"Hey, Harry, want to sneak out of Hogwarts with me tonight for a few hours? It's the weekend tomorrow, so it should be fine, right?" Ginny had asked casually.
Her suggestion had caught Harry off guard. She hadn't mentioned where they'd be going, only given him a time, an empty classroom as their meeting spot and a request to wear Muggle clothing. A small part of him was just relieved she'd asked him instead of Dean to be her companion for this mysterious little adventure. Maybe that was why he hadn't hesitated too much before agreeing.
When they met, Harry was dressed in jeans and an old T-shirt, but Ginny's appearance momentarily stole his breath. She wore a white, flowing summer dress and atop her head rested a delicate flower crown.
She looked radiant, her usual vibrant energy softened by the ethereal outfit.
Under Harry's Invisibility Cloak, they made their way out to the castle. Ginny walked ahead of him, her head just inches from his nose. The scent of rain and lavender enveloped him - a smell he found calming, mixed with the scent of her flower crown. He also was acutely aware of their proximity. Each time her back brushed against his chest, a shiver ran through him.
Ginny still hadn't revealed where they were going when they arrived at the Whomping Willow.
Harry's mind flashed back to crashing of Arthur Weasley's Flying Ford Anglia into that very tree at the start of the school year - it all seemed so distant now. A sudden pang hit him as he remembered that Hermione was still alive back then.
As if sensing his thoughts, Ginny turned under the Invisibility Cloak to face him. Their faces were mere inches apart and he could feel her breath on his skin. In that instant, every other thought melted away, leaving him mesmerized by her bright brown eyes, cute nose and overall beauty.
"Don't worry, Harry. There's a trick to immobilize the tree. Just watch," she whispered. For a moment, it was hard for him to focus on her words, but soon they registered clearly. She was reassuring him, knowing all too well how the tree had attacked him before. Unaware of the effect her presence, her scent and those beautiful eyes had on his already scrambled mind.
Turning back to the tree, Ginny whispered, "Wingardium Leviosa," and a small pebble floated up, directed towards a knot at the base of the Whomping Willow.
As soon as the pebble touched the knot, the tree's normally aggressive branches went limp, exactly as Ginny had promised.
They crawled through a gap in the roots and slid down an earthy slope into a very low tunnel. Once they reached the bottom, they removed the Invisibility Cloak and Ginny finally decided it was time to tell him what they were doing there.
"We're going to a Beltane celebration near Hogsmeade! This tunnel leads to the Shrieking Shack and from there we can reach the meeting point," she announced with infectious enthusiasm. Then, she turned away, rummaging through her small handbag, leaving Harry in a state of bemused curiosity.
Beltane? The word was completely foreign to him.
"Ginny," he started, his voice laced with caution, knowing he was about to reveal yet another gap in his knowledge of the magical world. "What exactly is Beltane?" he inquired.
"Oh, I forgot, of course, you wouldn't know about this," she replied, now facing him and holding up two vials of shimmering green potion. "Beltane and Samhain are historically the main magical festivals, stemming from ancient Celtic Druid practices. Beltane is celebrated the night before May first and Samhain is the eve of November first..." she began to explain, but Harry, his curiosity piqued, cut her off.
"Wait, Samhain is Halloween?"
"Hallowe'en is the Muggle's All Hallows' Eve. They observed magical folk gathering and celebrating, leading to the creation of this religious day to ward off evil - which is what witches and wizards were thought to be by the Christian church. Similarly, they created Walpurgis Night from Saint Walpurga's Eve for Beltane celebrations they witnessed." Ginny's explanation was delivered with a knowledgeable grace that Harry found both enlightening and charming.
This kind of history, devoid of the usual tales of Goblin rebellions, fascinated him.
"But... why do we celebrate Halloween at Hogwarts then?"
"It has a lot to do with Grindelwald's war... but in short, it's a political decision. Dumbledore changed it when he became headmaster. I can tell you more later, but first, drink this," she said, handing him one of the green potions. "This is an Ageing Potion."
"We need a bit of a disguise," Ginny explained, holding up the vials. "That's why I prepared these potions. I'll also transfigure your clothes - that's why they needed to be Muggle ones - and hide your scar. Oh, and let's change your hair colour while we're at it. What do you think about being blond for a day?"
"Blond... what do you mean?"
