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Worth the Risk

A/N: I own nothing of the Harry Potter world, except maybe a few nebbles.  Thank you to my amazing betas, Melissa and Dale, for their wonderful help and support.  Also thanks to Happydog for being a great ps.net beta and for going through my long short story so quickly.

She gave up on me.

Those words pounded through Harry’s weary mind on an early December morning.  His sheets were soft and warm, encompassing his whole body, one leg sticking out idly from under the rumpled sheets.  It had been another long night in the seventh year dormitories for him.

There had been many long nights in the past seven months.  The dreams never stopped.  Harry had always thought that once he had fulfilled his destiny of saving the Wizarding world from the destructive hands of Voldemort, it would all fade away.  But he had been very wrong.

The first few months, he relived his lucky moments before Voldemort’s death in excruciating detail.  It really had been luck—well, not all luck.  He had been seriously training since after his fifth year at Hogwarts.  That summer, Harry had just snapped.  He couldn’t deal with the pressure of not knowing about or preparing for the war.  He had been in the dark for far too long; so he took a stand.

The time spent that summer at the Dursleys’ was horrible, even worse than it normally was.  He wasted away in his room each day, lying on his small, rickety bed while watching the hands on his clock move around and around.  The ticking never stopped, and time just went by without Harry aware of the world outside his room.  Time held no meaning for him for weeks on end, but one July evening he came back to awareness.  He saw that clock; the ticking sounds reverberated in his ears and he noticed that time would go on, no matter what he did.  He grew angry—livid; how could he just lay there when so many people depended on him?  Yet, it wasn’t the people he knew nothing of that he wanted to fight for.  He had to do it for Sirius, for Sirius’ memory and the fact that he would never see Sirius’ cocky smile ever again.  His hair would never be tussled by rough hands with an accompanying exclamation of how much he was like his father. 

That night at the Department of Mysteries he had thought that the whole world had died with Sirius and his father’s memory as well.  But time was still moving—he was still alive.  And he understood this, for the first time thinking not only of Sirius, but of Ron and Hermione, of Fred and George—all of the Weasleys actually, of Lupin who was his only remaining connection to his parents, and of all of his friends at school with whom he had shared good times.

Harry had swung his weak legs over the side of the bed to see his own gaunt face looking back and was thankful for the fact that this particular mirror couldn’t reinforce what he could already see.  He pulled out a piece of parchment and instead of writing the usual note to the Order, he wrote a long letter (his longest ever) explaining to Dumbledore that he regretted his own disrespectful actions last term and that he knew that Dumbledore had the right connections for him. 

Whether Dumbledore was feeling guilty about his mistakes or just taking advantage of the moment and trying to get on Harry’s good side again, he didn’t care.  He didn’t think he could ever forget what Dumbledore had done; despite that, Dumbledore was his only chance.

The rest of that summer was a blur of constant training at No. 12 Grimmauld Place.  Harry had sure as hell wanted nothing to do with that place, but as the summer waned, he grew accustomed to the surroundings.  It was a weird truth, but by being in that house, he felt comforted.  One wonderful thing about Grimmauld Place was seeing his friends again, reinforcing his determination for this mission. 

Harry received Defence training from Mad-Eye Moody and Tonks, Animagus training from Professor McGonagall, Occlumency training from Dumbledore himself, and physical training from Madam Hooch—and of course Mrs. Weasley cooked up wondrous meals three and sometimes even four times a day.  In her words, “Harry, you were starved for practically a month.  You need your strength for all that you’re being put through…come on, here’s two more beef sandwiches, eat up.”

Harry wasn’t alone in his training, however, Ron, Hermione and Ginny joined him, and having the support really helped things along.  Ron and Hermione would always start by skirting around each other, and in a matter of minutes go to ripping each other’s heads off, yelling back and forth about some irrelevant issue.  Ginny was always nice to be with most of the time while Ron and Hermione were busy in their own world.  After the cloud of fifth year had passed, Harry really gave thought to some of the things that Ginny had said.  If anyone knew what he was going through, she was the one.  She helped out tremendously that summer, and the trio was easily expanded into a quartet.

One year later at the end of Harry’s sixth year, after backbreaking lessons and further training, it all paid off.  Of course, they were nowhere close to Voldemort’s level of magic, but together as a strange sort of family they succeeded.  Harry could still remember standing over Voldemort’s cold, dead body as the remaining Death Eaters were taken into custody.  He saw Tonks roughly push Draco Malfoy, her distant cousin, who had rage in his eyes, ready to continue killing if it weren’t for the magically binding spells that the Aurors had cast.  He was led to be transported to Azkaban by Portkey, which would place him into a specific jail cell that would immediately cause a long term stupefy charm on him.  The Ministry had taken great steps in furthering the Wizard prison system, especially since it was now a great need with the dementors gone who had long departed from their guard, taking up their terror under Voldemort’s rule.  Azkaban went through many changes including magically secure rooms, an invisible force field surrounding the island and a potion administered to each criminal occupant that stripped his or her powers until their release date.  It took the Ministry an amazingly short time to do this given the circumstances and the extent to the revisions.  But then again, Cornelius Fudge was no longer the Mister of Magic—Amelia Bones had taken his place after the “Battle of the Mysteries.”

Harry stared at Malfoy.  He thought he would be contented to see that ungrateful swine finally deserve his justice, but Harry looked on, dismayed at the path that Draco had led himself to.  While he knew that the dementors were a horrible punishment, he knew that being stripped of all powers was almost as awful.

He looked past the Aurors, hearing nothing except the buzzing of silence in his ears and a vague realisation that all the witches and wizards were triumphantly yelling in victory.  It was very odd standing in the field, knowing that his destiny had been fulfilled.

Harry vaguely questioned, what am I to do next?  In fact, he still wondered this each morning, waking to a room filled with snoring and the occasional sleepy mumble.

It had been three months after the war that Harry’s dreams began to shift.  Before his dreams featured his parents and friends in danger and dying because of Voldemort and their connection to him, but most of the time now, it was the dream of a petite woman with flowing red hair and bright, warm, brown eyes.  Harry thought he’d finally broken the curse of nightmares until the second night, when she questioned Harry as to why he had killed her.  That night, he saved the whole world except for her, and then she shimmered, dissolving into a dull mauve dust and was carried away by the wind.

Harry knew he had missed his chance, and like the dust in the wind, he could never catch her again.  He thought that if only things weren’t so confusing back then, or if she had held onto hope for just a bit longer…

“Morning mate, wake up!”

“Ron, I’m up.   See, eyes open, glasses on, mouth moving responding to your loud voice.”

“All right, all right.  Come on, Harry, we’re gonna miss breakfast if we don’t hurry.”

“Merlin forbid.”

-=-=-

“I’m such a slut.” The brown-haired girl next to Ginny whispered. 

Ginny looked up quickly, abandoning her scrawl of a rough poem that she was working on.  “What?  Of course you are not, why do you even say that?”

“I’ve just been having these…urges lately.”

“Like you wanna jump a guy and get into his pants?”

Sarah looked at Ginny with an unspeakable amused laughter on the tip of her tongue.

“It’s only natural,” Ginny continued.  Sarah looked thoughtful for a few moments, and then looked back up to Flitwick who was giving the latest lesson.

Ginny had a thoughtful look on her face too, but she was staring directly in front of her at the boy with messy black hair and strong calf muscles instead.  She couldn’t see the muscles with all the school robes obstructing them, but she was sure that they were there.  This boy spent hours on the Quidditch pitch, day and night being the new Hufflepuff Captain, working on his chaser and tactic skills.

Damon Wells.

His blue eyes were celestial.  He was caring and sort of quiet, and while she didn’t know that much about the mysterious boy, she knew that he was everything she could have wanted in a companion.  But Ginny was in a bind.  She definitely knew that she had gotten over Harry Potter a long time ago, but she felt like it had merely morphed into something much more—something like love. 

Ginny had stood by Harry through thick and thin, and was by his side while he brought down the most feared wizard in the world.  Harry had really opened up to her.  They spent so many nights during the summers at No. 12 Grimmauld Place talking about life after the war and their hopes and fears.  She felt so honoured that, for the first time, Harry had seen her as an equal and not just Ron’s little tag-along sister.

She had even hoped that the change in dynamics meant that Harry could see her on a new, different level. 

Ginny cursed hope.  It would reel her in after a moment’s notice and spit her back out with rumpled robes, and each time she would put her walls up higher than before to escape the next time hope struck.

Ginny could understand Harry being preoccupied with the war and saving the world, so she always tried to banish those thoughts at the time.  However, it was now seven months after the war had ended, and still not even a single sign.  So she threw that hope in the rubbish bin in the dark, cobweb-filled recesses of her mind.

The spiders liked to drag it out into the light, and Ginny could finally see why Ron detested those creatures to a great extent.

Damon was waving his arm in a sharp motion, teal sparks shooting out of his wand.  Following the teal sparks, she saw Damon’s knapsack shrink to one eighths of its size.

She remembered it was Wednesday and that today the topic was Reduction Charms.  Seeing teal sparks shoot from students’ wands around the room, she numbly picked up her wand and muttered under her breath, pointing at her knapsack.  It shrank just as Damon’s had, but whereas everyone else put to use the Engorgement Charm that they learnt fourth year, she didn’t.  The knapsack shrank smaller and smaller, until she completely missed it and hit the chair in front of her.  The chair shrank down and easily broke under Damon’s weight.

“Miss Weasley!” Professor Flitwick said in a shrill voice, as he was trying unsuccessfully to manoeuvre his way off his stack of books.  Flitwick, tired of Ginny making continual mistakes when he knew she was quite talented, pointed his wand down at the first book beneath him, saying, “Wingardium Leviosa!”  Flitwick soared magnificently through the air to the middle of the classroom and stopped, hovering in front of Ginny. "Miss Weasley, set everything straight," he said, pausing to frown. "I expect you to pay more attention in the future."

Ginny nodded, looking downcast, while fixing Damon’s chair. 

“Sorry,” she whispered to Damon. 

Damon turned to face Ginny and smiled, reassuring her that it was fine.  Ginny plumped back onto her chair, trying to figure out where her miniscule knapsack could be, and idly wondered why Damon’s smile had made her edgy.

Ginny scolded herself for making another mistake this week.  On Monday she had accidentally set Colin’s robes on fire, and on Tuesday she had been distracted by a voice coming from the corridor that sounded like Harry’s; on that occasion, she knocked over her ink.  And now this. 

Ginny thought back a few months and noticed that all of her work had been going downhill.  She couldn’t concentrate in most of her classes, and when she tried to get any homework done, she’d get uneasy and fidgety, unable to even focus on the work at hand.  She knew she was a better student than to complete assignments halfway.

“I’m better than this,” she whispered to herself.

“What?”

“Huh…oh, nothing.”  Ginny accio’ed her knapsack and set it back to its normal size.

-=-=-

“Oh, Minny, I have no idea what to do.”

Minerva McGonagall and Filius Flitwick were walking into the faculty room, which was located on the fourth floor, through the south corridor, and down a small flight of stairs to a large tapestry portraying each house mascot.  Tapping their wands simultaneously to their respective house’s mascot, the wall opened to a vast room filled with comfy neutral-coloured sofas, love seats and single desks with their own lights and supplies.  The sofas and love seats were in the centre of the room, surrounding the huge fireplace.  The floor was a wood floor, uncommon within the stone castle, with a large brown rug spreading through most of the room.

The room would have looked a little plain to the common eye, and there was a reason for this.  When the room was first set up for all of the staff (to encourage unity between the houses), the decoration process became less than civilised. 

The Slytherin staff wanted steel chairs and green sofas; the Gryffindor staff wanted red squishy sofas lined in gold with miniature lions roaring on the fireplace mantle; the Ravenclaw staff wanted cherry wood book shelves to take up most of the room’s space with the remaining filled with desks; and the Hufflepuff staff wanted clouds moving on the ceiling with birds chirping, and a water fountain being the focal point.

The Slytherins yelled at the Hufflepuffs for being such “fluff-puff”s that only one gust from the wind would knock over.  The Gryffindors immediately turned on the Slytherins saying how they might be intolerable beings that enjoy steel sticking up their arses, but they weren’t.  The Ravenclaws at once got in a huddle calculating how their design would be the most beneficial for the price, but whenever they even started to talk, the Slytherins cast silencing charms on them, telling them that they should keep their mouths shut and their useless calculations to themselves.

It was definitely not unifying. 

The Headmaster had had to break up the fights before it became an all-out brawl; in a few seconds, he had re-decorated the whole room in neutral colours with soft and hard chairs, with firm and cushy sofas; one wall was filled with bookcases and one corner contained enough desks for each professor to use one.  

The professors’ shoulders slumped in defeat, but as the Headmaster began to head for the door, they all said at once, “Food?”

The Headmaster sighed and pointed at the empty wall without looking at it.  A bar appeared there with ten wooden stools.  Instead of a large, open area for the server, there was a blank menu on the wall, ready to be filled in with the professors’ favourites.  But what struck most of the Professors as oddest was the square, silver-rimmed screen that had colours flashing across it.

“Headmaster?” A Hufflepuff pureblood asked.

“Muggles call it a television.  This isn’t the same, since it is magically run, but I’m sure you’ll find its uses.”

The Professors went around their new staff room, trying discreetly and unsuccessfully to turn the furniture into their colour of choice—the Headmaster had thought of that.

Minerva walked over to the bar, nodding a hello to Argus Filch, who was draining a whiskey while mumbling to himself.  She requested some Irish tea.  “Want anything, Filius?”

“Just the usual hot chocolate with jumping marshmallows.”

Minerva sat down on the sofa next to Filius and continued their discussion, asking, “To do about what?”

“Miss Weasley.  She was always such a good student, but lately she can’t complete the simplest of spells.  I’m really worried about her.  What if she is losing her magic?”  Filius gestured over to Argus and whispered, “Like him.”

“Tut tut.  Miss Weasley comes from a very powerful bloodline.  It wouldn’t just cut off halfway through her education and leave Miss Weasley as a Squib.”  Minerva lowered her voice, leaning in closer to Filius, saying, “He’s the only one I know to whom it’s happened.  And who knows why.”

