Written for fwittney, for the hgseasonsfest Autumnfest challenge over at livejournal.
Thanks as always to Chreechree for her awesome beta skills.
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After the Ball | ||||
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Category: Post-DH/AB Characters:Harry/Ginny Genres: Humor Warnings: None Story is Complete Rating: PG-13 Reviews: 27 Summary: Out of all the people present in the ballroom, Harry was probably the only one who understood how utterly bored Ginny was. Hitcount: Story Total: 12841 Awards: View Trophy Room Disclaimer: Harry Potter Publishing Rights © J.K.R. Note the opinions in this story are my own and in no way represent the owners of this site. This story subject to copyright law under transformative use. No compensation is made for this work. Author's Notes: |
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When Ginny signed up to play for the Harpies, she realised that she had other obligations to fulfil for the team aside from scoring as many goals as she possibly could during a game, but never, in her whole life, had she imagined that she also had to undergo what was tantamount to complete and absolute torture. Well, ‘torture’ may be too strong a word for it. Perhaps a more accurate term would be ‘unnecessary anguish’, or maybe even ‘cruel and unusual punishment’. The discordant notes of an up-tempo beat floated through the air, making Ginny wince. Nope, she was right. ‘Torture’, with a capital T, was the proper term for it. Ginny sighed and took a sip of her pumpkin juice, wishing she was drinking something a bit stronger. If only her presence wasn’t required at the Annual Autumn Ball thrown by the owner of the Holyhead Harpies, Gwendolyn Buchanan, she would have done a runner ages ago. Even Hermione’s brilliant mind had not managed to find a way for Ginny to skip the event without being cited for breach of contract. At first, this year’s Ball had appeared to be more promising than the previous one she had attended. Mrs Buchanan, who hosted the annual fete as a means of cementing her status in Wizarding society, had decided against the traditional costume party at the last moment. Ginny certainly hadn’t been relishing the idea of dressing up as the fantastical beast her team had been named after. Trying to sit down with that tail would have been murder. And though she didn’t know half of the glittering guests who mingled and chattered and gossiped in the cavernous ballroom decorated in rich, harvest colours, Ginny still managed to have a good time by joking around with her teammates and the few other Quidditch players who had been invited. Even the fact that all the Harpies were in the gold bridesmaid-like robes Mrs Buchanan had insisted on having them wear (bringing back memories of Fleur’s wedding) did not bother Ginny — much. No, the problem was that halfway through the party, Ginny finally discovered the reason why there was a makeshift stage standing in the middle of the ballroom — five reasons, to be exact: Gwenifer, Gwennan, Gwylan, Gwyneth and Gunhilda Buchanan. All of them were pretty, blonde and blue-eyed, all were clad in robes of an unfortunate shade of mustard yellow, and all were apparently making their musical debut that very evening by ‘entertaining’ the crowd with a lovingly prepared selection of classic and popular Wizarding songs. Ginny didn’t know who had told the Buchanan girls otherwise (probably their mother), but their talents definitely did not lie in the musical arts. She had to give them credit, though. What they lacked for in pitch, they more than made up for in enthusiasm, as three of the girls shrilled their way through the chorus. They looked like they were enjoying themselves hugely, even treating the audience with some fancy footwork completely out of sync with the song. The other two, however, seemed less than enthusiastic than their sisters. Judging from the way they kept their mortified gazes fixed firmly on the floor as they hacked away at their instruments — the musical saw was their weapon of choice — they appeared as if they knew exactly what sort of aural torment they were inflicting on their listeners. Ginny took another fortifying gulp of her pumpkin juice and made a valiant effort to appreciate the show, as everyone else seemed to be doing. Perhaps they were more skilled at faking it than she was. Two minutes later, she gave up, and since running out of the ballroom screaming and tearing at her hair would very likely be considered the height of rudeness, Ginny instead began thinking of things that she could have been doing instead of suffering through all this, such as: Playing Quidditch. Reading the Harpies’ playbook. Talking to Luna. Talking to her mum, or anybody in her family, for that matter — even Percy. Washing her hair. Organising her closet. Cleaning her bathroom. Knitting. Knitting? That just goes to show how desperate I am to get out of here, Ginny thought to herself and fidgeted with her glass. To distract herself from giving in to the impulse to cast a Silencing Charm on the Buchanan quintet, she looked across the room and was mildly shocked to find a pair of warm green eyes twinkling in her direction. Harry Potter smirked at her and lifted a dark eyebrow. Ginny lifted an eyebrow back in challenge, feeling a smile tugging at her lips even as she did so. Out of all