Ginny stared at the canopy of her four-poster bed, hands clasped across her bare stomach as Arnold the Pygmy Puff scooted around somewhere near her feet. First game of the season and she felt perfectly content to go back to sleep. But the team, not to mention the rest of Gryffindor, was counting on her. She sat up, stretched ungracefully, and swung her legs over the side of her bed.
Hermione and the rest of the seventh-years were already down in the Great Hall, which meant that Ginny was late. Not bothering to stifle a yawn, she slipped out of her pajama bottoms and pulled on her tan leggings, followed by a sports bra and red-and-gold team sweater. After lacing up her boots she returned Arnold to his cage and left the dormitory, dragging her feet and irritably wrestling her dishelved red hair into a ponytail.
October seventeenth. It had been forty-six days since Harry had seen her off at platform nine-and-three quarters before returning to his apprenticeship at the Auror office, where he had spent much of the summer following the Battle of Hogwarts-after having helped to rebuild the castle, anyway. It was a subject of much brooding between she and Hermione that George and Arthur got to see more of Ron and Harry, respectively, than their own girlfriends did. Oh well, Ginny thought grumpily, descending the Grand Staircase. Only two more months until the holidays.
She entered the Great Hall and sat down to a roar of applause from the crimson-clad Gryffindors, along with most of the Hufflepuffs. Today's game was against Ravenclaw, and Slytherin House, while having been liberated from many of its bigoted ideals with Voldemort's defeat, remained Gryffindor's rivals as far as inter-House competition went. Despite the cheers and words of encouragement, Ginny wasn't at all feeling like a star Chaser at the moment. She met Hermione's grimace with one of her own, accepted a cheerful thump on the shoulder from Peakes, and wolfed down her scrambled eggs before trooping down the steps and across the field, Fireboly in hand-a seventeeth birthday gift paid for by Harry, Ron, and George. Even with Fred gone, the joke shop was running more successfully than ever in the light of the wizarding world's recent victory. She was glumly reminded again that this was going to be Gryffindor's first match in seven years without Harry at Hogwarts, as the Quidditch tournament had not taken place during the Carrows' reign of terror over her sixth year. Her heart fell as she wondered if he even knew that it was today. They barely even wrote anymore...
The team entered the locker room, Ginny in the lead, tears threatening to betray her as she laced up her leather pads and clasped her scarlet Quidditch robes over her chest, but she clenched her teeth and blinked them away furiously. She did NOT cry. Swallowing the small lump in her throat, Ginny stood up on a bench and surveyed the team. Demelza, Peakes, and Coote had returned from two years ago, as had Dean, opting like Hermione to stay for a proper seventh year at Hogwarts. The new Seeker was a quiet, slight third-year by the name of Ryan Porter; the Keeper, a tall, sturdy bloke called Cole Bergren.
"Listen up, you lot," Ginny said loudly, her voice steady. She only trusted herself enough to make eye contact with Demeleza and Bergren, otherwise she stared stoically at the ceiling. "This game makes or breaks how we do for the rest of the year. You've got no reason to mess this up," and she couldn't help adding, "I don't think Fred would ever have forgiven me if I let us lose to Ravenclaw."
It wasn't necessary, she told herself as she led the them out of the locker room. She was the only one left on the team who had ever played alongside Fred and George, whose stories had become the stuff of legends after the hell they gave Filch, their miraculous escape from Umbridge all those years ago, and Fred's death at the hands of the Death Eaters. Apart from herself, Dean was the only other team member who had even known the twins. They lined up in the center of the pitch, facing the seven opposing Ravenclaws. Ginny crushed Captain Michael Corner's hand with her own, forcing a demeaning smirk onto her face, and Madam Hooch blew the whistle. Four balls were launched into the air.
The game was over in a quarter of an hour, due to Porter's brilliantly sharp eye. Ginny, who had scored six goals alone compared to Ravenclaw's two, was discussing the boy's victory with him.
"Now don't go thinking that you can keep winning on sheer dumb luck like that," she said, grudgingly admitting that his had been one of the best catches she had ever seen. "A lot of people are going to be thinking that you could put our last Seeker to shame, but-"
"Don't count on it," whispered a voice into her ear. Her heart stopped, followed by her feet. The little Seeker looked up at her curiously.
"Go on then," she said meekly. "Meet you lot in the common room."
Ginny stood, seemingly alone, at the edge of the pitch. "Harry?" she breathed.
The tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy and his dancing trolls had been replaced with one of Harry locked in battle with Voldemort. The real Harry threw off his invisibility cloak, revealing that he grown a wispy little goatee. Ginny saw his tapestry self catch his eye and give him a wink. She rolled her eyes as a grand wooden door appeared in the blank stretch of wall across from the tapestry.
"After you, Ms. Weasley," Harry said with a gracious bow. Ginny scoffed and lightly pushed his chest, silently admitting that the mock reverence looked sexy coming from him, especially with his new peacoat accentuating his thin frame.
"But you're too kind, Mr. Potter," she answered, straightening her back pomously but letting a smile flit across her lips. She pushed open the door to the Room of Requirement and the smile turned to a full grin as she took in the room's contents: a spacious, red-carpeted chamber filled with mirrors and shelves containing butterbeer and firewhisky, completed with a lush canopy bed big enough for two. Piano music was being piped in somewhere nearby. Ginny turned to look at him, a mischevious twinkle in her eye.
"Hmm...I hope they don't miss their lead Chaser back at the common room," Harry said, hanging up his coat on a rack that hadn't been there a second ago. She turned and let him to take her Quidditch robes off of her shoulders.
"They won't, not with the new guy that they have to fawn over. I swear, this kid could give you a run for your money..." she grinned shiftily up at him; his face was now inches from hers. He'd grown another inch in the past couple months. His hands dropped to her hips and fingered the waistband of her leggings.
"You don't really think that." He glanced down and back up at her face; she smirked as he looked hungrily into her eyes with his radiant green ones.
"Don't I?" She danced away lightly and flopped down on the edge of the bed, spread-eagled with her legs dangling off the side. "Well you're just gonna have to prove that you're better than him at something." Harry grinned and advanced toward her. She gazed into his eyes as he crawled on top of her. "Oh, and Harry?"
"Yes?"
She pushed him onto his back and kissed him. "Lose the beard."