The Bargain

Chapter Four - Twelve Days, Part Two: Best Foot Forward

August 1, 1997

Harry stopped on the pinnacle of the small hill that overlooked both the paddock and the Burrow on the Weasleys' property. Ginny was walking jauntily down the worn path and he caught snatches of her voice carrying across the lazy afternoon meadow, singing something light and happy. He leaned against a nearby ash tree and simply watched her.

That is, until he felt the presence of four people behind him. Whirling around, Harry came face to face with a wall of red hair.

"Hiya, Harry," said Fred and George in unison.

Behind Fred and George were Bill and Charlie - all four wore large grins, but something in their eyes told Harry the good humour wouldn't last past the first few minutes of their encounter.

"Hi, guys," Harry said slowly. "Beautiful afternoon, isn't it?"

"Not as pretty as our sister, though," Bill added as he cracked his knuckles menacingly. "Wouldn't you say?"

Harry sized-up the eldest Weasley as Fred and George moved to either side of Harry's peripheral vision. Bill and Charlie advanced a few steps, forcing Harry backwards.

"No," Harry ventured. "Not as pretty as Ginny. Then again, not much is."

Bill turned to Charlie and said, "Ickle Harry isn't so ickle any more, is he?"

"All grown up," Charlie replied as they continued to force Harry backwards. "But we can't just let him dicker with Ginny's love life, can we?"

"I reckon not. We'd be piss-poor brothers if we didn't do something about it."

They had been advancing on him the whole time, Fred and George keeping up with him on his sides. Harry nearly tripped over a piece of wood, but recovered before he fell.

"Listen, guys," Harry began, his hands held akimbo. "Ginny and I have an understanding. Everything's all right between us, now."

"I'll just bet it is," Fred said with a scowl.

"Probably already got a look at her knickers, I'd say," George added. "Judging by the soppy look on his face."

"N-No!" Harry spluttered. "We're going to date and see how things work out between us. That's all, I swear! We haven't even kissed!"

Harry was so distracted by their verbal assault, he barely noticed that the ground had given way to rough wood planking that sounded hollow underneath their many footsteps.

Bill nodded and they all took out their wands. Harry's fear instantly tripled.

"Guys..." Harry pleaded, his voice cracking a little. "We can be reasonable about this, right?"

Harry looked from Bill to Charlie, all the while stepping back from their outstretched wands, as their eyes glinting in the reds and oranges of sunset. They jabbed their wands at Harry's mid-section. The tip of Bill's wand began to glow and then sparked.

Acting on instinct alone, Harry turned and bolted - right into the pond.

Harry's feet were still pumping when he hit the water and the shock of it forced him to take in a mouthful of water. His glasses were pinned to his head because of their size, and thankfully, weren't dislodged by his impromptu dive.

By the time Harry reached shore, the Weasley brothers were rolling around on the dock in laughter. Fred and George were giving each other high-fives and Bill looked at Harry with a mixture of pity and pride. He called out to Harry as they all started to walk towards the Burrow.

"Keep yourself cool around our sister, Harry - or we might have to douse your hormones again."

Harry wrung out his shirt and emptied the water from his shoes, then, as the fear left him completely, gave out a loud guffaw. "It's not me you've got to worry about, Bill!" he yelled, but they had already gone.

When Harry got back to the house, squelching and squishing as he walked, he found no sign of Ginny's brothers, but instead, both of her parents, Remus, and Dumbledore talking at the kitchen table.

"Harry!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed upon seeing him dripping on her floor. "What on earth happened to you?"

Harry thought quickly, trying to come up with a plausible reason for his sodden state. "Um, I tripped and fell into the pond." It wasn't completely untrue, anyway.

Dumbledore's eyebrows were threatening to levitate off his face.

"Well, go get a hot bath, dear," Molly said reassuringly. "Then fetch Ginny for me. We need to go over some details with you."

Catching Remus' eye, Harry noticed a repressed grin on the Marauder's face and resolved then that his future brothers-in-law would not get away with their prank.

*

Sitting on her bed, reading one of the many romance novels her mother had banned - but read herself - Ginny reflected on her afternoon with Harry. Things could scarcely have gone better, in her estimation. He was nervous but interested, respecting and trusting - but didn't give her the slightest indication he was pursuing her out of duty. That was the quickest way to get Ginny's ire up - to pretend interest when other motivations were the real reason - as it had been with Michael Corner.

Ginny knew in the back of her mind that two of Harry's biggest character strengths would be pitted against each other because of their impending marriage. He was honest to a fault, and would sooner marry Millicent Bulstrode than fake a romance. However, his sense of duty would compel him to try to make Ginny feel loved even if he didn't really love her, just because it would be the right thing to do.

