The Rebirth

Chapter 3

 

 

The Dream

 

October 2, 1997

The room was the largest she had ever seen. The ceiling was so high as to almost be invisible to her eyes. She could barely make out the wall opposite her. The floor was made of flat, gray stone; the walls were also stone, but were hung with rich tapestries that muffled the echoes of her footsteps. Ginny walked cautiously down the deserted hall, looking left and right, the uncanny silence making her nervous. She felt like she was walking through water; the air was heavy and thick, somehow, and the room was filled with an eerie blue glow.

A silver throne sat on a raised dais against the wall. On it sat a giant, dangerous looking woman dressed all in red. "What are you doing here?" Ginny asked irritably, the ghostly room temporarily driving her fear of the goddess out of her mind.

The Mórrígan didn't answer right away. She leaned an elbow on one arm of the throne and motioned with her other hand for Ginny to turn around. Ginny gasped in surprise. Behind her, there was a table where no table had been a moment before. It was massive, carved from a single piece of wood. No mortal could have created this table, Ginny thought, stepping closer. It was perfectly round, and covered with carvings of dragons. The images were so realistic, she could have sworn they were moving. There were at least a hundred imposing, high-backed chairs spaced evenly around it. Ginny stepped toward the table slowly, drawn to it like a moth to a flame, completely unable to stop herself. They look like the dragon on my ring, she thought, looking closer at the carvings.

Ginny reached out her hand slowly, pausing just before she touched the tabletop. She took a deep breath, and then, she brought her hand down, feeling the smooth, cool wood beneath her skin. Suddenly, a loud CRACK shattered the silence in that unearthly hall. The table split right down the center. The two halves lay broken, their jagged edges wide enough apart to form a clear pathway down the middle. Ginny jerked her arm back and screamed in surprise. She recoiled several steps and felt her back slam into the Mórrígan's chest.

Ginny turned and faced the goddess. "What is this?" she demanded. "You broke the table!"

"No," Mórrígan answered. "You broke the table."

"Where is this place?" Ginny hoped that she hadn't been pulled into the Otherworld again.

"We are in the past," the goddess told her.

"Why?"

"Because you can't face your future until you understand what's come before."

Ginny whirled around and ran. Her blood pounded in her ears as she raced between the two pieces of broken wood, fleeing the goddess and the table that had been divided by her hand. Blinded by her panic, she slammed into the Mórrígan, who had Apparated directly into Ginny's escape path. The goddess closed her hands around Ginny's shoulders and shook her so hard her teeth rattled. Then she pushed Ginny away with enough force to send the girl sprawling on the stone floor.

"You broke the table, Virginia Morgan Weasley," Mórrígan accused. "It is your responsibility to set it right."

Ginny slowly dragged herself to her feet and raised her eyes to the goddess's. "I didn't," she protested. The goddess looked down from her great height. "I don't know what you're talking about. Can't you leave me alone?" she asked in a whispered plea.

"Pull yourself together," the goddess ordered impatiently. "You're a disgrace."

Ginny felt tears threatening to spill from her eyes. She madly blinked them away and tried to swallow the lump in her throat. Mórrígan reached out a single finger and trailed it along Ginny's collarbone, leaving a trail of agonizing torment in its wake. Ginny bit her lip, determined not to give the goddess satisfaction by crying out. The tears spilled out of her eyes and ran in salty tracks down her face and her cheeks burned in humiliation and pain, but she made no sound. Mórrígan seemed not to notice Ginny's internal struggle; she hooked a finger around the silver chain and lifted the dragon ring from its hiding place beneath Ginny's shirt. She looked at it for a long moment, and then dropped it. The ring struck Ginny's breastbone with its dull weight. "Don't ever take it off," she warned. Ginny nodded, wiping the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand.

"I understand," she said.

The goddess gave her a condescending look. "You don't. But you will figure it out soon, or I have been wasting my time with you."

They stood there, facing each other in that cavernous room for a silent moment. The crack of the wood still echoed in Ginny's ears.

"I broke the table," she whispered, closing her hand around the ring.

Mórrígan looked at her sharply. "You are very much as I was when I was young," she said.

Ginny looked into her eyes. "You were never young."

"You're right, I wasn't." The goddess's face was cold. "And if I had been, I'm sure I would've been nothing at all like you, worthless girl."

