Chapter Thirty
The Ministry Gala
Ginny was pulled from sleep when she felt the warmth of the comforter tugged off her shoulder. Drowsily, she went to pull it back when she realized she'd kicked it off herself, and the majority of luxurious blankets were huddled around her feet. She had a habit when she slept to steal the covers from Harry, and of course, he let her – with minimal complaining. Sitting up, she could tell it was still very early, pre-dawn even. She tugged the sheets and comforter back in place, pulling them back over a sleeping Harry, too.
He was curled on his side – huddled for warmth, probably – and she snuggled closer, attempting to share some body heat on this cold, December morning. They'd arrived at the posh hotel last evening, both of them ravenous. Somehow, neither had managed to eat very much at their own wedding feast. Harry had ordered room service, and they'd gorged themselves on the sumptuous fare.
The hotel was exquisite, and Ginny could only imagine how much it must've cost. Harry had told her not to worry about it, but old habits died hard. She made a decent salary as a Quidditch player, and Harry had signed her name onto all his accounts, but her frugal beginnings had shaped who she was.
After they'd eaten their fill – they'd consummated their marriage – several times. Ginny thought she should still be tired at this early hour, but in truth, she was wide awake. She lifted her hand in the air, staring at the rings on her finger. The room was still very dark, but she could make them out. She liked how they looked on her finger, and she liked the way they sparkled when the light hit them. She'd have to wait for the sun to rise, she supposed.
The Ministry Gala was scheduled for that evening, so they had the whole day to do whatever they liked. Harry had booked the room for another night. He said they'd be leaving for their honeymoon in the morning. He still hadn't told her where they were going, and it was driving her spare not knowing, but fun to imagine. Harry had told her to pack warmly, so they certainly weren't headed anywhere tropical.
She sighed, glancing up at Harry's sleeping face. He was breathing deeply and showed no sign of waking. Ginny tried not to pout. She wondered what kind of breakfast food they could get from that room service menu. She'd found she liked room service very much. Grey, pre-dawn light was seeping through the gap left in the curtain, and she thought it was probably still too early for room service, even. She should probably go back to sleep, but she felt so alert.
Memories of her wedding day flashed in front of her face like the moving picture shows Harry sometimes brought her to see: Luna's tattoo, her dad walking her down the aisle; Harry's tender expression; dancing with her brothers, and Siobhan and Seamus making a spectacle of themselves with their exuberant dancing.
Merlin, she loved them all.
She stretched out, accidentally kicking Harry, although he still didn't wake. She contemplated kicking him harder but restrained herself. Barely. Her stomach rumbled, and she vaguely wondered if there was anything left from dinner the previous evening. Reaching onto her bedside table, she picked up a sweet wrapped in foil that had been left on her pillow. She unwrapped it happily and stuck it in her mouth, groaning with pleasure as the chocolate mint melted on her tongue.
Unfortunately, it did nothing to appease her hunger, but only whetted her appetite. She sighed dramatically, finally giving up and poking Harry on the chest. It took several pokes to drag him into wakefulness.
"Harry, wake up," she said, not bothering to keep her voice low.
"S'matter?" Harry mumbled drowsily, his eyes still closed.
"Nothing is the matter. We're married, you know," she said, her voice hushed now as if it were some huge secret. She burrowed herself back into the warmth of his chest.
A slow, lazy smile spread across his face, and his sleepy eyes fluttered open. "Morning, wife," he said.
"Morning, husband," she replied, beaming. "D'you think we could order room service again for some breakfast?"
"What's the time?" Harry asked, obviously not nearly as awake as Ginny.
"It's about half five," she said, peering over him at the clock with the light-up display numbers. "Do you think that's too early to call for breakfast?"
"It's a bit early. I know what we can do to pass some time first," he said, reaching for her, his body perking up a bit.
"Harry – I'm starving," she moaned.
"I should've remembered I married a Weasley," he said, chuckling. "All right. Let me call and see if they'll bring breakfast to the honeymoon suite at this ungodly hour of the morning."
He pulled himself into a seated position and reached for the telephone on the bedside table. Ginny used the loo, deciding if she was awake, she might as well commit to it.
"Breakfast will be delivered shortly," he said once she emerged from the bathroom wearing one of the big, fluffy dressing gowns she'd found inside. He looked exhausted, and she felt a fluttering of guilt over waking him as he rubbed his sleep-encrusted eyes. "What time is this Ministry person coming, anyway?"
Despite the fact Harry and Ginny had prepared themselves for their wedding – well, Ginny did have a spot of help from Fleur, she conceded – Marietta had decided they needed a Ministry stylist to prepare them for the gala. Ginny was certain it was in retribution for the fact she'd refused to allow the Ministry any influence over their clothing choices.
