Harry and the Yuletide Engagement by sapphire200182
Summary: Harry is elated. Mere weeks after Voldemort’s defeat, he is going to propose to Ginny! But the inadvertent exploits of the bumbling Weasley twins coupled with a more shadowy opponent might just get in the way of Harry’s and Ginny’s happiness! Written for Sink In Your Eyes Christmas Engagement 2006 Challenge. My first challenge fic, please don’t be so harsh if I accidentally break a ruling…
Rating: PG
Categories: December Engagement Challenge (2006-6)
Characters: None
Genres: None
Warnings: None
Challenges: None
Series: None
Published: 2006.12.29
Updated: 2006.12.29
Harry and the Yuletide Engagement by sapphire200182
Chapter 1: Act 1: The One Ring
Author's Notes: Summary: Harry is elated. Mere weeks after Voldemort’s defeat, he is going to propose to Ginny! But the inadvertent exploits of the bumbling Weasley twins coupled with a more shadowy opponent might just get in the way of Harry’s and Ginny’s happiness! Written for Sink In Your Eyes Christmas Engagement 2006 Challenge. My first challenge fic, please don’t be so harsh if I accidentally break a ruling…
Disclaimer: I do not own any quotations, characters, anything by JK Rowling or anyone else, nor do I intend to gain any monetary benefit by my usage of stuff not belonging to me here.
Author’s Note: I have done my best to stick to the rules, but forgive me for exceeding the 10, 000-word mark! It’s a really nice story, please please read and review!
Challenge: As thick as Harry can be, he finally realizes he’s madly in love with Ginny and wants to spend the rest of their lives together. Therefore, over the Christmas holidays in his seventh year, he plans to propose to Ginny. He expects he will be staying with the Weasleys at the Burrow.
The Weasley Twins like Harry and Ginny and try to ensure they have a lot of quality time to share over the Winter break. Their plans actually interfere with what Harry has in mind. Harry tries to dodge the twins’ plans and still make his proposal special.
The author’s challenge is to write a story to include:
1. Describe Harry’s adventure in getting the perfect ring.
2. Explain three things the Twins do that interfere with the couple and how Harry gets out of one of them.
3. Tell how one person nearly ruins all of Harry’s plans.
4. Describe Harry’s proposal to Ginny.
5. Describe a very unusual Christmas Day.
Rules:
1. All general submission rules apply. Huge stories over 10,000 words are discouraged but not prohibited. R-rated stories are allowed but discouraged. Judges are not required to read stories over 10,000 words or any R-rated stories.
2. All entries must be submitted under The Christmas Engagement (6-2006) sub-category under SIYE Challenge and be submitted by midnight EST, December 31, 2006. But I might not be home this New Year’s Eve at midnight to close the Challenge.
3. Multiple chapters are allowed as long as all the requirements are in the chapter(s) that are submitted by the deadline.
4. The categories for judging are Best Overall, Very Romantic, Humor, and Adventure.
Bonus phrases for extra creativity are the following. Using any or all of them is not required. A good, creative story will always count much stronger than any bonus.
· “Look at all this stuff.”
· “And the ruby means…what…”
· “Are you sure about this?”
· “There is no bloody way he/she could know.”
· “Now, if we could only get him/her out of the way.”
· “You mean all night?”
· “If your brothers only knew…(what)…”
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ACT 1: The One Ring
The Burrow,
21 December
“I'm dreaming of a white Christmas,
Just like the ones I used to know,
Where the treetops glisten,
and children listen,
To hear sleigh bells in the snow…”
As Harry hummed to the song’s refrain, lying lazily in the snow, he half-closed his eyes, leaned back and drank in the scene before him.
Snowballs and the occasional hex whizzed about in the Burrow’s garden. Fleur and Bill Weasley laughed as they exchanged jinxes and snow that splattered against hastily-conjured Shield Charms, while Hedwig soared above the fight, nipping in and attacking one or the other occasionally .
As Fleur shot a volley of snowballs at Bill, the long-haired Curse Breaker cried out as he appeared to trip on something and fall. Seconds later, a gnome hared across the yard, as Bill pelted the creature with a hailstorm of pebbles and icicles, Hedwig in hot pursuit from above. Fleur hugged herself tight and laughed.
“I'm dreaming of a white Christmas,
With every Christmas card I write,
May your days be merry and bright,
And may all your Christmases be white…”
Off to one side, among the bushes that separated the garden and a few hundred acres of forest, Charlie searched anxiously for Ron and Hermione with Stinging Hexes and firecrackers.
