The Bargain
10: The Department of Records and Statistics
By Mr. Intel
August 9
Ginny convinced Harry to let them walk back to the Burrow. The peaceful night and bright, waxing moon made Ginny feel that it would be a crime to thrust herself back into her family’s presence so soon after Harry’s perfect proposal. From the demure smile on his face at her suggestion, she could tell that he wasn’t keen to lose their privacy, either.
An owl hooted overhead as they walked. Harry held her close as she played absently with the smooth metal around her finger and Ginny was grateful. Her dress was perfect for fine dining, but utterly useless at keeping in what little heat she generated. Still, basking in the afterglow of becoming Harry’s official fiancée, Ginny reckoned she could run starkers through the village and not feel a bit chilly. Harry’s attempt at transfiguring a handkerchief into a shawl was appreciated, but it was still a cold night to be out walking in just a thin evening gown.
"You’ve been wonderful tonight," Ginny murmured, snuggling close to him, and willing the trip back to take hours instead of minutes.
Harry pulled the transfigured shawl tightly across her exposed arm and sighed. "You have, too. I thought I was a goner for sure at the restaurant."
Ginny allowed a smile to creep onto her face. "I wasn’t going to kill you, Harry, just maim you a little. To be honest, I was in so much shock from what you were about to do — proposing in front of all those strangers! — that I did think of hexing you then and there, underage sorcery ban or not."
With a nervous chuckle, Harry stopped and turned to look at her. They were already at the lane that led to the Burrow’s entrance. "I know," he said, his eyes pleading for forgiveness. "I’m sorry. I realised just before I stood up that it was one of the worst ideas I’d ever had and did my best to make it up to you. You deserved to have that moment be private and I hope you’ll overlook my stupidity."
Having forgotten his indiscretions the moment he produced the ring on Stoatshead Hill, Ginny was in a forgiving mood; she wrapped her arms around his neck and proceeded to let her lips absolve him.
A good while later, the breathless couple entered the Burrow and were immersed in chaos.
*
No one noticed when Harry and Ginny slipped into the kitchen from the back garden. It was well past eleven, but despite the late hour, every Weasley was gathered in the living room, shouting or crying in varying degrees of disquiet.
"If Ginny hasn’t hexed Harry six ways to Tuesday, I’ll do it myself," came an angry growl from Bill.
"Did you see the look on her face?" asked Fred.
"Yeah," Ron piped in. "She was devastated."
"Ron, you don’t know what happened," Hermione cried. "They aren’t even back yet, so it doesn’t do any good to speculate."
"We are back," Ginny said forcefully. "And we’re fine. What’s all the commotion?"
"Ginny!" exclaimed her mum and Ginny was promptly swept into an embrace.
As Ginny was passed from her mum to her brothers, Harry became aware of the angry stares from each one. Hermione was the most sympathetic, but even her eyes held a glint of disappointment. The elation he’d felt on the way down from Stoatshead Hill vanished, only to be replaced with a foreboding tingle in his fingers — things were going to get worse before they got better.
"Good of you to return our sister," Charlie said menacingly. "Since you obviously don’t care about her feelings."
"Charlie!" shouted Mrs. Weasley. "That’s enough. Harry has her interests at heart, as you very well know."
Apparently unconvinced, Charlie crossed his arms and kept his icy glare fixed on Harry.
"Is that why he didn’t propose, like he said he would?" Bill retorted, forcefully enunciating the last five words.
Ginny opened her mouth to speak, but was drowned out by her father. "Maybe we should let Harry explain?"
Arthur’s tone was even and unassuming — Harry couldn’t tell what his future father-in-law felt about the matter, but knew that he was at least going to give Harry the benefit of the doubt.
All eyes were staring at Harry, waiting for him to speak. "Yes, well...you see, when I was, um...about to propose to Ginny, in the restaurant, it hit me that I’d made a colossal blunder choosing someplace so public." Harry caught Ginny’s gaze and she nodded for him to continue. "We needed this to be just — between us. There’s been so much of my life that’s been in the media and I realized — almost too late — that I didn’t want that for Ginny’s special moment. And when I looked at Ginny, then...I knew she didn’t, either."
When Harry stopped, the room seemed to collectively hold its breath.
"And?" demanded Hermione, who Harry guessed would be the last one to lose patience. "What happened?"
Ginny broke away from Bill and walked to Harry’s side, her hands clasped together. She put her right arm around Harry’s waist and stood on her tip-toes to kiss his cheek. Then, when Harry was sure Hermione was going to burst with curiosity, Ginny raised her left hand, wiggling her fingers to let the ring catch the light. "He asked, I answered."
"Ginnneee!" Hermione screamed and promptly smothered Ginny in an embrace.
