Hello! So, was DH good for you lot too? :)
I have to admit that I was scratching my head at some parts of the book and shaking my fist at Ron - and at JKR - in others (LOL), but that doesn't mean that I didn't enjoy the book thoroughly.
If I'm really honest though, my fluff-writer's heart was rather disappointed. Oh well, I'll just choose to believe that the much talked-about Epilogue is JKR's nod to fluffy fanfiction. She certainly left us loads to think about! Crafty, isn't she?
As much as I love hearing from you, please don't leave reviews that may spoil the book for those few unfortunate souls that haven't read DH yet.
Thanks to Chreechree. Get some rest, Christine. :)
Oh, and there's a song in this chapter, so technically, this makes it a SongChapter. LOL. Not to worry, it's not too sappy. Just kind of fit, yeah?
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The Right Time | ||||||
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Category: Alternate Universe, Post-Hogwarts Characters:All, All, Harry/Ginny Genres: Fluff, General, Humor Warnings: None Story is Complete Rating: PG-13 Reviews: 615 Summary: Harry had promised himself that when he ultimately got rid of the Dark Lord, he would finally tell Ginny how he really felt about her. Regrettably, fate seemed to have other plans for both of them. But then again, perhaps fate was merely waiting for the right moment to come along. Hitcount: Story Total: 133178; Chapter Total: 14684 Awards: View Trophy Room Author's Notes: |
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As it turned out, not only was there a reception, but there was also another wedding — one that actually pushed through this time. Raphael had caught up with Vittoria outside the pink marble steps of the Palazzo del Pecorino, just as she was about to board one of the carriages that would take her back to the train station. After copious tears, numerous recriminations and a stray hex or five, Raphael finally convinced her that he still loved her and that he had not known about the baby. Any explanation regarding Sylvia and the aborted wedding was not heard by the eager crowd that had gathered to shamelessly gawp at the estranged lovers’ reunion. The same elderly minister who was supposed to have officiated Raphael and Sylvia’s ill-fated nuptials married a smiling Raphael and a radiant Vittoria underneath one of the large olive trees in the lush green garden behind the Palazzo, and the guests were then herded into another one of the many chambers of the palace for the reception. As soon as she stepped inside the vast hall, Ginny had been completely entranced by its sheer splendour. There were about a hundred or so round tables with cerise watered silk covers; elaborate crystalline glass vases bursting with pink and white roses were placed at the centre of each one. The hall was awash with the blooms, and the sweet smell of roses perfumed the air. Thousands of live, twinkling, dancing fairy lights illuminated the chamber, creating an enchanted, magical atmosphere. Over in one corner, the unmanned string quartet, now with the addition of a magical flute and piccolo, played soft, haunting melodies which made a strange counterpoint to the animated chatter of the guests as they excitedly discussed and dissected the events of the day. Ginny and Harry were sitting together at one of tables listening to Colin and Parvati take turns in putting forth theories as to why Raphael had settled for Sylvia in the first place. As she watched her former classmate and his girlfriend laugh and make jokes, she could not help but think that no one, not even Parvati's favourite Professor Trelawney, could have ever foreseen this particular couple ending up together. Colin had admitted to Ginny that he had always sort of fancied Parvati but had been too much in awe of her exotic beauty to do anything about it. But one balmy spring morning, she had unexpectedly shown up in his studio in Paris (where he had relocated after finishing Hogwarts), asking for his assistance in creating her first portfolio to show prospective clients. Not long after that, Colin had rallied enough Gryffindor courage to ask her out, and they had been inseparable ever since. Of course, afterwards, he would say that it was Parvati who had implored him on her knees to go out with her, but never within hearing range of his glamorous girlfriend. He had learned the consequences of incurring the doe-eyed witch’s wrath the hard way, as evidenced by the photograph that Parvati had sent Ginny several months past, showing a disgruntled Colin sporting a most impressive display of very uncomfortable-looking knarl quills all over his body. He’d had to sleep standing up for a couple of days before Parvati finally took pity on him. Ginny smiled to herself and took a quick look at Harry, who was now