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Author: Musings Story: The New Professor Rating: Teens Setting: AU Status: WIP Reviews: 5 Words: 160,238
A/N: For those of you who haven't read my fic-let Happy New Years yet, you might want to take a gander at it – this chapter will make much more sense if you do. Ginny leaned against the back of her door, blowing out a breath which teased a strand of hair that had escaped her braid. "All right, Weasley," she muttered, "why on earth did you tell Harry that Christopher wasn't coming tonight?" Peri, who was curled into a loaf on top of her chest of drawers, opened one gleaming, golden eye and sniffed in what was unmistakably disbelief. He stretched and sat regally atop his perch, blinking at her with a look that could only be described as smug. "Oh, be quiet, you" she said with more heat than she'd intended. She walked over to her familiar and gave him a scratch behind his ears. Her eyes flicked over towards the pile of papers on her desk. She frowned: if she were being reasonable, she would skip the dinner and dance in the Great Hall this evening to catch up on all of the work she'd missed during her absence. If I were being reasonable, she thought to herself as she gazed at the gown hanging next to her wardrobe. But I'm not in the mood for 'reasonable' tonight. Shaking her head, she walked over to her desk and began sorting through the papers. Exams and project papers from her O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. students made up the majority of the materials, and she knew she wouldn't be able to concentrate on them that evening. She separated them into manageable piles (receiving no assistance from Peri, who leapt from clump to clump, attempting to draw her attention from the papers to himself) and sat down to go through her mail. As she untied the ribbon holding the packet of envelopes together, she encountered a note from Christopher. "He must have sent this as soon as he'd received my letter," she said aloud, absentmindedly stroking Peri's head. Running a nail under the wax seal, she read his hastily-penned words: Dear Ginny, Received your letter and am very concerned. Will see you soon. Yours, Chris She slowly folded the letter, placing it in one of the drawers. Rising to her feet, she scooped Peri up into her arms and walked over to the window, stroking the cat's inky-black fur and smiling absently at his deep, rumbling purr. She watched the wind pull some of the last remaining autumn leaves from the trees and could not help but feel the sense of loss the season heralded. The scene with Christopher had been ugly. When she'd written Christopher the letter, she hadn't intended to break things off with him; she'd only wanted to talk with him about where things stood with her and Harry. And even though she might have entertained the notion of marriage to Christopher in the far corners of her mind, he had sealed their fate when he'd thrown himself at her feet. The truth of the matter was that she was thinking about Harry far too much to even consider marriage to someone else. Giving Peri one last squeeze, she set him down onto the windowsill and walked over to her wardrobe. She'd pulled out several dresses for consideration as soon as she'd arrived from the Baleses, but had returned to the emerald green velvet gown time and time again. It was one of the last she'd purchased during her shopping spree, a gown that had fit her like no other, and even Hermione had said, "It's fit for a queen, Gin, and it will be beautiful with your hair." She had suspected both her mother and her best friend might have had the tastes of someone else in mind. As she'd slipped it over her head those suspicions had been confirmed: it was just the sort of dress Harry would have loved—and she'd bought it anyway. So why wear it now? a voice whispered slyly in her ear. She frowned. It was a special occasion gown, so it would be perfect for the ball. Yes. That's right. With a quick nod, she re-hung the dress and tucked it back into the wardrobe for safekeeping – if she left it on the bed she was certain Peri would find it to be the perfect cushion for a nap – and walked into the en suite for a bath. By the time she'd emerged from the steamy bath thirty minutes later, more doubts had begun to creep through her mind. As she'd soaked, she'd thought about the dress and what would have been its perfect accompaniment: the pendant Harry had given her the New Years before the final battle. The neckline of the gown seemed to have been made for it. Truth be told, if Harry hadn't left The Burrow as quickly as he did, he would have gotten it back after our row. Flung at his face, probably. Nibbling her bottom lip, she padded over to her trunk, unlatched the lid and removed a small, black-velvet jewelry box. One of the corners had been damaged when she'd thrown it against the door of her bedroom the night he'd left The Burrow. As she opened the box, the light from the fire struck the emerald stone nestled on the white satin lining, reminding her of the first time she'd seen the pendant. Her throat tightened with emotion: it was too soon to wear this again. He would read too much into it if she showed up in the Great Hall wearing it. Closing the lid, she placed the jewelry box upon the mantelpiece and returned to the en suite to finish dressing. