Summary: The world was bleak from the war. It was dangerous, it was treacherous, it was full of uncertainty... But it was Christmas. And so at Hogwarts, everything was all right again, if only for a little while.
Rating: PG
Categories: Post-HBP, December Engagement Challenge (2006-6)
Characters: None
Genres: None
Warnings: None
Challenges: None
Series: None
Published: 2006.12.18
Updated: 2007.01.01
Index
Chapter 1: Chapter 1
Chapter 2: Chapter 2
Chapter 3: Chapter 3
Chapter 4: Epilogue
Chapter 1: Chapter 1
Potter47
I
The fire burnt bright in the Gryffindor common room on the evening before Harry's last winter break. Its light flickered out upon the four students in the room, so that every moment they all looked a little bit different than they had before. Harry and Ginny were in two of the armchairs, Ron was spread out on a couch, and Hermione was standing, yelling at Ron.
Crookshanks was curled in front of the fire, listening to the flames crackle with warmth, and the other flames crackle in a very different manner.
"What is it with you and Christmas, Ron...?" hissed Hermione.
"What do you mean?" said Ron.
"I mean, we always fight on Christmas, and I'm sick and tired of it."
Crookshanks was so dreadfully tired of the bickering between those two... and yet, so deliciously tired in general, which made the fire feel so very pleasant. He hadn't had a good catnap in hours. When would the humans shut up?
"Well, maybe it's not just me, did you ever think of that, huh, Hermione? Maybe you've got a problem with Christmas."
"I do not," said Hermione.
"Well neither do I."
"Then why are we always fighting--"
Suddenly, Ginny spoke up: "Because you're ALWAYS fighting, that's why," she said. "Why don't you just apologize, Ron?"
"Apologize? For what? I didn't do anything--"
"You've got to be kidding me--" said Hermione.
"What? I didn't..."
Crookshanks squeezed all four of his eyelids tighter, hoping that perhaps he could block it all out and fall asleep. But something was keeping him awake, for some reason.
"Ron, you were the one who started this, you said--"
"I didn’t start anything--"
"Yes you--"
Ginny turned to Harry. "Why don’t we ever argue like that?" she asked.
Harry blinked. "What?" he asked. "You want to argue?"
"No, of course not, but I've just realized we haven't had an argument in ages."
"Well, I don't know," said Harry, and he stared at the fire.
Ginny made a face. "You seem odd, Harry," she said.
"Thanks?"
"Come on, you know what I mean."
"I do?" said Harry, and then his eyes widened, as though he'd said something that surprised him, and he closed his mouth very tight.
"Yes, you do," said Ginny, shrewdly. "Do you have something on your mind? You can tell me, you know that..."
"No, there's nothing in my--on my mind," said Harry.
"You sure?"
"Yeah," he said. Once he and Ginny had stopped talking, Ron and Hermione's bickering seemed only to grow louder:
"You are so aggravating, Ron..."
"Oh thanks, you're not exactly easy to deal with yourself--"
"I don't know why I even bother--"
Crookshanks ears perked up. This didn't sound good.
"Well, me either. You obviously can't stand me..."
Crookshanks unfurled himself from his spot under the fire, and stretched.
"Sometimes that's really true, Ron, that's really true. Sometimes I honestly think that maybe we should--"
His paws padded as quickly as they could over to the couch where Ron was laying, and jumped up on him.
Ron started, nearly launching Crookshanks off, but before he knew it Crookshanks was rubbing his face against Ron's, nestling onto his chest. Ron smiled at him.
"Ugly little furball," he said affectionately.
Hermione's expression loosened, and she smiled a little smile as well. "Aw, Crook's got a new pillow."
Ginny grinned, and when she spoke, Harry suddenly remembered that he existed. He'd been absorbed in Ron and Hermione's row and forgotten that he was even there.
"I bet Crookshanks'd love to share his new pillow with you, Hermione," Ginny said.
"Yeah," said Ron, rubbing his chin on Crookshanks' forehead. "We've got plenty of room."
