Harry Potter and The 7th Year Proposal

Chapter 17 - Elysium

Elysium

Harry was almost disappointed as he snatched the Snitch out of midair without the Ravenclaw Seeker anywhere near him. The game had only been going for five minutes, and now it was over. Of course, the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs howled and cheered and roared with victory. Harry landed his Speed Demon and lightly hopped off. Ginny was the first to get to him, nearly tackling him to the ground. He returned her fierce kiss with just as much intensity. It was a shame to have to pull away so quickly as others came up to congratulate him.

The Gryffindor team was carried upon the shoulders of their fellow housemates, all the way back up to the castle. A huge, silver, gleaming cup was thrust into Harry's hands. He shoved the House Cup in the air to the deafening applause from the crowd.

They carried him and his teammates all the way into the Gryffindor common room, where there was music blasting and Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes were flying around everywhere. Someone had snuck in a crate full of Butterbeer and Firewhiskey. Harry gladly took one and toasted his team, his arm always draped around Ginny's waist, as he followed her wherever she wandered to.

Harry fell asleep that night in one of the crimson armchairs by the fire, Ginny in his lap, and a smile on his face.

The next morning, Harry took his N.E.W.T.s.

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Transfiguration was a killer. Try as he might, he couldn't transform Ron completely. He had to settle for a red Quaffle ball that still had Ron's long nose and a few strands of ginger hair sticking out of the top. He wasn't sure how much off he'd get for that, but he honestly didn't care as much as he should have.

His next exam was Defense Against the Dark Arts, which he knew he passed with extra points from the impressed look upon the gray-haired instructor's face. "You will do fine, Mr. Potter," the old man had said in his dry voice.

That afternoon, Harry sat through an entire hour staring at parchment after parchment of his History of Magic exam. He wrote down answers like Rupert the Terrible and Gregor the Insane, and had quite a lot of fun as he wrote his essay, letting his imagination wander, making up grand battles off the top of his head.

That night, Hermione quizzed Harry, Ginny, and Ron on various spells for Charms and difficult brewing ingredient for Potions and assorted deadly plants and their uses for Herbology. Harry gave up around midnight and kissed Ginny goodnight before he thudded up the stairs to hopefully get a good night's sleep.

The next morning, Harry brewed a potion for reducing a fever and healing wounds from venomous creatures. Professor Slughorn praised Harry's work, but it seem the examiner had other ideas as he looked upon Harry's smoking cauldron.

The four of them trudged out to the greenhouses after their Potions exam and stared stupidly at pots and pots of plants, hoping to match the right plant with the right name on the sheet of paper in front of them. Harry was positive he got the Mandrake and Venian plants right, but the other forty-eight names seemed to have slipped his mind. He hoped his–not so educated–guessing would be good enough to at least pass the class.

And finally, after lunch that afternoon, Harry walked into the Charms room to take his final exam. Professor Flitwick greeted him cheerfully, but Harry could hardly return the chipper mood; he was ready to get out of there. He remembered all but one of the stupid spells he was supposed to recite. The examiner congratulated him on a job well done and wished him luck.

Harry didn't breath a sigh of relief until he was out of the room, down the corridors, and into the fresh, early summer air. He breathed it in greedily, letting the bright sunshine wash over him. A tremendous feeling of relief and freedom coursed through his veins. And Ginny was there with him, sliding her fingers through his. He laughed, feeling light and content as he wrapped her in his arms and swung her around and around, the endless blue sky glistening in their presence, open and free.

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The doors had always been open for Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, the Chosen One, defeater of You-Know-Who; but now, with Hogwarts behind him, he boldly stepped over the threshold of his old life, into an extensive, open, bright abyss. With him, he pulled through a few best friends and one irrevocably charming red head that just so happened to be wearing his ring on her finger, and his heart in her chest.

In the chaos and brilliance of all that was around him, Harry pulled Ginny into his arms, kissing her with a fierce desperation to never let go. She returned the gesture with just as much bravo. Grinning, Harry swung her up into his arms and fearlessly stepped across that welcoming threshold of real life, into their own, brilliant elysium.

And of course, all was well.