Disclaimer: You know the drill.

A/N: I've updated this chapter again and slightly extended the last bit. Harry's ruminations on the party I've saved for the next chapter. To my faithful reviewers, this story will continue on regardless of the happenings in book 6. I actually have the whole thing more or less plotted out.

Chapter 13: Surprises

Harry's plan for a surprise had started out with a very simple idea: a small dinner party for Ginny and her old friends from Hogwarts. Since he had no notion about hosting such an event, he had turned to Hermione for help. She had jumped on the idea and quickly enlisted the aid of Mrs. Weasley and Fleur. The small dinner party quickly ballooned into formal event complete with a seven-course meal, ball, and well over a hundred guests. The Weasleys, it seemed, were ready to celebrate.

The sheer scale of the event had removed some of the surprise. Even with her new schedule of classes, Ginny could hardly ignore the parade of caterers and decorators taking over the castle's ballroom, main dinning hall, and kitchens. It was Ron who had come up with the cover story, "Just tell her that Dad was asked to host the annual Ministry of Magic Autumn Festival."

Hermione, Mrs. Weasley, and Fleur had truly outdone themselves. They had organized the event with military precision, and the whole affair had come together at the speed of Harry's Firebolt 3000. Even though Harry had conceived of the idea the second week of October, the event was planned to correspond with Bonfire Night. Mrs. Weasley had pushed for Halloween, but Hermione had put her foot down as the traditional Hogwarts' Halloween celebration would preclude a portion of her guest list from attending.

Harry was currently standing in front of his bedroom mirror attempting to make sense out of his bowtie. "How does that look?" he asked after his third attempt.

"It's still crooked," his mirror replied in a haughty tone. Harry's mirror was a relict dating back to the original owner of Floogle Castle. It had a cantankerous personality and disapproved of Harry in general. "In my day," the mirror continued on when Harry didn't reply immediately, "A gentleman wore a proper ruff or a lovely flowing cravat. Not that I would expect any such thing from you."

Without regard to the mirror's comments, Harry pulled at his tie until it was reasonably straight. Ron had suggested on many occasions that Harry toss the belligerent mirror out the window. Aside from being afraid of the very real curses that arose from breaking a magical mirror, Harry was strangely fond of it. He had even named it Sir Shiny, a name the mirror abhorred.

With a finally glance at his reflection; Harry shrugged into his dress robes. They were an attractive shade of bottle green rather similar to the first set of dress robes he had ever owned. "Your hair is still untidy," Sir Shiny called after Harry's retreating back, "I would suggest a handsome powdered wig, but such fashion would be lost on the likes of you."

In the hall outside his room, Harry almost literally ran into Ron and Hermione. Ron as usual favored simple and elegant charcoal gray dress robes. Hermione was wearing robes of deep rose, but she seemed to be concerned about the way the robes hung on her pregnant body. She kept pulling the material first one way than another. Harry thought she looked beautiful and told her so.

"Thank you," she said. Her eyes were shimmering with unshed hormonally induced tears.

"I've told her that about a dozen times," Ron whispered out of the corner of his mouth to Harry, "And each time she nearly took my head off."

Hermione chose ignored her husband's comment. "Everyone is in place," she said, "Harry, go and bring Ginny downstairs. Ron and I will quiet everyone down and cast the mirage spell."

Harry nodded dutifully and head off to fetch Ginny. Her room was along the south side of the castle, two floors above Harry's. If Harry remembered correctly, rooms along this hall had wonderful views of the garden. He felt another twinge of guilt over his poor quality landscaping.

Harry had his hand raised ready to knock when he suddenly paused. Looking either way down the hallway, he spotted just what he needed. He strode down and quickly glanced up into another mirror. Sir Shiny had been right. His hair was untidy. He quickly tried to smooth out the more stubborn bits.

"My, my," said the mirror with the voice of a kindly old lady, "Don't you look handsome?" Harry groaned inwardly. He remembered this mirror. He had walked by it a few days after the bludger accident that ended his professional Quidditch career. The mirror had cooed the very same compliment to him even though half his face was swollen and the color of an over-ripened banana.

Harry nearly vaulted through the ceiling when a redhead appeared over his shoulder at the same time a voice said laughingly, "I'm starting to worry about you Harry. You're turning into Gilderoy Lockhart. First writing memoirs, and now admiring yourself in hallway mirrors."

"Ginny!" he squeaked wheeling around quickly.

"My, my," the mirror cooed catching sight of Ginny, "Aren't you the loveliest witch?" Harry couldn't fault the mirror with this assessment. Ginny looked stunning in simply cut robes of subtle blues and purples that seemed to dance as she moved. Her bright auburn locks were curled and had crystals nestled among them. Her eyelids were dusted with shimmering hues to match her robes, and her mouth was perfectly accented by a light pink gloss. The over all effect was startlingly exotic. Harry found breathing suddenly very difficult at the same time that his heart began racing in his chest.

