Turning the Corner

Author's Note. This is the last chapter! Thank you to all you gamma-readers who have bothered to read this far, and made it to the very, very end. Thank you especially to those who bothered to review; some of the reviews have been amazingly perceptive.

Extra thanks to my beta-reader, Elanor Gamgee, for picking up the small errors, and for having the trust and courage to turn me loose to finish this story on my own.

And extra-extra thanks to my alpha-reader, my son Robert, age 11, who is joint patent-holder of the Silencing Varnish. He pointed out that I was about to fall into a large plot-hole, and we soldered it together with the wonderfully convenient Varnish.

I do not own Harry Potter, Hogwarts, the Potterverse, or even the Classlist. They are all the property of J. K. Rowling. This story is not by J. K. Rowling and therefore does not qualify as Harry Potter canon. Nobody is making any money out of these words. No infringement of copyright is intended.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Reverie

No alarm bells rang on Boxing Day. I slept until I was slept out, descending from a happy dream at about a quarter past nine. I took a long hot shower, whistling "Richmond Hill" and "The White Wheat" to myself. I finally ambled through the common room and down to the Great Hall without noticing whether Terry were there or not.

A few students were sitting around the long tables eating a mince pie brunch and drinking coffee. Most people, I supposed, were still sleeping, or lazing around their common rooms. What action there was seemed to be centring around the Gryffindor table. I swept my eyes up and down the Gryffindors, but Ginny was not among them. I bit into a pie, not really caring what anyone else was doing.

Presently Padma came to sit next to me. "I've come to say I owe you an apology," she said.

"Apology accepted," I replied. "It's not really a big deal any more, is it?"

"I'm sorry I didn't behave better when we broke up," she said.

"Well, people don't really expect the person they fancied when they were fourteen to be the one who lasts forever," I said. "Of course we were going to break up sometime."

"That time ought to have been at least a month ago," she said ruefully. "I behaved badly by letting you think I still cared when I didn't - just so that I could keep on having a boyfriend. And I behaved badly in the way I chucked you, all angrily and in public, instead of telling you quietly."

"I expect it's difficult to remember how to behave well when you don't even know what you want - which I suppose you didn't. Have some coffee?"

"No, I've had all the breakfast I want. Thanks for being so nice about this, Michael. I'm just ... as I said ... sorry that I wasn't nice about it too."

But it was easy to be "nice". What was the point of picking quarrels when everything was turning out so perfectly? "I expect we'll stay friends," I said, "after all, we have three and a half more years together. So tell me about Taileb Tarzan. Is he a serious boyfriend?"

She winced at my pronunciation, but did not try to correct me. "I don't suppose so," she said, "because he'll be going back to Paris this summer. And, of course, he's three years older. But we did arrange to meet in the village on the next Hogsmeade weekend."

I didn't want Padma asking me about Luna or anything else, so I asked if she knew what the Gryffindor table was so excited about.

"Creevey, of course," she said. "Everyone wants to see his pictures. Why don't you go and look?"

I put down my empty mug and went. Sure enough, there were hundreds of photographs - mainly portraits - spread all over the Gryffindor table.

"I was way too excited to sleep," a ring-eyed Creevey was explaining to his friends, "So I didn't go to bed at all, I stayed up all night to develop this lot. My brain just wouldn't shut up until I'd printed out every last one. Hi, Michael! I have a great one of you and Luna over here!"

I picked out the portrait of me and the snowflake-garbed Luna, but my eyes stopped over another shot, which showed me and Ginny dancing the Strathspey. We were revolving slowly, staring into each other's eyes, and the photograph-Ginny was laughing softly, as if swaying in my arms were the happiest place in the world.

"I'll take both of these," I said. "And this one too - " I indicated one that I had conveniently just noticed, showing Terry and Sally-Anne and me at our table, apparently at the point of finishing the feast. "How much are you charging?"

"Three sickles each, a real bargain. That's okay, Dean," he turned to Thomas, "take as many as you want, I can make more copies if they're needed."

I slipped two of the pictures into my robe pocket. I would send them to my parents, to show them that my friends and I had enjoyed the Yule Ball. But I would keep the one of Ginny for myself, to remind me of the night I first met her.

She would appear in the Great Hall eventually. Everyone needs to eat, and if she didn't want brunch, there would be afternoon tea, or dinner. And when she arrived, she would find me waiting for her. I would wait all day if need be.

Ginny. My rainbow. My fire-maiden. My dream-come-true and laughter. The girl with amber in her eyes.

THE END.