Disclaimer: It all belongs to Ms Rowling. I know the old dance plot has been way overused, and I apologise profusely for adding to the endless repertoire. I’m not going to go further into detail about the event Harry alludes to that brought him and Ginny together. Just rest assured that Ginny was in mortal peril, and Harry, like any good Hero of the Universe would do, suddenly realised his feelings for her and saved her from a particularly gruesome fate at the hands of Voldemort. No speculations as to what the torture actually was, although I do suspect it involved forcing her to watch continuous reruns of ‘Three’s Company.’

Hard Rain Don’t Last

By Princess Kate

Grey clouds covered the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall, hiding away the stars, allowing only the faint silver blur of the full moon to shine through. But despite this, or perhaps because of it, Ron felt as if he had never before seen the room look as beautiful as it did tonight. The moon cast an eerie glow over the hall, gleaming off the glittering tinsel and colourful ornaments that had been carefully placed by Hagrid’s critical eye as decoration for the dance.

Despite himself, he felt glad that he hadn’t gone with his very first instinct the moment he had heard the dance announced: to run back to his dorm room and hide with his head under his pillow until it all blew over. The humiliation of the Yule Ball three years ago was still very fresh in his mind; he had no desire to put himself through anything like that ever again.

Harry had persisted and Ginny had whined, but he had remained steadfast in his resolution- an utterly silly thing, a dance was, especially just now with tensions with You-Know-Who at their very highest. Ron would have gladly signed up for fencing classes or advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts training, or anything he felt would have been any importance to the effort, but a dance? What the hell had Dumbledore been thinking?

‘He was thinking that all work and no play makes Jack a very dull boy,’ Hermione had answered one evening as the two sat studying in the library while Harry was at Quidditch practice, she scribbling away at a Transfiguration essay whilst she listened to him rant.

He raised an eyebrow. ‘That’s something I thought I’d never hear come out of your mouth, Hermione.’

‘Well, it’s true, nevertheless,’ she said, closing her book with a rather loud thump. ‘I think a dance is a very good idea- are you telling me you actually like having your life revolve around the fear of where You-Know-Who’ll attack next?"

‘Of course not. But a dance- a dance, Hermione! Doesn’t it seem kind of silly?’

Hermione gave a loud huff and tossed her bushy hair over her shoulder. ‘No one’s making you go. You can stay in the

Common Room by yourself all evening, if you’d like- just don’t expect Harry or me not to go just because you’re being an idiot.’

‘I’m not being an idiot! And I don’t give a damn whether you go or not!’

‘Good,’ Hermione sniffed, reaching across the table for her thick Arithmancy book. For a moment the two were silent as she devoted her entire attention to what looked to Ron to be a particularly dry, boring page. He sighed and tried to stare down at his hands, unable to keep his eyes from flitting up to her face every few seconds. Finally he could hold the question back no longer:

‘So just who are you going with?’

She gave another loud sniff. ‘If you’re not going, I don’t really see how it’s any of your business.’

‘It is my business. Who is it? Not Harry, and I don’t think it would be Neville- Dean, then? Or is Vicky flying in for the occasion?’

‘None of the above,’ she answered primly. ‘Although I suppose that Viktor would come in for it if I asked him to. He’s very fond of me, you know.’

‘Don’t tell me you’re going with that- that- Krum again?’

‘I don’t see why I shouldn’t. It’s not like I’m going with anyone else,’ she said coolly, the ends of her lips curling up in the beginnings of a smile as she kept her eyes carefully trained on the book.

It took a long moment for Ron to fully compose himself before bursting out: ‘You’re coming with me, that’s who you’re coming with!’

‘I thought you weren’t going.’

‘Of course I’m going. You need someone to go with, don’t you?’

Hermione sighed and shut her book. ‘I suppose so. It would be a rather long way for Victor to come in for something as utterly silly as a dance.’

‘Yes it would,’ said Ron emphatically, pounding his fist on the table and earning a scornful stare from Madame Pince.

‘You’re coming with me and you’re not going to think about Krum once!’

‘It’ll be hard,’ she sighed, standing up and gathering her books. She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. ‘But I guess I’ll find a way to manage.’