"Marietta said they'd be here at four o'clock," Ginny said, sighing.
"What are we supposed to do with them for two hours?" Harry asked, eyes bulging.
"They're going to attempt to get your hair to lie flat. Honestly, I don't think two hours is near enough time," Ginny quipped.
Harry rolled his eyes at her. "Funny."
Ginny smirked. "We're supposed to meet them in the lobby and bring them up here. There was no way I was telling them the room number ahead of time," she said.
"Good thinking. We probably would've had a Daily Prophet reporter in here secretly documenting when we made our marriage official," he said, snorting.
A sly smile crossed Ginny's face. "They would've had to have been back at Hogwarts for that," she said coyly.
She delighted in the pinkness that lit up Harry's cheeks.
"I really wish we hadn't agreed to this whole thing," he grumbled. "We had our wedding. Honestly, this seems like overkill."
"I know," Ginny replied, sighing. He'd expressed this concern repeatedly in the past. "We told everyone not to feel obliged to go to both. Quite honestly, everyone but us seems really eager to attend. I suppose there's not a whole lot else to do, being mid-winter, and all."
"Really, though, what is the stylist going to do to us?" he asked, unmollified.
"Nothing too embarrassing, Harry," she said gently. "A few charms to press our robes, style our hair, make-up for the photographs that I'm certain they'll require us to take."
"More photographs?" he asked, groaning. "They took about a million yesterday. And they're not putting any make-up on me."
"You can tell them so, then," Ginny said, amused.
"I will," he said, grumpily.
There was a discreet knock on the door, and Harry quickly grabbed some Muggle money and slipped on one of the fluffy dressing gowns. A hotel employee wheeled in a breakfast tray holding covered silver platters set on a lacy white cloth.
Ginny's stomach rumbled.
They enjoyed their fancy breakfast, then spent most of the day doing what typical newlywed couples did. Fortunately for Harry, both of them managed a leisurely nap so they'd be ready for the night's festivities. At four o'clock, they were seated in the hotel's elaborate lobby, awaiting the Ministry stylist. Harry looked decidedly less happy than he had the entire afternoon.
They'd perched themselves behind a large potted plant that allowed them to observe the entryway without being readily visible. Harry thought it would be easy to spot someone from the Ministry, as they were never all that good at blending in with the Muggles. Ginny enjoyed watching the many Muggles bustle about with their daily activities. Harry, hair still wet as he'd insisted on having his shower before the stylist arrived, explained various things to her as they observed the Muggles.
Ginny felt Harry stiffen beside her as she was watching one particular hotel worker attempting to balance a large number of food trays. She turned to see not only the Ministry stylist – a dark-haired witch with elaborately-styled curls – but two support staff following closely in her wake. One was male with thinning hair and wearing a poufy purple ascot, the other… Ginny's heart sank… was Romilda Vane.
"They have to be bloody kidding me," Harry bit out through gritted teeth. "Don't eat or drink anything she gives you."
"I'm not stupid," Ginny said, watching the trio searching haplessly for them. Neither Harry nor Ginny made any attempt to help them out.
It was the wizard who spotted them first, pointing at them excitedly and saying something to his co-workers that Ginny couldn't hear. They made their way toward the couple. The stylist and the wizard looked beyond excited, but Ginny thought she detected something predatory in Romilda's dark eyes. She conceded that might only be down to the fact that Ginny couldn't stand her.
The stylist reached them first and immediately kissed both Harry and Ginny on each check as if they were old friends. Ginny estimated the witch was in her forties with olive skin and tightly set curls. Ginny suspected she might've used the same charm Fleur had used on Ginny's hair the day before.
"Oh, I'm so delighted to meet you. It's an honor to meet the recently deposed Most Eligible Bachelor in Wizarding Britain and the star Chaser of my most favorite Quidditch team," she gushed, barely pausing for breath. "I'm Effie Makemova, the Ministry stylist who's been given this lush assignment. Thank heavens for my long-term, outstanding relationship with Gladys Flint. I've worked with her on dozens of events like this, although I think this one is to be my crowning jewel. These are my two assistants, Bruce Hornby and Romilda Vane."
Effie's sharp eyes swept over both Ginny and Harry as she spoke, pausing on his wet hair, and Ginny's tousled curls. Most of Fleur's charm had worn off between all the dancing and her night-time exploits, not to mention sleeping on them.
"Marietta didn't tell me that you'd be bringing assistants," Ginny said, not bothering to conceal the accusation in her tone.
