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Voulez-vous Harry?
By Spenser Hemmingway

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Category: Mamma Mia Challenge (2011-3), Mamma Mia Challenge (2011-3)
Characters:Harry/Ginny
Genres: Fluff, Romance
Warnings: None
Story is Complete
Rating: PG
Reviews: 4
Summary: *** Winner of Best Overall in the Mamma Mia Challenge ***

Imagine a certain young "lounge lizard". Imagine Harry in a white, polyester leisure suit, gold chains, platform shoes and hitting on every girl in the room for bragging points? No, neither can Ginny, and that is why she is taking certain...steps. A missing moment from Nelly Bly.
Hitcount: Story Total: 3588



Disclaimer: Harry Potter Publishing Rights © J.K.R. Note the opinions in this story are my own and in no way represent the owners of this site. This story subject to copyright law under transformative use. No compensation is made for this work.



Author's Notes:
Benny Andersson and Bjorn Ulvaeus wrote Voulez-vous in 1977 and Take a Chance on Me in 1979. Yes, a couple of parts of this story are from Nelly Bly, but converted to first-person Ginny. Thank you for reading--Eric B.




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“Voulez-vous Harry?”

By Spenser Hemmingway


“We must walk consciously only part way toward our goal, and then leap in the dark to our success.”–Henry David Thoreau


Midnight atop the Eiffel Tower, June, 1998



“There you are. It only took me two Apparitions to find you,” I said, taking a seat on the ground beside him. Harry didn’t so much as flinch when I appeared.

“I’ve been expecting you. Where did you go first?”

“Notre Dame, but only because I wanted to meet Dobby’s gargoyle friends.”

Harry smiled, knowing I’d been joking. The two of us somehow always knew roughly where the other one was. Neither of us understood the form of magic had been created between us, but I think we both suspected it had something to do with the emotional bond we’d developed with time.

“You shouldn’t be Apparating yet Ginny.”

“Harry, the Ministry has already waived my examination. We certainly did enough during the war, didn’t we? They won’t make too big of a fuss over my being a few weeks short of legal. If they do, we’ll tell them it was an emergency. I had to rush you the counter-spell for a terrible hangnail.

Dreadfully painful. You arrived just in time,” Harry said, putting his arm around me, and gently pulling me close. “Thank you by the way.”

“For not giving you a speech, trying to encourage you, and trying to cheer you up? I think we’re past that Harry.”

“Thanks again Ginny. Anything else?”

“Yes, there is Harry,” I said in as calm of a voice as I could muster with all of the emotions suddenly welling up inside me, “There is something very important that I want to discuss with you.”


*****



People everywhere
A sense of expectation in the air
Giving out a spark
Across the room your eyes are glowing in the dark
And here we go again, we know the start, we know the end
Masters of the scene
We’ve done it all before, and now we’re back to get some more
You know what I mean



One hour earlier



Harry should have known better! I kept mentally telling myself. How could you have possibly believed you could sneak out of the youth hostel without me knowing?

Everyone in our group would probably be awake all night, worried about our stolen tour bus. Even my brother Ron, who could sleep through the sound of a yodeling ogre, would no doubt be propped up on his bed helplessly staring off into space. I had been exactly that same way not too long before.

Since the girls’ rooms were in a separate wing of the inn, there was no way I could have seen or have heard Harry as he slipped out into the night. I didn’t need to do either. I could simply sense it when he left us, no doubt needing the cooler night air to help clear his brain–attempting to once again purge the guilt planted in his mind.

Guilt? Why was it always there with Harry? I knew he loved me, deeply loved me, but I sometimes had to wonder if the terrible remorse was battling those good feelings for prominence in his mind. All the years of the war, Harry carried it about him as if it were the chains Jacob Marley’s ghost had to bear in the Christmas story. The sight of our fallen friends at the end of the Great Battle (as the papers were now calling it) had fanned those flames yet again. A large part of the reason for our trip was hopefully to pull Harry away from those feelings for a time. Now, having the bus stolen right from outside our lodgings, the guilt was as strong as ever.

Why did he feel that way? I always wondered. It was never Harry’s fault, this time least of all. Our favorite house-elf had been the one who left the keys in the ignition. He had been the one who had placed such powerful magical protections on the vehicle to where even Wizards couldn’t easily trace it. It made no sense as to why Harry decided he had to shoulder all of it once again. I thought we were past that now.