Ron flushed and sat back hard in his chair, watching bewilderedly as she grinned at him and glided out of the library, not quite sure exactly what had just happened here.

Even now, he was still rather befuddled on that point. He had gathered enough wits to realise that somehow he was taking

Hermione to the dance- the detested dance, the one that he swore he wouldn’t step foot near. Yet here he was, in the wide doorway to the Great Hall, actually gawking at the eerie beauty of the night- what was this world coming to?

"See it isn’t that bad, is it?" asked Hermione, nudging him lightly in the side to get him to move further into the Great Hall.

"It’s okay," he muttered. "If you go in for this sort of thing."

"I think it’s beautiful," Ginny piped up from behind him. "I’m afraid to touch anything for fear I’ll spoil it."

"Are we going to stand here gawking all day or are we going to go in?" asked Ron irritably.

"Gawking sounds like fun," grinned Harry, leading the way deeper into the Hall, towards a table already occupied by several other Gryffindors in their year.

Ron sighed heavily as he sat down- across from Hermione, so that he could spent the entire evening staring at her mutinously. Somehow she had tricked him into this!- he made a mental note to himself to kill her before the evening was over- provided he didn’t die first.

"You look as if someone had died, Ron," Lavender snapped, peevishly shredding her paper napkin into tiny bits. "No one has."

"Except my childhood," he answered with a dramatic sigh.

Both Hermione and Seamus gave rather loud sighs; Seamus crossly tearing the rest of the napkin out of

Lavender’s hands before she could tear it anymore, Hermione exclaiming loudly, "Is it honestly hurting you that much just to sit here with me?"

He shrugged rather enjoying the look of annoyance that flitted across her face.

Dean grinned. "I can already tell this is going to be a wonderful evening."

"Isn’t it?" gushed Parvati excitedly. "I love dances, you know. It’s so unfair that we haven’t had one since the Yule Ball, isn’t it? Oh, the music’s started finally! Come on, Roger."

She dragged the round faced Hufflepuff out of his chair and onto the dance floor. The look of terror of his face might have been quite amusing to Ron if he had been a better mood. Roger might not want to dance, but they had all learned early on never to Parvati once she got an idea fixed in her head.

Dean gave a sympathetic chuckle. "Poor guy. Never knew what hit him."

"Isn’t that the way it always is?" muttered Seamus. "I only hope he gets out while he still can."

Lavender only glared at him.

"Well." Dean gave a small cough, breaking into the small silence. "Maybe Parvati did have a good idea, now that I think about it, eh Christa?"

His date giggled bewilderedly and let him lead her out onto the floor.

Harry shot Ginny a questioning glance. "D’you wanna?"

"Sure," she said, flushing a bit pink in the old habit. "Come on Ron, you ought to give it a try, too."

He gave her a suspicious stare. "Just who’s side are you on?"

"Yours," she said, grabbing his hand in vain attempt to pull him on of the chair where he had rooted himself. "And Hermione’s."

"Two very different sides," he scoffed.

"It’s okay, Ginny," said Hermione. "We’ll just sit here. I reckon I wouldn’t really have much fun if we danced, anyway- I’d, in my mind, be always comparing this to the Yule Ball. Viktor was a wonderful dancer, you know."

Ron flushed a suspicious shade of red and was out of the chair in a second, pulling on her hand, "Let’s go?"

"Where?" she asked, pretending to be surprised.

"Oh, sod off," he muttered, "You know very well where."

Harry laughed as he took Ginny’s hand and followed their friends out onto the dance floor. Only Seamus and Lavender remained in stony silence at the table.

"She’s become practically evil," Ginny grinned, more to distract herself from the fact that Harry had just put his arms around her waist all pulled her closer to him than out of any exceptional interest in the subject.

"Ron deserves it," said Harry with a small smile. "At least one of them is halfway conscious about how they feel."

He motioned towards the other end of the dance floor, where a very red-faced Hermione was trying to explain to an even redder faced Ron that the object of dancing wasn’t standing, arms crossed, in the middle of the floor looking like you’d like to kill everybody, and yes, it was a necessity to actually touch your partner in the process.