Harry's actions that afternoon hadn't been out of duty, however. Ginny could tell by the way he looked at her, by the thrill of excitement that caused her stomach to quiver when she saw the desire in his eyes. It was plain that he was at least attracted to her, and that was all Ginny needed for now. They would just have to see where the next week and a half would take them.

Someone knocked on her door and Ginny was instantly brought back to the present. Only one person in the house would knock on her door.

"Come in, Harry," she said as she put her bookmark in the fold and set the book face-down on her cluttered desk.

The door slowly creaked open and a head topped with a mop of jet-black hair peeked inside. "Ginny?" His voice was tentative and nervous, just as it had been on the swing.

"I won't bite you, Harry. You can come in, just leave the door open."

Harry chuckled briefly and took a hesitant step inside. "Your - uh...mum wanted us to go downstairs. They wanted to talk to us about something, or another." Harry hadn't looked at her as he spoke and was holding his hands behind his back. "Wonder what it could be?" he said with a demure smile, finally making eye-contact.

Ginny grinned back at him and took his hand, noticing how hot and sweaty it was. "Probably something about a wedding," Ginny quipped. "Mum's been intolerable since last night. Going on and on about daffodils and chiffon dresses."

"Really?" Harry asked genuinely. "She's not still upset, then?"

"No, but Dad doesn't know that, yet." Ginny let out a giggle and then said, "He's still sleeping on the couch."

A thousand emotions played across Harry's face - going from humour to sadness. "I'm really sorry for all of this, Ginny. I wish it didn't have to happen this way."

Narrowing her eyes, Ginny tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear and asked, "What do you mean?"

"It's the whole schedule, Ginny. I hate seeing what it's doing to your family." He hesitated for a moment, giving Ginny's hand a squeeze, and said, "Especially you. Getting to know you is grand; I just wish we had a different schedule."

Just the thought that Harry would still be so concerned with her feelings, made something tremble inside her. "That's awfully sweet of you, Harry, but I know you didn't engineer this."

Harry shook his head and let go of her hand. "It's not just that. I know you said you still have feelings for me, but I have to wonder how different things would have turned out had we been able to do things normally." He paced over to her closet and rested his head against the door.

"I don't understand," Ginny said, her heart skipping a beat. "Do you mean you would have asked me out anyway?"

Harry turned to look at her and nodded. "Eventually - I'm not exactly good at understanding things like that, myself, but I would have ended up here eventually. Then when all of this happened," he said with a dramatic sweep of his hands, "it sort of forced me to realise that I've fancied you for a while."

"Really?" Ginny asked with wonder in her voice. "You really mean it?"

"Of course," Harry replied. "We've been friends for a while now; you've got a quick wit and are as stubborn as a mule..." He stopped when she glared at him, and placed his hands on her shoulders. "Hey, stubborn is good if you have to deal with me, remember? You are a pretty girl, Ginny. I was bound to notice sooner or later - I may be thick, but I would have come around eventually."

Ginny hesitated, still cross about the mule comment, but so completely happy that he had already been considering her as something more than just a friend. She jumped over to Harry and captured him in a hug, squeezing him for all she was worth. "Oh, Harry. You've made me so happy!"

Harry gave her an awkward pat on the back and said with a nervous stutter, "We, uh...better get downstairs. They'll be wondering where we are."

Ginny withdrew slowly, trying not to get distracted by the warm soapy smell he was exuding. "Yeah, you're right."

Harry took a step back and motioned for her to exit first.

The bubble of happiness still lingering inside her, Ginny stepped over the threshold and turned back to wait for him.

"Oh, and Ginny?" Harry asked. "I'm going to need your help with a little project involving your brothers."

Her lips pressed together and Ginny asked, "Is that right? What have they done now?"

"I'll tell you after our meeting. Suffice it to say, they think my intentions towards you aren't entirely honourable."

With a gleam in her eye, Ginny took Harry's hand again and proceeded down the stairs. "We'll just see about that."

*

Taking the steps slowly, Harry savoured the tingles Ginny had left around his middle when she had hugged him and tried very hard to not stumble.

In the kitchen, the privacy charm still in place, Harry saw his Head of House had joined the discussion in the seat that Dumbledore had recently occupied. Arthur and Molly were next to Professor McGonagall, while Remus sat on the other side at the end, leaving two adjoining seats for Harry and Ginny.

Harry pushed through the quiet space, feeling a tug as he passed the barrier and then pulled out a chair for Ginny, and sat beside her.

"Good evening, Mr. Potter," McGonagall said affably. "Professor Dumbledore had to leave on urgent Order business, but he promised to return shortly. I'll be standing in for him in this discussion."

Harry and Ginny both nodded and waited for their Professor to continue.