Apparently, we weren’t though. Now Harry was wandering the streets of the East Bank, and I was perhaps five minutes behind him. My thoughts kept fluctuating between hoping I could catch up with him and wondering if I should. At this point, the two of us were far more than friends or even family. It was as if we had become the same person. We had a relationship that most people, at least Muggles, might not expect in such a young couple. We weren’t Muggles however. Wizarding culture expects far more out of its young people; allows more. The struggles Harry and I had faced had required us…everyone in fact, to grow up at even an earlier age. In a way, those years had been stolen from us, but, in yet another, it had caused us to grow together in wonderful, magical ways. Tonight, however, Harry had pulled away yet again.

Our break-up, after Dumbledore’s funeral, had only lasted a few short days. Ron and Hermione, among others, had taken turns lecturing Harry about how he never needed to take the responsibility for the evil actions of Voldemort and his followers. We all worked hard to teach him the lesson about how strong everyone was when we were standing together, especially when I could be by his side. Harry told us he was finally listening and agreed with it all. Then he asked me to take him back, albeit extremely quietly so as to protect me. Our close relationship became as big a secret as were the good reviews for Spenser’s last story.

It was a wonderful, if challenging year for the two of us. I helped Harry deal with all those poltergeists nipping at his heals. Every day I worked to reinforce the idea that he shouldn’t face the Dark Lord, or even everyday life, alone. With each new sunrise came the realization that the day would be better than the one before it for the both of us. Now, with the war over, I was even beginning to think of other longer-term things. I had been at least. Now, with Harry slipping away from us…from me…as he had, a large wave of painful doubts was washing over my whole being.

I slowed my pace then, maybe not trusting myself not to step out in front of one of the few passing cars while so deep in thought. Paris, the City of Lights, surely was as beautiful a place as I had ever seen. A pang of homesickness washed over me, but just for a moment. I knew I wouldn’t have felt it if Harry had been there beside me enjoying the night.

I stopped walking then but stepped over to the edge of a streetlight’s glow. Closing my eyes, I took several deep cleansing breaths, wrapped my arms around myself, and tilted back my chin. Opening my eyes then, I looked upward, trying to make out what stars I could in the far too-bright city sky. Was Harry trying to look up at these twinkling lights as well just then? Closing them again, I concentrated on Harry. After a few seconds, I realized that Harry had now Apparated off, and I knew exactly where he was.

Indecision began to eat at me. No, that wasn’t right. I knew that I would follow him there; I had to. The feeling inside me then was pure apprehension. What would I say to him? What would he say to me was the greater fear. A fog was settling over my mind, and, try as I might, I could not shake it. In a way, it offered me a welcome momentary oblivion. Then, in the blink of an eye, it was gone. What…what had startled me out of my thoughts that way?

From across the nearly-deserted street, and halfway up the block, came the sound of someone singing. They were female voices. Surprisingly, the vaguely familiar melody was in English. I found myself crossing the narrow boulevard, and then walking up to a tiny Parisian club. Each step close brought clarity to the lyrics. I somehow recalled the song’s title. I don’t know where I had heard it, or how I could remember. Regardless, there it was rushing back into my mind from who knows where. I smiled as I listened, but it hurt as well, triggering a wave of memories.

“I know what you think
‘The girl means business, so I’ll offer her a drink.’
Feeling mighty proud,
I see you leave your table, pushing through the crowd.
I’m really glad you came, you know the rules; you know the game.
Master of the scene.
We’ve done it all before, and now we’re back to get some more.
You know what I mean.”


Master of the scene? The Game? All at once I snorted in contempt…contempt brought on by an old memory from when I was so very, very much younger.


*****


Hogs meade, early February, 1997



“Hey there Ginny. Whoa you’re looking especially nice this afternoon…hot in fact.” I slowly raised my eyes to the teenage boy standing before me, gave Justin Finch-Fletchley my deadliest gaze, and then immediately returned my attention back to my untouched mug of butter beer. “Hey, you’re not still angry about that little mix up at Halloween, are you? I told you the girl didn’t mean anything to me. You shouldn’t have let it bother you. You and I had some good times when we were going out…some great times.”