"Crinus Muto," she said, pointing her wand at him. A flash of white light enveloped him.
"What…" Harry started to object, but Ginny only smirked at him, eyes glinting with mischief. In that moment, he could clearly see the family resemblance to Fred and George.
"Multicorfors," she chanted next and a burst of red light struck him. At this point, Harry resigned himself to the situation. He knew Ginny would never do anything to harm him and his trust in her was absolute.
His clothes transformed into white linen garments, reminiscent of Ginny's own ethereal dress.
"You better hold on to your pants," she teased, clearly revelling in his unpreparedness. "Engorgio."
Suddenly, his newly transfigured shirt and trousers expanded dramatically and only his quick reflexes kept them from falling, preventing an embarrassing exposure. He looked at her, his expression deadpan and unamused, but Ginny remained undaunted.
"Don't be so grumpy, drink the potion and the clothes should fit again," she instructed, widening her own dress with another spell before downing her potion.
Harry barely had time to process what was happening before the changes became undeniable.
At first, it was subtle - the way her limbs stretched, the soft curve of her jaw sharpening slightly. Then, all at once, the transformation became impossible to ignore.
Her chest began to fill out, the contours of her breasts becoming more pronounced beneath the fabric of her dress, which now clung and stretched, adapting to the new, mature form of her body.
His eyes flickered downward before he could stop himself - her waist narrowing, her hips widening just enough to be noticeable. Her legs, already long, grew even more defined, the gentle movement of her shifting stance making the hem of her dress sway around her thighs.
Her face matured too, the last traces of girlish softness giving way to striking, adult beauty.
Even the way she carried herself changed, no longer just Ginny Weasley, his best friend and secret crush, but something else - someone older, someone confident in a way that made his stomach feel fluttery.
She ran her hands down her sides, checking the way the dress fit her now, seemingly unaware of how closely he was watching. When she finally looked up at him, a smirk played on her lips.
"Not bad, huh?" she said, her voice smooth, just a touch richer than before.
Harry swallowed hard, willing his brain to function. "Yeah... not bad."
Harry forced himself to tear his eyes away from Ginny - why did she have to look so damn stunning - and lifted the potion to his lips.
Immediately, his insides started writhing as though he'd just swallowed live snakes then a burning sensation spread rapidly from his stomach to the very ends of his fingers and toes. His bones ached, stretching and reshaping, his muscles pulling taut as he grew taller. His arms and legs elongated unnaturally fast, the world tilting as his perspective shifted.
A strange weight settled in his chest and shoulders - broader now, stronger. He flexed his fingers, feeling the unfamiliar proportions of his own hands. It was disorienting, like stepping into someone else's body in an instant.
Ginny stepped closer, her sharp eyes studying his face with an intensity that made Harry's stomach twist. "You look handsome, Harry," she said mischievously. Harry felt his face flush to what he was sure was a bright shade of red.
Before he could recover, she flicked her wand. "Reducio." His clothes shrank just enough to fit him properly.
Harry swallowed, suddenly feeling awkward. "Uh… you… you look really beautiful too, Ginny," he managed, his voice betraying his nerves. Why was it so hard for him to say these things? Dean seemed to compliment her effortlessly all the time and yet Harry felt like he was barely getting the words out.
Ginny's smile was warm and appreciative. "Thank you, Harry," she whispered, pulling him into a brief hug. If he wasn't red before, he was now certainly the colour of a ripe tomato.
Her beauty, paired with the scent, overwhelmed him, his mind reeling as he lingered on the fleeting sensation of her chest brushing against him.
As Ginny started down the secret passageway, she turned back to him. "You're coming, Harry?" she asked, snapping him out of his daze.
"Yeah, sure…" he replied quickly, hurrying to follow her.
After slipping out of the Shrieking Shack, Ginny led him through the dimming evening, her steps light and sure. Harry kept close, the cool Scottish air whispering against his skin.
When they finally emerged into the clearing, he was struck by the sight before him - dozens of witches and wizards, all dressed in flowing white linen robes like their own. Some wore flower crowns, just like Ginny.
In the centre of the clearing, two large fires blazed, their flames cycling through the spectrum of the rainbow, a clear indication of their magical nature. Above, wisps of light floated, flickering and dancing as people moved beneath them, casting an enchanting glow over the scene. They seemed unusual and Harry couldn't quite grasp why.
