The Unknown Waltz

romulus lupin

Rating: G
Genres: Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 4
Published: 11/01/2003
Last Updated: 11/01/2003
Status: completed

"Learning is finding out about the things we already know." At the Victory Ball to celebrate Voldemort's defeat, Harry learns something important to him -- and Hermione.

Chapters

1. untitled

1. untitled

The Unknown Waltz

Silence rules.

Hogwarts Castle was quiet – a silence imposed over much of its corridors by the curfew still enforced on the student population of the school. As such, the majority were already ensconced in their beds, or in their Common Rooms, studying, playing Exploding Snap or Wizard’s Chess, planning strategies for the upcoming Quidditch matches … or simply -- resting.

The silence of the corridors was broken, however, by the sound of footsteps as Minister of Magic Dame Amanda Rivers walked towards her overnight accommodations in the castle. Head Girl Ashley and her counterpart, Brian, were escorting her, both of them engrossed in their thoughts … doubtless, going over the matters discussed in their after-dinner meeting with newly-appointed Headmaster Shirley Patterson (who had replaced the recently retired Minerva McGonagall) … and both hoping for a restful sleep in their warm beds within a few minutes.

Sleep, however, was the last thing on Dame Rivers’ mind that night. She hadn’t walked the once-familiar hallways of Hogwarts Castle in years … but she found herself constantly assailed by memories, both sweet and sad, as she passed recognizable landmarks and ghosts, took a look at the office and classrooms she once occupied when she was teaching Medicinal Magic so many years before – and smiled at the various groups of students who passed by.

‘Everything I knew I learned in kindergarten,’ she thought to herself, remembering the title of a Muggle book that her husband had given her years before. ‘Except that the most important lesson I learned came from here … and to think, I was already teaching when I learned it …’

And she smiled to herself, a secret, knowing smile … ‘Learning’, she quoted from another Muggle book her husband bought for her, ‘is finding out about the things you already know.’ She didn’t know that she had the lesson already within her … it just took a set of very special circumstances to bring it out, and the lesson she had imparted was as much a learning for her as it was for that other person.

She glanced at her companions … ‘I wonder if they’ve already learned that lesson,’ she thought, and her inner smile broadened (to the point that her face was actually glowing from her mirth) as she thought of her husband of many years. ‘If it weren’t for that lesson,’ she thought, ‘Lordy, Lordy! What mistakes I would have made! If it weren’t for them …’

She’d been so engrossed in her thoughts (and her inner smile) that she’d actually walked a few paces past her companions – both of whom had stopped when they heard a faint piano melody emanating from the Great Hall. Surprised, she looked at them … and she heard the same melody that had stopped them in their tracks.

It was a slow, melodic waltz which evoked feelings of romance, love, companionship … togetherness. It seemed as if a whole range of emotions had been incorporated into the waltz … and like all magical waltzes, it had the power to capture them and push them gently into a dance (or a trance, whichever the case may be!)

For Dame Rivers, however, the melody brought her mind and memories back a quarter century before … and she wondered, by what order of magic did the castle have, to bring back the single cue that brought along with it the most powerful memory of that night – and the lesson that she had taught – and learned -- so many years before?

She glanced at her companions – and felt a wave of disappointment wash through her for a brief instant. Rather than being captivated by the melody emanating from the Great Hall, the Head Girl and her counterpart were exchanging glances that made it clear what was on their minds: who was out violating curfew this night of all nights, when the Minister of Magic was visiting – and how many House points would they be able to take from the offender, or offenders?

She shook her head in exasperation and, without a word to her companions, walked over to the Great Hall, where she opened the doors and peeked in … to be greeted by a most wondrous sight.

Seated at the grand piano, which former Headmistress Minerva McGonagall had brought in years before as a tribute to Professor Dumbledore, was a young girl with long, bushy brown hair wearing ancient Gryffindor Quidditch robes, playing the melody that captivated Dame Rivers – the melody that had brought a wave of memories crashing down on her. Standing beside the girl on the piano was a younger girl who looked almost enough like the first to be a twin – except for bushy, midnight-black hair that looked as if a comb had despaired of ever taming it. This girl was also engrossed in the music – eyes closed, she was waving her wand as if she were conducting an unseen orchestra, and leading them through the paces of that magical, enchanting tune.

Around them were the various Hogwarts ghosts – the most prominent being the Bloody Baron and the Fat Friar (both holding tankards of butterbeer), who were listening to the music while swaying in time to the tune, watching Nearly-Headless Nick and the Grey Lady dancing in a slow, stately and dreamy waltz, along with other ghostly pairings. Even Peeves was to one side, floating in time to the tune … seeming, for once, at peace with the world and up to no harm (or perhaps, he was scared of breaking the Baron’s jovial mood?}

The ghostly light lent a soft, soothing and, strangely romantic ambience to the Great Hall, lit as it was with torches and the light emanating from a full moon through the enchanted roof. An enchanting smile broke out on Dame Rivers’ face – and with a sharp gesture, she stopped Head Boy Brian Yoon from bursting into the Hall and interrupting the ghostly dance.

They stood quietly and watched the on-going tableau before them. Soon enough, the music ended, and the ghostly dancers (led by Sir Nicholas and the Grey Lady) congregated around the blushing young students, congratulating them and applauding in their ghostly fashion. Dame Rivers also started clapping, to the surprise of Ashley and Brian … and walked over to the surprised students, followed by the Head Boy and Head Girl.