* * * * *

Ginny sat up suddenly in her four poster bed. She still clutched the ring in her hand. She drew one of her bed curtains aside and peeked out, making sure that her nightmare hadn't woken any of her dorm mates. The curtains on Gwen, Shannon, and Maria's beds were closed tightly; none of them stirred. Hastily tucking the ring beneath her collar, Ginny slipped out of bed and padded out the door, dragging her coverlet behind her. She quietly walked down the stairs to the common room, hoping none of the prefects were light sleepers.

She needed to think about this latest encounter with Mórrígan. They were becoming more and more frequent lately. The goddess visited her dreams at least once a week, usually to deliver a cryptic message that Ginny had no hope of deciphering.

Dropping her blanket on the floor in front of the fire, which had burned to nothing but embers, Ginny got a cup off the shelf and filled it with water from the tap in the corner. Whenever she had a nightmare as a little girl, her mother brought her a glass of water and a hug. Ginny figured fifty percent of a home remedy was better than nothing. She settled on the floor before the glowing logs and leaned back against the sofa, wrapping herself in the bedspread and sipping her water pensively.

A table, she thought. What on Earth could a table represent? Ginny had no answer to that question, and so she knew she had to stay awake; if Ginny fell back asleep Mórrígan would be there waiting, furious that Ginny had had the nerve to wake up in the middle of the lesson. The fact that Ginny wasn't learning anything from these lessons had never crossed the goddess's mind. Whenever Ginny tried to explain that Mórrígan had the wrong girl, or that she had no idea what the goddess was trying to show her, Ginny only earned a shove or some sharp words. When Mórrígan was extremely angry, she would trail a finger down the side of Ginny's face or arm, knowing how much it pained mortals to be in contact with the skin of a divine being.

So Ginny sat alone on the floor of the common room, wrapped in her bedspread and sipping on her water. The embers of the fire left the room in semi-darkness. Presently, she heard the creak of the stairs on the boys' side. Turning in surprise, Ginny saw Harry descending the stairs, his black hair standing on end and his green eyes cloudy with sleep. He was almost parallel to the fireplace before he noticed Ginny on the floor. He nearly jumped out of his skin. "God, Gin! What are you doing down here?"

"Same thing as you, I think," she answered. Ron had told her about Harry's frequent nightmares.

He confirmed her guess by asking sympathetically, "Bad dream, then?"

She nodded. "I just came down here to get a drink of water. It sometimes helps me feel better."

"Yeah," he agreed, taking a cup down from the wall and filling it at the tap as she had done earlier. He padded over and sat down on the floor next to her. They both looked into the remnants of the fire, each lost in the memory of the dreams that woke them.

"And you don't want to go back to sleep, you know?" Harry finally broke the silence. "Because the dream might still be there, waiting for you." He shivered.

Ginny noticed for the first time how cold the room was. The dying fire did nothing to keep the autumn chill out of the air. "Here," she said, opening the blanket that she had wrapped around her. She set one end gently around Harry's shoulders. "We can share."

Harry looked down at her, but didn't say anything. He pulled his end of the bedspread tighter around his shoulders. Ginny laughed. "Stop it! Nobody likes a chap who hogs the covers."

Harry looked momentarily startled, and then chuckled gently and rearranged the blanket so that they each had half. They sat, shoulder to shoulder, in their cozy, down filled cocoon. I shouldn't be down here with him, she thought, remembering their encounter in the living room at the Burrow. This will only make it harder for me to put him out of my mind. Yet something inside of her told her to stay; that everything would be all right. The room was dark and Harry's body was so very warm. Despite her intentions to the contrary, Ginny found herself drifting off. She tried to stay awake, but then Harry raised his arm and settled it around her back, holding her close by his side. For a brief moment she considered pulling away, but it seemed as though her body and her mind were operating completely independently of one another. Ginny rested her head on his shoulder and stopped fighting to keep her eyes open.

"So what was yours about?" Harry's voice was low and soft.

"Hmmm?" she replied drowsily.

"Your dream," he said, shrugging his shoulder to jostle her head a bit.

She opened her eyes and elbowed him in the side. "Quit it," she said. "I was just getting comfortable."

"What was it about?" he asked again.

Ginny tried to describe her dream in vague terms. "I remember someone who didn't like me," she answered slowly. "And this person tried to hurt me." She shuddered, remembering the agony of Mórrígan's finger on her skin. Harry tightened his arm reassuringly around her shoulders. "How about yours?"

"Same as usual," he answered with a bitter laugh.

"Was there a monster?" Ginny asked, choosing to deliberately misunderstand. She didn't want to talk about Voldemort tonight.