chuckling at something that Colin had said. As if he sensed her gaze on him, Harry turned his head in her direction and grinned at her. Ginny’s insides filled with pleasure as she beamed back at Harry; indeed, she felt absolutely giddy and she half-expected that any moment now, she would either float up to the grand golden ceiling and join the thousands of pink and white pearlescent balloons that merrily bobbed above their heads, or simply keel over from sheer happiness. Harry had been quite attentive ever since they had left the other chamber; he had helped her up from her chair and had not let go of her hand since. Ginny had been somewhat anxious that she had been a bit too forward on the Freccia d’argento, and in showing Harry how much she had been affected by Cordelia Silverton’s brazen flirting, but Hermione and her mum’s words still rang in her ears, and she had decided to show her hand a little. And if Harry’s earlier reaction to her in her dress robes had been any indication, well… Thank Merlin for Madam Malkin and her prodigious talent for dressmaking charms, thought Ginny with a happy sigh. “I think that rumour that Raphael was in debt to Mr Vane is rubbish. The Mugatus are the equivalent of Italian Wizarding aristocracy — they’re old Galleons — so there must be another reason why he was going to marry Sylvia,” declared Parvati, artfully re-arranging her saffron-coloured sari so that it would drape more gracefully about her slender form. “It’s more likely that he was on the rebound from Vittoria when he met Sylvia at one of his shows. Men are like that — they’ll go out with the next witch who showers him with a little attention.” Her boyfriend shook his head. “Not all blokes are like that, Parvati!” Colin protested. He motioned desperately to Harry. “Back me up here, will you?” “Colin’s right,” said Harry. “I can’t speak for every man, but for my part, the witch would have to be exceptionally special for me to stay with her.” Although he did not look directly at her, Ginny was elated when he squeezed her hand gently as he uttered these words. Colin nodded in approval. “And on the off chance that we ever break up, love, I wouldn’t sleep with Sylvia Vane even if you paid me a million Galleons. She’s downright horrible.” He looked adoringly at his girlfriend. “’Sides, if we did end things, I’d be too dead miserable to even look at any witch, much alone sleep with her.” “Oh, Colin!” cooed Parvati, patting him on the cheek in a doting manner. Ginny had to bite her lip to keep from giggling out loud when Colin and Parvati proceeded to provide them — and the rest of the wedding guests — with a rather public and remarkably acrobatic display of affection. Beside her, Harry shifted in his seat, obviously very uncomfortable. Ginny smirked at him; he rolled his eyes at her in response, but then he began laughing softly at the awkwardness of the situation. His chuckles served to bring the amorous couple back to reality. Parvati blushed and reattached a jewelled clasp that had fallen out of her hair while Colin threw them an embarrassed grin. “Er, sorry, we got a bit carried away there,” he apologised cheerfully. “Happens a lot. Anyway, what were we talking ‘bout again?” His brow wrinkled before he brightened up. “Oh yeah, I know. Sylvia probably slipped Raphael a love potion like Romilda accidentally did to Ron back in Hogwarts. Remember that, Harry?” “How could I forget?” said Harry with wry humour. “Ron walloped me a good one when he got the absurd notion I was trying to take her away from him.” “Did he really?” asked Parvati with a small titter. “And all along Lavender and I thought that she was after you, Harry.” “She was,” said Ginny, grinning up at Harry, whose face was screwed up in disgust. “Romilda fancied him rotten — in fact, I’d wager that she still does. Hermione told me that it was only my brother’s constant need to stuff his gob that rescued Harry from such an ignoble fate as being Romilda Vane’s little boy toy.” They were still having a good chuckle about Ron’s short-lived and ill-fated ‘infatuation’ with Romilda when there was a sudden sharp intake of breath from Parvati. “Oh my goodness!” Ginny swivelled in her seat to see what had caught Parvati’s interest. She had to blink several times to make sure that she had not been hit by a Confundus Charm, for tramping into the hall as if she owned the place was someone they had not expected, nor particularly wanted, to ever see again. Especially not at this reception. What made matters infinitely worse was the fact that she was heading straight in their direction. “Bloody buggering hell,” muttered Harry, his eyes darting around the room as if he was searching for the nearest exit. Unfortunately for Harry, and for everyone else, it was too late. Romilda Vane, in all her frothy pink lace glory, had arrived at the