There, perched on her ring finger, for everyone to see, sat a delicate gold band. Its polished surface reflected the light of the living room and seemed to capture the attention of everyone that looked upon it. On the top of the ring a single modest diamond glistened in the evening light, accompanied by two smaller emeralds on either side.
"It’s lovely," Hermione gushed, pulling away to allow room for Ginny’s mum. "I knew he had some sense left in his head."
Harry stuck his tongue out at her and then smiled.
Mrs. Weasley was crying, holding onto her daughter. "I’m so thrilled he made it official, Ginny, and that you accepted."
Bill, however, still wore a scowl. "Whatever happened to including the rest of us, Harry?"
"Yeah," echoed Fred, while George looked askance at Harry.
Ginny pulled her hand away from her mother and answered for Harry. "He did the right thing, Bill. You lot would do good to learn from my fiancé." A thrill ran up Harry’s spine as she said this, knowing that she was referring to him. "At the last minute, he knew I needed to let this be special, and he made the right choice. He chose between making me happy and making you lot happy. If you think he made the wrong choice, then you can just sod off."
Obviously recognizing the warning signs, Bill let his eyes drop to the floor. "I...I just wanted to see my only sister get the right bloke, that’s all," he explained. Then, Ginny walked over to him and caught him into a fierce hug.
"Thanks, Bill," she whispered, but the quiet of the room made it sound as if she’d spoken it aloud. "You’ll want to make your proposal to Fleur in private, too."
A column of steam seemed to rise in Bill’s face, judging by the colour of it. "There’s...we’re not...."
Mrs. Weasley turned her attention on her eldest, however. "Oh, Bill. That’s wonderful news! I had been wondering when you were going to make her an honest woman."
Bill seemed even more flustered by this, having apparently thought his living arrangements were still unknown to his mother.
"She’s quite a girl to overlook the earring," Mrs. Weasley said with a wicked smile, fingering the offending fang dangling from Bill’s ear. "And the hair..." she added as she linked arms with her husband.
The rest of the family broke into raucous laughter and the tension melted away. Soon, the family was breaking apart and heading for bed. As Harry began to ascend the stairs, a hand stopped him.
"Son," Mr. Weasley said gently as Harry turned back to face him. "You did right tonight. I’m glad you saw the sense in taking matters into your own hands."
Harry nodded, not quite knowing what to say. "She’s...wonderful."
Mr. Weasley smiled. "Yes, she is. I’m trusting you to take care of her for me." He clapped a hand on Harry’s shoulder. "Thank you."
Then, the patriarch of the Weasleys slipped past Harry and walked to his room.
Harry stood on the bottom step for a moment, thinking about what he was gaining and what he’d already lost; the fact that he didn’t have a father to guide him through the courting process, or a mother to bestow bits of wisdom on how to love and cherish a woman. Yet, as he stood there, he couldn’t help but feel like the universe had sent him a surrogate family that was just as good as any he could have hoped for.
"Hey, you," Ginny said and descended the steps. She wrapped her arms around his torso and inhaled deeply as she pressed her face into his chest. "You gonna give your fiancée a proper good-night kiss?"
Harry’s smile widened and he pecked the top of her head.
Ginny’s hand hit his shoulder. "Not like that, you git," she mumbled, still holding onto him as if he would suddenly bolt from the room.
"I know exactly what this witch wants," Harry said and lifted her chin with a finger.
They somehow found the means to walk to the next level and Harry bid Ginny good night a final time. It had been a long day, and yet Harry could hardly find it within himself to feel tired.
"Good night, Ginny," Harry whispered as the door to her room closed, and he walked slowly to his room, wondering what the future held for him and his soon-to-be-wife.
August 10
The next morning was the day before the wedding. Many things had been handled already, but there remained a hefty list of tasks to be done. Mrs. Weasley was making final arrangements with the caterer. As Bridesmaid, Hermione was busy with the decorations and the dresses. Ron — the Best Man — was being very secretive about something and Harry was keen to discover what it was.
"You ready to see your sister and best mate get married tomorrow?" Harry asked him at breakfast.
Ron took a sip of juice and stared at his toast. "It’s brilliant, but a little weird," Ron replied. "And I don’t know whether to be happy or jealous."
Just then, Hermione and Ginny took their seats at the table. Ginny kissed Harry’s cheek while Hermione snuggled up to Ron.
"It’s not too late to make it a double wedding, you know," Harry offered, giving Ron a significant look.
"No way," Ron said, making a cutting motion with his hand. "You can enjoy the media circus; my wedding will be nice and quiet."