“We didn’t even go out for a full week Justin. Most of that time was spent with my real friends listening to how you were spreading lies all over the castle about the two of us.”

“I was bragging about having such a gorgeous girl on my arm Gin. Who wouldn’t do that?” I glanced up at him just then, but at the edge of my vision, trying to appear as if I wasn’t. While talking to me, Justin’s eyes were now locked on a certain serving girl to my left with a much too low-cut dress. “We had some good times when we were going out,” he said again. “We’d still be an item if it weren’t for Potter interfering the way he did.”

My head shot up at that. “Leave Harry out of your fantasies Justin! He…didn’t do anything to you. On the other hand, one, some, or several of my brothers might turn you back into another form of jackass if you keep bothering me.” The Wizard suddenly looked as if he’d been slapped. I decided to press my point. “Dean walked me into the village this morning. I’m here with him today, and we’ve been dating for quite a while now.”

“You mean the tall chap over there trying to make time with that Hufflepuff girl? I think her name’s Belinda Duncannon. Hmm…and here I thought old Dean had a penchant just for pretty redheads.”

Justin stood a bit taller at seeing the effect his own words were having on me. I already knew what Dean was doing across the crowded room. It hadn’t been the first time. It was The Game. Not all boys played it; my brothers didn’t (even the twins). Harry certainly wouldn’t. I wasn’t with Harry though. He didn’t look twice at Ron’s little sister. The boys who did all seemed to be interested in something different...something I was beginning to realize I didn’t like. It finally had taken a pompous Justin, as quick as a wink almost, to painfully get me to admit it to myself. I stood then, pulled my wand, stared deeply into the Wizard’s eyes, and sent a fire into them that I could see was scaring him. I was done being so weak. I was done being some prize.

“Er…uhm, need to get back to my friends now Gin,” Justin managed to stammer. He was looking over my shoulder, no doubt at yet another conquest; gauging the odds for success with someone who didn’t know him yet. “Give me a shout if you ever get tired of your ever-loving, ever-faithful Dean.”

Justin was gone before I could throw any sort of insult back at him. I was fairly certain that I didn’t want to. Sitting back down, I finally took a sip of my long-neglected butter beer. Perhaps my mood had soured it, but it didn’t taste at all good to me then. I chose instead just to stare at it there, almost hoping it could speak back to me, offering some kind, encouraging words. Maybe I should go find Luna. She’s always good for that.

My thoughts were thrown off when Dean suddenly jerked out the bench across from me and sat down hard. I instantly noticed two things. The first was that his shirt collar was all messed up, as if someone had been playing with it. The second was that Dean was more than a little angry about something.

“Oi, what was Finch-Fletchley doing over here talking to my girl? You belong to me now Gin, not with every bloke out there trying to get you to smile back at them! You hear me?” Dean paused and tried to read the new look in my eyes. He couldn’t, and it annoyed him all the more, but he decided to proceed slowly. “I’m…not going to be able to meet you right after the evening meal. I’ve got some…business to take care of. I’ll need you to sneak out after the bed check. Wait for me in the third floor broom closet. I’ll…”

Something snapped in me then. I was done being the prize. I was done playing the game at all! Jumping to my feet once again, I brought the table up with me, dumping it and the remains of our lunch onto Dean. It only took him five or six seconds to pull himself free and stand up. It took him less than a heartbeat to realize that his girlfriend was dumping him. The Bat Boogies came next. He was too preoccupied then to see one crying girl slip outside into the gently falling snow. The walk back to the school was one of the longest of my life.


*****



“Voulez-vous.
Take it now or leave it.
Now is all we get,
Nothing promised, no regrets.
Voulez-vous.
Ain’t no big decision.
You know what to do.
La question c’est voulez-vous,
Voulez-vous…



I moved to the club’s propped open door. I was barely taking in the music anymore, but I began to study the small room intensely. It seemed to be clean and well-maintained, but not necessarily a first-class establishment. The quality of the band amazed me though. What didn’t was how all the men and women inside seemed to be playing the very Game the song had described.

The men were quick to light the cigarettes, offer to buy the drinks, and compare notes with one another about their prospects. The women, in turn, seemed quick to weed out who they wanted to spend time with, but, regardless, never turning down a free glass of wine. More often than not, they were the ones who were really controlling the play. It absolutely fascinated me, while at the same time disgusting me.

