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Mistlefinger | ||||||
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Category: Post-HBP, December Engagement Challenge (2006-6) Characters:Harry/Ginny, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley Genres: Comedy, Drama, Fluff, Romance Warnings: None Story is Complete Rating: PG Reviews: 28 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. Hitcount: Story Total: 17602; Chapter Total: 4047 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. =] |
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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. =] |
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