At first Hermione seemed to want to resist, but then Crookshanks upped the volume of his purring so that everyone in Gryffindor Tower could hear it, and she gave in.
"Oh, all right," she said. Ron sat up carefully to make room for Hermione on the couch, and Crookshanks didn't scratch him as he did so. Hermione put an arm round Ron and leaned her head against his shoulder.
"He's such a beautiful cat," she said.
Ron chuckled, although amazed at such an opportunity: "No he's not, but he's sure got a beautiful owner."
Crookshanks kneaded Ron's chest a bit--either in response to the insult or to the reference to an "owner."
Hermione smiled. "That was such a stupid line, Ron."
"Sorry," he said.
"It's OK," she said.
And Crookshanks knew that it was. The crisis had been averted, if only for a little while.
Harry was watching the canopy above his four-poster bed with great interest. Nighttime had fallen long ago, but he could not sleep. He felt none of the ease that usually came with the end of schoolwork, or classes, or teachers. He wasn't looking forward to the snowball fights, or the presents, or even the scrumptious food that the house-elves would be sending up in just a few days, for the Christmas feast.
No--this particular Christmas was very different from all the others he'd spent at Hogwarts. This year, Harry was in love... and as such, he was terrified.
What if she says no, what if she says no, what if she says no...?
The words had long-since evolved from a mere mantra to a mantra-ray, swimming stealthily around and around in Harry's mind as he began to drown in his own anxiety.
What if she says no, what if she says no...?
He thought about it and thought about it and tried to think of something else but only managed to think of it more. This was why he had failed at Occlumency--unwanted thoughts only gathered nearer to him.
What if she says--CLATTER.
Harry shot up in bed.
What on earth was that? he asked himself. It had sounded as though it had come from the roof. He stood, grabbed for his wand at his bedside table, and put on his dressing gown.
"Ron!" he said, shaking the boy in the next bed. "Ron, get up."
"Wha...?" Ron said, still very much asleep. Harry saw that Crookshanks was curled up on his chest again, and wondered why the cat had taken such an interest in him.
"There's someone on the roof."
Just as he said it, there arose another clatter: this one sounded very much more alive, almost like an animal.
Ron screwed up his sleepy eyes. "It's just the reindeer," he murmured. He made as though he were going to roll over in bed, but remembered Crookshanks and abandoned the attempt.
"Get up!" said Harry. He listened for a moment: "Come on, Ron, they're getting closer...!"
"Go back to bed," said Ron. "We can open the presents in the morning."
Harry gave up on him, and left the dorm, heading up the tower stairs further and realizing just now that he'd never been all the way up. Was there even a door to the roof...?
Up and up and up, he ran, and then, without warning, the stairway ended and Harry nearly ran face-first into the door--why, yes, there was a door--at the top.
He could hear the roof noises much better now: there was some sort of animal out there, and Harry could hardly imagine what it must have been.
He put his ear to the door, and heard muffled voices.
"You have the key, right?" said one, indicating that there must have been more than one person out there.
"I thought you had it."
"He gave it to you."
"But I gave it to YOU, before we left."
"Oh. Yes. Then I certainly hope I have it..." And a moment later: "Ah. Here it is. See, I told you I had it, no need to get all worked up."
"Just open the damn door, it's bleeding cold out here."
Another moment, and Harry heard the key in the lock. Before Harry had the time to realize he had ought to move out of the way, the door unlocked with a click and flung open, knocking Harry to the floor.
"Bloody hell, Harry!" said the shocked voice on the other side. "What do you think you're doing up here?"
Harry looked up, and saw a very peculiar sight, not at all what he had expected. Standing in the doorway at the top of Gryffindor Tower were none other than the Weasley twins, both dressed in full Santa Claus regalia. George was leading an out-of-place-looking reindeer by the reins.
"I heard something," said Harry. "I thought it was Death Eaters."
"Don't be silly, Harry," said Fred with a laugh. "No Death Eaters would be daft enough to ride a sleigh to Hogwarts. You've got to be a bit less paranoid."