Effie blinked, startled. "Oh… well, I always have assistants accompany me. It's a big job," she said, waving away Ginny's concerns. "I assure you, Bruce is excellent at noticing small details, and Romilda told me she knew both of you."
"Did she mention that she once tried to slip my husband a love potion?" Ginny asked coolly.
Effie's mouth opened and closed, fish like. She cast an alarmed look at Romilda, who smiled widely.
"Oh, pish-posh, that was just ages ago," Romilda said. "I think I was only a second-year. Everyone was trying to get to Harry back then, but he's spoken for now, right?"
"As I recall, you were a bit older than that, but I was onto you, anyway," Harry said stiffly, wrapping his arm around Ginny.
"Well, of course you were. It was a clumsy attempt by a silly, lovestruck little girl, right? We've all grown up since those days," Romilda said, batting her eyes.
"All right, chop-chop. We need to get a move on if we're going to make it to this party on time, and it won't do to be late," Effie said, shaking off her disconcertion. She glared at Romilda, who ignored her.
When they had all entered the lift, Harry maneuvered his body to conceal the display panel, so they couldn't read which floor he'd pushed. Romilda tried several times to crane her neck, but Ginny kept shifting to block her. As they walked along the hallway to their room, she noticed Harry fingering his wand in his pocket.
Romilda paused as if confused, shaking her head as if she had water in her ears. Harry hurriedly ushered them all inside the vast honeymoon suite.
Ginny had been worried about the messy state they'd left the room and what comments would be made about its shambles, but she needn't have worried. The hotel staff had obviously been in whilst they were downstairs to tidy up room.
Ginny let out a small sigh of relief. Other than Romilda's presence, so far, so good. None of them would be able to tell a reporter exactly where Harry and Ginny were staying, if they'd been so inclined.
"It's such an honor to be assisting you today, Mr. Potter. I've been a long-time fan, and I only want to help you present your best self. I realize there is very little for me to do," Bruce gushed, shaking Harry's hand enthusiastically.
"Er," Harry said awkwardly, flummoxed.
Ginny snorted. In all the scenarios Harry had envisioned for this stylist, she didn't think he'd ever once consider that he'd have a gushing bloke crushing on him. If she wasn't so hacked off by Romilda's presence, she'd be amused.
"Now, we have a lot to do, so multi-tasking will be essential. Both of you can start with showers, and let me take a look at your dress robes. I understand you've chosen a non-Ministry-approved designer, but I assure you, I'm quite capable of alterations. We'll have you both up to snuff in time for the party," Effie said, her eyes constantly moving over the layout of the suite.
Ginny was stung by this. "I assure you, there's nothing wrong with the dress robes. They're quite stunning, actually," she said through clenched teeth.
"Yes, I'm certain they are, but why don't you let me be the judge of that. Now, showers for both of you so we can begin hair and make-up," Effie said dismissively.
"I've had my shower before we went downstairs to greet you," Harry said.
Effie pressed her lips together, taking a deep breath. "Right. Bruce has brought along several wonderful products designed specifically for men, and I think–"
"I assure you, I'm fine," Harry interrupted firmly." I think we need to get something straight. You are here at the Ministry's request, not ours. You're making suggestions, but we are in no way required to oblige. Neither my wife, nor I, will be eating anything in that one's presence," he nodded toward Romilda, "and you all will Disapparate from this room ahead of us. Do I make myself clear?"
"Mr. Potter, I understand security is a high concern, but we mean you no harm. There really is no need for all this cloak and dagger," Effie said, placating.
"I'll be the judge of that," Harry replied, his tone brooking no argument. "Ginny, do you want to have a shower?"
Ginny smiled widely at the way he'd taken over. The Ministry workers were all staring at him with eyes wide, mouths agape. "Yes, I think I will – but I'm using my own Wonder Witch products, thank you very much," she said pointedly.
"I could assist with handing you anything you need," Romilda said, still attempting to insert herself wherever she saw the opportunity.
"I've bathed myself on my own for years, and miraculously enough, have managed it. I'll be out shortly," Ginny said, closing the door behind her and leaving Romilda standing on the other side. After a moment, she cracked it slightly in order to hear what was going on. It had never occurred to her that she could use an Extendable Ear on her honeymoon!
"Bruce, you've welcome to attempt to tame my hair, but I'll give you fair warning, no one has managed it yet," Harry said. He'd obviously resigned himself to getting this done and over with.
"I'll give it a go – but honestly, it's a bit of a trademark, so we don't want to over-style it," Bruce said. Through the crack, Ginny could see he had one finger pressed over his lips as he perused Harry's hair.