Ginny smiled. "Well, it’s a start, isn’t it?"

"Yeah. Guess you’ve got to start someplace."

"Uh-huh."

They were both silent for a long moment, each absorbed in their own thoughts, letting the music sway around them like a soft breeze. Ginny finally started to relax into his embrace; he gave a long sigh and closed his eyes.

The moment was so perfect that it seemed to Harry to be almost a dream. It seemed almost impossible to him that they should really be here, together. Many days had passed since that terrible day last Spring, and yet, oddly, it felt as if no time had passed at all.

Unconsciously, he tightened his arms around her, silently swearing for the hundredth time never to let her go again. He squeezed his eyes shut harder, as if the mere action could somehow block out the inevitable memories, the memories that haunted him both nightly in his dreams and every time he looked at her, remembered just how close he had been to losing her…

How close he always was to losing her.

"Are you okay, Harry?" Her soft voice jolted him back to the present.

"Fine," he muttered. "More than fine."

"I’m glad," she said, her reply a bit muffled as she leaned her head on his shoulder. "I wouldn’t want you to be having a bad time."

Gently, he pulled her head up and cupped her chin in his hands. "When I’m around you I can never be having a bad time."

She blushed a bit pink but obligingly let him kiss her.

"Ginny?" he muttered as they separated.

"Mm-hmm?"

He paused, searching for the right words, but none of them seemed to suffice. How could anyone possibly put into words the vast ocean of what he felt for her? It couldn’t be done, but he was determined not to give up without at least trying. "I just wanted to tell you… to tell you that I… well… I love you, Ginny."

Her head shot up and she stiffened in his embrace. Harry was startled, wondering just what he had said wrong- it certainly hadn’t been the reaction he had allowed himself to imagine.

"Oh, no, Harry," she cried. "You can’t."

"Why not?" he asked reasonably, still too puzzled to be able to think out a better response.

She stifled a cry and ran from the room. Harry paused only a moment before tearing after her.

"Ginny!" he called, slowing to a walk as he entered the dark courtyard, lit only by hanging Chinese lanterns.

"Where are you?"

"Not here!" came a timid sniffle from the other side of a large rhododendron bush. "Try somewhere else!"

Harry, not being as much an idiot as perhaps Ginny would have liked to believe he was, ignored her protests as he instead knelt down beside her, they both completely hidden from view from behind the bush.

"What’s the matter?"

She blew her nose noisily on the hem of her robe. "Pretend you didn’t see that, okay? Mum’d be livid."

"It’s a promise," said Harry solemnly, holding up a hand.

Ginny grinned weakly. "I’m sorry."

"For what? If it was what I said, I can’t say that I’m sorry for saying it. But I am very sorry if I somehow caused you any pain…"

"No, it’s not that," she sniffed, eyes again beginning to water suspiciously. "It’s just- just- oh Harry, did you really mean it?"

"Of course I meant it," he answered bewilderedly. "I’m not in the habit of saying things I don’t mean. Especially not to you."

She smiled up rapturously at him, but her smiles in were cut off in a moment by a racking sob. "Oh Harry, I think I love you, too."

"Er- I’m very glad," he muttered dazedly as she flung herself at him, her arms clinging tightly to her neck as if she were afraid to let him go. After some quick internal debate as to what exactly to do with his arms, he put them around her, letting her cry out onto his shoulder, quite unsure as to what do say.

Presently, she looked up, eyes shining with tears. "You must think I’m the silliest girl in the world," she hiccuped.

"Hate to break it to you, but I’m afraid Parvati has that title quite easily clenched. You’d be no competition."

She gave another watery grin. "I just couldn’t- couldn’t stand the thought of me loving you and you loving me and being so damn happy while all the while knowing in the very back of my heart that I’d lose you."

"I’m not going anywhere, Ginny."

She searched halfheartedly for a clean spot on her dress robe to blow her nose again, to little success. Harry offered the hem of his robe, but she only laughed wearily and pushed his hand away. "I suppose I’ve ruined your evening."

"Not really. There’s a whole lot of the evening left."

"Just let me go change my robe."