"Well, this is a fine mess you've landed in," McGonagall began, her hands folded primly on the table. "Your guardians have just filled me in on most of the details, but I'm afraid I simply can't wrap my mind around it." She paused and let out a quick breath. "The purpose of this meeting is to arrange for the wedding details, and..."

"But Professor," Ginny interrupted. "Harry hasn't even proposed yet."

Harry's head fell to the table and McGonagall cleared her throat. "Is this true, Mr. Potter?"

Looking guiltily at Ginny, he noticed she was pinching her lips between her teeth and her eyes were dancing. "Yes, but it is on my to-do list, Professor," Harry replied.

"Very well; I expect that to be remedied shortly. I assume you are planning on going through with the wedding, rather than the alternative?"

Ginny nodded. "Oh, yes, Professor, Harry and I would rather avoid that particular aspect of the arrangement."

For some reason, Harry was sure that Ginny was enjoying this meeting far too much, especially as it pertained to making him sweat.

"Then I suspect you've discussed the wedding date?"

Harry and Ginny caught each other's eye and Harry spoke up. "No, Professor. Since the deadline is on Ginny's birthday, I didn't want to presume to take her special day away from her."

Ginny gaped at Harry while Molly muttered something under her breath that sounded like, "Such a good boy."

"But Harry and I did discuss the fact that we wanted to take as long as possible to prepare for the wedding," Ginny added, still looking at Harry. "I don't mind sharing my birthday with him." She suddenly covered Harry's hand on the table and gave it a squeeze. Harry had a feeling that this squeeze was very different from the one out on the swing just a short while ago.

McGonagall looked between both teens and said, "So it will be on the eleventh, then?"

"Yes," they chorused together, and then Ginny added with an innocent grin, "Assuming Harry proposes, of course."

Harry rolled his eyes and leaned close to Ginny's ear. "I get the point - there will be a proposal." He was satisfied to see her shiver as his breath licked her neck and her hand shot from off of his to cover it from further attack.

Seeming to be completely oblivious to the interaction between Harry and Ginny, McGonagall continued on, reading from a piece of parchment. "You'll need to consider who you want at the wedding, send out invitations, contract catering, music, and arrange for clothing. I must tell you that short-notice weddings such as this are very expensive."

"I've got the means to pay; money's not a problem," Harry said.

Still rubbing at her neck, Ginny said, "Well, that's a relief."

McGonagall's lips remained as thin as ever. "The next item we need to discuss is your accommodations at Hogwarts. The school has a strict policy against matriculating married students, but given the special nature of your situation, the Board of Governors has authorised your attendance this year, Mr. Potter, and for the next two for you, Miss Weasley."

With a confused look, Ginny asked, "So what does that mean for us?"

Harry was curious as well, hoping that McGonagall wasn't suggesting that they stay apart from one another.

"It means," McGonagall continued, "that you can finish your schooling, if certain conditions are met. First of all, you will each remain in your own dormitories."

"No," Ginny said firmly.

"What do you mean 'no'?" McGonagall queried.

"I mean absolutely not," Ginny exclaimed. "This isn't a sham that we're working on - if I'm going to be married, I'm going to act like it. I'm not going to be living apart from my husband. It's impractical, and it demeans us as individuals and our relationship. It's just plain wrong." Harry was amused to note the colour change in Ginny's face before she spoke, as if he could tell she was about to explode.

Interestingly enough, Molly now matched her daughter's expression, though Harry guessed it was for a different reason. "Watch your tongue, Ginny Weasley," she said. "You will show Professor McGonagall the respect her position deserves."

"No, Mum, I'm not being disrespectful, I'm just not rolling over like a little girl being sent to her room," Ginny countered. "I'm not going to budge on this. If we're going to be married, then we're going to act like a married couple. That means we sleep in the same bed."

Harry didn't know if it was the determined look on her face, or if it was a product of his admiration for Ginny's principles, but something changed in his regard for her then, and he knew he had to support her. "I agree," he ventured. "We should stay together." He reached out an arm around Ginny's shoulders and pulled her close.

Ginny smiled at him and Harry noticed Remus was nodding at them.

"Very well," McGonagall conceded. "I was told that you might feel this way and have been authorized to offer you an alternative."

A small pop announced someone Apparating and Dumbledore's kind face appeared behind McGonagall. With a flourish of his wand, he expanded the silent space and Harry was shocked to actually see the air change to an electric green as it moved.

Dumbledore replaced his wand in his robes and said, "I trust things are proceeding well?"

McGonagall stood to relinquish her seat back to her superior. "Sit, sit, Minerva," Dumbledore said. "I've been on my backside for far too long today as it is."

The younger professor reluctantly sat and Dumbledore folded his hands. "I've just gone through the list and we're discussing arrangements at Hogwarts," McGonagall said.

"Ah, yes," Dumbledore said airily. "And they refused your first option, I assume."

