Ok, here's chapter ten. It might be a bit slow, but just stick with me. Enjoy!
By the next Tuesday, Harry wanted to pull his hair out.
He hadn't slept, and now spent most of his time either having evidence and documents brought to his apartment, or arguing with Ginny.
Since the attack at the Gala, she'd been staunchly resistant to change. Harry had read about it in a million cases. Human nature said that the more things change, the more people wanted them to stay the same. Ginny was no different.
At first, she'd balked at having to stay in his apartment for a week.
"What about my stuff?" She exclaimed over breakfast Sunday morning.
"We'll have it brought to you. If we're going to do a thorough bug search, it could take at least a week. We've got to check all the lamps, light fixtures, under all the carpets-" She'd thrown her bread crusts at him.
Next, she'd been furious when he wouldn't let her family come see her. This, he'd understood, but had explained very patiently that she wasn't going anywhere, and the details of her location was being closely guarded for as long as possible. The only thing he could do was set her up an untraceable phone account so that she could call them.
She'd thrown her current phone at him.
"You can't make me stay home from work, Harry, I'll lose my job. Colin's just itching for me to mess up! He's sent my piece on the women's leagues back four times. Four times, Harry! In the writing world, that means on thing: thin ice."
This argument had been yesterday, when she'd woken up and asked for her work clothes. Harry had informed her that she was taking a vacation week, and she hadn't been pleased. The only way to pacify her was to ship her laptop from her apartment to his, along with her printer from work.
And all throughout these arguments, he'd had to constantly keep himself in check. He was exhausted from the lack of sleep, even though his cot had been moved into his bedroom, he hardly slept, instead either watching Ginny sleep or re-reading the files of evidence he'd collected.
Neither of them had worked out since Thursday morning, and they were both growing irritated at the pent up energy. And there was tons of energy.
From their fights, constantly getting in each other's way in his cramped apartment, and, of course, the sexual tension that was reaching ridiculous heights.
Despite their blunt conversation Saturday morning and Ginny's desire to "call a spade a spade", Harry's attraction for her was still suppressed. Every time he looked at her, he remembered the feel of her lips on his.
The fact that he could now talk to her didn't help, either, even though he'd been sure that it would relieve some of his feelings. It didn't. Now, he was constantly watching his words, determined not to slip up.
His eyes, also, had a tendency to wander to parts of her body that he should not be so interested in. He spent all Tuesday staring at the files in front of him, stubbornly avoiding contact with her. Which proved to be more difficult than he'd thought, because he'd already memorized all the reports, and couldn't concentrate on information he already knew.
They were both jumpy and itchy when they settled into bed that night. Harry laid awake, blinking at the ceiling for a long time before his eyes shut and he fell into a sleep filled with strange dreams of dancing chickens, toast crusts, and Ginny's boss.
oOo
Ginny blinked her eyes open wearily. While she knew, logically, that she didn't have to go to work today, her brain had yet to tell her body that, and she'd woken up too early. Again. She turned her head, expecting to find Harry's green eyes peering back at her, but was surprised to find him still on his back, asleep.
A small smile played across her lips and she let herself look at him for a few minutes. She'd never really seen him sleep. Or, even with his eyes closed, come to think of it. He was the most protective, stubborn person she'd ever known.
I guess that's what makes him so good at his job. She thought, grudgingly. She glanced at his strong jaw, and couldn't help but remember the feeling of his rough stubble against her neck.
It was one, stupid kiss, Weasley! Get yourself together. She told herself. She really did need to do something soon. She hadn't left Harry's tiny apartment in almost four days, and she was starting to feel it. She needed to get out, go for a run, get away from Harry and his intense, knowing gaze.
He had to know that she was thinking about him all the time, it must have read on her face, because his eyes had been glued to her for almost the entire four days.
Ginny slid quietly out of bed, silently padding out of the room. Even while she loved Harry's eyes and his new, fiercely protective attitude towards her, his stare just sharpened her awareness of him, which was already sharp enough, thank you.
Ginny felt that her need for him had risen and risen, until it filled up the entire apartment and made her want to burst. She was aroused almost constantly. Her senses were bombarded with an endless stream of him, the smell of his soap in the shower, the sight of his broad shoulders, the taste of him still not quite leaving her tongue.
She had to resist the urge to growl as she pushed open the door to the weight room. It was not a room she'd visited yet, during her stay, and she breathed in the sunny air, which felt untainted by her frustration. She grinned at the familiar sight of the rowing machine. Harry had told her that it was his treadmill at her place, but she could get a good, solid sweat on, with the rower.
Her gaze traveled to the other side of the room. There were two closets, both flung open. One was immaculate, and Ginny stepped closer to admire it. She could never keep her closets clean. The other was only half done, but she assumed that it was an ongoing project.