My mind began to drift off again of its own volition. This time it was to another June night, just the summer before in fact. It had been in our friend’s backyard. It had been the most wonderful evening of my life.


*****



Harry took my arms and held me back. He put a hand on each shoulder and stared into my eyes. His own were lit up by the three-quarter moon that night.

“You told me a couple days ago that you already knew what I was about to say, and that I knew what you would say as well.” I nodded. “Well I’ll say it anyway. I am in love with you. I have been for a long time, and everyone knew it but me. I know you love me too, and tonight I was stronger because I could feel you inside me. I can’t promise we won’t lose each other in this fight, but I know I’m dead inside without you with me. Ginny, if you think you can put up with someone like me for a while, I’d…”

“Harry…shut up and kiss me you idiot!” And he did.


*****



Harry hadn’t fed me any lines. He hadn’t needed to resort to any slick moves, or false promises, or coy acts. Harry was just Harry. He was honest, and he was loving, and he wanted me to walk beside him–-not a step ahead or behind. His surprise that I would want someone like him was sincere, as was the joy in his eyes when I told him he was the only person I had ever wanted. The two of us were soul mates and we were best friends.

So why didn’t you want to talk to me tonight Harry? It’s just a stupid bus! You have no reason to feel that way, and even if you did, why couldn’t you share it with me instead of leaving me behind? I want to be a part of everything with you Harry! Everything!

The tears came then, and they were uncontrollable. I could just stand there at the club entrance, pouring every last bit of strength into my sobs. I was angry at myself for being so weak, but that just fed my crying all the more. I became aware of people looking toward me from inside, including the band members who had left the small stage, no doubt for a break in their performance.

Ginny Molly Weasley, stop it. Stop it this instant girl! You’re making a big fool out of yourself. Stupid! Stupid! Merlin, Harry why didn’t you want me to come out with you tonight! Blast it? Stop crying! My mind shouted at me, but it wasn’t enough.

I backed away several feet from the door to a sidewalk bench where I sat down. I hoped it was far enough away to no longer call attention to myself. Burying my face in my hands then, I could feel the tears literally rolling down my sleeves and onto my arms. I could also feel the touch of a gentle hand on my shoulder. My head came up. Embarrassment trumped any distress I had for Harry, and I pulled out a heavy handkerchief Mum makes every Weasley carry. A quick wipe of the eyes was enough to clear my vision to where I could actually see who had approached me. It was the pretty blond lady from the band with her three associates seven or eight steps behind her.

“Estes-vous bien ma chère?”

“I’m…sorry. I’m afraid that I don’t speak French. My sister-in-law Fleur has made some attempts to teach us, but…”

“Ah, English. It is not my native language, but I am much more comfortable with it than I am French. We are Swedish, you see. My name is Friga. What I asked was whether you are all right young miss.”

“I’m…I will be. It really is extremely silly. My boyfriend left our hotel with asking me to go with him. That’s all.” The woman didn’t seem even a bit convinced, and my embarrassment was redoubled. “I…suppose there is a bit more to it than that,” I admitted, eliciting a nod from Friga.

“I thought there might be. He must be a very special boy. I will not ask you if you are very much in love with him. Ah, there’s a small smile. What’s your name? You must be sixteen…seventeen?”

“My name’s Ginny Weasley. I was born in 1981, but I think Harry and I…all my family and friends as well…must be well over a hundred now. I’m afraid Harry stopped being a boy a long time ago. Yes, he is exceptionally special, and I do love him very, very much.”

“It sounds as if you’ve had a trying time Ginny. You must need and deserve such a good cry.” I saw that the second woman had joined us. Her sincere smile felt good. “My name is Arentha, by the way, and those two shy men back there are our husbands. I forget their names.”

The joke actually got me to smile as well. I felt much more comfortable with these women now, even though I’d known them for only a minute.

“We had a very bad year…and it involved a war. I’m sorry, but I can’t really tell you much about it. I heard your music as I was out looking for Harry, and I had to come and listen. Your last song was…”

“Perfect for a room full of lounge lizards,” Frida finished. “That is an American term, if you have not heard it before.”

“I haven’t, but we have a friend from the western United States, Spenser, traveling with us. I’ll ask him about it. Your music really is beautiful.”

