, Gin. That's gross. And I don't even want to THINK about how Hermione cures Ron's Freckle-itis."
"Freckle-itis?" Ginny smirked.
Harry nodded vigorously. "Yup. Exactly. Severe covering in freckles, and I'm sure your whole family's got it."
Ginny laughed, and her stomach gave a loud growl. "Mmm, food time. Want to come to the Great Hall with me?"
Harry smiled, it was just getting better.
"Nah. Let's ask Dobby if he'll bring us something up here instead. We can eat in my room."
"Like breakfast in bed?" Ginny asked, seeming pleased with the idea. "Sounds great. Let me get my slippers. I'll catch you up."
She bounded back up the stairs to the Girls' Dormitory, and Harry glanced at Ron who was concentrating deeply on the chessboard in front of him. Taking a deep breath, he headed up the stairs to call Dobby.
By the time Ginny had entered the room with her slippers and a throw quilt her mum had made her, Harry had several breakfast items spread out on a tray on his comforter. Ginny opened the curtains of the bed she was amazed to see the amount of food Dobby had provided: a bowl of porridge with 2 spoons and assorted toppings, small pile of crumpets with honey, another bowl (which was meant to be musli but was covered in an assortment of fruit), strawberries and scones with blueberry marmalade.
"Mmm, this looks delicious!" Ginny commented, eyeing the food hungrily. "Dobby is the best."
Harry nodded and buttered a warm crumpet for her, passing it across their tiny 'table'.
"We should do this every Saturday," Ginny declared, as she popped a strawberry into her mouth and reached for the porridge.
Harry laughed, enjoying the sight of her. The Weasleys could eat, there was no doubt about that, and he was glad that Ginny wasn't like most girls- she never fussed about her weight. She and Hermione both declared they "didn't care how much they weighed, as long as their clothes still fit." Harry thought it was a good philosophy, but couldn't help but laugh to himself. If knowing Ginny for nearly six years had taught him anything, it was that she hardly ever wore clothes of her own outside of her school uniform. She was always nicking stuff her brothers couldn't fit into any more, a trait that Harry found highly endearing. He enjoyed hiding under his Invisibility cloak and scaring her when she thought he wasn't there and had snuck up to his room to nick socks out of his trunk.
"So how have your meetings with Dumbledore been going?" Ginny asked, reaching across the table for another pastry.
"Pretty well," Harry answered, attempting to nibble on a peach. He never was one for eating when he was nervous, and he had never been more anxious in his life. "Professor Luenebraum and I have been coming up with a lot of new defensive techniques, and Hermione's already looking into more effective stunners for us."
"Wow," Ginny breathed, "this is really happening, isn't it?"
Harry nodded. "Well, it's best to be prepared, don't you think?"
"Of course!" Ginny agreed, speaking through a mouthful of bread. "You can never be too prepared. I would rather know too much and never have to use it than be caught losing my head with worry."
Harry agreed, and absent-mindedly floated a strawberry with his hand.
"You're getting really good at that stuff, you know that?"
Shrugging, Harry levitated it over in front of Ginny, and she leaned in and caught it with her teeth.
"Is something wrong, Harry? You're awfully quiet, even for you."
"I know," he admitted. He could never lie to Ginny, even if he had wanted to, which he didn't. "I've got a lot to think about, and it's been piling up lately. I'm worried about everything- you, my classes, Dumbledore, you, Hermione, your family (did I mention you yet?), defensive strategies, Voldemort—"
Ginny cut him off with a wave of her hand. "Harry- there's nothing you can do about those things. Don't worry about the things you can't change—because you can't change them, no matter what. Voldemort will always be an arse, so why spend your days miserable worrying about it when you already know it's true?
Harry smiled. Ginny always had a way of putting things bluntly in perspective. It was harshly grounding sometimes, but being grounded was definitely something Harry needed.
"And besides," she continued, as she banished the tray with her wand, "you shouldn't worry about the things you CAN change, because you CAN CHANGE them. See? Makes life a lot simpler, doesn't it?"
"You're right, Gin." Harry smiled in spite of himself. "You're absolutely right."
Ginny grinned, and stretched out on his bed. "This isn't fair, your bed is a lot more comfy than mine. How is that possible?"
Harry shrugged, and lay down beside her. He sighed contentedly when Ginny's fingers found his hair and began navigating their way through his messy locks. They lay that way for a while, content in each others silent company and letting their food settle, before Harry sat up and grabbed his Pensieve from his bedside cabinet.
