Chapter One: The Imminent Return of Cho Chang
Harry sat on his bed and read and re-read the letter.
Dear Harry,
I FINALLY have some time off from work and I'm dying to get back to
England. How's life going in London? Are you enjoying living with
Ron Weasley? I wonder if he still hates me for what happened between us
in your fifth year. I hope not.
I was rather hoping we could get together over the summer, if you're
free. I'm sure you've been very busy with Auror training, but if you
can squeeze me in I'd really love to see you. And, if I may be so
bold, I also wouldn't mind picking up where we left off. I'm sure
you've had plenty of girls since then; that last picture of you that you sent me--wow. You look scrumptious!
Please write back and let me know your plans. I'll be coming back to the
U.K. in a month.
Love,
Cho
Harry groaned and fell back on his bed. Why? Why? Why? he wondered. Why did Cho have to return NOW? He'd been content to let her go, he thought he HAD let her go. The occasional note to say "hello" had been their only correspondence in well over a year. But this?
One sentence in the letter kept scrolling past his brain. "I'm sure you've had plenty of girls since then."
"Yeah, right," said Harry bitterly.
The truth was, Harry was pathetic with women. He'd had sex exactly twice in his life. Once with Susan, and she dumped him two weeks later, which only served to make Harry believe he was horrible at it. The second time--Harry groaned again--with Ginny Weasley. Ron's younger sister. THAT had been a bit of a joke.
He'd had a good time, certainly. Ginny was a very.athletic sex partner, to say the least. But he hadn't lasted very long, even wearing two condoms, and she'd disappeared before he woke up the next day. They stayed friends, of a sort, after that, and never mentioned what had happened. Ginny had always been friendly to him, even kind at times, but he couldn't help but think that--however much he'd enjoyed himself--he still hadn't been very good. For one thing he was clueless about girl's bodies. He didn't know the first thing about how to make a girl moan and quiver and beg. He LIKED girls' bodies, yes he did, and he very much liked touching a girl in those places that were usually covered up, but the problem was that once he did he tended to lose control of himself. It was horrible.
Ron and Hermione seemed to be very good at sex. True, they'd only had sex with each other, but after two and half years of dating they were still shagging like minks. Harry had long ago started wearing earplugs to bed--it was the only way he could get any sleep when Hermione stayed over--but the first few times he had listened to them. The first thing he noticed was that they seemed to go at it for HOURS. Harry wondered if Ron had charmed his equipment or something, because Ron seemed to be not only almost insatiable but had endless stamina.
The second thing he noticed was that Ron seemed to know very well what he was doing to Hermione, judging by the way she moaned and whimpered and screamed. Harry only stopped listening to them when he realized he wasn't getting any sleep and when he realized that there was something very disturbing about his two best friends in the world shagging like minks. He could only imagine what Ginny must think (Ginny and Hermione were roommates in a flat a few blocks away).
Since leaving Hogwarts, Harry had dated a little, but things never seemed to go anywhere. Girls would always tell him they'd write, and they never did. Harry had a lot of trouble talking to girls, too, which only made him resent his break-up with Susan even more. He'd never had trouble talking to her, but she HAD to go and dump him before even giving him a chance to get better in bed. Last he'd heard Susan had dumped Terry Boot, too, and had taken up with none other than Harry's arch-enemy, Draco Malfoy.
"Ugh," said Harry out loud, not wanting to think about Susan shagging that rat-faced prat.
He sat up and ran a hand through his untidy hair and a feeling of despair washed over him. It SHOULDN'T be like this, he told himself. He was Harry Potter! Famous Harry Potter, the bloke who'd beaten Lord Voldemort. He'd been captain of Quidditch in school. He was an Auror--one of the hardest, most challenging careers in the wizarding world--and one of the coolest. He was pretty good looking, too, he thought, even if he did wear glasses and have a lightning shaped scar on his forehead (he was glad it hadn't disappeared when he'd killed Voldemort).
Harry dressed pretty stylishly, too, thanks to the gobs and gobs of Galleons his dead parents had stashed away for him in Gringott's Bank. A good thing, too, because the training phase of the Auror career--three years--paid very little. Ron had only been able to make rent payments because his older brothers--the twins Fred and George--supplemented Ron's paltry income with generous allowances from the profits of their wildly successful joke shop.
So, Harry thought. I'm cute. I'm rich. I'm famous. I'm a natty dresser. And I can't get a girl to sleep with me. How nice.