“Thank you. We performed here a long time ago when we first came together. The owner is a dear, sweet friend who has fallen on hard times. His wife talked us into doing a few short sets for him tonight…for old time’s sake. You’re welcome to come inside to listen to the next one Ginny.”

Ginny thought about it, but only for a few seconds. She had to go see Harry. She had to decide on everything she wanted to say. Also, Ginny needed to give these nice people a better explanation for her foolish breakdown.

“No, I don’t think so, but thank you. I need to go find my Harry. It wasn’t so much about his not wanting me go out with him tonight. He can come and go as he pleases. It was more about my wanting us to face our demons, to actually do it, and then to finally move on with the rest of our lives together. Neither of us can do it without the other or wants to. Harry isn’t like the men in your song. He’s simply…incredible. It took something ridiculous, hurt feelings, to do it, but I’m finally going to talk to him about our future. Do you think you can understand all that?”

Both Muggle women were nodding their heads and grinning like fools at some no doubt silly girl’s words. So were their husbands who had finally come up to join us. I felt as if my tears had left me now, and the Swedish couples saw in their place a strength and maybe a new wisdom that impressed all of them…me as well. It amazed me. Faster than I can describe it to you here, a switch had been thrown. In breaking down, I had somehow flushed my mind of the diseased doubt building there. Now I needed to help Harry do the same thing.

“I know the first thing you need to tell your young man Ginny,” Frida told me then, and moved to whisper it in my ear.

My eyes must have gone wide, and I began to laugh. We chatted for short time, and then I took the time to hug each of my new friends in turn. The group seemed a bit surprised, but also amused, that I didn’t know where to find any of their record albums. Neither Diagon Alley nor The Ottery St. Cathchpole have a Wizardmart store. As I walked off, almost skipping now, I hoped the Swedes could fully realize what they had done for me with just a few minutes of kindness to a stranger.


*****



I wandered about the back streets for maybe another ten minutes after I left the club. I seemed to be feeling better with each passing step–-more so when the inklings of a plan started to form in my head. It was an absolutely insane one. It was the type of crazy idea that only Spenser would consider, perhaps to make a story a bit more interesting…uhm, or maybe interesting in the first place. Sorry old friend. By the time I was ready to Apparate to the Eiffel Tower, I had it worked out in my head, at least to where I had convinced myself to go through with it. What was the worst that could happen? Oh…right…that.

Yes, there was indeed something very important that I wanted to discuss with Harry. The thought of it both thrilled and frightened me. First, however, there was something else that I needed to do. A loud crack, a split-second of magic, and I was with him.


*****



“Ginny is everything all right?” he asked me. I was willing myself not to ask him the same question. “There’s something new…different in your face. I…don’t know…”

“I do Harry.”

I took his hand, and together we moved back to the very edge of the platform. We were far higher on the Tower than any mere tourist would be allowed to go, and the view was breathtaking. Naturally, anyone who plays Quidditch as we do would never be bothered by such heights. We were also fully aware of the incredible views such altitude could bring. His choice of locations for brooding had been perfect and absolutely appropriate.

“It’s an incredible city Harry. It’s not London, but then…”

“London’s not Paris,” he finished for me. Harry smiled, but it was strained. He was happy to have me there with him, but was he missing the medicinal solitude? “What was it you wanted to say to me Ginny?”

With my free left hand, I pulled out my wand, and gently tapped our joined hands. I had silently initiated the spell, and I hoped it would allow me another moment before he realized what I was doing. No, actually he wouldn’t think of it. I was the last person he would expect to go mental on him. A warm, golden glow enveloped the hands, and moved up our arms as far as the elbows. I could see then that he knew this magic.

“Ginny, you know how much I enjoy holding hands with you, but I don’t think it will be very practical making it permanent. I mean bathing and trips to the loo could be…challenging.” He was seriously studying my face now, more curious than concerned, and making light of it with a joke.

“Harry, would you be willing to take a chance on me?” I asked him in a barely audible voice.

“What? Of course, I would. You more than anyone…”

Before he could finish his thought, I bent my knees, launched myself off the French landmark, and took him with me.

“Cochise!” I screamed. Harry was too surprised…shocked to join me in it.

To this day, I have never had the opportunity to try Muggle skydiving. Those Wizards I’ve met who have, they favorably compared it to certain Quidditch maneuvers. In our case, just then, we had neither parachute nor broom however.