They both looked over towards Argus, who was staring back at them through yellow eyes with a crooked smile on his face.

“Yoo better watch out.  I’m’a gonna have red beans tonight.”

“Sometimes he really frightens me,” Minerva said to Filius.

“No worries, fair maiden,” he replied while standing up on the couch, his height just a few inches above Minerva’s while seated, with his small hands on his waist, “I have my sword in one hand, and my wand in my back pocket!  And I’m sure my tiny, fat horse will find his way back to his master so that I can ride up to said dragon of a man and slay him with my bare hands.”

Filius said all of this with a glowing stick in his hand, which he had conjured, waving it about like a madman.

Minerva broke down in peals of laughter and glanced over at Argus to see that he was fast asleep on the bar stool, about to fall over.

“Oh Filius,” she said in between bursts of laughter, “Your Sir Cadogan is the best out of the whole faculty.”

Filius continued to wave his glowing stick in every direction, cursing his abnormally fat horse for being late again.

“Slaying oxygen again, I see,” came a humourless voice from behind them.

Filius spun on his heel and threw the stick straight at Severus.

Severus’ wand banished the stick before it even came close to stabbing him, “I see you still have your humour intact, Filius,” he said while striding over to the vast bookcase.  He muttered a text title that neither of the Professors heard and walked back out of the room.

“Weird bloke, eh?” said Filius.

“I had hoped that he would be different after the war was over, but he’s still an insufferable bastard.”

Thump.

Minerva and Filius looked over to see Argus lying flat on the floor, and turned back as if nothing had happened.

-=-=-

“Harry! Come on, breakfast is almost over,” Ginny yelled up the Gryffindor boy’s staircase.  A few moments later Harry came down, lethargically dragging his feet, obviously in one of his moods.

“It’s not that bad Harry.  I know you hate it, but come on, I’m starving.”

“Fine.”  Ginny led Harry through the corridor to the Great Hall, and when Harry made the sharp turn towards the Astronomy Tower, Ginny doubled back and pulled him along the correct path. 

“I just don’t want to deal with it.”

“Yeah.”

“Every day.  I can hardly even eat in peace.  They’re always watching me, or trying to trick me into signing a bit of parchment.  I thought it was unbearable before.”

“And, ‘The Daily Prophet’.”  Ginny chimed in, grinning.

“Those bloody…” Harry sighed in exasperation. “Can’t they find someone else to bother?

“The people just need to leave. Me. ALONE.”  Each word was accented than the last.  As he finished speaking, he reached the Great Hall, pushed open the two elaborate doors and saw all eyes turned towards him, except a few from the Gryffindor table.  Even the professors were looking straight at him, although mostly with amused grins over Harry’s all-too-familiar reaction to his extensive fame and glory.  Well, not all of the professors.  Snape continued eating his toast while sneering at Harry as he viciously ripped the toast into pieces. 

Ginny grabbed Harry’s hand and led him over to their usual spot.  “You poor famous boy,” Ginny whispered teasingly in Harry’s ear.

All of them—Harry, Ginny, Hermione, Ron, Luna and Neville—got their share of fame, some of them found it annoying, while others had a bit of fun with the situation.  Ron, at first, basked in the glory of being on top, but he soon realised why Harry had loathed it all those years.  Luna took the opportunity to talk with every reporter that approached her about the latest mystery she’d encountered, and they soon left her alone, unsure about the girl’s sanity; the others were envious of Luna’s ability to drive them away, but they weren’t about to adopt her tactic.  The next article would probably be titled To the Funny Farm for Harry Potter?  A similar incident happened with Luna in the beginning, but she didn’t even take note of it.  Ginny was always the first to brush it off, and even had fun with one of the nosy reporters by telling him that Harry’s scar glowed in the dark.

Harry was annoyed at that particular article, especially when he looked up to see Ginny trying her hardest to hold in her glee.  However, this only lasted so long; when Harry gave her a hard stare, it caused the waves of laughter to come out.  At first, Harry was enraged that she’d been adding to the rubbish bin called The Daily Prophet—and all other media for that matter.  But mid-rant, Ginny cut in, saying, “You poor famous boy,” with a look of utter sadness in her warm brown eyes.  There was complete silence between the pair, which spread to everyone around them, but the tension broke all at once and Harry wasn’t able to contain his amusement either.

After that, Harry tried to see it as all in good fun, but it still aggravated him at times.  Ginny would remember that article at those times and remind Harry of it as well.

Harry sat down next to Ginny, opposite of Hermione and Ron.  Hermione, aware of Harry’s mood, hid the day’s paper under the table.

“So what’s it today?” Harry said, noticing Hermione’s quick movement out of the corner of his eye.  “Have I grown an extra bellybutton to store food in?”  Harry scooped liberal amounts of eggs and kippers onto his plate with a little too much vigour, spreading a few egg bits onto Ron’s plate.

“Thanks, mate.” Ron said, grinning, “And actually no, but that’s a good one.”  He made a mental note to store that juicy rumour.

“They’re always buzzing around.  I have half a mind to turn them into flies and swat them once and for all.”  Harry turned his head to the right to look at Ginny, but he noticed a small beetle on his shoulder first, looking back at him with wide eyes.  The bug immediately leapt into the air, flying away.  It was just in time, too, because Harry had conjured a swatter and was searching the air for any sign of where Skeeter might have gone.  He looked like a total maniac, standing next to the Gryffindor table with a bright yellow plastic flyswatter in one hand, his eyes darting back and forth.  Ginny roughly grabbed his shirt and dragged him back down into his seat.

“You’re mad.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed, paying more attention to the surprising strength of Ginny’s hands on his chest than to what he was saying.  Almost as soon as the thought registered, however, her hands were no longer there.

“You know, Muggle superstars go through the same problem of being inundated with the media,” said Hermione, more for the benefit of the Weasley siblings, as well as Neville and Luna, who were sitting nearby.  “When I was at my parents’ last summer, I was reading Sun Magazine…”

“Sun?”  Harry cut in.  “Why would you, of all people, read Sun?”

“What’s Sun?” Ron asked impatiently.

“It’s a tabloid magazine that has information about famous people—mainly stupid stuff like affairs and crazy rumours.  My Aunt would always buy that crap,” Harry explained quickly.

“Yes, well there was this one article on this pop star and someone named Robert Wilson.  They attacked the reporters and stole their cameras because they were so fed up with it.”

“You mean Robbie Williams?” Ginny asked, “Yeah, he’s hot.  The Muggleborn in my dorm put up posters of him a long time ago.  We like waking up to his body.”

“Oh, I did not need to hear that,” said Ron.  Harry was thinking the same thing.  Harry stared at Ginny with a weird expression on his face.  He didn’t like the change in topics.

“So, in other words, Hermione, you’re encouraging me to hex all reporters, or beetles for that matter.”

“No, of course not.  Those two reacting like that only made the situation worse.”  Hermione paused.  “What we need to do is research the creating of a magical force around each of us, so they won’t be able to approach us.  I’ll look into it.”

“Brilliant idea,” praised Ron.  “After class though—we’ve got Transfiguration.”

-=-=-

It was a cold January morning and the grounds were pristine white with snow; they were currently being invaded with Gryffindor and Slytherin sixth-years.  Their feet trudged, crunching the snow, none of them too happy about spending another Care of Magical Creatures course out in the whipping crisp air.  For today’s lesson, Hagrid had gotten his hands on seven diricawls, which they later learnt was a hard task in itself.

Ginny, Colin and Sarah, along with the rest of the class, approached Hagrid and the weirdly shaped birds.

They were all plump and beady-eyed, with fluffy grey feathers and tiny wings.  They looked very cuddly and cute.  This perplexed Ginny greatly, since “cute” in Hagrid’s vocabulary applied to dragons, and he was much more inclined to bring a dragon to class than hyperactive birds.

“Come in closer ter get a better look at ‘em.”  While Hagrid was always warm with his heavy cloak, the students would freeze their buttocks off—especially the stubborn Slytherins who stupidly thought they could handle the cold with only one cloak.  In reality, Ginny figured that they wanted something more to complain about, seeing as Hagrid’s teaching skills had improved greatly since his first train-wreck of a year.

“This bird is a diricawl.  See the small wingspan—can’t fly, but,” he said with one large finger held up, “but when they sense danger, they’er able ter vanish, and lose feathers in the pr’cess.

“A diricawl that has vanished many times in a short period becomes feath’rless…”

Hagrid was going on about Muggles being aware of the creature or something—Ginny wasn’t really listening.  However, the doodling on her paper was becoming quite extensive.  At first she was just drawing an unknown person; it became more of an artistic drawing than a doodle.  As she had gotten used to doing, she whispered a spell at the paper and watched as the person’s face started to move.  The drawing changed slightly, and when she looked back down she saw Harry’s face winking at her.  She hastily slammed her book shut.

At the sound, there was one less diricawl and a pile of feathers, although Ginny saw that it reappeared just behind the other diricawls.  Obviously they weren’t too bright.

“Now class, no sharp movements or they’ll vanish and get lost.  They aren’ the smartest o’ beasts.”

After that last note, Hagrid let the class interact with the diricawls, and since the birds were such a playful magical species, Ginny and her friends had fun chasing one they’d named Bob—they thought it a fitting name because whenever he’d walk, his head would bounce up and down.  Ginny couldn’t help but laugh at the bird’s strange personality.

Back inside the castle and up a few levels, Harry was in Transfiguration class, learning the third lesson of three on the theory behind partial transfiguration.  He wasn’t listening to Professor McGonagall’s strict voice, although he knew he should be.  Instead, he was looking out the window at a small figure with red hair whom he had noticed a few minutes earlier.

Because of the distance she looked very small, so he utilised one of his spying spells that had been very useful during the war—Tonks had teased him about using the spell to spy on girls in the locker room, but it wasn’t as if Ginny was in a compromising situation.  It’s not as if he didn’t know the course material anyway, he reasoned with himself.

It had been just about a year ago that Professor McGonagall had taught Harry to become an Animagus.  It had been imperative that he learn the skill for the war, because as they knew far too well, any advantage over the enemy could be the difference between life and death.

Harry had looked forward to those training sessions, almost as much as his Apparition training.  He was excited to learn the skill that his father and Sirius had learnt when they were at Hogwarts—but of course, they had learned on their own.  When Dumbledore informed him of this extra training he started to have dreams; in each dream he was a different creature.  Magnificent creatures like griffins, phoenixes, tigers, dragons, lions, and even once a stag.

This was why Harry was a bit let down when, after a month of training, his form took the shape of a Northern Hawk Owl.  Harry was expecting something fierce that could easily rip a Death Eater to shreds.  However disappointed he had been at first, it was quickly put out of his mind when he first took flight on a bright, windy day.  He soared through the Hogwarts grounds, midnight-black wings fully extended.  His large bright eyes took in the school from a different viewpoint.  And he decided then that he liked flying this way even better than via Firebolt.

The first time he went out, though, he became exhausted in a very short time, having to return back through the window to rejoin a proud Professor McGonagall.

Harry had practiced every day, increasing the strength of the new muscles that he’d need for sustained flight.  He quickly found out during Quidditch practises, he had almost a sixth sense up in the air now—even more so than before.

During the war, being an owl was the perfect cover, and Harry had been able to spy on Death Eater activity.  Without it they would have been blind-sided when Voldemort launched his final attack—even Professor Snape had been kept in the dark and out of Voldemort’s inner circle due to suspicions about his loyalties.

It was likely that Harry had saved Snape, since he had just evaded Voldemort’s wrath.  Snape’s bitterness had grown even more towards the boy.  He didn’t want to admit that the “hot-headed strutter” had saved him.

“Now, you have all studied your animal extensively this past week.  So, the moment of truth.”

Harry snapped his head away from the window to see Professor McGonagall giving him a hard stare.  Getting his mind back to the class, he looked around to observe what the rest of the class was doing.  Hermione was the first to transfigure; her head turned immediately into a griffin.  Ron, who thought lemurs very amusing, was partially transfigured into that animal. 

Harry looked at his wand, concentrating on the shape and size of a lion’s head before casting the spell.  Unfortunately, the spell did not have the desired effect.

“You look like a red-haired Chewbacca!” Dean Thomas helpfully provided; he had already reversed his llama transfiguration.

Most of the Muggleborns snickered, knowing Harry would get in trouble this time around.  Lately, he had been failing at the smallest tasks, so that even Neville—who’d come a long way since the war—was doing a better job in class than he.  The majority of the class knew he was an owl Animagus—The Daily Prophet had made sure that one wasn’t a secret for long.

Professor McGonagall was not amused.

“Mister Potter, just because the Dark Lord was defeated in no way allows you to go on a holiday during school hours,” she said in her most stern voice, pursing her lips into the thinnest of lines, ”Please do listen and pay attention, Mr. Potter.

Harry, still in his “Chewbacca” form, looked downcast, risking a glance over at Ron and Hermione.  Hermione gave him a knowing look that put him slightly on edge, so he quickly diverted his gaze to Ron who was grinning, encouraging Harry to play the Chewbacca part (Harry and Hermione had introduced Ron and Ginny to Star Wars and other Muggle films the prior summer).

Harry smiled mischievously, which looked really strange in his new form. Harry revelled in small things like this now—he felt freer now that the war was finally over.  He knew he shouldn’t, but he let a long loud Chewbacca yell, anyways, testing the waters. 

Professor McGonagall huffed at his disruption to her class, not to mention the classes being held on the same floor as well.  “Go see Madam Pomfrey, Mister Potter—maybe she can set you straight.”

-=-=-

Ginny walked through the stone corridor, her footfalls echoing through the hall, her wand arm pounding.  She looked at her arm just in time to see the clear pus turn purple. 

Apparently Bob didn’t appreciate Ginny and the others chasing him around.  Every ten seconds, Bob would disappear and pop back just five feet to the left or right to continue his zigzag pattern.  Colin had made a wild dive to catch him, but he popped away, reappearing on Ginny’s shoulder.  His claws dug into her shoulder, then he dove towards the ground, but disappeared altogether before he landed.