They chuckled together for a moment and then Harry cleared his throat. "So, what’ve you been up to, Ron? You come to bed late every night and Ginny say Hermione’s already asleep. There’s been loads of strange owls in our room, and Fred and George have been abnormally secretive about something. What gives?"
Ron shifted nervously in his seat. Even Hermione seemed to be curious about Ron’s clandestine behaviour. "Nothing," he muttered, shoving a piece of dry toast into his mouth. "You’ll find out later."
"Umm-hmm," Harry said, knowing that he probably didn’t want to find out, especially if the twins were involved.
Ginny suddenly straightened beside him. "If this has anything to do with a stag party for Harry, Ronald," she said, doing a reasonable impression of her mum, "you better get that notion out of your head right now."
Looking defeated, Ron swallowed his toast and hung his head. "It’s out of my control, Ginny. Fred and George have invited about every male at Hogwarts — ‘cept Malfoy." He looked up and continued, "It’s not that I didn’t want to have a send-off for Harry, here, but they’ve gone crazy with it."
Ginny made to stand up, but Harry took her arm. "It’s all right, love," he soothed. Harry rubbed her arm and she started to calm down. "I promise to be a perfect gentleman and be home by midnight."
Sending him a withering glance, Ginny didn’t seem to believe him, but didn’t say anything else.
"Besides," Harry explained, "we’ve got loads to do together today. You’ll want me out of your hair by the time the party starts."
"Besides," Hermione echoed from her position across the table. "You might have somewhere to go tonight, too, Ginny." There was an unmistakeable twinkle in the older girl’s eye that spoke of long-planned mischief.
"Oh?" Ginny asked, suddenly excited.
"Maybe," Hermione temporized. "It depends on how quickly we can finish decorating."
With renewed vigour, the four teens began shovelling their food at top-speed. Ron and Hermione left to begin working on the reception hall at the church, and Harry and Ginny left for the Ministry of Magic.
*
Appearing at the designated Apparation point in the Ministry, Harry and Ginny were immediately inundated by a wave of reporters, journalists, and photographers. Apparently, word of their arrival had not taken long to get there.
"Mr. Potter," barked a stout man in a long purple robe. "Have you proposed to Miss Weasley?"
"Why did you leave the restaurant so early?" shouted another man behind him.
"And what about the wedding?" a witch yelled, elbowing her way to the front. A flood of questions followed this and Ginny held her hands to her ears at the sound.
Harry gently took Ginny’s hand. "Yes," he said curtly to the first man, silencing the rest of the crowd. He began to push through the throng of reporters towards the atrium, careful of Ginny as he proceeded.
"Was he romantic?" a witch with a tattered green shawl asked breathily, eliciting a flurry of parchment as the reporters scrambled to write down every word they said.
Ginny seemed to hesitate, then as Harry pulled past the witch, she turned and nodded. "Very."
The questions followed them as they finally broke free from the crowd and began to enter the lift. Harry and Ginny smiled and kept the answers short, but polite. When the lift door finally closed and they began to descend, Ginny let out a weary breath.
"That was...intense. I’ve never experienced anything like that before."
Harry shrugged. "You get used to it."
The lift continued down and the door clattered open on the third level. Ginny rubbed her hand up and down his back, the hand that had his ring on it. "I don’t know how you manage it."
Smiling kindly at her, he guided her off the lift and onto the floor that held several offices that had one thing in common: they all issued some kind of magical license. There was the Department of Magical Transportation, the Office of Experimental Charms and Spells, and the Department of Records and Statistics — the one they were headed towards.
Several heads turned as they proceeded down the hallway, and when they finally stopped in front of the Office of Magical Marriage Licensing, Ginny let out a breath of relief.
Harry turned the worn brass door knob that seemed a staple of government buildings and they walked into a sparsely-furnished waiting room. A sign flashed magical words across a slate above a small window that read: Please take a number...Now serving number 12.
There was no one in the office with them, so it was with an odd sense of dread that they took number 456 from the dispenser. Oddly, the number directly underneath it was sixty-four. Taking a seat, Harry and Ginny settled in for what they anticipated would be a long wait.
Ginny leaned her head on Harry’s shoulder and was about to wrap her arms around his waist when a chime sounded from somewhere behind the window. The magical sign flashed and then changed to read: Now serving number 456. A witch appeared behind the window and motioned them forward.
"Hello," the witch said dryly, without bothering to look at them. She produced a roll of parchment and a quill, and then handed them through a hole in the window. "Fill these out and bring them back here."
Harry took the papers and quill and returned to their seat. He scanned over them for a moment before he began to write. "Hey," he announced, "this is a self-inking quill."
Ginny rolled her eyes. "Of course it is. Let me fill this out," she said, taking the parchments from him.