“That was a lovely piece, my dear!” she congratulated the two girls, who were now standing with mouths agape, dismayed at being caught outside their Common Room after curfew. “It brought back memories … I know the tune, but never did find out the title of the piece …”

Her question was interrupted by the stiff tones of the Head Boy, “What are you doing outside the Common Room, Catriona? It’s after curfew! Fifty …”

“I was asking the young lady a question, Mr. Yoon,” the Minister of Magic broke in with an icy glare that rivaled the famous McGonagall glare by a good measure, causing the Head Boy to step back in apology. Her face softened as she turned to the young girl, an eyebrow raised in a question …

“Ummm … I really wouldn’t know, Ma’am,” Catriona answered. “Mum and Dad always called it ‘The Unknown Waltz’.”

“Unknown Waltz?” Dame Rivers frowned at that. “Mum and Dad?”

“Oh!” Head Girl Ashley stepped in, obviously in an effort to call attention away from her counterpart’s faux pas with the Minister. “Dame Rivers, may I introduce Catriona Rhiannon Potter, sometimes known as Catsky, and her sister, Elise.”

Dame Rivers’ face lit up at that, “You’re Harry and Hermione’s daughters? I should have known …”

Catsky’s face mirrored surprise and curiosity as she shook hands with the Minister of Magic; her sister, however, asked (with the same directness that characterized their famous mother), “Yes, Ma’am … were you classmates with them?”

Dame Rivers’ smile widened even more. “Thank you for the complement, my dear! But no … I was teaching at Hogwarts when they were students.”

“Oh,” a clearly embarrassed Elise Potter murmured.

“No need to be embarrassed, my dear,” Dame Rivers said with a grin. “I consider it a complement to be mistaken for a classmate of your parents … it means I’m not that old!” The two girls looked at her and smiled, and she continued, “But that piece you were playing, Catsky … the ‘Unknown Waltz’?”

“I really wouldn’t know, Ma’am,” Catsky replied. “As I said, Mum and Dad always called it ‘The Unknown Waltz.’ I never really did try to find out what was the title of that piece … you see, I asked my Dad to teach me how to play it when I was very young … he just showed me how to play it … no sheet music or anything,” Catsky suddenly stopped as she realized that she was rambling. In a small voice, she said, “I’m sorry …”

“Don’t worry about it, my dear,” replied Dame Rivers, with a soft laugh. “You sound just like your mother. I assume the two of you are doing well in class?”

“Top of their years, both of them, Ma’am,” Brian replied. “Although they both have a tendency to break the rules …”

“Just like Harry and Hermione, I presume,” Dame Rivers said with a smile at the two, and a glare at the Head Boy. “Or are they more like Gred and Forge Weasley?”

She looked at the confused faces of the older students (and the delighted smiles of the younger ones) and sighed – it had been quite a few years, after all! “Never mind … let’s make ourselves comfortable.”

She walked over to one of the tables (unconsciously, she had walked over to the Gryffindor table – some things are never quite forgotten), and with a wave of her wand, conjured a tea pot with cups, sugar and cream, along with a tray of sandwiches. As she gestured the others to have a seat, she turned to the ghosts who were still hovering around and invited them to join (apologizing as she realized that they would not be able to eat with them).

Before she sat down, however, she saw a slight movement out of the corner of her eye, and she swiftly turned, wand out and ready. “Peeves!” she barked out, “Try that and I swear on the spirit of Albus Dumbledore that I’ll have you locked up in a broom closet with Moaning Myrtle!”

There was a chorus of ‘Oooohs!’ from the assembled ghosts (along with a ghostly snicker from the Bloody Baron) … and they watched a surprised and infuriated Peeves zoom out of the Great Hall.

The Minister of Magic sat down at the head of the table, and smiled at the assembled students and ghosts. “Now, where were we? Oh, yes,” and she turned to the two sisters, “’The Unknown Waltz’?”

The sisters looked at each other and, with a small gesture from Elise, Catsky answered, “It’s like this, Ma’am. Dad told me that the first time they ever danced together was to that song … and that, for some reason or other, they always knew that it would be their song ... In any case, every time they go to a party … someone always plays that song, usually late at night or just before the party is about to end … it’s like a signal to them.”

“A signal?” Ashley asked, now also interested.

Elise took up the story. “Yes, Ma’am,” she said politely. “Mum said that when she hears the song being played, she’d stop whatever it was she was doing, look for Dad so that they could have at least one dance together … after which, they can make their good byes and go home.”

Catsky, nodding at Elise, continued the tale of the Unknown Waltz, “The first time I heard it, Dad and Mum had to bring us because they couldn’t get a baby sitter. I was sneaking around watching them …Elise was tagging after me, of course …”

“Hmph,” her sister said. “But it was so … I don’t know how to describe it. Cats?”

“Beautiful. Wonderful. Lovely. Sappy. Dad said they’d been doing it since that first dance,” Catsky continued, not noticing that Dame Rivers’ eyes had glazed over … a wistful smile playing over her face as her mind and memories were sent back almost a quarter-century before …

* * * * *

The wizarding world really knew how to throw a party, Dame Rivers thought – and Hogwarts Castle was no exception. She’d been a Seventh Year Gryffindor when Voldemort was first defeated by the infant Harry Potter seventeen years before – and the celebrations this time, following the news that Voldermort had been utterly defeated, never to rise again, was even better than anything she could have imagined.