"Isn't there always?" Harry sounded tired.

"There isn't now." She laid her head back on his shoulder, thinking how very comfortable he was.

"No," his voice was low. "There isn't now."

They were silent for a while longer, and then Harry spoke again. "Gin?" There was no answer. "Gin, are you awake?" He twisted his head to get a look at her face; she was sound asleep, her breathing even. One hand curled in the blanket, holding it close to her chest, and the other lay on the floor between his back and the couch. He shifted a bit so that her head wasn't at such an extreme angle; he didn't want her to get a sore neck. Then he rested his head back against the sofa cushion and closed his eyes, following her to dreamland, neither one of them troubled by nightmares.

* * * * *

Harry woke suddenly from a sound sleep. He looked around the common room, blearily registering that the grandfather clock said five minutes to five, and trying to remember how he got there. Then, he looked down and saw a red head resting against his chest and it all came flooding back to him. His nightmare about Voldemort, how he came downstairs to avoid waking his dorm mates, found Ginny, and then held her as she fell asleep, the two of them keeping each others' nightmares at bay. He looked at the clock again; they had to get back to their rooms. He didn't want to think about the scene that Ron would cause if he found them down here together.

Harry looked down at the top of her head. Shaking her awake just didn't seem the thing to do after last night. Instead, he stroked a hand gently down her hair. It's so soft, he thought. He remembered the night before, when he put his arm around her and held her next to him. He had been desperate for human contact, to know that there was someone else who could understand his fear of falling asleep and of what waited for him every night in his subconscious. To his pleasure, Ginny hadn't pulled away or sat stiffly beside him, she had snuggled right up next to him and promptly dropped off.

He continued stroking her hair and leaned down so that his mouth was next to her ear. "Gin, wake up," he said softly. She stirred a bit. "Ginny," he said again. "We have to get back up to our rooms."

She lifted her head from his chest and rubbed her eyes sleepily. Then she stretched, arching her back like a cat. When she was done, she lifted her face to his. He watched the changing expression in her eyes as the memories of the night before came back to her, and then she smiled.

Their gazes locked. Harry felt something shift inside of him, as though a part of him that had been closed off was finally free. He was falling right into her. Her brown eyes became all he could see. For just a second, a shimmering moment in time, everything she was, everything that was uniquely Ginny, was open to him. He could see her imagination, her dreams, and her childhood memories. He felt her thoughts, ambitions, and insecurities, her disorientation from being woken so early in the morning, and the slight cramp in her legs from sleeping on the floor all night. Gently, Harry's mind pulled back, but he had left something of himself behind in her. He could feel part of her in him, as though they had traded pieces of their souls. It was the most powerful, intense, and unsettling magic he had ever experienced.

Ginny hardly dared to breathe. She met Harry's eyes and suddenly felt as though a piece of her had been torn away, leaving a hole in the very fabric of her being that had been immediately filled by something that was the essence of Harry. She could feel it in her heart and mind, foreign, and yet strangely familiar, as though she had been waiting for this moment her entire life and just hadn't realized it yet.

They stared at each other, both of them perfectly still. The entire exchange had taken less than a second, but they knew that their lives had been altered forever. "What was that?" Ginny's words were more breath than sound.

"I don't know," Harry replied, equally still. "You felt it too?"

She nodded, almost imperceptibly.

The clock began to chime five o'clock.

They stared into each other's eyes another long moment, both unsettled and a bit frightened by the powerful spell that had briefly ensnared them.

Finally, and with no little effort, Ginny untangled her mind from its stupor and turned her head to look at the clock. "We have to get back to our rooms," she murmured, feeling somehow that speaking out loud would shatter the fragile aura of magic that permeated the common room.

"Yeah," Harry said, but made no move to leave. He had turned almost completely inward, feeling the piece of Ginny that he now carried within him. He knew it wasn't something he would ever get used to; he'd be aware of it every minute of every day. But, Harry knew he'd fight to the death anyone who tried to take it away.

Ginny extricated herself from Harry's arms and stood, holding out her hand to help him up. "Come on, we have to go. We can talk about it later, after we've both had a chance to think."

Harry stood, picking up the comforter and handing it to her. "I'll see you at breakfast," he said, his voice a bit unsteady.

Ginny nodded, gave him a small smile, and then went up the stairs to her own dorm, trailing the blanket behind her.

