Summary: Gin is fire… glowing, vibrant and full of life.

Harry Potter is ice… cool, distant and difficult to reach.

Harry knows that Gin is the last woman he would fall for. After all, apart from her beautiful eyes, what else does she have going for her? For her part, Gin hates the handsome man who has destroyed everything that made her happy. Then fate intervenes and Harry finds himself fathoms deep in love with the mysterious Ginevra Raven, but Ginevra seems to be the only woman who is immune to the irresistible Potter charm…

Chapter 25

Draco jumped nervously as the doorbell rang and looked down the empty corridor when Tom brushed past him. Thankfully, there was no one in sight. "I don't like meeting here," he complained petulantly. "Shouldn't we have met in some crowded, public place?"

"To discuss kidnap plans? I hardly think so."

Draco flushed. Tom hefted a well-used briefcase on to the low, glass-topped coffee table. "Got any coffee?"

Draco jerked. He felt badly off-balance. "Sure. Colombian or Costa Rican?"

Tom smiled. "I'll leave the important decisions to you," he said drolly, and again Draco flushed. Nevertheless, he stalked to the kitchen and made the coffee. He had no choice.

After Tom had wrecked his chances with Eloise Miggeon, Draco had been deeply depressed. At this rate it wouldn't be long before his friends started to desert him. And the only way to get rid of Tom was to do what he wanted. And perhaps Tom really was clever enough actually to pull the kidnapping plot off. The thought of getting money out of Hermione and the Grangers after all they'd put him through was undeniably sweet.

Tom was studying the blueprints of the Granger office building when Draco returned with the coffee. "I hear you ex has found herself a new man." Tom said casually, watching Draco's face with all the attention of a hawk. "Some Englishman or other. A big, handsome man, by all accounts."

Draco stiffened, and Tom's smile widened. Good. He was eaten alive with anger and jealousy. Theo's information was turning out to be useful after all. "So… are you ready to listen?" Tom asked, but one look at Draco's suddenly bright and avid eyes told him the answer. "Now, here's what I have in mind…"

When Tom left Draco Malfoy's flat an hour later there was a spring to his step. He'd planned a little surprise for Harry too, to coincide with the hotel's grand opening in January. Revenge would be sweet. He could still remember all the injections, all the pills. The basket weaving. The model making. The hours spent watching afternoon soaps. The talks with shrinks. The shock therapy. Yes, revenge would be sweet.

He took the subway and used the back alleys to get to his seedy hotel and his dingy single room. He sat down on his sagging bed wearily. He'd be glad to get back to Vermont, not that Draco Malfoy had been successfully hooked. He lay back on the bed and stared up at the cracked, dirty ceiling. He didn't mind the squalor now. Funny how it once had infuriated him. It had been to escape the squalor of their New York slum his father insisted on calling their 'home' that had made him try to get out in the first place, giving Harry the perfect opportunity to get rid of him.

Tom laughed bitterly. His plan had been a good one, too. It would have worked. Honey would have been alright. Trust Harry to panic. If he hadn't, everything would have been great. The authorities would have been forced to move them to better accommodation, but, if not, he'd had a back up plan to go to the press. They were always looking for human interest stories. Hell, they might even have been able to take on the city and win enough compensation to get back to Vermont.

But Harry had has to ruin it all, going to the cops. Still Tom knew that his own time was coming – that it was going to be his turn to do the destroying and make all the money.

Soon.

Very soon.

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Harry reached for the binoculars once more, the setting already perfect for what he had in mind. It should be. He'd been watching her all morning. The last week in November had bought with it an unusually high amount of snowfall and already Stowe was alive with tourists, gondolas and ski-lifts packed with happy red faces.

He dug his ski poles expertly into the snow and moved off, his skis making crisp, clean tracks in the snow. He was on Spruce Peak, where mostly beginners and intermediates chose to begin their holiday. He smiled as the cherry pink figure made yet another successful run. He was proud of her. Most people, after nearly dying in an avalanche, wouldn't have the courage to take to skis again, at least not for some time. But not his lovely, stubborn Ginny. She'd been out the next chance she got, practising for all she was worth. She didn't even have an instructor with her.