"Okay." He stood up, brushed the dirt off of the front of his dress robe and stuck out a hand to help her up. She smiled wanly at him and accepted his help, and together the two started towards the Common Room.

It was a beautiful night.

~ * ~

Whoever invented dances ought to be dragged out into the street and shot.

"So," said Seamus, finally breaking into the long silence.

"So," said Lavender.

Seamus sighed. "I don’t suppose you want to dance, do you?"

"Not particularly."

Seamus sighed again and leaned back, defeated, in his chair.

Lavender leaned her elbows on the table and propped her chin up on her hands, suppressing a sigh of her own as she let her eyes wander about the Great Hall, keenly aware of Seamus sitting silently beside her.

Not even she could deny that the Great Hall was anything less than beautiful tonight, even if it was an odd sort of beauty that hurt nearly as much as it thrilled her. But there was nothing she could do about it- there was pain in the aura tonight, even amongst the joviality and merriment. She was beginning to wonder if perhaps whether there was any such thing as moment without some sort of pain, and whether the people who said there was were just fooling themselves.

Some Ravenclaw and her boyfriend paused behind their table, whispering to each other as people who are young and fancy themselves in love tend to do. The boy muttered something low and the Ravenclaw gave a girlish giggle- it was a pleasant enough sound but for some reason Lavender found herself shuddering.

"You okay?" Seamus.

"Yeah," she lied. "Guess it’s just somebody walking over the spot that’ll someday be my grave." As soon as she said it, she wished she hadn’t. It only had the effect of making her feel worse.

"Oh." Seamus paused for a moment. "Are you sure you’re okay?"

"Of course I’m okay," she flashed irritably. The Ravenclaw and her boyfriend had headed, hand in hand, out towards the

gardens. Stupid little girl. Giving away her heart like that- a heart!- a heart should be kept under lock and key. Protected by every power you have- didn’t she see? Didn’t the silly girl see how she was only setting herself up to take the fall? All hearts break if you aren’t careful with who you give them to- oh, the silly, stupid little girl.

Seamus was now looking at her in alarm. "Perhaps you ought to go to the Infirmary-"

"I’m fine," she repeated emphatically, following Seamus’s glance down to her slender hands, which were clenching the side of the table, her fingernails digging into the tablecloth. Immediately she released her grip and stood up, knocking a glass over, spilling the water all over her dress robe. But it didn’t matter.

He rose, too, making a clumsy attempt to sop up the water off the front of her dress with the bit of shredded napkin from earlier in the evening. "Where are you going?"

"Maybe I will go to the Infirmary," she answered shrilly, pulling restlessly away. She turned and ran through the crowd of dancers, pushing them out of the way as she kept her eyes focused on her one destination, her one salvation. The door.

"Lavender! Wait!" he called. But it was too late.

She was gone.

~ * ~

She was beautiful. Ron wondered why he hadn’t noticed before.

Okay, he had noticed once or twice before. Usually at odd moments when she was in the middle of odd tasks like chopping ingredients for Potions class or writing a History of Magic Paper in the library. It had never seemed quite the time to tell her- besides, it was probably just the side effect of blurry eyes from too much homework- it was just Hermione, after all. Wasn’t it?

But he couldn’t hold back the sudden, alien thought that perhaps she wasn’t little Hermione, his friend and sometime enemy, that perhaps she was something more and perhaps she had been for a very long time. But if that was true, why did it feel like he had been the very last to know?

"Knut for your thoughts," asked Hermione as the dance ended and they headed towards an empty table.

"I was just thinking how it looked like it was about to rain." He motioned aimlessly towards the enchanted ceiling. "No one seems to mind, though."

"I guess sometimes you can’t let the rain spoil your mood. Or the threat of rain," she grinned. "If you stopped living for every thunderstorm, you’d never get anything done."

"Like homework?"

She grinned. "Yeah. Like homework. Do you want to dance again?"

To his surprise he found that he rather did. Of course, she’d never stop gloating if she ever found out. "If you want to I suppose I’ll have to."

"You don’t have to, you know."

He merely shrugged. "I suppose Krum was a lot better at it than I am."

