January 21, 1999

Ginny hitched her bag over her shoulder and hurried down the corridor towards the DADA classroom. Her brother and Hermione were going to be lecturing and she was hoping to get to class early enough to give them a quick but pointed reminder about the importance of silencing charms. As much as she'd loved having Harry hang out with her in the common room the previous Sunday, the poor boy had looked absolutely exhausted by the time he decided it was safe to go back to his flat.

And given their decision not to go through with the sex pact, she didn't think he would survive another night of listening to her brother and Hermione get it on. Even though she had been the one to bring it up, Ginny wasn't sure exactly why she had changed her mind. For one brief minute she had been struck with the oddness of the two of them sleeping together — as if it were no more than him helping her learn a new Quidditch move or something.

It hadn't seemed like a big deal before, when they'd done . . . all the other things they'd done together. It had been easy to joke about first kisses and getting drunk — she was too comfortable with Harry for it to ever be awkward. Even Christmas, even after they'd given each other their "presents", nothing was different. They'd exchanged their public gifts the next day with her family and talked and laughed about school and the Aurors and the fact that Ron had finally gotten up the nerve to announce he was going into business with Fred and George. It hadn't even mattered that the subject of the pact or what they had done in Ginny's room hadn't come up again. And then she had to go and mess things up.

Ginny sighed. She had probably been reading too much Witch Weekly — she seemed to remember seeing a story on the latest issue on Demelza's bed, How to Know if He's The One, or something like that. Now it was too late. What was she going to do, send Harry an owl at work saying whoops, changed my mind again, are you free next Sunday for a shag after all? She didn't think so.

Although maybe she should try to talk to him anyway, she thought. At least to find out if he was also having second thoughts about . . . her second thoughts. Really, it wasn't like actual sex was that much different than oral sex, and they'd gotten past that just fine. Yes, she would talk to him as soon as she could. They were best friends — why shouldn't she?

She was mentally deciding whether to try Flooing Harry again or if a letter might be better this time when she got to the DADA classroom. Apparently her rushing had worked; Ron and Hermione were the only ones there and by the looks of things Ginny had either interrupted them snogging or fighting. Probably both, she thought to herself. Harry really put up with a lot with those two. The least she could do was try to help him out.

"Hey," she said, smirking at the way they jumped apart. Ron wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Oh, hey Gin," he said. "Hermione and I were just preparing for our lecture."

"Right," said Ginny. "So we're going to practice what to do if we suddenly get attacked by a Dark Wizard who wants to kiss us to death?"

Ron and Hermione turned bright red.

"Protective charms," said Hermione firmly, ignoring Ginny. "Like the wards we learned to set while we were on the Horcrux hunt."

"Oh, of course," said Ginny. "Protective charms." She pretended to think. "Do the two of you really think you're qualified to lecture on them?"

"What do you mean?" asked Hermione. "We spent a year on the run and our wards never failed us."

"True," said Ginny. "You were all really careful about setting Silencing and Privacy charms during the Horcrux hunt. Too bad it didn't carry over to your real life, like say, when you're shagging each other in the flat Ron shares with Harry." She raised her eyebrows, enjoying a bit too much the way the two of them flinched and looked embarrassed.

"When did we . . .?" Hermione began weakly.

"Last Sunday night," said Ginny primly. "Poor Harry came home exhausted from an emergency at work and he couldn't even stand to be in the flat with the two of you."

Ron and Hermione looked at each other. "We were trying out that book you'd picked up in . . ." Ron muttered.

"Oh, right," Hermione interrupted him. "Yes. Well. We'll be more careful from now on."

"We may not have to," Ron smirked, "if Harry's date next week goes well. I hear she's hot."

Ginny felt like she'd been punched in the gut. "Date?" she asked weakly.

Students were starting to trickle into the classroom. A couple of them called out greetings but Ginny barely heard them. Harry's going on a date? With a hot witch?

"How? Who?" she asked.

"Skylar Marks," Ron said. He looked to be about to say more, but Fleur came in then, ending all the chatter.

Ginny had to take her seat, but her mind was spinning. Skylar Marks?

Skylar Marks was Ginny's age. She was in Ravenclaw, or had been in Ravenclaw, through the end of Fourth Year. After the Department of Mysteries debacle alerted everyone that Voldemort had returned, Skye hadn't come back to school. The story was that her parents (pure bloods, both) didn't want her getting hurt and were teaching her at home. Ginny didn't know her that well — Skye hadn't been in the D.A. and seemed to spend a lot of time in the library.