"Sure," he said, sounding a bit relieved. "I’ll just sit here, then?"
Ignoring his self-pity, Ginny scanned through the form. She wrote in their names, their birthdates, addresses (she listed the Burrow as both their places of residence), and answered a hundred other questions that the marriage license application asked about.
"Harry, what’s the date of the Banns?" Ginny asked.
"That’s the date our marriage was announced," Harry replied.
"And that date was?"
"Before you were born," Harry replied.
"Humph."
"Why would they want to know how many other relationships we’ve been in?" Ginny wondered aloud. "I’m not answering that."
Harry snorted next to her. "What?" Ginny asked.
"Nothing," replied Harry. "It’s just that you’re not taking any guff from an application — it’s not surprising since you don’t take it from me."
Ginny allowed a smile and returned to the task at hand.
Ten minutes later and four pages of questions answered, Harry and Ginny returned to the window.
"All finished," Ginny announced and pushed the parchment back through the hole.
The witch took the documents and began to scan through them. She took a look at the names, widened her eyes, and for the first time, looked up at them, or rather, she looked up at Harry.
"Oh my!" she exclaimed. "I wondered when you might show up here." Then she seemed to collect herself and finished reading through the application. She made several notations on the front page and said, "This seems to be in order. I’ll need signed permission from Miss Weasley’s parents, seeing as how she’s still underage."
Ginny produced a letter from her pocket and handed it over.
The witch read it and slipped it into a box on her desk. "To detect forgery," she explained. The box let out a small ‘ding’ after a moment and the witch nodded. "Very well. That will be five Galleons to process the license and pay for the testing."
Ginny caught Harry’s eye. "Testing?" they asked together, and then looked back to the clerk. "What is that about?" Ginny queried while Harry fished out five coins and paid the fee.
"It’s standard for all prospective couples," the witch explained, stamping the application very loudly. "You have to undergo a battery of tests to determine compatibility. If you’re not sufficiently compatible, there will be counselling on how to get along."
Harry spluttered next to her and Ginny just let her mouth hang slightly open.
The witch was nonplussed, however. "It’s quite standard," she explained. "Just wait over there." She pointed back to their seats and without further protest or discussion, they walked over and sat down.
All too soon, they found themselves in an office adjacent to the waiting room with a wizard that looked older than Ginny’s uncle Bilius — who had died long before Ron was born.
"Now," the ancient man croaked, "just relax and I’ll perform the compatibility spell."
Harry held Ginny’s hand; she found some measure of comfort with him there.
The man waved his wand and began to mutter something. Had his speech been comprehensible normally, the spell would still have been indecipherable. They were covered in a pink and purple light whose rhythm seemed to undulate until it turned a solid purple. The wizard seemed to think that the spell hadn’t been done correctly, as he did it three more times with the same results.
He scratched his head and walked out the door without a word, leaving them feeling bewildered. Just when Ginny was about to go after him, he returned with another wizard, this one much younger and easier to understand. The first man performed the spell again and when the purple dominated once more, he spread his hands out. "See what I mean? The manual doesn’t mention this as one of the possible outcomes."
"Hmm," the younger wizard muttered. "Do you have their paperwork?"
The older man handed the stack of parchment over, now very wrinkled from being read-through so many times. "Ah," said his companion, comprehension dawning. "They’re arranged. It really doesn’t matter then, does it?"
"What’s the matter?" Harry ventured. "Why all the to-do with the compatibility spell?"
The men seemed to just notice that they were there. "Ah, well...you see, we always perform this spell to make sure you’re suited for marriage. If it goes mostly pink, you’re fine. If it stays mixed, then we try to pick out the bits that are incompatible and send you to a pre-marriage counsellor."
"And if it turns purple?" Ginny asked, not sure she wanted to know the answer.
The ministry wizard seemed to hesitate and folded his hands. "No one knows for sure. The wizard who invented the spell died a hundred years ago and never told anyone. Folks ‘round here think it means you’re doomed to a short marriage, but I think it means you’re already in love — deeper than most folks get after decades of marriage."
Not entirely sure what to think, Ginny shrugged her shoulders. "So...we don’t have to go to counselling, then?"
"No," the man said and motioned for them to stand up. "I reckon not, but I would recommend that you not tell anyone about the spell. It’ll just give those reporters more cause to smear your name through the mud."
Harry nodded his head. "You won’t have to worry about that. If I’ve learned anything, it’s that reporters don’t need help inventing new and tragic ways to muck up my life."
They were once again in the reception area, waiting for the clerk to process their license.
"All set," the witch announced. "You’ll have to wait twenty-four hours until you can be legally married, and it expires in one week. Good luck."