She’d let out a yelp, which really did not go far enough to express the damage that the strange diriclaw had inflicted.  Ginny was accustomed to pain, and had thought it interesting to see the orange goo excreting from the wound.

As she opened the large doors to the Hospital Wing (using her uninjured shoulder), it changed into a sickening green colour.  She saw Harry sitting with his back towards her.  Ginny walked over to the bed closest to Harry.  His back was still turned; apparently, he was in deep thought.

She jumped onto the clean white sheets and when Harry still didn’t note her presence, she jumped the three-foot difference onto Harry’s bed.  Harry’s head, and whole body for that matter, whipped around, drawing his wand out of thin air.  Ginny could see him visibly relax after the extreme tension that had taken over his body after her abrupt surprise.  She knew it was the after-effects of the war and his training—constant vigilance and all that.  Ginny did the same thing from time to time when a seeming threat appeared to her.  But the world where fear was the basis of living was over.

Ginny saw his eyes widen in alarm as he saw her shoulder, which was now excreting large amounts of the green pus. “What happened?” he asked, not waiting for the answer as he ran to fetch Madam Pomfrey. 

The mediwitch came up to Ginny, tutting, and scanned her right side for any infection or poison.  “A diricawl?” she questioned. “Mark Stebbins was in this morning.”  Madam Pomfrey went into her back storage room (Ginny assumed) while Harry examined her shoulder, taking her robes and laying them to the side on the bed.  He continued by cutting off her t-shirt at the shoulder for better access to the wound.

Madam Pomfrey joined them, and upon seeing Harry’s actions and care, handed him the ointment.

“Miss Weasley, if you could turn towards me,” she said, before casting a spell to clean the wound.  “Mister Potter, I assume you’ll gladly finish?” she said with a gleam in her eyes as she strode off.

“What happened?” Harry asked, scooping some ointment into his hands and gently applying it, ignoring Madam Pomfrey’s unlikely behaviour.

“I,” Ginny started, then sucked in her breath from the coldness of the ointment.

“Sorry.”

“Bob decided that my shoulder would make a perfect diving board.”

“So Bob is a terrifying, flesh-ripping, cousin to Voldemort twice removed, then.”  Harry smiled.

“What happened to you?”

“Oh, transfiguration, er… miscalculation—all fixed now though.”

“No, I meant the reason to why you were so entranced earlier.”

“Just thinking.”

“Oh?” Ginny commented in mock surprise.

“Hey…don’t make me,” he said while scooping up more of the creamy substance.

“Is that a threat?”  Ginny shifted herself on the bed, better exposing her shoulder.  Harry’s eyes were drawn to her bare skin.

Ginny looked at him intently, suddenly wondering what he was looking at.  Then she noticed, fighting a blush and reasoned immediately that she was wrong.

“So, what were you in such deep thought about?” Ginny asked quickly, Harry’s eyes snapping up to meet hers.

“Just the usual.”

“The meaninglessness?”  Harry nodded.  Ginny inwardly sighed.  She felt the same whenever she wasn’t with friends and keeping herself busy.  After the war, the problem of what to do next or what was expected of them troubled Ginny, as well as Harry.  The war had seemed to last a lifetime, and without the war, they felt lost as to what came next.

“I still can’t comprehend it.  All I’ve ever heard was that it was my destiny to destroy Voldemort.  That’s done.  So all I needed to do is finished.”

“Harry,” scolded Ginny. “You know as well as I that you are not here solely for that stupid prophecy.  Your destiny wasn’t to destroy Voldemort.  It was to live.  And now we can finally live normally.”

“But what is normal, anyway?” Said Harry, a look of anguish on his face.

“I know.  But the closest I can define normal for us is to live without worry.  To be with friends, ones we love—and now we can do anything we wish without Voldemort in the way.”

“It feels strange.”

“Yeah, we’ll get used to normal eventually,” she said while bringing Harry in for a hug, he making sure to not squeeze her just-healed shoulder.  “After all, it’s not like Voldemort will be popping out from behind rubbish bins trying to do us in anymore.”

They both shared a smile as Madam Pomfrey returned to sentence them to their own beds until the next class period.

-=-=-

“Filius, you’ll never guess.”

Minerva quickly strode into the professor’s room, spotting Filius right off.

“I’ve figured it out. Miss Weasley and Mister Potter are doing poorly because all they think about during classes is each other!”  Minerva let out an uncharacteristic squeak after victoriously pronouncing her information.  Filius’ eyes grew wide, a large smile covering his small head.

“Pffft!” A scoffing noise came from the bar.

Minerva looked over to see Argus and Severus knocking back Firewhiskey.  Normally, Severus never entered the professor’s room—something like he’d shrivel and die if he were exposed to mindless chatter was the common perception.  There were only two conditions under which the other professors saw Severus there: when he needed a book from their vast collection and every Friday night when “Ensnaring the Senses”—a detective soap opera show about Potion masters solving mysterious cases—was on. 

Minerva had heard that Severus begged Dumbledore for his own set, but he was refused.  Severus was always extra irritable when forced to tolerate the other professors just so he could watch his show.

“Was there something you wanted to say, Severus?” asked Minerva in an annoyed tone.

“Trying to make pathetic excuses for your student—it’s amazing how denial spreads like wildfire where Potter is concerned,” he said dryly, and spat out, “Pathetic,” to conclude his thoughts on the matter.

“Well, Severus, how about a wager,” said Filius, a gleam of mischief in his eye.

With the end credits rolling, Severus gracefully got off his stool, walking to the couch where Minerva and Filius were seated.  “What kind of a wager, Filius?”

“Let’s say, if Weasley’s and Potter’s grades improve once they are a couple, then you will have to attend the Celebration Ball and dance with someone, who will later be determined.”

“What do I get when it’s proven that Weasley and Potter are just lazy pompous pupils?”

“Let’s just say, I could get you one of those television sets for your quarters?”

“Hmm, very good.  But you seem to forget one thing.  You’re assuming that the pair,” a look of disgust covered his already pale face, “fancy each other.”

Minerva piped in, “We’ll make sure they become a couple.  Don’t you remember those days, Severus?  All you needed was a broom closet.”

Severus nearly spewed out the Firewhiskey that he was currently drinking, recalling a very vivid memory.  “Fine, then.”  Filius held out his diminutive hand, a second later followed by Minerva’s slender one.  Severus shook both briefly.

The Potions master gave one last look to Argus, still seated at the bar, and left.

Minerva broke out in a large grin as soon as the door slammed shut.  “Filius, that was perfect.  But how will you produce another television set?”

“Oh Minny, details, details.  Besides—we won’t lose.  So how did you come across the news?”

“Potter was hopeless in class again—he looked like the window had hypnotized him.  He did his transfiguration wrong, of course.  After class I took a look out the window to see the sixth-year Gryffindor class.  What tied it all together, though, is the juicy part: Harry’s mistake covered his head with, well, lots of red hair.  It all fits.”

“Interesting.  Definitely good news.  So we need a plan.  We can’t rightly throw them into a cupboard and lock it, now can we?” Filius smiled, teasing her over her previous comment that he was still lost on.

“Oh, pish.  I wasn’t even the one who did it, all right.  And after all, it did work for her…for a while.”

“Okay, well,” Filius stopped, and the pair both went into deep thought over the possible plans, trying to determine which would be successful.

“I’ve got it!” said Minerva after a few minutes’ time had past, “Potter and Weasley never pay attention, so how about a few well-deserved detentions?”  Minerva smiled evilly.

-=-=-

“Hermione, what happens when you mix trevil with florentine?

“It’ll result in a potion overflow because the trevil is temperamental and expands when exposed to florentine.  You don’t want to mix them.”

“Hey, why does Harry get answers, but not me?”

“Stop whining, Ron.  Harry, don’t you have that detention at five?”

Harry checked his watch, gathered his books, and ran down the stairs and corridors and out to the Forbidden Forest.

Since it was still winter, Harry figured that Hagrid was in his hut waiting for him to show up.  Harry jogged through the deep snow, knowing he was late.  His breathing shallow, his cheeks red, he pounded on the door.

“Hi!  Welcome to detention, naughty boy.”

Harry gaped.

“What’s wrong?”  Asked Ginny.

“Oh, er—nothing.  I just didn’t know I had a partner in crime for detention.”

“Hurry up.  Get inside; it’s freezing.”

Harry stepped in quickly, now completely enveloped in warmth.

“Heya Harry,” welcomed Hagrid.  “Too bad we can’ have a few more o’ me biscuits.”  Harry tried not to cringe.  “Better start so yeh can be done before dark.

“Yeh need to pick enough nebbles to fill these two cont’iners,” said Hagrid as he handed Harry and Ginny each a cylinder-shaped case.

“Why would we need to pick nebbles, Hagrid?” asked Ginny.  “Those are only used in love potions.”

“'course, but they’re also used ter reverse love potions.  Some young’r students have been up ter no good.”

Harry and Ginny bid farewell to Hagrid, after he informed them that he had other business that he had to get to, and they started on their way.

They were deep in the forest where the blood-red-coloured plant was most predominant.

“How did you know about the nebbles?”

“Oh.  My mum told me this one fairy tale when I was around ten about a girl who made a love potion to make a boy love her back.

“Why did you get detention?” asked Ginny, switching the subject.

“I’ve been messing up royally in Transfiguration.  She said something to the effect of, ‘You can learn to be an Animagus in two months and defeat the Dark Lord, but you can’t turn into a worthless chicken?’” Harry imitated McGonagall’s voice perfectly.

“You do that voice almost too well.”

“What about you?”

“Something similar, actually.  In Charms we were learning sticking and un-sticking spells, and the sticking part got out of control.  We had to hang these paintings up around the castle,” Ginny as referring to one part that had been damaged and had to be rebuilt.  “But I sorta, er—missed, and in the end got Gavin, Sarah, Andre, and myself stuck to the wall instead.”

“Whoa, I’m sure Flitwick just loved that.”

“Yeah.  He sorta got stuck too,” said Ginny, a sheepish grin on her face.

Harry laughed at the image of Professor Flitwick stuck along with the students, and at the expression on Ginny’s face.  “When did we become such magical klutzes?”

Ginny smiled, shrugging, “No idea, but we’d better shape up before we lose our reputations as ‘Saviours of the World.’”  She picked up more nebbles, adding them to her half-filled container.  “How many do you have?”

Harry tried to hide his container, as Ginny tried to peer into it.  “Er—none yet, actually.  What do they look like again?”

“Here, look.”  Ginny held out a nebble, showing the blood-red stem and lighter leaves that looked like they were made of a silky material.

“Like this one?”

“No, you need the older ones that are a little more shrivelled for the counter-potions.”

The pair searched for a while, running around, racing to see who could fill their basket first.  Once they were well out of breath, Harry asked a question that had been nagging at him, “How do you know so much about love potions, Ginny?  I doubt a fairy tale would go into such detail to describe the type of nebble used.”

“Well, the story is what piqued my interest.  I searched our bookcases for information on love potions and found what I was looking for in 999 Potions and How to Brew Them. 

“Ah, a sneaky scholar at the age of ten.”

“Oh, yes,” she paused reflectively and continued, “It had all the ingredients listed—one being nebbles, of course, and how each love potion will affect a person.”

“So did you brew it behind your mum’s back?”

“Yeah, but it didn’t work—we didn’t have any nebbles.”

Harry had just been joking before and his mind began to overload: Ginny, a love potion, and crushes at a young age.  Harry was aware of Ginny’s old crush; he figured that most people were.  Harry thought it ironic that Ginny would think of brewing a love potion when obviously she was the last witch in the world who’d need to make use of them.

Ginny, sensing his uneasiness, continued, “But it was all for naught, anyway.  I realised how silly it all was.  A person can’t force love.  Love has a mind of its own and it never corresponds with the brain or what’s rational.  If the brain can’t change the heart, how could a potion?  I guess if I had listened harder to that fairy tale I would have learnt that from the beginning.”

They both lapsed into silence, Harry thinking about how true her statement was, and they finished the detention quickly, before the darkness settled.

-=-=-

Severus was bitter.  He wanted revenge.  The Gryffindors had no respect for the rules, as far as he was concerned.  Minerva and Dumbledore even had their weaknesses, but he guessed they were simply too blind to see it.

And now with this stupid wager; he couldn’t believe that Minerva had stooped so low as to blame the stupidity of two students on their “undying” love for each other.  It was simply mad.  Severus wasn’t the type to get involved in the personal affairs of the students; hell, he retched at the very thought.  But this was different.  When he’d win and receive his own television set, he’d never have to see any of those pathetic adults who called themselves professors.  He allowed himself to think of the alternative for only a second—no, he would not allow that to happen.

There was a sharp knock at the sturdy wooden door, which Severus ignored until he noticed, to his annoyance, that the person wasn’t leaving.  “What is it?” he asked in an even tone, not caring to expend the further effort of raising his voice.

“Severus, my visit is about a wager.”

Severus didn’t say anything or look up.  He simply grunted, so Argus correctly took that as his cue to continue.

“I’ve seen Potter get away with too much.  I’ve wanted to hang him from shackles since his first year.”

Argus didn’t respond; he stood contemplating the possibilities.

“And?” asked Severus, his patience thinning, as he wished that Argus would snap out of it before he lost his lunch.

Argus shook himself out of his reverie, “I have some information.  Minerva’s proclamation was not pulled from thin air.  She saw that Potter’s distraction during class was due to Weasley, who was on the grounds outside for a class.”

“Then I guess we’ll have to stop the pair.” Severus stated, referring to Minerva and Filius as well as Harry and Ginny.

“I’ll help in any way.”

“Yes, good day, Argus.”  Snape said this in a dismissing manner, yet Argus was still subjecting him to his presence.

“Anything further, Argus?”

“Uh, no.”  Argus stood there stupidly a moment longer, and then finally departed.  Now that Severus was alone, he started to run through his options.  He was fully ready to play to his strengths.

