Miss Hogwarts

Miss Hogwarts

Chapter Eight
On Stiletto Heels

Early on Saturday morning, Hermione sent Hedwig to her parents, asking them to send back the gown she had used last Yule Ball as well as a set of her father’s clothes. It had embarrassed Ron, to put it mildly, when he learned that he was going to wear Hermione’s dad’s clothes for the dance number with Harry. Hedwig had come back from the Burrow the night before with an old pair of Bill’s dragonhide boots, which Ginny had sent for.

Harry, Ron and Hermione spent the rest of the morning eating marmalade on toast and tea at Hagrid’s. Even there, the subject of Miss Hogwarts never ceased to come up—Hagrid in particular sounded most amused.

A grinning Hagrid was pouring them tea on those huge mugs he had. “How’re the rehearsals gettin’ along?” he asked Harry.

“Okay, I guess,” Harry said. “I’m getting the hang of it.”

Which was true. After his embarrassing performance in the first rehearsal, he had improved. Thanks to Ginny and her relentless coaching.

Ginny.

Ron was saying something that was meant to tease Harry, but Harry barely heard him. In his mind’s eye, a freckly fourth-year girl with gorgeous red hair was staring at him wide-eyed as he spoke to her. Then her face was suddenly so very close to his, and the dim light from the torch there on top of the stairs leading to Gryffindor Tower was illuminating her seemingly dazed face—

“Harry? Harry.”

“Huh?” Harry straightened up. “Oh. You were saying?” He hurriedly downed his tea.

Hagrid, Hermione and Ron were looking at him as though he was telling them that he was going to snap his wand in half and live his life as a hermit in the Dursleys’s cupboard.

“Your cheeks are pink,” Ron told him.

Harry could feel his cheeks getting even hotter. He ducked his head, pretending to pour himself another cup of tea, and tried to throw the embarrassment back at Ron. “Why do you notice the most personal things, Ron?”

Hermione choked on her tea. “Harry!”

“You’d better keep an eye on him, Hermione.”

Ron punched Harry’s biceps. “I am not attracted to you, if that’s what you’re getting at!”

Harry rubbed the spot where Ron had punched him. “Then stop touching me!”

Hagrid was shaking in laughter, but Harry could plainly see that Hagrid’s black eyes were glittering knowingly into his direction. Harry tried to shrug, as though asking him what the matter was, but Hagrid simply stood up to gather the dirty plates.

“I’m gatherin’ the pumpkins on Tuesday,” he announced. “Fer Halloween. Miss Hogwarts is still on Halloween, yeh know.”

Harry suddenly realized why the prefects scheduled Miss Hogwarts to coincide with Halloween: the sight of the boys in wigs and gowns was scarier than the most hideous vampire in Transylvania. He almost voiced his thoughts aloud to Hermione, but she was standing up gleefully.

“Can we look at them?” she asked Hagrid.

“I was goin’ to ask yeh that,” Hagrid said. “Come along, then.”

Hagrid led them to his backyard, where his gigantic pumpkins were. Back in his second year he saw a dozen of them, but now there were a dozen more.

Hermione was rolling up her sleeves as she stood in front of the largest pumpkin. “Look at this, Ron. Doesn’t it look great?”

“Would make a great lantern,” Ron agreed.

“No, Ron. This is probably enough to make pumpkin pies for the whole of Gryffindor on Halloween.”

“It’s not enough,” Ron argued. “Besides, aren’t you a bit tired of pumpkin pies every Halloween? It’s like...sausages and eggs every morning.”

“Yes, I am,” huffed Hermione. “That’s why I said it’s probably enough for the whole of Gryffindor—”

Harry watched in amusement as Ron and Hermione bickered, laughed, and basically scrutinized the pumpkin. Hagrid made no move to interrupt them, which was good, Harry thought.

Hagrid bent down towards the pumpkin right beside Harry. “Yeh okay?” he asked.

“Yeah. Of course.” Harry bent his knees so that he was in a sitting position beside Hagrid. Hagrid had pulled out a piece of cloth and was now wiping the surface of the pumpkin. “Why?”