Ginny took the folder that the license was in. "Thank you."
They walked out of the office and began the trip towards the lift. Harry took her hand and gave it a squeeze. "You ready to face the reporters again?"
Ginny squared her shoulders and stuck out her chin. "Ready whenever you are, Harry."
Then, together, they stepped onto the lift and nervously waited for it to open.
*
Back at the Burrow, Harry and Ginny arrived as the entire Weasley clan was immersed in a frenzy of activity. Molly was shouting orders to Ron, Fred, George, and Arthur. Everyone but Ron had taken the day off from work.
"Fred, George," she said when Harry and Ginny arrived with a muted crack in the living room. "Get these boxes of flowers to the cold pantry. Ron, your clothes are on your bed, dear. Arthur, your appointment is in fifteen minutes and you can’t be late."
All of the male Weasleys, including the dark-haired one that was being inducted into the family the next day, were scheduled for robe-fittings at Madam Malkin’s in Diagon Alley mid-morning. Arthur had arranged it and, as usual, they were almost late.
"Yes, dear," Arthur replied and put his copy of the Daily Prophet down on the living room table. Then gesturing to the paper, he said to Harry and Ginny, "You’ve made it on the front page again, I’m afraid."
Harry groaned in the back of his throat and Ginny let out a harsh breath. She walked over to the table and snatched up the paper. On the front was a picture of them from the previous evening. Harry was partially-shielding Ginny from the photographer’s flash as they walked out of the restaurant. In the moving black and white photograph, the last frame froze and a red circle appeared around Ginny’s then-bare finger. A glisten could clearly be seen on Ginny’s cheeks. On the top of the page were the words, "Will Potter ever propose? Weasley girl jilted in Chéz Carre’s last evening." The article went on to speculate about the viability of their relationship and whether or not Ginny was suitable for Harry.
"What complete and utter rubbish," Ginny spat as she tossed the paper in a heap back onto the table.
Harry snorted behind her. "As if we didn’t already know that?" He slid his hands around her waist and squeezed.
Ginny melted back into him and let the stress wash out of her. "I suppose you’re right. It’s still galling to think that they can print such tripe, knowing that people believe it."
At that moment, Arthur poked his head back in and an odd sort of smile appeared on his face. "It’s...time to go, Harry. Meet you in Diagon Alley?"
Harry extracted himself from Ginny and gave a nod. "I’ll be along in a minute, Dad."
A thrill of happiness sparked in Ginny’s middle when he said that and her joy was mirrored on her father’s face. "Right. See you there," said Arthur and he retreated from the doorway.
Turning around in Harry’s embrace, Ginny snuggled into him and sighed. "Don’t take too long," she whispered. He kissed the top of her head and hugged her one more time.
"Remind me to tell you a secret about that ring of yours when I get back," Harry teased.
"What?" Ginny asked peevishly as he took out his wand and stepped away from her. "You can’t just tell me something like that and then leave."
Much to Ginny’s annoyance, however, he smiled, winked and was gone with a crack.
With a furious huff and another glance at the rumpled paper, Ginny tore off her robes and tossed them over the closest chair. She straightened her shirt and then with a renewed determination, marched into the kitchen to await their trip to the church, unconsciously twiddling with the smooth gold band on her finger.
*
Ron was waiting for him in the Leaky Cauldron when he arrived and they both headed into the alleyway through the brick wall at the back. Diagon Alley was remarkably free of the usual traffic for a Friday morning and Harry was glad for it.
"So," Ron said casually, "you nervous about tomorrow?"
Harry kicked at a pebble, sending it skittering along the cobblestone walk. "Nah," he replied, but quickly reconsidered. "Well, I’m a little worried about the dancing thing."
Nodding his head in agreement, Ron shoved his hands in his pocket. "What about the curse? Ginny could still change her mind..."
It took Harry only a second to conjure a picture of that scenario in his mind. "I don’t think Ginny would do that, do you?"
"Not unless you’ve done something to her that she thinks is worth it — not that anything is worth that, mind you. You know how irrational she can be, Harry."
"Yeah," Harry agreed. "Let’s just hope I don’t bollix things up, then."
They were already outside Madam Malkin’s and Ron led them inside. Madam Malkin herself was doing the fitting and had the twins standing straight and stiff as she marked the hem of the robes they were trying on. Harry made a mental note to tell Ginny how obedient the normally-wild brothers were being.
"Right, you two," Madam Malkin said, pointing to Harry and Ron. "Stand over there." Her finger moved to point at an empty area by the changing rooms. "The tapes will measure you while I finish with this lot, then it’s off to pick out colours."
