A/N: Once again, holidays and a snowstorm got me confused. Here's the chapter, sorry about the late posting. In fairness, this is a megachapter, so you shouldn't be too disappointed.
At dinner on Christmas Eve, Harry ate with Draco and Blaise. The girls and boys of Slytherin had segregated themselves into little clusters of same-sex friends, mostly because the girls couldn't stop talking about Yule Ball, and the boys wanted to talk about anything but. Harry and Draco stayed late, lingering over pudding and discussing quidditch scores from Draco's latest edition of The Daily Prophet. When Harry finally finished eating, he excused himself and left the Great Hall alone—he had an appointment to make.
Once outside the Great Hall, Harry went to the potions classroom where Pansy had taught him to dance, only to find that the room was empty. Harry waited for fifteen minutes before he pulled out the Marauder's Map and started searching for Pansy. He located her in the Slytherin common room.
When Harry returned to the common room, Pansy was speaking with Daphne, Tracey and Millicent. The girls were still atwitter with talk of the Yule Ball, and Harry had no qualms about interrupting them.
"Pansy? Weren't we supposed to meet to practice the Solstice Waltz?"
"I'm sorry, Harry." Pansy put on a concerned expression. "It's been so long since we danced that I had forgotten."
Pansy hadn't forgotten. Pansy's ability to recall the dates and times of social engagements rivaled Hermione's ability to recall spells and potion ingredients. Harry glanced at Tracey and Daphne to see if they had noticed Pansy's blatant lie, but neither girl would meet his eyes.
"Okay, then. I guess I'll just do my best."
"It's not as if you'll forget every step and embarrass yourself in front of the whole school," Pansy said. Although, from her tone, it appeared that she wished for Harry to do exactly that.
"I'm going to go find Draco," Harry said, suddenly uncomfortable. Clearly, he wasn't welcome among the girls. "Merry Christmas, everybody." The girls mumbled their own Christmas greetings, and Harry made a hasty retreat.
Draco was playing Exploding Snap with Crabbe and Goyle, and Harry had them deal him in for the next game. While he waited, he tried to keep his mind off Pansy standing him up, and the cool reception that he had been receiving from Tracey and Daphne. It was hard to say which bothered him more—the fact that Tracey wasn't being her normal, supportive self, or the fact that Pansy seemed to be offended about some affront that Harry couldn't identify for the life of him. The last time Harry had offended Pansy, he had gotten slapped after the Welcoming Feast, but surely they were past that. Pansy had been excited to teach Harry to dance, that was clear. And as for Tracey, Harry wasn't sure he could ever remember a time that Tracey had been upset with him, other than their fight in the bathroom. Or even a time that Tracey had disagreed with him.
There wasn't anything that Harry could do about any of it, either. Tracey was going to the ball with Theo, and he had already ended his dance lessons with Pansy. And Harry knew exactly what would happen if he apologized to either girl: "How dare you! I have better things to do than wait around for you to apologize, Harry Potter! I've never met a man so arrogant!" He had heard some version of that line spoken by various sixth and seventh year girls for the last four years, and he wasn't going to put himself in a position to be on the receiving end of it.
It was all very confusing. Harry ultimately decided that the best course of action was to ignore the problem, and hope that it had disappeared in the morning. Harry did his best to shift his focus to Exploding Snap, which marginally improved his mood. Every time there was a pause in the game, however, Harry found his attention wandering to thoughts of Tracey and Pansy. Those same thoughts kept Harry awake long after the rest of his dormitory had managed to fall asleep.
When Harry awoke, his problems hadn't disappeared, but they did seem less important in the light of Christmas Morning. A pile of presents had been delivered to the foot of his bed during the night by the Hogwarts house elves. Crabbe and Goyle were awake and tearing into their presents, although their shouts of surprise were muffled by the candies that they had already stuffed into their mouths.
