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 27

Ginny pushed open the door and switched on the light. "Well, this is home. For the moment anyway."

Harry looked around. There were no photographs on the shelves. No sentimental-value only knick-knacks, nothing.

"You want coffee, chocolate, or something stronger?" she asked, slipping off her chocolate brown frock coat. His eyes strayed towards her, unable to look away. Her dress shimmered pale gold in the light. Cut low and straight across the top, it revealed the tops of the creamy orbs of her breasts. Her hair cascaded over her naked shoulders like red silk. Her lips were gently red and totally kissable. And those incredibly sherry eyes… he realised with a start that she was waiting for him to reply, watching him with a slight puzzled expression.

"I'll have coffee, if it's not too much trouble."

"Nothing's too much trouble for you," she purred, and turned to the kitchen. He grimaced ruefully. She'd been flirting with him all evening. Stroking his hand on the table-top. Gazing at him through the candlelight. If it hadn't been affecting him like a force of ten hurricanes all night, it would have been laughable. As a seductress, her inexperience should have made her hopeless. Except that he'd wanted to be seduced. He murmured a curse under his breath. Again he looked around. The room held no clues at all to the personality of the real Ginevra Raven/Weasley. So why did he feel as if he knew her as well as he knew his own soul?

"Milk, one sugar, right?"

He turned and accepted the mug she handed over. "Hum… Delicious…" e purred, letting is voice drop suggestively and holding her gaze with his own. If she wanted to play seductress, why not give her a helping hand? The air around them became suddenly electric-still, crackling, waiting to dish out the volts. She took a small step towards him, her lips parting just slightly… and the telephone rang.

She jumped. "I'd better answer it," she said apologetically, thinking it was the man from the Green Vermont Society calling her back.

It wasn't.

"Hello? Ginevra Raven?"

She recognised the voice immediately, of course. So warm and familiar and so very, very good to hear. Unknowingly her face softened incredibly, and Harry, on the verge, of looking away, suddenly found himself staring at her. "Ron?" she said. "How did you know where to find me?"

"It wasn't too hard to guess what you were up to," Ron's voice said gently and she felt herself blush guiltily.

"I know. I'm sorry left without saying goodbye but I thought the note I left would stop you worrying."

"It didn't. I left for New York as soon as I could. But I'll be in Stowe tomorrow."

"Oh, that's wonderful. Tell me when your train gets here and I'll meet you at the station. I've missed you," she said softly.

"I've missed you too," he said gruffly. "And Ginevra… I'm bringing someone with me. Someone… I hope will agree to marry me when I pluck up the nerve to ask her."

"Marry you?" Ginevra breathed, stunned, and sank down onto the nearest chair. A few yards away, Harry stiffened. Some of the colour drained away beneath his healthy tan, and the mug of coffee in his hand began to shake.

"Yes. I… I really love her. Ginevra," Ron said, his voice sounding oddly strained. She frowned, sensing instinctively that Ron was uncomfortable and worried. "There's something else. I wanted to wait till I got into town and spoke to you face to face, but I have a problem and I don't think I have the time," he said, his voice sounding more and more strained with each word he uttered. "Tell me, had Leslie Granger made an offer for the farm you bought?"

"How did you know?" she gasped. "Yes, he has. I'm holding onto it. I wanted to wait…" and make Harry Potter miserable, is what she had intended to say, but just in time realised that he was still in the room. She glanced at him, her whole body going cold at the look in his eyes. They looked like they were glowing and almost murderous. She blinked and looked away again.

"Good," Ron said briskly, and with relief. "Ginevra, I want you to hold off selling the farm until I get there with Hermione. Hermione Granger," he added, his voice softening on the name, and suddenly she knew who he was in love with.

"Oh, Ron," she said, her voice confused and happy and angry and frightened.

"I know," he said simply. "Ginevra, I have to explain things. They're very difficult and complicated and… I need your help. I know that's not fair and that I should be the one helping you. Believe me, that's what I came to America to do. That's why I got a job at Granger. But things… got out of control. Can you understand?"

Ginny glanced across at Harry. He was staring out the window, his face in taut profile. He looked impossibly handsome, and pulsing with some kind of animal anger. Her nipples tightened thrusting against the satin of her dress, and her knees began to impersonate jelly. She nodded. "Oh, yes. Yes, Ron, I understand."

She heard him sigh in relief. "You'll wait until we get there then?"

"Of course I'll wait for you," she said gently.