Harry blinked.
"You rode a sleigh?"
"Oh, yeah," said George with a grin.
"One-horse-open, except with this poor guy instead!" said Fred, giving the reindeer a rough pat.
"You should try it--it's the only way to fly."
"But... why?"
"To deliver you lot your presents, of course!"
"Since you can't come to the Burrow for Christmas, we're bringing the Burrow to you."
"Don't worry, we don't got Mum in the back of the sleigh."
"Speaking of Mum, where is dear Ronniekins?"
"We wanted to surprise you all at the same time, you see..."
"He didn't want to wake up," Harry said.
"Well then I reckon we'd best go wake him, he wouldn't want to miss his dear big brothers, would he?" said Fred.
"Of course not," said George, with a grin.
Crookshanks was dreaming.
In the dream, there was a mouse in the Gryffindor common room. It was running and running and Crookshanks was chasing and chasing but no matter how fast he chased, the mouse was always gaining speed, getting farther and farther away. Finally, the mouse ran towards the portrait hole, and Crookshanks followed it into the corridor, where the Fat Lady's portrait snapped shut with a clatter behind them.
Suddenly, however, as Crookshanks' paws touched the cold stone of the corridor floor, the mouse was gone. Either it had gained enough speed to get around a corner, or else it had simply vanished, but all Crookshanks knew was that he had lost track of it.
He turned around to go back inside, to go back to bed, but the Fat Lady's portrait was sealed. He meowed helplessly, but even if the Lady had been awake, it seemed unlikely that the password would be "Meow."
And so Crookshanks was locked out.
If only he had caught the mouse before it was too late.
Chapter 2: Chapter 2
Author's Notes: I dunno if I'm going to get the final chapter up before the deadline, but I'm gonna try. Wish me luck. =]
Potter47
II
The world was bleak, from the war. It was dangerous, it was treacherous, it was full of uncertainty...
But it was Christmas. And so at Hogwarts, everything was all right again, if only for a little while.
The next day, while Crookshanks was once again warming by the Gryffindor fire, Harry, Hermione, and the four Weasleys were outside, having a snowball fight.
Harry had somehow wound up with the twins on his side, versus Ron and the girls, and they were quite the allies. George had known some spell that had built a very, very adequate snow fort, with a turret for each of them to hide behind, and a deep trench full of snowballs. Ron and Ginny were attempting assaults on the fort, while Hermione worked behind a small pile of snow to conjure up a base of their own.
"I've never actually looked up snow fort spells, if you'd believe it," she said, biting her lip.
"Then what on earth did you do in the library all those years?" jeered Fred.
Then Hermione's face alighted, and she pointed her wand. In another moment, a great castle at least twice the size of the twins' shot up in the air from the snow bank, and she, Ron, and Ginny disappeared within it.
"Damn," said George, and he ducked down out of view. Fred and Harry did the same.
"There's no way we'll be able to hit them from here," said George, thinking. He whispered: "I'm going to crawl out there and try to infiltrate. You two keep up appearances."
They nodded, and George crawled away outside.
Fred jumped up, and launched a snowball at the castle--it biffed harmlessly off of the outer wall and dissolved to the ground just as another ball flew towards him. He dove out of the way.
"That was close," said Fred.
"A bit," said Harry.
Then, out of the blue, Fred said: "You know, Harry, you and I need to have a talk."
Harry blinked. "We do?"
"Oh, yes we do."
Harry stood quickly, launched a ball at the castle to no effect, and ducked back down again.
"About what?" he asked, although he had an odd feeling he knew.
Fred's turn: up, throw, biff, down.
"About Ginny, of course. Your letter's all mum and dad've been talking about, you know."
Harry felt the blood rush to his face.
"Is it?" he said, taking a futile shot.
"Yup," said Fred. He moved a few steps over to George's turret, stood, and threw--to throw off the scent.
"And what do they, uh... think?"
Fred laughed. "Come on, Harry, this is my parents we're talking about, they're head over heels for you."