Harry began to open his presents, taking care to proceed at a more dignified pace. Sirius had sent Harry a penknife with a bunch of attachments that allowed it to unlock (almost) any lock and undo (almost) any knot. Hermione had sent Harry a book titled Quidditch Teams of Britain and Ireland, and Tracey had given Harry a set of Ever-Clear Quidditch Goggles that would fit over his glasses. Draco's family sent Harry a set of four tickets to a Hollyshead Harpies game, which would be played in early August, between Harry's birthday and his return to Hogwarts for fifth year. Hagrid had given Harry a box packed full of Harry's favorite sweets; the box was so large that Harry had received more candies than Crabbe and Goyle combined. (Harry was not upset by this, because he knew that Crabbe and Goyle would begin to help themselves once their own stash was exhausted.) Pansy had gotten Harry a bottle of cologne, which appeared to be extremely expensive.
Harry, for his part, gave a top-of-the-line wand polishing kit to Tracey, who had been complaining that her wand was overly dry for the entire time that Harry had known her. For Hermione, Harry had ordered an Eversharp Quill—which, contrary to its name, would become dull after about a year, but would not require any sharpening in the meantime. Hagrid had received a sampling of gourmet sausages from a charcuterie in Diagon Alley.
Pansy and Draco were, as always, the most difficult friends for which Harry had to find gifts. It was almost impossible to give them a worthwhile gift, because they already had everything that money could buy. For Pansy, Harry had settled on a bracelet that he had stumbled across in muggle London—he had been dragged along by the Dursleys, who were not about to leave "that freak" home alone with their precious belongings. The bracelet was fashioned to look like a snake eating its own tail. The head and the tip of the tail were silver, and its body was covered in scales of obsidian and malachite. Harry had thought it extremely beautiful, and had purchased it immediately. The muggle jeweler was perplexed when Harry produced a galleon as payment, but he quickly recognized that the value of the gold in Harry's coin would easily pay for the bracelet.
Harry had struggled with Draco's gift for the entire year. He was ultimately inspired by the first Tri-Wizard task. Harry had managed to find Charlie Weasley before the Weasley left Hogwarts, and Harry purchased another pair of dragonhide gloves for Draco. Charlie was insistent on giving Harry a significant "friend of the family" discount, which Harry was equally insistent on declining. Ultimately, Harry accepted the discount, but owled the balance of the price of the gloves to Romania, where it would be awaiting Charlie upon his return to the dragon reservation.
As Harry was getting dressed for the day, he found one last gift at the foot of his bed. The box was extremely heavy, and the wrapping paper seemed familiar. When Harry opened the unsigned card, he easily recognized the handwriting.
A gift that you earned, and should earn your attention in return.
Inside the box was the golden egg from the first task. Dumbledore's subtle reminder that Harry had to turn his attention back to the Tri-Wizard Tournament.
Harry chucked the egg under his bed. It was Christmas, and he didn't want to think about it.
Once presents had been opened, the rest of Christmas Day moved by in a blur. Everybody in Hogwarts was distracted by the impending Yule Ball. The girls of Slytherin disappeared into their dormitories after brunch—the next several hours would be entirely devoted to preparing for the ball.
The boys of Slytherin spent the hours leading up to Yule Ball in the common room, playing various games, comparing Christmas gifts, and telling jokes. At five thirty, Theo and Blaise excused themselves to shower and get dressed, which struck Harry as quite early for a dance that wouldn't begin until eight o'clock. Then again, Blaise had fancied Pansy since third year and would want to make sure that not a single hair was out of place, so perhaps he was justified in starting early. Draco begged out of Exploding Snap at six, and Harry decided that he would do the same.
Harry's formal dress robes were a smart combination that he had ordered from Madam Malkin's. Madam Malkin herself had owled Harry an enchanted measuring tape, which had comically attempted to measure Harry while he sat at the Slytherin table during breakfast. It had taken Harry several minutes to wrangle the rogue measuring tape back into its package. Later that night, when Harry had more time to devote to the task, Harry allowed the tape to take his measurements, which Harry recorded and owled back to the shop.