Hagrid’s eyes twinkled. “That look on yer face a while ago—it sort o’ looked familiar, if yeh asked me.”

Wonderful. Even Hagrid was noticing. “What do you mean?” he tried to ask nonchalantly.

“Yeh know very well what I mean, Harry.”

Hagrid was smiling at Ron and Hermione. He had a far-off, bittersweet look on his face. Harry had the impression that Hagrid was thinking of Madame Maxime, the headmistress of Beauxbatons Academy.

“Remember what I told yeh some years ago, abou’ how li’l Ginny Weasley came here and looked at the pumpkins?”

Harry felt himself turn red again. Oh, damn it. Was he being too obvious? How did Hagrid know?

“Comes here fairly often,” Hagrid went on. “Asks me how I’m doin’. I always tease her o’ course.” He let out a chuckle at Harry’s dumbstruck expression. “Now I see yeh blushing, and yeh just reminded me o’ her.”

“So you’re saying we’re beginning to look alike?”

“Nah,” said Hagrid. He proceeded to dust another pumpkin. “Yeh just...I dunno. Sort o’ look like her when we talk abou’ yeh, I think.”

Harry sighed. Hagrid was probably talking about those days when Ginny...well, when she had a crush on him. Which was, as far as Harry was concerned, over and done with. Now Ginny acted like a friend of his—which he was grateful and happy for, of course.

But it seemed as though some sort of karma was playing a joke on him now. For four years he had practically ignored her, and now...only a few weeks after spending so much time with her...he had seen her more clearly, inside and out. And now he was—he couldn’t help but admit it—he was...he was—

“Oh, hey!” Harry suddenly said, standing up, “I’ve got to meet Ginny right now!”

“Huh?” Ron and Hermione looked up at the same time. “Where are you going?”

“Gryffindor Tower,” Harry said. “More practice.”

“You’re spending too much time with my sister,” Ron remarked suspiciously.

“Oh, leave them alone,” Hermione said, waving him off. “He needs to win Miss Hogwarts, remember?”

“Yeah, he does,” Hagrid agreed, nodding. He winked at Harry. “Good luck.”

“Thanks, Hagrid,” said Harry. “See you later.”

Harry picked up his bag inside Hagrid’s hut, then ran flat out across the grounds. He wasn’t sure why he was in such a hurry—if he was excited to see Ginny, or afraid to hear a reprimand coming from her.

After a record-breaking ten minutes, he reached their dormitory. Ginny was already there, sitting by the door with a book open on her lap, smiling up at him.

Harry leaned on the wall, panting. “Hey,” he gasped. “You done with homework?”

“Just finished. You all right?” she asked. Her forehead knotted worriedly.

“Yeah—just let me catch my breath—”

Ginny slid her book into her backpack. Harry noticed that it was the book Hermione had from fourth-year Arithmancy, although Ginny’s copy was more battered. Ginny then took out a magazine with a pretty blonde gracing the cover.

Ginny saw him looking at it. She held it up. “Teen Witch,” she said. “Parvati lent it to me. It’s very helpful.”

Harry doubted it. He opened the door to their dormitory anyway, and held out a hand to help Ginny up.

Ginny took his hand and pulled herself up. Then, all to suddenly, he felt a slight shiver run up his arm. Her hand was soft, softer than he had imagined—and it had felt great.

He must have held her hand too long. Ginny grinned at him in a way he couldn’t make out, then pulled her hand out of his.

Smooth, Potter, Harry told himself sarcastically. He opened the door a little wider to let Ginny in. Then, when she had thrown her things on Ron’s bed, he closed the door.

They were alone again.

Ginny flipped open the magazine and approached Harry. “Ready for new lessons?”

Something in the tone of Ginny’s voice made him think that what she was going to teach was interesting—for her only. “I think so,” said Harry.

“Well, here it is.” She handed Harry the magazine.