"I think you and I will get on just fine, Bruce. Effie, the robes are hanging in the wardrobe. No alterations are to be made without our express permission. Agreed?" Harry asked.
"Yes, Mr. Potter," Effie said, disgruntled.
Ginny shut the door and proceeded to have her shower. When she was finished, she once again cracked the door slightly to peek at what was going on. Harry's hair was sleek and stylish, although still poking up in the back. She knew from experience that the more time that went by, the more unruly his hair would become. Bruce was putting a bit of powder on a very disgruntled Harry's face. Effie was still examining the dress robes, and Romilda…
Romilda was wandering around, staring at the elegant room longingly, running her hand lovingly along the bed.
Ginny shuddered, pushing open the bathroom door and causing Romilda to jump, looking guilty.
"There you are, Ginny. Good, good. Romilda, get started on her hair. Let me see your nails, Mrs. Potter," Effie demanded.
"Did the dress robes meet your high standards?" Ginny asked. Effie didn't catch her sarcasm, but Harry stuffed his knuckle in his mouth, causing Bruce to slap it away and reapply his powder.
"They're quite good, actually. The truth remains in the fit, but they are much better than I'd been anticipating," Effie replied grudgingly.
"Here, Mr. Potter. You're ready to put yours on. Please mind not to smudge your face. Do you need any assistance?" Bruce asked hopefully.
Startled, Harry snatched the robes and strode toward the bathroom. "I can manage, thanks," he said.
While Romilda tugged a comb through Ginny's hair, Harry emerged from the bathroom wearing his dark grey dress robes. They had a lighter grey material on the trim, with the same silver threading as on Ginny's robes.
"These robes are spectacular. You look good enough to eat," Bruce said, gushing. He looked as if he was considering taking a bite.
"Er," Harry said ineloquently.
"The silver thread catches the light, and you nearly shine. Oh, wait until the photographer gets a look at you. You'll have some competition for his attention, Mrs. Potter," Bruce said, continuing to gush.
Ginny nearly choked at the horrified expression on Harry's face. Bruce winked at her across the room.
"How's the fit on the shoulders?" Effie asked critically, as if determined to find something she didn't like about the dress robes.
"It's impeccable. Just look at him," Bruce raved.
"How about his arse?" Romilda asked bluntly, one comb clenched in her teeth, the other in Ginny's hair. She tugged rather hard on a tangle, making Ginny wince.
"I could bounce a Knut off him," Bruce replied, pressing his lips together appreciatively.
"Er," Harry said warily.
When it was time for Ginny to get into her own dress robes, she slipped them over her head, staring at herself in the mirror. The material was light and flowy and felt as if she were wearing flimsy lingerie rather than dress robes. The silver threading caught the light, shining beautifully. The robes cinched in at her waist then fell delicately to the floor.
Ginny emerged hesitantly, certain Effie would find fault. Harry disentangled himself from Bruce's fussing and strode across the room to her, kissing her fully. "You look stunning," he said.
Effie hurriedly followed, pulling him back. "Don't smudge her lipstick," she snapped, carefully examining Ginny's robes.
"Well?" Ginny asked aggressively.
"They'll do," Effie said, grudgingly.
"Why are you so determined to dislike perfectly lovely dress robes? Because they weren't designed by one of your old cronies?" Ginny asked.
Effie looked affronted. "I said no such thing."
"No, but your attitude does. The robes were designed by Patil Squared at one oh three Diagon Alley. Please be certain to include the information in the press clippings," she said, speaking to Bruce rather than Effie or Romilda. He was the only one she trusted.
"On that note, I think we should get to the Ministry," Harry said, indicating the stylists should Disapparate. The Potters were supposed to arrive before the guests in order to take more photographs, then be introduced to the ballroom later.
Harry cast a few security charms on the room before extending his hand to Ginny.
"Are you ready for this?" she asked, grinning and taking his hand.
"As ready as I'm ever going to be."
/* /* /* /*
Harry fidgeted behind the closed door that led to the Ministry ballroom. He was closeted in a small room with the rest of his wedding party, awaiting their introduction. The photographs had taken much longer than anticipated because of some trouble the photographer was having with glare. It wasn't until Ginny had hissed, "Harry, cut it out!" that he realized he might've been wishing too hard to be finished, and his magic had acted of its own accord. Once he became aware of this, the photographs were able to be completed.
He was here, he was dressed up, and he was with all of his most favorite people in the world. What was the point in continuing to grumble about the Ministry's heavy handedness? He remembered something Arthur had once told him about having to bear the burden of being the symbol of their victory, but he might as well enjoy a good party.