Feeling a bit like a new Auror recruit, Harry walked sheepishly over to the indicated spot and a pair of measuring tapes began to uncurl and measure every part of Harry and Ron’s bodies. Arthur, Charlie and Bill were on the other side of the twins, and were looking at hats, scarves, and gloves that were also on the list of things to buy for tomorrow.
"I’ll tell you," Ron said to Harry when the tapes were done. "I would have never believed it if someone had told me I’d be getting ready for your wedding with a year left in school. Not to mention that you’re getting married to my sister." Ron shook his head as he stared at the ground in disbelief. "Mental. That’s what I’d have told them."
Harry snorted. "Yeah, well, you didn’t hear this from me, but there’s been a running bet on you and Hermione getting together since fifth year."
"Yeah?" Ron turned to Harry and scratched his head. "Who won?"
"I dunno. Someone in Ravenclaw guessed it’d take you until seventh-year, so I don’t know if this summer counts yet or not."
At that point, Madam Malkin appeared. "Onto the dais, boys. It’s time to try some robes."
Ron was staring at the twins as they snapped each other with silk ascots and Harry began to reflect on how quiet the summer seemed. With all the preparations for the wedding — the fact that he was getting married — Harry suddenly wondered what was going to happen with Voldemort. Now that he was about to be magically and legally bound to someone else, his position as ‘the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord’ seemed a lot more complicated.
"You all right, mate?" Ron asked, now looking at his best friend.
"Yeah," Harry replied slowly. "Just thinking about how weird it’s going to be...being married." He paused, ran a hand through his hair, and looked around to make sure no one was within earshot. "I mean...with Voldemort and all."
Ron’s face fell. "I know what you mean. I was thinking about that, actually, and it seems like Ginny wasn’t exactly unknown to...him, you know? Especially after last year."
Harry knew exactly what Ron was talking about. During their sixth year at Hogwarts, Voldemort himself had all but infiltrated the school and the target had been Ginny. It was only after Harry, Hermione, and Ron had discovered her missing and followed her into the Forbidden Forest that they realised who he had been after. Ginny was still susceptible to Voldemort possessing her and was bait for him to lure Harry out of the protections of the castle. Luckily, Harry had discovered her disappearance earlier than planned and was able to make a diversion while Ron took Ginny back to the castle; they lived, but not without consequences.
"Well," Harry said resolutely, catching his stern reflection in a nearby mirror. "He’s not going to get her again. I’m going to make sure of that."
A heap of multicoloured fabric was thrust at both boys. "Go try a few of these on and we’ll see how they look."
Harry took a stack and, with a nervous glance at Ron, walked towards the changing rooms. It was going to be a long morning.
*
At half-past eleven, Ginny’s hands were so cramped from stringing gold and green streamers that she couldn’t hold onto the thin paper any longer. "That’s it," she declared, descending her step-ladder and finding a folding metal chair to collapse into. "I’m not hanging another one of those wretched things until I can feel my fingers again."
Her mother looked disapprovingly from her own ladder and clucked her tongue. "I just hope we can finish with the decorations before dinner. It won’t do to have the hall half-decorated...and that doesn’t even include you picking out the music."
Ginny rolled her eyes at her mother’s attempts to guilt her back to work. "It’s my wedding, so it’ll do no good if I’m in St. Mungo’s with amputated hands."
With another cluck, her mum sauntered off to the other end of the hall, where the boxes of decorations were stacked, and proceeded to begin sorting them.
Hermione, who had to this point been directing their hanging work, sat down by her friend, apparently not opposed to the idea of a break. "You holding up all right, Ginny?"
"Physically or emotionally?" Ginny queried. "You need to be specific, as I’ve got several lists of problems right about now."
Grabbing one of the younger girl’s hands in her own, Hermione began to gently massage the numbness away. "I wasn’t talking about these," she said. "I was hoping you could vent on me, however."
Ginny gave a hollow chuckle, very grateful for the conversation and massage. "You mean you’re not ready to hex Ron yet? If I spent as much time with him as you have lately, I’d have replaced his ears with his..."
"The point," Hermione interrupted quickly, "is that you’re a girl who’s getting married tomorrow and I’m not. Besides, you aren’t spending the...kind of time with Ron that I am — when there’s less talking, there’s less chance to argue."
Looking at her friend’s pink cheeks, Ginny was torn between the urge to laugh out loud or merely empty her breakfast onto the church floor. She settled for a groan, instead. "That’s way too much information, Hermione. I’m glad you and Ron are on the same road as Harry and I, but any hinting about what you and my brother are getting on to is not going to help my nerves any."
Hermione switched hands and Ginny was temporarily incapable of speaking, so wonderfully painful were her ministrations. "Fine, I won’t tell you what a wonderful kisser he is, or how nice his pecs feel through his shirt, or..."