-=-=-

“Oh look.  They’re coming down together,” noticed Minerva, elbowing Filius lightly for him to look up.  She had gotten accustomed to elbowing him gently, after an occasion a few months ago, shortly after the wager had begun.  Harry and Ginny entered the Hall, apparently holding hands, and Minerva (in her excitement) had knocked Filius from his chair.  It turned out that they were not actually holding hands, much to her dismay.

Filius, now, wobbled in his seat for a moment, while looking up.  Harry and Ginny had taken their usual seats for dinner.

“Minny, they already always come down together.  And, yes, always sit together.”  Filius knew she was on the verge of a pout, and also knew that in front of the students she wouldn’t dare; she’d keep her professional exterior.  “Oh wow, he’s scooping some vegetables onto her plate for her.”

Minerva snapped her head up, and saw she’d been tricked.  Filius was rewarded for his teasing by a scowl and a sharp unexpected hit from under the table.  “Minny, now, contain yourself.”  She let a small smile show at his antics.

“We cannot let Severus win.”  Minerva looked to her left, past Filius to see Severus sitting at the other end, no one near him, looking disgruntled as ever.

“You need to calm down, Minny—maybe a bubble bath…”  Filius had a whole list to continue but Minerva’s piercing glare cut him off, so he continued in a safer territory, “It’s obvious they fancy each other.  I mean, even from here you can see Harry’s goofy smile.  During the war, I only saw him smile when he was around Ginny.  We’ll win, and then you’ll get your dance.”

“What?” Minerva hissed, drawing attention from the other professors.  “Was that your plan?  I am not dancing with him, Filius Flitwick, so you’d better find some other poor soul.”

“You’re anything but a poor soul, Minerva.  But I thought you had a thing for him.  Your constant negative comments about him—sounded like suppressed feelings to me.”

“Ha. Very wrong, Filius.  I don’t say those things to obscure anything.  It’s simply the truth.”

Filius looked unbelieving.  “Trust me, Filius.” 

Before he could say anything in return, Poppy scooted her chair closer, making a loud screeching noise in the process.  “I couldn’t help overhearing.”

Most of the professors turned to see what the commotion was about, Minerva annoyed that others had been listening in.  “Well, be discreet, will you?”

“What Minny means to say is, did you find what you heard interesting?” queried Filius.

“Cut the crap, Filius.  I know Minny told you about my Severus fetish long ago.” said Poppy sharply.  Filius looked amused.

“Actually, no.”  Poppy turned red quickly, muttering an apology, Minerva smiling all the while.

“It was the broom closet—remember when I mentioned it to Severus.  I had caught, ahem, the pair in a certain situation way back,” Minerva elaborated.

“Yes, well.” Poppy, frazzled, cut in, not wanting her to go into further detail.  “I have a proposal.”  Minerva gave Filius a meaningful look, containing her laughter.  Poppy, ignoring her, continued, “If I help swing the wager in your favour, which, I’d like to add, I’ve already done a bit, can I have that dance?”

“That sounds good to me, Minny?”

“Yes, Filly, of course I have no qualms.”

“Don’t you remember what happened last time you used that name?”

“Selective memory.”

“You mean forgetful memory.”  Filius grinned widely.

Poppy, feeling left out, said, “Personally, I can’t believe they’re not a couple already.”

“Ah yes, the denial of young love.” said Filius, head help up, looking into the distance as if trying to find something.  He quickly snapped out of his little act.  “How’s a few days from now at five p.m. for another planning session?”

-=-=-

“Ah, Miss Weasley.  So the intriguingly secret note was from you?”  Harry was sitting on a large red couch, leaving two armchairs open.  The ceiling of the room was very different than it usually was, taking a dome-like shape.  It looked like the sky outside, with the blue growing darker as a multitude of colours shot out across it.  Where the sky ended, the trees and bushes took over the back of the room, while the front looked as though it continued on through the distance.  Ginny walked fully into the room, the door clicking behind her.

“Wow, I’ve never seen the Room of Requirements like this before.”  Ginny took one last look around before continuing, “And, no, I haven’t been sending any secret notes.”

“Then who is this from?”  Ginny plunked down on the couch next to Harry, grabbing the parchment from Harry’s outstretched hand.

“Not me, but that handwriting looks familiar.  I got a similar note.”

“Strange, why would someone want us to meet here?”  Harry quickly got up, examining every aspect of the room for troubles, and he checked the door last. “It’s locked.”

Ginny got up, slightly concerned.  Harry, noticing this, cast five different unlocking charms on the door, each one unsuccessful.  “Locked in, but I couldn’t find anything wrong with the room.  Except that, depending on when we can get out of here, we’ll probably miss Quidditch practise and dinner.”  Just then a wooden table for two appeared in the middle of the room, in front of the couch, with dinner.  On closer inspection they saw their dinner was filet mignon, baked potato, corn, and bread—all looking very good.

“That solves one problem.” Ginny grinned.  She wasted no time in starting to eat the provided food.

“Wait, Ginny, what if it’s charmed or poisoned?”

“Don’t be silly.  The room is of no harm and the handwriting of the notes we know, so it’s probably just someone who wants to give us a relaxing break from school, and everything.”  Ginny grabbed a roll from the bowl in the middle of the table and spread enough butter on it, taking a bite, “And anything this good, cannot be charmed.”

“I guess you’re right,” he consented, taking the seat opposite her.

“Well, of course.”

Harry studied her face and the evil smile playing on her lips, but looked down before she could notice him watching.  They ate in near silence; they loved the filet mignon, which was a huge improvement over the usual chicken.

After they finished, they collapsed on the couch together, the sky now much darker and the table fading away now that they were done.  They rested comfortably in silence, Ginny’s head leaning against Harry’s shoulder.  Harry figured that he’d overreacted, since they weren’t growing third legs or going mad. 

Harry had been doing that a lot lately, but he’d been taught to expect the unexpected.  He had a hard time letting his guard down since anytime in the past that he had, he or someone else close to him had been hurt.  It was like he was holding on to the past, doing what he knew, watching his attempts fail in the new world where the war was over and everyone was picking up the pieces, rebuilding.  The only time when he felt comfortable with the future was around Ginny, and even then, he was scared about why that was possible.  She always had a talent for putting everything into perspective.  The problem was that with it being N.E.W.T. year, and Ginny having a rigorous schedule as well, there had been not as much free time as previous years. 

Ginny still found time to talk with him every day, and while Harry accepted Ginny’s friendship and help, he felt like he needed to move forwards on his own.  It was hard for him to accept the helping hand; he felt like he was burdening her with his problems.  Of course, Ginny would beat that attitude out of him—not literally—and he’d cave in to her demands.  They had grown really close the past two years.

Harry looked down, seeing a frown on Ginny’s face.  “What’s wrong?”

Ginny snapped out of her thoughts, “Thinking about next year.  It won’t be the same without you lot here.”

“I imagine it’ll be dull,” teased Harry.

“Git,” she said fondly.

“You’ll still have Sarah and Colin.  You’ll have fun; you’ll rule the school and spread the pranks, despite your being Head Girl of course.”

“Yeah right, Stacey Darmelhurst from Ravenclaw will be.  But now that you said that, it’s jinxed anyways.”

“All lies.  You’re the smartest witch in this school—and don’t give me that look—I know for a fact that it’s true.  Your O.W.L.’s were even higher than Hermione’s.”

“Only by a point.  And besides, I’m sure she would’ve done better if the circumstances were different.”

Harry recalled his not-so-great O.W.L. scores in History of Magic, Astronomy and Divination. He had managed to do well enough in all the others to enter into the Auror track of schooling.  Since it was only a few months until graduation, the trio had been inundated with offers of jobs.  Hermione had gotten floods of them, and each day she was leaning towards a different area, unable to make up her mind.  She confessed that it disheartened her that she couldn’t do it all.  Ron was happy over his possibilities, especially when he was offered a place on the Chudley Cannons (anyone who read The Daily Prophet or Witch Weekly knew they were his favourite team).  Harry had gotten an offer from every single department in the Ministry, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement included.  Many different Quidditch teams wanted to draft him as well.  He was even offered jobs in Wizarding shops whenever he entered them.  He thought it strange and a lot to digest at once, especially since he hadn’t even taken his N.E.W.T.s yet.

“Sorry.”

“For what?”

“For bringing that up.”

“Oh, no, I wasn’t thinking of that, I was actually thinking about whether I should stick with being an Auror.”

“What made you want to be an Auror?”

“It seemed like the logical career to go into with Voldemort loose.  It’s over, but the Death Eaters haven’t given in yet, and they’ll always be something for the Aurors to do.”

“But I know it wasn’t solely because of Voldemort.  You like helping people, keeping them away from the evil in the world.  It’s a huge responsibility, and one you’ve carried your whole Wizarding life.  I could see why you’d need a break.”

Harry, amazed by how she pinned his exact feelings, nodded in agreement.

“I am tempted to join a Quidditch team with Ron.  I’m not sure about the Chudley Cannons, but I think we’d have some good times.”

“That would be a fun break.  Get to travel and enjoy the game.  I’ve thought of doing the same for a few years at least.”

Harry thought about him, Ginny, and Ron all on the same team—that’d be a great few years.  Anything more than a few years would get to be too much with the constant moving, being away from home and family.  By then though, Harry realised, he wouldn’t have a home.  His time at Hogwarts would be over, and while he knew the Weasleys would take him in like their own, he didn’t want to impose.  Mrs Weasley had already made it clear that he was to stay at The Burrow after graduation, but he’d been thinking of maybe getting a flat with Ron.

“Have you thought of being a professor?”

“After the DA, I did, but I think I want to get away from the school a bit—there are so many other things to do.  And I can always come back later.”

“I’ve been thinking about the same,” Ginny yawned, “But eventually I’d like to teach Charms.”

“You can teach Charms, I can do Defence, Ron can do Divination, and Hermione could do Transfiguration…and every other subject, for that matter.”

“The four of us in teaching roles?  We’d definitely be able to overrule Snape by then.”

Ginny shook slightly in laughter for a moment, still leaning against Harry.  A few minutes passed, Harry in silent thought about the following year.

“But next year won’t be bad,” he said getting back to Ginny’s original worry.  “I’ll visit, and then I can join you on Hogsmeade days—it’ll be fine.”

Harry looked down to gauge Ginny’s reaction to his rather strong assertion.  Harry sighed, seeing Ginny fast asleep on him.  She wiggled, snuggling in deeper.  Harry, rather liking the sensations running down his side, leaned over, making sure not to wake Ginny, also falling asleep, basking in her warmth.

“WHAT do you THINK you are DOING!?”

Harry’s ears were assaulted by a loud noise, one that increased in volume as he groggily woke up.  He was warm all over and was beginning to get very irritated at the intruder.  He opened his eyes, his glasses askew on his face, to see a very irate Ron.  His face was as red as his hair.  Harry unsuccessfully tried to get up to see what Ron was in a strop about; when he saw Ginny cuddled on top of him, her hair haloed in all directions, he became very nervous for his own well being.

Harry’s mind snapped into functioning mode.  He gently shook Ginny awake.

“Huh? Go away.”  Ginny opened her eyes and saw Harry first, “What…?”

“Exactly!” Ron started again, “What are you doing in bed with my sister, Harry?”

Harry sputtered, recovering quickly enough to give a weak explanation, “It’s not what it looks like.  Ginny and I are friends.  We got locked in here—we couldn’t find a way out” Not that we looked much, he said to himself.

Ginny cut in, obviously angry, “Ron, get a grip.  I don’t need looking-after from you, but thanks for saving us from the dangerously scary room that captured us,” she commented sarcastically.

Harry watched as Ginny left the room, and Ron turned his eyes on Harry, giving him a calculated look.

“Drop it, Ron.  Nothing happened.”

“All right.” Ron said, slightly coming to his senses, dropping the subject.

-=-=-

“Detention!”

Snape’s malicious voice echoed in Ginny’s head as she walked down to the dungeons.  Normally, Ginny was able to stay clear of Snape’s wrath, even though she was a Gryffindor and best friend to Harry.  She was careful during class, making sure to leave no openings for Snape’s unfairness. 

Earlier in today’s class, though, she had been paired with Damon.  He turned out to be a very good Potions student.  Ginny worked on the administering of the ingredients, while Damon prepared them, slicing them to perfection.  The potion was just the right orange colour.  They were nearing the last step when the potion turned red, which it wasn’t supposed to do, and exploded all over the pair.  Ginny quickly cast healing charms on herself, then Damon, making sure that he was all right.  Ginny had no idea what had gone wrong—they’d been careful the whole time.  Snape wasn’t happy in the least; melted cauldrons were something that really set him off.  As he was assigning them their detention, Damon cleaned up the potion mess with a scorching charm.

Classes aside, Damon seemed to pop up wherever she went, whether it was walking in the halls to her next class or outside near the Quidditch pitch.  He’d often wander into her thoughts.  When she was being honest with herself, she thought Damon looked like Harry.  He had the messy black hair and the physique of an athlete from his hours playing Quidditch.  He was a few inches taller than Harry, and had light blue eyes that stood out against his tanned skin.  She also figured that he was kind, generous, caring, funny, and intelligent.  If she had to be stuck in detention, she guessed that spending it with Damon wouldn’t be all bad.

Though, she much preferred sharing them with Harry.  But she wasn’t sure about what Harry was thinking.  They had become very close, but he still remained a slight mystery to her.  Lately, he’d been shy at the weirdest moments, but she figured he just wasn’t used to having someone tease him so much.  And she liked that their friendship was different than his others.  She had reconciled with the fact that all she’d ever have was friendship with Harry.  It was pretty obvious that he didn’t want a relationship with Ginny.  She tried to keep her feelings in check, afraid that they were still so strong, and worried that they wouldn’t fade over time.

“Ginny?” queried Damon.

“Oh, hey, Damon.”  Ginny looked around the dank, smelly classroom.  “Where’s Snape?”

Before Damon could answer, Snape stepped into the room from his office, “Miss Weasley, nice of you to join us. Finally.”

She quickly took the seat to the left of Damon, knowing that any excuse wouldn’t be acceptable.