She looked around at the Great Hall, transformed by the professors and House Elves into a grand ballroom, and she watched the swirl of colors and clothes as students, teachers and VIPs from the Ministry of Magic, various embassies, and members of prominent wizarding families mingled in small groups, laughing or talking, or danced with either significant others or momentary dates.

What made things even sweeter was that The Defeat (or The Victory, depending on one’s age) had happened just before Christmas – pushing the festivities for that year to an even higher plane. There had been parties and balls … fireworks and drinking … wizards standing in corners all over Muggle Britain to discuss what had happened, while toasting themselves, each other … and The Boy Who Lived, who had finally defeated Voldemort.

There had been invitations galore sent out all over Britain – and tons of these had been sent to Hogwarts Castle, requesting the presence of Harry Potter at this or that party to be held in his honor … all of which had gone unanswered. Rather than wear out the school owls (to say nothing of the staff’s hands!) in answering every individual letter or invitation, Headmaster Albus Dumbledore had sent word to the Daily Prophet that Harry Potter was resting … and that he would be attending a Victory Ball at Hogwarts, coinciding with the New Year celebrations …

She sighed, softly. ‘It was a good idea of Dumbledore,’ she thought to herself. ‘Harry Potter, after all, is a Hogwarts student,’ and Dame Rivers knew, as well as any other person in that room, that this was, in fact, Harry’s only real world. What better way to celebrate his victory, she’d thought (along with all the teachers), than with the people who really populated his world?

Her happiness at being a part of this celebration was tempered with a tinge of worry, however, as she looked across the Hall – and spotted a small, slim seventeen-year old girl with long, bushy brown hair tamed with either liberal doses of Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion or an advanced hair-grooming charm, wearing blue periwinkle dress robes, and surrounded by a flock of admirers (both male and female from all ages) … but whose expertly applied cosmetics could not hide either the pallor of her face, or a haunted, hunted look lurking in her brown, cinnamon-flecked eyes.

Dame Rivers shivered as she remembered the events of the past few weeks. What very few people outside the Hogwarts faculty (and a very few students) knew was that the triggering event to Voldemort’s downfall had been the kidnapping of Hermione Granger from the Hogwarts Express on her way home for the Christmas break.

It was apparent to everyone not deaf, dumb or blind that the objective of the attack was to lure Harry Potter out from the protection of Hogwarts Castle … and to push him into a rash move to rescue the girl he so obviously was in love with.

What no one – least of all, Voldemort – had expected was that the action had merely pushed Harry in the other direction: rather than the anticipated actions of a hormonally-charged teenager leading with his wand and his balls, Voldemort and his minions had to face a cold, calculating machine tempered by seven years of battles with the Dark Side – and seven years of matching strategies and wits with that master of Wizard’s Chess, Ronald Weasley.

How Harry had finally defeated Voldemort was a mystery that only Harry Potter knew … when the smoke of battle had cleared from Riddle Mansion, the Death Eaters, including Lord Voldemort, had eaten death, and choked on it – but there had been no sign of Harry Potter or Hermione Granger.

Soon after the magical authorities found the remnants of that final battle (led by Ron Weasley, who’d accompanied Harry to the gates of the mansion before going for help), an urgent summons brought Dumbledore, McGonagall, Hogwarts Nurse Madame Pomfrey, and Dame Rivers to the Granger home – where they’d found a bloody and battered Harry Potter slumped on the floor, holding the hand of an equally battered Hermione Granger, asleep in her own bed, surrounded by the stuffed toys she’d loved as a child, as well as the books that were her signature and trademark in Hogwarts.

The still-shocked Grangers told Dumbledore and McGonagall that Harry appeared at their home earlier that evening, riding a broomstick from who knows where, and carrying the unconscious, but murmuring Hermione Granger. Harry had said only seven words to them when he showed up at their home (where they had been waiting in dread anticipation for days for word about their daughter): “She wanted to come home for Christmas.”

Harry had carried her up to her room – and had promptly collapsed after he’d laid her on the bed. The Grangers had been at their wits’ end as to what to do – when Hedwig, Harry’s owl, had shown up and started tapping on Hermione’s window. They’d promptly written a note to Dumbledore, and asked Hedwig to bring it to Hogwarts – the snowy owl apparently knew just what to do …

Dame Rivers shook off the chill she felt. She’d joined the Hogwarts faculty two years before to teach Medicinal Magic, and to assist Madam Pomfrey with anticipated casualties in the coming battles with Voldemort. It was her background and experience that made Dumbledore include her in their visit to the Grangers; she and Poppy Pomfrey had done what they could to heal the various cuts and bruises that the two teenagers had suffered (Hermione worst of all, since she had been held prisoner for almost a week before Harry had rescued her) … but she, more than the other three, knew that while the magical body was easily cured, the mind was a different matter all together.

Dame Rivers shook the memories off, and looked around her. She had taken a break from her assigned task of watching the punch bowl – a task she shared with Minerva McGonagall, a duty made all the more important with the presence of Fred and George Weasley (who had arrived with the entire Weasley family to celebrate with Ron), whom no one would trust with either the drinks or the food. Although, she thought (and hoped!), that Minerva’s threat to turn them both into spittoons for the use of the guests would prevent them from slipping anything into the celebration, it was still better to be safe than sorry.

She stole another quick glance at Hermione Granger, who smiled back at her in a reassuring manner (after all, Dame Rivers had spent hours trying to undo the damage done to her), and whispered softly to herself, “I hope she will be all right.”