The robes were black with silver trim, as was Harry's suitcoat. He wore them with a green shirt and a black bow tie. Madam Malkin had assured Harry that they were the cutting edge of style. Harry agreed—instead of feeling awkward in his dress robes, he felt filled with confidence.
"How do I look?" Harry asked Draco.
"As if you were born to wear robes," Draco said.
"Wasn't I?"
Draco laughed, then turned back to the mirror next to his bed. The blonde boy was struggling with his hair, running a comb through it over and over again. Draco would pause, step back, turn his head from side to side, then lean in and resume combing.
Harry glanced at the clock—it was almost seven fifteen. Time to get moving. Harry went to the trunk at the foot of his bed and removed the small box that contained Ginny's corsage. The box was charmed to keep the flower chilled, while the flower itself was charmed to burst into bloom when it was pinned to a dress. Harry tucked the box inside the pocket of his robes, and left his dormitory.
Many Slytherins were gathering in the common room, meeting their dates as they emerged from the dormitories. Harry was one of the first to leave, however, as he was one of the few Slytherins with a date from outside his own house.
Harry arrived outside Gryffindor tower a few minutes early. A pair of older blokes from Hufflepuff were already waiting outside the portrait of the Fat Lady, leaning against the opposite wall.
"Waiting for your dates, too?" Harry asked.
The Hufflepuffs gave Harry a nasty look and did not reply. Apparently, the animosity between Hufflepuffs and Harry Potter had not waned in the weeks since the first task.
"Tough crowd," Harry muttered. He, too, leaned against the wall to wait.
A few minutes later, the portrait opened. All three boys pushed off the wall and stood up straight. Hermione emerged, but it took Harry a few seconds to recognize her. She was… beautiful. Instead of the usual bushy explosion of hair that surrounded her head, Hermione's hair was neatly done up in some sort of complicated bun/braid. Her dress was a shiny, periwinkle blue, and she was moving with slow grace and confidence. Only her speed could be attributed to her high-heeled shoes; the grace and confidence were her own. Harry felt a sudden pang of regret. Perhaps, like Ron, he should have asked Hermione to the ball earlier, instead of taking her for granted.
Then Ginny stepped out of the portrait, and Harry's thoughts of Hermione disappeared.
Ginny looked stunning. Harry felt as if he had literally been struck by a stunning spell. Ginny's dress was some indeterminate shade of silver, and when she moved it seemed to shimmer and shift from silver to green. She had a sheer shawl pulled around her shoulders, which was held together at the front by a neat silver button.
Unlike Hermione, Ginny had opted to leave her hair down for the evening. Ginny's red hair, normally straight, was spectacularly wavy and bounced lightly as she walked. Her hair framed her face well and contrasted pleasingly with her pale skin. The freckles scattered across Ginny's cheeks and the bridge of her nose softened her look, and she avoided the haughty appearance that most Slytherin witches naturally possessed. Hermione's transformation was more dramatic, but there was something about Ginny that refused to be ignored.
As the portrait closed behind the girls, the Hufflepuff boys disappointedly leaned back against the wall. Harry was relieved that neither was Hermione's date; he didn't want to lose those ten galleons to Zabini.
"Good evening, ladies," Harry said smoothly. Or, at least, he hoped he said it smoothly. His tongue was suddenly thick in his mouth. He fell back on his natural instinct in such a situation: act like Draco.
"Good evening, yourself," Hermione said.
Ginny waved. "Hi, Harry."
"You look wonderful," Harry said to Ginny. "Oh, and you too, Hermione."
Hermione rolled her eyes but smiled. "Gee, thanks."