When she reached her room, Ginny tossed the blanket onto her bed, opened the window, and leaned out, taking deep breaths of the cold, fresh air. While her head started clearing from the magical fog that had filled it in the common room, Ginny surveyed the Hogwarts grounds, taking in the vague, lumpy forms of the greenhouses and Hagrid's cabin, sensing rather than seeing the Forbidden Forest beyond it all. A crow landed on the windowsill and cawed loudly.

"Shh!" Ginny hissed to the bird. "Go away!" She shooed it off of the ledge, not wanting it to wake the other girls.

With another loud caw, the crow fluttered its wings and flew off. Ginny sighed as she closed the window, and then she climbed into bed and drew the curtains, enclosing herself in a box of red velvet. She had no idea what had happened in the common room between Harry and her, and she knew that analyzing the spell without any books or reference materials would be a useless waste of time. Ginny flopped onto her back and stared at the ceiling, waiting for the noises that would tell her that her roommates had woken up. Unconsciously, her hand closed around the ring that rested on her chest.

* * * * *

The October days flew by. Ginny's workload was astoundingly heavy. Her professors were all intent on preparing them for the NEWTs, even though the class wouldn't be taking the tests for another year. Adding to the pressure was the fact that Ginny was aware of Harry every moment of every day. Even when he wasn't near her she could feel the piece of him she carried within her and knew that his thoughts were never far from what had happened in the common room. Still, they hadn't talked about what happened. Since that morning, Ginny couldn't bear Harry's company. For a time, no matter how brief, every part of her soul had been open to him. He knew everything about her; she had no secrets from him anymore. All of her most embarrassing moments, her most private dreams, and her dearest ambitions had been laid bare. The incredible vulnerability that came with having Harry know her so well was intolerable. So, she avoided him and when avoidance was impossible, like during Quidditch practice, Ginny always made sure that they stayed in a large group so that he couldn't talk to her alone.

At least she had the upcoming Halloween ball to distract her. It was all her dorm mates ever talked about anymore. Who was going with whom, what they would wear, jewelry, shoes, makeup, and boys—Ginny didn't think the sixth year Gryffindor girls had ever been this thrilled about anything. She couldn't help being caught up in their excitement; she had worked hard on her dress robes, after all, and she couldn't wait to wear them. As a matter of fact, the ball was the foremost thing on her mind as she headed into double Potions with the Ravenclaws.

As usual, Ginny took a seat next to Maria. Ria was a Muggle born witch with brown hair and hazel eyes, one of Ginny's fellow chasers on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and from almost their first day at Hogwarts the two of them had been inseparable. Besides Harry, Hermione, and her family, Ria was the only person who knew about the Chamber of Secrets and the enchantment that Voldemort had put on Ginny. Behind them, Shannon earnestly sought Gwen's opinion on what color nail varnish she should wear to the ball.

Ginny and Ria exchanged amused looks. Gwen was Gryffindor's resident beauty expert. She dreamed of opening a spa after graduation, and her advice on hair, clothes, and cosmetics was prized among the girls of all houses. Gwen knew the ins and outs of every potion and charm that perfected one's looks, but unless a lesson dealt with something cosmetic Gwen was hopeless. She had the worst grades of the sixth year class, and every term Ria, Shannon, and Ginny were terrified that she wouldn't pass. She always did, but just by the skin of her teeth.

"Reckon we should join in the conversation?" Ginny asked. Ria was a jock of the first order and had a phobia of anything having to do with cosmetics or dressing up.

Ria made a face. "I haven't the faintest idea what they're talking about." She sneezed. "Sorry, Gin. I think I'm getting a cold."

Ginny looked around the room. All of the Ravenclaws and half of the Gryffindors were sniffling.

Ginny herself had been fighting a sinus headache for the past three days.

Professor Snape swept into the room. "Today," he said, fixing all of the students who were blowing their noses with an icy glare, "you will be brewing Pepperup potion. I daresay you all need it. I hope you have read the chapter in your text about medicinal potions, because, as an extra challenge, you will be working without the instructions."

There was a general outcry from the students that was silenced by a wave of Snape's hand. "If you have read the chapter, you should have nothing to worry about."

"I read the chapter, but I didn't memorize it," Ria whispered nervously to Ginny.

Snape turned to their table. "Miss Johnson, perhaps you and Miss Weasley shouldn't work together today since you can't keep from socializing while I'm talking. Take your things and sit with Miss Mockridge."

"But Professor—"

"Go!" he ordered.

