Harry made it back, panting. Daphne and Sophia had much further to travel. He knocked on McGonagall's door and waited. It took what felt like a year for her to answer and she opened the door with what had to be deliberate slowness.
"Come on in then, Mr. Potter," she said, but stopped him at the inner door, putting her arm between him and it. "One moment now."
"Professor?"
She sighed, clearly gathering herself for something. "She's very – extremely – excited about this and a part of her is concerned you're just leading her on." She paused and held up a long, slender hand at his cry of outrage. "Now I don't believe you're the sort of young man who would do such a thing – you're very much like both of your parents in how even-handed you are. You and she have taken a big chance with each other, as have I in some ways. Everyone here has seen you now: they understand that you are, at the least, very close but few seem to grasp how close you have become. It may… upset others who have intentions – pure and otherwise – on not only Miss. Parkinson, but also yourself."
Harry watched her, silent. She was very still.
"And so I have a request – nay, an order – for you. Something to keep in your mind like a mantra tonight and for as long as you need it – something that might be challenging for a young man in love like yourself. That order is: Endure."
She paused, letting the word hang in the air. Harry's eagerness to get back to Pansy had eased with her words.
"Endure?" He asked, already suspecting her meaning.
"Yes, endure," she said, softer this time, "as I say, there will be people out there – Gryffindors, Slytherins or others that might see that provoking you or Miss. Parkinson into anger or sadness or similar. You must endure their taunts and barbs, for not only yourself, but for the sake of Miss. Parkinson, and possibly much more widely than Hogwarts. In time, their words will be as nothing to you, if you two have what it seems to me that you do. Simply let their words slide past you."
He was silent for a while, just thinking. He stepped away from the door and leaned against her desk. When he looked up, he understood.
"I will endure, Professor." He said, "Thank you."
"You're welcome, Potter." She said solemnly. "Ready?"
He made to move but stopped. "Professor?"
"Yes?"
"What do you mean, 'much more widely than Hogwarts'?"
She took a long time to reply, eyeing Harry in that close, scrutinising way she had. She pursed her lips and shook her head. "It's… a big subject. Go and see your partner for now, we can talk another time. But remember…"
"Endure."
She nodded. "You are better than their insults."
He nodded back and she opened the door.
Pansy wore a simple gown, the exact same shade as his dress robes that was far from what Patel had helped him design, but even incomplete, it was beautiful. She had the same thin black blindfold over her eyes as before. Her wand sat on a table beside her.
Shearer and Patel were working, measuring and making marks on the dress.
McGonagall cleared her throat and all three looked around.
"Good," said Shearer through lips holding many pins, "Mr. Potter, go with Mr. Patel."
Patel rose from kneeling by Pansy's side and dusted himself down, heading over to Harry. He looked harassed.
"Everything okay?" Harry asked in little more than a whisper.
He nodded back and smiled. "Just a lot to do."
Harry handed him his dress robes and Patel inspected them quickly. "High Hastings, this years Regency line. Good taste." He said, nodding to Harry. "Go put them on, I'll see if we need to do anything."
Harry looked at McGonagall who pointed at a door in the opposite corner of the room.
"How do I look?" Pansy asked, nervous.
"Amazing, unbelievable." Harry said, touching her hand on his way to the bathroom.
Closing the door behind him, he pulled off then folded his robes, leaving them on a small shelf only occupied with hand towels.
He pulled on his dress robes which already fit well. It took a minute to adjust them, but they just didn't look right, or at all as they had in the catalogue Mrs. Weasley had bade him read through.
He returned to the room as a bar of cool afternoon light slanted in through the window, lighting Pansy from behind. He raised a hand to shield his eyes against the radiance that shimmered through barely visible layers of skirts and the tiara gracefully perched on her head. There was some essential quality, like a heat haze around her. It caused him to stop, drawing a sharp breath.
She was magnificent.
Patel came over to him, adjusting his robes here and there. "It's a good fit – but High Hastings always is, they have minor enchantments to adapt when first put on." He said before going back to his bags.
"Harry, is everything okay?" Pansy asked, her voice taut.
"It's amazing, you're perfect." He said, going back to her and taking her hands in his.
"Don't move, Miss. Parkinson!" Shearer barked from behind her.
"Sorry." Pansy said, wincing.
Harry stepped away, releasing her hands feeling like pulling magnets apart.
Patel stood, levitating the decoration for Harry's robes with his wand. He laid the thin pieces of gold cloth trim into place with intense care and concentration.
"That will do, I think." He said, inspecting his work. "I'll adjust the legs, they're just a little short and then it'll be perfect."
Harry looked around as Patel fussed and made alterations to the legs of his robes, trying not to stare at Pansy.
"There you go, I'd say that's perfect." Patel said, standing. He put his hands on Harry's shoulders and directed him to look in the full-length mirror.
He looked like himself in a nice set of robes. Harry raised his arms and dropped them to his sides.
"You look splendid." Patel said, adjusting here and there. "You see how this line and this line meet? It's part of the cut to emphasise your shoulders – makes you look taller and more powerful."
That just made Harry wonder if everyone saw him as being short and puny – he flashed back for a moment to the big Ravenclaw that had tried to kiss him; how easily she had seemed able to pull him toward her.
"No no, nothing like that. It's just… the thing I hate most about robes – I never wear them." Patel said, running his wand over where he had made his adjustments, causing the faintest smell of burning. "They have the effect of burying whoever is wearing them, hiding the figure and outline for better – so many of us tend to get fat in later years – or for worse, hiding a strapping young man from showing off how he has grown, and the natural… presence he possesses."
Harry frowned and looked again, standing straighter. He did look pretty good. He turned one way, then the other, noting how the way the trousers met the torso did look sharp. He liked it much more than the normal baggy, almost shapeless school robes he wore so often.
"Thanks Roopesh." He said, smiling and smoothing down his now gleaming golden lapels.
Patel clapped him lightly on the back. "You're welcome, Harry. You look dashing – every inch a Triwizard Champion."
They turned back to Pansy as Shearer stood, with a small, barely suppressed wince. "I think we're done here, too. If you'd give us some space, Mr. Potter, we can get Miss. Parkinson out of this so we can commence final assembly."
At that, McGonagall led Daphne and Sophia into the room, they were panting and excited. Daphne had her gown still in its bag, clutched in her arms; Sophia had put hers on – a huge thing of many petticoats and silvery satin.
"Woah," Daphne said, seeing them both – Sophia was breathing too hard due to the bodice of her gown to speak – "Harry, you look…"
Sophia managed a breathless wolf whistle.
Harry was steered back to the bathroom where he put his robes back on. When he came back, Matikina was spraying something into Daphne's hair and Pansy was back into her skirt and blouse.
"I can't wait to see you." She said.
He went to her, hugging her hard.