He headed towards her, skiing gracefully and without any conscious effort. Ginny, her eyes fixed to the front of her skis, weren't aware of his presence until a shadow fell over her, and she jerked to a less than graceful halt. "You'll have to watch out I'm…" her voice faltered and trailed off as he lowered his darkened goggles and she found, herself staring into eyes of the deepest green.

"You never give up do you?" he said softly.

Ginny looked him straight in the eye. "No. Never. And I'd better get back to prat…ising!" she landed in the snow with a whump.

"Are you ok?" he asked, laughing and bending down to help her up. With his hands under her armpits he lifted her easily, and when she turned to look at him she was smiling ruefully.

"I'm fine." Except, suddenly she wasn't. His hands were still under her armpits, and their skis had crossed as he'd moved closer. She could feel her body leaning towards him, and, with the awkward skis attached to her feet, she suddenly couldn't halt the movement. Briefly his hands tightened her hers then relaxed, and she reached out to clutch his shoulders to steady herself. "I don't think I'm safe to be let loose," she said, her heart hammering in her breast, her mouth going suddenly dry.

"I wouldn't say that. You just need an instructor, that's all, and I'm than willing to teach you s lesson. In skiing, I mean," he added softly as her head whipped up, her eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"Oh, that's not necessary," she said quickly, then dismay so evident in her voice that he wanted to laugh out loud, and at the same time take her by her lovely padded shoulders and shake her until her teeth rattled. "I really don't mind learning just by trial and error."

"That's a very painful way of doing thing, Ginny," he said softly, and reaching over he lifted her chin with one finger until their eyes were locked together. "Didn't the avalanche teach you that much?" for a second they remained absolutely still, then he slowly withdrew his hands from her arms and moved back, leaving her suddenly feeling bereft. Shaking her head, she took a deep breath, and the sound of her sigh sent tingles shooting through him. Unbidden, his eyes roamed hungrily over her. She looked good. Even though the thickly padded suit he could see the swelling curves of her breasts and his hands tingled as they remembered their perfect, heavy, hot weight in his palms. He swallowed hard.

Ginny's nipples stood to attention the moment his eyes touch her there. She bit her lip to prevent the small moan in her throat from escaping, and she swallowed hard. Think, dammit! A warning voice screamed in the back of her head.

"I was wondering if you've come to a decision about Coldstream farm yet," she said, clearing her throat and digging her poles into the snow. "I can't wait forever," she added, her voice dropping an octave, and giving him a quick glance of mocking eyes, she pushed off down the shallow piste. She grinned when she heard him mutter a soft curse. He had to follow her, of course. They both knew that, and her smile turned into soft, delighted laughter. She was actually having fun, she realised with a little tremor of shock. She was in Stowe in winter, on the pistes and dressed in right pink/red. It was so far from Ravenheights, her old brown clothes and the mollifying routine of her old life that it was almost impossible to tally the two together and believe she and the old Gin Weasley was the same person. Then, out of her peripheral vision, she saw him moving with her, his own midnight blue ski suit never leaving the corner of her eye, and suddenly it wasn't hard at all. This was still Harry Potter beside her. And she still had to do a lot.

With growing expertise she came to a near halt and turned to look at him, about to say something sophisticated, but her heart leaped into her throat as he pulled up beside her, his lean body bending close to hers, his flashing green eyes shooting sparks of anger and desire. Frantically she tried to stem the unwanted shivers of pleasure coursing through her body.

"What are you thinking, I wonder?" he asked softly, and before she could make any move to stop him he leaned forward and gently lifted the goggles away from her face. "That's better. You've got such beautiful eyes, I… they take my breath away every time I see them," he said softly.

"I was thinking…" she swallowed hard, and tried again. "I was thinking that if you don't make an offer on the farm soon I'll have to see it to someone else," she determinedly dragged the bait under his nose again. "I need to make profit, after all." she added chidingly.

Harry smiled viciously. She wanted him to beg for that land, wanted it so badly that he could feel it emanating from her. The tension stood out in the tendons of her lovely throat, and she turned so tight she was quivering like a bowstring. Perhaps it was time to see just what she was made of. His smile turned sweet. "Oh, I don't know that I want it after all," he said nonchalantly, watching her closely as she gave a small gasp of shock. "Not now that I've bought that parcel of land adjoining the hotel… funny thing about that," he mused. The previous owner died four months ago, and it took a while for probate to go through. I had it all set up to buy from the heir the moment he legalities were through. I just got back from signing the papers this morning. So you see, I'm not sure I need any more land at the moment."