Harry looked at the title of the article. “‘Be Bewitching: Five Ways to Turn Boys’ Heads Your Way’,” he said aloud. Then he looked at Ginny warily. “I have a feeling I’m not going to enjoy this lesson.”

“Oh, don’t be silly,” said Ginny, grinning widely. “You will.”

* * *

1. Use your lips. Pout. Smile.

“Your mouth must be slightly open,” Ginny told Harry. Ginny put her thumb sideways between her front teeth, then removed it without closing her mouth. She put a hand on her waist and smiled, showing off her teeth.

He had to admit, it looked pretty on her.

“Smile with your mouth open,” Harry confirmed doubtfully.

“Come on, it will work! Try it.”

Harry attempted to imitate her. He bit his thumb, removed his hand, then smiled.

“It’s like you’re asking me whether you look okay,” Ginny commented. “Smile, Harry. You’re in front of an audience. Be a girl.”

Harry tried again. Be a girl, he reminded himself. He smiled again, and added a flutter of eyelashes for good measure.

“Oh, I love it, Harry,” Ginny said. “Now, how about a mysterious, seductive smile?”

“How’s that?” Harry asked.

“Well...” For a while, Ginny looked doubtful. Then she turned her head sideways, letting her hair fall on her sides, and gave him a half-smile. Her eyes, visible between the vivid strands of her hair, were ardent, beckoning.

She looked so seductive that Harry had to swallow his heart back to his chest.

“Got it?”

“I...think so,” Harry stuttered.

“Just think about...you know, seducing the audience.” Ginny chuckled.

Seducing the audience with his smile. All right, now that wasn’t so hard. He had an audience right now after all, and it was Ginny...

Almost involuntarily, he gave her a half-smile.

“Harry, that smile was one for the girls,” Ginny said flatly.

“Oh.”

If Harry had looked harder, he would have seen Ginny swallowing in the way he had.

2. Toss your head. Show off your hair.

“You know I hate this thing,” Harry said, holding the blonde wig.

“It’ll look great on you,” Ginny assured him. She pulled a chair in front of her. “Come here.”

Reluctantly, Harry sat on the chair.

“Hold still now.”

Ginny placed the wig on Harry’s head. Then he felt something sharp—a hairpin—being stuck into his hair—

“AAAAARGH!”

“Sorry, sorry...I’m trying to do it as painlessly as I can—”

After a long minute, the wig was in place. “Better?” asked Ginny.

“Not really,” said Harry, wincing at the pins that seemed to be drilling little holes through his skull. “But I can manage. So I’ll just...toss my head like that?”

“And show off your hair.”

How can anyone show off this hair? he wondered. But he obliged, anyway. He turned his back on Ginny, then whirled around, flipping his head so that the wig was tossed from one side of his head to another. Then he gave Ginny the open-mouthed smile.

“Oh my goodness,” Ginny said, shaking her head in wonder. “Why didn’t I show this magazine to you a long time ago?”

3. Look vivacious. Boys love girls who are full of life.

“We do?”

“Apparently, you do,” Ginny replied, grinning. “So remember, look really lively. Stifle your yawns, and look like you’re really enjoying the show.”

“That sounds impossible.”

“Oh, come on, you have to!” Ginny insisted. “Just...try to imagine that you’ve already won, and you’re showing off to Malfoy.”

Harry grinned. “I can do that,” he said. He tossed his head again so that his wig was flown around. He wrinkled his nose and put his hand on his hips. “You’ll eat your words, Malfoy,” he said in his girl voice.

Ginny’s laughter rung beautifully in the room. “Harry, you’re going to win,” she told him, beaming. Then she winked. “Malfoy will eat his words, I swear.”

4. Walk with your chin up, looking the world in the face.

Ginny looked doubtful as she read the instructions.

“Something wrong?” asked Harry.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Ginny said. “I don’t think I can manage what this article’s asking, let alone teach you.”

“Want to bet?” Harry asked.

Ginny stared at him, then rolled her eyes as she stood up. “Well, it says to keep your feet in line...like this...”