Harry stepped forward and removed Ginny's corsage from its package. He had selected a wrist corsage, and Ginny held out her hand, allowing Harry to slip the charmed flower over her wrist. As their hands touched, Harry instinctively squeezed Ginny's fingers in his own. He felt Ginny tense for a moment as the corsage flower burst into bloom. Harry sneezed lightly at the puff of pollen that the flower had released, raising his hands to cover his nose, and using the action to cover the fact that he was releasing Ginny's hand. Why had he done that?
"I… er…" Harry stammered uncomfortably. "Are you ready to go down to the Great Hall?" Harry asked.
"Could you wait for me?" Hermione asked. "I'll walk down with you, as soon as my date gets here."
Harry seized upon Hermione's offer, happy for any distraction or change of subject. "About that," Harry said. "Who is the mystery man?"
"See for yourself," said Ginny, looking over Harry's shoulder.
Harry turned. Walking toward them, dressed in red dress robes trimmed with sable fur, was Viktor Krum.
"Herm-own-ninny?" Viktor said tentatively.
Harry looked back and forth from Hermione to Viktor. He had been fairly certain that Viktor was Hermione's date, but seeing it was a different matter. Hermione stepped forward and took Viktor's arm, smiling shyly.
"Shall we?" said Hermione.
Ginny took Harry's arm, and they followed Viktor and Hermione to the Great Hall. When they arrived, they found the enormous oak doors of the Great Hall were shut. A small crowd of students milled about outside the hall, waiting anxiously for the ball to begin. Several of the girls turned to watch as Harry and Viktor passed by, and they goggled at Hermione's transformation.
"I like your dress," Harry said quietly to Ginny as they passed the other students. "Nobody else is wearing anything like it."
"It was my mum's," Ginny said. "She's had it under a preserving charm since she was at Hogwarts."
"Champions over here, please!" Professor McGonagall called out. Cedric and Fleur had already arrived with their dates—McGonagall was waiting only for Harry and Viktor.
McGonagall ushered the champions to the head table, urging them to take their seats. She left immediately to manage some other portion of the dance, and, without her stern urgings, the Champions and their dates simply milled about behind their seats, chatting.
Cedric Diggory was at the opposite end of the table. Diggory pulled out a chair for his date, Cho Chang, who was seeker for the Ravenclaw quidditch team. As Cedric moved to take his own seat, he caught Harry's eye and waved. Harry waved back. Cedric had been ever-so-slightly friendlier after the first task, and Harry had noticed that the rest of the Hufflepuffs had slightly reduced their glaring. Even Professor Sprout had begun to treat Harry more warmly.
Diggory waved his hand again, beckoning Harry to come closer. Harry excused himself from Ginny, and walked down the table.
"Cedric, good to see you," Harry said as he approached. He held out his hand, and Cedric shook it firmly. "And Miss Chang, you look beautiful tonight."
Cho smiled, amused by Harry's formality. They knew each other reasonably well from quidditch matches. "Thank you, Mr. Potter."
Cedric leaned toward Harry. "How are you coming on your egg?" he asked. "Figured it out yet?"
"I haven't spent much time on it," Harry said. "There's no rush, though."
"If you get stuck, consider taking a bath," Cedric said. "I've always found them relaxing. Steam can fog the air but clear the mind."
Harry raised his eyebrows. Cedric was reciprocating for the tip about the dragons, apparently. "I'll remember that."
"Feel free to use the prefect's bathroom. Fifth floor. Fourth door to the left of the statue of Boris the Bewildered," Cedric said. "The password is 'pine fresh.'"
"Thanks," Harry said. He shook Cedric's hand again. Before Harry could say his final niceties, he heard Ginny's voice call out.
"What was that, Parkinson? I couldn't hear you, since I'm all the way up here at the Champion's table."
Harry turned. Ginny was standing and leaning over the table. Pansy and Blaise were a few yards away, on the main dance floor. Blaise was gently pulling Pansy's arm, trying to direct her to their seats, but Pansy had turned on Ginny and was refusing to be led away.