“The resilience of youth, Amanda,” a voice whispered in her ear. Startled, she turned around and saw Minerva McGonagall standing beside her, the punch bowl apparently forgotten, as the latter watched her favorite student. “It’s all we can hope for now.”

Dame Rivers nodded at that, and asked, “Has she … um, talked about what happened to her?”

“No, she hasn’t,” Professor McGonagall admitted. “I was just talking with her parents before the ball started; apparently, she either has no memory of what happened … or she’s keeping it bottled up inside her.”

“Do you think that Harry Potter …”

“Memory-Charmed her?” McGonagall shook her head. “Harry swears he didn’t … as I understand it, she was delirious when he got to her, kept talking about going home for Christmas, which was why he brought her home rather than to Hogwarts …”

“So, she either has no knowledge of what happened, or she’s keeping it to herself.”

“I’m betting it’s the latter, which wouldn’t be good for her,” McGonagall replied in a soft voice. Dame Rivers glanced over at Hermione and caught again the haunted and eerie look in her eyes as she glanced at her mentor and her healer, apparently knowing that they were discussing her.

Dame Rivers shook off the shiver that ran down her spine at that look, and asked, “Has she talked with Harry yet?”

McGonagall shook her head, and was about to reply when a sudden silence fell over the room.

* * * * *

“I was really surprised,” the voice of Harry and Hermione’s elder daughter broke into Dame Rivers’ reverie. “I mean … from what Uncle Ron and everyone else said, that they’d been dating for years … but they said that their first dance was in their seventh year – and they weren’t even dating then!”

“It was the night of the Victory Ball, Catriona,” Dame Rivers said in a soft voice. “That was in their seventh year … the year your Dad and Mum defeated Lord Voldemort, the greatest Dark Wizard of the time … and you’re right. They weren’t even dating then … they were just the best of friends …”

“Ma’am?” Dame Rivers shook herself, looking back at the stares of the Potter daughters. “Oh … nothing, nothing. Just something I remembered … but please, continue with your story. I want to hear what happened at that party …”

Catsky and Elise looked at her for a long moment, and then continued, “Well … it always seemed that they’d make a dramatic entrance, no matter what they tried to do. The moment they’d stepped into the room, the whole place will go quiet …”

“It was eerie,” Elise contributed. “Walking up to the house, you could hear the noise for blocks around … the moment we entered, it was … silence. And then, someone would greet them … and they’ll be surrounded by people …”

As the two told their impressions of the party, Dame Rivers’ mind once again floated backwards in time …

* * * * *

Harry Potter had walked into the Great Hall.

He stood there quietly, seemingly unaffected by the silence, but his eyes were darting around, searching for something … or some one. Dame Rivers glanced at the place where she had last seen Hermione – and noticed that the latter, like everyone else in the Hall, was frozen in place – except that, in Hermione’s case, she was breathing shallowly and swiftly – and the haunted look in her eyes seemed to have been replaced by a look of sheer terror and fright.

Dame Rivers looked back at Harry Potter and saw that he had seen Hermione – for the briefest of moments, a warm and caring smile broke out on his worried face, to be replaced by a look of shock, and a look of fear that mirrored the expression in Hermione’s eyes … and he took a step forward.

That move, however, appeared to be a signal to the people who had frozen into silence at his entrance. A roar of applause thundered within the room … the orchestra broke into a martial, victorious fanfare … and Harry Potter found himself suddenly surrounded by people, shaking his hands, clapping him on the back, embracing him …

He’d tried to be gracious about it, but Dame Rivers saw that his smile had frozen … and his emerald-green eyes, behind the glasses that he wore, were alternately torn between looking at all the people trying to greet him – and searching the room for Hermione … He’d tried to fend off the attention focused on him, when the orchestra broke into a fast dance number – and he found himself literally dragged to the dance floor by the buxomly matron of one of the prominent wizarding families, and practically pushed into the arms of the family’s daughter, who was all a-flutter with being given the first dance with The Boy Who Lived and Defeated Voldemort.

Dame Rivers had sniffed at the sight; she knew enough about Harry Potter from talking with teachers (and overheard student conversations) to know that he was too polite and self-effacing a wizard to refuse the dance forced on him by an overbearing (and apparently matchmaking-minded) mother … and she stole a swift glance back at the other star of the evening.

She expected to see a furious Hermione Granger looking daggers at either the daughter or her scheming mother – and was shocked to see a sad, wistful, but thoroughly understanding smile playing around Hermione’s lips. In that swift glance, she also noted that the haunted look in Hermione’s eyes now included an expression of utmost relief … as if she had been given a reprieve from an appointment with the hangman … and she turned away from the spectacle on the dance floor (where a dozen wizard paparazzi were snapping pictures of Harry dancing with some awestruck girl) … and turned back to her own crowd of admirers.

Dame Rivers gave off a deep sigh of frustration. ‘They should be celebrating this day together,’ she thought. ‘What’s wrong with them?’

She was sorely tempted to draw her wand and blast that interfering matchmaker and her daughter out of the ballroom, but stopped herself. She may be a Hogwarts professor, she realized, but she was not Harry or Hermione’s mother …

And she turned back to the refreshment table, determined to find something stronger than punch or butterbeer, if she had to transfigure the liquid herself. As she turned away, however, an infinitesimal movement caught her eye … when she turned back to confirm what she thought she saw, the moment had passed …

* * * * *

“They’ll be surrounded by their fans … Dad always had this legion of fan-girls following him around, while a lot of guys will be surrounding Mum …” Dame Rivers shook herself again as Catsky Potter’s voice broke once more into her trance. She glanced around, a little guilty at drifting off again while the elder Potter daughter told her story – and thanked the gods that no one seemed to have noticed, engrossed as they all were in Catsky’s tale.