Harry let out a breath he hadn't quite noticed he'd been holding. "Well," he said, "I hadn’t gotten a reply, so I've been kinda nervous..."
"Of course you got a reply," said Fred. Up, throw, biff, down. "We're you're reply."
"What?"
Fred laughed. "You didn't really buy that we're just here to hang around with you lot, did you?"
"Maybe?"
"Well, no. Mum and dad sent us to help you out. Mum has certain plans in mind regarding the ring, and she wants to make sure you don't flub up. That is, unless you already bought it?"
Harry laughed a nervous sort of laugh. "Uh, no, of course not."
This time they both went at once: up, throw, biff, down, but Harry was too slow on the down part, and took a snowball to the chest.
"Ow," he said.
"We're gonna sneak you to Hogsmeade tonight," said Fred.
"Tonight?"
"Yeah, of course. You've only got two days, after all."
"Two days? Till what?"
"Till the proposal."
Harry furrowed his brow. "How do you figure?"
"That snowball hit you in the head, Harry?" asked Fred.
"No--"
"Well, what's in two days?"
"Christmas--"
"Exactly. And unless you feel like waiting till Valentine's, you'd better be ready on Christmas morning."
Harry swallowed, and fell silent.
"I thought so," said Fred.
A shriek emerged from the castle, in Ginny's voice, and then the loud laugh of George.
"AHA!"
Fred grinned. "The sound of victory."
The only human left in Gryffindor Tower that night was Ginny, and so Crookshanks--bored, and curious--stood from his spot by the fire, stretched, and headed up the girls' staircase.
When he found Ginny, she was laying in her bed with a book. Crookshanks jumped up to join her with a meow, and she jumped--startled by the sudden furry presence.
"Crookshanks, what are you doing here?" asked Ginny, voice full of surprise and something else.
Crookshanks chose not to respond.
He noticed then, what the "something else" had been. There were tears in Ginny's eyes, and they made her voice sound a bit stuffy. She took a deep breath.
"What?" she said. "You're looking at me funny."
He looked down to the book in her lap, trying to see what it was.
"Oh, this?" said Ginny, pulling him closer--rather abruptly--so that he could see. "This is a photo album, my mum and dad's." A beat, and then: "Their wedding."
Crookshanks looked at the pages--a young redhaired woman in a long white dress, and a redhaired young man along with her in dress robes.
Ginny gasped--almost a hiccup. Then:
"Oh, Crookshanks, I'm so nervous," she said, petting his fur a bit too roughly. "I think he's gonna do it, I really do, and I dunno if I'm ready... It's driving me crazy..."
The hand stopped petting.
"Of course I'm going crazy, i'm talking to a cat." She looked down at him, then, and cupped his face in her hand, leading him to look up at her. "Do you have any idea what I'm going on about?" she asked, in a hopeless sort of voice.
"Meow," he said, and her eyebrows shot up for a moment, before lowering again with a laugh.
"I'm going nuts," she said, shaking her head.
Suddenly, the door slammed open, sending Crookshanks off the bed. Hermione was standing in the doorway, looking furious. She was sobbing.
"I did it," she said. "It's over, he pushed me too far, I really did it."
Ginny's eyes widened. "Did what?" she asked, hoping she didn't already know the answer...
Hermione practically threw herself at one of the empty beds, her hand over her eyes--the tears splattered out anyway. Crookshanks jumped up on the bed, to try to comfort her.
"I dumped Ron," she said.
Chapter 3: Chapter 3
Author's Notes: I'm still going to attempt the epilogue, but I believe this meets the requirements for the challenge, so I'm not quite as stressed. =]
Potter47
III
It was Christmas morning, and the presents were all unwrapped. The wrapping paper was gone--Crookshanks had had his fill of batting it around the common room floor, and so someone had gotten rid of it. For all intents and purposes, the holiday was over until the Christmas feast began that evening.
Harry had been trying to get Ginny alone all morning. He couldn't believe it, but he was gonna do it--and he wanted to do it quickly, before the twins' could take over once again.