table. “Hi, Harry,” simpered the bold-looking girl, twirling a lock of hair around her finger. Harry inclined his head a fraction of an inch. “Romilda.” Ginny and Parvati shared a look when Romilda giggled and flicked her long black hair coquettishly over one pink lace-trimmed shoulder. “I thought I’d seen you earlier. Are you here by yourself?” she asked with a flirtatious smile. What are we? Bloody wood lice? fumed Ginny, raising her head to give Romilda the full benefit of her “Don’t-go-messing-with-me-you-fat-cow” glare of doom. Romilda was apparently unaware that the proper response to the patented Ginny-Weasley-glare-of-doom was, in fact, to flop and thrash uselessly on the ground like a Plimpy out of water, because she merely smoothed down her velveteen robes, drawing Ginny’s attention to the black-haired witch’s Bowtruckle-thin figure. All right, make that you-skinny-arsed-cow, Ginny conceded and adjusted her glare accordingly. She was about to pull out her wand to jinx Romilda’s horrendous yellow-green robes into strangling their owner when Harry saved her the trouble. “No, actually, I’m with Ginny,” answered Harry coolly, letting go of Ginny’s hand to slide his arm across the back of her chair. “And you know Colin and Parvati, of course?” “Of course.” Romilda nodded shortly at Parvati and Colin — who saluted her impertinently — and then she gave Ginny an insincere smile, which Ginny did not bother to acknowledge, as she was too busy enjoying the warmth of Harry’s arm around her shoulders. “Yes, well, Harry, you don’t have to stay here,” Romilda said loudly, tossing her head and wrinkling her nose at Ginny. “Why don’t you join us at our table?” “I’m very happy where I am, thanks,” replied Harry, who, in a move that almost made Ginny forget her own name, slowly began caressing her shoulder with his long, dexterous fingers. Her brain commenced standard self-preservation procedures straight away. Must not melt into a puddle of goo… Must not melt into a puddle of goo… She became distracted when Harry began drawing lazy circles on her upper arm. Must not… melt… Harry then moved on to tracing out ellipses and figures-of-eight. Puddle… Merlin help her. Goooooo… Now he was limning dodecahedrons. Dodecahedrons? Ginny concentrated on each delicious stroke of Harry’s fingers against her skin. Oh no, wait, they were just really uneven pentagons. She leaned ever so slightly into Harry’s highly intoxicating touch. Oh sod it all, she thought bemusedly. Melting into a puddle of goo isn’t that big a deal. She looked critically at the pristine marble flooring. Might make a bit of a mess though. As Harry continued to hone his artistic doodling skills on her shoulder, Ginny watched Romilda’s face become a nasty shade of puce that clashed quite spectacularly with her chartreuse robes. Out of the blue, she felt an immense upsurge of sympathy for the other girl. Really, she isn’t so bad, just a tad misunderstood, Ginny reflected compassionately. It must hurt to wallow in unrequited love for so long. “I didn’t expect you’d be at the reception, Romilda. Who are you sitting with?” she asked politely, marvelling at the fact that her voice was quite steady despite the heat that Harry’s fingers seemed to be generating with each languid caress. “None of your business,” snapped Romilda, her large dark eyes flashing with malice. “Don’t you talk to Ginny like that,” said Harry, his voice low and menacing. So much for my being magnanimous, sighed Ginny sadly, prepared to be gracious in spite of the other girl’s abominable lack of good manners. All her charitable thoughts rapidly disappeared, however, when she suddenly realised that Harry had removed his arm from her shoulder when he had straightened up to glower at Romilda. Right. She narrowed her eyes at the younger woman, who had taken a half-step backward, seeming to be quite frightened of Harry. This means war. “It’s okay, Harry,” she said, placing a hand on his upper arm in a soothing gesture. She waited until he relaxed somewhat, smiled reassuringly at him, and then whipped out her wand to level it at the annoying woman. “I’m giving you exactly fifteen seconds to get out of my sight, Romilda,” Ginny informed her in a brisk, no-nonsense tone. “So unless your dearest ambition in life is to be the first flobberworm in history to study at Hogwarts, you’d better leave.” Romilda’s magenta-lipsticked mouth curled up into a sneer. “You are so deceased, Weasley,” she hissed, her nostrils flaring angrily. “Just say the word, Vane,” replied Ginny evenly, raising her wand a little higher, “and it’s flobberworm time.” Harry’s icy expression and the fact that Ginny’s wand was emitting bright gold and green sparks that made ominous sizzling sounds when they landed on the tablecloth finally seemed to convince Romilda that she had truly overstepped a