She forced herself to listen attentively as Elise continued the story, “But they’d keep moving around … it took me some time to realize that they were just positioning themselves …”

“Positioning themselves? Like chess pieces, you mean?” Nearly-Headless Nick asked, now also interested in the tale.

“Not really, Sir Nicholas,” Catriona replied. “They just seemed to position themselves so they could always see each other, even surrounded by people …”

* * * * *

The dancing couples broke up and reformed as the music went on … and it seemed that Harry Potter had no end of anxious dance partners literally fighting for a chance to get in a dance with him. Dame Rivers had been surreptitiously observing him as time passed, and felt a stab of pity running through her heart for him.

It seemed that he was never given a moment to himself – if he wasn’t dancing with a nubile student, or a dressed-to-kill twenty-something witch, or a dressed-to-the-nines matron (and there were many of them!), he seemed to be locked in conversation with various groups of people – adoring younger Hogwarts students (mostly females), loud, backslapping male students or alumni (one of these, a most handsome chap, was Oliver Wood, Harry Potter’s former Quidditch team captain), and a succession of well-fed and fashionably dressed wizard-businessmen who were buttonholing him, apparently intent on hiring the famous Harry Potter to join their businesses.

Harry had been unfailingly polite to all the attention given him, and Dame Rivers couldn’t help but admire the boy for his confidence and aplomb. In the course of her furtive surveillance, however, she started noticing something different in Harry’s actions … it took her a while before she realized that, no matter what he was doing (dancing, talking to people, grabbing a drink or eating some food), he was always facing towards the center of the hall.

Even when people were talking to him or surrounding him, Harry seemed to be moving unobtrusively, maneuvering himself (and the others) in such a way that he could always look towards the center of the Great Hall. When she had finally realized this, Dame Rivers tried to position herself to see what it was that Harry was looking at … and wasn’t surprised to find that Hermione Granger, no matter what she was doing (dancing, talking with people, or standing by the buffet tables) was always in Harry’s line-of-sight. The thought struck her at that moment, when she saw Hermione glance up and give a soft smile, that Hermione was also moving around – and finding a way to keep Harry in sight.

And yet … it seemed that every time their eyes would meet, one or the other would suddenly turn away. They were in a strange dance by themselves – a dance of avoidance, and Dame Rivers sighed to herself in frustration.

She stood by the refreshment table and glared at the two (luckily, neither one noticed, engrossed as they were in their own dance of evasion), and she shook her head at their antics. Her reverie was interrupted, however, by low voices speaking behind her, and she focused her hearing on the conversation.

“They’re doing it again,” said a female voice. “I’m of a mind to go over there now and thwap them on their silly little heads.”

“Would it do any good, Ginny? You know how stubborn those two are …” a male voice replied.

“I’m serious, Ron!”

“You’re not,” another male voice responded. “He is.”

The statement was followed by hoots of laughter, coming from both the female voice and a deeper, male voice that turned the air vibrant. Dame Rivers chanced a look behind her, and saw that Ron and Ginny Weasley (with their brother Fred or George) were talking with a tall, dark-haired, gorgeous wizard whom she immediately recognized as Sirius Black – once the most infamous (and only) prisoner to have escaped Azkaban, now cleared of his crimes and a respected member of the wizarding community.

And coincidentally, Harry Potter’s godfather.

Dame Rivers turned back to watching the party, but unashamedly continued eavesdropping on the conversation behind her.

“Talking about my godson behind his back, are you?” Sirius commented. “Anything new happening?”

“They’re still avoiding each other, Sirius,” Ginny replied in an exasperated tone. “I’d thought that after Volde— I mean, Tom Riddle was finally defeated, that they would finally admit what they’re feeling … apparently it’s a lost cause.”

“Yeah,” her brother replied. “I think Harry’s become so used to thinking of her as his best friend that he cannot think of her in any other way. Would you believe, even when You-Know-Who kidnapped Hermione, the only thought on his mind was that the bastard had kidnapped his best friend? He didn’t even know he was in love with her, the dense git, even though I had known it for years …”

There was an uncomfortable silence from the group behind Dame Rivers, broken by Sirius’ thoughtful voice. “Maybe that’s how he was able to do what he did … you were there, Ron, Fred. Riddle Mansion had been blasted to pieces … dead Death Eaters everywhere … Voldemort looking as if he’d been knifed in the guts …”

“Yeah, I know,” Fred’s voice said. “If that’s Harry on a rampage, I’d hate to be on his bad side when he wakes up on the wrong side of the bed …”

“Or if someone tried to do that again to Hermione,” Ron’s voice broke in. “That was You-Know-Who’s biggest mistake, I think. He assumed that Harry was in love with Hermione, and that kidnapping her would distract him … You-Know-Who never realized that Harry thought of Hermione only as his best friend. That kept Harry from being distracted … he went after his friend, not the one he was in love with.”

Silence followed this statement. Sirius Black’s thoughtful voice once again broke it, “If Harry can do that for a friend … I wonder what would have happened if he knew he was – is – in love with Hermione.”