"As you predicted, Albus."

"Good, very good." Dumbledore locked his twinkling blue eyes on Harry and for a split second, Harry felt a surge of pride from the elderly professor leap across the room. "We will be preparing a special suite of rooms for you. Entry will be off of the Gryffindor common room. While you will be living together as husband and wife, you will have to be apart for classes, I'm afraid."

Ginny nodded and said, "I can live with that."

"Excellent," McGonagall announced. "Then the last thing we need to discuss is..."

In the middle of her sentence, a fire crackled to life in the kitchen and a brown-haired witch tumbled out onto the floor, her arms loaded with books.

"Hello, Professors," Hermione said when she righted herself. "Is this a good time to interrupt? I've got loads to tell you."

"Be our guest," Professor Dumbledore offered graciously.

There were several more books floating behind her and Harry marvelled at them. "The Ministry Librarian charmed them to follow me through the Floo network," Hermione explained as she dumped her load of books onto the table.

"Hermione," Harry exclaimed. "You looked at all these books...for us?"

Beaming, Hermione patted him on the shoulder. "I can't imagine what you must be going through, Harry. It's what any friend would do. Besides, it was just a bit of light research."

Harry and Ginny laughed and were soon joined by the rest of the room's occupants.

"So what did you find?" Remus was sitting on the front of his chair in anticipation, asking the very question on everyone's mind.

"Not a whole lot, I'm afraid." Hermione reached down for the largest book and opened it to a marked page. "Here's the text of the Decree. It goes on for pages, but the part about Arranged marriages is here." She pointed to a spot of tightly written text a third of the way down the page.

Harry squinted at it and then looked around the room at all the expectant faces. "Hermione, we can't all read this, can't you just tell us what it means?"

The wry grin on Hermione's face gave way to a knowing smile. "I thought you might say that." She produced a bundle of parchment and began to leaf through it. "It outlines the legal requirements that must be met before the arrangement can be considered binding, which you already know. There is a section on courtship that was modified by an amendment in 1813, which - you'll be thankful to hear - also removed a provision for the marriage to be annulled after one year, if there are no legal heirs produced in that time."

"Well, that's a relief," Harry blurted, "twelve days to get married and then twelve months to produce an heir - nah, no pressure at all."

Ginny glared at him, but Hermione continued before she could say anything. "The ceremony itself is called the Reflection Ceremony, and binds the wizard and witch together with a spell."

"That sounds intriguing," Arthur piped in. "What exactly is entailed with that?"

"The procedure itself is straightforward," Hermione explained, "as is the spell. It's the spell's effects that are difficult to understand - it depends on the magic of the pair being married."

Harry thought about Ginny and how their whole world was about to change, and then said, "I'm assuming you didn't find a way to void the contract?"

Ginny's foot pressed into Harry's under the table and he turned to face her. "What?"

She didn't answer, but folded her arms across her chest and stared at the wall.

Harry sighed and looked to Remus, who, for some strange reason, was repressing the urge to laugh.

"There is one more thing, Harry, Ginny," Hermione said, pulling out yet another book. "In 1154, there was another provision added to the statute. Apparently, they were having problems with wizards sowing their wild oats before getting married to their arranged partner, and a few witches as well. So they made it a condition of the agreement that pre-marital intimacy be restricted to a set of very limited acts."

Hermione's cheeks were glowing as she flipped through her notes for a specific page and pushed it over to Ginny.

When they were done reading, Harry and Ginny caught each other's eye, sporting matching blushes, and handed the paper back to Hermione.

"That's quite...descriptive," Ginny said. "What happens if we try anything more?"

"Well, before the Reflection Ceremony, the same hexes that would prevent you from being intimate with anyone else also apply to your own relationship. The major hexes only activate if you deviate from the list, or don't get married. The pre-marital intimacy clause only activates the hexes for a short time - about five minutes, but will be lifted after you...um, cool off."

Harry folded his hands and tried desperately to not look mortified. Bills' parting words that evening echoed in his mind.

Beside him, Ginny seemed to have an epiphany. "So that's what happened with Dean," she exclaimed, then promptly clapped a hand over her mouth.

"What do you mean?" Mrs. Weasley said at once. "What were you doing with Dean Thomas that would have tripped this hex? Hermione, let me see that list at once."

Now it was Ginny's turn to be mortified. "Nothing, Mum. That list is pretty restrictive," Ginny said.

Molly harrumphed.

"Mum, it's not like Dad was the first bloke you ever kissed," Ginny protested.

Arthur muttered something that sounded like "Wainwright" which in turn provoked a furious crossing of arms by Molly.

Ginny opened her mouth to argue some more, but McGonagall interceded. "Be that as it may, we still need to work out some more details before we can retire for the evening."