Ginny seemed oblivious to the effect she was having on him. "You're tie is crooked," she murmured. Her small hands reached up to undo it. "Lift your chin," she ordered. Harry tried to focus on his breathing as he felt the gentle tugging of his tie on his neck and the occasional almost electrical shock as her fingers accidentally grazed the underside of his chin. "There," she said finally while forcibly turning him to face the mirror, "How does that look?"

"Fine," Harry murmured, "I can never seem to get it right."

"Mum says that men are helpless when it comes to dressing themselves," Ginny commented absently. "You need to get yourself a wife."

"You're getting married?" the mirror spouted, "Don't you make a handsome couple?"

Harry froze, but Ginny merely laughed and tugged on his arm. "Come on," she beckoned, "That mirror is cracked."

As Harry allowed Ginny to lead him away, he heard the mirror say, "I'm cracked. Isn't that lovely?"

"Have any of the guests arrived?" Ginny asked as they rounded the corner that led to the main staircase.

"No," Harry lied, "Hermione wants us to gather in the entrance hall to greet them as they appear." Actually, all of the guests had arrived over half-an-hour ago and were waiting patiently in the entrance hall. Hermione would have by now cast a spell that made the gigantic room appear empty.

Ginny chattered along merrily about the party and who might be there, but Harry's doubts grew with every step he and Ginny descended. Would the party too much for Ginny? Was she more fragile than he realized? Should he have forced Hermione to keep the guest list down to just close personal friends?

With his thoughts swirling ever faster, Harry abruptly stopped before the turn that would lead them to the last flight of stairs and into the view of the entrance hall. "Ginny," he blurted, "If you don't want to attend or want to leave early, everyone will understand."

Ginny's brow crinkled with concern, not for herself but for Harry. "It's just a bunch of ministry fuddy-duddies. They won't pay one stitch of attention to me."

Harry laughed nervously, plastered a large grin on his face, and turned the corner. As soon as he and Ginny descended the first step, Hermione's mirage spell was broken. The entrance hall suddenly filled with people, and a large roar of "SURPRISE" reached the rafters.

Ginny turned a shade of alabaster and wobbled slightly. Harry instinctively tightened his grip on her arm. A rousing chorus of "She's a Jolly Good Fellow" rose from the smiling and cheering crowd, and from somewhere in the back of the room, a package of wizarding fireworks was ignited. "I don't understand," Ginny gasped.

"It's a party," Harry explained softly, "for you."

Ginny's eyes widened as she glanced back and forth between Harry and the rest of the room. Soon her eyes became focused on a witch and two wizards that were making their way up the stairs towards her. "Luna," Ginny cried, "Colin…Denis." Ginny turned her now tearful eyes once more toward Harry before racing down the steps to embrace her old friends. Soon she was swept away into the crowd of partygoers and well-wishers.

Harry had seen the massive guest list Hermione had manufactured, but the reality of all those names hadn't struck him until he was looking down on an entrance hall crammed with people. As he gazed around at the crowd, distinct groups of people began to appear. There were the red-headed extensions of the Weasley family, several years worth of Hogwarts students and half of the current Hogwarts staff, ministry officials from the Muggle Relations and the Games and Sports departments where Mr. Weasley and Ron worked, most of the Chudley Cannon Quidditch team from the years Harry played, the battle scarred remnants of the Order of the Phoenix, a brash group of dragon handlers, a veritable baby-boom of wizarding children, and even a group of rather uncomfortable looking Gringotts' goblins.

Lee Jordan hailed Harry over to where he and the twins were standing. As he descended the last of the stairs, he lost track of Ginny's progress through the room. In fact, in the crush of people he didn't see Ginny until she sat down next to him at the feast.

"Oh Harry," she breathed excitedly, "This is just wonderful. There are so many familiar faces, and everyone has been too kind."

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself," Harry murmured.

"I can't believe how much people have changed yet remain exactly the same," she continued on in rushed tones, "Luna is married! Can you believe that? He's an American by the name of Lance Hearst. He seems very nice, although I think that he's a bit vague. Luna turned over the Quibbler to Colin Creevy, and now she and her husband devote their time to searching the globe for magical creatures. Apparently, they've written several books documenting their finds. Luna said that a few have appeared on the bestseller's list. I thought that a bit strange, but then Colin whispered to me that the books were on the fiction list. Meanwhile, Colin tells me that he's trying to turn the Quibbler around. He thinks that in a few years it will be a real rival for the Prophet."

When Ginny finally paused, Harry had to stifle the desire to clap. Like her young nephews, the girl had the amazing ability to relate volumes of information into a single breath. Of course Ginny's news was not news to Harry, but he liked to hear her tell it. Her eyes and smile were charmingly animated.