But Ron was right about one thing — Skylar Marks was very pretty. She had thick dark hair and blue-gray eyes and perfect teeth and a nice figure and pretty soon, Ginny started feeling rather sick, thinking about Harry, going on a date with beautiful, perfect Skylar Marks.

Why did it matter? He could go out with anyone he wanted — Ginny certainly didn't have any sort of claim on him. So what if she'd been about to owl him to ask if he wanted to reinstitute their pact?

Ginny couldn't figure out how to get rid of the lump that was suddenly in her throat. It had just occurred to her that even if she hadn't suggested they cancel their agreement, Harry's going on a date changed everything. They had only planned to sleep together if neither of them were with someone else. And now look what happened.

Harry had a date. With Skylar Marks. He'd probably fall in love with her, Ginny thought dourly. Skye had never struck Ginny as the type to fawn all over a bloke just because he was famous — Harry would probably think she was refreshing or something. And she kept a very low profile — Harry would love that. No danger following them around, no fawning all over him just because of his name, just the two of them, hanging out, talking, kissing . . . She put her head down on her desk, wishing she could stop thinking about the . . .

". . . danger in the Skye?" Ginny's head jerked up. Had she said that out loud? She looked around. "Huh?"

"Ginny," said Fleur patiently. "Can you give ze' class an example of a spell that would protect from a danger in ze' sky?"

"Oh," said Ginny stupidly. "Right." She gave the answer and then tuned out again.

Why was this bothering her so much? Because Harry was going on a date? He was her best friend — she should be happy for him. Now he didn't have to worry about their silly (and canceled) pact. Now he had the chance to fall in love with someone else.

Someone else?

Ginny stifled a groan. The truth was staring her in the face and she didn't even bother trying to deny it. She was jealous. Jealous of Skylar Marks, going out on a date with Harry.

And why are you jealous, Ginevra?

The voice sounded like a combination of Fleur and Hermione, which was not surprising, since the two of them were still lecturing the class.

Ginny knew the answer to this one too. She was jealous because she wanted to go out on a date with Harry. Bugger Skylar Marks.

Hermione was giving her a sharp look and for a second Ginny was afraid she'd spoken out loud. But it was just that the class was getting up to practice their protective charms and Ginny was still in her seat. She jumped to her feet and got in line to demonstrate; all the while her mind was whirling.

She fancied Harry. No, it was more than that. "Fancy" meant a girl who mooned over a bloke she didn't know that well, but wanted to. Witches (and wizards, for that matter) acted like idiots around someone they fancied. You couldn't just hang out and talk with someone you fancied — you were too busy trying to get them to notice you and like you.

That didn't describe how she felt about Harry at all. She already knew him almost as well as she knew herself. She certainly didn't act like a bumbling, stammering idiot around him anymore — hadn't since she was a First Year.

Did she love him?

Her thoughts were interrupted — yet again — when she reached the front of the line and had to demonstrate several privacy spells. She did them perfectly, which was no surprise, since Harry had taught them to her last summer. After the Final Battle he'd made a brief attempt to withdraw into himself, but she'd had none of it. She'd talked to him and teased him and — finally — listened to him when he began talking.

He'd opened up to her a lot, she realized. They'd spent hours together, some of the happiest hours Ginny could ever remember. Truth was, she loved spending time with Harry. Even more truth was, she loved Harry. And she hadn't suspected a thing.

When class ended, Ginny stomped out of the classroom without even saying goodbye to Ron and Hermione.

Harry sighed at the pile of half-finished reports on his desk. Part of being an Auror trainee meant that, in addition to following the more senior Aurors around, he got stuck with the majority of the paperwork. And he didn't have hours to sit at his desk tonight getting things finished. Tonight, he had a date.

He still wasn't quite sure how it had come about. He'd been talking with Galena Rhodes, the senior Auror on his team, about the team's caseload and how busy they all were. Harry liked Galena a lot — she was assured in the field, bright and hardworking. She never let the fact that she had a family get in the way of her work, and she never let her work get in the way of her family. Harry sometimes thought she considered him more like another of her sons and so when she joked casually about the fact that Harry never made time for dating, he hadn't been insulted.

"Eh, I just haven't found the perfect girl yet," he had answered. "You know, that rare witch who wants to date me for me, and not so she can run to all her friends and brag that she knows what Harry Potter likes to order at restaurants."