“Oi, Harry! Think Ronniekins has got Hermione in a broom closet?”
“I think you’d better check the broom shed at the other end!” called back Harry.
“I’ll Apparate there immediately!”
“Better not go right into the shed, because my left ear is tingling,” said Harry.
“And what does that mean?”
“I'm dreaming of a white Christmas,
With every Christmas card I write,
May your days be merry and bright,
And may all your Christmases be white…”
“That someone is snogging passionately, why of course.” Mrs. Weasley’s kitchen radio switched to a Weird Sisters number — Amortentia Dementia — as the final notes of the Christmas hit faded away.
“I’ll check Stoatshead Hill then, in case Ronnie wanted somewhere more…private.” Chuckling, Charlie Apparated away.
A head poked out of Percy Weasley’s room, red-headed and red-faced, long hair falling past her shoulders. Piercing dark-brown eyes with a flash of irritance in them took in the scene, then the head pulled back in as the louvred windows slammed shut.
The framework glowed red for a short moment, as a myriad of privacy charms and a Silencing Spell struck the window.
Smiling, Harry drew out his wand, and muttered “Expecto patronum!” He had just come to a snap decision that he had been pondering about these past weeks, and this was it. No turning back. This is for life!
A silvery stag slipped out of the wand-tip, looking expectantly at Harry. As he stroked it, the stag nuzzled him and nipped his ear lovingly.
“Go tell Ginny this, ‘I love you when you’re angry and all red in the face.’ Go on.” And he patted his Patronus’s stately neck.
The silvery stag leapt into the air, cantering across nothingness as if there was a bridge between Harry and the window. It gave a mighty bound and passed through the wall.
“Psst! Mate! Is the coast clear?” came a hiss at Harry’s elbow.
“Yeah, they’re gone,” said Harry quietly.
As Ron pulled the Invisibility Cloak off him, a flushed Hermione sat up, patting snow away from her rumpled winter clothes, trying and failing to look dignified and nonchalant.
“You could try moaning a lot less, Hermione,” murmured Harry.
She had the grace to look embarassed. “Shut up, Potter.”
“What a nice way to thank your benefactor for his Invisibility Cloak. I’m quite surprised Ron wasn’t slurping as much as I thought he might,” said Harry, thoroughly enjoying himself. “Though that might be because your tongue was wrapped around his…”
“Harry…” said Ron, gritting his teeth threateningly.
“Okay, okay,” he said, raising his hands up in mock surrender. “I’m going to Diagon Alley, guys. Want anything? Lip balm? Oysters?”
“HARRY!” raged Hermione, while Ron goggled at him.
“Blimey, mate, what can you do with oysters?” he said.
“I heard that oysters are a great aphro…”
“Tarantallegra!” shouted Hermione, brandishing her wand.
Harry began to shake uncontrollably, both from the frenzied speeds that his legs were tap-dancing at and also because he was laughing like a madman. He could barely enunciate the counter-curse properly; indeed, he accidentally did a Fanfare Charm and the resulting blast sounded like an entire herd of elephants blowing away for their lives.
The last thing he saw as he Apparated to Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes was a fuming Hermione and Ron flourishing his own wand.
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“Harry…!”
Red hair and green jackets crowded around him as Harry found himself in the basement of Three-W Diagon Alley, as a certain female newscaster had nicknamed the shop last week, while making hungry eyes at George Weasley. He had become Witch Weekly’s Second Most Eligible Bachelor two months ago, but the Most Eligible prize still belonged to Harry.
“…our kind benefactor…” George shook a hand…
“…absolutely corking…” Fred took up the other…
“…positively delighted…”
“…to see you, mate.” The Weasley entrepreneurs boomed in chorus.
“Yeah, hi guys. I was just passing through, stopped by to see how you lot are doing. Haven’t seen you much around the house, Fred.”
Fred Weasley turned a red enough colour to match his hair. “Oh, er…work…” he said unconvincingly.
“Angelina Johnson,” muttered George under his breath, as he rummaged about in a giant-sized vat or barrel labelled “BREATH EATERS — One Nasty Breath Mint!” and smaller stickers on it that said “Repugnant Rubbish” and “Stinking Socks” and so on. A nasty smell wafted from the barrel. It reminded Harry forcibly of the time Dobby had insisted on serving blue cheese at Hogwarts.