"I love you Gin Weasley." Ron said softly.

"I lover you, too," she whispered, but not quite softly enough for Harry not to have heard. "Bye, see you tomorrow." She hung up.

Harry stared into his coffee. The thought of another man making love to her, listening to her voice say 'I love you' made him want to commit murder. Hers. He slowly stood up, and as he did so, she saw his keys fall out of his jacket pocket on to the chair. "You've lost your "

"Who was that on the phone?" his voice cracked like a whip. Suddenly, Ginny sensed the raw fury emanating from him and felt a sudden shaft of joy lance through her.

He was jealous!

She shrugged. "Oh, someone I know from back home."

"Is he your lover?" he asked bluntly, and she gasped.

"That's none of your business!"

Harry smiled, a hard, cold, mocking smile. "It isn't? I rather thought it was. But, if you say it isn't, then I guess I've been reading my signals wrong. So I'll say goodnight. Or rather, goodbye." His voice was Artic cold. He turned to walk to the door and Ginny could see her revenge going with him.

"No! wait." She ran towards him.

Harry stopped. Ahh. He didn't think she'd be able to let go of her hate. At the moment it was the only thing he had going for him. "I want to kill you for what you've done to me," he gritted angrily, spinning suddenly on his heel and reaching out for her. She barely had time to draw breath before his lips were on hers, hot and crushing, his tongue darting into her unprepared mouth and making her collapse against him with a small sighing moan. Instantly his hands moved around her, one on the small of her back, the other on the back of her head, holding her lips locked to his. Slowly his hand moved up from her back to her bare shoulders, his fingers caressing the sensitive hollows between her shoulder blades, stroking and exploring, sending line after line of tingle down her back and to her breasts.

Slowly he lifted his head from hers, his eyes glittering like electric ice. "Was he your lover Ginevra Raven?"

Ginny shook her head, no thought of tormenting him even entering her head. "No. No."

He believed her. He couldn't have said why, but he just knew that she spoke the truth, and the relief made his eyes flare into flame once more. Again his dipped his head to kiss her, this time one hand cupping one breast in his palm as his other hand encircled her, clamping the length of her body to him. Ginny groaned, her nipple bursting into hardened life under the pressure of his hand. Ron was forgotten. Hate was forgotten. Justice and revenge never existed.

There was only his mouth on hers, his hands on her body.

Finally he straightened, satisfied. He felt light-headed with relief, then suddenly cold, as if he'd been drunk and had a gallon of ice water thrown over him.

He loved her.

And not only that, he was in love with her.

And she wanted to cut out his heart and serve it up on a sliver platter. He backed away just a step, his eyes narrowing. He had to think. Get out of her dangerous, magnetic orbit before he burnt up like a meteor, and think, dammit. "Goodnight Ginny," he said softly. "I'll see you tomorrow."

He turned and left. She stared blankly at the door for a second, and then turned back, spotting his keys on the chair, she'd forgotten them. A cool, calm voice that found herself hating began to clamour inside her head. Grimly she removed the key labelled 'hotel office'. Then opened the door and ran after him.

He took them. "Thanks. You'd better get back in. it's freezing out here tonight." He added a wry note in his voice. Freezing didn't quite cut it for what he felt deep in his marrow. He nodded and went back inside, like a marionette being pulled by an invisible string. Slowly, she picked up the key. She would search his office. Find some evidence that she could use against him. The Green Vermont Society would help. They had been most interested when she had called on them that morning. If she could find proof of environmentally damaging policies by Potter Leisure, it would be a start. She lifted the key to her mouth, where his lips had so recently touched hers. It felt cold; slowly she slid down the wooden door, tears rolling down her cheeks.

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Honey Potter stepped of the Montrealer and dumped her suitcase on the station platform. She was home from college for the Christmas break and had decided to spend it at her brother's hotel. I'll probably see more of him there she thought with a roll in her eye. She was tall, just twenty and pretty with long, curly chocolate brown hair and sparkling pea green eyes.

"You look cold beautiful. You need a lift?"

the accent she couldn't place, and she spun around, just a little nervously in its direction. A car had pulled up at the kerb, and leaning out of the window was one of the most handsome men she'd ever seen. Blond, square-jawed and blue eyes.

"Thank you, no," she said cautiously.

The man smiled wryly. "I understand. Perhaps we shall meet in better circumstances later, beautiful," Michael said, running his eyes over her. "I'm an instructor here," he offered the information casually. "Please feel free to look me up. My name is Michael. Everyone knows me here," he added, and waved cheerily as he pulled away.