Snape glared at them before saying, “You can thank Logan Twitrite, because his detention was so long that I have no more mindless tasks.  You will sit here for two hours.  No moving.  No homework.  No talking.”  He said it, making sure that they understood that horrible things would befall them if they didn’t follow his strict instructions.  He glared at them once more, before exiting the dungeons, his black robes billowing behind him, apparently to attend to other business.

Damon inaudibly sighed to himself, looking straight forward, getting bored very quickly.  The classroom was dull.  There was nothing to look at, no reports on the walls or pictures, unless you counted the potions that had exploded and splattered on the walls ever since the classroom was in use.

“What’s got his knickers in a bunch?  You know, I would love to hear his full story.”

Damon looked up at her, surprise on his face.

“What?  You think every Gryffindor follows the rules?”

“No, not exactly.  But it is the generalisation, isn’t it.”

“Yes, but not every Gryffindor follows the rules, not every Slytherin is slimy, not every Ravenclaw is intelligent, and not every Hufflepuff is a pushover.  Didn’t you know this?”  Ginny had an amused smile.

“There are exceptions to every generalisation, but most fit into that category,” he paused, “I guess you’re an exception.”

“So should I ask if you’re of the exception too then?”

“I guess you could say that.”

“Did the wise hat tell you that,” she said, teasing him a bit.

“Yep.  You know, it did always annoy me how they sort us into these houses and then want us to have unity after they just split us up against each other.  I mean, how can they sort us when we’re eleven?  Most of us didn’t even know who we were then.”

“So, it was all Gryffindor’s fault,” Ginny concluded, smiling.

“Well, perhaps his optimism that it’d work.”

“Ah-ha!  Another one—who says Gryffindor was always an optimist?”

Damon just shrugged, not knowing too much about Gryffindor, and quite confounded by the topic.

“Yeah, I suppose if I didn’t have all my older brothers, I would’ve ended up in a different house.”

“Why’s that?”

“I have six older brothers and they were all in Gryffindor.  The hat gave me a choice between two, and obviously I chose Gryffindor.  I’m sure my family would have gone bonkers if I was in a different house.”

“Wow, you must have had a fun childhood with that many older brothers.  I have two older brothers, but six, that’s a lot.”

“Yeah, it was definitely crazy at our house.”

“I could imagine.  Especially with the twins.”

“You know Fred and George?”

“Yeah, I think everyone knows them now.  Don’t forget that you’re famous now.  Old ladies in Canada probably know the names of your whole family.”

“Oh Merlin, don’t bring that up.  The thought is really freaky.  But I’m sure the twins will be glad to know of their notoriety.”

“They made sure of that last year.  I think Filch’s banning of Weasley Wizard Weazies only increased their popularity ten-fold.”

“After seeing their store, you can see why Ron and I stuck together.  Those two were horrible.”  Ginny paused.  “Did the hat give you any choices?”

“It did.  It wanted to put me in Gryffindor actually.  My brothers had always said nice things about the house, but they did instil the whole ‘following rules’ generalisation.  Amazing how small things like that could have changed our whole schooling career.  Anyway, I think I would’ve chosen Hufflepuff just to be with my brothers.”

“When did they graduate, or is one of them still here?  I don’t think I recall any other Wellses though.”

“ Yeah, the last graduated last year.  Gab and Richard—they’re only a year apart.  They’re both in the Department of Mysteries now; so really, I have no idea what they do.”

“I was there once—cool place.”

“What?!” he said too loudly.  Ginny hushed him, hearing footsteps again.  The dungeon door remained closed as the footfalls passed.  Ginny sighed in relief.

“Two years ago there was a battle at the Ministry.”

“The one where the utter fool named Fudge finally announced Voldemort’s return afterwards, you mean.”

“You said his name.”

“The exception remember,” Damon grinned, and Ginny couldn’t help but do so as well.  “And?”

“That was the time.  We were in the Department of Mysteries searching for a prophecy before Voldemort could get it.”  News of the prophecy was known, but not too widely since now with the war being over, so she felt like she could trust him.  “The prophecies were in these little orbs that spanned the whole wall.”

“I saw some really weird stuff there.  And I’m not sure if I should go into it since it is a ‘mystery’ for a reason.”

“Okay, I can see the logic in that.  But one question.”

“Sure.”

“Gab once said, ‘when a door is closed, moor doors are open to you.’  It’s a great quote and all, but he winked and it’s been bugging me ever since, like he was trying to clue me into a secret.”

“Tricky brother you got there.  They must love rubbing it in.  But in the Department, it’s really strange; there are layers of three doors that you have to choose from to get to the centre.  It took us a long time to get pass all the doors, because you get through one and there’d be three more doors to choose from.  No windows though.”

They lapsed into silence and Ginny watched Damon, seeing the roguish grin on his face.  Ginny figured that for once, he could do the brotherly teasing.  Ginny yawned; it had been a long day.  She mumbled a spell that displayed the time on her desk—this particularly came in handy during classes, although, time seemed to go faster without the time watching.  Which was the case as she saw the time.  Time had passed amazingly quickly seeing as it was already past the two hours.

“Damon, we’re off!”

“I’m surprised that Snape didn’t come back to hex us or something.”

Ginny jumped out of her seat and dragged Damon to the door, “We need to get out of here, it’s freezing.”  Ginny felt the goosebumps spread up her arms, and grabbed Damon’s warm arm more tightly while walking up the staircases.  Ginny was surprised when he stopped her, and rubbed his hands up and down her arms, trying to warm her goosebumps away.  Ginny, at his touch, blushed, and was instantly warmer.  She took Damon’s arm, entwining it back into hers and they continued up.

“Thanks, Damon.  Those dungeons are always so cold.  I don’t know how Snape stands it.”

“Well, I heard slime likes cold places to live.”  Ginny smiled at his banter and tried to steer him unaware into the trick step.  He saw her actions right at the last moment, but didn’t have time to move; he was stuck in the step.

Ginny smiled mischievously.

Damon laughed, “You’re evil; are you sure that the other choice the hat gave you wasn’t Slytherin?”

“Maybe it was.”

Ginny took hold of his hands, pulling him out.  They had made their way up to the Fat Lady and Ginny realised that Damon had been leading the way.  “Hey, how do you know where our tower is?”

“Oh, and you don’t know where the Hufflepuff common room is?”

“True.  Well, good night.  I had fun, which was weird for a Snape detention.”

“Me, too.  Good luck on the pitch in a few days.”  Damon smiled playfully, “You’ll need it.”

Ginny scoffed in reply, rolling her eyes.

“Catch you later” he said with his smile still apparent, while leaving for his own cellar, leaving Ginny to think about their upcoming Quidditch match against Hufflepuff.

-=-=-

The next morning dawned bright and early, the sun not high enough to see on the Great Hall ceiling, but the rays of cascading colours were brilliant.  Minerva, Filius and Poppy were there early, before any of the students.  Their early meetings had become a ritual; trying to decipher Harry and Ginny’s relationship during the morning breakfast, to see if there had been any progress.

Filius could tell the other two exactly what would happen:  Harry and Ginny would come in, Hermione and Ron usually behind them; they would sit down closer to the back end of the Hall where all the sixth- and seventh-years generally sat, they would survey the few food choices and pick the same thing—Ginny had fruit, toast or porridge, and orange juice; Harry had eggs, toast, kippers, a few grapes, and pumpkin juice—all four would talk about Merlin-knows-what, and there would be the smiles, laughter and friendly banter between Harry and Ginny.

This morning was no different.

“Oh, look, here comes Severus,” Poppy said, a light in her eyes.  She was much too excited at his approach for the taste of the other two staff members.

“Poppy, we’re supposed to be watching Harry and Ginny, not your ‘fetish’” a disgusted look was on Minerva’s face.

Poppy watched as Severus strutted (for someone who didn’t like strutting, he sure did it a lot himself) down the Hall and took his seat alone.  He was always alone, and this merely attracted Poppy further.  She wanted to help him, to be his heroine.  He looked over at her and the others, but today he had a different look about him.  He looked pompous, proud, as if he’d just won a long race and wanted to rub it in the losers’ faces.

“He looks searingly sexy today; that look on his face.”

“Poppy, do you not listen?”

Filius also cringed at Pomfrey’s statement, wishing to himself that she’d keep her comments to herself and grateful that Minerva was dealing with her.

Pomfrey pouted as went about ignoring her food and watching Snape.  Minerva gave her a disgusted look and turned to the other side, talking with Filius, “I would think that something, anything, would have happened with the pair.  Especially since our last actions.  I’ve tried to be patient but it’s already been a month since then and nothing.”

“We’ve tried a lot of things, Minny.  I’m not sure if we could rush this.  Can love be rushed anyways?”

“I guess not.”

“We don’t want to be too forceful—it might end up driving them away in the end.  I mean, I couldn’t believe you came up with that idea for them to spend the night together.”  Filius gave her a sly grin.  “You know teenagers; I’m surprised they didn’t jump each other.”

“Lower your voice, Filly,” she smirked, and she continued in a very lower whisper, “That was the point, Filius dear.”

Before Filius could admonish her bad behaviour, especially since she was their House Head, they heard Ginny’s voice.  They’d gotten accustomed to recognizing Harry and Ginny’s voice from observing them day after day.

“Damon!  G’Morning” Ginny waved to the sixth-year who’d just entered.

As he passed the Gryffindor table, he waved back, “Morning, Ginny, see you second period.”

“This isn’t good.”

“Oh…!”

“What now, Poppy?”

“Severus’ attitude this morning.  He looks like he’s won a television set for his quarters.”

“So you think he’s involved with trying to sway Ginny to a different man?”  Filius said, catching on.

Minerva, Poppy and Filius all turned their heads towards Severus to confirm their hypothesis.  He looked back at them with an evil smile, about to cackle with glee at any moment.

“This is not good,” Minerva echoed Filius’ earlier assessment.

“If he can accomplish that in one day, we’re screwed,” Filius continued ineloquently.

“But he does look smashing today.”

Minerva looked at Poppy hard, turning very serious, “Poppy, it’s only a dance.”

Poppy lost her bubbly demeanour, finally getting serious.  “I know it’s only a dance.  I know that I’ve hung onto the love for a long time and that Severus will never feel the same, but the thought of not Severus-obsessing is even worse.”

“If only the broom closet would’ve worked, eh?” Minerva smiled, trying to put levity back into the discussion.  It was strange seeing Poppy act so serious.

“You two keep on referring to that,” noted Filius, “You need to share the story.  I think I’ve been patient enough.”

Minerva turned to Poppy, implying that she could tell it if she wished.

“It was my seventh year.  I was in Hufflepuff and Severus was Slytherin, of course.  All of my friends thought I was bonkers, much like Minny.  I had been obsessing over him since my second year.  He was always quiet.  I wanted to be the one privileged to see what was hidden.  So, I came up with ‘Operation Broom Closet.’  The plan was to throw him in and have my way with him, oh, and some talking first though.”

She looked towards Minerva, wanting her to finish the story, “Okay,” Minerva started, obviously amused at her part in the story, “So that was when I opened the door and busted them.  I guess the talking part was already over because they were—er…rolling about.”

“Ouch,” commented Filius, “that must’ve been embarrassing.”

“It was,” confirmed Poppy and Minerva at the same time.

“So after that Severus started ignoring me.  He still does.”

There was a distinct silence in the group.

“Don’t worry, Poppy, we’ll get you that dance.”

“Yeah, and after that—who knows?”

-=-=-

Harry breathed in and out, mentally and physically preparing himself for the Quidditch match.  This was the big match of the year, which would decide the houses competing for the Quidditch Cup.  Normally the Slytherin/Gryffindor game was the eventful game of the year, but since Draco (and his monetary aid) and his cronies were far away and forgotten, the team was much more reasonable and in effect, not as successful since they now played by the rules—for the most part.

Harry heard Ginny right behind him springing up and down on her feet, pumping herself up to her fullest.  Ron was standing next to Harry looking cool and calm with a tight grip on his broom.  He looked over at Harry and back at the other players, before opening the door separating them from the pitch, and then flew out with Colin Creevey, the announcer, broadcasting all their names.

“For the Gryffindor team: R. Weasley, Potter, G. Weasley, MacDonald, Creevey, Sloper and Garrison!”

Harry took flight right after Ron, enjoying the wind pushing his face as he rose higher into the air.  A few seconds later, his whole team was hovering close to him except Ron who was closer to the ground.

“…Brandstone, Cauldwell, Wells, Summers, and Summerby!”

Ron went down to the centre of the pitch, meeting Damon Wells with Madam Hooch between them.

“I expect this to be a clean match, boys.”  She demanded over the cheers and rumble of the crowd gathered.  She gestured for them to step forwards, which they did shaking each other’s hand, Ron looking at Damon with narrow eyes.  He hadn’t been partial to the new development between Damon and his sister, so he made sure to clearly show it through his grip.

They stepped apart; Madam Hooch blew her whistle letting the balls zoom out of control above their heads.

“And they’re off.  G. Weasley with the Quaffle, soaring—passed to Creevey, a drop to MacDonald, Wells swerves in, MacDonald dodges, throws up to Ginny, she’s approaching. Ahhh…Bludger, she veers, tries to get, off…no.  Wells in possession darting down the field, pass to Cauldwell, Brandstone, back to Cauldwell—wonderful chasing skills—back to Wells, chucked far off to Brandstone, in a weird position to shot from—oh, back to Wells, right, oh!  Hufflepuff scores the first goal of the match.  Ten-nil to Hufflepuff.

Harry listened to the commentating with Colin trying to keep up with the players, and the cheers around half of the stadium.  The crowd was infused with spirit, and the bright red Gryffindor sections were jumping up and down in encouragement.  He searched the pitch, focusing on closer objects, behind players, and then looking wide, squinting his eyes to find a glint in the madness.

“—dodges Summerby, he was coming straight at her.  Free quaffle—Wells picks up.  G. Weasley looking feisty—Wells still in possession, G. Weasley gaining, along side now.  He must not see her because…OH! Smashing steal by G. Weasley, literally—Wells looking shocked jolted from his broom, but look at Ginny go!”