He glanced down at his grinning wife. She looked lovely in her shimmering dress robes, and excited to see everyone else. Hermione and Luna were both dressed in soft, ice-blue robes made of the same shimmery material as Ginny's. They looked as if they were made of winter itself.
"Are you ready for this?" Ginny asked, adjusting his boutonniere.
Harry had been touched when Bruce had attached it before the photographs were taken. "It's a lily," he'd whispered, "so your mum can be part of the festivities."
Harry had hated the whole idea of a stylist, but he had to admit, Bruce had been all right. He glanced over and received the thumbs up from the wizard in question, who was standing back and watching the proceedings, ready to jump in at a moment's notice should there be a wardrobe malfunction.
"I'm ready. Let's begin, yeah?" he asked.
The Minister's voice sounded from inside the ballroom, and Harry could just imagine the restless crowd on the other side of the door settling down.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the Ministry. I'm glad you were able to enjoy all the fine spirits and elf-made wine while awaiting our guests of honor."
They could hear laughter spread across the ballroom.
"Yesterday, the wizard whom we all fondly think of as our savior married one of our favorite Quidditch sensations. Today, they're both here to celebrate their joy and happy occasion with us. I ask you to stand and raise a glass while I introduce the wedding party," Kingsley's rich baritone rang across the entire room.
Harry was grateful to the Minister for keeping the introduction brief and focused more on why they were there rather than anything that had happened in the past. Harry had requested this, and he was pleased that the Minister, at least, had listened.
"First, please welcome the attendants, Luna Lovegood and George Weasley," Kingsley said.
Luna took George's proffered arm, and the others stood back as the door was opened and Luna and George slipped through the closing door to a roar of applause. George kept pausing to bow and wave to the crowd, blowing kisses as if he were a beauty pageant contestant.
Harry had a brief glimpse of the ballroom, which was decorated like a winter wonderland in white and blue. White roses, lilies, gardenias, orchids, iris, larkspur and many other flowers Harry couldn't name adorned the tables and hung in displays on the gleaming columns.
"Oh, the flowers are beautiful," Ginny breathed. "I'd wanted color for my bridal bouquet, but I'll admit Marietta was right about the all-white theme for this event."
"And our second pair of attendants, names you'll all recognize, Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley," the Minister said.
"Let's show 'em how's it done," Ron said, grinning as Hermione took his arm. The shout of cheers and applause was even louder as Ron and Hermione entered the ballroom.
This was it. Harry wiped his sweaty palm on his dress robes before taking Ginny's hand.
"Honestly," Bruce grumbled, quickly hurrying over and casting a cleaning charm to the spot. Waggling his finger in a "behave" sort of motion, he re-pressed Harry's robes.
"Sorry," Harry muttered whilst Ginny giggled.
"And finally, may I present the couple you've all been waiting to see, the newlyweds, Harry and Ginny Potter," the Minister called.
Harry and Ginny entered to a deafening roar that caused them both to startle for a moment. Harry tightened his grip on Ginny's hand and walked into the room, waving at the cheering crowd. He could see Gawain Robards and several other department heads standing in a row beside the Minister. He recognized the Quidditch League Commissioner amongst them.
They stopped in front of the Minister, shaking his hand. They turned toward the crowd, and Harry saw Bruce miming to add the Sonorus Charm to his throat.
"Ginny and I would like to thank you all for coming to join in our celebration. As you're all aware, there were several times I feared this day would never happen, but thankfully that proved unfounded," he said, fighting the urge to fidget.
"We're both looking forward to starting our lives together with this party. After that, we hope for a bit of privacy as we accustom ourselves to married life," Ginny said, raising her chin in defiance. Marietta had told her to avoid making any such statement. Harry knew she would as soon as Marietta had told her not to.
The couple began shaking hands and making their way down the long reception line of high-ranking Ministry officials, Quidditch League bureaucrats and – Harry was certain – big donors to various pet causes. He reckoned this was the real reason so many of them wanted this function to happen.
Once they were finally finished, the couple was hailed by Owen and several other Aurors huddled in a group. Owen slapped Harry on the back, and offered Ginny a glass of wine, which she accepted gratefully.
"And here are our celebrities," Owen said, his voice dripping with mock sarcasm. "It's about time you came over to say hello."
"Hi, Harry! This must be your lovely wife," Ethan said, shouldering his way to the front and reaching out to shake Ginny's hand. "I'm Ethan Zeelus. I work with Harry."
"It's so nice to meet you, Ethan. Harry has told me so much about you," Ginny said with a perfectly straight face.
Harry choked on the lager Owen had placed in his hands.