Harry watched Ginny as she demonstrated The Walk. She went to the other side of the room so that she was facing him. She threw her shoulders back, lifted her chin, gave him a half-smile, and walked towards him.

Harry stared at her, as though he trying to process all that she was trying to show him, but eventually all he could do was to admire her gait. His eyes fell down to her legs, slender and eye-catching. Why did the girls have to wear short skirts? Come to think of it, though, it was a good thing, especially on Ginny...

When Ginny reached him, she sighed and slumped her shoulders. “It wasn’t perfect, but maybe you can do better.”

“I thought you were great,” Harry blurted out. He suddenly felt stupid for saying so.

Ginny gave him a small smile. “Try it, now. Face that mirror. I’ll walk with you.”

Harry went to Neville’s part of the dormitory so that he was at a distance from the full-length mirror near Seamus’s bed. Ginny stood by him, then walked towards the mirror. Harry traced her footsteps—then, after getting the hang of it, he looked up at his own reflection.

He was good at this, he realized. When he was directly in front of the mirror, he did a twirl, placed both hands on his waist elegantly, and smiled.

It was plain in Ginny’s smile that he had done well.

5. Most of all, do all of these naturally.

Ginny closed the magazine and shook her head in impressed disbelief. “You know what?”

“What?”

Her brown eyes were glittering as she looked up at Harry. Then, to his utter surprise, she threw her arms around his waist and embraced him from his side.

“I don’t think I have to teach you anything,” she said, her cheeks pressed against his shoulder. “You’re a natural. In the contest, just do what you did just now and you’ll be all right.”

Harry didn’t hear what she had said. In fact, all thoughts of Miss Hogwarts—and everything else—had flown out of his mind in an instant. He was concentrating on how good she smelled, how pliant she felt, and how wonderful it would be if she could hold him like this for a long, long time.

She did.

* * *

“Hermione,” Harry said in a tight voice.

“Yes?”

“Why—ow, Ginny!—why do you have such—a—AGH!—small—waist?”

Ginny, Hermione and Ron chuckled in unison. “Just hold still,” Ginny told him from behind. She took out her wand and pointed it on Hermione’s periwinkle ball gown. “Expandere.”

Ginny heard Harry let out the air he seemed to have been holding for a long time. She had used the Expanding Charm to widen Hermione’s gown on his waist. She would fix it back later. “Does it fit all right now?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Harry said.

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny were hidden inside the curtains Hermione had conjured for Harry to fit her gown in. When Harry found that he couldn’t put the gown on himself, like many other paraphernalia for women, he had called them for help.

They had all agreed that Harry should wear Hermione’s gown and stiletto heels (which Ginny also had to enlarge) on the dress rehearsal on Sunday night. The surprise would be ruined if the other contestants got an early glimpse of “Harry’s beauty in that green gown,” as Ginny had put it.

No, he wasn’t wearing the snot balloons yet.

Hermione had let Ron come with them on that last rehearsal, so that he could get the feel of the contest, which was two days away. Ron hadn’t shown any signs of nerves yet, thankfully.

Harry had pointed out that it could be a bad sign.

“Come on now, everyone,” Hermione called them, peeking out of the curtains. “They’re ready.”

Ginny shoved Harry’s robes into her bag. Hermione gave her wand a wave. The curtains disappeared, and they suddenly had a view of the other contestants.

Justin was wearing a peach gown that looked too short for him. He looked extremely uncomfortable. Roger, meanwhile, had on a slinky fuchsia gown that showed off his bulky muscles horribly. The sight was painful to the eyes.

Malfoy was in a glittering light blue gown, just a degree lighter than Hermione’s. His silvery hair was lengthened so that it reached straight down to his waist. And—Ginny’s eyes widened—he had on...

Ron was gawping at Malfoy. “Are those...water balloons?”

Ginny’s first thought was that Malfoy would be too embarrassed to approach them, sneer and all, but she found that she underestimated him. Comical as it looked, Malfoy swaggered towards them, his chests heaving. Too liquid, Ginny thought. Obviously, they were indeed made of water.

