In the time it took Hermione to regain her composure, the crowd adjusted itself to permit those guests who had not yet presented their gifts easy access to the newlyweds. After receiving a reassuring glance from Ginny, Ron took a single step forward. But, abruptly, Oliver Wood elbowed past him, a condescending grin just visible over the athlete's square shoulder.
"Sorry, Ron. Got to be popping off shortly. The team only gave me a half-day off. Reckon they can't risk starting the match without their number one back-up, eh?"
Ron grumbled something unrepeatable under his breath, adjusting his robes with an annoyed jerk as Oliver stood before Harry and Hermione with the air of a Prince Regent granting an audience. Oliver essayed an elaborate bow that Dobby would have approved, and when Hermione extended her hand graciously, he bent his head and kissed it. This seemed to amuse Harry, who laughed as he shook Oliver's hand. Ron, however, merely grimaced.
"I have to say, you two," Oliver said as he threw his shoulders back (eliciting sighs from Parvati, Padma and Lavender -- and an amused titter from Ginny), "I never saw it coming. Granted, I left school after your third year, and things didn't start heating up until Fifth Year, I'm told. Still, I should have seen it from the first. The two of you are as perfect a match as I ever hope to see."
Harry and Hermione thanked Oliver modestly. Ron muttered something in which Ginny, standing beside him, thought to make out the words, "Smarmy git." She politely hid a grin behind an upraised hand.
"Well, now," Oliver said, looking a bit less decisive than he had a moment ago, "I really wasn't sure what kind of gift would do. In the end, it was Ludo Bagman who bailed me out. Seems he'd had something on his mind for a while, and he came to me during a match to ask my opinion. He knew we were Quidditch teammates at Hogwarts, and he said he'd act on my recommendation."
Swelling once more with self-importance, Oliver plunged a hand into his robes and produced an envelope bearing the seals of both the Ministry of Magic and the Department of Magical Games and Sports. He handed the envelope to Harry without a word. His curiosity clearly aroused, Harry opened the crackling parchment and reached inside. His hand emerged with a rectangular plate of a size roughly twice that of his new Gringotts credit card. It gleamed in the sun with the unmistakable lustre of fine gold. It was graven with letters that were etched beneath the same seals which adorned the envelope. Harry tilted the writing so he could read it, and a moment later he nearly dropped the plaque as if it were suddenly burning hot.
Grinning broadly with utmost satisfaction, Oliver announced for all to hear, "That, Harry, is the first and only Lifetime Quidditch Pass ever issued by the Ministry and the Department of Magical Games and Sports!"
Harry suddenly began to comprehend the pure excitement Hermione had felt upon seeing the tickets to their honeymoon cruise. Had his wife not been leaning against him, her hand resting on his shoulder as she shared his boyish exuberance in her typically selfless way, Harry was sure he would have floated straight up into the sky without benefit of a Levitating Charm.
"So," Harry said, controlling his bubbling emotions by taking short, deep breaths, "I just present this at the gate like an ordinary ticket?"
"Precisely," came an answering voice seemingly out of thin air. Harry and Hermione both jumped as Oliver gave a short laugh. For the voice had come from the gold Pass itself, upon the surface of which a face had now appeared. It was essentially a genderless face, but the voice reminded Harry of the Fat Lady in the portrait guarding the entrance to the Gryffindor common room.
Recovering her wits before Harry, Hermione asked the Pass, "Am I allowed, too? I like a good Quidditch game from time to time."
"Oh, yes!" the Pass said cheerfully. "I have been enchanted to recognize any four persons designated by Harry Potter."
This statement seemed to please Harry quite as much as Hermione as they hugged each other before joining forces to return the Pass to its envelope, which Hermione held open before her.
"Don't you have something softer to put me in?" the Pass said with a trace of impatience. "That parchment is quite scratchy, you know. My finish will suffer dreadfully. But don't leave me out in the open! Dust makes me sneeze!"
"I know just the thing," Hermione said, drawing her wand. She tapped the envelope once, and its crackling surface at once became soft and pliable. "Will lambskin do?"
"Splendidly," the Pass declared, sighing comfortably as Harry slipped the golden slab inside its newly Transfigured sheath. As Hermione closed the flap, she looked up to see Professor McGonagall giving her an approving nod. She returned the gesture with a smile before handing Harry the pouch, which he very carefully placed atop their growing pile of presents.
"You did notice," Harry said in an undertone, "that the packages are all gone -- the ones Flitwick hid from us with his Concealment Charm. All the remaining gifts must be small, like Bill's and Oliver's."
"Or like Percy's," Hermione said. "Either too big or too inconvenient to be carried here."
"Blimey," Harry said with a trace of worry in his voice, "I hope we don't get anything bigger than Percy's telly. I still don't know how we're going to fit that into our flat."
