Together (A Harry Potter love story) 3

22

MILLIES POV

Madam Pomfrey insisted on keeping Harry and I in the hospital wing for the rest of the weekend. We didn't argue or complain, but Harry wouldn't let her throw away the shattered remains of his Nimbus Two Thousand.

We had a stream of visitors; Hagrid sent us a bunch of earwiggy Fowler's each that looked look yellow cabbages, and Lyra turned up with a get well soon card, which I thanked her gratefully for. The Gryffindor team visited again on Sunday morning, this time accompanied by Oliver, who told Harry, in a hollow, dead sort of voice, that he didn't blame him in the slightest. Ron and Mione only left our bedsides at night, and when they did, I would make sure Madam Pomfrey had turned in for the night before sneaking over to Harry's bed for company.

One evening, Ron and Mione came to visit with some exciting news. Hogwarts would be having a New Year's Eve party in the Great Hall, third-years and above. Of course, all the boring rules applied, such as 'no alcohol', but I'm sure Fred and George would be able to get around that.

"The party starts at seven o'clock," Mione said to me, while the boys were having a deep conversation about Quidditch. "Have you got a dress?"

"I think so," I said. "I packed a few this year just in case."

Mione and I squealed in excitement, making both boys look at us.

"How are you not excited?" I asked, bouncing up and down on the end of Harry's bed.

Ron grimaced. "Because I'll have to dance-"

"It's a party, Ronald, not a ball," Mione said, rolling her eyes.

Harry was watching me with his eyebrows furrowed. "What are you going to wear, Mills?"

I shrugged. "I'll think about it-"

"Out now!" Madam Pomfrey called, running over and waving Ron and Mione out. "It's getting late, they need rest."

But five minutes later, I found myself tiptoeing back to Harry's bed anyway. I sat facing him, talking animatedly, while he listened with a smile on his lips.

"Should we practice?" he said suddenly, rubbing the back of his neck.

I furrowed my eyebrows. "Practice what?"

The corner of Harry's mouth pulled up into a smirk. He jerked his chin towards the middle of the room, standing up and beckoning me to follow him. I complied immediately, an easy smile on my face as I followed him to the centre of the hospital wing floor. As soon as I was in arms reach, Harry clasped my wrist.

"Dance with me."

I blinked in surprise, my breath hitching in my throat as my heart picked up pace. Harry gently pulled me into him using the grip he had on my wrist, his arms slowly snaking around my waist. I was so close to him once again that it gave me the opportunity to gaze right up at his eyes; the colour that was once an emerald shade was now an almost greeny-blue in the darkness.

My stomach seemed to be churning madly now, the butterflies exploding insanely. My knees felt like jelly. This was all from the look Harry was giving me. He wasn't looking at me the way he usually did, flirty and playful. He was looking at me the way all girls wanted to be looked at.

His lips curled up into a small smile. "May I have this dance?" He lifted one hand up and held it out to me.

"There's no music," I said, raising an eyebrow smugly.

He shrugged. "I don't care. Do you?"

I smiled. "No."

I slipped my hand into my boyfriend's, our fingers weaving together. I got that amazing feeling I did every time I touched him, as though all my senses were lighting up, every inch of me on fire.