Hermione sighed and stood up, taking his hand and pulling him back out onto the dance floor. "Would you just forget about Viktor, already? I’m sorry I ever brought it up."

"You sure seemed to like him," he said stoically as she gently pulled his arms up from where they had been firmly planted in his pockets and put them around her waist.

"I did. He’s very nice. But I haven’t seen him for a very long time, Ron."

"Except for every night in your dreams, right?"

She looked as though she might like to make a scathing reply, he grinned to himself as he waited for it. But rather, she merely shook her head resignedly and gave him a wane grin. "If you want to believe that, sure. But if you do, then you’re an idiot. Even more of an idiot than I thought you were in the first place, that is."

"It’s possible for me to go lower in your opinion?" he asked glumly.

Hermione shrugged. "I wouldn’t have thought so. But you’re certainly testing the waters right now."

He sighed. "So if you don’t dream of Vicky, who do you dream of?"

"Somebody," she answered vaguely.

"Harry?"

"Occasionally. But those are never good dreams."

"You have them, too?"

She stared pensively up at the ceiling. "I think that we all do. Mine- mine are always the same. I’ll find myself standing out in the Forbidden Forest. He’ll be by my side, and we’ll be walking deeper into the Forest, even though neither of are able to ignore the stench of evil that permeates the air. We just have to walk deeper, and that’s it. But when we get to a certain spot, he’ll tell me to stay, that he has to go on alone… I don’t like it, not one bit. But I understand- He hugs me and then turns around to leave. He has nearly disappeared into the haze, and every time I fool myself into thinking he’ll perhaps be okay. Then I hear the scream…"

She bit her lip, and closed her eyes; her hands tightly gripping Ron’s shoulders as a drowning man might clutch at a life preserver. When she began again, her voice was distant. "I reach for my wand but it isn’t there. But he is, lying- lying at my feet, that evil monster standing over him, laughing. And then he comes for me… And then I wake up. Drenched in cold sweat and crying my eyes out. It’s always the same."

Unconsciously, Ron tightened his arms around her. "Mine are pretty much the same. Except that…"

"What?" she asked gently.

He could feel himself blushing, but at the same time he understood that it didn’t really matter at all.

"You-Know-Who has captured you. I’m not sure if your alive or dead, and it tears me up. That’s why we’re in the Forest, Harry and I. That’s what we’re dying for."

All was quiet for a moment, the music and the chattering of the other students driven far into the background as they stood together. "I’m scared, Ron."

"Me too."

For another long moment both were silent; at length he caught her eye and attempted a smile.

"This isn’t the same song we started dancing to."

She gave him a wane smile. "Does it matter?"

"I suppose not."

"Good." And before he had any chance to speak again, she stood up on her tiptoes and pulled his head down to hers.

And around them, the dance continued.

~ * ~

He had looked everywhere for her. But she wasn’t in the gardens, or anywhere in the Great Hall, or in the Common Room.

He had even checked the Infirmary, but had gained nothing save a close shave from being quarantined there all night- Madame Pomfrey had been convinced that the pallor of his face and the shortness of his breath were because of some life threatening illness.

Defeated, he made his way back to the Great Hall and settled glumly into his old seat. Perhaps he could find some pretty girl without a date to spend the rest of the evening with.

But he didn’t really want some other girl, did he? He wanted Lavender, even if she had made it quite clear that she didn’t want him anymore. That irritated him. He was Seamus Finnigan after all, it wasn’t like he had to sit around like a wallflower the rest of the evening because some girl had said no. It wasn’t like he ought to care.

Then again, Lavender had never just been ‘some girl.’

"You mind if I sit here?"

Seamus looked up, startled out of his brown study by the timid voice of his friend. "Yes. You’re a moron, Neville. Of course

I don’t mind."

Neville looked rather relieved as he sat down. "Where’s Lavender?"

"Damned if I know," Seamus answered gruffly, downing a glass of water and wishing fervently it was something much stronger.

"Oh." Neville looked uncomfortable.

"Yeah, oh," said Seamus irritably.