"GAH!" Ginny exclaimed, ripping her hand free to throw them over her ears. After a moment, Ginny chanced a glance at her best friend to see her laughing gaily over Ginny’s reaction. "Very funny," she said, lowering her hands.
"I’m sorry," Hermione managed between giggles. "Ron was right, though; you Weasleys blush all over."
Ginny chose to ignore her and stood, walking slowly towards the middle of the hall. Luna was attaching radishes to one of the white lattice arches, her mum was now magicing boxes to float to various places around the hall and the reality of tomorrow’s activities finally started to sink in. "I’m getting married," she said softly.
"Well spotted," Hermione replied, coming to stand beside her. "And if I’m not mistaken, your fiancé just arrived."
Following Hermione’s outstretched finger, Ginny caught sight of a familiar shock of messy black hair. He was chatting with Ron and hadn’t yet seen them. A surge of fear ran through her, mingled with a hint of comfort. "Hermione!" Ginny squeaked. "What am I going to do? I’m getting married!"
With a condescending chuckle, Hermione simply hugged Ginny. When she pulled back, Hermione’s eyes were filled with tears. "Go to him. Take some time away from here for a while and things will be all better."
Ginny nervously chewed on her lip and fought off another wave of panic. "Right," she said uncertainly.
Hermione gave her a gentle shove and Ginny found herself walking towards Harry. He still hadn’t seen them, but Charlie and Bill were waving behind him. As she approached, the nervousness melted into an intense desire to escape — to leave the trappings of the hall and get away from everything wedding-related. When Harry finally made eye contact with Ginny and a smile lit up his face, she knew exactly what she needed.
"Harry," she whispered, clinging to him as if he would suddenly disappear, "I’m losing my mind. Take me home; I need to get away from here."
Harry took her into his arms gratefully and kissed her forehead. "What do you want to do?" he asked.
"Take me flying."
*
It wasn’t until Harry’s Firebolt was close to top speed that he realised how truly tense he had been. If Ginny hadn’t suggested flying, it would never have occurred to him that he needed a break. From what he had seen of his fiancée at the church, she looked like she needed one just as bad.
With a glorious whoop of joy, Harry pushed his broom up over the tree line until all he could see was blue sky and the occasional dot of a white cloud. He would have normally not been able to chance such a visible manoeuvre, but for the Concealing Charm he had cast the moment Ginny opened the broom shed. Harry made sure to learn that one in Flitwick’s class last year for just such a day as today.
Ginny was miles behind him on her year-old Cleansweep twelve, hollering at him to come back down, but Harry was too elated to comply.
After a few Wronski Feints to get his head clear, however, Harry pulled alongside Ginny, a loopy smile on his face. "Ready to run some Chaser plays?"
For her own part, Ginny didn’t seem the least bit perturbed by Harry’s boyish display and simply threw the Quaffle she had been carrying at his mid-section. "Porskoff Ploy, two lengths of the pitch, then I want to see if you can catch the Quaffle while I do the Woollongong Shimmy."
Harry wasn’t entirely sure, but there seemed to be a particularly mischievous glint in her eye as she said that last bit. Having seen Ginny’s Shimmy — a high-speed serpentine maneuver used to throw off the opposing team’s chasers — Harry didn’t think it would be too hard to steal the red leather ball from her.
"Sounds fair," he deadpanned. "But then I get to do the Shimmy after that."
Ginny seemed to consider this as they went through their first round of the Porskoff Ploy. "You’re on," she replied at length.
They passed the Quaffle back and forth for a few minutes as Ginny worked out some kinks and then it was time for Harry to try to steal it from her.
Nodding that he was ready, Harry threw the Quaffle in a large, looping arc and Ginny sped off after it. Trailing her wasn’t difficult until she caught the ball in a single, smooth grab. With it tucked tightly under one arm, Ginny began a set of dizzying twists and turns that had Harry guessing. Finally, she made a mistake and Harry dived.
Just when he was about to pounce on her and take the Quaffle, however, Ginny pulled hard on her Cleansweep and darted up — directly into Harry’s path. With a fraction of a second’s hesitance, Harry was barely able to pull his hand back and divert away from colliding with the still zig-zagging girl.
With renewed determination, Harry narrowed his eyes and searched for a pattern in her gyrations, all while keeping pace with her. Harry began a series of feints, diving after her, only to pull-up right before they collided.
Ginny didn’t seem to be phased by this at all. "Afraid to tackle a girl?" she taunted, only making Harry more determined.