"We'll worry about that after we get back from our honeymoon," Hermione said. She squeezed his arm reassuringly, which action erased every particle of worry from Harry's mind.
Following a hasty goodbye punctuated by more congratulations and good wishes, Oliver Disapparated with a soft 'pop.' Ron was so pleased to see Oliver go that he stood rooted to the spot, an expression on his face hinting at thoughts best left unspoken. Seeing her brother thus occupied, Ginny walked right by him, smiling and shaking her head, and took her place before Harry and Hermione. A moment later Ron blinked, laughed at himself good-naturedly, and focused his attention on his sister and his two best friends.
Ginny was holding a small, flat box in her hands, heretofore secluded within the folds of her long, flowing dress robes.
"It took me a long time to come up with just the right gift," Ginny said. "I almost didn't. But then, it was like something just clicked inside me. And, well...here..."
Ginny handed the box to Hermione, who paused to admire the pearl gray wrapping paper across the surface of which a dusting of silver specks moved like clusters of stars against a dusky sky. Removing the paper and handing it to Harry, Hermione lifted the lid of the box and stifled a gasp. She removed two small, leather-bound books, each embossed with a letter H in ornate gold script.
"Diaries?" Hermione exclaimed delightedly as she flipped through the blank pages slowly. "They're exquisite, Ginny!"
As Harry smiled at Ginny over Hermione's shoulder, he thought to see a faintly haunted look pass like a moon shadow across the girl's soft brown eyes. Harry understood that look all too well. Given the unspeakable fate Ginny had nearly suffered in her first year at Hogwarts, her choice of gift was at once poignant and defiant. Their eyes embraced across the short distance separating them, reflecting an understanding -- and a bond -- that was beyond words.
"Try them out," Ginny said with an enigmatic smile. "You first, Harry."
Hermione handed Harry one of the books, which were identical to the last detail.
"Write something to Hermione," Ginny instructed. "Something for her eyes only."
As if responding to an unseen signal, Lavender appeared, a bottle of ink and a quill in her hands. Ginny opened the ink and held it so that Harry could dip the tip of the quill with his right hand, the diary held in his left. He thought for a moment, then wrote something on the first page in a few short strokes. He drew a breath to blow on the ink to dry it, but he checked himself. The ink had evidently been enchanted to dry instantly upon contact. Such ink was probably standard issue for reporters, Harry reasoned. He made a motion to hand his book to Hermione for her to read, but Ginny stopped him with an upraised hand and a shake of her head.
"Close the book, Harry," she said, "and touch it with your wand."
Harry complied, his eyes reflecting a mixture of amusement and curiosity.
"Now, both of you, open your books," Ginny said softly.
Hermione let out a squeal that seemed not far removed from a sob. On the first page of her diary -- in Harry's distinctive script which she knew so well -- were three words: "I love you."
Hermione showed the page to Harry, who immediately opened his own book. The page upon which he had written his declaration was completely blank, with no sign that ink or anything else had ever touched the cream-colored surface.
"I know you're both going to have careers that will separate you from time to time," Ginny said gently. "If Harry takes that job he's thinking about, as Ambassador-at-Large with the Department of International Magical Cooperation, he may be gone for weeks at a time. Dad told me that embassies typically have anti-Apparation Charms on them, like Hogwarts. But now, neither of you will have to wait for an owl to deliver a letter from the other side of the world.
"No one," she said with a slight choke in her voice, "should have to wait...to hear...the most important words...in the world..."
Molly was suddenly at her daughter's side, and Ginny whirled and buried her face in her mother's robes. Absolute silence reigned until Ginny turned at last, her eyes moist and nearly as red as her hair.
"Sorry," she said weakly. "I just...I love you both so much -- "
Hermione fell upon Ginny, her arms encircling her surrogate sister's neck, the diary in her hand tucked just under Ginny's left ear. Neither saw Harry bend and retrieve the bottle of ink fallen from Ginny's hand (its stopper still in place), nor saw him open his own diary again and set quill to paper. He waited patiently until Hermione and Ginny parted before catching his wife's eye and pointing first to his book, now closed once more, then to hers. Catching on, Hermione closed her diary and opened it again. Smiling across its pages at her husband, Hermione held the book out to Ginny, who read:
"Thanks, Ginny. We love you, too."
Unable to hold back her tears, Ginny allowed her mother to lead her away as Ron walked forward slowly. He slipped an arm around Hermione and gave her a gentle squeeze.
"She'll be okay," he said, the timbre of his voice seeming to include himself in that promise. "You know how women are -- being one yourself," he added with his trademark crooked grin. Hermione reciprocated Ron's one-armed hug, punctuating it with a pinch to his backside which gave notice that his careless pretense was fooling no one, least of all her. Laughing, Ron eased Hermione back into her chair before straightening to his full (not inconsiderable) height.