Fred gave George a kick to the seat of his pants that made him stumble off the stepladder he was using and fall into the breath mint barrel.
“I’d like to feed Lupin a barrelful of those,” said Harry, pointing at a smaller crate of “Malodorous Mush”, one of a series that Fred was emptying into the large barrel.
“Yeah. That werewolf needs something to get him away from Tonks,” said Fred. “That stuff oughta stop them snogging for a while. So, what’s Mum cooking for dinner?” asked Fred eagerly. George could be heard struggling chokingly inside the barrel.
“Oh, Mrs. Weasley mentioned she’s getting a couple of pheasants, so she can practice for the turkey and celebrate Mr. Weasley’s promotion at the same time…I assume she meant the birds are for all of us, not just Bill. You heard what he did to the rack of lamb we had the other day?” replied Harry.
“You ought to see what Fred does to Angelina’s rack,” came a muffled voice from within the barrel.
“OI!” yelled Fred. He ran two steps up the ladder, wand in hand, and dove into the barrel head-first. “Merlin, this stuff stinks. I tell you, George, we should sell it four Sickles the ounce. Duel, George? What d’you think, Harry…Densaugeo!”
“Four Sickles it is. If they’re well-received just raise it to five Sickles and tell them your suppliers are running out.”
“But then the Daily Prophet will…Stupefy!” There was a flash of red light.
“…start hunting…” Now a blue bolt of sparks shot out of the barrel.
“…for nonexistent suppliers!” A yellowish flash lit up the room momentarily.
“These Breath Eaters are…” There was the tap-tap-tappity-tap-tap of Fred Weasley under a Tarantallegra spell.
“…home-made like every other…” A silver jet of sparks ricocheted around the room. A few spilled Breath Eaters dropped to the floor.
“…Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes joke item! Enough, old chap!” The twins struggled to the top of the barrel. Fred looked dazed, and George sported dragon’s ears coming out of his head.
“Exactly,” grinned Harry. “Someone once said, ‘All publicity is good publicity.’ Besides, I can still remember those nice articles they wrote about me all through fourth and fifth year. We could give them a red herring to fill in their time.”
“Harry…”
“…you’re a genius…”
“…absolutely spiffing…”
“I got to go, guys,” said Harry, heading out the door. “See ya then!” As he passed by Verity she smiled and waved at him.
The front of the shop was full of little customers and not-so-little men and women who giggled madly, goggling with amazed expressions at the formidable array of tricks, jokes and sweets available in the store.
Harry quickly walked through the scrum at the counter, and only a few kids glanced wistfully at him. He knew what they were thinking — cool, he works at Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes!
As he passed by the Breath Eater barrel, he wondered what the remaining Death Eaters — they had scattered after Voldemort was destroyed — would think of the three-quarters-empty bin of sweets. Two kids were horsing around outside trying out the “Putrid Puke” and “Foul Fart” flavours.
Harry set off towards Gringotts.
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A bell tinkled as Harry stepped into the bank. A goblin rushed up to him, and bowed respectfully.
“Ah, Mr. Potter. Come to inspect your vault, is it?” grimaced the goblin.
Harry smiled at the goblin’s demeanour. He knew the grimace was a goblinish smile. It was the only expression of humour they allowed themselves.
“Yes. I think I’ll require Griphook’s services on this one,” he said. “Er…if you don’t mind.”
“Certainly, sir. Would you care to sit, sir,” and the goblin gestured at a waiting area to Harry’s left.
“No thanks,” said Harry hastily, seeing a huge party of Ministry employees chattering away animatedly on the lounges.
The goblin followed his gaze with a grimace.
Griphook soon arrived out of a side door. Harry saw that a tuft of hair to the back of his head was singed, and the goblin appeared more rattled than usual. There was no sign of the usual grimace the goblin had when seeing Harry. However, his demeanour was that of a traditional English butler, polite as ever, greeting Harry like he was a lord.
“Good afternoon, sir,” said Griphook. “Vault number six eight seven, I presume.”
“Yes,” said Harry. “Lay on, Griphook.”
“With pleasure, sir.”
He didn’t look like he was pleased, mused Harry.
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“Griphook,” said Harry, as they whizzed through the air in a trolley, “is something wrong? I notice that…”
“Ah, it is too bad,” said Griphook, the familiar grimace on his face once more. “It is not good that a goblin bring his feelings to work.”
“I won’t tell anyone,” said Harry quickly.