As McGonagall took charge of the meeting once more, Harry silently watched Ginny and wondered both at how small a time they had to get to know each other, and how much he didn't know about her.

*

August 2, 1997

The next morning at breakfast, Ginny found herself staring at a bowl of porridge. Harry was sitting next to her and had already eaten two bowls full. As he helped himself to another ladleful, Ginny spied her mother putting the oats into the dry pantry.

"Mum?" she asked sleepily. "What happened to the normal breakfast?"

Molly walked back into the kitchen and wiped her hands on her apron. "I'm sorry, dear," she said. "There's just too much to be done today to have a proper breakfast." She untied her apron and folded it across the chair she normally sat in. "Lunch will be even more catch as catch can, I'm afraid. I've got loads of shopping to do and a load of other errands to run."

Ginny must have had a sour look on her face because her mother flicked her wand at the fireplace, lighting a cheery blaze, then placed her hand on Ginny's. "There, there. We'll have a good dinner tonight."

"Yes, Mum," Ginny said reluctantly. "Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I are having a picnic anyway."

"Right," Molly replied, then began to gather up her purse, cloak, and shopping list. "See you tonight."

Then she threw a handful of Floo powder into the fire and stepped off to Diagon Alley.

Ginny pushed at her porridge and gave it a tentative taste. Beside her, Harry laughed.

"You'd get better results if you'd actually take a whole bite," he jibbed.

"Ha, ha," Ginny retorted dryly. "Nothing looks good compared with Mum's eggs and bacon."

"Well, you've got this afternoon's date to look forward to, right?"

With another tiny taste, Ginny sighed and said, "I suppose you're right. At least you'll be around."

There was a pregnant pause and when Harry didn't answer, Ginny turned to look at him. "I, uh...actually have something else to do this morning. I'll be back in time for our date, though. Don't worry."

"We already don't have a lot of time together as it is," Ginny said with a pout. "Where are you going that's so important, anyway?"

"It's sort of a surprise," Harry said quickly. "I'm actually going to Apparate there, now that I'm legal."

Managing a smile, Ginny stood with him and gave him a tentative hug. "Take care, Harry."

Harry hesitated as she started to pull away and they stood close together until he seemed to snap out of whatever thoughts had captured his attention. "Bye, Ginny."

Then with a crack, he was gone.

*

All he had was an Apparation coordinate. From his recent training, he knew that it was somewhere in London, most likely near the Leaky Cauldron, but he wasn't sure if he were Apparating into the Magical or Muggle section of the city.

When the momentary fuzziness in his vision faded - a by-product of his now-favourite form of Wizarding transportation - Harry realized he'd Apparated into an alleyway. It was stuffed with rubbish bins and stacks of pallets and the buildings looked at least eighty years old. He picked his way around the bins and made for the street, where the women were wearing tank tops and shorts - he was in Muggle London.

Waiting for Tonks was always an interesting experience, as one was never quite sure what or whom one was waiting for. Would she be tall or short, thin or stout, young or old? A smartly dressed young woman was walking down the street, carrying a leather attaché in one hand and a scarlet umbrella in the other. Harry concluded that he didn't know what to look for, and he wasn't going to stare at every woman on the street, if for no other reason than not wanting to deal with the awkward glances he got in reply. The woman walked by him, giving him an opportunity to watch her familiar gait as she passed by. She then turned on her heel, catching him in mid-stare.

"Wotcher, Harry," she said, breaking into a broad smile.

"Hiya, Tonks," he replied. "So, where are we going today?"

"Friend's place," she answered, "Walk this way," she said, breaking into an off-tune whistling rendition of an old Aerosmith song.

Harry caught up to her as they walked down the street, which was filled with small shop fronts, until they reached a shop with a narrow door and a large window decorated with a painted white dragon. Between the glare of the morning sun and the grime on the window, he couldn't see anything inside the store.

Tonks rapped on the door with the handle of her umbrella, a staccato beat with an odd rhythm, tucking her umbrella back under her arm as they waited. Which turned out to be not long at all. With a series of clicks, the door opened, swinging inward, revealing a burly bearded man, not much taller than Harry. "Master Hand," Tonks said, bowing formally.

The man stood at attention, returning her bow, "Miss Tonks, it is a pleasure to see you again," he said, leaning over to kiss her cheek. "Your student, I presume," he said, looking at Harry.

"Yes," Tonks replied curtly.

"There are no classes scheduled until the afternoon, the practice area is all yours," Master Hand said. "Lock up when you're done," he said, passing by them, and making his way down the street without looking back.