"Thanks for telling me," she said stiffly. Damn. Damn! Suddenly, her eyes sharpened. Just why was he telling her all this now? Surely he didn't suspect. No, he couldn't, she reassured herself hastily. He was just playing a game of one upmanship. And two could do that. "Well, that certainly makes it easier to accept another buyer now. They…he," she deliberately stumbled over her supposed mistake, "Is very keen to buy. I'll call New York tomorrow then, shall I?"

This time it was Harry who stiffened. Knowing Ginny, she was easily clever enough to realise that selling to a rival leisure company would hurt him the most. Damn, she was a vicious little cat, he thought, his stomach clenching as excitement shivered through him. He forced himself to shrug and smile. She smiled back, her eyes glittering like those of a tiger. Yes, she'd make a wonderful tigress, he thought, a powerful lance of sexual desire suddenly shaking him to the core. All teeth and claws, and beautiful bright, pagan eyes… Oh God, how he wanted her! He heard his breath catch in his throat, the sound raw and unmistakeable, and Ginny felt her vagina contact in sudden, abrupt reaction. Her knees turned weak and her nipples thrust savagely upwards, making her own breath catch and lodge in her lungs.

Suddenly Harry moved forward, crossing his skis over hers, very cleverly pinning her to the spot. She made an instinctive backward movement, but since her legs couldn't move there was nowhere for her to go. She windmilled her hands briefly to get back her balance, and his hands shot out, grasping her hard by the shoulders and pulling her, almost brutally into his waiting arms. His lips were on hers a moment later, his hands holding her arms firmly to her side, as if he expected her to struggle. But struggling was the last thing on her mind; she'd wanted him to do this for days. It was as if no time at all had passed since they'd lain together on his couch, their bodies clamouring for release. She parted her lips willingly, her whole body quivering at the moist, erotic, welcoming invasion of his tongue. She moaned behind his lips, yearning to press herself into his arms, to feel her tingling nipples rub against him, for her trembling legs to lean against his as her whole body turned liquid, but the long, awkward skis kept them apart.

"Harry…" she breathed his name as he slowly lifted his head.

"No more games, Ginny," he said, the words half plea, half demand. Still dazed and unable to think clearly, she numbly shook her head and followed his lead.

"No. No more games."

"You'll have dinner with me tonight?"

"Yes."

His eyes bored into hers, and she suddenly felt naked. What was he thinking? What was she thinking? For a weird, eerie second she didn't know. Then she forced her brain to start working. Obviously he still wanted her, and she was just agreeing to play up to that, wasn't she? She had to gain access to his files at the new hotel somehow, and before it opened to the public. And to do that she had to gain more of his trust. That was all there was to it. Simply, really. Except… except her heart was thundering in her chest, and a hot, dizzying pulse was throbbing in her blood.

"Good," he said softly, but when she looked up at him his eyes had lost that tender, almost bemused look, and they once again icy green lasers. "I'll pick you up at seven tonight," he said forcefully. "All right?"

"Lovely." She watched him ski away until he was out of sight, nibbling her lower lip all the while. Time was passing. She had to do something soon. From now on, she had to make things happen by herself. And tonight was just the beginning. Tonight… when they'd be alone together. Inexperienced she might be, but she knew what had just happened between them. And Harry Potter was not the kind of man who would be prepared to wait for long; she'd just have to accept that. Then she remembered the way she'd responded to his touch, and a hot flush spread over her. It wouldn't be hard, would it? A mocking little voice whispered at the back of her mind. It wouldn't be hard at all to 'force' herself to accept his lovemaking. She shook her head, angry at herself. She had to do more then just… seduce him. She had to do something constructive. Think! She urged herself, making her careful way back to the ski-rental shop and handing over her skis. There had to be others who weren't in his back pocket; others besides the Grangers who might be able to help her.

Quickly she changed and headed for the library. There had to be someone who would be interested in any flaws in the, oh, so white Potter Leisure Corporation.

There was.

It was called the Green Vermont Society.