“There would have been nothing left of Riddle Mansion – and Harry and Hermione -- but a hole in the ground.” The voice of Albus Dumbledore broke into the conversation. “Mr. Weasley is right, you know. Harry’s powers, strong as they are, are still largely uncontrolled … but I think the experience has tempered him. He now knows he must exercise diligent control over himself … and he will be training himself with that in mind.”

“I wonder how Hermione feels about this,” Fred spoke up. “I mean … Harry did go after her, but he went after her because she’s his friend …”

“She’s waiting for him,” Ginny’s voice sounded positive and sure, although one could detect a feeling of loss underneath her words. “She’s known for years … but she has always known that whatever feelings they have for each other must take second place to defeating You-Know-Who.”

“A most astute observation, Miss Weasley,” Dumbledore said. “Miss Granger told me as much when I visited her at home before bringing her back to Hogwarts. Harry was on a fine line when he went after Voldemort … it was only the thought of her as his friend and not something else that kept him from losing control – and destroying everything with him when he destroyed Voldemort.”

There was a short pause, pregnant with meaning, and Dumbledore continued, “One can only hope that now that Voldemort is finally, and truly, defeated … that Harry will understand what has always been in his heart …”

Their conversation suddenly fell silent, and Dame Rivers sensed that the group had broken apart. Glancing around her, she saw that Hermione was approaching the refreshment table she was watching, apparently intent on getting something cool to drink. She was about to approach her to offer something when she saw Hermione suddenly pause, and look back over her shoulder.

From her vantage point, Dame Rivers could see that Harry Potter was, once again, looking at Hermione. She watched as Hermione placed a hand to her mouth … and blew Harry Potter a kiss. She watched with amusement as Harry threw up his hand as if to catch the kiss … and brought his hand to his mouth, totally ignoring the person he was talking with (a young witch who seemed to be hanging on to his every word).

The witch looked puzzled at Harry’s actions (although she apparently suspected something amiss), and glanced over her shoulder … but Hermione had turned away, and was apparently pouring herself a goblet of cold pumpkin juice. Dame Rivers smiled to herself as she watched the young witch turn back to Harry.

She was in the line of sight to Harry as Hermione straightened up, holding the goblet of juice and turned back to him … and saw Harry smile at Hermione …

But Hermione had turned away … and Dame Rivers watched as the smile faded away from Harry’s face …

* * * * *

“Dad smiled at Mum,” Catriona Rhiannon Potter voice once again breaking into the Minister of Magic’s memories. “And then … Dad saw me watching them, and he smiled at me … I swear,” she said with a sigh, “if he weren’t my Dad, I would have melted into the floor right then …”

Dame Rivers’ face broke into a broad smile. She knew what Catsky was talking about … she’d been there when Harry had smiled at Hermione in that way, so many years ago, and she could still feel herself melting when she thought about it – although, her memory reminded her, Hermione had not seen that smile that first time ...

“Speak for yourself, Catsky,” her sister said in a trying to be older and more mature voice. “I saw the same thing … I had to sit down when Dad smiled at Mum. Can you imagine how Mum could stand it?”

“Well, Mum’s had all those years to get used to it,” Catsky said, in a high and mighty tone. “I wonder, however, why they keep doing it … it always seems to me like something teenagers would do …”

* * * * *

Dame Rivers could not take it any longer. After watching Hermione’s flying kiss … Harry’s catch of that kiss (and pressing it to his lips) … followed by that gorgeous, absolutely heart-melting smile … and Hermione missing that smile … she felt like hexing the whole Great Hall.

With an angry sigh, she grabbed a goblet of hot buttered rum and stormed out the Hall (brushing past an astonished Hermione in the process), heading for the entrance to Hogwarts where she could take a calming, cool breath of fresh air …

Outside, she took a breath of the icy air … and had the presence of mind to cast a warming charm on the goblet she held. Without a conscious thought, she started walking around the grounds, finally pausing near a statue of a large stone reindeer, and drawing another deep, cleansing breath.

And nearly choked when she heard Harry Potter’s voice talking to someone on the other side of the statue.

“Hermione’s always been the strong one, Professor,” Harry was saying. “She was the one who always believed that we would win … that I would finally defeat Voldemort … that there was going to be a life for me after Voldemort.”

“And what about you, Harry?” Professor Dumbledore’s voice responded.

“I don’t know, Professor.” There was a long silence. “I tried to make her believe that I believed in what she was saying … but I think she always knew that I didn’t believe it.”

“But that didn’t stop her from having faith in you, Harry.”

“I guess.”

Silence.

“Faith is a powerful force in and of itself, Harry. It lies at the core of all magic … the belief that you can do magic is the first step in any magical education. Otherwise, whatever magic we have will always be uncontrolled … and ultimately, useless because it cannot be used properly.”

Harry was silent, and Dumbledore continued, “Which was why Voldemort kidnapped Hermione … he was trying to remove the source of your faith … he wanted to remove from the board the one person who truly believed in you. He thought that by taking Hermione, he would disable you …”

“He almost did, Professor,” Harry whispered. “When we learned that Hermione had been kidnapped, I didn’t know what to do … Did you know, I couldn’t do any magic for about an hour after we got the word? I had locked myself in my room … barricaded the door with my trunk … tried the simplest charms and spells … couldn’t do anything at all! I knew we were doomed … that if I couldn’t do the simplest spells … Hermione would be dead … and I might as well have been dead.”

“But you didn’t,” Dumbledore replied. “You were able to go after Voldemort by yourself … not just go after him, but defeated him. How?”