Tonks entered the shop, taking her shoes off. She nodded at Harry, pointing to her shoes on the mat next to the door. Harry slipped out of his trainers, lining them up next to the black leather pumps. The room was filled with sofas and lockers lining one wall. Next to a drinking fountain was a circular staircase. Tonks rushed to the stairs, stumbling on the first step, but thereafter taking the steps two at a time. Harry followed cautiously to the next floor. The stairwell opened into a room, that Harry judged to run the length of the building. One of the long walls was lined with mirrors, while the other walls were covered by pads that hung from hooks high on the walls next to the ceiling. The floor was a weathered but still smooth hardwood. The room gave an odd echo as Tonks' bare feet slapped on the floor.

"What is this place, Tonks?" Harry enquired.

"It's a dojo," she said, snapping open her attaché case while she kneeled on the floor.

"A what?" he asked.

"A school for teaching martial arts; Master Hand was one of my instructors when I was an apprentice Auror, not that many years ago. He retired and opened this school. We kept in touch over time, and when I thought about a place to teach the gentle arts of ballroom dancing, I decided to ring up my old friend. He was gracious enough let me borrow his school - although I expect that he'll ask for a favour or two in reply; life works that way, you know," Tonks explained. She pulled a stack of compact discs out of the case, putting three aside before she pulled out a small compact disc player, setting it on top of the attaché case.

"So," Tonks said, turning to Harry, "dancing. You do know why we're here, don't you?" she asked.

Harry stared at her for a while. "Uh, to learn how to dance?" he replied. "I'm going to have to dance with Ginny at the reception, and I reckoned I'd better learn before rather than later."

Tonks raised an eyebrow, circling him silently. "Dancing," she began, speaking in an odd, detached voice, "is fun, it's a means of communication, a way to bond, and if you're doing it correctly, a form of seduction." She turned to the music box, slipping a CD into the front of the machine. Pulling her wand out of her sleeve, she slashed the air several times leaving motes of silver dust hanging in the air. The dust coagulated into a man-sized cloud and then turned into a formally garbed man, dotted with silver sprinkles. The man bowed to Tonks, who curtsied in reply and then took his outstretched hand.

Walking briskly, they travelled the length of the room in time to the music that was pouring out of the box. Most of the time the only contact between them was one pair of clasped hands and a light touch of a hand on the other's waist; at times there were brushes of one part against another, but for Harry the most riveting thing was watching Tonks' eyes. Her expression was blissful, but she never broke eye contact with her magical partner. However clumsy she might be when walking, when moving to music she was fluid and graceful. Beneath the blissful expression was a smouldering something that Harry couldn't quite put his finger on. As the dance progressed, he began to be uncomfortable; this was private and intimate, and he was intruding. The music's tempo lagged for a while, circling back to an ambling, walking pace. The dancers drew closer to one another. As the dance stopped Harry was struck by Tonks' face: cheeks flushed with a thin sheen of sweat on her forehead, she was panting lightly. As the music stopped she embraced her partner, who then bowed before disappearing in a swirl of dust. Tonks closed her eyes for a moment, hugging herself before turning to Harry.

"That," she said breathlessly, "was dance."

"Who was your partner?" he asked.

"You didn't see his face?"

Harry shook his head.

"That was a facsimile of your guardian, Remus."

Harry's jaw dropped. "You dance with him, like that?"

Tonks smiled. "Every chance I get, Harry. My mum, when I was a little girl, warned me about dancing. She said to choose my partners carefully, because I might develop feelings for them. Mum was, of course, spot on," she said with a wicked smile. "So, now to teaching you a bit of dancing," she said, her face now serious.

Harry began to fidget. "You know about the hexes that are in place, don't you?"

"I heard about it from Bill. Mind if I check for myself?" she asked.

Harry nodded.

Tonks drew her wand from her sleeve, holding it out in front of Harry's eyes. She slowly circled him, twitching her wand. He felt a chill begin to descend from his scalp, rather like being covered with very slow moving and very cold oil, which puddled down towards his heels. "Blimey," she exclaimed, "he wasn't kidding. Oooh, that's a nasty one that is," she said as she came to face him again. "Well, that explains a few things," she said as she tucked her wand away again. She clapped her hands. The cold oozing feeling was replaced with a slight tingling warmth.

"Explain what?" he asked.

"Why you've had such rotten luck with girls. One of the hexes is a specialized Confundus charm. Any girl who's not your girl who takes a fancy to you finds herself distracted if she gets too close to you and forgets what she was doing for a moment. The hex right next to that one is a rather violent banishing hex; if you express any interest in the wrong girl, she's hurled across the room. Has a lovely effect on chatting up girls, I'm sure. Well," she said, drawing herself up tall, "no matter, as my heart is pure - at least as far as you are concerned - so that shouldn't be a problem."

"What about me?" he asked, leaving unsaid the notion that as a seventeen-year-old wizard, purity wasn't something he normally used to describe the inner workings of his mind.