"I said that I wouldn't be caught dead a dress like yours," Pansy said loudly. "I'd rather hide in my common room than wear some moth-eaten hand-me-down." For the first time, Harry realized that Ginny's unique dress might mean that she was simply out of style, rather than charmingly retro.
"You'd show up naked if it meant that you got to be Harry's date," Ginny shot back. "Nobody wants to see that, you cow, so it's a good thing he asked me instead."
"I have to go," Harry said to Cedric. Without waiting for a reply, Harry started to walk toward Ginny.
"He only asked you to take the piss out of your brother," Pansy was saying. "You're a joke."
"Keep telling yourself that while I'm dancing with Harry," Ginny said. "If you say it enough, you might actually start to believe it."
Blaise tugged Pansy's arm more forcefully. "You're making a scene," he said quietly, through gritted teeth. Pansy ignored him. She pulled her arm free and stepped closer to the Champion's table, just as Harry arrived at Ginny's side.
"Listen here you worthless blood traitor, I'll-"
"PANSY!" Harry slapped his hand flat on the table. Pansy jerked backward—she had been so consumed in her argument that she hadn't noticed Harry's approach. "You can't insult my date right in front of me. No proper wizard would allow it."
Pansy crossed her arms and huffed. "Harry, you can't expect-"
"I expect us all to act like reasonable human beings. ALL of us," Harry said, with a glance over at Ginny. "It's a ball. Shouldn't we be having fun?"
"I warned you about embarrassing me," Pansy said to Harry.
"You're embarrassing yourself!" Ginny interjected.
"Your family is embarrassing all of wizarddom!" Pansy replied.
"I think we have very different ideas about what embarrasses a wizard's name," Ginny said.
"Great!" Harry said sarcastically. "Let's agree to disagree!"
Both Pansy and Ginny glared at Harry.
Blaise tugged Pansy's arm again. "Pansy, let's take our seats. Leave Harry with his brassy Gryffindor; at least the two of us can enjoy our night."
Pansy opened her mouth and pointed at Ginny, clearly ready to continue her argument, but there was a rustle of movement from the entranceway. Daphne and Draco had just entered the ballroom, gliding forward with regal grace.
Pansy gritted her teeth. She might have lost control a few moments earlier, but Harry knew that she would never show weakness by making a scene in front of Daphne.
"Enjoy your night," Pansy snapped. She grabbed Blaise's arm, nearly throwing him off balance. As she and Blaise turned away from the head table, Pansy composed her face and raised her nose into the air. By the time their turn was complete, there was no sign that Pansy had been in an argument at all.
Harry and Ginny took their seats. Ginny's face was calm, but Harry could tell that she was agitated. She was clenching her teeth tightly, and Harry could see the muscles of her jaw working as she struggled with her emotions. Ginny's foot had begun to tap with restless energy.
Harry reached over and touched Ginny's arm lightly. "Don't worry about Pansy. If I had dress robes that were my father's, I would have worn them to the dance."
Ginny smiled wanly. "Thanks, Harry."
Before Harry could say more, the unmistakably self-important voice of Percy Weasley arose from behind him. "Merry Christmas, Mr. Potter. How are you, on this fine night?"
"I'm doing quite well, Percy," Harry said. Only Ginny could see Harry roll his eyes.
"And merry Christmas to you, as well, Ginny."
"Merry Christmas, Percy. What are you doing at the dance?"
"Oh, well. Mr. Crouch has fallen ill. Terrible business. He has been owling me instructions for conducting the tournament, and has asked me to attend dinner in his stead." Percy didn't seem at all sad about his boss's illness. Instead, Percy sounded rather happy. "I'll be sitting next to you and Harry, actually!"
"Wonderful…" mumbled Ginny.
"I'm so proud of you, Ginny," Percy said. He had entirely missed his sister's tone. "It's wonderful to see that you have realized the importance of making good impressions and meeting the right people. Unlike those miscreant twin brothers of ours, you have exercised some enlightened self-interest."