"Oh, I've heard all about you, too. It's such a great honor to be working with Harry. He's really amazing, but I'm certain you know that. If you need anything at all while you're away, don't hesitate to ask. I can feed any pets, or water plants, or… just anything," Ethan said with such sincere honesty, Harry could see even Ginny was taken aback. Ethan took some getting used to.
"Thanks very much, Ethan, but we have housemates to take care of that," he said smoothly.
"So, are you ready to spill on where you're going on this honeymoon?" Owen asked, smirking. He'd been trying to wheedle it out of Harry for ages.
"I doubt it," Ginny said, casting a scowl in Harry's direction. "He won't even tell me."
"I've been trying to look into it, but he's covered his tracks really well. I suppose that comes with being such a good Auror," Ethan said, coloring when three pairs of startled eyes turned towards him.
"You've been trying to research where he's going on his honeymoon?" Owen asked incredulously. "I mean, half the fun is taking the mickey."
As Harry and Ginny walked away, she leaned into him, "I'm sorry for all the times I teased you about Ethan. You really do have to put up with a lot."
"I'll remind you of that the next time, then," Harry replied, grinning. They made their way to the table that had been set up at the front of the room. Harry had assumed they'd be seated with the wedding party, but the Weasleys were all together at a large table off to the side. Harry and Ginny were seated with the Minister and several dignitaries, including the Quidditch Commissioner, Hubert Marcellos, and his wife, Octavia.
Harry stared longingly over at the Weasley table, already roaring with laughter. Angelina had squeezed in next to George, leaving Luna next to Charlie. Both were engaged in animated conversation and Harry couldn't help but wonder what they could be talking about. Probably some sort of never-before-heard-of dragon breed, if Luna had her way.
Harry and Ginny's table held Royden Gray from the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, and his wife, Madam Gray, who was apparently some high-ranking member of the Wizengamot, in addition to Mr. and Mrs. Greengrass. Ginny had whispered that their daughter, Astoria, had left Hogwarts with her and had been Head Girl. Astoria also currently worked for Royden Gray. Harry's heart sank, reckoning he was in for very political dinner discussion.
He was pleasantly surprised, however, when Hubert Marcellos turned out to be much more personable than expected. He and his wife were both huge Quidditch fans, and Octavia had once played Chaser for Ravenclaw when she'd been at Hogwarts. She and Ginny hit it off fabulously. Both the Grays and the Greengrasses tried several times to turn the conversation to other matters, but Ginny deftly kept the talk on Quidditch. Both the Minister and his wife joined in on the lively discussion. Harry wasn't certain he remembered Kingsley ever being a huge fan, but when he subtly winked at Harry across the table, Harry realized both the Shacklebolts were ensuring Harry and Ginny had a good time at their celebration.
Harry was amazed by his charming wife. She generally liked to talk, but when the subject was Quidditch, she just came to life, and the others were like moths around her bright flame. He usually struggled with having to speak at these functions, but she more than made up for his reserve, subtly drawing him into the conversation.
He was quite a lucky man.
As dinner wound down, several other members of the Quidditch League stopped by the table. Harry saw Ginny's teammates and Oliver Wood, who was one of the few guests actually on Harry and Ginny's personal list, approaching them.
"Oi, Potter, there you are," Oliver said, shaking Harry's hand.
Harry slid out his chair from the table, making room for Oliver to slide an extra one in while Ginny's teammates surrounded her. The Grays and the Greengrasses, apparently giving up on dragging Harry into a political discussion, moved away from the table, scowling.
"How are you, Oliver?" Harry asked.
"Quite a do. I've managed to get a word in with a few officials from other teams, which is highly useful. We're talking about getting a junior league started amongst some talented kids before they start at Hogwarts, get them pointed on the right track, you know?" Oliver asked.
"Sounds great for wizarding families," Harry said, feeling Muggleborn students would be at even more of a disadvantage. He remembered fearing that at his first flying lesson, but being relieved that he wasn't alone in being a novice.
"Yeah, I think so," Oliver said, completely missing – or ignoring – Harry's hesitancy. "I was thinking about the amount of Quidditch talent that any kids you and Ginny have will inherit. It's staggering to think about."
Harry felt his face growing red, and he tried to tamp it down. "Oh?"
"Yeah, between you and Weasley… er, Potter now, I suppose, well, that's something scouts are going to want to keep an eye on," Oliver said eagerly.
"Scouting for Puddlemere now, are you?" Harry asked, amused.
"Well, I can't play forever, can I? I need to think of my future, and I think this could be a good direction to go," Oliver said.
"So glad any future children Ginny and I might have suit your potential future needs," Harry said, sardonically.