line. Thrusting her prominent chin high in the air, she did an abrupt about-turn and flounced from the room. “It’s flobberworm time?” Colin guffawed heartily, slapping the table in appreciation while Parvati nodded approvingly. “That was absolutely fantastic, Ginny!” Ginny shrugged her shoulders and stowed her wand away in her robes. “When am I not absolutely fantastic?” she deadpanned, smirking at her friends. Harry reached for her hand and gripped it tightly. “You’re always fantastic, Ginny,” he said, giving her such a blinding smile that if not for the tumultuous applause that suddenly filled the hall, she would never have known that the newly married couple had now entered the room. A bit dazedly, she returned his smile, and they watched as the newly married couple joyfully made their way to the main table. They were closely followed by the Contessa, who regally sailed into the hall with Paolo Pantaloni on one arm, and the minister on the other. “Paolo looks simply marvellous in his robes,” said Parvati, which caused Harry to snort noisily. Ginny nudged him with her knee and he responded by letting out another grunt of exasperation. “He’s really really really good-looking, isn’t he, Ginny?” said Parvati with a sigh of admiration. “Ridiculously so.” “Mmmm,” said Ginny noncommittally, peering at Harry out of the corner of her eye. She hid a grin when his brows came together in a small frown. She saw him cast an inquiring glance towards Colin as if silently asking why he was allowing his girlfriend to gush over another man like that. “I wonder who Paolo’s going out with nowadays.” Parvati looked around the room. “Who did we see him with during Raphael’s last show in Milan, Colin?” “Wasn’t it that German bloke with the bleached blond highlights? Hansel von something something,” answered her boyfriend. “You know, the male model who won the walk-off at The Purple Paisley Plimpy in Soho?” Ginny began laughing when Harry suddenly stiffened in his chair. He glanced sharply at her, something akin to mild terror on his face. “I told you he couldn’t possibly fancy me, Harry,” she said kindly, patting him on the knee with her free hand. “I think he was rather taken with you, though.” She laughed again when he grimaced at her comment. “Are you trying to tell me that—” The rest of Harry’s response was lost when a bell chimed and Raphael rose from the main table to address the audience. “My dear dear friends, thank you for coming to our little gathering. The day may have begun most — ah — strangely, and we may have run into some — shall we say — difficulties, but—” he gave an expressive shrug of his shoulders, “all’s well that ends well, si?” His speech was met with appreciative laughter and a noisy chorus of “Si! Si!” from the assembled guests. Smiling broadly, Raphael motioned with his hands until the room grew silent once more. “I will not go into the reasons why things turned out the way they did, but I would like to make it clear that it was never my intent to hurt anyone. I may have made foolish choices in the past, but I know that I have now made the best decision of my life.” He leaned down to kiss Vittoria soundly on the lips. “So it is true, what they say — I primi amori sono i migliori — ‘the first loves are the best ones’,” he stated, looking devotedly at his bride, who was fairly glowing with happiness, “aren’t they, mi teso— mmph!” Vittoria had grabbed him by the front of his robes and pulled him down again for a longer and much more passionate kiss that had most of the audience blushing and coughing embarrassedly long before it ended. Ginny felt goosebumps erupt up her neck when Harry bent his dark head to speak in her ear, his warm breath tickling her. “I really can’t see how Raphael could have chosen Sylvia over Vittoria. She obviously loves him, while Sylvia looked like she was only after his fame.” “We’ll never know, will we? It’s a good thing that he caught on and realised that what he really wanted had always been right in front of his eyes,” she murmured against Harry’s cheek, inhaling the clean, masculine scent she had always associated with him Harry’s green eyes burned brightly behind his glasses as he looked down at her. “Yeah, it’s a good thing that he did,” he echoed quietly, his gaze drifting down to her lips. If Ginny had not been aware that there were a hundred people or so in the same room as them, she would have launched herself at Harry right then and there and have given the newlyweds a run for their money. As it was, she was prevented in putting her nefarious plan to openly ravish Harry into action when Raphael, wearing a very large and foolish grin on his face, suddenly announced, “Now, my friends, the part you have all been waiting for.” He clapped his hands twice. “Let the feast begin! Buono appetitto!” An assortment of small plates appeared