And now Cho was coming back. And she wanted to see him. And she wanted to get together and try shagging again.
The last time he'd tried to get it on with Cho, it had ended with him losing control of himself--TWICE--before he even got anywhere near her goods. He supposed it ought to comfort him that she was willing, even enthusiastic, about giving him a second chance after such a humiliating performance the last time, but it didn't. It only filled him with dread.
"Bugger it," said Harry angrily, slamming the letter on his nighttable. It was late afternoon and he needed to get out and think. A coffee would do it. Or, better yet, an ice cream.
He pulled on jeans and a white, rather tightly fitted t-shirt and a pair of black dragonhide boots, then looked in the mirror. He had given up on his hair, and anyway, messy hair was all the rage among young men these days. He gave himself a once-over; he was lean and muscled from playing Quidditch and from the physical demands of his Auror training, and the t-shirt set off his tan and his flat, muscled stomach. But even knowing that he looked pretty good didn't cheer him up. "Prat," he muttered at the mirror. He grabbed his housekeys, a black leather jacket, and stomped out of the room.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Diagon Alley was busy, as usual. Harry walked slowly down the street, licking at his ice cream cone and pausing in front of Quality Quidditch Supplies. The latest Firebolt, the X3, had just come out. It was by far the greatest broom Harry'd ever laid eyes on, but he hadn't had much time to play Quidditch lately, and in any case, he wasn't sure he should be spending all sorts of money on a new broom when his older Firebolt was still so good.
"Hey, Harry." The female voice caught his attention and he turned around.
It was Ginny Weasley.
"H-hey," he said, his eyes widening just a bit. It had been a long time since Harry had seen her. "Wow. You--you look great."
"Thanks," said Ginny, smiling. "So do you."
WOW, thought Harry, did she look good. She was a bit taller than he'd last remembered. There were curves on her that he knew hadn't been there before. She was still athletic, lean and muscled from Quidditch, but her hips flared just enough and when did she get those breasts? Not too big, but round and lovely and very cuddly-looking. Harry forced himself not to stare. It didn't help that she was wearing one of those midriff baring shirts that exposed her smooth, taut tummy, or that she had a belly-button ring, which was the sexiest thing Harry had ever seen, or that her jeans were hugging her in all the right places.
She didn't seem to notice that he was checking her out, but hugged him.
"So, uh," Harry asked when she pulled away, "what are you doing here? I thought you were on the road."
Ginny played Chaser for Puddlemere United, with the former Gryffindor Keeper Oliver Wood.
"We're off this week, thank god," she said. "I've been on the road since we left Hogwarts--I barely had time to move in with Hermione, and Mum had to do all my unpacking and what. We play Ireland next weekend. Ron said you guys were going to come and see it."
"Definitely," said Harry.
"Uh, Harry," said Ginny, looking at him a bit funny.
"What?"
"Your ice cream cone, it's melting."
Harry looked down to see ice cream dripping all over his fingers.
"Right," said Harry, feeling really stupid as he took a napkin and wiped his hand clean. "I think I'll just throw this away, don't really want anymore of it."
He chucked the ice cream into the nearest wastepaper basket and turned back to Ginny.
"So, how are you?" Ginny asked, and they began to stroll down the Alley. "You must be relieved to finally get a break from training."
"Yeah," said Harry. "It's tough. We have to do all these tests once a month. They make us do all these drills, too, with spell-casting and such. And we're doing combat training, without wands. Kingsley Shacklebolt's teaching us that stuff. It's wild."
"So that's why you got so pumped up," said Ginny, grabbing Harry's bicep and giving it a playful squeeze.
"Uh, yeah," said Harry, feeling his face get hot and feeling a very embarrassing stirring in his trousers. He quickly thought of dead kittens. The itch in his trousers abated.
"What about your social life?" said Ginny. "Tell me it's more interesting than Ron's. He and Hermione are so bloody domestic these days. When they're not humping each other like dogs."
"Oh, you've heard them, too, I take it?" said Harry, smiling. Ginny and Hermione were room-mates in a flat a few blocks away from Harry and Ron.
"Unfortunately," said Ginny. "Do you have any idea how gross it is to hear your brother--oh, YUCK. I can't even talk about it without feeling sick."
Harry nodded, and looked down, suddenly feeling miserable again.
"Harry," said Ginny slowly. "What's the matter?"
"Nothing," said Harry.
"Harry," said Ginny, stopping in front of him and giving him a knowing look.