Ginny and Hermione had to hide behind Ron and Harry to smother their giggles.

“You look beautiful, Malfoy,” said Ron in a strangled voice that indicated that he was also preventing himself from laughing.

“You’re looking good, too, Weasel,” Malfoy said, turning up his nose. “Are those new robes? What did you do to afford it, sell your house?”

Malfoy would have passed very well for a stereotyped uptown girl, Ginny thought. Blonde, pretty, bitchy, stuck-up and everything else.

“I hope you paid heed to my advice, Potter,” said Malfoy.

“I don’t need it,” Harry replied calmly. “I’m perfectly okay without it.”

Malfoy smirked. “We’ll see about that.”

Ginny watched Malfoy swagger towards the stage, where Pansy was waiting. Harry was glaring at him.

“I’d like to see those water balloons burst on his face onstage,” Ginny declared. “Just hope he didn’t put a Reinforcement Charm on them.”

Harry leaned close to Ginny’s ear. “Watch me,” he murmured.

Not taking his eyes off Malfoy, Harry followed him, and although he was in stiletto heels and a ball gown, he was still walking in his usual boyish gait—large steps, slumped shoulders, slightly swinging arms. To Ginny’s amusement, he didn’t seem to have any problems with the high heels.

“He’s too cute,” Ginny muttered.

Ron looked at her. “Who, Malfoy?”

Hermione and Ginny rolled their eyes at him. “Ron,” Ginny said pointedly, “I’m seriously doubting your preferences.”

The first part of the dress rehearsal was, of course, the entrance. Ginny had watched the boys do it for almost a week now, but it was different when they were all wearing gowns.

The music started. Harry, Justin, Roger and Malfoy began to dance onstage. Harry, she noticed, was at his element. He seemed to have learned a lot in their lessons yesterday morning. And when he did the open-mouthed smile, Ginny had opened her mouth in shocked amusement, and Ron had exclaimed “bloody hell.”

But something was wrong.

It took a while for Ginny to point out what the problem was. Harry seemed to feel uncomfortable in his gown. And he seemed to be showing off, especially to Malfoy at his side, instead of really enjoying the experience. She made a mental note to tell Harry about it later.

Hermione and Betty were calling out cues for them. “All right, Draco,” Betty called. “Front!”

Malfoy began to prance towards the front—but all of a sudden, he tripped on something...and fell facedown on the stage with two sounds, one of which Ginny was already well-acquainted with: thud and pop.

Everyone in the Great Hall heard Malfoy let out a very rude exclamation. He stood up, and everyone was in plain sight of a dark, rapidly expanding stain on Malfoy’s chest.

“POTTER!” Malfoy shouted, jabbing a finger towards Harry. “HE TRIPPED ME!”

If Harry hadn’t whispered something to Ginny before he went onstage, she would have believed he was innocent. “I didn’t do anything,” he said lightly. His face was straight.

“YOU—!” An endless string of cuss words came out of Malfoy’s mouth as he reached for something inside his gown and threw in on the stage. It was something blue. One of the discarded balloons.

“Why,” Ginny heard Cho ask aloud, “is he wearing water balloons on rehearsals?”

“Always use Reinforcement Charms, Malfoy!” Ron yelled, grinning widely.

Justin and Roger were laughing so hard on the other side of the stage that they were clutching their stomachs. Malfoy, looking murderous, stormed down the stage and snatched his wand from a shocked Pansy.

As Malfoy placed a Drying Charm on his gown, a grinning Harry called out: “Constant vigilance, Malfoy, what can I say?”

Ginny caught Harry wink at her very discreetly. She was laughing so hard now that she had to grip Ron’s arm to prevent herself from falling.

* * *

Harry met Ginny right after the rehearsal. Sitting on the stage with her feet dangling towards the floor, she grinned at him mischievously as he approached her, but refrained from saying anything while Malfoy was there, eyeing him viciously.

“My feet are killing me,” Harry moaned.