“The dragons are getting restless,” said Griphook. “Your friend, Charlie Weasley…he has taken leave for five days. The dragons miss him.” And Griphook fondled his singed hair tenderly.
“It’s more than that, isn’t it?” prompted Harry. “What’s the matter?”
“It is…” Griphook paused, then went on. There was a wild light in his goblin eye. “There is this…goblin-girl. Arachnea…she is very…attractive. But another vies for her hand, and Griphook has no idea how he is to win her, for though her heart is with me her father favours the other, who is rich and powerful.”
And Griphook looked so despondent that Harry reached out a hand and patted the goblin’s epaulettes. “It will work out,” said Harry. “It did, for me.”
“And I suppose the visit to six-eight-seven is for the express purpose of…consulting the family jewels?” grimaced Griphook, with a good-natured snarl. He turned to look at Harry but his head snapped back forward as a fork appeared in the track ahead, deftly turning the cart to take the right-hand path.
“Something like that,” chuckled Harry.
“If I may help then, sir,” said Griphook, drawing himself up. “Griphook is best in jewelry among all Gringotts,” he said proudly.
“Oh, yes, thank you,” nodded Harry. “I want the ring to be as special as possible.”
“Would that I could taste the joy of love myself,” sighed Griphook wistfully.
“You will,” said Harry.
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Vault 687.
As they stood before vault six eight seven, Griphook stroked the door tenderly, and it shrank back to reveal Harry’s parents’ vault — now legally his since 31st July.
Griphook handed him a sheet of parchment. “Your account statement, sir,” he said. “Twenty thousand one hundred and thirty-one Galleons, sixteen Sickles and twenty Knuts.”
Harry took the parchment sheet from the goblin. “How did my parents ever amass this much?” he asked.
“An Auror’s pay is much higher than most Ministry employees, save for Unspeakables of course — nobody knows what exactly they do — and your father was a better than average Auror, who received many bonuses for his exemplary work. A trainee Auror’s starting salary is seven hundred Galleons a month, as well as a broomstick — I believe the Comet Two Sixty is standard-issue now.”
“What did my mother do, Griphook? Was she an Auror too?” asked Harry.
“No,” said the goblin, with a grimace. “She was an Unspeakable.” And his tone of voice told Harry he would say no more.
Harry digested this piece of news, and stuffed the parchment sheet into his robes. He stepped into the vault, beckoning Griphook to follow. The goblin did so, after a slight moment’s hesitation.
“What is that?” asked Harry, pointing at a chest on the floor, tucked away at the corner of the room.
“Ah, yes,” said Griphook, and he walked over to the corner. “These are the Potter family heirlooms. I daresay you will find several interesting jewels in here with which to impress your…Weasley companion.”
Harry snorted. Moving to join Griphook in the corner, he watched as the goblin carefully opened the top of the chest.
The entire inside of the chest was covered with velvet. The chest had two tiers. The upper one held a tiara, similar to the one Fleur had worn during her wedding, and several pearl necklaces and bracelets were tucked into side compartments flanking the tiara.
“Look at all this stuff,” said Harry.
Griphook removed the upper layer and revealed an array of rings and earrings. The centerpiece was a wedding ring — undoubtedly his mother’s — sitting side by side with a male wedding band that Harry knew was his father’s.
The wedding ring was feminine, silver, plain, with a single fiery ruby set in the wedding ring, small, petite. It matched James Potter’s ring, which was somewhat wider, gold, with an emerald set in the middle. Slightly thicker too. It was a masculine ring.
“Precious stones carry a meaning, you know,” said Griphook. “Must be chosen carefully, they must.”
“And the ruby means…what…?”
“Ruby,” said Griphook. “It speaks of passionate love. It speaks of a virtous wife. It is the July birthstone. It suits well,” he added, “for your mother was born in July.”
“And this,” said the goblin, holding up James Potter’s wedding band. “The emerald is May’s birthstone, which also fits your father’s birth date. In fact…”
“Where did you get these from?” asked Harry, interrupting Griphook’s spiel.
“Eh?” said Griphook.
It would be the first time — indeed, the last time as well — that anyone had ever seen a gobstruck goblin, for they don’t generally make it their’s business to be astounded, confused, stunned, and the like. Always cool, always prepared are they, the essence of respectful, dignified servitude that typify a traditional British butler…or at least in front of other creatures.
“How did they get here?” asked Harry.