At that, the head of the Auror Department, Devon Marks had stuck his head around the doorway of Harry's cubicle and "suggested" that Harry take out his niece Skylar. Devon had mentioned that it would probably be a good match for a number of reasons, but he hadn't elaborated on what those reasons might be. It hadn't escaped Harry's notice that Galena had raised her eyebrows at Devon's comments, but as it wasn't Harry's place to question his boss, he'd simply agreed to the date.

At least it gets me out of paperwork for the evening.

Harry hadn't thought much about the date, beyond asking Hermione for a restaurant suggestion and enduring ten minutes of Ron gushing about how good-looking Skylar Marks was. He'd spoken to her by Floo once — Ron was right, he supposed, Skylar was attractive — and had been relieved that she hadn't gushed or seemed at all in awe of him.

And now they were going to be spending an entire evening together at a nice, out-of-the-way Muggle restaurant Hermione had suggested, and then at a jazz club in Diagon Alley. It felt kind of weird actually, going out on a date with a witch he didn't even know and for the first time he wondered exactly what he had gotten himself into.

Gathering his papers together before locking them in his desk, it occurred to Harry that this was the first real date he'd had since Cho. (Or, as Ginny had begun calling her after that Hogsmeade weekend, Cho Bloody Chang). He grimaced to himself. Hopefully tonight would go better than that date had gone. He didn't fancy having Skylar Marks either crying all over him or getting up in the middle of the date and storming out because she thought he was interested in another girl.

As he walked down the hall of the Aurors' offices wearing his traveling cloak more than one head looked up. It wasn't often that one of the trainees left for the evening before the more senior Aurors. He saw two of his fellow trainees whispering together and was certain he heard the word "Skye" as he walked past. A couple of other Aurors gave him a thumbs up and Galena came out and straightened the collar of his robes under his cloak. "Have fun," she said. She looked like she wanted to say more but instead just tugged at his collar again.

Harry had to endure a bit of back-slapping from Devon before he finally escaped the office but finally he was at the Apparition point, mentally going over the location of Skylar's flat. She lived in a fancy building that could be entered either from Diagon Alley or the Muggle street.

I should have just met her at the restaurant, Harry thought to himself as he took the lift up to her flat. He really had no desire to endure a tour of the flat or gawking from roommates, but it was too late to worry about that now.

But Skylar lived alone and met him at the door holding two glasses of wine "to help get over the blind date awkwardness" she said.

Harry took the wine gratefully and felt himself relax a fraction. He could do this.

His first impression of Skye felt familiar; she reminded him a bit of Hermione, if she took the time every day to straighten her hair and put on makeup and wear form-fitting clothes. Even the apartment looked like a place Hermione would feel comfortable in — there was a wall of books in the sitting room to Harry's right, and a desk covered in neatly stacked papers and rolls of parchment.

"Nice flat," he said, walking over to the windows. There was a wonderful view of London from a perspective Harry had never seen before. "I like the view."

"Thank you, " she said. "I've lived here a year and still haven't gotten tired of looking out the window. She took Harry's empty wine glass. "Do you want more, or do we need to leave?"

Harry looked at his watch. "We should probably go. It's a Muggle restaurant so we'll need to take a taxi."

"A Muggle restaurant," said Skylar. "How charming."

Skylar sounded enthusiastic, but Harry couldn't help but feel there was an undercurrent of . . . something in her tone. He brushed it off. Maybe she didn't eat in Muggle London often.

He took her cloak when she picked it up off a chair and held it while she slipped it on. She smiled at him and let him hold open the door to her flat as they left.

Yes, he could do this.

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Later, during the few times he ever talked about the date with Skye, Harry always divided it into three parts: before, during and after. Before was filled with small talk, hearing about how she'd been home-schooled her final three years and graduated early, how she didn't really like Quidditch. Before was fine. A little boring, perhaps, definitely nothing special, but fine. The best part of Before, Harry always liked to say, was the two minutes Skye had spent talking about what she remembered of Harry's good friend, her former classmate Ginny Weasley.

During still made him see red. Harry was surprised even now that he hadn't tried to hex Skye right there in the restaurant, forget the Statute of Secrecy. During made him understand why Galena had raised her eyebrows when she heard that Harry was going on a date with Skylar Marks. During was when Skye had basically told Harry that she couldn't understand how anyone could have risked their life for others during the War — that if it had been her with a Prophecy over her head, she'd be living in France right now, under an assumed name. During was when Ginny's face had suddenly flashed through Harry's mind and he had realized that the last place he wanted to be was on a date with anyone who wasn't her.

And After . . . after was when he stopped trying to be polite, when he had stopped the date, and started trying to make everything right.