“Well, come on,” Ginny said, shifting a bit so that Harry could sit beside her, which he did. Their thighs barely brushed due to the thick layers of fabric in Hermione’s gown.

He saw a scowling Malfoy, already back in his Slytherin robes but still with the long hair, leave with Slevin and Pansy Parkinson. Harry promptly removed the stiletto shoes and hiked up the balloon skirt so that he could massage his heels. “Where’s Ron?” he asked Ginny.

“I don’t know,” Ginny replied, shrugging. She was waving back at Roger and Cho who followed the Slytherins out. “One moment he and Hermione were just behind me, then they suddenly disappeared.”

“I’m not going to ask what they’re probably doing right now.”

Ginny laughed. It was moments like these with Ginny that Harry loved the most—when the two of them could talk freely and have a laugh without the pressure of Miss Hogwarts bearing down on them.

There was a sly twinkle in Ginny’s eyes. “So what gave you the idea to trip Malfoy like that?”

“I didn’t do anything!” Harry insisted. Then, when Ginny’s eyebrows didn’t go back down, he grinned. “Actually it was all thanks to the snot balloons.”

They both laughed out loud, which made Justin and Hannah look their way curiously.

“Erm,” Harry mumbled, waving a hand, “don’t mind us.”

Justin grinned at him in what was unmistakably a meaningful manner.

Harry turned back to Ginny. Hugging her backpack close to her chest, she seemed oblivious to Justin’s signal. Instead, she was looking at Harry’s face in amusement.

Harry suddenly felt self-conscious—he was still wearing the silly wig, after all. “What?”

“Nothing,” Ginny replied. “I was just thinking of how well you did tonight.”

“Was I okay?”

Ginny gazed at him, as though pondering. “I don’t know,” she admitted after a while. “You did what we practiced this week and all, but there seemed to be something missing—”

“‘Bye, you two,” Hannah called.

Harry and Ginny waved at her and Justin. Justin, still giving Harry that knowing grin, winked at him.

“As you were saying,” Harry said, silently noting that he and Ginny were all alone in the Great Hall, “what was missing?”

“You didn’t look too…enthusiastic.”

Harry knotted his forehead in confusion. “I thought I was.”

“Not really. You were just showing off to Malfoy. I say, just enjoy being here.” She motioned to the stage. “You seemed a bit uncomfortable, too.”

“Well, for one thing,” Harry said, pulling the long tendrils of the wig back, “this thing is itchy.”

Ginny looked at him, tilting her head on one side, as though scrutinizing Harry’s face. Her hair fell on one side of her face. Shining copper-red in the torchlight, her hair looked so...so beautiful, and he fought the urge to tuck it behind her ear.

Then suddenly Ginny looked energized. Her brown eyes flashed intelligently. “You know what?” she asked, setting the backpack down. “Blonde hair doesn’t suit you.”

“I take that as a compliment,” Harry said seriously.

“Ha ha. Hold still—I’m removing your wig.”

Harry kept still as Ginny reached up to remove the pins that held the wig in place. She moved deftly, at the same time doing so without causing as much pain as possible, as though she had already done it many times before.

If putting the wig on was difficult, removing it was relatively easy. In seconds, Ginny had set aside the wig…but she didn’t remove her hands from his head. Harry suddenly felt tingles on his skin as her fingers combed the fringe on his forehead, lightly touching his scar, in a vain attempt to flatten his hair.

“I know,” she said softly as she leaned back to look at him. “Maybe I can ask around for a Hair-Growing Potion—you know that one?” When Harry shook his head no, she reached up a hand again to lightly clear his forehead of stray hair again. “It’ll make your hair grow to a desired length, then it’ll turn back to its normal length after a while. We can curl the ends a bit, if you want. You know, I think that’s what Malfoy used today.”

Harry wasn’t listening anymore. He was staring at her eyes, while inside him, a tumult of emotions raged wildly. Her touch, and the unbearable lightness of it, was slowly driving him out of his wits.