Harry pondered that question in an instant. He’d scrimmaged with Ginny before, when she was just a fellow team-mate. In less than twenty-four hours she would be his mate for life. Snapping out of his reverie, he slammed into her and the Quaffle went flying. Harry rubbed his arm where they had connected and saw Ginny doing the same.
"About time," she said, wincing. "I was wondering if you’d ever get the nerve to hit me."
Harry paused, suddenly abashed. "I didn’t want to hurt you..."
"Oh, tosh," Ginny said with a broad smile. "It’s Quidditch! You’re supposed to get hurt."
Shaking his head and laughing at the same time, Harry retrieved the Quaffle with a wandless Summoning Spell. "Now it’s my turn."
Poking a pink tongue out at him, Ginny gave his arm a playful bump and said, "Don’t expect me to be as soft with you as you were with me."
"No," Harry replied, "I would never."
They flew to the closest end of the clearing and hovered for a moment before he tossed the Quaffle to Ginny. "I’m ready whenever you are."
Ginny adjusted her position on her broom and pulled her arm back. The Quaffle flew from her hand and Harry automatically began to track where it would be when he caught up with it. In a burst of speed, Harry zoomed out and down, intent on making at least two laps of the pitch before he let her win.
The Quaffle sped into his arms and he began to jog back and forth until he could sense Ginny’s approach. A sudden dive provided escape from her first attempt and the chase was on.
As they flew faster and faster, Harry was more and more daring with his avoidance tactics, drawing them so near to the ground that he was sure he would have grass stains on his knees when the match was over. He led them above the trees in a spiraling maneuver that no ordinary broom could match and had to laugh at Ginny’s scowl.
Diving back down, Ginny resumed the chase without so much as a word, her face a mask of concentration. Then, knowing the perfect way to end the match, Harry pushed up on the foot pegs, presented his back-side to Ginny and promptly began to waggle it back and forth.
The last thing he heard as he was mowed off his broom and tumbled to the ground in a heap was Ginny’s gasp of surprise and a spate of giggles. When they finally came to rest in the knee-high grass, Harry noticed that not only did Ginny have the Quaffle and a self-satisfied smirk on her face, but also that she wasn’t quite done with him, yet.
"That was not part of the Woollongong Shimmy," she exclaimed.
Harry laughed at her pink cheeks. "Well, it should be," he countered. "It certainly distracted you."
Ginny’s hand thumped Harry’s shoulder and she smirked. "Only for a moment! I got the Quaffle in the end, didn’t I?"
All thoughts of impending marriage flung far from his mind, Harry could only look at Ginny’s windswept hair and glowing smile and wonder why he was the lucky one that got to be here with her. For the first time since his birthday, he thought that maybe arranged marriages weren’t all that bad.
"What?" Ginny asked, breaking him out of his reverie. "Have I got a bug in my teeth or something?" She ran her tongue over them and Harry decided that the game wasn’t quite over, yet.
"No," he said, sitting up fully. "But I think you might not have that Quaffle once I’m through with you."
"Is that so?" Ginny asked, rising to the challenge. She tucked the ball behind her back and thrust her chin defiantly at him.
"Yes," Harry replied and without warning, dived at her. His hands found a particularly ticklish spot above her hips and she was soon begging for mercy.
"I give!" she pleaded, tears of laughter streaming from her face.
Harry reached behind her and grabbed the Quaffle. "Ha! I won."
From her position on the ground, Ginny finally composed herself and arched an eyebrow at him. "Really? So what do you win?"
Harry contemplated this for a minute and then propped himself on an elbow next to her. "You."
"Me?"
"Yes," Harry confirmed. "I win. You’re mine for the rest of my life."
They stared at each other and the giddy fun transformed into a gentle tenderness. Ginny’s smile never waned as she turned to watch the sun paint the underside of the clouds red. "I was yours a long time ago, Harry," she whispered.
Harry rested his head in the crook of her shoulder and looked at the sky with her. "I guess I’m finally realizing that."
The sun set and the grass swayed with the soft breeze of evening, but Harry and Ginny stayed in the paddock as long as they could — with the promise of a stag party for Harry and a hen party for Ginny later that evening. They gave simultaneous sighs of contentment, each glad to be with the other on their last night as single people, and wondering what the next day would bring for them.
References to Harry's sixth year are part of an unwritten storyline that I invented for The Bargain. Like Imogen did in her story "Alpha and Omega", I skipped sixth year purposefully but realized that I needed some backstory to provide motivation and colouring to the story. There was considerable interest in knowing what the ring looked like. Being a bloke, it never occurred to me how important that particular piece of information was. Suffice it to say, I worked in a little something extra into the ring, along with the description. Ginny's ring is not ordinary. :D Thank you, Kokopelli, AMulder, and Sherry for all you do for me and my writing.