They'd taken him to get the ring two days ago, and the whole time he'd been in Hogsmeade, he'd hardly said a word. They'd taken him in the store, looked around for him, and picked out a ring all by themselves, according to Mrs. Weasley's "specifications." They'd only conferred with him when it came to his paying for it.
Now he had that ring in his pocket. He still wasn't sure he wanted to use it, though.
"Ginny," he'd said, at breakfast. "Ginny," he'd said at lunch. "Ginny," he'd said, it felt like fifty times today.
"Could I talk to you for a minute?" he'd say.
"Sure," she'd say--but then, somehow, they never talked for a minute, they never even talked for thirty seconds. Somebody interrupted, over and over, to ask to pass the blood pudding or to do this or do that or just for the sake of talking. Hermione and Ron had been more distant than Harry had ever seen them, and so they'd sat on opposite sides of Harry and Ginny at meals--who then had to pass messages between the two, who weren't speaking.
Harry was about to try one more time--everyone had just been outside again, and now, when everyone else was still changing into fresh clothes, Ginny was in the Gryffindor common room, alone.
But as Harry attempted to meet her there, he was stopped on the boys' stair by Fred and George.
"We've noticed you've had a bit of trouble, my boy," said George.
"We've got it all planned out," said Fred.
"You do?" said Harry, wary.
"Of course," said Fred.
"Give me the ring," said George, pulling something out of his pocket. Harry handed it to him, uncertain.
"What is that?" he asked. It was a strange, green leafy thing, and now George was tying the ring onto it.
"Mistlefinger," said Fred.
"What?" said Harry.
"You heard me," said Fred.
"But what's mistlefinger?"
"Ah, it's our latest creation," said George, struggling, apparently, to get the ring just so.
"This little bit of mistlefinger is designed to give you two the most romantic, perfect proposal circumstances imaginable," said Fred with a grin.
"Even you won't be able to bungle things up now," said George.
"I haven't bungled anything up," said Harry, "I just haven't gotten a chance--"
"Sure, sure..."
"Of course, of course..."
"But let's do things our way this once, hmm...?" said Fred. Harry scoffed softly--he'd been doing things their way since they'd arrived on the rooftop.
"Fine," said Harry. "What do I do?"
"Nothing," said George. "You just let it go."
"Go along with it, whatever it does, just go with the flow and everything'll work out all right."
"You're positive?"
"Harry, have we ever done you wrong?"
"Don't answer that."
Before Harry knew what was going on, George had let go of the mistlefinger, and it had shot into the air like a Snitch.
"Go!"
Harry quickly followed the mistlefinger down into the common room, where Ginny was standing--it looked like she'd just shot up from where she'd been sitting, in alarm.
"Did you see that?" she said. "It looked like some plant thing just flew across the room and out the portrait hole..."
"Really?" said Harry. "That's weird."
"Come on," said Ginny. "Let's follow it."
And follow it they did. They followed it out the portrait hole and down the seventh floor corridor--they followed it down the marble staircase, and across the entrance hall. They followed it outside.
"Sheesh, it's cold," said Ginny as they paused, outside the oak front doors. "What the hell is it, do you think?"
"Probably about thirty or something," said Harry.
"Wha--? Oh--I don't mean the temperature, silly, I mean the plant thing!"
"Oh, that," said Harry. "It looked kinda like mistletoe."
"You're right," said Ginny. "It did... but what on earth is mistletoe doing flying across the school?"
Harry didn't even know what he was saying, but the words kept flying right on out: "Maybe it's one of the enchanted ones that hover over people in the great hall. Maybe it's escaped or something."
"I bet you're right," said Ginny. "Let's keep going, I want to catch the stupid thing now. It's like Quidditch."
"You sure?"
"Why not?"
"I dunno," said Harry.
Ginny grinned. "Race you to it," she said, and took off running after the little green speck.
Harry shook his head, grinning despite himself. Say, he loved this girl.
* * *
The mistlefinger led them on and led them on, until it reached its apparent destination--one of the great snow castles they'd been using for their snowball fights the last few days.