He looked at her. If there was one thing Ginny Weasley was very good at (apart from Quidditch and sex and telling very funny stories), it was seeing through deception. Harry had never been able to put anything past her. He sighed.
"Okay, I'll tell you, but can we please not talk about it here?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ginny's room was a surprisingly spare type of room that was nothing like her old, very girly bedroom in the Burrow. The walls were painted in varying shades of cool blue. Ginny had thrown several piles of clothes haphazardly into a hamper, and several pairs of jeans and some blouses were strewn over her desk chair. There were posters of her Quidditch team and a few photographs of her with her family and friends. Her bed was in the center of the room. She sat down on it and Harry sat down in her desk chair.
"So, what's up?" Ginny asked, leaning back against her headboard.
"Ginny, am I--am I bad in bed?" Harry asked, blushing very red.
"WHAT?" Ginny burst out, and she started to laugh.
"I'm being serious!" said Harry.
"Okay," said Ginny, and she immediately stopped laughing. "Why do you ask?"
"Because," said Harry miserably. "I got this letter. From Cho Chang. She's on holiday next month and she's coming back to England. She said she wants to see me. And, in her words, to 'pick up where we left off.'"
"Well, that's a good thing, right?" said Ginny. "I mean, you've always been a bit mad about her."
"Yeah," said Harry. "She's incredible. But--but you don't know what happened the last time I saw her."
"What happened?"
Harry swallowed. He wasn't sure just WHY he was talking to Ginny, of all people, about this very embarrassing subject, but for some reason she was the only person he'd ever met that he felt totally comfortable talking to, even about the most personal things imaginable. Stuff he couldn't tell Ron.
"It was a disaster," said Harry, his face so red he knew he resembled a large beet with black, messy hair. "I--I fell apart. Twice. Before--before we'd even gotten anywhere."
"Ah." Ginny nodded and looked away from him for a moment, considering.
"And," she said slowly, "you're worried about how you'll do when you see her again?"
"You could say that," said Harry glumly.
"I'm sure you'll be fine," said Ginny reassuringly. "I mean, it's been ages since then, you've had tons of experience--"
"I haven't," said Harry, feeling utterly wretched. "Y-you were the last girl."
Ginny sat back again, stunned. "R-really?"
"Yeah," said Harry. "I mean, it's not like I haven't tried, okay? But I'm pathetic with girls. I can't talk to them, let alone have sex with them."
"But surely you've--you've done SOME things since--"
"No," said Harry. "I've kissed a bunch of them after dates but they never write, and I never see them again."
"Oh." Ginny didn't seem to know what else to say.
"So," Harry said slowly. "That's why I need to know, if I'm any good, even just a little bit good, in bed."
Ginny regarded him through narrowed eyes. "Do you want the truth?"
Harry gulped. He wasn't sure he wanted the truth, but he figured Ginny would tell him anyway. He nodded.
"You're--well, you were pretty--poor," said Ginny carefully.
Harry felt like he'd just been punched in the solar plexus. He'd expected the truth, just not quite so harshly.
"Okay," he said, in a strangled voice.
"But that doesn't mean you can't get better!" Ginny said quickly. "You have a ton of potential. I mean it."
Harry felt a surge of hope. "I do?"
"Yeah," said Ginny. "You just need some help. Okay, a lot of help."
"Oh," said Harry, feeling a bit indignant now. "And where do you suggest I go to find that sort of help?"
Ginny sat back against the headboard of her bed again. She regarded him yet again, as though considering something.
"I'll help you," she said finally.
"You?" said Harry, stunned.
"Yeah," said Ginny, "unless you think I'm too repulsive to--"
"No way," said Harry at once. "You're not repulsive at all, you're--you're-- "
"Yeah, yeah," said Ginny, waving a hand at him.
"You'd REALLY help me, uh, do better?" said Harry.
"Sure," said Ginny. "Look, our Quidditch season's winding down, right? We've already been knocked out of contention for the World Cup. We win our next match, our season's done anyway. So I have a long holiday coming up. You're on holiday. What else do we have to do with ourselves, right?"
Harry stared at her. Once again he was just a little unnerved at how businesslike she could be when it came to sex. But the prospect of getting some help from Ginny in the lovemaking arena--particularly when Harry knew Ginny was very experienced at it and could tell him a whole lot of valuable stuff--was just too tempting to pass up.
"Okay," said Harry. "Yeah. I'll do it. Thanks a million, Gin. You're-- you're saving my life."