Harry and Ginny fell silent as Percy began to drone on about the importance of the Tri-Wizard tournament to the future of wizarding Britain and the international wizard community. Somewhere in the midst of Percy's sweeping assertions that the wizarding world would never be the same after the tournament, Fleur Delacour and her date, a Ravenclaw named Roger Davies, arrived.
"Hello, Percy" Davies said. "How is Penelope doing?"
"Oh, er… well… she's…" Percy began to turn red.
"She's dropped you, then?" Davies asked. "Sorry to hear it."
"Thank you," Percy said awkwardly. "Please excuse me. I think I need some punch." Percy stood and rapidly walked toward the giant ice sculpture from which a fountain of punch was flowing.
"Who vas zees Peen-o-lope?" Fleur asked Davies.
"Penelope Clearwater," Davies said. "Head girl last year. She and Percy had been dating for almost two years. I wonder what happened."
"Was she pretty?" Fleur tossed her hair over her shoulder as she spoke.
"…" Davies mouth was hanging open. He was looking directly at Fleur, but didn't seem to have heard her question. In fact, he seemed to have forgotten that he needed to blink or breathe.
Fleur smiled. "Ah, well. She ees not zat important. Let us sit."
"Ron thinks she's part veela," Ginny said quietly, watching as Fleur walked away. "Whenever Fleur is around, Ron acts even worse than Davies. I don't see anything special about her, though; I think Ron's just a prat."
"Ron's right," Harry said. "At the start of the tournament, Fleur told Ollivander that her wand contained veela hair from her own grandmother."
Ginny whistled. "Wow…"
At the other end of the table, Dumbledore was holding his menu aloft and shouting at his empty plate. "PORK CHOPS!" Courtesy of the Hogwarts house elves, pork chops appeared on Dumbledore's plate.
Harry lifted his own menu. "ORANGE CHICKEN!" he shouted. A chicken breast with orange glaze appeared on his plate. A twisted slice of orange peel garnished the breast, and a side of rice and vegetables filled the rest of the plate.
Ginny lifted her menu and considered for a moment. "STEAK AND POTATOS!"
As Harry and Ginny reached for their silverware, there was a small popping noise. Between their plates, a mug of hot chocolate and a peppermint had appeared.
Harry grinned. "Winky's still thinking of us," he said.
"Don't let Hermione know," Ginny replied.
Dinner was delicious. Harry discovered that he was ravenous—brunch had been a long time ago. Percy began to expound upon his importance at the ministry, and his enormous respect for Mr. Crouch, and the terrible, terrible illness that had befallen his superior. Harry couldn't contribute word to the conversation, which was a blessing in disguise, as Percy's choice of subject matter was impossibly boring. Harry was relieved when, just as dessert appeared on their plates, Percy turned to Madam Maxime and began to enquire after France's cauldron-thickness regulations.
With the drone of Percy's voice gone, Harry suddenly realized that Ginny had been silent for most of dinner. Harry was worried—had he been neglecting his date? He glanced at Ginny surreptitiously, and saw that she was staring at the table full of Slytherin fourth years. Pansy was talking loudly, and Blaise was laughing at everything she said. Daphne was leaning toward Draco, speaking quietly, but Draco seemed to be leaning away from her. Odd.
Harry looked back at Ginny. The Gryffindor girl had a sad expression on her face.
"Is everything alright with your dinner?" Harry asked.
"It's fine," Ginny said.
"Then why the sad face?" Harry asked.
"I'm not sad," Ginny said sadly.
"You're also not convincing. Have I done something wrong?"
"No," Ginny said with a sigh.
"You're not still thinking about Pansy, are you?"
"No. Yes. I don't know." Ginny frowned. "I know that you asked me to the dance because you wanted to make Ron angry."
"That's not true."