"Those are Wild Feylights," Ginny whispered in his ear, following his gaze. "Nobody knows exactly what causes them to appear above Beltane celebrations. Some think they're magical creatures, like Hinkypunks. Others say they're just manifestations of Beltane's magic itself."
"Beltane magic?" Harry asked, frowning slightly. "I thought this was just a celebration… like Christmas or something."
Ginny smiled, shaking her head. "Not quite. Beltane falls between the spring equinox and the summer solstice - right at the turning of the season. You learned in Astronomy how celestial alignments affect potions and rituals, right?"
Harry nodded hesitantly, not entirely sure where she was going with this - his Astronomy grades were average at best.
"On Beltane, magic related to healing, love and nature is particularly potent. That's why all the trees and plants around us look so vibrant," she said, nodding toward the forest beyond the stone circle, its rune-covered stones glowing faintly. Indeed, they appeared exceptionally lush and verdant - although Harry acknowledged he wasn't the expert Neville was.
This celebration somehow felt very... magical, for lack of a better word. Magic was an everyday occurrence in his life now, but this - magic tied to the seasons, the stars and the world around them - felt special. A deeper, older kind of magic.
Harry found himself quietly grateful to Ginny for showing him a part of the wizarding world he had never experienced before.
"Come on, Harry! I want to go through the fires," Ginny's voice broke through his thoughts.
He blinked, snapping back to reality. "What?" he replied intelligently.
Ginny pointed to a small queue ahead of them. "Walking between the two fires during Beltane is supposed to promote healing and cleanse dark magic. I don't have anything like that, but I still want to try all the traditions at least once." Her eyes gleamed with excitement as she grabbed his wrist. "Come on!"
Harry followed, unable to refuse her, especially when she was this excited - and still adjusting to her adult disguise, which threw him off balance.
As they reached the back of the line, a group of elderly witches sitting nearby took notice of them.
"Oh, what a darling couple! First date, is it?" one of them cooed, clearly hoping to embarrass them.
Harry immediately turned scarlet. He opened his mouth, ready to blurt out that they were just friends, but Ginny beat him to it.
"Yep! He's mine - hands off!" she quipped, making the witches giggle. "Oh, my turn! See you, Harry," she added, stepping toward the fires with a slow, deliberate stride.
Harry, still flustered, turned back to the elderly witches. "Ehm, we're just friends…" he muttered weakly. Why did I say that?
The witches chuckled knowingly.
"Maybe," one said, eyes twinkling. Did all old magical folk have that sparkle? "But don't forget to give your friend a Beltane kiss, sweetheart."
"A what?" Harry asked, his inner sarcastic voice groaning at his eloquence.
"It's tradition," she replied. "When a young wizard and witch attend Beltane together, he's meant to surprise her with a kiss during a dance. It's called a Beltane kiss - an important tradition."
"And it's a bit of an insult if she doesn't get one," another added. "Like saying she's too unattractive to kiss… Oh, your turn, dear."
Relieved to escape their teasing, Harry walked between the fires - perhaps a tad faster than Ginny had. "Ouch!" he yelped as his scar flared with pain.
Ginny was at his side in an instant, concern etching her face. "Your scar - does it hurt?" When he nodded, she hummed thoughtfully, as if piecing something together.
Harry frowned. "You suspected this?"
She hesitated for a moment before answering.
"I just wanted to make sure your scar wasn't carrying something harmful. I'm sorry, Harry, for not telling you outright. I've been reading about magical scars, and yours is… well, unusual. I was worried."
She glanced down, looking almost guilty.
Harry exhaled, the tension in his chest easing. Ginny had been worried about him. How could he be mad about that?
Gently, he reached out and lifted her chin with his fingers, guiding her gaze back to his. Her deep brown eyes met his own, filled with sincerity.
"It's okay, Ginny," he said softly. "Just tell me next time, yeah?"
She nodded, her lips curling into a small, relieved smile.
"Could I… cast some diagnostic spells on your scar once I've studied magical scars some more?" Ginny asked. "It hasn't hurt you yet, but I'd feel better if I could check."
Harry nodded, a bit hesitant.
"Alright, if it puts your mind at ease." He wasn't too concerned - surely Dumbledore or someone would've acted if the scar were a threat, right?