Both were silent for a moment, listening to the soft strands of music and watching the many swaying couples out on the floor. Dean and Parvati, both of whom must have had dumped their original dates early in the evening, sashayed in front of them; Dean spinning Parvati into a flashy dip and sending Seamus a roguish grin before they disappeared back into the crowd of dancers.

Neville sighed.

"The matter?" asked Seamus, more for something to say than out of any real interest.

Neville turned a bit pink, obviously unaware that his sigh had been audible. "It’s just… oh, never mind." He paused a moment longer before breaking out quite suddenly, "Seamus?"

"Yeah, Neville?"

"Have you ever wondered… wondered what it would be like if, say, you died tomorrow."

"Pity it’d be," Seamus mused morosely. "I wouldn’t get a chance to see how sorely I’d be missed."

"Would you be sorely missed?"

Seamus stared at his friend, who in turn was staring glumly and Ron and Hermione, dancing just a bit too close to just be friends, especially considering it was the middle of a fast song.

"What d’you mean by that?"

"I’m just wondering," Neville started slowly. "I’m not Harry Potter and I’m not Dumbledore and I’m not a famous Auror. If any of those guys… y’know, died… tomorrow, they’d leave a lot of people missing them behind. A legacy, you know." His voice began to pick up speed and he spoke with a passion that Seamus had never even been aware that he had. "People would remember them. Would anyone remember me? I don’t even have… there’s a lot of things I want to do before I die.

But not everybody has a chance to do everything they’d like to, do they? Anything they’d like to."

"No, I suppose they don’t."

He gazed wistfully at Ron. "Guys like Ron don’t realise how lucky they are. They may not leave some lasting legacy on the face of the earth but… at least they had a chance. At least they know that someone will miss them… y’know what I mean?"

"Yeah, I think I do."

Neville sighed, even then returning back to his deceptively timid facade. "Where- where are you going?"

Seamus hadn’t even been aware that he had stood up, but now it seemed to him that he could do nothing else.

"A guy would have to be crazy to let his chances slip through his fingers, wouldn’t he? Thanks, Neville."

"No problem," answered Neville, looking rather dazed as he watched Seamus set a quick stride across the Great Hall and out of sight.

Seamus knew what he had to do, but there was one thing he needed to do first.

"Hey, Lisa."

The pretty Ravenclaw standing by herself at the edge of the dance floor looked at him suspiciously. "Yeah?"

He felt suddenly shy. "I bet if you asked Neville to dance he’d accept you readily."

She flushed and turned away without another word, but Seamus was pleased to note that she had started a slow drift over towards the solitary figure of his friend.

With that done, he went to find Lavender.

After all, he’d be crazy to let a chance like her slip through his fingers.

~ * ~

"I feel like a bandit," Ginny giggled as she and Harry entered the Common Room. "Like Professor Snape will jump out behind a corner and sentence us to detention for the rest of our lives."

Harry grinned. "I’ll wait here for you while you change your robe. Keeping a look out for errant Slytherins, you know."

"Okay." She disappeared up the stairway and Harry settled himself by the fire, which was crackling merrily despite the lack of students in the room. He felt more comfortable here than he had downstairs; dances had always made him a bit queasy, even with someone like Ginny at his side.

Especially with someone like Ginny at his side.

Presently he heard her on the stairs again. He stood up, letting his eyes rove appreciatively over her, quite pretty in even the old school robes that she had changed into.

"Better?"

She flushed. "Almost. I can’t quite reach the back button… usually I have someone to do it for me. Would you mind?"

"Terribly."

She gathered her hair into a low knot and let him do the button, then turned back to him with a smile. "Better now. Although I’m terrified about what will happen if mum finds out about the dress."

"It’ll be fine," he assured her.

"I hope so. D’you want to go back down to the dance?"

"D’you want to?"

Ginny had already started out the portrait hole, but at his words turned around and looked at him quite seriously. "Not really. But what else could we do?"

Harry looked about feebly. "Chess?"

She shrugged and grinned. "Sounds better than facing that mess again. Don’t tell Ron, but I do think this dance was a rather stupid idea."

"I’ll keep I quiet," he said, carefully setting out the pieces and taking the seat Ginny had saved for him next to her on the couch. "It’ll be harder to play that way."

"Do you mind?"