the people present in the ballroom, he was probably the only one who understood how utterly bored she was. Harry Potter — the Boy-Who-Lived, Defeater of the Dark Lord, and quite possibly, The Love of Her Life. Too bad he didn’t feel the same way about her. Ginny frowned and shook her head. No use harping on that again like a — well — Harpy. (Ginny groaned silently — she really had to come up with better jokes; George would be so disappointed in her). She had long ago given up on the fact that she and Harry could ever be more than friends, and quite honestly, she was happy that they actually were friends. They’d certainly come a long way from the time Ginny’s ten year-old self blushed and stammered, barely even able to remember her name, whenever Harry was around. Her crippling crush had disappeared right around the time he had saved her life during her first year in Hogwarts, and grown into something else over the years — something that probably could be properly defined as love, but was something that Ginny was careful to keep hidden away because she didn’t want to lose Harry’s friendship. Harry was Ginny’s best friend nowadays, considering that Hermione was too wrapped up in Ron and planning their wedding, and Luna was off somewhere in the wilds of Inverness, documenting the mating habits of Caledonian Thistlethumpers, or some other strange creature like that. Harry was always up for a pint at The Leaky, or even for staying in and listening to the wireless at Ginny’s flat on days when they both found themselves with too much time on their hands. And if Harry seemed to forget that he and Ginny had actually dated during her fifth year, well, she certainly wasn’t going to be the one to remind him of that tiny little detail and ask him if he wanted to give their relationship another try. But what was Harry doing here? Ginny wondered. Harry hated these sorts of things with a passion that even rivalled his aversion to tabloid reporters and their incessant need to pair him up with whoever was the latest empty-headed celebrity witch making the headlines. (The most recent headline had him involved a torrid love affair with Delilah Hildegarde Flume, heiress to the famous sweet shop, Honeydukes, in Hogsmeade. Harry and Ginny had had a good laugh over that, considering that Harry had never even met the woman, who was pushing ninety and rumoured to be more than a few flavours short of Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans.) Ginny’s gaze drifted to the man standing next to Harry — Kingsley Shacklebolt (who had the most bewildered expression on his face) — and she suddenly understood Harry’s presence at the Ball. Kingsley was the incumbent Minister of Magic, and Harry, being the best Auror in the Magical Law Enforcement Squad, was often assigned to detail Kingsley when he attended public functions. Harry caught Ginny’s eye once more and inclined his head towards the singers, who were now blissfully butchering the Celestina Warbeck classic, A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love. Ginny snorted into her drink, earning her a glare from the portly wizard standing next to her. “Shhh!” the man hissed, his tip of his pointy purple hat threatening to skewer Ginny in the eye as he leaned forward to admonish her. “Do you mind?” “Yes, I do, actually,” murmured Ginny. The wizard glowered at her again, and Ginny hastily said, “I mean, sorry.” She ducked her head to feign interest in the intricate swirling pattern of stylized letter Gs and Bs of the dark blue carpet that covered the ballroom floor. When she glanced up again, Harry was nowhere to be found. Swallowing her disappointment that he had not even taken time to talk to her before disappearing, Ginny took a quick look around and decided that if Harry could leave, then so could she. She’d just inform Gwenog that she had eaten a bad cucumber sandwich and that she was feeling nauseous. It was true anyway — the nauseous bit. Depositing her empty goblet on a nearby end table, she slowly made her way backwards through the crowd. Just as she was nearing the exit, an amused voice in her ear caused her to stop in her tracks. “Leaving the party so soon?” She whirled around and levelled a fierce look at Harry. “Well, yes, as a matter of fact, I was,” she whispered back, trying not to shiver at the way his warm breath tickled the hairs at the back of her neck, “but since you’ve accosted me, now I’m stuck here listening to this!” “Oh, they’re not that bad,” protested Harry. He even hummed along for a few bars, leaving Ginny staring at him in disbelief. “Make things even worse than they already are, why don’t you,” she muttered, making him laugh quietly. “You’re either seriously tone deaf or…” her eyes narrowed, “you’re using some sort of Auror spell, aren’t you?” He smiled sheepishly and tapped his ear. “Noise filtering spell,” he confessed. “Eliminates unnecessary background noise especially during—” One of the girls hit a particularly sour note, and both Ginny and Harry cringed. “All right, I take it back. They are that bad if that can get through my spell,” he said. “Mind if I join you in your great escape?” “Won’t Kingsley be looking for you?” Harry grinned. “No, he did a runner too. Said his goodbyes to our hostess, citing Ministry matters that needed his attention. I’ve just Apparated back from his house.” “That cheat!” Ginny laughed. “So