But then he paused. Would they?
A year ago, he'd have trusted that without question, but now he wasn't so certain. Honestly, Ginny might be the only person who cared enough to even consider it.
The thought lingered in his mind, echoing louder than he liked.
The only one who truly cared for him.
Sure, he had friends - Ron, Neville, his Quidditch teammates - but was there anyone who genuinely worried about him? About his well-being or his feelings? The idea of Ron fussing over his health was almost laughable.
It hit him then, with startling clarity, just how special Ginny was to him. He didn't want to lose her - to Dean or to anyone else. The very thought sent a sharp pang of fear through him, leaving him feeling strangely vulnerable and helpless.
"Thank you," Ginny said softly, wrapping him in another hug. Shouldn't he be the one thanking her?
Before he could dwell on it, she pulled back, her eyes bright with excitement.
"Come on, Harry, let's dance. No more thinking about unpleasant things."
She grabbed his hand and tugged him along - something she had been doing all evening - not that he was complaining. An enthusiastic Ginny was adorable and right now, she was all his.
Then, two very unfortunate thoughts struck him at once.
One: He couldn't dance. It wasn't like the Dursleys ever bothered to send him to lessons the way they had with Dudley.
Two: Those old witches had told him that a Beltane Kiss was tradition while dancing at a Beltane festival.
Was Ginny expecting him to kiss her? Would she be insulted if he didn't?
'I should've gone with Dean… he'd know how to treat a lady,' he pictured her saying, walking away.
No! He shook his head, startling Ginny, who shot him a puzzled look as his face burned.
"Let's dance!" he blurted out, gripping her hand in turn and leading her toward the other couples.
And then he froze. He had absolutely no idea what to do next.
"No worries, I'll show you," Ginny said, taking his hand and placing it on her back. His fingers grazed the warm softness of her skin through her thin linen dress and his mind went blank.
"I-I don't know the steps," Harry stammered.
"Neither do I," Ginny replied with a giggle, pulling him along.
The music swelled around them, louder now that they were on the dance floor - a purely instrumental blend of harps, flutes, rhythmic drums and other unfamiliar instruments. The melody was fluid and rich, weaving through the air like something out of time itself. If Harry had to describe it, Celtic seemed like the right word - not that he knew much about music.
Ginny grasped his other hand and guided him into a slow turn. Their steps were gentle, unhurried and not as daunting as he'd imagined - Ginny was in charge, after all. He mirrored her, relieved he hadn't trodden on her toes yet.
Around them, witches and wizards danced in a chaotic blend of styles - no set pattern to follow. The music quickened and Ginny spun them faster, leading with confidence. Somehow, Harry kept up.
Soon, he stopped fretting about his feet and started to enjoy it - the closeness of Ginny, her body against his, the rhythm carrying them along. He'd never done anything like this.
Dudley had once complained after his dance lessons about how stupid and boring dancing was. But then again, Dudley had never danced at a magical festival with the most beautiful girl in the world.
They danced for what felt like forever, until the music finally slowed. Their movements softened, becoming lazy and unhurried, as if neither of them wanted to stop.
Harry found himself lost - lost in Ginny's deep brown eyes, lost in the way she smiled at him like they were the only two people in the world.
Then the Beltane kiss flashed into his mind and his gaze drifted to her full, inviting lips.
Was she expecting him to kiss her?
Harry's heart thumped so fiercely he swore she could hear it. Did she anticipate it? The old witches had framed it as a Beltane tradition - something expected. But what if she wasn't thinking that at all? What if she just wanted to dance?
Ginny swayed to the fading music, her smile relaxed, fingers threaded through his - blissfully unaware of the storm churning inside him.
Harry swallowed, throat dry. He could do it, couldn't he? Just lean in. It was tradition - a Beltane Kiss, nothing more. Yet the idea twisted his stomach into knots.
His grip on her hand tightened slightly as he tried to gather his nerve. He started to lean in - just a little - but when he got close, panic surged through him and he lost his nerve.
"Harry, you okay?" Ginny asked, her brow creasing at his odd behaviour.
"Yeah, just… tripped a bit," he mumbled.
Damn it. Why was this so hard? Facing Voldemort last year had been less nerve-wracking than this.
'Just do it, Potter. Now!'
His pulse roared in his ears, drowning out the music, the laughter, everything that wasn't her.