Ria silently gathered up her things and walked to the Ravenclaw side of the room, her cheeks burning. Medea Mockridge's partner moved to the empty seat next to Ginny. She glanced over—it was Mike Fletcher. Fantastic, she thought.

Ginny and Mike began preparing their ingredients, neither one speaking for a while. Finally, Mike asked, "So, fallen into any sacred ponds lately?" Ginny looked up at him and then continued slicing her Echinacea plant without replying. Mike cleared his throat. "Right. That wasn't funny. Let's start again. Do you have a date for the ball yet?"

"No," she answered, her attention focused on the plant. "Do you?"

"Oh yeah." He couldn't keep the smug smile off of his face.

Ginny's interest was piqued. "Who?" she asked, trying to remember if she'd noticed Mike hanging around any one girl in particular.

"Hannah Abbott."

"Really? Seventh year Hufflepuff Hannah Abbott?"

"Mmm-hmmm," Mike smirked as he threw her plant pieces into the cauldron. "She's tall, she's blonde, she's gorgeous, and she said she'd go with me."

Ginny couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at her mouth. "That's fantastic, Mike. You two will have a great time."

"Now we have to find a date for you."

She shook her head. "Don't bother. I've been thinking that I might want to go alone."

"Go alone!" Mike couldn't have looked more horrified if she'd suggested burning a Dark Mark into her arm.

"I mean, I'd go with a date if somebody asked me, but if I'm stag then I can dance with whoever I want without worrying that I'm neglecting some boy."

Mike shook his head in disbelief. "You're so weird, Gin."

"You're just so happy that Hannah said yes that you want everyone to have a date."

He laughed. "You've got me."

She shrugged. "I've still got two and a half weeks. I'm sure somebody will pop up by then." Ginny thought about her third year, when her brother wanted her to go with Harry as a last resort. She said to Mike, "Somebody who's been turned down two or three times, no doubt."

"Don't sell yourself short," he cautioned. "I'm sure you'll have almost as much fun at the ball as I will."

"Almost as much?"

He smirked again. "Well, you aren't going with Hannah Abbott."

The two of them lapsed into silence again, racking their brains to remember the potion recipe. At the end of class, Ginny and Mike looked into their cauldron, satisfied with their work. Their Pepperup potion looked just like the batch Madame Pomfrey kept in her supply cabinet.

Snape announced, "When your potion is done, one partner should test it. The outcome will determine your grade for the assignment."

Mike and Ginny looked into their cauldron. "You should take it," Mike said. "You've been coughing all through class."

"Are you sure you don't want it?" Ginny asked.

"That's okay. I'll get some from the hospital wing later."

Ginny filled a ladle with the potion and swallowed it in one gulp, holding her nose to block the unpleasant taste. Her ears began to smoke, and her head cleared almost instantly. She gave Mike a triumphant smile and opened her mouth to say that they were sure to get top marks, but no sound came out. She tried again. Nothing. Mike was giving her a strange look, so she pulled over a sheet of parchment and scribbled on it: My voice is gone!

"Completely?" Mike was incredulous. Ginny nodded. Gone, she mouthed, reaching for her parchment. What did we do wrong? she wrote.

Snape picked that moment to check on their table. "What seems to be the problem, Miss Weasley?"

Ginny put her hand on her throat and opened her mouth, but she was completely unable to talk. "I see," Snape said. He turned to the rest of the class. "Ladies and Gentlemen, this is a great day indeed. Miss Weasley has finally been struck mute."

Ginny's cheeks burned in embarrassment, but she couldn't say a word to defend herself. Snape was still addressing the class. "Who can tell me why elderberry is a key ingredient in Pepperup potion?"

A Ravenclaw boy raised his hand. "It eases sore throats."

Snape turned to Mike. "And how much elderberry did you put into your Pepperup potion, Mr. Fletcher?"

Mike looked at Ginny, who shrugged. "Two grams?" he guessed.

"That is nearly double the necessary amount. It's no wonder Miss Weasley's voice won't work." He looked down at Ginny. "Your voice should be back in a few hours. Ten points from Gryffindor for this error."

* * * * *

Mike and Ginny left the dungeons together. "I'm really sorry, Gin," he said. "I should've known that two grams was too much.

She shook her head. Don't worry about it, she mouthed. He frowned at her. "You're going to have to write it. I didn't catch a bit of that."

Ginny still clutched her parchment and quill. She put a hand on Mike's arm to stop him from walking and then used his back as a writing surface to scribble her message. She held it up for him to read. Mike sighed. "I can't help feeling bad. I should've known that recipe inside and out."

