Ginny thought she'd done rather well the last few days at avoiding Mr. Potter. Her heart had proven itself untrustworthy that night at the willow trees. And if she wasn't watchful, her mind would go back to the feeling of his body brushing against hers, his closeness as he leant into her, his fingers nearly intertwining around her own, the way it had all set her afire.

But she wouldn't allow her foolish heart to trap her in a lonely life. No, there would be other options, especially while she stayed with Ron and her future sister-in-law. Ginny would just have to hold her heart in check until she had chance to meet other gentlemen in Godric's Hollow. While the Potter's were certainly nothing like the Dursley's, Ginny knew a man who had traveled as much as Mr. Potter wouldn't be happy staying close to home.

A voice in her head suggested that maybe, if Mr. Potter was willing to throw the social norms to the wind for her brother, perhaps he wouldn't be opposed to letting a wife come along on his adventures. But Ginny knew better than to believe those wild notions. There were plenty of gentlemen that would lift their brothers, but they turned a blind eye to the plight of the women in their lives. Ginny knew better than to hope for anyone to bring her closer to her dreams.

But even with all her resolve, Ginny still found herself returning with Adair to where she had felt the closest to Mr. Potter, to the grove of weeping willow trees.

They were captivating, and something about the way their branches grew up, out, and then down was fascinating. She walked up to the same tree that Mr. Potter had led her to her first evening at Potter Manor and ran her hands across the hanging branches like the strings of a harp, imagining the music that would play if they were.

"Good afternoon, Miss Weasley."

Ginny spun to find Mr. Potter and his valet approaching.

"Mr. Potter," she curtsied and tried to hold on to her resolve to avoid him. But his smile and the intensity of his stare was pinning her to the ground beneath her and she couldn't have moved if her life depended upon the action.

He closed the distance between them and a part of Ginny's mind tried to find the words to excuse herself, but the part of her that wanted this, wanted Mr. Potter, simply dismissed it all and kept her rooted to her spot by the tree.

"I trust you're enjoying your stay?"

"Yes, thank you." Ginny finally managed to force her eyes down and she gained some of her resolve back. "I suppose I ought to return to the house."

He held out his arm to her, "May I accompany you?"

Ginny braced herself and took his arm, trying to cling to her resolve not to be swayed by her natural attraction to Mr. Potter.

It did her no good. The moment she touched his arm her mind was brought back to the moments of intimacy from that first night, both at the willows and at her door. And as her feelings on the matter rushed her in a whirlwind, she felt all logical thinking being caught up and thrown away from her present mind despite her best efforts to hold on for the sake of her future.

"Miss Weasley," Mr. Potter began to lead her back to his home, "You mentioned your interest in seeing the trifles I've brought back from Europe. I'd like very much to show them to you if your previous sentiments on the matter have not changed."

Ginny thought that if perhaps she could let go of his arm then maybe she could refuse him, or more precisely refuse herself. But with him so close, and her feelings flinging all sensical thought far from her mind, Ginny found herself wanting the contact, the time, the conversation, and most dangerously of all, him.

"I suppose I could spare a few moments," Ginny kept her eyes fixed on the grounds around them, mostly to assure herself she wasn't completely giving in to his spell.

"Would you have those few moments presently?"

Ginny bit her lip and nodded, forcing herself to keep her eyes away from his. "Yes, I would."

"Splendid," Mr. Potter sounded pleased, and perhaps a bit relieved, which only confirmed to Ginny that he was indeed hoping to court her. That confirmation only served to heighten her anxiety on the matter. She knew the importance of not encouraging his interest, but she was unable to do anything more than remind herself of it, for her interest in him would allow no other action but to follow Mr. Potter.

They walked in silence through the grounds and the house to a room on the ground level in the East wing.

"This is where my family keeps the trinkets we bring back, at least the ones that can't be planted or worn."

Ginny followed him into the room and looked with wide eyes at the treasures around her, sharing an astonished glance with Adair. Trinkets would be the last word she would use to describe what was kept in this expansive room. Statues made of beautiful green stone, marble, and blown glass. Wooden carvings ranging from gondolas to elephants. Paintings of Mr. Potter's grandfather, his father, and himself, garbed in the costumes of far-off countries. And so many other items Ginny couldn't have named if she tried.

"Which of all these are yours?"

Mr. Potter led her to one side of the room with tables covered in items small and large, aligned in rows, "This area hosts most of my finds."

"What is this?" She picked up one of two curious wooden disks that seemed to be a pair.

"They're from Spain, they make a clapping noise when you press them together." He picked up the second one and demonstrated for her.

Ginny smiled at the sound. "What are they used for?"

"The women dance and they hold these in their hands adding to the music with them."

"That must be a sight to behold." Ginny made the clapping noise and smiled.

"It was quite impressive," then he chuckled, "Though I must say not quite as captivating as yourself."

"Are you quizzing me, Mr. Potter?" Ginny set the little clapper down where it had been.

"Not at all Miss Weasley," He took her arm, "The comment was not made in jest."

Ginny didn't intend to look up at him. She had intended to keep her eyes on anything but him. But something about the way he spoke to her, the comforting, secure tone of his voice, it pulled her neck up to look at him as softly as if it had been his own hand to slide his fingers along the curve of her neck and under her chin to guide her eyes to his.

"Thank you."

He stared down at her, his face suddenly going unsure as he continued to look down at her, a small smile on his face.

"Was," her voice came out a breathless whisper and she cleared her throat, "Was there more you wanted to show me?"

Mr. Potter nodded but he didn't turn back to the table, instead, he shifted his arm dropping hers so that his hand could slide the length of her lower arm and hold her fingers in his.

Ginny felt her breathing grow labored and she couldn't manage to pull away from him.

"Miss Weasley," he stepped closer and Ginny realized that the dark had made this experience the first time less potent, for this time Ginny wondered if she might faint from her inability to draw a full breath.

"Yes, Mr. Potter?" Ginny could barely hear her own voice.

"Harry dear?"

Ginny pulled back with a gasp just as Mrs. Potter came walking in.

"Ah," she smiled brightly at Ginny, "I didn't mean to interrupt your tour of our family's collection. I'll only be a moment." She turned to Harry, "I just wanted to let you know that Miss Granger and her parents have agreed to join us for dinner tonight. I thought you'd be pleased."

"Thank you, Mother," Mr. Potter nodded, "I'm looking forward to it."

Mrs. Potter smiled, "Yes, well, I'll leave you to it then." She nodded to Ginny before walking out the door, leaving them alone with Adair and Harry's man.

And as Ginny looked at Harry, she knew she was not going to be able to pull away anymore. Her heart had won, but at the expense of all her dreams and most probably her future happiness as well.