Again, Oliver missed the sarcasm and slapped Harry on the back. "I know, right? It's best to keep an eye on these things now. Time flies, as you well know. In fact, there's a lot of talent in the Weasley family alone, and there should be a whole new generation of gingers running around Hogwarts in another few years."
"We can only hope," Harry said, thrilling at the idea. He wondered if Minerva McGonagall wanted to stay on as Headmistress long enough for that. He'd have to ask her. She was around here somewhere.
"Mr. Potter, may I offer my congratulations?" asked a rosy-cheeked man with a boyish face, pumping his hand enthusiastically.
Harry followed Oliver's lead and stood up to greet the man.
"Harry, this is Charles Brown, owner of the Chudley Cannons," Oliver introduced helpfully.
"Are you really?" Harry asked. "My friend, Ron, Ginny's brother, is a lifelong Cannons fan. I bet he'd love to meet you."
"Is he really?" Charles asked, looking bemused. "Can't say I find that all that often."
Harry stood on his tiptoes and waved his arms frantically at Ron, who was watching them longingly from the Weasley table. He perked up when he noticed Harry hailing him. Harry dropped his arms, feeling as if he was making a spectacle of himself. Perhaps he'd had more of the elf-made wine than he'd realized.
As Ron approached, Harry opened his mouth to make the introductions but found it was unnecessary.
"Charles Brown," Ron said, thunderstruck. He stuck out his hand and shook Charles Brown's proffered one enthusiastically. "It's an honor to meet you, sir. I've been a fan of the Chudley Cannons my whole life."
Harry quickly offered Ron his chair, because he thought Ron looked as if he might pass out at any moment. Ron didn't sit, but he grasped the back of the chair and leaned on it gratefully.
As Ron, Oliver and Charles descended into Quidditch talk, and Ginny was still surrounded by her team, Harry wandered over to the Weasley table. Percy and Audrey had left to socialize, but the rest of the family was still there, chatting happily. Luna and Charlie were engaged in deep conversation, and his curiosity was piqued. He took Percy's empty chair.
"Oh, Harry, dear, how are you? Did you get enough to eat?" Molly asked fussily. Harry thought it was part of her innate make-up to feed the people around her.
"I did, Molly. Thank you all for coming. I know we've monopolized your entire weekend," he said sheepishly.
"Don't be ridiculous, 'Arry," Fleur said, waving her hand in a brush-off moment. "Eet is a lovely party."
"Yeah, it's what families do, after all," Bill said, filling Harry with a strong gush of warmth inside. They were truly his family now.
"We've always been family to both of you, lad," Mr. Weasley said, as if knowing exactly what Harry was thinking.
Harry ducked his head, desperately seeking a change of subject. "Luna, you and Charlie seem to have hit it off," he said, his cheeks coloring. Perhaps that had been tactless.
"Yes, I've been filling him in on our upcoming expedition to locate the Crumple-Horned Snorkack. There's been another siting in Scandinavia, and my father is organizing the trip," Luna said earnestly.
"It sounds rather like a creature we've spotted several times around the encampment in Romania. It only rarely appears, but the dragons all get extremely feisty around every appearance," Charlie said, as if Luna sounded perfectly reasonable.
"It sounds to me like you might have a web-footed Gremelime on your hands. They consider dragon eggs a delicacy, you know," Luna said, blinking her wide, protuberant eyes.
"Hello, family. I thought I'd never get away," Ginny said, slipping into the chair beside Harry and kissing him on the cheek.
"I thought you were enjoying yourself," Harry asked, startled.
"I was. I love talking about Quidditch, in general, you know that, but Gwenog has begun a bit of pre-season training session, and I'm not ready for that yet," Ginny said, scowling at her team still huddled in a group. "Today is about celebrating our marriage."
"Who's that Ron is speaking with? He looks as if he's been Confunded," Hermione asked, watching Ron at the head table.
"Charles Brown, owner of the Chudley Cannons," Ginny supplied easily. "Ron is in heaven. He's regaling him with his thoughts on how the team can improve its standings."
"Oh, ho, you won't see him again tonight, Hermione," George said, laughing.
"I honestly don't understand how he can be so infatuated with that team. They're dreadful," Angelina said, shaking her head. Both she and George were studying Ron intently.
"You lot had all chosen your teams by the time Ron came along. As usual, he took the leftover," Ginny said, laughing.
Charlie clinked his glass with Ginny's. "Fair point," he said.
"Maybe so, but think where we all could be without Ron's loyalty. Even when he stumbled, he always came back stronger," Hermione said firmly.
Harry clinked his glass with Hermione's. "Cheers," he said.
"Harry, Ginny, Congratulations," Neville said, clapping Harry on the back and leaning over to kiss Ginny's cheek. He and Hannah beamed at the newlyweds.