She eyed the foot straps on the rower's pedals, and turned to the door, deciding to get her running shoes.
As she turned, however, the sunlight from the uncovered window hit against a large sheet of shiny paper on the floor. She brought her hand up to shield her eyes against the glare, and stepped forward to see what the light had caught on.
The spots cleared from her vision, and she found herself inexplicably staring at…herself.
Ginny gaped down at it, at a loss for words. The poster had to be at least four, maybe even five years old! She'd remembered her parents had been upset over it.
"It's scandalous!" Her mother had exclaimed, pointing a spatula at her. "It's not appropriate for an eighteen year old girl!" Her father had silently nodded in the background, looking like he'd rather not be there.
Ginny snorted. Shows what her mother knew. The sales from this poster alone had made her the most popular player in the Flash, and had gotten her a spot on first string the next year, from sheer fan popularity.
She bent and picked it up, gingerly. It was well-worn and, Ginny glanced at the tape marks on the back, had apparently been through several moves. She stared down at her own face, transfixed.
She'd looked so much younger then! She hadn't laid eyes on this poster in nearly two years, and she could clearly see the difference in herself now and herself back then.
Her cheeks had been a bit rounder than they were now, her hips, she thought jealously, a bit slimmer. And when she was eighteen, she'd never even heard of the name "Harry Potter." But, apparently, he'd heard of her.
He'd been staring at her half-naked body for at least four years, and hadn't said a word about it.
From down the hall, she heard Harry frantically call her name and froze, not sure what to do. She didn't want him to see her with his little secret, but she also wanted to see his face when he saw her holding it.
"Ginny!" He called again, and she was torn. Should she drop the poster and run for the kitchen? Or wait here and see if this was enough to pop the tension that had clung to him for days. She didn't have time to make the decision.
He came running down the hall and stopped short when he saw her, his hand gripping his chest.
"What the hell are you doing? Nearly gave me-"
She didn't get to find out what she'd nearly given him. He'd stopped short and gone completely pale once he'd registered what she was holding. His mouth hung open, and his throat worked soundlessly. They stared at each other, both a bit shocked, before she'd broken the silence.
"When did you get this?" She asked quietly. Maybe she was wrong and he'd bought it recently? But the look on his face negated that thought. He swallowed convulsively, but didn't answer her, which irritated her a bit.
"Have you had this for four years?" She demanded, realizing just how much it pissed her off. She'd been mooning around like some lovesick puppy for weeks, convinced that he could care less about her, and he'd had this stashed in his back room? How dare he act so high and mighty! Professional. He'd said. Well, this was a far from professional as he could get.
He cleared his throat trying, in vain, to make his vocal chords work. Ginny glanced back down before looking up to glare at him some more.
"Why is this here? Where have you been keeping it? Where did you get it?" She demanded, suddenly, irrationally, wondering why it was on the floor, and not the wall.
"It's…I just found it." Harry blurted out, turning red.
"Oh, it's not yours, is it? You just happened to find it lying around the weight room? Someone conveniently left it behind one day?"
"No." He said before she could get herself even more worked up. He managed to gather a small amount of control over his voice. "No, it's mine." He said more quietly, embarrassed. She stared at him, clearly expecting more.
"And?" She demanded, looking as if she wanted to set the poster, or him, on fire.
"And…I've had it forever. It's just a poster, a decoration- hey!" He exclaimed when she clenched her fist so tightly that the paper crinkled around her fingers. She relaxed them immediately.
"Oh, just decoration, eh? Funny, you're so protective over just a poster."
"I hate when you use my words against me." He snapped at her, stepping forward and reaching a hand out, as if hoping to get the item in question out of her hands. Not likely.
"Well, we've only been speaking for about three days, so I can hardly see how you could jump to such a strong emotion as hate over it." She glared at him, jerking the poster out of his reach.
"It's not my fault that you're ridiculous and infuriating." He glared back, stepping forward again. She stepped back, and felt her spine come into contact with the wall.
"It is, actually, your fault. If you wouldn't be watching me all the time-"
"I'm your bodyguard, what else would you have me do?" He growled.
"I think we both know that you're a bit more than that." She said, which froze him in his tracks.
"Do not bring up the-"
"Oh, I'll bring up the Underwear Incident if I damn well want to!" She cut him off, her chest heaving now, her heart pounding in her ribcage. She couldn't remember being this angry in her whole life. All the tension from the past few days seemed to descend on them and crystallize into this one argument.
"That's not my business!" Harry yelled. "In a professional capacity, I have no interest in your panties!"
"Well, then," she said, shoving the poster into his arms and stalking past him, shouldering him out of the way, "In a professional capacity, you won't care that I haven't been wearing any since Saturday!" She screamed back at him, pounding down the hall and slamming the bedroom door behind her.