Griphook recovered himself beautifully. “Your giant friend, the one who loves animals…Hagrid, I believe?”
Harry nodded.
“He and the Hogwarts headmaster, Dumbledore, arranged for your parents’ possessions to be moved into Vault Six-Eight-Seven. Gringotts staff went to the house on the morning of 1st November, nineteen eighty-one - once the Dark Lord was confirmed to be vanquished. I was there myself, as a young goblin. We removed the furniture, the utensils, everything, and stored them in Gringotts for safe keeping.”
Griphook fell silent. Harry kept his head averted, hoping the goblin would not notice the tears beading in his eyes.
“But we were at the rings, sir, so which one catches your fancy?” asked Griphook.
“I don’t think these are right, Griphook,” sighed Harry. “I’ll make a withdrawal though, remove about two thousand Galleons for a new ring.”
“Very good, sir. Two thousand Galleons is a wise sum indeed.”
Harry took the coins, and, placing a Weightless Charm on his moneybags, he left the vault.
As Griphook prepared to drive off, Harry turned to look at him. The goblin matched his gaze somewhat unwillingly.
“I sincerely hope you will succeed with Arachnea,” he said.
“And I, in my turn,” said Griphook, with a wide grimace, “am eternally proud to have the honour to be the first to congratulate you on your marriage to she who will soon be known as Mrs. Ginevra Potter.”
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Diagon Alley.
Harry had noticed a jeweller’s along the right side of Diagon Alley. With a quick look around to make sure no red-heads were present, he ducked into Hector Rodimus’s Gold and Pawn Shop, which appeared to have no customers inside.
He failed to notice the witch who sneaked in behind him and concealed herself with a Disillusionment Charm. Instead, Harry stared, awed and slightly lost, at the myriad assortment of jewels and gold bands that glistened in reflected sunlight from every corner of the room.
An elderly wizard with snow-white hair and thick spectacles appeared in the room from a door at the back of the shop. His rheumy eyes travelled northwards from his emerald eyes to the lightning-bolt etched in his forehead.
“Harry…Harry Potter,” wheezed the old wizard.
Harry shifted his feet nervously. “Er…yeah, hi, er…could you…uh…could I see your engagement ring displays?”
Hector Rodimus smiled a knowing smile. Stepping back, a flick of a wand made a case of rings fly from the back of the shop, nearly braining Harry, who ducked down in time — with the aid of his Seeker’s reflexes — to avoid getting hit by the over-eager display box.
“Shall it be a traditional diamond ring, then?” began Mr. Rodimus, “but I don’t quite think diamonds suit you. Far too often they symbolize misery and misfortune. Perhaps a star sapphire set in a band of gold?”
“Not too big, please,” said Harry. “I…er…don’t want it to be too big…sort of a, small design would be nice…”
“Ah yes,” said the goldsmith. “I have just the thing. Two small gold bands, his and hers…the precious jewel will be set in it, not too expensive nor ostentatious, demure, sedate, modest, and you can have any gem you want,” he gestured at the display case.
Harry made up his mind. He knew what gem he wanted, knew what was the right one for him and Ginny. His mind flashed back to the gems he’d seen in the vault, and he knew that he had made the right choice indeed.
“I want two rings, one a male wedding ring, one an engagement ring to double as a wedding ring. Both to be identical,” he said. “Each set with not one, but two precious stones.”
Hector Rodimus stared at the Boy-Who-Lived, now no longer a boy. Slowly, he nodded his head. “Side by side. The union of two in holy matrimony. Yes.”
“One will be an emerald, the other a ruby,” said Harry. “Red and green. I’d like one ring first, then I’ll mail you when I want the other done.” Vivid emerald eyes and fiery ruby mane. It was perfect.
“Very good, sir,” said Mr. Rodimus briskly. “I have the frame and jewels already. I’ll complete the ring tonight and send my bill by owl post tomorrow.”
“It’s been a pleasure,” said Harry, giddy with excitement. He did it! He bought a ring! He was going to marry Ginny!
Steady on, Harry, said a voice inside him. You don’t know she’ll accept.
But of course she will, Harry told himself, rubbing his suddenly sweating palms together, trying to psych himself up for the strain ahead. I’ll ask her out tonight. Bring her out for dinner somewheres, then off we go…yeah. Clean, clear-cut. Very easy, Potter. Simple.
Simple as all hell!
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Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.
This story archived at http://www.siye.co.uk/siye/viewstory.php?sid=12413