on the table, laden with different sorts of appetizers — pickled artichokes, stewed mushrooms, sun-dried tomatoes, and some grilled bread topped with tomatoes, ham and cheese which Colin identified as bruschetta. The reception hall was soon alive once again with the hum of conversation and the occasional loud burst of laughter as people began eating. Colin rubbed his hands in anticipation. “Ah, finally! I need some nourishment after all that drama. Although I can never understand why the Italians need to serve each dish one at a time,” he complained, even as he began piling food onto his plate. “Why can’t they just put everything in one place all at once? People get hungry, you know.” Parvati rolled her eyes and chastised Colin for his atrocious appetite. She herself only had taken some of the antipasti. “Oh, my poor diet! Why does Italian food have to be so delicious?” Harry and Ginny exchanged amused glances. “I swear, it’s like Ron and Hermione are right here with us,” chuckled Harry. “Actually, it’s a good thing that Ron isn’t here. Can you imagine the ruckus he’d raise about the size of the servings and this ‘funny foreign food’?” Ginny laughingly agreed. “Yeah, and Hermione would be expounding on each dish — where it came from, what the ingredients are, how many calories it contains…” She was about to help herself to the bruschetta when she realised that Harry was still holding her right hand. “Harry,” she said, smiling up at him. “Yeah?” “I need both my hands to eat.” Harry looked down at their joined hands and then gave her a lopsided grin. “Do you now?” he said, tightening his grip even more. Ginny felt her heart do a somersault. “Don’t worry, you can have it back after we finish,” she said, feeling quite emboldened by the way he was looking at her. “I’ll hold you to that,” he replied softly. He let go of her hand reluctantly, his thumb gently gliding across her knuckles before he did so. Ginny had no earthly idea how she got through the meal. She vaguely registered that the entrées — pasta dishes including lasagne, spaghetti alla carbonara, gnocchi alla romana; main courses of roast lamb, veal and beef rolls, roast suckling pig — were delectable and that the wine was excellent, but all she was really achingly aware of was the black-haired, bespectacled, handsome man sitting next to her, his shoulder frequently brushing against hers as they talked and joked with Colin and Parvati. Occasionally, she would look to her right to find Harry watching her with those amazing green eyes of his, and she was hard pressed not to drag him off to an empty room somewhere and have her wicked way with him. Ginny was thankful when afters included strawberry and pistachio gelato, and she could cool off her overheated imagination. When she saw the meagre size of the servings, however, she wondered if she could ask the house-elves to bring her an entire tub of the confection because it was going to take more than a tiny dessert cup to calm her inflamed thoughts. When the dishes disappeared from the table, the orchestra struck up a new tune, which Ginny recognised as a song by Calliope Arias, the latest singing sensation on the Wizarding Wireless Network. Sure enough, the porcelain-skinned, chestnut-haired, ruby-lipped singer, sheathed in slinky, shimmering vermillion robes shot with silver and gold thread, materialised in front of the band and waved to the appreciative guests. She began singing Your Love is Wizard and It Has Cast a Spell on Me, and Raphael and Vittoria took to the wooden parquet floorboards set in the middle of the room and began their first dance as a married couple. As the newlyweds moved slowly across the floor, Ginny felt Harry envelop her hand in his once again. She looked up, her breath catching in her throat when he carefully twined his fingers with hers, smiling rather rakishly at her as he did so. Raphael and Vittoria finished their dance to a hearty round of applause, and Raphael Summoned a chair so that his pregnant wife could rest while they watched the remainder of the program. “Ciao, amici,” said Calliope in the throaty contralto that had made her famous throughout the Wizarding world and had recently landed her on top of the list of the WWN’s Charming Chanting Chanteuses, usurping Celestina Warbeck, who had previously held the position uncontested for twenty years running. The Prophet reported that Ms Warbeck had “accidentally” overdosed on a Calming Draught upon hearing the news and had been rushed to St Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries — Third Floor, Potion and Plant Poisoning — where she had stayed to recuperate for a fortnight. Her back-up banshees refused to leave their beloved Celestina and took up a rather lugubrious vigil outside her room. Their plaintive wailing created such widespread unrest that Ms Warbeck was