Helping Ginny sit up, they sat on the edge of the bed together staring into the swirling masses that occupied the magical object.
"Wow, you've certainly added a lot of memories to that since I last saw it, haven't you?"
"Well, like I said, I've had a lot to think about. That's what I wanted to show you, I guess. What I've been thinking about lately. I've got a lot to worry about, and I want you to be able to understand why I've been freaking out so much."
Ginny grabbed his hand, and looked deep into his eyes, the concern in her brown ones matching the height of the anxiety in Harry's green.
"Of course, love. We'll make it through together, I don't want you to have to do this alone."
Harry grinned, and laughed to himself. "Well, Gin, you get your wish. There's no possibly way I could do this alone."
Stirring the contents of the basin with his wand, Harry pulled the appropriate memory to the surface: the one of his and Hermione's meeting with Dumbledore about Hermione's thoughts on the prophecy. Leaning forward, Harry and Ginny tumbled head first into the basin, landing neatly in the Headmaster's office. Harry stood slightly behind Ginny during the entire memory, not being able to bear the thought of looking at her face and seeing her possible disgust or hurt. When the memory finished, Ginny turned to him and grabbed his hand. She was smiling, and this just confused Harry even more.
Using his hand to lift her by the elbow, together they rose from the Pensieve and fell back onto Harry's bed. He turned to Ginny and bit his lip, bracing himself for a number of possible reactions.
Ginny was giggling. Softly, but giggling all the same.
"Oh, Harry, honestly," she grinned, reaching up to lightly run her fingertips down his cheek. "If you wanted to sleep with me, all you had to do was ask!"
Harry gaped at her. "Huh?"
He mentally smacked himself. The girl of his dreams had just said that if he wanted to sleep with her, all he had to do was "ask", and the most intelligent thing he could say was 'huh'.
Harry groaned internally, 'Merlin, I am such an idiot sometimes.'
Ginny smiled at him, and leaned forward, brushing her lips against his.
"I said," she repeated softly, her cheeks reddening slightly, "all you had to do was ask."
Harry grinned, and then leaned over, pushing Ginny back on the bed as he kissed her.
"Oh yeah? That easy huh?"
Ginny laughed, and pushed him off, sitting up once again and straightening her pajamas.
"Ok, well, maybe not that easy. I do require some effort you know, Mr. Potter."
Harry put his arms behind his head and relaxed. "Effort, huh? Like maybe breakfasting in bed and curing your freckle-itis kind of effort?"
Ginny laughed, tossing her head back, and lay down cuddled next to Harry once more.
"Maybe…"
Harry sat up, and once again pulled her with him. Smiling, he said, "I think I have just the thing."
Stirring the contents of his Pensieve once more, Harry and Ginny dove into another memory and landed once again in Dumbledore's office. This time, memory Harry was pulling off his Invisibility cloak, saying goodbye and walking out the door. The real Harry grabbed Ginny's hand and followed the memory Harry down the staircase and into the corridor.
"Where are we going?" Ginny asked, as they followed Harry's memory self through a series of hidden hallways.
"You'll see," Harry replied, grinning mischievously.
They soon arrived at the Portrait Hole to Gryffindor tower, and followed the memory Harry through the common room and up to the Dormitory they had just left. Memory Harry was stuffing his Invisibility cloak inside his bag and hanging up his winter cloak by the door looking around as if to make sure no one was there. Reassured that he was alone, memory Harry kicked off his shoes and jumped on his bed. He grabbed the curtains quickly, and the real Harry had just barely enough time to pull Ginny with him on the bed before they closed.
"Harry," Ginny whispered, "what are you—um, memory you—doing?"
"Shh!" Harry whispered frantically. "You're going to miss it!"
Ginny gave him one last curious look before she contented herself with watching Harry's memory self lay down on his bed, tossing fitfully, as if trying to make up his mind about something. Finally, he sat up, and reached into the pocket of his robes with a shaking hand. He pulled out a small, red velvet box and opened it carefully, as if he were afraid it would break. Ginny was about to lean over to see what was inside when memory Harry pulled it out and looked at it between his index finger and thumb.
Ginny gasped, and Harry watched as her eyes widened to rival Luna Lovegood's protruding stare.
Memory Harry had opened his mouth, and was about to speak. Ginny leaned in closer, the Diamond ring bought from The Rough the only thing separating them, although Ginny didn't seem to be looking at it at all. Her focus was completely on memory Harry's eyes. She blinked back tears, just as Harry leaned in and whispered along with his memory self,
"Ginevra Molly Weasley, will you marry me?"