Honey waved back, vowing too look him up. This looked as if it had the makings of a wonderful Christmas vacation!

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It was six thirty in the morning, the first day of December, when Ginny let herself into Harry's office and began searching it. She walked to the nearest filing cabinet. It was locked. Heaving a sigh, she went to his desk, searching for a key. "Damn, where is it?"

"Where's what?"

She jumped out of her skin at the sound of his mocking voice and when he flicked the switch, flooding the room with light, she was already backing away from him, her mind slowly kicking back into life. "What are you doing here so early?" she finally managed to ask, as he walked through the doorway and closed the door behind him with a soft, ominous, click. "How did you know I'd be here?" her voice wavered weakly.

He smiled bleakly. "When you gave me back my keys, minus one, I had a fair idea."

Ginny let out a long, shallow, panicky breath. "I suppose you're wondering what I'm doing here then?" she asked desperately stalling time. An excuse. There had to be a reasonable, valid excuse, if only she could think of it.

But Harry once again surprised her. "No. I know full well what you're doing here." He carried a folder to his desk and slumped into a chair. It had been a long hard night. "You're looking for something incriminating. Something… what? Illegal perhaps? Potentially scandalous. Something to feed to the press?"

Ginny's mouth fell open. "How did you know?"

Harry smiled. "Oh, Ginevra Raven. Or Gin Weasley. I suppose I should say…" he paused, watching her go deadly pale. "Oh yes, I know who you are."

"When?" she croaked.

"from the first moment I saw your eyes." He said matter-of-factly. He wouldn't have thought it possible but she paled even further.

"So soon?" she whispered, appalled.

He nodded. "So soon," he agreed simply.

"So all this time…" she trailed off.

"Yes." He nodded grimly, but when he leaned across the desk towards her, it was not punishing her that was on his mind. "I know you blame me for losing Ravenheights," he began gently, "But if you could see that I've done with the place…"

"It's not just Ravenheights," she said quickly, not liking the way her heart leapt with treacherous hope. She so wanted to believe him. "My father…" she began, desperately, summoning up all the old bitterness.

He held up his hand. "I know about your father," he said, surprising her even more. And with that he slowly pushed the folder over the desk towards her.

She stared at it as if it was a coiled cobra. "What's that?"

"Read it. Or are you afraid to?" he asked gently.

Angrily, she grabbed the folder. It was all there. The slow, inexorable slide to ruin for Ravenheights that had nothing to do with Potter Leisure. More horrifically, the slow disintegration of Arthur Weasley's health. He'd had the heart condition that had finally killed him for years. Years! She felt something hot on her face and realised it was her tears. Silently she closed the folder. She felt arms move around her and turned her face into a warm, hard shoulder. "He never told me," she cried, her voice choked with pain and guilt. "Id I'd have known I'd have made him leave Rav-Ravenheights," she sobbed.

"I know. I know you would have," he murmured against her hair, kissing her temple gently. "It wasn't your fault Ginny, believe me. But I had to make you understand. If we're to stand any chance at all, you have to see things as they really were. I love you, Ginny Weasley," he said into her wide, shocked beautiful tiger eyes.

"But Katy…" she said, and stopped. Katy. The loss of Ravenheights and her father might not be his fault, but Katy… Katy had needed a home, and this man had taken it away. Now Katy was dead…

Harry sighed, holding her close, his eyes closed. It felt so good to just hold her and not have to worry constantly about her ulterior motives, or his own strategy. Last night he'd come to the conclusion that love, not matter how complicated or unwelcome, was something so rare that it deserved a chance to live and grow. Besides, he knew he had to save her from herself, before her hatred consumed and destroyed her.

Ginny slowly sniffed away her tears, and said tentatively. "You love me? Really?"

He smiled and nodded. "Yes. I really, really love you."

Slowly Ginny closed her eyes. She was too tired, too numb, too shocked to think straight now. He loved her. But what could that matter? How could she let it matter? She had to remember her promise to Katy. Oh, but he loved her! The pain of it made her shudder.

"It's alright now, Ginny," he said softly, holding her close. "It'll be alright, I promise," he vowed.

Grimly, full of misery, she nodded. Yes, she believed his promise, because she believed in promises. She'd made one of her own to her sister's grave. And promises had to be kept. Now matter what the cost.