subsequently transferred to a private suite room in the basement before all the other patients could succumb to grave melancholia. “I’d like to offer my best wishes to our happy newlyweds. May they have many years filled with laughter and amore.” Calliope smiled at Raphael and Vittoria. “This song is dedicated to you, and to all the lovers out there.” Your smile is soft and drowsy as you let it play upon your face Oh, how I dream I might be like the morning sun to you “Ooh, I love this song!” squealed Parvati, seizing her boyfriend’s arm and shaking it excitedly. “This is our song, Colin!” “It is?” asked Colin, looking quite puzzled. “I thought our song was A Wand in Your Hand is Worth Two in a Bush Whatever the Occasion by the Weird Sisters? Y’know, ‘cos of that weekend we spent in Ibiza when you got dead pissed after that sixth Cockatrice Cooler — which I told you not to drink, by the way — and I had to bail you out of… ” Colin’s voice trailed off when he perceived the ferocious scowl his girlfriend was sending him. Paling a little, he nodded his head and grinned weakly at her. “Oh yeah, right, it’s this one. C’mon!” He jumped up, hauled Parvati to her feet, and they made a beeline for the dance floor, which was already packed with people, including the bride and groom, and — to Ginny’s surprise — the Contessa and the elderly minister, who were dancing cheek to cheek. Upon your cheek it lingers, never having known a sweeter place Oh, how I dream I might be like the river wind to you Ginny watched delightedly as the Contessa, who seemed to be as spry as a schoolgirl, was expertly twirled around by the equally nimble minister, their faces flushed and happy. The Contessa even let out a girlish giggle when the minister lowered her into a dramatic dip. Ginny turned to point this out to Harry, but the words died on her lips when she saw that he was looking at her, his eyes filled with such intensity that it fairly took her breath away. Let it be me, my love Harry reached up and brushed away a strand of her hair that had fallen free of her chignon, his hand lingering on her cheek before it drifted down to capture her hand once again. Let it be me, let me be your love “Dance with me, Ginny?” he asked in a deep, gravelly voice that set her nerves on fire. Wordlessly, she rose from the table and let Harry lead her to the dance floor. He placed his strong arms around her waist, smiling tenderly at her. Ginny brought hers up to encircle his neck and was soon lost in the magic of being held by the only man she had ever really wanted, and the only one she had ever really needed. Its light arrives on tiptoes, gently taking you in its embrace Oh, how I dream I might be like the velvet moon to you “Ginny?” Harry’s husky voice rumbled pleasantly under her ear as they swayed gently to the honeyed tones of Calliope Arias. Let it be me, my love She lifted her head reluctantly from the comfort of his broad chest and gazed up at him. Merlin help her, he was handsome. Let it be me, let me be your love “Yes?” she asked in breathless anticipation. “D’you think that Parvati and Colin will get angry with us?” he asked, a serious expression on his face. Ginny creased her forehead in confusion. Of all the things that she had expected him to say — like maybe a declaration of undying love and adoration — it was certainly not that. “Why would they get angry, Harry?” she said lightly, hoping that he could not hear the disappointment in her voice. “This is supposedly their song, yeah?” She nodded once, uncertain of where this conversation was heading. “Well…” said Harry, in a tentative voice. “Yes?” Ginny was beginning to feel a little impatient with him, but that quickly disappeared when Harry gently spun her around and then pulled her firmly to him. Its light arrives on tiptoes, gently taking you in its embrace “Oh!” she gasped, her hands splayed against his chest. She looked up into his eyes, which were blazing with emotion, and felt her heart skip a beat. “D’you suppose they’ll mind if I tell them that I’d like it to be our song too?” said Harry quietly, the corners of his mouth curved upward in a smile. “Our — our song?” echoed Ginny, feeling faint. Her blood was now pounding so loudly in her ears, she wondered if she had heard him correctly. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I think the words of this song are most appropriate, don’t you?” He lifted a finger to trace her jaw line, and she closed her eyes to savour the warmth of his touch. “So, would that be all right, Ginny?” Ginny’s eyes fluttered open to find Harry staring hungrily at her before he leaned in to whisper in her ear. “Would you let me be like a lover to you?” T he lovely song is Like A Lover by Sergio Mendes and Brasil '66. No copyright infringement intended. |
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