Ginny looked Harry directly at Harry. There was a fierce gleam in her eyes. "I won't be lied to. I know what you did." The fire fell from Ginny's voice and she lowered her eyes. "We hardly know each other. Asking me was obviously a mistake. I'm sure there's some Slytherin girl that you wanted to take to the dance. You can go find her and enjoy your night and I won't stop you. That's fine. I'm fine."
"If I didn't want to take you to the Yule Ball, I wouldn't have," Harry said. "You're right. I asked you to the Yule Ball to make Ron angry. But I brought you to the Yule Ball because I wanted to. Don't you think Draco and everybody else in Slytherin pressured me to change my date? Because they did. I had plenty of time to change my decision, and I didn't."
Ginny turned back to her plate. She clearly didn't want to believe what Harry was saying.
Harry was desperate to improve her mood. He hadn't realized how effective Pansy's insults had been. Maybe Ginny had deserved more than his flippant invitation to the ball. After a few moments of thought, Harry began to speak.
"Do you remember last year, when all the dementors came to Hogwarts?"
Ginny said nothing.
"That was a stupid question," Harry said. "Of course you do. How could you miss it?" Harry took a sip of water. "Well, it turns out that dementors have a worse effect on me than they do most other people. Most people get sad, but I faint. Every time. That's what happened during the first quidditch match against Gryffindor, last year."
Harry paused, giving Ginny an opportunity to respond. When she said nothing, he continued.
"Dementors make you re-live your worst memories, over and over. That's why nobody had ever escaped from Azkaban before Sirius Black managed it—the dark wizards are overcome by despair, and they don't even try to escape. And the reason that I fainted whenever a dementor came near was because I was forced to re-live my worst memory… the night my parents were murdered. I could hear their voices," Harry said. "I could hear my dad, fighting. I could hear my mother begging for my life. And I could hear Voldemort laughing as he killed them." Harry paused and took a longer drink of water. This was harder than he had thought it would be.
"Why are you telling me this?" Ginny asked.
"I have a point, really," Harry said. "After the quidditch match, Professor Lupin taught me how to cast a Patronus Charm. It's the spell that drives away dementors. To cast it, you think of your happiest thought, and your happiness fuels the spell. Dementors feed on despair and sadness, so they can't stand it."
"That doesn't make sense," Ginny said. "If dementors make you sad, how can you ever be happy enough to cast a patronus?"
"That's the trick. You have to be really happy," Harry said. "A pleasant memory won't do it. It has to be one of the best moments of your life. And even then, it's still hard. It took me weeks to get it right, because I just couldn't find a memory that was happy enough."
Harry turned to Ginny. "My happy memory, the memory that fuels my patronus shield, is a memory of you. After Voldemort's diary was destroyed in the Chamber of Secrets, I tried carrying you out. I couldn't—I was too weak. I collapsed, and I was certain that you were gone. Then Dumbledore's phoenix landed on your shoulder and began to cry. The phoenix tears healed you. And when your eyes opened up, and you took that giant breath… you reached out, and you grabbed me and hugged me… that's it. That was the happiest that I have ever been. That's my patronus memory."
Ginny finally looked at Harry. She looked him directly in the eyes, as if she was searching for something. "You're not joking," she said, finally.
"Not at all," Harry said.
Ginny glanced away again, hiding her face with her hair. "I could hear his voice in my head. You-Know-Who's. When the dementors came near." Harry could see that Ginny's hands were beginning to shake. When Ginny noticed, as well, she marshaled her willpower and forced them to be still. "It would start as a whisper, so soft I couldn't understand what it was saying. The closer the dementors came, the clearer his voice got, until it was like he was back inside my head. Like he had never left."
Harry was taken aback. He had never even considered the effect that the dementors would have on Ginny. It sounded awful… maybe even worse than Harry's own memories.