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Christopher shook his head. He felt slightly disoriented and gave his eyes a hard blink as if to clear them before taking in his surroundings. He could have sworn he'd been in a light-filled room a moment earlier, rather than the dark and dank basement where he now found himself. He glanced down at the piece of parchment lying on the table in front of him. Funny, he thought, it looks like my handwriting. Curious, he began to read the letter. As the words penetrated the fog in his brain, reality slapped at him, bringing bile to his throat as he suddenly remembered where he was. Dear Uncle, I'm sorry that I haven't returned to the shop yet. My meeting with Ginny was a disaster and I am afraid she's broken things off with me. I'm not giving up, but would like to take a little time from our shop in Diagon Alley to clear my head a bit. I would still like to proceed with the shop in Hogsmeade as we'd planned prior to my leaving –it might just be the thing to occupy my time. I also think it will show her that I'm serious about my proposal. I've made arrangements for movers to pack up the things from my flat in London, and will focus attention on finalizing the lease arrangements for retail space with a loft in Hogsmeade as soon as possible. Please let me know if you have any questions and I hope that you understand, Uncle. I will be in touch soon. Yours sincerely, Chris He'd been unable to remember much of what had happened the night he'd drunk himself to oblivion at the Leaky Cauldron, waking several hours later with a raging hangover. Or worse, a voice hissed from the dark corners of his mind. He tried to rise from the chair but found himself bound with invisible restraints. Fear began to claw at his insides as he noticed two figures appearing from the shadows. "Is your memory coming back, Mr. Ollivander?" the blond man asked him, his voice silky, a sneer creasing what would have been a handsome face. "Where am I?" Christopher said, surprised at the rusty sound coming from his throat. He tugged at his arms again and was distressed to notice he was wearing next to nothing. "A little room my father used to call ‘The Pit'," the man said, leaning on a silver-headed walking stick. "Draco Malfoy is the name." He pointed to the other man standing next to him. "You remember my associate? You met him at the Leaky Cauldron several nights ago – Marcus Flint." As Flint gave him a mock salute, memory – razor-sharp and mean – flooded his brain: Flint toasting him at the pub…Flint slinging an arm around his shoulder and leading him out the door…a shock of white light…Cruciatus, over and over again…his hand scribbling on parchment… He vomited. "Oh, for pity's sake, man," Flint said, sidestepping to avoid being splattered by the mess. Christopher raised his head only to feel it snap to the side from the force of the blow he received. "Thank you for writing the letter, Ollivander," Malfoy said, walking around the puddle of sick and leaning close to Christopher's left ear. "You must know by now that we've had you under several curses, the Imperius Curse being the most recent. It comes in handy from time to time. Of course, it helps to add an incentive," he added, placing a framed photograph of Ginny next to the letter and running a well-manicured finger along the top of the frame, tracing her cheek with a caress. Christopher felt tears of anger burning in his eyes as he strained against the restraints. "Now, don't hurt yourself," Malfoy said, picking the letter up off of the desk and turning towards the door. "We have much work to accomplish over the next month." "Never," Christopher shouted, tears choking him. "I believe Ollivander requires additional…persuasion," Malfoy drawled as he opened the door. "I'll leave you to it, Mr. Flint." The door clicked shut as Christopher watch Flint approach, madness gleaming in his eyes. The blow came with lightening swiftness. His head filled with stars in a black sky, and Christopher knew no more. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ During the first days of the fall term following the final battle nine years before, the Hogwarts staff had decided they wanted to have a way of honoring Dumbledore for his courage and sacrifice to the school in particular and the wizarding world as a whole. McGonagall had mentioned Dumbledore's birthday – October 31st – as well as his penchant for sweets, and a tradition had been born – the Hogwarts Halloween Dinner Dance. Students and alumni were welcome to attend, either as couples or singly, to enjoy wonderful food, drink, music and dance. Harry smiled, watching the students streaming into the Great Hall. Many of them came, arms linked two by two, but he was pleased to see several clusters of five or six students clearly attending the event as a group. Everyone, dateless or no, was dressed to the nines, Harry included. On the rare occasion he'd found need for formal attire during his time at Oxford, Harry had grown accustomed to the tuxedo. As he'd dressed for the evening, he'd decided the jacket would have been too bulky (and somewhat redundant) under the formal set of robes he'd had made at Madam Malkins this summer. Fortunately, the raven-black fabric and black satin trim he'd chosen matched his tuxedo trousers perfectly, setting off the crispness of the tuxedo's white tie, shirt and waistcoat. He'd secured a Gryffindor house pin to his lapel, the polish on the red and gold bits gleaming in the candlelight. Finally, he'd ensnared the unruly mass of his hair ruthlessly back into a ponytail, capturing it in an elastic covered by a white velvet ribbon, and had dared it to move. So far, he seemed to be winning the battle. Earlier, he'd had the pleasure of seeing several of his former classmates, many for the first time since leaving Hogwarts. Seamus and Lavender Finnegan were the proud owners of an upscale brewery and pub specializing in artisan butterbeer just outside of Hogsmeade. Neville and Luna Longbottom and their five-year-old twin girls, Janie and Sasha, lived in Edinburgh and owned a Herbology shop. Finally, the Creevey brothers, who'd opened a wizard photography shop in Diagon Alley, had clambered up to him just as they'd done when they were schoolmates. They were the official photographers for the school and were now snapping candid photos as the attendees sampled appetizers from gleaming silver trays seemingly propelled by non-existent wind. Munching on a crab puff he'd taken from the tray weaving past him, he reached into the watch pocket of his waistcoat and removed his watch to check the time. It was almost 7 o'clock and Ginny had yet to arrive. He pressed the winding mechanism, watching as the Weasley family clock appeared. He watched as a hand reading "Arthur" swung from "work" to "home". He wished Ginny's hand would tell him where she was, but both it and his own (as well as hands belonging to Phillip and Patrick) sat quietly on the word "Hogwarts". The year Harry'd received the watch from Ginny, the rest of the Weasley family had presented him with a gift that he'd considered one of his most treasured of all time: his own hand for the Weasley family clock. As Mr. Weasley had placed it onto the clock face, Harry had watched as it spun around several times before falling still on the word "Home." At that moment, the watch had shivered in his pocket. Startled, he had removed the watch and pressed down on the winding mechanism, only to find that a tiny hand reading "Harry" had joined the others. Amazed, he'd raised tear-filled eyes to Ginny and her father. "Your watch is a miniature Weasley clock, Harry," Mr. Weasley had said. "With every birth, every death, every marriage, whenever a hand is added or stilled forever on this clock, yours will be affected as well." Six months later, when Harry had fled The Burrow, he'd silenced the Weasley clock mechanism on the pocket watch. Over the years while he'd studied at Oxford, he'd used the watch as a simple timepiece only, refusing to activate the Weasley clock because it was just one more reminder of what he'd been missing. However, each time he would remove the watch from his pocket he remembered sitting in front of a fire with the only woman he'd ever loved, and lost. And while the memories had been painful, he'd worn it every day. It wasn't until he'd returned to his flat in London to pack up his belongings after watching Ginny storm away from him at the Obelisk of Remembrance that he'd re-activated the Weasley clock on the watch. He'd stared, transfixed, as the hands slowly spun around its face, registering where each of the Weasley's had been and showing the additions which had been made during his absence. Just as his own hand had begun to creak back to life he'd snapped the lid shut and Apparated back to Hogsmeade. Shaking his head to clear the memories, he pressed the mechanism to check the time again. He was snapping the watch shut when he froze, a shiver racing down his spine. He turned, saw Ginny walking into the Great Hall, and promptly forgot how to breathe. She'd tended to avoid wearing hats, a rarity amidst the female teaching staff at Hogwarts, and it was a habit for which Harry had been glad – he'd always loved her hair. He now wished that there was something to shield it from him that night, anything that might help him regain his composure. She'd worn it up, fine braids crisscrossing to create an intricately woven nest for the rest of her hair to rest in. It looked stunning and precarious, as if the