The appearance of delectably filled silver dishes put a halt to further conversation as Ginny became preoccupied with the meal. One thing Harry had always admired about Ginny was that she didn't pick at her food in the bird-like manor that other women seemed to employ. No, she ate with an enthusiasm that rivaled Ron's. Harry would have dug in with the same gusto but was too preoccupied with thoughts of the after dinner entertainment. It was only aspect of festivities that he had overseen personally.

The Chocolate Frogs were the latest musical phenomenon in the wizarding world. Harry had to use every ounce of his fame and reputation to book the band. They had surpassed the always-popular Weird Sisters a few years ago in the charts. This was due in part to their younger and more handsome appearance, but it could be mostly explained by the Weird Sisters self-proclaimed retirement. The Sisters, it seemed, had finally grown tired of making music and were now developing their passion for whiskey into a rather successful distillery.

Harry's nerves grew as the meal drew towards an end. He was worried Ginny wouldn't care for a band that had come into existence six years after her disappearance, until it occurred to him that music would spawn dancing. He dropped his fork as any semblance of appetite left him in a rush. Much to the disgust of every girlfriend he had ever had, Harry had never acquired the ability to move on the dance floor with anything that could be called style or rhythm. In fact, he tended to resemble a drunken garden gnome when he attempted even a few simple steps. He chanced a panicked glance at Ginny. Would she want to dance with him? As nerve-racking as that possibility seemed, Harry found himself hoping for that very thing. He tried desperately to remember what Mrs. Weasley had taught him before Ron and Hermione's wedding.

As the silver platters of puddings began disappearing from the tables, guests began rising and stretching their legs in a vain attempt to work off some of their dinner. Harry rose nervously as Ginny did and offered her his arm.

"What next?" she asked excitedly as he led her out of the dinning room. Her eyes were shining up at him, and he swallowed convulsively. In doing so, he accidentally swallowed down the wrong tube and as a result burst into a fit of coughing. Ginny thumped him hard on the back.

Harry regained his composure just in time to realize that they had just entered the ballroom. Another rush of nerves overtook him, and it seemed like his stomach was trying to throttle his windpipe. He released a strangled little gurgle.

"Are you all right?" Ginny asked, "You don't look at all well. Maybe it was something you ate?" She looked around with concern at the stream of guests now pouring into the room around them, examining them all for signs of illness.

"No…I'm…I'm fine," Harry managed. He could hear this sound of the band tuning their instruments over the excited murmurings of the crowd. He pulled at his collar and tried to channel his famous bravery. Defeating dark wizards was one thing, but girls were something all together more frightening. "Listen Ginny," he uttered, "I was wondering if…I mean…whether…only if you want to…"

"Ahhh," a voice interrupted, "There's my girl. I believe your first dance is mine." Harry drew his attention from Ginny to see a beaming Mr. Weasley standing expectantly in front of him. Harry felt a moment of both great relief and bitter disappointment as he watched Ginny's father lead her away.

Harry drew himself over towards the side of the room where he could observe the dance floor. He had just situated himself alongside a bust of Floogle Castle's fifth owner, Elizabeth Rivenwood, when the music began in earnest. He watched as Ginny and her father whirled gracefully around. As soon as the song was finished, Harry made to pull away from the wall and intercept Ginny, but Bill was faster. Again disappointed, Harry sunk back against the wall. Later, he tried to catch Ginny's eye as she jitterbugged past with Fred to let her know to find him when she was finished with her brothers, but he couldn't be sure he had gotten her attention.

After she had danced with each of her brothers in turn, Ginny waltzed once more with her father before being swept off by Lee Jordan. Harry pushed off from his spot near the bust and began prowling the room. A dance with Colin Creevey followed her dance with Lee. After Colin was Denis, after Denis was Dean Thomas, and after Dean was Luna's husband Lance. As the night wore on and Ginny's partners changed with alarming frequency, Harry found his left eye was twitching angrily as he pointed followed her progress on the dance floor.

"Why are you rampaging about like an angry hippogriff?" demanded a voice coming from the witch blocking his path.

Harry glared down angrily only to alter his expression the moment he realized the question had come from Hermione. "What?" he asked stupidly.

"You heard me," she said. "You've be stomping around the room all night."

"I'm not stomping," Harry offered as a pitiful defense. "I'm just stretching my legs a bit."

"Why don't you try dancing?" Hermione suggested with a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

"Dancing." Harry was annoyed to find his voice cracked.

"Yes," Hermione responded, "that is why we have a band here."

Harry glanced around to see that Ginny was fox-trotting and talking animatedly with Professor Dumbledore. "Ginny's busy," he muttered.

A bewildering twinkle appeared instantly in Hermione's eyes. "Well you could ask some other lady to dance."

Harry shot Hermione a confused glance. "You want to dance with me?" he asked bluntly.