"I try not to think about the Chamber too often," Ginny said. "Dumbledore said that I shouldn't dwell on it. That it wouldn't be healthy. But it was so hard last year. Every time a dementor came near, that horrible whispering would start again… I could hardly stand it. Nobody ever told me that there was a charm I could cast."
"It's hard," Harry said. "It's NEWT-level or above, and even then not everybody learns it."
"You learned it when you were a third year," Ginny said.
"Well… I had to, right?" Harry was struck by an idea. He flashed a bright smile at Ginny. "I could teach you, maybe."
"You would do that?"
Harry shrugged. "If you don't want to, that's okay. I just thought you might like to know."
"No," Ginny said quickly. "I want to learn. I don't want to hear his voice in my head ever again."
"Brilliant," said Harry. "We'll find some time after the holiday is over, and we'll see what we can do."
"I'd like that," Ginny said. Her mood appeared to have improved.
"Great!" Harry turned back to his dessert. His appetite had returned.
"Can I ask you something?" Ginny said.
"Sure," Harry said, mouth half-full of cake.
"Because of me, you can cast the patronus charm."
"Yep."
"And you were grounded by Flint until you could cast the charm."
"Mmm hmm."
"So because you could cast the charm, you got to fly in the quidditch re-match against Gryffindor at the end of last year."
"Right…"
"And you won that match singlehandedly, defeating Gryffindor and winning the quidditch cup for Slytherin."
"Er… that's one way to put it. Yes."
Ginny grabbed Harry's arm. "Swear to me that you'll never tell my brothers. If they find out that I was the reason that Slytherin won the quidditch cup, they'll kill me!"
Harry started to laugh. "I don't think they'll be that angry. Although, knowing the twins, it might be worse if they don't kill you."
"Harry! This is not funny!"
"I swear I won't tell," Harry said, raising a hand in the air. "Although, this would all be a moot point if Gryffindor could field a quidditch team that was worth half a knut."
"Hey!" Ginny folded her arms. "That's easy to say when Draco's dad bought your team the best brooms in the school."
"Correction: it's easy to say when your house has won the quidditch cup for the last…" Harry looked upward and tapped his finger against his lips. "Well, I've lost count of how many years in a row."
"That's going to change real soon, Potter," Ginny said. Ginny wasn't angry, just intense. Really intense. Like, Draco-trying-to-beat-Harry-at-quidditch-tryouts intense, or Tracey-in-the-middle-of-an-argument intense.
"Does Gryffindor have some secret weapon I don't know about?" Harry asked. "Wood's been your best player for years, and he's long gone."
"I happen to know that the Gryffindor chasers will be much stronger next year."
"Really? And does this talent improvement have anything to do with a certain pint-sized redhead's aspirations for joining the quidditch team?" Harry knew he was right when Ginny's jaw dropped open, but he immediately regretted his comment when Ginny punched him in the arm.
"Who are you calling pint-sized?!"
Harry rubbed his arm. Ginny's punch packed a wallop. "If you fly as well as you punch, you might actually stand a chance next year," Harry said.
"Better," Ginny said with a grin. "Count on it."
"Then Hufflepuff better watch out, because there'll be a new team in second place!"
"And that team will be wearing green and silver."
Harry burst out laughing. He liked Ginny. A lot. Once she forgot her shyness, she was witty, good in conversation, and she really knew her quidditch. Harry and Ginny began to happily chat about the English Quidditch League, discussing which teams had a chance this year, and which teams were doomed to dwell in the league basement. Unlike her brother Ron, who favored the Chudley Cannons, Ginny was a fan of the Hollyshead Harpies, who had actually won a game in the last decade. It was only when the rest of the students began to cheer that Harry realized dinner had ended and the Weird Sisters were taking the stage.
"Uh oh," Harry said.
"What?" Ginny asked. She had been too engrossed in their conversation about quidditch to realize what was going on.
"I think…" Harry swallowed, hard. He was suddenly nervous. "I think it's time for us to dance."