“And maybe we should remove this.” Ginny’s hand tugged at his glasses.

It was all too much; it was killing him. Harry caught her hand in his before she could take his glasses off. She looked into his eyes questioningly—but the expression on her face suddenly turned into one of surprise.

The way she looked at him, it was as though his whole being was open to her, as though she could see him right through—what went on inside him, what he wanted, what he meant to do. The torches in the Great Hall were reflected in her eyes so that they looked like little orange pinpricks in pools of sepia. He wasn’t able to take his eyes off them for a while.

When he was finally able to, he found himself mesmerized by another feature on her face. His gaze had fallen on her pink, full, slightly parted lips. Something warm wafted to his lips—then he realized it was her breath.

Harry slipped his fingers between Ginny’s. They fit perfectly, her slender fingers between his larger ones. Using his other hand, he tucked several strands of her hair behind her ear. With his instincts as his only guide, he traced her jaw line with his thumb, finally resting on her chin. Her lips were right there, slightly parted, as though waiting.

This, he thought, was what he had wanted to do since Monday night.

The tips of their noses were almost brushing now. Watching her eyes, he leaned closer, waiting for consent from her.

She closed them.

And Harry closed the distance between him and Ginny.

Harry knew what was coming, but actually feeling it happen shocked him. He kissed her, tentatively at first—he felt the slightest pressure of Ginny’s lips against his, followed by a sigh from her. He felt small tremors throughout his body. His eyes fluttered closed...and he kissed her again. And again. Light, intoxicating kisses on the lips, all of them.

When Harry looked at her face again, her eyes were closed, her lips parted, as though letting the feeling sink in. And when she opened her eyes, the dazed glitter in them told him all that he needed to know.

Ginny’s arms circled his waist just as he cupped her face in his hands. He somehow knew what to do. He tilted his head on one side and fit his mouth on hers. His mind had already lost hold of him. Then, as though it wasn’t enough, Ginny’s lips parted beneath his and kissed him back.

Harry involuntarily shivered; he had never thought anything could feel as painfully, exquisitely wonderful as this. Then his hands were buried in her hair, and hers were gently kneading his shoulders, and everything that wasn’t Ginny dissolved from his consciousness. For a long, long while, they kissed, shallowly breathing, gently exploring, uncovering new emotions that even in his fantasies didn’t exist.

Then, gasping for breath, they pulled away from each other.

Ginny gazed back at him—her eyes were wide and wild; her hands were clutching the fabric of his gown.

They couldn’t stop now. He didn’t want to stop. Harry pulled her again for another searing kiss—but Ginny’s hands pressed against his chest. Harry looked up at her face—and blinked at the sudden change of expression.

Ginny was looking panicked—very unlike the way she looked just a moment ago. Harry’s stomach gave a sickening lurch. She wouldn’t—or would she...?

The worst thing that could happen at that moment came true.

“I...I have to go,” Ginny gasped.

Harry’s heart sank. “But...why?”

Ginny didn’t answer. She had already straightened up and ran her hands through her disheveled hair. Her face very red, she picked up her backpack and stuttered, “I...Harry, I’m really sorry—”

With a last panicked, apologetic look, she tore out of the Great Hall.

Even after Ginny had disappeared from his sight, Harry stared at the big double doors in disbelief, trying to take in what had just happened.

He had just kissed Ginny Weasley.

He loved it. Oh, how he loved it.

And she ran away.

What the hell?

This was too...weird. And insane.

He had to go back to his dormitory. No, to Gryffindor Tower. He had to see Ginny—and ask her a lot of questions. No, wait. First, he needed to make sense of everything. He hopped off the stage, and immediately winced—his bare feet had hit the cold floor.

Harry searched the Great Hall for his shoes and robes, but the only clothing item left there was the stiletto heels.

Then he realized that all his clothes were inside Ginny’s backpack.

Damn.

So much for his first kiss.

Harry snatched up Hermione’s shoes, strapped them on his feet, and went back to Gryffindor Tower as fast as the gown and stiletto heels would take him.