Harry glanced down, deciding to look for the snitch around Ginny.  She was flying magnificently, her hair in a ponytail whipping behind her. 

“MacDonald and Creevey well behind her.  G. Weasley streaking down the middle, almost to the hoops—faked left, no actually right, catches Keeper off guard—and yes!  All tied up!”

Harry whooped and then looked behind him seeing the Hufflepuff seeker, Madley, darting back and forth, making her round to find the snitch.  Harry scoffed.  He knew that she’d get too tired to fly soon, and that she’s wasting her energy, but at least she wasn’t tailing him like so many others before were accustomed to.  Harry flew by her, getting her attention, wanting to try out his Feint.  He flew as usual and then zoomed off to the other direction of the pitch, Madley following behind.

“—another steal by G. Weasley, she’s got the hot hand tonight!  Wells chasing after her, on her tail—wow, he ploughed right into her.  That should be a foul!”  Colin looked to Madam Hooch, seeing there was going to be no call.  “G. Weasley back on track, pushing back—oh!  Potter has seen the snitch—Madley in pursuit—Potter’s diving!  He’s almost—wow, what a Feint!  Madley following the whole time nearly crashed into the ground.”

Harry smiled back at the girl who looked furious.

“Wells now in control, leading the formation—to Cauldwell, back to Wells.  Oh he dropped it!  Brandstone scooping it up swiftly.  Great play.  Brandstone ready…and it’s blocked by R. Weasley, passed to Creevey!  G. Weasley in good position.”

Harry saw a glint out of the corner of his eye, started to dart in that direction but saw a Bludger pass by him heading towards Ginny.

“Ginny has the Quaffle—Wells and Potter moving straight at her?  What the hell?”  Professor McGonagall was about to reprimand Colin when she saw Harry racing to Ginny, trying to block the Bludger that was heading straight towards her.  Damon was doing the same.  She searched for Severus in the crowd quickly, seeing he was crazily grinning.  Furiously, she hurriedly turned back.

“Weasley flies straight up—Wells and Potter nearly missing each other, the Bludger now far from the scene.  They look very confused, and to be perfectly honest, I am as well.”

Harry pulled up higher, panting, his heart pumping in his chest with worry.  “What the hell was Damon pulling?” he said to himself, out of breath.  He noted Madley on the opposite side of the pitch.  And just as he did, he saw another glint, this one much more bright.  It was much closer to Madley than he.  He went around, not taking his eyes off the snitch, but making sure to be inconspicuous.  He was ten yards from the snitch when he broke out in full speed, Madley catching on quickly.

“Potter’s really seen it this time, look at him go!  Oh! Another score by Ginny! Fifty-forty to Gryffindor.  Potter’s in reach, Madley not even close to catching up.  Nothing can beat that firebolt.  And…and—Potter’s got it!”

Deafening cheers met Harry’s ears as he grasped the fluttering snitch tighter.  Harry tried to find Ginny in the big mass of Gryffindors running out onto the field.  She was still on her broom, looking straight at him smiling.

From out of nowhere, the same Bludger was back, nearing Ginny again at its usual high speeds.  Harry dove down towards her, yelling for her to swerve.  Her smile turned into confusion followed by shock with Harry, the Bludger and now Damon all diving for her.  Ginny turned sharply up again, this time much faster avoiding all three.  The Bludger suddenly turned, catching Harry and Damon unaware, unfortunately running into Damon’s shoulder and then zoomed off into the distance.  Damon almost fell from his broom, but managed to stay on.  Harry called for Madam Pomfrey and Damon was soon being taken to the Hospital Wing.

Harry and Ginny landed, following them.   

“What was he thinking?” Harry said in rage.

“What was he thinking, more like what were you thinking?”  The pair stopped, their faces already flushed from the match.

“Me.  Easy.  I was trying to save you from some cracked bones.”

“I can take care of myself, Harry.  I lost the Bludger, you saw.  There was no need for you two to be so, so…”

“So, what?  So worried or so concerned, which is it?  Because that’s what was going through my mind.  Damon’s a damn lunatic though.”

“Yeah, a lunatic that was apparently worried and concerned too.”

“Well, he shouldn’t be.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Nothing.  I didn’t mean anything by it.” Harry sighed, looking defeated.

Harry continued walking, Ginny right beside.  “You still shouldn’t have done that,” mumbled Ginny.

“You don’t give up do you?” Harry said, grinning back, trying to diffuse the atmosphere.  Ginny gave him a teasing shove, as she entered the infirmary to see Madam Pomfrey hovering around Damon.

“Is he alright?” Ginny asked, hoping that the Bludger hadn’t caused too much damage.

“A broken collar bone, but I already mended it.”  She turned back to Damon, “It’s going to be tender for about three days.  No Quidditch or activity until it’s better.  And you are to stay here until dinner to rest.”

She turned back to Harry and Ginny, along with the Hufflepuffs and few others that had followed, “Five minutes is all.”

Harry dragged Ginny out after her saying a quick “thank you.”  He could have sworn he saw Madam Pomfrey looking at Damon with daggers and reasoned with himself that he was merely exhausted from the match.

-=-=-

A month hastened quickly by, and by late March, Harry, Hermione and Ron were making their rounds at the stores of Hogsmeade.  The sky was clear, and the plants and animals started coming alive again in the warmer weather.  The birds were chirping.  Hermione and Ron were holding hands, hell, everyone was holding hands with someone.  Except Harry, and he was not in a very good mood today.  It hadn’t been a good month, actually.

Before he had had a hard enough time battling his feelings, but now with Damon hanging around Ginny all the time since the match, he felt possessive but had no reason to be in everyone else’s eyes, so it was yet another thing he had to hide.  He threw himself into revision for his N.E.W.T.s, and no one suspected him, since all the other seventh-years were doing the same.  He still had problems with listening in class, but he managed.  His brain was fried, frazzled and lost. 

But mostly he was just scared of his heart.  His brain, he liked—he could control that.  It was his heart he worried about—it never listened.

When N.E.W.T. revision wasn’t taking up his time, research for the “MISSION: eradicate media” did.  Before, he had let Hermione handle most of it, knowing if anyone could figure out a solution, she could.  However, two weeks ago The Daily Prophet had had a front-page article on Ginny and Damon’s romantic relationship.

Harry had seen red when he saw the picture: it was the pair of them, Damon almost hugging Ginny, his hands caressing her arms.  Damon had a look of caring on his face, while Ginny blushed.  It was Ginny’s blushing that really set him off, though—he’d thought that her blush was meant for him and not some “fake, smooth-talking git.”  Hermione tried to calm him down, and he was glad for it, since he had been about to go hex everyone’s heads off.  Ron had looked on, confused. 

When Ginny entered late for breakfast, a hush went through the Hall, every student (and four professors) watching her as she took her seat.  Ginny flipped when she saw the article.  She kept on eyeing Harry, between cursing all reporters.  Harry didn’t say anything until Ginny told them that she needed to find Damon to explain.  Only then did he swear to help Hermione more on research.

It had been a rocky few weeks.

“Let’s go visit the twins next,” suggested Harry.  He figured that if anyone could lift his spirits, they could.

Ron was able to extricate Hermione from the dusty bookstore after another ten minutes, and they made their way to the bright, multicoloured shop.  It was bedlam inside, with the students scavenging through their favourite products.

Fred and George, upon seeing them, pulled the trio into the back room, letting Lee take over up front.

The back wasn’t as brightly coloured, but there were candies, bits of crumpled paper and experiments everywhere.  There were desks off to the side, littered with papers, but the twins sat on two maroon loveseats.  The three others followed, Harry taking a chair, and Ron sharing one with Hermione, while looking at the colour choice in disgust.

“What, my dear brother, do you not like our new chairs?” asked George.

“You could say that.”

Both twins turned their heads to Harry at the same time, which he thought was very unnerving.

“Hey, Harry, you need to try out our new invention the next time you see Ginny.”  Fred threw a red-wrapped candy to him, Harry reflexively catching it.

“Yeah, right.  What do you take me for?”  Just as he said that, the candy jumped out of his hand, unwrapped, and went flying straight towards his mouth.  He tried to clamp down his mouth at the impending intrusion, but the candy still made its way into Harry’s stomach.  Harry was about to yell at the twins.

“Harry, how do you feel about Ginny Weasley?” asked Fred.

Harry started speaking in a long stream of words, not in control of his mouth, his brow creased in worry: “I love Ginny Weasley.  She can constantly put a smile on my face.  She’s full of life, fun, intelligent, and I’d spend every day of my life with her.  I feel lost without her, but I feel so frightened by this that I can’t tell her.  I was to take her in m…”

He snapped his mouth shut, insanely grateful that the charm had died.  He bent over, leaning on his knees, and stared at the floor, too embarrassed to face the others.

He couldn’t believe the twins would pull something like that.  It was in their nature to prank and all, but he would have thought they’d have some consideration.  He felt deflated and had no idea what to say or do. 

The twins had been smiling merrily until he broke out of it—now they were worried.

“Look, Harry, we’re sorry.”

“We didn’t think.  Are you alright?” George asked.

A few moments went by before he responded.  “Yeah,” he said weakly, but continued, “Yeah, it’s just hard to hear those things.”

“Why, Harry?” asked Hermione softly.  Hermione thought she knew the answer to it, but wondered what he would say.

“I don’t know.  Like I said, I’m scared that I can feel that way.  After always wanting to be loved by the Dursleys,” Hermione and Ron each gave him a hard look, telling him with their eyes that the Dursleys didn’t even deserve to love him.  He continued, “And them never even liking me, well, I’m just afraid that someone could love me and that I can feel the same way.  I’m just…I don’t know.  But see, she doesn’t even love me anyway, so why are we talking about this?”

Hermione looked, unbelieving, at Harry, trying to contain the voice in her head telling her to inform him exactly how Ginny did feel.

The twins got up, Fred pulling Harry out of his seat, and each gave him a quick masculine hug.

“We’re sorry again but just in case something happens –”

“Take care of our Ginny.  And so help us, if you ever hurt her—”

“—We’ll personally come after you.”  Fred ended this time.

Harry was really edgy with Ginny’s identical, well-built brothers threatening to do him in.  He knew they could, too, with their inventions alone.  He figured he probably wouldn’t have to worry about it anyways.  “Yeah, guys, don’t worry.”

Ron and Hermione stood up, joining the group, Ron moving to stand right in front of Harry.  Harry thought he was going to have to endure another death threat, but Ron pulled him into a hug, “If Ginny can’t see what’s in front of her, mate, she doesn’t deserve you.  But I have a feeling it might work out.”

Hermione, proud of Ron, grabbed his hand and held it tightly; he smiled down at her.

“Hermione, any recent news on the MISSION?”

Hermione knew what Harry was thinking about, and it was probably Damon.  He only thought about the media project when he was thinking about what might actually be going on with the pair of them.  “This morning Ginny and I found this potion that’ll work, but we need to change it, substitute a few ingredients, so it should be ready to brew as soon as we figure that out.”

“Good, I’ll help you out tomorrow on that.”

-=-=-

Ginny was in the castle, in the Gryffindor common room, sitting at a desk with her Charms and Transfiguration textbooks and papers spread everywhere.  She had a Charms test the next Monday and a three-foot Transfiguration essay due the day after that on the dangers of switching spells when changing a live object to an inanimate object.

She was tempted to shove it all in her knapsack and catch up with the others, but she knew she had far too much work to even think of having fun.  Harry and Ron had tried their hardest to pry her away from her studies; with all the techniques they had learned from doing the same with Hermione, they were extremely good at it.  Their last attempt was to point out that if Hermione could spare time, than she definitely could.  In the end, Hermione dragged the boys out.  Ginny watched Harry leave, really wishing that she could ditch her studies, but she’d done that too often lately.

This past month, Harry had really confused her. Her current friendship with Damon was becoming serious.  When the article about her and Damon was published, Harry seemed very distant with her; he even seemed, perhaps, a little jealous when she thought about it.  But the next second she wrote that impression off; it was just her imagination playing games with her again.  It had done that a lot recently.  With Damon, on the other hand, she knew she wasn’t imagining it.  They had started doing homework together.  Damon was good at Potions and Transfiguration but was horrible at Charms, so Ginny was able to help him, and he, her.  On a few occasions, he’d suggested the possibility of becoming more than just friends, but Ginny had dodged the question each time, saying that she had to think about it.

Starting a relationship with Damon felt too weird to Ginny.  She wondered if she really did like Damon, or if she was transferring her feelings for Harry onto Damon, since Damon reminded her so much of Harry.  She tried convincing herself it was the first, but she wasn’t sure.  In her heart, she felt as though it was more the latter case, because in previous years she had had classes with Damon, but never knew anything about him except that he was captivating.  It was almost like, if she couldn’t have Harry, then Damon was her second choice; she couldn’t feel right about starting a relationship knowing this, because it didn’t feel fair to Damon.

She often talked to Sarah about this, but Sarah’s conclusion was that all Ginny needed was a man—any man.  Ginny had laughed at that, but silently thought her wrong.  Her feelings for Harry were so strong; she tried to push them away, to forget about them, to get over them, but they never diminished, and this scared her.  She often wondered if she’d ever get over Harry.  She knew she couldn’t hold onto Harry her whole life.  Maybe Damon was a way to finally let Harry go.

Ginny looked down at her parchment to see two inches taken up by her name, the title, and her first sentence.  She groaned; she loathed essays.  It was tedious work to read through the sections in her textbook, trying to make her essay long enough.  She was very tempted to start writing in a more loopy style, or start all over, copying what she had done, only in larger handwriting, but decided not to do so, given that Professor McGonagall would mark her down for any such changes.

Ginny was three inches from finishing the essay when Harry came into the common room with a worried frown on his face.  As soon as he looked up, seeing Ginny, he smiled, making his way over to her.  Before he could say anything she asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing important.  Are you almost done there?”

“Almost.”

Harry waved his wand, muttering, making her Charms materials, which she wasn’t using, gather into neat stacks and zoom into her knapsack.  “Okay, finish that off, and we’ll go flying.”