"Harry," he said stiffly. "Hermione."
A few guests chuckled at Ron's patent (and none too flattering) imitation of Percy. The only one who seemed oblivious to this obvious parody was Percy himself, who stood tall and stiff as the newlyweds' grandfather clock as he smiled approvingly at Ron's mock decorum.
"A lot of presents have been handed out today," Ron said, the thin, austere line of his mouth contrasting with the capricious gleam lurking in the shadows of his china-blue eyes. "Some were given with both of you in mind. Others were specific to Hermione -- and still others seemed to be aimed at Harry, but somehow managed to veer off-target."
Ron turned smoothly to cast a penetrating glance at Bill, who smiled and shook his fist once in agreement with Ron's assertion. Ron acknowledged his oldest brother with a slow, regal dip of his head before turning back to Harry and Hermione.
"Therefore," Ron said with a ceremonial sweep of his arm, "it's time to set matters to rights." He snapped his fingers, and a small envelope appeared in his hand. The three professors all smiled approvingly, as did Molly Weasley (though Ron, looking the other way, did not see this). Ron handed the envelope to Harry crisply and stood back with an air of propriety, his face a mask of concerted effort as he virtually nailed his lips shut by force of will to prevent himself from grinning from ear to ear.
Wearing his own smile openly, Harry reached into the small envelope and extracted an even smaller object. He turned it about until it was facing him properly, and his eyes and mouth flew open together. Her own excitement making her shiver with anticipation, Hermione leaned in until she could see the object in Harry's hand.
"It's a Chocolate Frog card!" she exclamied with nothing less than pure delight. "With Harry's picture on it!"
Had Harry's grin not finally ceased growing, it would have met at the back of his neck and sliced the top of his head off like a melon. In that event, Hermione was sure that the 11-year-old boy whom she had met on the Hogwarts Express exactly seven years ago today would have leaped out, cartoon-fashion, complete with taped glasses and his hair sticking out at all angles. Not that the latter condition was all that improved today, she laughed to herself.
"This is bloody marvelous, Ron!" Harry fairly twittered with unrestrained glee. "I love it! I'll have it framed and place it right on the mantel -- quick as I get a mantel, of course," he laughed. "Where'd you have it printed? Zonkos? Diagon Alley?"
Preening almost obscenely now, Ron said with an unmistakable note of triumph, "Oh, it's not a joke, mate. That's a real Chocolate Frog card. Strictly speaking, it's the prototype, the one from which the master plate was engraved. So take care of it. That's a one-of-a-kind collector's item, that is."
Harry's childish delight was now replaced by full-blown astonishment.
"It's -- it's real? But -- it can't be! I mean -- how?"
"A lot easier than you'd think, actually," Ron said, clearly enjoying Harry's befuddlement. "I just owled the manufacturers and told them they'd double, even triple their sales if they added a card featuring the wizard who defeated You-Know-Who."
"But I didn't!" Harry protested yet again, rapidly tiring of the mantra. "I was just part of the Order of the Phoenix. We all did our part."
"Sorry, mate," Ron said cheerfully. "That's not the way the world works. Think about it. All those Quidditch games Gryffindor won, who did everyone cheer when it was all over? The Chasers, who scored a dozen or more goals apiece?" He turned and winked at Ginny, who stood smiling beside their mother. "Or the Keeper, who blocked a hundred shots-on-goal to preserve the margin of victory?" Ron tossed his head back in a leonine manner as the Gryffindor boys all laughed. "They cheered the Seeker, didn't they? The bloke who took the victory lap with the Golden Snitch clenched in his hand. People are funny that way. I reckon too many heroes sort of take the shine off the trophy, so to speak. So get used to it. And get used to cashing in on it as well!
"Which reminds me, don't forget to sign the contract before you leave on the fourth. Got it up in my room, waiting for you. You don't get paid until you sign -- and from the gleam I saw in Hermione's eye when she nicked your credit card -- " he grinned at Hermione, who laughed musically, " -- I have a feeling you're going to need every Galleon you can get between now and October first."
"Paid?" Harry said in utter confusion.
"Of course, 'paid,' Harry," Dumbledore put in, his eyes twinkling as the corners of his moustaches twitched upwards. "You don't imagine I would let them use that horrid picture of me without ample compensation, do you?"
"Got you a positively ripping package, too," Ron went on. "Flat fee, paid quarterly -- oh, and a signing bonus, of course -- bigger than the one Wood got from Puddlemere United, if anyone asks."
Ron laughed delightedly at this last, though the sound had a hollow ring to it, reflecting something less than the total satisfaction that would have resulted had Wood remained long enough to hear the news first-hand. As it was, Ron had to content himself with imagining the look on Wood's face when the news finally reached him. Ron promised himself that, when the story came out in the Daily Prophet, he would send Wood a dozen copies by special post-owl. He might even ask Lavender to arrange for Colin Creevey (who had spent his holiday as an apprentice photographer for Witch Weekly) to show up to record Wood's reaction for posterity. The thought filled in some of the hollowness as he laughed again.