A strangled whisper. “You’re a great wizard, Harry.”

“Harry?”

“It was something Hermione told me when we were in first year … right after she figured out the Potions problem, and I had to go for the Sorcerer’s Stone. She told me … she told me, ‘You’re a great wizard, Harry …’ I never forgot that … she never made me forget that …”

“You found faith in yourself, Harry. Hermione helped you find it within yourself … all those years ago, and it all came together when you needed it – which is why you finally were able to defeat Voldemort, and save Hermione at the same time.”

“But I placed her in danger, Professor! My best friend … my best friend in all the world … and I placed her in danger …” Harry paused, and in an anguished voice continued, “I never wanted to place her in danger … I didn’t want to fall in love with her … because I knew she will become a target for Voldemort. I didn’t even want to depend on her … to use her faith as my strength because I would place her in danger … but I couldn’t help myself.”

In an tortured whisper, he repeated, “I couldn’t help myself … and I placed her in danger because of my need for her faith.”

Dame Rivers resisted the urge to run around the reindeer and brain Harry Potter with the goblet she held. The boy may have been the most powerful wizard in a century … but magic could do nothing to cure blindness … and he still remained blind to that single truth … that Hermione’s unswerving faith in him stemmed from … from …

Dumbledore’s voice stopped her from throwing her goblet in frustration.

“And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.” There was another pause as Dumbledore allowed the words he quoted to sink in. “Harry, Hermione would never have believed in you, were it not for the fact that she loves you … Maybe not in that way … (Dame Rivers knew that Dumbledore had stopped Harry’s protests.) It may be the love of friendship … you did, after all, save her life from the mountain troll … and she has saved your life as you did hers again and again over the years …

“But keep this in mind, Harry – she would never have had that much faith and trust in you, unless she loved you. And … you would not have been able to go after her … you would not have found the faith to help you defeat Voldemort and his Death Eaters, unless you loved her back.

“Don’t you think so, Amanda?”

A startled Dame Rivers almost dropped her goblet as she spun around – and realized that Harry and Professor Dumbledore had stepped around the stone reindeer. She sputtered an apology, but Dumbledore only held up his hand to silence her. Harry, on the other hand, seemed deep in thought … and made no sign that he was bothered or disturbed that she had overheard the discussion.

She looked closely at him, and was shocked as she saw the pained, haunted look on Hermione’s face reflected in his own. She couldn’t understand where that was coming from – and then Harry spoke, in a strangled whisper, “I don’t know what to believe in anymore, Professor … I’ve lived for too long believing that I would die in trying to stop Voldemort … I was prepared to die to protect Hermione, and Ron, and Ginny, everyone … so that I could keep them from danger … it was only Hermione who really believed in me … tried to make me believe that there was going to be a life for me after Voldemort … now that Voldemort’s dead … I don’t know what to believe anymore … I don’t know!”

Dame Rivers waited for Dumbledore to respond – and looked up in surprise when no response came. She saw Dumbledore’s eyes on her … as if waiting for her to provide an answer to Harry’s anguished question, and she stepped back in shock. What was she to say? She didn’t have Dumbledore’s years of wisdom … she didn’t have half of the brains of Hermione Granger … or even half of the apparent magic that Harry Potter possessed …

But Dumbledore’s eyes were focused on her … as if urging her to speak … to find something in her storehouse of knowledge and memories that could help Harry Potter at this point in his life … something deep within her forced its way out of her heart and her soul ...

“Harry,” she began. “I believe that I can speak for Hermione on this … if there is one thing that she believes in … if there is one thing she has more faith in than anything in this world …”

Harry Potter looked up at her, and she met his eyes.

“She believes in love.”

“And magic.”

With those words, Dame Rivers transfigured her goblet into a rose which she handed to Harry.

“Think about that,” she said.

With that, she turned on her heel and went back to the Great Hall, with Professor Dumbledore beside her, leaving Harry Potter on the snow-covered grounds, holding a rose.

* * * * *

“Mum would smile at Dad,” the voice of Elise Potter broke Dame Rivers’ thoughts this time, “and Dad would transfigure whatever he was holding into a rose, which he would carry to Mum … he would bow to her … she would curtsey to him and accept the rose …”

And Dame Rivers’ eyes suddenly filled with tears as she watched the now-empty Great Hall transformed into a crowded dance floor …

* * * * *

I had grabbed another buttered rum from the refreshment table when the orchestra swung into the first notes of a strangely haunting, familiar yet unfamiliar, tune. I made a mental note to ask the name of that song, when I saw a wide-eyed Hermione Granger, standing like a deer bracketed by the headlights of an on-rushing car ... her dance partner forgotten ...

Harry Potter was staring at her, arms at his sides, one hand still holding a rose … There was a strange look on his face … as if he had been pole-axed in the back of his head … he kept staring at his best friend as if he had just seen her for the first time only at that precise moment in his life.

For a brief moment, it seemed that time itself was holding its breath … Hermione staring at Harry, her dance partner forgotten even as he tried to get her to move … Harry frozen in place, still staring at her as if really, really seeing her for the first time …

And then … Harry took a step.

Hermione dropped her hands from her dance partner’s shoulders, and turned to face him.