"Hi, Neville, Hannah. It's so good of you to come to both parties," Ginny said.
"How is your grandmother, Neville?" Molly asked.
"She's well, thanks. She's over there telling off a few members of the Wizengamot," Neville said, tossing his head in her direction. "I haven't seen Andromeda tonight. She and Teddy both seemed to really enjoy themselves yesterday."
"I think they did. Andromeda chose not to attend this one. She's still not a huge fan of Ministry functions," Harry said. He suspected that Andromeda was rather tired after the wedding, although she'd never admit it.
"I can't blame her for that. I'm not a huge fan of Ministry functions, either," Neville said.
"Sorry," Harry said immediately.
"Of course you are. When aren't you sorry, Harry? Honestly, we're all here dressed in our party clothes, eating and drinking on the Ministry's gold, and chatting with friends and family. What's not to enjoy?" George asked, placing his hand over his heart dramatically.
Angelina elbowed him in the gut, but Molly approved. "Well said, George. It's nice to be here celebrating such a happy occasion, and who can blame people for being eager to attend the bonding of two such wonderful young people?"
"And you're not the least bit biased at all, are you, Mum?" Ginny asked, giggling at her mother fondly.
"That has nothing to do with it. The truth is the truth," Molly replied huffily. Arthur slid his arm around her back, patting it affectionately.
As the evening went on, and the crowd began to thin, Harry leaned over and whispered to Ginny. "What do you say if we make our exit? We have an early start tomorrow."
"We do? Where are we going?" she asked sharply.
"You'll see when we get there," he said, enjoying holding it over her; she really didn't like not knowing something.
She slid her small hand into his larger one. "I'll follow you anywhere," she said happily.
They were able to quietly skirt the edge of the ballroom and make their way outside. Harry had feared Marietta would've tried to have him make another speech. As they strolled the hallway toward the Atrium hand-in-hand, they found Vivian securing her cloak over her crimson dress robes.
"Hello, Vivian. Thanks for coming," Harry said.
Vivian graced them with one of her rare smiles. "I tend to avoid these smart Ministry parties, but this one was very nice. Congratulations to both of you. Enjoy your holiday. You've both earned it."
"Thanks to you," Ginny said. "If you hadn't worked so hard on that Draught, it might've been a very different outcome. I'll always remember that."
Vivian nodded graciously. "You made the situation most personal, but I'm pleased it all worked out in the end."
"So, what happens for you next? Back to skirting the Muggle world to see if any weird new diseases or symptoms appear?" Harry asked.
"You know I can't answer that," she replied.
"I know, but I thought I'd see if I could catch you off-guard," Harry said.
"I'll miss working with you, Mr. Potter. You were a pleasant surprise, and not at all what I'd expected. Should I ever need Auror assistance on a project again, you'll be top of my list," she said.
Harry felt his face grow warm. "He's rarely what anyone expects," Ginny replied, grinning at his embarrassment. "I'll send you some Harpies' tickets when the season resumes. I'd like to see you sporting the green and gold."
"That would be most welcome," Vivian replied. She glanced at the ruckus outside the door when someone else pushed it open. "Uh, oh – it looks as if the reporters are awaiting your exit."
Harry groaned. "Of course, they are." He should've known that Marietta had given in way too easily about not allowing reporters to attend the event. She wasn't going to let them get away without any added publicity. "I don't suppose you'd want to create a distraction?" he asked.
Vivian shook her head. "I'm afraid you're on your own. I've had about enough of pestilence of every kind. Good luck," and with that, she slipped out the door.
"I don't expect we're lucky enough that there isn't an anti-Disapparition ward here, do you?" Ginny asked, sighing.
"Not likely, and I'm certain they've been alerted to watch for us. I have another idea, though," he said, concentrating.
"What are you planning?" Ginny asked, unconcerned.
A flash of fire over their heads startled her, but they looked up to see Fawkes hovering above them.
"Just grab onto a tail feather. I've always wanted to see what this was like," he said happily.
They each grasped a tail feather, and a pleasant warmth spread over them. They were gone in a flash of fire, and the reporters were left standing outside, still awaiting their departure. Harry and Ginny were back at their London honeymoon suite, unscathed and un-interviewed, in no time at all.
Author's Note: I had a birthday over the weekend, and I wished for a Tampa Bay win. Hooray, Bucs! Here's hoping they can follow through in the SuperBowl. For me, Tom Brady will always be a Patriot 😊
As always, huge thanks to my beta team – Sherylyn, Arnel and Sue for their endless patience and cheerleading as they whipped this story into shape.