Down, down we went. Harry at first tried to put his free arm around me, no doubt futilely trying to protect me somehow. It was sweet and noble of him, but at the speed we were moving it would only make identifying the bodies a bit more difficult. I pushed him away, and I arched my back in much the same way a flyer does to intentionally stall their broom. It caused my body to spread out, but then also to have Harry tumble around haplessly, and me to start spinning.

I grabbed Harry’s jacket lapel. It made him turn to face me, which was a good thing. I cocked my head, stared into his eyes, and silently begged him to trust me. If he didn’t, we would be seriously dead in two or three more seconds. Harry told me he did when, a heartbeat later, he imitated my earlier maneuver, thus stabilizing our descent.

I raised my wand. “Carpe Retractum!” I shouted back at the Tower.

The spell, an old standard (especially in the Muggle computer games), is essentially the equivalent of a Wizarding cowboy lariat, or, in this case I hoped, a bungee cord. On a trip to London years before, my father and I had seen someone illegally jumping from one of the city’s bridges using such a tether. At Dad’s startled comment, another passerby had quickly explained how it was actually a popular sport, but generally not over the Thames. I had always wanted to try it. I had expected to do it solo however.

At the last possible second, the magical stream from my wand connected. As I had actually expected, its elasticity safely slowed then stopped our fall. Fortunately, the nature of the spell prevents the wand from being pulled from the user’s grasp, or so I’d been told. Harry’s and my feet were just inches from the ground when I disengaged the spell. He and I were already running from the area when I took the time to release our hands. Actually, Harry gripped mine all the tighter, but now intentionally.

A full ten minutes brought us to an empty side street, and then Harry pulled me into a narrow alley where he finally let go. I didn’t have to guess why he was panting so hard. It wasn’t just from the run. Harry didn’t wait to catch his breath before he started talking…yelling at me.

“Of all the maniacal, crazy stunts! Who do you think you are…Spenser? You could have been killed Ginny! If I had lost you… If something had happened to you…”

He continued to lay into me, and it made one of Mum’s howlers seem placid. I just stood there, intentionally forcing myself not to smile at his performance. It was wonderful! His first thoughts had been about me and how I would be killed. This noble git wasn’t even thinking about how hard the ground would be for him as well. Then I saw there were tears on Harry’s face now. It had worked!

Five minutes he carried on…ten minutes, and then it was fifteen that passed. The jump was, in point of fact, only referenced at the very beginning of his tirade.

“By the way, you’re supposed to yell Geronimo when you jump…not Cochise! Don’t you know your Apaches girl?” I had to bite my tongue at his correction.

The topic, as I expected, changed to the lost bus, and then to lost…fallen friends; to his having failed so many even in winning; to his dead parents, whom he missed so much; to how he should have done so many things differently. When the shouting turned to what a worthless piece of work he was however, and how I would be so very much better off with him, I had enough. I stepped in to throw my arms tightly around him, refusing to let go despite his trying to pull away from me. It took another minute of his fighting back, and I do mean he was physically hurting me, before Harry finally gave in and returned my embrace. We held each other for an eternity, only softly now, before I spoke to him again.

“Harry do you know why I love you so much? I mean the short answer?”

“It must be because the glasses make me look especially studious. You appreciate that in a man.” He was joking. He was breathing more calmly as well. I took both as a very good sign.

“No, you’re thinking of Hermione. When Ron proposed to her, she would only say yes if he agreed to purchase a pair of bifocals.”

“It seems so strange that they’re engaged now, but, at the same time, it’s the most natural thing in the world.” Harry gently let go of me, stepped back, and yet again took the time to study my face as best he could in the dark alleyway. “I’ve been thinking about the two of them a lot these past few days.”

“Have you?”

“I know why you did it now Ginny. I know that I needed this tonight. I feel…”

“Better…much better. I had myself a good strong cry myself a while ago. I knew it would help you as well, but don’t let me ever hear you talk that way about yourself again.” A big smile told me that the message had been received. He pulled out his own gift from Mum to wipe his eyes. “Harry, the long answer to my question would take me a week,” I continued, “but I did ask for the short form. I love you so much because you are real. You are so very, very real Harry. Everything else I could explain all wraps around that. Do you think you can understand?”

“I…think so Ginny, at least in a way. Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?”