"Blimey!" Ron said suddenly, slapping himself dramatically for comedic effect, "I almost forgot about the royalties! Two Knuts on every pack sold over 120% of pre-Harry sales. It may not sound like much, but on a million packs, two million -- it adds up, mate!"
"All that?" Harry said, looking as if he had been hit a glancing blow by a Bludger. "For me?"
"Well, less my percentage," Ron said with a mild shrug.
"Percentage?" Harry said, seeming to come out of his stupor.
"Er, yeah," Ron said with a solicitous smile. "The usual ten percent. You know, standard agent's fee -- "
"Are you mental?" Harry said loudly, his eyes flashing like green flames. "You expect me to pay you ten percent of my earnings?"
Ron's face purpled.
"Well -- I -- I mean -- I thought -- "
"Think again, mate!" Harry snapped. "Ten percent, my Aunt Petunia's bum! You'll take fifteen, and not a Sickle less!"
Harry turned to Hermione, his face suddenly as placid as the surface of the lake at Hogwarts. "That sound fair, love? Fifteen percent?"
"Mmmmm," Hermione said thoughtfuly, her finger tapping her cheek lightly. "I don't know. I was thinking twenty might be more appropriate."
Harry screwed up his face with an exaggerated studiousness, a narrowed eye swiveling toward Ron. "Twenty, huh? You reckon he's worth it?"
"Yes," Hermione said slowly. "I think so."
Harry gave a single, sharp nod and kissed his wife on the cheek.
"Oi, Percy!" Harry barked. "Can you draw us up a contract? I want to sign this git before he holds me up for twenty-five!"
"Have it for you tomorrow, Harry," Percy affirmed as he regarded his youngest brother with a smile of approval, something Ron had never seen before, nor ever thought to see.
"Right," Harry said. "Shake on it?"
Ron was too stunned to move. Leaping forward, Percy had to grab his brother's arm and thrust it forward so Harry could shake his hand.
"You're a witness, Percy," Harry said with a wink. "A handshake is a binding interim contract. Twenty percent. Not a Knut more."
Percy grinned. Ron was still speechless.
"Hey, Harry," Dean called out. "Maybe you can get some endorsements, like Muggle celebrities do. You know, the brand of butterbeer you drink, the broom you ride, the robes you wear."
"What do you say, Ron?" Harry said, his friend's hand still lifeless in his. "Have a bash?"
Ron seemed to come to life at last. "Uh...yeah." Then, more resolutely: "Absolutely!" He gripped Harry's hand firmly now. "We'll turn the wizarding world on its ear!"
Percy was now clapping Ron on the back. His head bobbing above the crowd, Bill called out, "Hey, Ron, you'll be wanting to set up a Gringotts account. I can get you a good rate. And come see me about a credit card straightaway."
As the entire Weasley family came forward to congratulate Ron, Hermione pulled Harry close and pressed her mouth to his ear.
"I suppose you think you were very clever, the way you turned the spotlight on Ron like that."
"One of my better inspirations, now that you mention it," Harry said immodestly in his own dead-on lampoon of Percy.
"Every time I turn around," Hermione said as Harry turned his face toward hers, "I discover something new to love about you."
"In that case," Harry grinned suggestively, "fancy a quick snog while everyone is fussing over Ron?"
In a sudden sweeping motion, Harry swung Hermione off her chair and across his lap. With a squeal of laughter and remonstrance, Hermione jerked Harry's glasses off and tossed them aside. But just as they had before, they merely spun around in mid-air and flew unerringly back onto his face as if placed there by an invisible hand.
"Bugger that Boomerang Charm!" Hermione pouted. "I'm going to get that counter-Charm from Molly before we leave today!"
Harry laughed as he returned his wife to her chair. As he adjusted his glasses while Hermione tugged her robes straight, a shadow fell across the two of them, as if something had suddenly blocked out the afternoon sun. Harry blinked, disbelief spreading across his face.
Author's Note: Only one more round of presents (and two chapters overall) remaining. With any luck, the last chapter will be up just after Christmas.
To KypDurron: The Weasleys gave Harry and Hermione A clock, not THEIR clock (the same as Dumbledore did with the Pensieve). They may not have too many Galleons to spend, but it's not yet reached the stage where they're pawning (or giving away) the furniture! ^_^
But what sort of presents remain that are so grand that they've been saved for the very end? You have a week (more or less) to guess. The winner gets his or her own Gringotts credit card (to be picked up in Diagon Alley at winner's expense). But be sure your vault isn't empty when payments come due. You don't want to see an angry goblin. Ask Ludo Bagman.
Thanks for reading.