removal of one pin would send it cascading down her back, and the thought of being the one to remove that pin made Harry groan aloud, his fingers itching to touch it. The mass of her hair made her already-long neck appear even longer, melting into graceful shoulders, their caps exposed in stark contrast to the emerald green velvet which caressed her arms all the way to their pointed cuffs. The empire waist of the gown, highlighted by a black velvet ribbon, fit snugly under her breasts, and the hint of cleavage caused Harry to look away sharply, his body reacting painfully as she approached. When he hazarded another glance he noticed two things: that he wished she'd worn the pendant he'd given her for Christmas all those years ago, and that she was staring at him as intently as he'd been staring at her. Her eyes shifted to his hands, and he realized that she'd noticed the pocket watch. Stealing one last deep breath, he smiled and started down the steps from the staff tables to meet her. "Ginny," he said, his voice sounding deep and unfamiliar in his own ears, "you look breathtaking." He extended a hand to assist her up the steps of the dais. "Thank you, Harry," she said, her eyes flicking over his face as she climbed the steps. "I almost didn't recognize you when I first came into the hall." Her lips curved into a smile that came close to stopping his heart. "You look incredible!" As she reached the top of the steps, Harry was certain he was glowing redder than any Weasley ever could have glowed in his or her lifetime. "You still have the watch," she said, holding out one of her hands. Harry numbly slid the watch into her palm and watched as she turned it over in her hands. Her thumb rubbed across the peacock on the front of the watch and Harry was once again thankful for the flowing robes which were a part of wizarding attire. "I wondered whether or not you'd kept it after…" she said, her eyes rising to meet his. "After you'd left." "I promised I would that New Year's Eve at your house, Gin," he said, quietly. The memory of their moments together that night flooded him and he had to stop himself from leaning in to kiss her. Now it was her turn to blush. He watched as she raised her hand to her throat to finger her clavicle. "I –" she stammered, only to be silenced by a deep-sounding gong from somewhere near the ceiling. "Ladies and gentlemen," Professor McGonagall said, rising to her feet, resplendent in her clan tartan, "dinner is served." Holding his arm out, Harry leaned close. "Shall I escort you to your seat, Professor Weasley?" "Yes, you may, Professor Potter," Ginny said, tucking her hand in the crook of his arm. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Minerva's toe was tapping in rhythm to the music as she watched the students and guests dancing. Dinner had been another spectacular affair of standing rib roast, Yorkshire pudding, and all of the trimmings. The hall sparkled with the light from what seemed to be a thousand jack-o-lanterns floating high above the floor. As she watched the couples swirling in circles across the parquet dance floor that had been magicked in as the tables were cleared, her eye caught the twitch of a feline tail. She chuckled – Ginny Weasley's cat, Periwinkle, was racing in circles around Mrs. Norris in a wasted attempt to charm her. "Must have been the catnip I slipped him at dinner," Snape muttered, leaning heavily on his cane. "Why Severus, you old softy," Minerva said, nudging him in his side with her elbow. Snape sniffed. "It appears that Potter and Weasley are taking their turns as chaperones," he said, arching a brow in their direction. Minerva turned to see the couple discreetly separating students who seemed to believe slow dancing gave them permission to surreptitiously grope one another. "Well, it's clear their technique is better than yours, Severus," Minerva said with a snort. "I seem to recall that the night of the Christmas Ball the year of the Triwizard Tournament, your technique involved blasting at the students in the rose bushes, correct?" "Well, since I was supposed to be ‘in league with the Dark Lord' I couldn't very well have pleaded with them to stop, now could I?" Minerva patted his arm. "I'll see if I can round up some students for you to blast before the night is over, Severus." "It's what I live for," Snape drawled, a smirk rising on his face. He paused suddenly and peered out over the couples, drawing Minerva's attention. She blinked: Harry Potter was staring at Ginny Weasley with enough fire to light the Great Hall ablaze for months. "Well," Snape said loudly, turning to glance at Minerva. "I believe that's one Galleon you owe me." "Severus, not here," she hissed, tugging him closer so that she could be heard over the music, "and it was one Galleon when they reconciled, not when they'd noticed one another!" If it had been anyone other than Snape she would have sworn she had heard a laugh. "Besides, it wouldn't be the