"Brilliant," said Ginny, grinning.
Harry sat on his bed and read and re-read the letter.
Dear Harry,
I FINALLY have some time off from work and I'm dying to get back to
England. How's life going in London? Are you enjoying living with
Ron Weasley? I wonder if he still hates me for what happened between us
in your fifth year. I hope not.
I was rather hoping we could get together over the summer, if you're
free. I'm sure you've been very busy with Auror training, but if you
can squeeze me in I'd really love to see you. And, if I may be so
bold, I also wouldn't mind picking up where we left off. I'm sure
you've had plenty of girls since then; that last picture of you that you sent me--wow. You look scrumptious!
Please write back and let me know your plans. I'll be coming back to the
U.K. in a month.
Love,
Cho
Harry groaned and fell back on his bed. Why? Why? Why? he wondered. Why did Cho have to return NOW? He'd been content to let her go, he thought he HAD let her go. The occasional note to say "hello" had been their only correspondence in well over a year. But this?
One sentence in the letter kept scrolling past his brain. "I'm sure you've had plenty of girls since then."
"Yeah, right," said Harry bitterly.
The truth was, Harry was pathetic with women. He'd had sex exactly twice in his life. Once with Susan, and she dumped him two weeks later, which only served to make Harry believe he was horrible at it. The second time--Harry groaned again--with Ginny Weasley. Ron's younger sister. THAT had been a bit of a joke.
He'd had a good time, certainly. Ginny was a very.athletic sex partner, to say the least. But he hadn't lasted very long, even wearing two condoms, and she'd disappeared before he woke up the next day. They stayed friends, of a sort, after that, and never mentioned what had happened. Ginny had always been friendly to him, even kind at times, but he couldn't help but think that--however much he'd enjoyed himself--he still hadn't been very good. For one thing he was clueless about girl's bodies. He didn't know the first thing about how to make a girl moan and quiver and beg. He LIKED girls' bodies, yes he did, and he very much liked touching a girl in those places that were usually covered up, but the problem was that once he did he tended to lose control of himself. It was horrible.
Ron and Hermione seemed to be very good at sex. True, they'd only had sex with each other, but after two and half years of dating they were still shagging like minks. Harry had long ago started wearing earplugs to bed--it was the only way he could get any sleep when Hermione stayed over--but the first few times he had listened to them. The first thing he noticed was that they seemed to go at it for HOURS. Harry wondered if Ron had charmed his equipment or something, because Ron seemed to be not only almost insatiable but had endless stamina.
The second thing he noticed was that Ron seemed to know very well what he was doing to Hermione, judging by the way she moaned and whimpered and screamed. Harry only stopped listening to them when he realized he wasn't getting any sleep and when he realized that there was something very disturbing about his two best friends in the world shagging like minks. He could only imagine what Ginny must think (Ginny and Hermione were roommates in a flat a few blocks away).
Since leaving Hogwarts, Harry had dated a little, but things never seemed to go anywhere. Girls would always tell him they'd write, and they never did. Harry had a lot of trouble talking to girls, too, which only made him resent his break-up with Susan even more. He'd never had trouble talking to her, but she HAD to go and dump him before even giving him a chance to get better in bed. Last he'd heard Susan had dumped Terry Boot, too, and had taken up with none other than Harry's arch-enemy, Draco Malfoy.
"Ugh," said Harry out loud, not wanting to think about Susan shagging that rat-faced prat.
He sat up and ran a hand through his untidy hair and a feeling of despair washed over him. It SHOULDN'T be like this, he told himself. He was Harry Potter! Famous Harry Potter, the bloke who'd beaten Lord Voldemort. He'd been captain of Quidditch in school. He was an Auror--one of the hardest, most challenging careers in the wizarding world--and one of the coolest. He was pretty good looking, too, he thought, even if he did wear glasses and have a lightning shaped scar on his forehead (he was glad it hadn't disappeared when he'd killed Voldemort).
Harry dressed pretty stylishly, too, thanks to the gobs and gobs of Galleons his dead parents had stashed away for him in Gringott's Bank. A good thing, too, because the training phase of the Auror career--three years--paid very little. Ron had only been able to make rent payments because his older brothers--the twins Fred and George--supplemented Ron's paltry income with generous allowances from the profits of their wildly successful joke shop.
So, Harry thought. I'm cute. I'm rich. I'm famous. I'm a natty dresser. And I can't get a girl to sleep with me. How nice.
And now Cho was coming back. And she wanted to see him. And she wanted to get together and try shagging again.