Hermione rolled her eyes so sharply it was a wonder that she couldn't see through the top of her skull. "Harry I can barely walk," she uttered.

"Well then," Harry said sharply, "I'm going to continue stomping." Lee Jordan making his way towards where Ginny and Dumbledore danced drew his attention away. Hermione released an exasperated sigh before wondering away to join Ron on a nearby bench.

Harry continued his progress around the room until he happened by a large gilded mirror. Dashing a quickly look around to insure no one was looking, Harry drew himself over towards the wall on which it hung. He carefully examined his appearance. Years ago, Harry had traded in his characteristic round glasses for a higher quality and more mature oblong, silver fames. His eyes, which of all his features he could be vain about, still looked as emerald green as ever. The scar on his forehead had faded in prominence but remained stubbornly visible. His hair was untidy at best, but it gave him an overall windswept look. His body had retained the lean, muscular build of a professional athlete. Why doesn't Ginny want to dance with me? Harry thought, I'm an okay looking bloke. He pulled on his tie, which had managed to arrange itself crookedly again.

"Professor Lockhart," a mocking voice said from behind him, "It's so nice to know that you've finally been released from St. Mungo's."

Harry whirled around to find Ginny standing right behind him. Her eyes were alight with laughter, and her face flushed from dancing. Harry found his own face becoming warmer and no doubt redder.

"Your tie is crooked again," she said with a sigh reaching her hands up to straighten the garment once again. "There," she whispered. She patted him gently on the chest before raising her gaze to his.

Harry found himself transfixed by the specks of gold that danced in her eyes. "Would you like to dance?" he blurted suddenly.

A smile spread magically across her lips. "I'd love to," she replied and offered her arm to him.

As Harry lead Ginny into the very center of the dance floor, he couldn't hide the triumphant grin from his face. He hesitated though when they turned to face each other. "I'm not a very good dancer," he admitted to her in hushed tones.

"Pfft," she replied off-handedly guiding one of his hands to the small of her back and clasping the other one. "Who cares? Just follow my lead."

The song that was planning had sort of mellow swing beat, and the lyrics spoke of moon dancing. Ginny, like the rest of the Weasley family, was a superb dancer. For the first time in his entire life, Harry thought he might have gotten this dancing bit down right. Not once did he feel the least like a drunken gnome, and as one song blended seamlessly into another, he thought he could go on like this forever.

"This band is rather good," Ginny commented as they swung close by the stage.

"I'm glad you like them," Harry murmured unable to hide his self-congratulatory grin.

"There's something different about them," Ginny continued, "I can't quite put my finger on it."

"Oh," Harry remarked offhandedly, "The bass player is a Muggle."

"Really," Ginny sighed. She manipulated the next turn of their dance so that she could peer over Harry's shoulder at the band. "I wonder how she got involved in a wizarding band."

"I think the lead singer is her cousin or something," Harry remarked. "It was a huge controversy a few years back when the band first started playing on the wireless, but the harshest criticism has died down. I'm not very into music, but if I had to pick a favorite, the Chocolate Frogs would be it. Maybe it's because they cover a lot of Muggle standards."

Ginny gave a thoughtful nod and a little "hmmm" in reply. They became engrossed again in the movement of the dance. Harry was struck for the second time how effortless the task of dancing seemed when partnered with Ginny. He had even managed the dreaded small talk that most girls seemed to deem necessary.

"Is that Michael Corner dancing with Cho Chang?" Ginny asked.

Harry felt his jaw clench involuntarily as he followed her gaze over towards a couple dancing not very far away. "Yeah," Harry muttered. "They got married not long out of Hogwarts."

Ginny seemed to find this very funny. She muffled her laughter, but her eyes glowed with merriment. Harry was suddenly at a loss to remember why he even cared about the other couple. "My first boyfriend married your first girlfriend," she said coyly, "what do you suppose that means?"

Harry had a witty reply on his tongue, but was interrupted by a tap on his shoulder. He turned angrily towards the intruder only to find himself looking into Ron's smiling face. "Hey mate," Ron said brightly, "You're hogging the guest of honor."

Harry looked around embarrassedly. How many songs had he and Ginny danced through? Harry gulped inwardly as he searched his memory for some etiquette lesson he had undoubtedly sat through years ago. How many times could a gentleman dance with a lady before it raised eyebrows?

"Mind if I cut in, mate?" Ron asked tentatively. He seemed to be confused by Harry's strange expression.

"Go ahead," Harry said quickly. He thanked Ginny for the dance and made his way off the floor. Automatically, he headed towards where Hermione was now seated, but something about her gratified, smug look turned Harry in the opposite direction. The last thing Harry needed was Hermione's innuendos about his behavior towards Ginny, so he decided that his time would be better spent catching up with his old Quidditch teammates.