It flew inside the smaller of the two, the twins', and Ginny followed, and then Harry followed Ginny. As he stepped inside, however, he heard a sound he never thought he'd hear: a snow door slamming.
He whipped around, and saw that the snow castle's opening had just closed down behind him.
"What the--" he began.
"Oh no," said Ginny, thoughts of the mistlefinger forgotten in a moment. "This isn't a trap, is it?"
She pulled her wand out, looking around for signs of Death Eaters.
"No," said Harry, shaking his head. "I don't think so."
He shook his head--this was just like the twins'. Trapping them in a stupid snow castle... this was their idea of "romantic." How romantic, to be trapped in the freezing cold--but as long as they were "cozy." Grr...
He rammed himself against one of the snow walls, but it wouldn't budge.
He was angry now. What on earth business of theirs was this? Why couldn't they just leave him alone and let him do things his way...? Why did they have to interfere--first with the ring, and then--
"Come on," said Ginny then, and Harry looked around, but it seemed she wasn't talking to him. She was jumping up at the mistlefinger, trying to grab it, but it was just jumping up higher in the air to spite her. "It's got something," she said. "There's something gold on one of those leaves..."
Harry just watched her, his anger settling down to misery. Or miserableness, rather. He just felt miserable all of a sudden. This was all wrong.
He plopped himself down on the snow and watched her for a minute, before she noticed he'd fallen silent. Then she stopped jumping and looked round.
"What's wrong?" she said.
"Everything," he said.
"What?"
He sighed. She came and sat down next to him.
"What happened?" she said. "You were fine a minute ago--"
Harry shook his head. "I haven't been fine for awhile," he said. "For the longest time, I've been trying to ask you--"
He was cut short by the mistlefinger, buzzing its way down to the space between them, and thumping Ginny's hand over and over.
"It's--it's a ring," she said, then, and then she swallowed hard, realization dawning on her face. "Oh Lord..."
She tried to take her hand away, but the mistlefinger moved in such a way that it fitted the ring right over her--well, right over her finger.
"I've been trying to ask you if you'd marry me," finished Harry, pathetically.
Ginny's eyes widened, and her mouth fell open--she was shocked, even if she wasn't surprised. She didn't say anything.
Harry kept talking, to fill the silence, he kept talking faster and faster:
"I've been trying to get you alone all day. And that ring, you remember the other day when the twins and me went down to the trophy room 'cause they wanted to look at the Quidditch cup we won in my third year?"
Ginny nodded.
"Well, we didn't go to the trophy room, we went to Hogsmeade, so they could pick out that ring."
Ginny blinked.
"The twins picked it out? You asked the twins to--"
"No," said Harry, very, very aware that she still hadn't answered him. "I asked your parents' permission, and they wanted the twins to pick it out. Well, not them--your mum. She wanted them to make sure it met her 'specifications,' that's what they called them."
Ginny didn't say anything.
"To be honest," said Harry, spilling his guts without trying, "I already got a ring. I already had one, I mean."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring box, and opened it. He showed it to her.
"It was my mum's. I found it in a box in the attic in Privet Drive, last summer. But..." He swallowed--why wasn't she saying anything? "But the twins said that I should listen to your mum, and that made sense, 'cause she's your mum and she should know what to do better than me. But really. This is all wrong, this is all wrong..."
He let out a breath, and just gave up. "You still haven't said anything," he said.
"What do you mean?"
"I uh... I kinda wanted an answer about the whole 'marry me' thing...?"
"Oh!" said Ginny. "You didn't... you didn't ask me, I thought you didn't ask me. You said 'I've been trying to ask if you'd marry me,' you never actually asked..."
"Oh," said Harry, taking another breath. He got off his bum, and--not really knowing what he was doing--got onto one knee.
"Um," he said, taking an awkward hold of Ginny's hand, "will you marry me?"
She hesitated, and then, confident:
"No."
Harry nearly fell over.
"What?" he said.
Ginny shook her head. "I can't, Harry, you know I can't."
He blinked. "Why the hell can't you?"