He grinned. "Not really."

For a long moment both were quiet, both concentrating on the game in front of them.

"Ginny?" he asked finally, breaking into the comfortable silence.

She was studying her options on the board intently. "Mm-hmm?"

For some reason he found himself a bit hesitant, but he had to ask. "D’you mind if I ask you a question?"

"Of course not."

"Well, I was just wondering about something you said earlier-"

She looked up at him, startled. "I’ve said a lot of things in my life, Harry. Most of it was complete rubbish."

"You said… you couldn’t stand the thought of losing me."

She busied herself with her move. "Yeah."

"I’m not going anywhere, you know, if that’s…"

"That’s not it." She sighed and moved her piece. "Checkmate. It’s just that- well, you know. You never know what a day can bring, do you?"

"No." His face was clouded, unreadable. Ginny sighed.

"But you know, I don’t really want to think about tomorrow. I’m here tonight and your here tonight and I’ve just beaten you in chess… that’s what I want to concentrate on."

"But what will happen, once tomorrow comes?"

"Can’t we just deal with it then?" she pleaded.

"But it does always come."

She sighed and leaned her head on his shoulder. "Yes it does. But it doesn’t do us any good to worry about it tonight. So please don’t."

Echoing her sigh, he leaned his chin on her head. "I can’t help it."

"I know. Neither can I."

They were silent for another long moment. This time it was Ginny who broke into the quiet. "Well. Do you want another game of chess?"

"So you can beat me again?"

She shrugged and began setting out the pieces. "If the occasion calls for it."

"I suppose that was a challenge?"

"I suppose it was."

Tomorrow would come. But all that mattered now was tonight.

~ * ~

The Owlery. It was funny how the one place that he didn't think to look was the place that she would be, but wasn't that the way that it always was?

"Lavender?"

"You're missing the ball," she said, back turned to him as she stared out the open window.

"It's pretty dumb to be at a ball," he replied, "when you don't have a partner."

"This isn't the best place to try to look for one. Maybe Crabbe's got a dance free."

"I don't want to go with Crabbe." He took her by the shoulders and gently turned her around. Her eyes were red and her eye makeup was running down her cheeks. "I want to go with you."

"You don't always get what you want in life, Seamus. I should think that much would be obvious by now."

Both were silent for a moment.

"What do you want?" something prompted him to ask, his voice low and urgent.

Lavender sighed and bit her lip. "If I knew I'd tell you," she said bitterly. "What I want is... I want the life that my parents had. I never asked to be a witch, you know. What I want is picket fences and Sunday drives out into the country and picnics on sunny summer days... the way it is right now, it doesn't seem that the sun is ever going to shine again. Maybe if it did, things would be different. But they aren't. What I want is for you not to love me and me not to love you and for us to pretend we never even knew each other."

"I'm not letting that happen."

She took his hand pleadingly. "But it's better that way, don't you see?"

"No. I don't see at all. Just give me a chance, please, and I'll make you see..."

"Not all chances work out. Sometimes you only end up losing more than you did before."

"But what's the point? What's the point of being alive, if you don't take that risk? It's what living is about... Lavender... isn't it worth it?"

"Not always. Good-bye, Seamus."

"No! Not good-bye. Lavender, please..."

She bit into her lip harder and stared down at the floor, slowly trying to move past him and out the door. He made a grab for her arm and she looked up, running her icy hand down his cheek and leaning towards him as if to kiss him- but at the last moment she pulled away and out of his hold, out the door and down into the darkness of the stairway.

And he was truly alone.

~ * ~

Ron pulled away from Hermione, eyes wide and ears pink. "What- what-?"

"Did you mind?"

He thought for a moment, and then grinned. "Not at all."

She grinned back and they stood foolishly in the middle of the dance floor for a moment, blushing and smiling at each other, oblivious to everything else around them. Presently Hermione looked up at the ceiling. "It looks likes it's started to storm out there."

He followed her gaze upwards. "I'm not afraid of a little rain, are you?"

"Not tonight, I'm not."

Ron gave her another grin and pulled her back into the dance.

-- from the album 'Hard Rain Don't Last' by Derryl Worley