first time a couple of teachers became ‘involved' during their tenure at Hogwarts. You remember Hagrid's predecessor and Poppy had a bit of a fling in days gone by." "Thankfully, that was before my time, Minerva," Snape said with a shudder. "In any event, if anything does happen, I would expect the two of them to act like the adults they are and to be discreet. You are correct," she said, with a nod, "it can't disrupt the school." They watched the dancing in silence for several moments until Remus and Poppy started over to Harry and Ginny. "Must be their turn to play chaperone," Snape said, "although I'm almost certain I saw a smile cross the werewolf's face." Minerva turned to see Poppy and Remus wink at her as Harry and Ginny headed towards the dance floor. "Oh, dear." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The moment Harry guided Ginny out onto the dance floor, she'd felt as if all eyes were upon them. Now, she was positive they were. Anyone looking at them would have seen a very handsome couple executing a perfect waltz, but for Ginny it was torturous. Harry was a splendid dancer, and she burned with jealousy wondering who had been the lucky woman to teach him how to dance like this. He held her very respectfully, yet all she could think about were the changes she'd noticed about him: his hands were wider than they had been when they were a couple, his shoulders a bit more broad. But it was the massive improvement in his dancing that held her attention. She remembered their first dance as a couple. It had taken place at the Easter Ball her fifth year at Hogwarts. They'd both been nervous as cats when they'd first walked onto the dance floor, only to discover that they'd both been taking secret lessons in preparation, Ginny with Dean Thomas (which had been cause for concern the next day) and Harry with Hermione. Regardless of the lessons, her toes had been mashed several times, much to Harry's mortification. He'd apologized by massaging her feet in the common room as soon as the dance was over. They'd wound up snogging on the hearthrug within fifteen minutes. For a split second, Ginny wondered if she should try to step on his toes. His voice interrupted her musings. "Are you having a nice time tonight, Gin?" he asked softly, leaning close enough for her to catch a slight whiff of his cologne: sandalwood. At least that hadn't changed. "Very much, thanks," she said, glancing up into his eyes, clear and green behind the lenses of his virtually-invisible glasses. "You're a wonderful dancer, Harry." She paused, wishing she could tie her tongue up into knots. "Thank you," he said, steering her away from Neville and Luna as they charged past. "During my years of graduate school, a group of classmates and I would attend the formal functions and tear up a carpet or two." He smiled down into her eyes. "It was one of the reasons I was glad to hear that the students aren't required to find dates for this dinner – we would all dance with one another, no pressure. I started to learn how to enjoy dancing so that it wasn't so much of a…a…" he paused, searching for a word. "A test?" Ginny offered. "Exactly," he said with a nod, his voice quieter than before. It caused Ginny to close the gap between them until she realized he was holding her very closely. Her eyes darted to his and she realized they'd grown a shade darker than they had been before. "I will say this – I'm grateful for all of those social functions if it means I can hold you like this and not worry about mashing your toes into oblivion." He brushed his left thumb across her right index finger and brought their clasped hands down to rest against his chest. Ginny's breathing became shallow. She was certain that the famous Weasley blush was creeping up her neck to her face. She watched as his eyes grew even darker and felt the hand resting on her hip tighten ever so slightly. She broke eye contact with him, moving back slightly until they'd resumed the classic stance of a waltzing couple. Shaken, she finished their dance in silence, knowing that something had changed for both of them. A/N: My heartfelt thanks to all of you who have read and reviewed TNP so far – when I first started this project, I figured it would only have fifteen chapters. Little did I know that I would get to this point and we'd only be two months into the fall term! Anyway, the fifteen-chapter goal is dead and buried so I'll not speculate on how many I'll need to finish telling this tale. Just stick with me - things are about to heat up! Also, I cannot express my gratitude enough to Aibhinn and Ahmie for reading (and re-reading…and re-re-reading) this chapter. Betaing for me is often a long, drawn-out process of version 1s, version 2s and version 3s, so their patience and insistence on getting the job done right is priceless. Thank you both very, very much. Coming Soon: Chapter 14 - Gryffindor vs. Ravenclaw
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