She narrowed her eyes. "Why the hell do you think?" she said, and then she stood up.
She waved an arm around at their surroundings. "This isn't you, Harry," she said. "This isn't us. I don't want my boyfriend sounding miserable when he's proposing to me--would you?" She took a few deep breaths, then: "Harry, why on earth did you listen to them?"
"Because--"
"No," said Ginny.
"What?"
"No," she said again. "Whatever you're gonna say, it's gonna be stupid. God, you can be such an idiot sometimes, Harry. I love you, but you can be such an idiot."
She grabbed the ring the mistlefinger had given her off her finger and threw it away--it lodged in the snow wall, and stuck like some sort of tiny, golden wall hanging. Then she lunged down at the box that was still in Harry's hand.
She was kind of scaring him--and all he could do was watch.
"This, Harry," she said, pointing at his mum's ring, "this is you. This is us. You and me, just one day, maybe talking about stuff, like we do. Talking about real stuff, about the war, about your parents. We're talking and then suddenly you say, 'Hey, Gin,' and you reach in your pocket. 'I, uh, found this last summer,' you'd say. And then you'd hand it to me. And I'd open it, and my breath would catch in my throat, and I'd realise what you're doing and all these thoughts would race through my head, Am I ready? and all that. And you'd say, 'It was my mum's wedding ring. I was, uh... wondering if you'd like to have it.'"
Ginny was on fire, now--it was a wonder that the snow castle wasn't melting to the ground.
"And you'd get down on your knee, and you'd ask me, 'Gin... I love you. Will you marry me?' and I would say yes, I would scream it if I had to, because that would be real, Harry Potter, that would be us.'"
She fell silent. Harry didn't know what to say.
"I'm sorry, Gin," he said, and she nodded.
"It's OK," she said. "Now get your bum off that snow before it falls off."
She reached out a hand. "Come on," she said. "Let's get out of here."
He took hold of the hand and got to his feet, but once he was there, he still didn't let go.
"Uh," he began, "did I... did I mess things up, Gin? I mean..."
"Yeah, you messed things up," she said--then she smiled. "But you didn't mess this up." She squeezed his hand. "I love you, and that's not gonna change."
"So someday, you think--"
"Yeah," said Ginny. "When we're ready. We're obviously not, yet. When we are, we'll know--and you won't have to worry about what my mum thinks. That's not important."
She closed the ring box, still in her other hand, with a snap!, and pressed it against his chest. "Don't lose it," she said.
He smiled. "I won't," he said.
Author's note: Now it's just the epilogue left. =]
Chapter 4: Epilogue
Potter47
Epilogue
Crookshanks lay once more before the fire--the last chance he would get to do so, before the clocks struck twelve and the New Year rolled in.
The twins were doing their best to make light of the situation--they'd nearly had a heart attack each when Harry and Ginny had returned still very much unengaged--and Harry and Ginny themselves were having a perfectly good time themselves.
Ron and Hermione, however, were doing their best to drag the levity down for everyone.
They still refused to speak to each other, even after a week, and Crookshanks had nearly given up hope. He would have given up hope too, if he hadn't known very well that both of them wanted more than anything to make amends--Crookshanks had spent his nights alternating between their rooms, and had overheard plenty of conversations.
And so this New Year's Eve was an awkward one in Gryffindor Tower. The twins had lots of noisemakers and candy and other such things, and Harry and Ginny had each other. But Ron and Hermione only had their stares at the fire and their grumpy observance of the others.
Crookshanks stood up, and stretched--one more time--and decided that this was it. He had had enough.
"Meow," he said, but no one paid him any mind.
He walked to the portrait hole, legs still a little wobbly from his rest, and went out into the corridor without anyone noticing his absence. He was more awake now, with the cold stone beneath his paws, and so he began to move quicker, quicker, until his waddle transformed into a bit of a feline run.
Back in the common room, the twins were talking to Ron and Hermione.
"So, Ron," said Fred in a whisper. "Why so glum?"