Tonks smiled. "I've got ways to work around that, no worries," she said. "Now, let's begin. I'm going to clap some rhythms and you're going to copy them."

"What's this for?" he asked.

"To see if you have any rhythm at all," she said in a sour voice. "We've not much time, Harry, and so much to do. Please trust me and save the questions for later, all right?"

Tonks clapped out a slow beat, two longs followed by a triplet. Harry answered in kind. She responded with a longer string; he echoed out its match. The clapping volleys continued, until she threw in a series of syncopated strings. Harry never missed a beat until the last string; he asked that she repeat that one, and then repeated it flawlessly. "That one's hard, Harry, and there's not too many dance tunes in 7/8 time with syncopation on the down beat. You do have rhythm, so this shouldn't be impossible," she said as she Summoned a pair of tennis balls from the attaché case.

"Juggling?" Harry quipped.

"That would be three balls," Tonks replied. "Palms up," she commanded. Harry put his hand up as if stopping traffic. Tonks pressed the ball against his palm, holding it in place with her own palm. "No grabbing the ball - we hold it in place with a light pressure only. Now give me the other hand, same arrangement. We're going to walk together in a square - three paces forward for you, backwards for me, three paces to your right, three paces backwards for you, forwards for me, three paces to your left. With any luck we'll be back where we started and should still have the ball," she said, punctuating her explanation with a smile.

They made the first box without dropping either ball, but Harry soon discovered that it was much harder than it looked at first, especially as Tonks began to set the exercise to music. After a while, they were practicing steps that Harry recognized as belonging to various dances. Tonks grabbed the balls and tossed them into the attaché case.

"Harry, look me in the eye," she said solemnly, "I need to get this one just right."

As he held her gaze, he noticed that her pale blue irises were darkening and turning towards a lovely shade of emerald green, the colour of shamrocks in the spring, the colour he saw in the mirror every morning. "You can blink now, Harry," she said as she pulled her shoulder-length, dark-red hair into a pony-tail. She was shorter now, just a bit taller and broader than Ginny, and was the exact replica of his mum.

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, Harry, you're going to learn to dance with your mum. I'm sure that Lily would teach you if she was here to do it, and I really don't fancy the notion of being blown across the room, all right?" she asked with a wink.

Harry swallowed and nodded.

The music began. The morning of practice was paying off; he would step and slide, dip and bow as he'd been trained. Putting aside his disbelief in the moment, he basked in the warmth and scent of his dancing partner, wondering what it would be like to hold Ginny this way.

Life was good.

*

When Harry arrived back in the Burrow's living room, he was winded, happy, and a little sore. Tonks was a fabulous dancer, and if Ginny was half as good, Harry would have a hard time learning enough to impress her. Having Tonks dancing with him as his mother was the icing on a very nice cake and he was glad for the chance to have that particular desire realized - even if it wasn't real.

There were sounds coming from the kitchen and when Harry walked inside, he saw Ron, Ginny, and Hermione in the midst of making and packing lunch.

"Sorry I'm late," Harry said as he helped Hermione by opening a package of crisps.

Hermione gave Harry a knowing smile and, quietly, said, "Have a good time with your other lady friend?"

Ron snorted, having obviously heard, and tossed some apples into a large wicker basket. "Is she as good as Charlie said she is?"

"Better," Harry said with a smile. "I'm going to be sore for a week."

When Ginny appeared at the table, a plate of sandwiches in her hands, she gave Harry a smile and set the plate on the table. "You're not going to get any traction with that line of teasing, Harry. I know what you can and can't do with this hex hanging over us."

Harry smiled back and helped her wrap the sandwiches with wax paper. "Who says I was teasing? I really will be sore for a week after what she did with me."

Ginny wasn't rising to the bait, however, and said, "If you'd been doing anything, she'd be in St. Mungo's right now. Trust me."

"Ooh," Hermione said with a giggle. "There's a story there, isn't there?"

"Yeah," Ginny answered, placing the wrapped sandwiches in the basket. "But I'm not telling with him around." She lightly elbowed Harry in the side and snapped the lid of the basket shut.

"Let's get going," Ron piped in. "I'm starved."

"You're always starved," Harry countered as he held the garden door open.

Ginny stepped out first, followed by Hermione.

"I am not," Ron said. "Sometimes I'm famished, other times I'm just a little bit hungry. There's a difference."

Harry chuckled. "I suppose you've got more kinds of hunger than Hagrid has had deadly pets."

They continued to banter as they walked, eventually ending up in a shoving match that had both of them rolling around in the bushes.

"Will you boys quit acting like...boys!" Hermione said exasperatedly. "We're supposed to be on a date."

Harry righted himself and helped Ron stand as well. "Sorry, Hermione," Harry said with the appropriate amount of contriteness.