why’d you come back if you already had the opportunity to save your sense of hearing?” “Well, you were still here, and looking quite brilliant, I might add,” he pointed out, smiling at her. “I think that would more than make up for any hearing loss I might incur.” “I didn’t realise you were also using a charm to make you colour blind,” she said, making a face. “Gold is just so… tacky.” “What charm?” he replied, touching the sleeve of her robe. “You look beautiful, Ginny.” “Huh. Flattery will get you nowhere,” she said lightly, cursing the traitorous colour she could feel suffusing her cheeks. He doesn’t mean it that way, she thought, he’s just teasing as usual. Harry often did that, giving her compliments out of the blue, and then following them up with a light-hearted comment, like last month, when he oh so very casually remarked that he loved the colour of her hair, saying the it was almost the same shade of scarlet that the Hogwarts Express was, or like the other day, when he praised her for her flying skills, comparing her to a hippogriff swooping down on its hapless prey. These compliments had initially made Ginny frustrated to no end, until she learned to simply be gratified that Harry had not let all the hardships he had gone through totally snuff out his sense of humour. Presently, though, it was difficult not to feel just the tiniest bit thrilled at his words, especially when he was staring at her like she really was the most brilliant thing he had ever seen. In fact, she had seen that look a few times before, usually when they had been in the middle of an intense snogging session in one of the broom closets of Hogwarts. It felt like so long ago… “Can it get us away from here, at least?” he asked, interrupting her pleasant trip down memory lane. “Unless you’re here with someone…” He frowned. “Are you?” “No, I’m not with anyone, and yes, please,” said Ginny as the same Buchanan daughter made a brave and ultimately doomed attempt to reach another high note, “let’s get out of here. I don’t think my eardrums can take any more damage.” “C’mon, then.” Harry grabbed her hand, suddenly looking very pleased. “I know the quickest way out.” Aside from a minor mishap when Harry inadvertently trod on one of the numerous decorative miniature pumpkins that littered the floor, they managed to successfully evade a proudly glowing Mrs Buchanan and creep past a glassy-eyed Gwenog Jones. Muffling their laughter, the two of them made a beeline for the ballroom doors. Fallen leaves swirled against their feet as they finally burst out into the street outside the Buchanan mansion. Ginny leaned against an old elm, giving in to her giggles. “Free at last!” she said dramatically, throwing her arms out wide. “Thanks for helping me get out of there.” “Anytime,” said Harry. “I’ll always be there for you.” She groaned and swatted his arm playfully. “Enough with the cheesy lines, you.” “That wasn’t cheesy!” he objected, plucking at a leaf that had lodged in her hair. “Yes, it was,” she countered, smiling at him. “Well, even if it was, I really meant it,” he muttered, sounding rather hurt at her dismissive attitude. Ginny was taken aback on how put out he appeared. “All right, then,” she said in a placating tone, shivering a little as she did so. She had forgotten her wrap in their haste, and the evening autumn air had become a bit nippy. “Here.” Harry began rubbing her shoulders. “It’s getting rather chilly.” “Oh. Right.” She wasn’t only warmed up, she was now practically on fire. “Anyway,” she said haltingly, “I know you have work tomorrow. Do you want to turn in?” “No, not really,” said Harry, his hands stilling on her upper arms. “Um, Ginny—” “Yes?” she said, hoping she didn’t sound as flustered as she felt. She focused her attention on the collar of his red Auror robes because she knew that if she so much as glanced into his eyes, she would do something absolutely foolhardy such as throwing herself at him and kissing the living daylights out of him. “Er, it’s still early, and, well,” he took a deep breath before continuing, “it seems a shame to waste the rest of the evening, especially with you looking so lovely in your robes and all…” Surprised, she looked up at him then. There was something in his eyes that was making her think that perhaps, this time, he wasn’t teasing and he did mean it that way… Harry’s lips met hers in a slow, gentle kiss, clearing any further doubts Ginny had about how he truly felt. “So,” she asked softly when they eventually pulled apart, “where do we go from here?” “Anywhere you want,” he replied, linking their hands together. “Although,” he continued, his tone turning playful, “I wouldn’t mind spending the rest of the night with you in my warm, cosy flat, yeah? “Okay,” Ginny nodded, smiling, “but you have to promise me something, all right?” “What is it?” “You have to teach me that noise filtering spell,” she said. “So I can be prepared for next year’s concert.” Harry laughed and gave her a quick kiss on the temple. “All right, but I have to warn you,” he said, his green eyes dancing in amusement, “it’s a very complicated spell. We’ll have to spend loads and loads more nights — and days — together, just the two of us, so you can get it right, okay?” “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” said Ginny, beaming up at him. |
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