The last time he'd tried to get it on with Cho, it had ended with him losing control of himself--TWICE--before he even got anywhere near her goods. He supposed it ought to comfort him that she was willing, even enthusiastic, about giving him a second chance after such a humiliating performance the last time, but it didn't. It only filled him with dread.
"Bugger it," said Harry angrily, slamming the letter on his nighttable. It was late afternoon and he needed to get out and think. A coffee would do it. Or, better yet, an ice cream.
He pulled on jeans and a white, rather tightly fitted t-shirt and a pair of black dragonhide boots, then looked in the mirror. He had given up on his hair, and anyway, messy hair was all the rage among young men these days. He gave himself a once-over; he was lean and muscled from playing Quidditch and from the physical demands of his Auror training, and the t-shirt set off his tan and his flat, muscled stomach. But even knowing that he looked pretty good didn't cheer him up. "Prat," he muttered at the mirror. He grabbed his housekeys, a black leather jacket, and stomped out of the room.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Diagon Alley was busy, as usual. Harry walked slowly down the street, licking at his ice cream cone and pausing in front of Quality Quidditch Supplies. The latest Firebolt, the X3, had just come out. It was by far the greatest broom Harry'd ever laid eyes on, but he hadn't had much time to play Quidditch lately, and in any case, he wasn't sure he should be spending all sorts of money on a new broom when his older Firebolt was still so good.
"Hey, Harry." The female voice caught his attention and he turned around.
It was Ginny Weasley.
"H-hey," he said, his eyes widening just a bit. It had been a long time since Harry had seen her. "Wow. You--you look great."
"Thanks," said Ginny, smiling. "So do you."
WOW, thought Harry, did she look good. She was a bit taller than he'd last remembered. There were curves on her that he knew hadn't been there before. She was still athletic, lean and muscled from Quidditch, but her hips flared just enough and when did she get those breasts? Not too big, but round and lovely and very cuddly-looking. Harry forced himself not to stare. It didn't help that she was wearing one of those midriff baring shirts that exposed her smooth, taut tummy, or that she had a belly-button ring, which was the sexiest thing Harry had ever seen, or that her jeans were hugging her in all the right places.
She didn't seem to notice that he was checking her out, but hugged him.
"So, uh," Harry asked when she pulled away, "what are you doing here? I thought you were on the road."
Ginny played Chaser for Puddlemere United, with the former Gryffindor Keeper Oliver Wood.
"We're off this week, thank god," she said. "I've been on the road since we left Hogwarts--I barely had time to move in with Hermione, and Mum had to do all my unpacking and what. We play Ireland next weekend. Ron said you guys were going to come and see it."
"Definitely," said Harry.
"Uh, Harry," said Ginny, looking at him a bit funny.
"What?"
"Your ice cream cone, it's melting."
Harry looked down to see ice cream dripping all over his fingers.
"Right," said Harry, feeling really stupid as he took a napkin and wiped his hand clean. "I think I'll just throw this away, don't really want anymore of it."
He chucked the ice cream into the nearest wastepaper basket and turned back to Ginny.
"So, how are you?" Ginny asked, and they began to stroll down the Alley. "You must be relieved to finally get a break from training."
"Yeah," said Harry. "It's tough. We have to do all these tests once a month. They make us do all these drills, too, with spell-casting and such. And we're doing combat training, without wands. Kingsley Shacklebolt's teaching us that stuff. It's wild."
"So that's why you got so pumped up," said Ginny, grabbing Harry's bicep and giving it a playful squeeze.
"Uh, yeah," said Harry, feeling his face get hot and feeling a very embarrassing stirring in his trousers. He quickly thought of dead kittens. The itch in his trousers abated.
"What about your social life?" said Ginny. "Tell me it's more interesting than Ron's. He and Hermione are so bloody domestic these days. When they're not humping each other like dogs."
"Oh, you've heard them, too, I take it?" said Harry, smiling. Ginny and Hermione were room-mates in a flat a few blocks away from Harry and Ron.
"Unfortunately," said Ginny. "Do you have any idea how gross it is to hear your brother--oh, YUCK. I can't even talk about it without feeling sick."
Harry nodded, and looked down, suddenly feeling miserable again.
"Harry," said Ginny slowly. "What's the matter?"
"Nothing," said Harry.
"Harry," said Ginny, stopping in front of him and giving him a knowing look.