There it was. It was time. I took his hand again, led him back to the street and then to the light coming from a lamp above a long closed bakery there. I inhaled twice, and slowly released it, before I could bring myself to speak.

“No Harry, that wasn’t it…at least not completely. This is. Harry, will you marry me?

If I was expecting surprise, it didn’t come. There were no words yet either. We just stood there, holding hands, staring into each other’s faces, at each other’s soft smiles. This time it wasn’t a study; it was an appreciation. His was a good face. It was one I knew better than even my own. I had never seen my own; only a reflection in a mirror or the odd photograph. They weren’t real. Harry was though.

“Ginny, you didn’t need to ask me to do that earlier,” he finally said. “I mean to take a chance on you. That’s impossible. You will always be a sure bet. We know each other too well. We trust each other completely. You were trying to remind me of that when we went off the Tower.”

“What? No Harry…well, maybe a little. Actually, I did it so when Spenser writes about tonight for us someday, he’ll have a bit more to make it readable.”

Sigh. “Well, he does need all the help he can get. Sorry Spense,” he told the night sky, wondering, as I did, if our friend’s ears were burning again. “You know, I was planning on asking you to marry me. You just beat me to it. I came out tonight to work it out in my head. I mean about how I was going to do it.”

I don’t know how much time passed before I realized that my jaw had dropped open. I allowed it to turn into a smile instead. That was why Harry hadn’t asked me along with him. That was a large part of it at least. With just a few words, he had lifted the weight of the world from my shoulders.

“Harry, if you would have asked me first, what would you have expected for an answer?”

“The same as my answer to you Ginny–yes. I would be proud…thrilled beyond all imagining to be your husband.”

His words just seemed to float through the air like mist over the water. Just like that, we were engaged. I still had a year of school. I still needed my parents’ blessing–a foregone conclusion. We still had a trip around the world to worry about (after we found the bus). None of it mattered just then. This was now the most wonderful evening of my life.

“Well don’t just stand there. Kiss me you crazy, red-haired Witch!” And I did.


*****



If you change your mind, I’m the first in line.
Honey I’m still free, take a chance on me.
If you need me, let me know, gonna be around.
If you got no place to go, if you’re feeling down,
Take a chance on me.
That’s all I ask of you honey.
Take a chance on me.


“I’m glad they’re still here Harry. I can’t believe that’s their final number. It’s perfect.”

I had really wanted Harry to meet the group, and we had made it just in time. A wave to the owner from the stage indicated to their friend that we should get a nice table, but, France or not, hard drinks were not offered us. We settled instead for a frosty lemon beverage. As we sat there, the expression on Harry’s face was as entertaining as the song. I think he was as astonished at who was performing for us as he’d been the moment we’d gone off the top of the Eiffel Tower. Hmm…Harry would know where to buy Muggle record albums.

When the last song had ended, the Swedes came to join us, and we honored them by announcing our engagement to them first. Harry and I had decided to save the news for everyone else until after we’d spoken to Mum and Dad. While the four seemed thrilled for us, I could tell that Muggle predilections made them wonder about our young age.

“Where we come from…our people often marry at a much earlier point in their lives. Divorces are surprisingly rare. We also live to be very, very old. Of course, Harry and I are relatively ancient now.”

“Ah…your war you mean,” Fida’s husband observed.

Harry gave first him, and then me, a curious look. It was gone as quickly as it appeared. Harry trusted me not to share too much.

The next half hour was spent with small talk and humorous stories of our families, our school days, and of the group’s many years of performing. I also noted that nothing was brought up again about the future wedding. They still weren’t sure, despite my words, about these two engaged teenagers. Well, what could you expect from Muggles?

We finally excused ourselves; exchanging mailing addresses for letters we knew we may never write. My mum did send them wedding invitations. They weren’t able to attend, but did send us a beautiful, handmade quilt and a blown crystal ewer as gifts. Neither Harry nor I ever saw them again, at least not in person, but if you visit our homes at either the Broom Farm or Grimmauld Place, quite often you will hear their songs being played there (Muggle compact disc players are absolutely incredible). The music is a welcome reminder of how a few sympathetic words helped me take the biggest step of my life. Yes, I do mean when I proposed to Harry, but the Eiffel Tower is, in fact, 1,063 feet tall.

Mischief managed!



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