Time started moving again, but slowly … as if a viscous fluid had inundated the Great Hall, forcing movement down to a slow, stately crawl … even the music seemed to slow down as Harry Potter started walking across the dance floor, couples slowly parting before him as he approached Hermione …

And time again stood still the moment the two finally faced each other, one step apart, in the middle of the dance floor. Their eyes locked – and I knew a conversation was taking place … questions asked, questions answered … apologies made, apologies accepted … forgiveness sought, forgiveness given without rancor or remorse … a request made – and a wish granted … a promise made, and the answer given …

Harry Potter gave a deep bow to Hermione Granger.

Hermione Granger answered with a slight, but elegant curtsy.

Harry Potter held out the rose.

Hermione Granger stepped closer, accepting the rose from him, and pinning it to her dress with a magically-conjured pin.

They stood facing each other once again.

And then, Hermione moved, placing one hand in his while the other went to his shoulder. Harry Potter clasped her hand, and placed his other hand around her waist.

The two moved into the steps of that waltz … hands clasped and around each other, eyes locked on the other as they continued talking without words, their movements flowing into each other as they danced to the music which seemed to have speeded up again to its normal pace …

“I believe Harry has finally found what has been in his heart for years,” Albus Dumbledore told me. I smiled at him – and saw that the other couples were slowly breaking apart. They were walking to the sides of the dance floor, leaving only a single couple locked in a dance – leaving them alone for the real dance that had started seven years before … a dance that we all knew would continue far into the conceivable future.

Harry and Hermione continued dancing alone … they neither knew or cared that they were the center of attention of everyone in Hogwarts Castle – dancing to a tune that we all knew would be theirs for the rest of their lives …

I knew I had learned an invaluable lesson for life … that love could be patient and kind, that love was not about passion or heat alone … that while love may seem to be a sudden realization, it was always best when it had been nurtured … that love which started as friendship, but cherished and cultivated, protected and loved, would bear fruit in its own time … and that true love, in the end, would always find each other …

I watched as Harry and Hermione drew closer … watched as Hermione quietly broke her gaze from Harry’s intense eyes to place her mouth close to his ear … and I could read her lips as she whispered, “Yes, Harry … I believe in love. And magic.”

And Hermione laid her head on his chest … Harry laid his chin on Hermione’s hair … dropped their hands to hold each other around the waist … and I started crying when Harry’s lips whispered five words, followed by two more – “I love you, Hermione Granger … very much.”

* * * * *

“SQUEEEEE!” Dame Rivers bolted from her chair at the delighted squeals that had burst from the four students surrounding her … and looked around in shock. She felt the tears flowing down her face, and made a move to wipe them off … noticing, at the same time, that Catsky, Elise and Ashley were covering their mouths with handkerchiefs or hands … that Head Boy Brian Yoon was turning away, trying to hide a reddened and embarrassed face … and that the ghosts of Hogwarts Castle had a silvery sheen of tears on their faces …

She felt cold fingers brushing her face – and she realized that the Grey Lady had approached her, and was wiping her tears off …

“You were here, weren’t you?” the Grey Lady asked in a soft voice. “You were remembering how it was when Harry Potter realized that he was in love with Hermione Granger … the night of the Victory Ball …”

“Yes, I was,” the Minister of Magic replied, “but what happened?”

“You fell into a trance, Minister,” Nearly-Headless Nick explained, “and you were telling the children what happened that night … that first dance of Harry and Hermione … that night of love and magic at the Victory Ball …”

Flushed, embarrassed, Dame Amanda Rivers tried to apologize for disrupting the story, but was surprised when the Potter daughters approached her … and embraced her. She hugged them back, and heard Catsky’s voice, muffled as it was, saying, “Thank you, Ma’am … I never knew the whole story. Dad and Mum never could tell us about it …”

“Yeah,” Elise said, as she broke the group hug, “Dad and Mum would always start with, ‘It was the night of the Victory Ball …’ and they’d both be silent …”

“Dad would just look at Mum with that goofy smile of his …”

“Mum would whisper, ‘Yes, Harry … I believe in love. And magic.”

“And they’d smile at each other … hug us both tightly … and they would forget all about the story.”

A discreet cough reminded them all of the time of night – and they prepared to go back to their respective dorms and rooms. As she was about to head off to her rooms, the Bloody Baron approached her – and she looked at him in surprise as he coughed, clearly embarrassed at something. “Minister,” he began and Dame Rivers, looking at him and seeing the side glances he was giving the Grey Lady, smiled.

“I think we can do better than that,” she said, and pulled out her wand. Waving it around with a few well-chosen incantations, she conjured up a cello and two ghostly violins that shimmered in the light as they floated in the air. The house ghosts applauded – the Bloody Baron and the Grey Lady smiled at her -- and Sir Nicholas and the Fat Friar took up the violins, while the Minister sat behind the cello, and directed Catsky to the piano.

“Elise,” she smiled, “would you care to lead this quartet?”

With a smile that would have lit up the castle, Elise took out her wand and took up a position in front of the four. With a confident wave, she started miming at conducting the mini-orchestra, and her sister, the Minister and the two ghosts started playing the Unknown Waltz.

With a courtly bow, the Bloody Baron asked the Grey Lady for a dance. A dream-like curtsey, and the two ghosts were dancing. Brian and Ashley watched them for a moment, when a movement in the corner caught their eyes. With a brilliant smile, Ashley whispered, “People …” while pointing to a corner, where they saw Peeves, with a smile of utter contentment, also dancing with a smiling Moaning Myrtle.

A few seconds later, Sir Brian the Head Boy of Hogwarts Castle bowed before Lady Ashley … with a courtly curtsy to him, they joined hands and started dancing to the magical music of the Unknown Waltz.

The End