He looked at her. If there was one thing Ginny Weasley was very good at (apart from Quidditch and sex and telling very funny stories), it was seeing through deception. Harry had never been able to put anything past her. He sighed.
"Okay, I'll tell you, but can we please not talk about it here?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ginny's room was a surprisingly spare type of room that was nothing like her old, very girly bedroom in the Burrow. The walls were painted in varying shades of cool blue. Ginny had thrown several piles of clothes haphazardly into a hamper, and several pairs of jeans and some blouses were strewn over her desk chair. There were posters of her Quidditch team and a few photographs of her with her family and friends. Her bed was in the center of the room. She sat down on it and Harry sat down in her desk chair.
"So, what's up?" Ginny asked, leaning back against her headboard.
"Ginny, am I--am I bad in bed?" Harry asked, blushing very red.
"WHAT?" Ginny burst out, and she started to laugh.
"I'm being serious!" said Harry.
"Okay," said Ginny, and she immediately stopped laughing. "Why do you ask?"
"Because," said Harry miserably. "I got this letter. From Cho Chang. She's on holiday next month and she's coming back to England. She said she wants to see me. And, in her words, to 'pick up where we left off.'"
"Well, that's a good thing, right?" said Ginny. "I mean, you've always been a bit mad about her."
"Yeah," said Harry. "She's incredible. But--but you don't know what happened the last time I saw her."
"What happened?"
Harry swallowed. He wasn't sure just WHY he was talking to Ginny, of all people, about this very embarrassing subject, but for some reason she was the only person he'd ever met that he felt totally comfortable talking to, even about the most personal things imaginable. Stuff he couldn't tell Ron.
"It was a disaster," said Harry, his face so red he knew he resembled a large beet with black, messy hair. "I--I fell apart. Twice. Before--before we'd even gotten anywhere."
"Ah." Ginny nodded and looked away from him for a moment, considering.
"And," she said slowly, "you're worried about how you'll do when you see her again?"
"You could say that," said Harry glumly.
"I'm sure you'll be fine," said Ginny reassuringly. "I mean, it's been ages since then, you've had tons of experience--"
"I haven't," said Harry, feeling utterly wretched. "Y-you were the last girl."
Ginny sat back again, stunned. "R-really?"
"Yeah," said Harry. "I mean, it's not like I haven't tried, okay? But I'm pathetic with girls. I can't talk to them, let alone have sex with them."
"But surely you've--you've done SOME things since--"
"No," said Harry. "I've kissed a bunch of them after dates but they never write, and I never see them again."
"Oh." Ginny didn't seem to know what else to say.
"So," Harry said slowly. "That's why I need to know, if I'm any good, even just a little bit good, in bed."
Ginny regarded him through narrowed eyes. "Do you want the truth?"
Harry gulped. He wasn't sure he wanted the truth, but he figured Ginny would tell him anyway. He nodded.
"You're--well, you were pretty--poor," said Ginny carefully.
Harry felt like he'd just been punched in the solar plexus. He'd expected the truth, just not quite so harshly.
"Okay," he said, in a strangled voice.
"But that doesn't mean you can't get better!" Ginny said quickly. "You have a ton of potential. I mean it."
Harry felt a surge of hope. "I do?"
"Yeah," said Ginny. "You just need some help. Okay, a lot of help."
"Oh," said Harry, feeling a bit indignant now. "And where do you suggest I go to find that sort of help?"
Ginny sat back against the headboard of her bed again. She regarded him yet again, as though considering something.
"I'll help you," she said finally.
"You?" said Harry, stunned.
"Yeah," said Ginny, "unless you think I'm too repulsive to--"
"No way," said Harry at once. "You're not repulsive at all, you're--you're-- "
"Yeah, yeah," said Ginny, waving a hand at him.
"You'd REALLY help me, uh, do better?" said Harry.
"Sure," said Ginny. "Look, our Quidditch season's winding down, right? We've already been knocked out of contention for the World Cup. We win our next match, our season's done anyway. So I have a long holiday coming up. You're on holiday. What else do we have to do with ourselves, right?"
Harry stared at her. Once again he was just a little unnerved at how businesslike she could be when it came to sex. But the prospect of getting some help from Ginny in the lovemaking arena--particularly when Harry knew Ginny was very experienced at it and could tell him a whole lot of valuable stuff--was just too tempting to pass up.
"Okay," said Harry. "Yeah. I'll do it. Thanks a million, Gin. You're-- you're saving my life."
"Brilliant," said Ginny, grinning.