"Hermione," murmured George, so that Ron could not hear, "you look positively dreadful. Feel like talking about it?"
"Not particularly," said Hermione.
"None of your business," said Ron.
Ron chanced a quick glance at Hermione just as Hermione had deemed it safe to dart a glance towards Ron--their eyes met for a moment and quickly resumed their previous stares.
"Oh Lordy," said Fred. "What'd you even do, Ronniekins?"
"What'd he even do, Hermione?"
"I didn't do anything!" said Ron, whisper-yelling.
"It's not that he did anything," said Hermione, bitterly, as though she'd much rather not talk about it. "It's just... we can't go two seconds without snapping down each other's throat, does that seem like a healthy relationship to you?" She bit her lip, and it seemed like she'd forgotten she was talking to one of the twins. "And... well, this time of year always brings out the worst in him... in us. Why? Shouldn't it be the other way around?"
"I see," said Fred.
"I see," said George.
"Well, hope springs eternal," they said in unison. Then George whispered, to Hermione: "That's what the New Year's all about, after all."
"One minute!" shouted Fred, grinning. The twins had a box of fireworks ready for midnight, and George stood with his wand ready to light them as his brother counted down.
"Forty-five...!"
The portrait hole opened without anyone noticing.
"Thirty!"
Crookshanks trotted carefully back in towards the group by the fire, making sure he kept a firm grip of the thing in his mouth. He looked around at all the humans, at Fred and George with the fireworks, at Harry and GInny smiling and speaking words to each other that couldn't be heard over Fred's countdown.
"Fifteen seconds...! Fourteen..."
Ron sat on one end of the long couch--on which he'd been spread out on the week before--and Hermione on the other. Now that the twins had left, they had the whole couch to themselves--and from the frequent "stealthy" glances they were throwing, they certainly knew it.
"Ten! Nine! Eight...!"
Crookshanks took the last steps, and jumped up on the couch between Ron and Hermione. Hermione smiled her first real smile of the night.
"Five! Four!"
"What've you got there, boy?" she said, petting him. "You have something in your mouth, Crooks."
"Three...! Two...! One...!"
Crookshanks opened his mouth, and amongst the myriad of fireworks that enveloped the common room, a small, leafy thing darted towards the ceiling, making Hermione jump a foot in the air.
"HAPPY NEW YEAR!" shouted the twins'. Harry and Ginny kissed. Ron looked up at the leafy thing.
"Is that mistletoe?" he said, softly--barely audible amongst the chaos.
"I don't know," said Hermione.
Now that the fireworks had gone off, the others had forgotten about Ron and Hermione completely. They were practically alone, despite the dozens of fiery companions that danced above their heads.
"It looks like it," said Ron.
"Yeah, it does," said Hermione.
Their hearts were beating fast, very fast, and words were struggling and struggling to form in Ron's mind.
"You know, er..." he began. "You know what you said the other day? I mean, about us?"
Hermione nodded.
"Well, it's the New Year, isn't it," said Ron. "And the New Year's all about doing things differently. I was wondering if maybe... if maybe we could..."
"Try again?" said Hermione, and there was something very different in her voice, something neither Ron nor Crookshanks had heard before--this sort of raw hope that neither of them could define.
Ron nodded.
"I'd like that," she said simply.
The mistletoe darted down in a flash and bonked Hermione on the head, and then bonked Ron as well.
He blinked. "That's some strange mistletoe," he said.
Hermione nodded.
"I think it's trying to tell us something," she said, and then she leaned over and kissed him--lightly, ever so lightly, as though it was their first kiss. Ron laughed a odd little laugh. Hermione smiled.
Crookshanks purred.
Author's Note: Happy New Year, everybody! =] I actually finished it...! I'm shocked... I know it was quite the adventure to write. It started off easy and then I had writer's block till about nine thirty this evening--the night the challenge is due. I hoe you enjoyed reading it nearly as much--yeah, I know that's cliche, but it's the holidays, this is the time of year when cliches are in fashion. =]
Please let me know what you thought in a review--they'll make my New Year. =D