A/N: Another prompt. More of Ginny using her wiles to make Harry's quest for nobility difficult... :)

"Do you…well…I mean…I could give you a massage?" Harry stammered out. In response, Ginny whipped off her tank top, leaving her in a bra and cut offs.

"That would be absolutely heavenly," Ginny purred, kicking her beat up trainers towards the hand painted armoire, "I swear, everything hurts."

Averting his eyes, Harry ruffled his perpetually messy mop of dark hair and cast around for something to distract him from Ginny's semi-clad state, "From Quidditch?"

Ginny pulled the hair tie out of her bright red and gold hair, letting the waves pour down her back, "Nah, I was helping George restock shelves and I got all stiff." She sat down, legs spread around the back of her wooden desk chair and rested her forehead on the top.

Hesitantly, Harry reached a slightly shaky hand out and poked at her shoulder, "Yeah, I can tell, I think."

Laughing, Ginny stood, unabashed at her state of dress, "That was hardly enough to be able to tell how tense I am, and it certainly wasn't anything close to a massage."

Nodding, Harry tried and failed to ignore how good his girlfriend smelled, despite being shut up in a store room all day – what if I had been in there too, and the door accidentally got locked and – Harry shook his head, missing the mischievous sparkle in Ginny's eye, and put some distance between the two of them, "Maybe on the…bed?"

Ginny quirked a fiery red eyebrow and sauntered over to the bed, placing a knee on the mattress and looking at Harry over her shoulder, "Yeah, there's not much else to choose from, unless we use the kitchen table."

Oh God Ginny on the table…

Lifting her second knee onto the bed and placing her hands in front of her to steady herself, Ginny looked toward Harry again, flipping her hair, "Would you mind rubbing some of that analgesic cream in that mum left on the table?"

Eyes widening, Harry choked out, "Uh, no I can do that, sure thing."

Turning around, Harry began scanning the desk and chest of drawers for the aforementioned cream, when suddenly her purple bra flew through the air and landed on his head, knocking his glasses askew in the process. He looked up instinctively, and caught sight of a now topless Ginny in the mirror with her toned and freckled back to him.

Bloody – she's got to be doing this on purpose…

Harry took a deep, calming breath and stepped decisively toward Ginny's desk, where he had spotted the cream, when Ginny called out in a low voice, "I'm ready Harry."

Now facing the bed, Harry took in Ginny's lounging form, chest covered by a pillow that accentuated her…features by pressing them upward and shapely legs extended behind her, the late afternoon light brushing across her creamy, freckled skin.

The auror trainee strode toward the bed and sat down next to Ginny, who pushed the pillow under her head, arms tucked underneath, and glanced at Harry through heavily lidded eyes. Slowly, nervously, Harry emptied some of the pale blue cream on her back without making skin-to-skin contact.

Ginny tensed, "Ooo that's cold love, can you warm it in your hands?"

Harry nodded before realizing she couldn't see him and answered shortly, "Sure."

Slowly, he poured the lotion into his hands and rubbed it between them, before placing his hands tentatively on her shoulders, squeezing gently. After a few strokes, he settled into a rhythm and almost forgot that his mostly starkers girlfriend was lying beneath his fingers.

Unexpectedly, Ginny soon broke the silence, "What are you doing?"

Jumping slightly, Harry removed his hands and pulled them into his chest, before responding, "Massaging you?"

The redhead chuckled, "No I mean sitting like that. It's going to be all uneven, and plus you'll get a crick in your back and I'll have to massage you."

Wouldn't be such a bad thing – damn it. If Ron knew what I was thinking, he'd pummel me with a beater's bat…

Realizing he hadn't answered, Harry laid his hands on his jeans, trying to keep the goo away from the fabric with little success, "What should I do then?"

"Just straddle my bum," Ginny hummed.

Harry nearly choked on his tongue, unable to come up with any other sort of response.

Dissatisfied, Ginny pushed up again and tilted her face toward Harry, once again causing her two…friends to be very nicely accentuated, "Well?"

Ginny's unwavering stare and quirked brow spurred Harry's synapses to start firing again, "Uh, ok." Wiping his hands off on his trousers – they'll need a wash anyway – he kicked off his trainers and placed his knees on the bed, as Ginny had earlier. The bed creaked under his shifting weight – I hope no one is downstairs to hear that. Uneasily, Harry settled his knees on either side of Ginny's hips, and rubbed his clammy hands down his thighs, "I'm not hurting you, am I?"

Ginny chortled, "You're not even touching me."

Harry reddened, "Er, right I meant –"

Shifting around beneath him, Ginny answered suggestively, "Well nothing's touching down there either so…"

I wish she wouldn't talk about…down there.

Harry rubbed the cream between his hands once again, readying himself for the massage, "Ok. Right then."

As he began working the muscles, Ginny let out a low groan.

There are seven hundred Quidditch fouls listed in the Department of Magical Games and Sports records. The eleven most popular are…

"Oh Harry," Ginny sighed, eyes fluttering closed.

"Merlin's saggy-," Harry began muttering.

Brown eyes opening again, Ginny looked back to Harry, "What?"

Blushing once more, Harry murmured, "Nothing, just…" he cast around for an excuse, "-need more cream."

"Ok," Ginny breathed, satisfied, "This is so relaxing."

At least for one of us…

After that Harry continued massaging for a while, trying to control his daydreams, which were rapidly becoming less related to the act of massaging, and both parties were much less clothed. Focusing on the task at hand was no help, considering the task itself involved stroking up and down and up and – If this goes on much longer…

"Er- Ginny?" Harry got out through gritted teeth.

There was silence for a moment, when suddenly, Ginny let out a snort, smacking her lips. She's asleep – bloody buggering…

Harry sighed, slowly extricating himself from the bed, screwing the top back on the jar, "I may bludgeon myself with a beater's bat."