Ginny rolled her eyes and then grabbed Mike's arm and pointed down the hall. They had been walking past the Charms corridor and the seventh year Hufflepuff class was just getting out. Hannah, she mouthed, hoping that seeing her would cheer Mike up a bit. He smiled eagerly. "Do you mind if I go talk to her?"

She grinned and shoved him in the direction of the group of students who were loitering in the hall. Mike waved goodbye and trotted off to where Hannah was standing, surrounded by her friends.

Ginny stood for a moment to watch him, an amused smile on her face. Many boys at Hogwarts had a crush on Hannah Abbott, and she was happy for Mike that he would be the one to take her to the ball. She noticed Ernie MacMillian detaching himself from the group and walking toward her. "Hi Ginny," he greeted. She smiled at him, hoping that if she looked friendly enough he wouldn't notice that she was temporarily mute.

Ernie glanced over his shoulder at the group at the end of the hall and then turned back to her. "I was wondering--" he began, but then Hannah laughed particularly loudly at something Mike said to her and Ernie lost his train of thought, turning his head to look.

Ginny waited patiently. He turned back to her and said, "I was wondering if you have a date for the ball yet." Ginny shook her head. "Would you like to go with me? As friends, I mean." What a coincidence, Ginny thought. She had just been telling Mike that she didn't have a date and now here was someone asking her, right out of the blue. She smiled and nodded. I'd love to, she mouthed.

Ernie looked at her strangely. "Are you okay?"

She set her parchment against the wall and wrote: Potions accident. No Voice. I'd love to go to the ball with you.

"Great," he answered. "I'll talk to you later?"

She nodded, and he rejoined the pack of Hufflepuffs.

* * * * *

As Professor Snape promised, Ginny's voice was fully functional only a few hours after Potions class. That night in the common room, she filled her friends in on her newfound date. "Ernie MacMillian asked you?" Shannon asked.

"As friends," Ginny answered defensively. "Why? What's your problem?"

"It's just that he's been dating Hannah Abbott for months," Shannon answered.

Ginny shrugged. "They must have broken up or he'd be going with her." She noticed Harry sitting a little ways off. He was pretending to be engrossed in his book, but she could tell he'd been eavesdropping. "Is there something I can help you with, Harry?" she asked loudly, ignoring the looks she was getting from her friends.

He shut his book with a snap and said, "Yes, actually. Could I talk to you for a second?"

Ginny looked around the common room. It was fairly full; if she walked over to his chair they'd still be within earshot of several groups of people. There was no way he'd be able to bring up what happened between them two weeks ago. She got up and joined him, perching on the arm of his chair to give herself a height advantage.

He stood. Damn, she thought, craning her neck up to see him.

"You're going to the ball with Ernie MacMillian?"

"Yes…." She had no idea what offense he could take at that. It's not like she was going with bloody Malfoy or anything.

"Why?" he demanded.

"Why not?"

"Why?"

Ginny thought he'd lost his mind. One too many Voldemort-induced nightmares, she told herself. Out loud, she said, "Because he asked me to."

Harry took her arm and practically dragged her over to an area of the room far from the crowd of students. "Harry, everyone's looking at us. Let go of me." Ginny was angry, but more than that she was concerned. She'd never seen Harry act this way before.

He dropped her arm and turned to face her. "You're going with him because he asked."

"Is there an echo in here? That's what I said."

Harry no longer looked furious. He seemed a little lost. "What about me?" he asked.

Ginny was confused. "I don't understand," she began, but then it dawned on her. "Oh! You mean you don't have a date yet?"

Harry looked down at her stonily. "Poor Harry," she said sympathetically, laying a hand on his arm. "I'm sure you'll find somebody."

"What if I don't want to find somebody." He scowled down at her.

"Well, you know, I thought about that too. It seems like going without a date would be so much more fun, doesn't it? You'll have a great time without some girl hanging all over you." His expression grew even darker. "Tell you what," Ginny said. "I'll save a couple of dances for you."

"A couple?" he asked.

"Two," she clarified.

"Five."

"Three."

"All slow."

"One slow, two fast."

"Two slow."

"Done."

He smiled then, winked at her, and returned to his armchair and textbook. Ginny leaned against the wall and laughed with disbelief. Had she really just bargained away three of her dances at the ball? To Harry? This has been a strange day, she thought, making her way back to her friends.