Ginny smiled at how Harry always referred to Quidditch as flying.  He’d started that after he was first successful at flying long distances in his owl form.  Every time he said it, though, she got the image of herself leaping off a high cliff and not being able to fly.  Of course, she wouldn’t think about the actual falling into the depths below, only the comedic image of herself flapping her arms, as if she thought she could fly.

She turned her attention back to her paper, finishing off the essay very quickly.

Just then, Harry came bounding down the staircase with both their brooms in hand.  He cleaned up the rest of her belongings, the papers and books zooming first into her knapsack; then it zoomed up the staircase, and, she reckoned, into her room.

“That better be going to my room, Potter.”

Harry gave her a teasing hurt look.  “Race you to the QP!”

Harry was off running towards the portrait hole, while Ginny was still seated.  She took up her wand, and magically tripped Harry as he tried to get out of the common room.  Ginny laughed, grabbing her broom that Harry had thrown onto the couch, and ran after him.

He had managed to stay ahead of her the whole time, not slowing his speed, knowing that if he let his guard down, she’d take advantage of his doing so.  He neared the Quidditch pitch and stopped, looking over the green grass, the flags whipping in the wind. 

Ginny had been running so fast that Harry’s abrupt stop caught her off guard; as she tried to stop quickly, she skidded on the soft grass, bumping into Harry and taking him down with her.  They landed with a thud, Harry with a wry smile, very much liking their current situation.

“Guess you caught me.”  But before Ginny could respond, he’d somehow flown out from under her, hardly disturbing her, until she noticed that it was the ground now below her instead of Harry.

She looked up in the sky to see Harry climbing upward at a great speed; she joined him, only a few seconds behind.

-=-=-

Severus was in his office, irritated, thumping his foot on the cold dungeon floor, the sound echoing through the small room.  Argus was there for their occasional meeting.  They never met regularly, and it was never in the same spot.  Severus wanted to make sure that no one was on to him, unlike the other side; he thought they were extremely careless, especially since Argus had overheard them a few times. If Argus was able to be useful…Great Merlin.

Now, however, Severus was thinking about new plans, something better than what he’d done so far, because two days ago, he had seen something he did not like.

“Argus, do you know what I saw two days ago?” Severus said, trying to speak slowly for the other man, but actually just sounding greasy.

“Er, Mrs Norris with a stray cat?  I’ve’r been wondering about that, too.”

“No.” Severus tried to rescue his mind from the explicit images formulating in it.  “I saw Potter and Weasley.  On the Quidditch pitch.  On each other.  Smiling.” He uttered the last word as if it burnt his tongue.

Severus thought of all the actions he’d taken lately in order to pull Harry and Ginny apart; by all logic, it should have already wrecked the two.  First, the detention he’d given Ginny and Damon: they looked like they were about to jump each other; he’d thought that he’d gotten lucky and that no further action would be necessary.  Second, he thought that Damon taking the Bludger for Ginny would cause them to spend more time together, but that had been for naught, but at least no one had suspected him except Minerva, but he assumed that the others had convinced her she was being unreasonable. Two weeks with still no developments proved that he needed to send a certain anonymous letter to The Daily Prophet with a picture.  Now that should have made Harry angry enough to hex the pair.  He wracked his brain for different, more inventive ways, something to really show the other staff up.

“Ahem.” Argus interrupted his thoughts.

“Yes.”

“I overheard a piece of information.”

“What is it?” Severus said, trying to be kind to the fellow, who liked to have a response to every little thing he said.

“I found out who you’ll be dancing with if we lose.”

“We won’t lose.  Continue.”

“Poppy Pomfrey—she, I guess, is quite excited about it, too.” Argus had a weird look on his face, something between disgust and amusement.

“Anything further?”

Argus shook his head dumbly.

“I’ll inform you if I come up with any other action.” Severus still hadn’t told Argus about the detention or the article, and it was better that he didn’t know.  He’d probably go tell his annoying cat and the whole castle would hear him.  Argus still hadn’t left, of course.  “Good-bye, Argus.”

He wandered out the door, muttering to himself.  Severus wished he could chuck the fellow, but he did provide useful information, so he tolerated him.

Now he had another problem to worry about.  Poppy.  Severus wondered how she got caught up in all of this, but he pinned that responsibility on Minerva and her meddling.  She was the one who had found them out the first time, and now she’s trying to get a reunion of sorts?  He couldn’t believe that he might have to endure a dance with Poppy.  For all he was concerned, the woman didn’t even exist.  Severus thought he had had enough embarrassment for one lifetime.  He would always stay clear of the Hospital Wing if at all possible.  That closet a little ways down the hall, he intended never to set eyes on again.  

Now, concerning the bet…he had to do something to ensure he’d win.  He stood up quickly and went into his back workroom to brew up one last plan.

-=-=-

A week later, dinnertime, in the Great Hall four of the professors were on edge.  Dumbledore was announcing the Celebration Ball that night.  They all waited patiently at the front table, knowing that Dumbledore was going to wait until nearly all of the school was present.  The students came in waves, taking their seats.  The ceiling in the room was just beginning to get slightly darker as the sun went down outside, which cast a multitude of colours across the darkening sky.  A few of the candles lit, bringing more light into the room, and the first star could be seen in the clear night sky.

Minerva, being more aware of the students—two in particular—kept looking from the pair, to Severus, and then back.  Today Severus was acting strange; not that he didn’t always, but he had a particular gleam in his eye and although he normally refused to pay attention to Harry and Ginny during meals, today he was watching them and their actions intently.

Dumbledore stood, clinking his goblet loudly.

“Attention, everybody.”  As he said this, the students left off talking and laughing.  “I have an announcement before we all tuck in.  In a month, May 24th, we will be having the first annual Celebration Ball in honour of the end of the second war.”

A rush of excited female voices went through the Hall, while the boys mostly sighed over the stress a Ball would bring.

Dumbledore looked around the room in amusement and continued, “It will be similar to the Yule Ball we had three years ago, in that fourth years and up are invited to attend, and the lower years are permitted to come if they are the partner to an older student.”  Dumbledore nodded to indicate the end of his announcement and sat back down, while the voices in the Hall were twice as loud as before the announcement.

Minerva looked back at Severus to see him staring at her with a look of pure delight on his face, which was sporting a malevolent smile.  She turned back to the others, getting Filius and Poppy’s immediate attention, “Why does Severus look so happy?  His smile is frightening.”

Poppy looked to Severus, who was now back to watching Harry.  Poppy sighed, figuring she’d have to tell the others.  “I know why.  Severus thinks he is dosing Harry with a love potion.”

“WHAT?!” said Minerva, outraged.  All of the professors turned their heads at the sudden outburst, but most of the students didn’t hear because they were too wrapped up in talking of what they were going to wear or whom they wanted to ask.

“Minny, and you tell me to contain myself?”  Poppy smiled at her, while Minny just glared back, her gaze demanding a further explanation.  “I said ‘thinks’—he thinks that Harry is drinking a love potion.  I was down in the kitchens getting some chocolate to restore my supply for the Dementors, and…”

“But wait,” Filius cut in, “The Dementors were destroyed when Voldemort died.  Why would you need to refill?”

Poppy looked like a child getting her hand stuck in a cookie jar.  “I just need the chocolate sometimes, now do you want to hear the story or not?”  When neither commented, she continued, “I was getting some chunks from Winky when I heard someone enter.  They were around the corner from me, talking to an elf named Dolly, or something.”

“Wait, Dobby?”

“Yeah, Dobby.  Well, Severus seemed to know this elf and gave him orders to put the potion in Harry’s goblet today at dinner.  Severus quickly left after that, and Dobby turned the corner mumbling to himself about bad wizards.  It was clear he was about to trash the potion, but I got it from him beforehand, just in case.”

“Wow, I never thought he’d go so low,” commented Minerva.

“I know, we’re going to have to keep an eye on him, because I’m sure when he notices the potion not working, he’ll go further.”

“I’ll keep an eye out—I already do most of the time, anyway.” Poppy offered.

-=-=-

It had been three days since the big announcement of the Ball.  Harry, Ginny, Hermione and Ron were all in the Gryffindor common room studying for classes and for the impending N.E.W.T.s.  The common room was crowded on the Friday night; however, the majority wasn’t working.  Since the castle found out about the Ball, the professors had a difficult time of getting the students to concentrate on their studies.

Harry was already getting tired of the madness.  He couldn’t even walk the halls in peace without groups of girls watching him, their giggles trailing behind him.  He thought that whomever had invented giggling deserved a swift hex.  He looked on the bright side, though; Ginny also loathed the “giggling buffoons,” as she put it.

Harry had already been asked to the Ball by three girls: a gutsy second-year from Slytherin; Parvati Patil, wanting to make it “a tradition;” and Marietta Edgecombe, for Merlin-knows-what reason.  He had kindly declined them all, saying he wasn’t sure if he was dancing, or even attending.  And it was the truth.  He knew Dumbledore would have him lead the first dance or perform some other action to spotlight him.  He would rather that the Ball honour the people who fought and died at the hands of Voldemort and his followers than some misplaced hero-worship, because, really, that’s what happened to him, and to his five closest friends, although on a lesser scale.

“I can’t stand this nonsense,” said Ginny, glaring across at the other Gryffindors in the room.

Harry, thinking the same thing, suggested, “Wanna go to the Room of Requirement?”

The room had been available to everyone in the castle, but as it became popular because of the DA, students had started to take advantage of the room’s uses.  Dumbledore was forced to put a password on it.  Harry, being the head of the DA, received the password, which he had only told to Ginny, Hermione and Ron.  It often made the perfect studying area for them.

“Hermione, Ron, coming with us?”

“No, you go ahead, I gotta talk to Hermione about something.”  Hermione arched her eyebrow at Ron.

“Okay, have fun with that,” said Ginny, while quickly packing up her textbooks and papers.

Harry and Ginny made their way down the staircases, Ginny ribbing Harry the whole way.  She was trying to distract him near the trick step.  She almost got him, but he out-manoeuvred her at the last second.  She’d been trying to trick him unsuccessfully now for the past two years.

“You’re never going to get me.  That might work on someone who doesn’t know you, but I know you far too well.”  Harry said this as they continued on their way walking to the room.

“Ginny!” A voice came down the opposite hall behind them.  When Ginny turned, she saw Damon jogging up to her.

“Hey, Ginny, could we talk?”  Ginny looked at Harry, seeing his scowl.  “Harry, you go on, I’ll be right there.”

Ginny looked back at Damon once Harry had turned the corner.  Ginny could tell that he had definitely not been happy about leaving.  “What’s on your mind?”

Damon gestured to the bench along the wall in front of a classroom.  The pair sat down and Ginny met his eyes; she had a hunch about why he wanted to talk.

“Ginny, I’ve had a lot of fun with you this past month, even in detention,” he smiled and picked up her hand, holding it in his.  “Would you go to the Ball with me?”

Ginny smiled sadly, wanting to accept but knowing she couldn’t.  “I’m sorry Damon.  I’ve had so much fun too, but my accepting wouldn’t be fair to you,” she saw Damon looking confused, so she continued, “I’ve had strong feelings for someone, for a while now…”

“Is it Harry?”

Ginny looked at him strangely, wondering how he knew, “Yeah, but it’s confusing.”

“Love tends to be.  I guess I always believed the rumours about you two.”

“What rumours?”

“Oh, er…the one saying you got over Harry in your fourth year.”

Ginny laughed, and at Damon’s confused expression, explained, “I had told Hermione that about my crush.  I guess that spread far.  I never really pinned Hermione for a gossiper.”

“You know this school—rumours spread like wildfire, especially the ones about you and your friends.”  Damon paused, changing the subject, “But Ginny, don’t hide a part of yourself.  You don’t want to lose him.”

“I know; I’ve been planning to,” she said quietly as Damon gave her a friendly hug of encouragement.  After a few moments, they both stood. 

“See you in class?”

“Yeah, we’ll have to study for the Potions exam soon.”  Ginny grinned, standing up; she was glad that Damon was such a nice bloke who could understand.  She hoped that they could continue their friendship, and it looked to her that Damon felt the same.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”  And with that he walked back to, Ginny assumed, the badgering of students in the Hufflepuff common room.

Ginny didn’t watch Damon’s retreating back as he left; instead she looked straight ahead of her.  Where Harry was currently was just down around that corner.  Damon’s departing words repeated in her head.  Those words seemed so strange of her—she never thought of losing Harry.  He was always there, like a constant, like her family always was.  But now she saw how stupid she had been before; she saw how she had wronged herself by being untruthful.

She still wondered about Harry’s true feelings.  There had been some signs, but she was too dumb to see them before, too insecure to believe it.  But she wasn’t going to do that now.  She set her shoulders, intent face, ready, almost as if going into the battlefield.  She was bursting with the urge to finally free herself, to get everything in the open, as it should have been in the first place.  It was a long time coming, and Ginny didn’t want to wake up fifty years from now and regret never telling Harry.

She took a deep breath, gathering her bravery, and twisted the doorknob while saying, “do a Weasley.”

She walked into the room, noticing that it looked the same as when they were locked in a few months ago.  It felt like that had been a long time ago.  The ceiling was the same, but a bit lighter, since it was now closer to the summer months.  Harry was sitting on the couch, just as she found him that first time.

“Harry, we need to talk.”  She sat down, waiting for him to look at her.

“Is it about Damon?” he queried.

“No, it’s about you…”

Harry went from looking at her arm to studying her face, trying to see what she meant by that.

“I should have said something a while ago about this, but I thought I’d just be troubling you with another bothersome issue.  I hid behind the assumption that it’d be better for you if I said nothing at all, because then you wouldn’t be put in an awkward position, but that doesn’t matter because the truth is always better in the long run.  And that was probably just an excuse I had to keep myself from taking an intimidating step.”  Ginny, noticing she was rambling, got to the point very quickly.

“Harry, I love you. 

“You don’t have to say anything, I don’t really expect anything back, but I needed to tell you.  For myself, I needed to tell you.  I didn’t truly know you until two years ago, and what I assumed was an infatuation turned into something much deeper that I’ve been trying to lock up.”