"Won't happen again," Ron said. Then whispering so only Harry could hear him, Ron said, "Unless you make another crack about my eating habits."

Harry snorted, but at the look on Ginny's face, refrained from goading Ron any more.

They walked over to a secluded part of the paddock, shaded from the warm noon sun by a stout willow. Ron spread out a pair of blankets and Hermione and Ginny began to dole out the food.

Harry leaned his back against a small beech tree that grew under the willow and let out a contented sigh. There was a small breeze that rustled the leaves overhead. A stream gurgled and splashed a hundred feet away and as Harry chewed on his ham sandwich, he could scarcely imagine a better place to have his first outing with Ginny.

Ron and Hermione had moved their blanket towards the open meadow and were throwing crisps at each other. Ginny laughed at their antics, then turned to observe Harry.

"It's a lovely day for a picnic. I'm glad we're out here together," she said, taking a sip of pumpkin juice and pointing at their friends, "even if we have to be around them."

Harry sighed and smiled. "They're not so bad. I've spent the better part of six years with them - getting into every kind of trouble, avoiding death, freeing the innocent.... Blimey, it doesn't seem like it's been that long."

They sat under the swaying willow for a while before Ginny said, "There's so much I wish I knew about you, Harry."

Intrigued, Harry straightened up and wiped the bread crumbs from his hands with his trousers. "Like what?"

Ginny thought for a moment and said, "What's your favourite colour? Mine's dark green - and before you ask, no, it has nothing to do with your eyes."

Harry sniggered. "I wasn't going to say anything, honest."

They regarded each other for another moment before Ginny prodded, "Well?"

"Oh, umm, red and black." Harry paused a moment, then continued. "I won't wear brown. Most of Dudley's cast-off trousers were brown."

"I don't like pink," Ginny ventured, beginning to anxiously twirl a lock of her hair with one of her fingers. Harry thought she was cute when she was nervous.

"I hate Brussels sprouts," Harry finally said.

"Me too," she dropped her hand and sucked on her bottom lip for a second. "Same for turnips."

"When I'm around Dementors...I hear my mum screaming."

Harry closed his eyes and wondered why he had to send the mood into such a nosedive. Things had been going so well... He looked at Ginny, and saw her take a shuddering breath, unshed tears in her eyes.

"I hear Tom..." Ginny said softly

Harry's hand found hers, and gave it a comforting squeeze.

"Peeves chased me into the girls' loo once, back in first year. Eloise Midgen was in there, trying to hex away her acne. Both of us promised we'd never tell."

Ginny giggled, and Harry was relieved at the change in tone. "I sing alto," she said.

"I don't even know what the different parts are," Harry countered, "but I know what's good and what's not."

Looking thoughtful, Ginny seemed to be considering something, then shook her head and continued on with the mini-confessional. "I only eat marmalade at breakfast."

"I actually knew that," Harry said. "But you don't butter your toast - you just apply a single, thin layer of marmalade. Orange, if I remember correctly." When Ginny just gaped at him, he tried to divert her back to the conversation. "I like my bacon crunchy."

Ginny smiled, and then became suddenly nervous. "I... um... Oh, this is embarrassing," she said as she straightened the hem of her sundress with her fingers. "But if we're going to be married..." Ginny paused a moment, and Harry looked at her, encouragingly. "I just finished my period yesterday, so we shouldn't have any problems with... that... after the wedding."

Harry's eyes widened, and he felt his face heat up, but he did his best to not react. His mouth opened, but he couldn't think of a thing to say, so he shut it again.

Impulsively, Ginny leaned over and hugged him. "Thank you, Harry, for not making a joke, or looking revolted, or anything."

Harry gave himself a mental shake. "I like to sleep in on weekends."

"I like to sleep in every day!" Ginny exclaimed. "How many children do you want?"

"I'm not sure, exactly. I know I want more than one, but I don't know about having seven - like your parents."

Ginny smiled. "More than one is a good start. I think you'll be a fine father... someday."

Harry looked nervous. "I'm worried about that, actually. It's not like I have a whole lot of practical experience in that department. I sure don't want to be the kind of father Uncle Vernon was, always yelling and locking me in my...room."

Ginny rubbed his hand with her thumb and forefinger. "Harry, never in a million years could you be the kind of...arse that Vernon is. Besides, you'll have me to keep you on the straight and narrow."

Harry smiled and, remembering something Professor Trelawney mentioned in fifth-year, said, "Actually, if our Divination teacher is to be believed, I'm going to have a dozen kids."

Ginny's eyes bugged and he let out a hearty laugh. "She really said that - and even said I'd be Minister of Magic one day."

"Well," Ginny said, seeming to recover. "I'll have the babies and you make the Wizarding world safe for them to grow up in; deal?"

Harry nodded and let out a breath. "Deal."