Then his gaze flickered to her lips and his stomach plummeted.
'Don't chicken out again! You're a Gryffindor - house of the brave and daring. Just… just do it!'
With a final, shaky breath and a desperate 'here goes nothing', Harry, despite his fear and anxiety, leaned in.
His lips met hers - slowly at first, then with light force.
For a split second, he felt nothing but warmth - soft, unfamiliar, electric.
His mind went blank. Completely, utterly blank. As if someone had cast a stunning spell on him.
He had expected… he wasn't even sure what. Maybe awkwardness, maybe hesitation, maybe for her to pull away before he even had a chance to register it.
But this? This was nothing like what he expected.
It was better.
His heart slammed against his ribs and a rush of something hot and wild and dizzying flooded through him, spreading from his lips to the very tips of his fingers. Shock. Euphoria. Triumph. All at once, crashing into him like a rogue Bludger.
Ginny's lips were warm, soft, real. The way they moved against his - tentative but firm - made his stomach flip over itself.
He felt lightheaded, weightless, unstoppable. He was kissing Ginny Weasley!
She was still there, lips warm against his and that realization sent a thrill through him so powerful it left him lightheaded.
Harry had no idea what he was doing, but he didn't care.
Because, Merlin help him - this felt incredible.
And then, just like that, it was over.
Ginny pulled back, her face unreadable, while Harry struggled to breathe. His lips still tingled, his heart pounded like a drum and his mind - well, his mind was a complete mess.
She just stared at him for a moment, like she wasn't sure what to say. Then, she exhaled softly, tilting her head.
"This was my first kiss, you know."
Oh. Maybe he should have asked first. Or at least made sure Ginny was okay with it. But the old witches had said a Beltane Kiss was supposed to be a surprise…
"I… wait… it was a Beltane Kiss! It's tradition!" The words tumbled out before he could think.
Ginny blinked. "…A what?"
"A Beltane Kiss!" Harry repeated, desperate to make her understand. "The old witches said… it's part of the festival! A custom! I thought…"
He stopped.
Because Ginny's expression changed.
Not dramatically - just a tiny shift, a breath, a slight widening of her eyes, followed by the faintest parting of her lips. Like she had just realized something.
A second later, she swallowed and looked away, exhaling softly.
"Harry," she said, voice light, almost pitying. "That's not a real thing."
Harry's insides twisted painfully. Oh no.
His brain screamed fix it, but he had no idea how. He hadn't meant to hurt her! He thought… he was sure…
Ginny took a slow breath and when she looked back at him, there was something uncertain, almost vulnerable in her gaze.
"So… you only kissed me because it was tradition?"
Harry's heart stopped.
He felt like he had been petrified on the spot.
This was it. This was the moment. The chance to say something - anything - that wasn't incredibly, catastrophically stupid.
His throat tightened.
He could tell her. He could say no, he could tell her how incredible it felt, how much he liked her, how she was all he could think about.
He could tell her the truth.
Instead, his fear and confusion won.
"I… uh… yeah?" he said weakly.
The second the words left his mouth, he knew: He had messed up.
Ginny blinked, and her lips pressed together. For a moment - just a moment - she looked hurt.
It was barely visible, but it was there. And somehow, that made it so much worse.
Then, just as quickly, she let out a soft breath and forced a tiny, forgiving smile. "I see."
Harry wanted to throw himself into the Great Lake.
Ginny let the silence stretch between them for a second, then reached out, took his hand and gave it a small, reassuring squeeze.
"It's okay, Harry. I'm not angry..."
That made it so much worse. Because she was clearly trying to hide whatever she was feeling. She was giving him an out. And he hated it. He hated that he had hurt her. She gave him one last look - soft, unreadable - before gently letting go of his hand.
"We should head back to Hogwarts," she said, her tone light, almost casual. As if none of this had happened.
Then she turned and walked away, leaving Harry standing there, guilt twisting in his gut, regret pressing down on his chest like a weight. Merlin, he wished he could go back in time and punch himself in the face.
For a long moment, he just stood there, staring after her, his thoughts a tangled mess of confusion, self-reproach and something achingly unresolved. Then, finally, he forced his feet to move, trailing after her in silence as they made their way toward the Shrieking Shack, the quiet between them heavier than it had ever been before.