Ginny stopped abruptly, worried that she’d rambled on for too long.  She tried to trace Harry’s reaction, but his expression seemed a cross between shocked and petrified the whole time she was speaking.  Now it seemed more relaxed, and she didn’t know what to make of it.

“Ginny, I—this is hard for me to explain, but—I love you, too.”  Harry smiled, relieved that he had said it, but still unsure what to do about it.  And Ginny wasn’t too sure what to do about it either; it was her turn to be shocked.  Her mouth dropped open and her hands slid from their position on top of Harry’s to the couch cushions.

“What?” she asked, out of breath.  Harry was surprised by the question, because he figured that maybe the thing to do was kiss her instead of talking more.

“Er…I have strong feelings for you?”  Harry meant to state it, but Ginny’s face had turned from white to reddish by the time he finished his sentence, causing it to come out in a questioning tone of voice.

“How long?” she said, still in a shocked voice.

“About two years, maybe a little less.”  Harry was trying to be truthful, but Ginny could not believe it.

“Two years…two years…same as me, and you never said anything?”  Ginny sounded a bit regretful, realising how much time they had missed.  But then she reasoned that they hadn’t missed anything at all, because during that time they were still together, and she’d never give up their fun times. 

Harry fidgeted, and tried to explain, “I just, it took me a long time to figure out what it was, Ginny.  I’m just really lost in this all.  After the war, I was lost about what my purpose in life was; I know, you don’t have to give me that look, I finally understand now, in large part due to you.  And then we’ve been friends for so long, and I thought that was all I felt for the longest time, but I just didn’t realise…see, I never really knew what love was, truly, until I got to know you.”

Ginny softened, knowing that Harry hadn’t grown up in a loving environment; yet, she hadn’t known it had been two years.  Two years.  She was cursing herself for not speaking the truth sooner.

Then happiness soared through Ginny, and all Harry saw was a humungous smile before she toppled him over, pushing him back on the couch, so they were both lying down.  Harry, caught off guard, held her in his arms as she embraced him.    

“We’re just a pair of prats, aren’t we?”

“No, just afraid of what could be.  But we’ll do it together,” Ginny said reassuringly.

“Together,” Harry repeated, firmly agreeing.  He snuggled closer into Ginny, pushing both of them deeper into the couch to enjoy an amazing cuddle—Harry had found he quite liked cuddling—in the enchanted room.

-=-=-

It was May 24th, the day that many of the girls—and believe it or not, some of the boys—of Hogwarts were waiting for, and it had finally arrived.  The month had been a busy one, but a better one in the eyes of Harry and Ginny.  Harry had spent the majority of his time doing further revision in N.E.W.T.s, and Hermione hadn’t let up with her strict schedules for them all.  Even Ginny kept him on track, quizzing him in her free time.  Harry did the same for her, finding that it doubled as studying for N.E.W.T.s; or at least that’s what he told Hermione so that he could spend more time with his new girlfriend. 

Harry thought it magnificent that he could hold Ginny’s hand whenever he wanted.  He tried things slowly, showing his affection for her in small, simple ways.  The cloud was lifted from over his head, and he found he did much better in his classes without the extra worry.  Ginny had confessed to him that she’d not been listening in her classes either, so they made a pact to pull their academic life together in the last month they had.

On weekends, they had worked with Hermione on the “eradicate media” potion, and they were able to brew it just two weeks ago.  All six—Harry, Ginny, Hermione, Ron, Luna and Neville—took the potion, hoping to finally rid themselves of pesky reporters.  The way the potion worked was similar to how the Muggle-repelling charms worked during the World Quidditch Cup; whenever a reporter was close to information that could be used against the six, he’d be repelled from it.  This allowed them to choose what they wanted the media to know, if they ever did wish to inform the media of something.  It was a relief to them not to have to worry about that.   

But their relief was only momentary, because it then dawned on them just how close the N.E.W.T.’s were.  Only two days before the day of the Ball, they had all finished their exams.  It was a bittersweet feeling to know that the exams were over and the end of school was just around the corner.  But they were also happy that the exams were over.  Almost five months of continuous study, thanks in part to Hermione.  Harry was confident he did well, and everyone else felt the same.  Hermione would not stop discussing the exams and her answers and checking in all her books, double- and triple-checking to see if what she’d put down was right; this had been non-stop for the past two days.  They made her promise not to bring up exams or schoolwork of any sort tonight.  In return, Hermione made Harry, Ron and Ginny promise to not bring up the looming Quidditch Cup Finals that were in six day’s time—they were edgy but confident that they’d slaughter the Ravenclaws to get first place. They were ready to let loose, forgetting about fears and uncertainties.

Harry thought of the night ahead of him, and how he couldn’t wait to dance.  This was a first for him, but he had taken “dancing lessons by Ginny Weasley” during his breaks, and he noticed that he actually liked it, especially the slow dances.  He smiled, looking over at Ginny, as they were approaching the Great Hall; there were large swarms of students arriving.  She looked simply ravishing.  Her dress was a midnight blue colour that sparkled as if the stars had been transplanted onto the rich material.  Her hair was in a loose up-do, free curls falling down around the front straps of her dress, which ran down her shoulders to create a wide V, low enough to make Harry wonder if she had freckles elsewhere.  The dress clung to her midsection, fitting perfectly, and flowed out at the hips, looking like water cascading off Ginny’s curves.  Harry had a difficult time remembering to pay attention to his walking.

Waiting for all of the other students in front of them to enter and find their seats, they slowly made their way into the room, Harry and Ginny hand in hand, Ron and Hermione, Neville and Sarah, and Luna and Damon right behind them.  Just as Ginny had hoped, Damon and she were still the best of friends, and he had been intrigued later by Luna's ways; Ginny was happy for him.

The Great Hall looked magnificent with glowing orbs lighting up the quickly darkening room.  The House tables were removed, replaced by many different small tables, each with their own elaborate centrepieces.  The tables had dark purple silk coverings with exquisite dining ware. 

They finally found their table, up in the front of the room, of course; once they were settled in, talking with everyone, they ordered their meals through the menus; their entrees graced their plates moments later.  Dinner was a lovely affair, full of laughter and fun, and occasional pranks.

-=-=-

“Could Mister Potter, Miss Weasley, Mister Weasley, Miss Granger, Mister Longbottom, Miss Lovegood, and their dates please come up on stage?”

Most of the tables had been swept away once dinner was over, providing a much larger dancing floor.  Minerva knew Dumbledore was going to pinpoint those students in some way, but she had just thought they’d lead off the first dance of the night.  She watched as the group made their way up to the stage.  Once Harry was standing by Dumbledore, he told the headmaster something she couldn’t hear.  Dumbledore looked like he always did when someone changed the events on him, but recovered, explaining to the students that Harry wanted to say something briefly.

“Good evening students, Professors.  My friends and I didn’t want tonight to be about us or all of the survivors of the war but as a remembrance to all those who fought for what they believed in and lost their lives in doing so.  It is to them we owe our lives.  Before we kick off the dancing madness—and believe me, once you see the DJs, you’ll understand what I mean—but we want to start a donation fund for a memorial for all those who we’ll always remember.  This barrel will be up here tonight until the end of this school year, so if you could donate any knuts or sickles, it’ll be a great help.”  Harry stopped, looked behind him, and turned back to smile at the crowd.  Minerva figured it had something to do with the Wildfire Whiz-bangs that started going off around the room a second later.

The Weasley twins ran out on stage, bowling over people as they went, sending vanishing charms into the room, which made the wizard fireworks ten times their normal size.  They immediately cranked up the music, officially starting the party.  The students started dancing straight off, getting used to the twin’s first exotic song selection. 

After the first song, they chucked a bunch of candies out to the crowd telling them to eat it.  Of course, most responded negatively and were all shocked when the candies decided to take actions into their own hands.  Harry had noticed the candy straight away and threw it back on stage quickly as if it burnt his hand.  Ginny looked at Harry strangely.  Each student who had refused now found themselves either changing colours, turning into ferrets, floating two feet off the ground or spinning uncontrollably for a small amount of time before turning back to normal.

The twins continued doing this between songs, throwing a wide array of new products to the students (and Dumbledore occasionally).

Minerva turned her attention back to her fellow professors, leaning in, getting the attention of Filius and Poppy, who inclined their heads closer knowing that they could swoop down on Severus at any moment.  “When are we going to do it?”

Poppy looked so excited she was about to wet her knickers.

“We should wait a few songs, make sure that everyone is here and watching,” said Filius sensibly.

“Okay, sounds great!”  Poppy squeaked in her anticipation, rubbing her hands together maniacally.  Minerva grinned evilly, knowing this was going to be sweet revenge.

“I’m going to go talk to him for a bit, and then you guys come over and pop it on him, then bam!  I’ll sweep him away in front of everyone.”

Minerva and Filius nodded in agreement, eyes gleaming.

Poppy got up hastily, grabbing her goblet and making her way over to Severus.  He was sitting down moodily at one of the round tables by himself, not even Argus around to annoy him.

“Severus,” she said, getting his attention.

He said nothing.  She sat down beside him. 

“Severus, you overgrown pilchard.  Stop acting like we’re still bloody back in seventh year, and say something.”

“What do you want, Poppy?”

Poppy looked downcast; she had been hoping her talk would’ve started off better.  It wasn’t her fault she got a tad wound up.  It was entirely his fault, of course. 

“I brought you this juice.”

She handled it to him, and he, not even looking at the contents, put it down on the table.

“You may think I’m an idiot, but I’m not that much of one, Poppy.  Trying to slip me a love potion?”

“Yes, I was.  Why do you always have to be right?”

“I’m not always right, Poppy.  You know that.”  He lowered his voice, about to say something else, when Minerva and Filius came up to them, a jolly bounce in their steps.

“Severus.  Now don’t you recall something about a wager?” Minerva asked, sounding like she was enjoying this far too much.

“Yes, I believe I did.  But is there even proof that the pair of them has done any better in classes?  I’m sure there isn’t, especially if we’re going to look at how well they’ve been performing in my class.”

“Now, Severus, the wager was that their grades improve across the board.”  Filius took out a bit of parchment, showing that both had raised their grades much higher in the past month.  “It looks like they even did better in your class.”

“Let me see that,” he demanded, grabbing it.  “I see.

“So, whom am I dancing with? Is it you, Minerva, or Filius?” he said raising his eyebrows.

“No.  Actually, me.” Poppy spoke up.  “Lucky you.”

Severus took her outstretched hand, looking as if he was going to retch.  Minerva and Filius looked like they were going to have kittens; they were both in shock: Severus had hardly put up a fight.

“What is this, what is this?  Snape on the dance floor with Pomfrey?”  Fred, noticing the pair dancing, made sure to announce it as soon as possible.  The whole room turned their heads to the centre of the room where the two were now dancing to a slow song.  A few girls had silly smiles on their faces, while the rest had looks of disgust.  Minerva figured it was over the fact that Severus even came or, even worse, that he’d willingly dance with someone.

Poppy was having the time of her life, embraced in Severus’ arms, his tall body so close to hers.  She figured she could do anything she wanted, since it was her dance, so she leant her head down on his shoulder, receiving a short grunt in response.  Poppy was thinking that he was quite the dancer, when she noticed the song was almost done.  Taking advantage of the situation, Poppy grabbed his bum swiftly, giving it a good squeeze.  Just at that moment, Colin snapped a picture, catching that exact moment.

The twins whooped and hollered, shouting catcalls to the pair.

The song ended, and Poppy was rather sad, wishing that the dance could go on.  Before Severus stepped away though, he gruffly whispered, “Ashwinder,” leaving Poppy very confused as she followed him off the dance floor. 

He walked over to where he had been sitting before; Minerva and Filius were still there, unable to hide their wide smiles.  Severus, making sure that Poppy was looking, took the exact goblet he’d put down about ten minutes before, and gulped it in one go.

“You must excuse me, Minerva, Filius.  ‘Ensnaring the Senses’ marathon.”  He nodded his good-bye, walking hastily not to the faculty room but to his personal quarters.  Poppy, extracting herself from the giddy duo, followed shortly behind him.

-=-=-

Harry’s whole body ached.  He lay back onto his four-poster bed, groaning as his muscles protested every movement.  It had really been a night to remember for all of them.  He’d danced with Ginny till long past one in the morning.  They slow danced, threw themselves about to the quick songs, and even adopted some of the twins’ moves.  He and Ginny had taken hardly any breaks except for the occasional drink of punch, which Harry now figured the twins had spiked early in the night with Firewhiskey. 

Fred and George had really made the Ball a blast—he even thought that it might have been their doing, getting Snape out on the dance floor.  That had been the most outrageous turn of events for the night.  He couldn’t wait to see Colin’s pictures in the morning.

Before leaving he went to check on the large donation barrel and saw it overflowing, with an additional barrel that wasn't there previously, now half-filled. He was very delighted to see this, proud of his class and school.

Harry peeked out from behind his curtains, seeing dim light from the window already filtering in; it was early morning.  He’d been in the common room talking with Ginny ever since the Ball ended.  All the other Gryffindors had gone straight to bed, too tired to function, but the pair of them had taken the opportunity of the quiet room to talk and rest.

Harry truly could not believe his luck.  He was content to have Ginny beside him on the same level, neither hiding any more secrets from the other.  They talked about everything from Quidditch to the summer and events far in the future.  Naturally, Ginny was still worried about what was going to happen in the following year, but Harry swore that just because she was still at school and he’d be travelling with Ron starting in the fall, that it didn’t mean they wouldn’t see each other.  Harry assured her he’d come to visit her on all Hogsmeade visits and that he’d be at home during Christmas.  The pair had a busy year ahead of them, but they talked through their plans of how they’d coordinate their relationship.

Harry really didn’t want to leave Ginny at Hogwarts alone while she finished her last year.  He even gave a thought to becoming a teacher’s assistant, but he still had the whole summer to decide on that.  He had his whole life ahead of him—some of it planned, most of it not—but he felt comforted, knowing that Ginny would be with him.

-=-=-

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