Chapter 3

In an average sized house just on the outside edge of the area known as Kent, one of the two presences in the house stirred.  A man opened his eyes on the second floor, their color a brilliant green not matched by anything else on earth but a flawless emerald.  He shifted in the king-sized bed, the blanket sliding down to reveal broad shoulders and lean back, both lightly laced with muscle.  One arm moved from where it curled about the lithe body of a young woman with short, flaming red hair to reach up and brush back a head of wild black hair.  He then rolled out of the bed, grabbing a pair of blue jeans lying on the carpeted floor.

Dressed in only these, he left the bedroom and headed down the hall to the staircase, which spiraled down into the kitchen.  Padding across the faux marble tile, he went to the counter and started up the coffee machine.  Once it had started, he checked the clock above the refrigerator then headed for the front door.

"Good morning, Basil," he said cheerfully, opening the door on the postman.

Basil Whithers froze, mail in hand, then laughed and handed it to the man.

"I should suspect this by now."

"Quite right," said the man, taking the mail and flipping idly through it.  "All junk today?"

"Well," said Basil, "there's one that looks pretty important.  Got to be off now.  Say hello to the lady for me, Mr. Potter."

"I will," said Harry Potter, watching the man as he headed back for his motorbike.  He then turned and closed the door, heading back into the kitchen.

Ten minutes later when the coffee maker beeped, there was a knock at the door.  Harry looked up, the hand reaching for a coffee mug freezing in midair.  He turned and headed for the door, muttering, "Now who…"

Immediately the door was kicked violently open and a young woman swung in, gun in hand and aiming at Harry's bare chest.  He leaned against the doorframe between the kitchen and the main room, saying jovially, "Good morning, Inspector Fenn.  What brings you all the way out here to Kent?"

The woman lowered her gun slightly and growled, "Potter."  Her pale blue eyes blazed over the barrel of the gun.

"Yes, dear, Inspector, that would be me.  Coffee?"

"No," growled Fenn.  "Where were you last night, Potter?"

"Here," replied Harry.

"Anyone who can confirm that?"

"Inspector, aren't you a tad bit out of your district?"

Fenn let out a growl and shoved her gun into her shoulder rig.  She then stalked up to Harry and glared up at the six foot two man from five feet nothing, blue eyes flashing with all the fire in her spirit.

"My district is wherever you are, Potter," she spat.  "And one of these days you're going to mess up and I'm going to be there to slam your face into the pavement.  And I'll enjoy it."

"I have no doubt," said Harry, smiling.  "Your sure you don't want any coffee?"

Fenn scowled at him and said, "Fuck you, Potter."

"I'm sorry, Rachel, but I'm already taken.  And what would you're mother think of that language?"

"She'd think it's perfectly alright to use for crooks like you."  Fenn lifted a clenched fist and shook it in his face as she added, "And she'd probably think I should have shot you long ago."

"You did," said Harry matter-of-factly.  He touched an almost round scar on his left shoulder and continued, "This is your work, remember?  Went straight through and shattered the bone.  I have a cast for four months."

"Too bad it didn't shatter your black heart," snarled Fenn.

"I'm hurt."

Fenn gave Harry a rude hand gesture and stormed out, her coat flapping behind her.

"You owe me another door!" yelled Harry after her when he saw the doorknob hanging limply.

"Fuck you!"

Harry shook his head and closed the door as far as it would go, throwing the bolt to keep it shut.  As he headed back into the kitchen, he shook his head and muttered, "Women."

"What was that?" asked a voice from the table.  Ginny sat there wrapped in a bedsheet with a mug of steaming coffee clasped in her hands, brown eyes peering over it at him.

"Just commenting on Inspector Fenn, love," said Harry, bending to kiss her cheek as he headed for the coffee.

"She suspects us again?"

"The lovely Rachel suspects us of everything?"

"Lovely?" said Ginny, turning in her chair and arching her eyebrows.  "I hope you're not cheating on me."

"Of course not," admonished Harry, stirring sugar into his coffee.  He moved over to the table and sat down beside her, grinning as he said, "You'd shoot me."

"After I castrated you."

"But of course.  You do revenge oh-so-well."

"I hope that's not the only reason you adore me," quipped Ginny, lifting her mug to her lips.

Harry laughed around a swallow of coffee.

"Of course not, love.  You are a beautiful, enchanting, lovable, huggable, entrancingly dangerous woman."

Ginny smiled over her mug and said, "I learned from the best."

"Mmm," murmured Harry as he leaned over and kissed her cheek.  "But the student excels the teacher."

"I do try."

"I know."

"What's today's agenda?" asked Ginny, scooting her chair closer to him and turned so she could lean against him, tucking one lithe, bare leg up under her.

"Ahh," sighed Harry, wrapping an arm about her waist.  "Today, my beautiful vixen, we must go see our dear Benji."

"What about Shanks?" asked Ginny.

Harry's face turned stony for a moment then went back to the way it had been before, smiling and jovial.

"Ah, Shanks.  I think we should set Guy to watching him."

"Guy?  But he's the best…"

"I know," said Harry, taking a sip of coffee.  "But Shanks knows where that damned thing is and I want it."

"To destroy it, I hope," murmured Ginny.

Harry smiled down at her then cocked back his head and downed the rest of the coffee.

"Of course," he quipped.  "Now head upstairs and get ready.  Only I get to see you in a bedsheet."

Ginny smiled and leaned her head back, barely kissing his lower jaw.  She purred, "And I wouldn't have it any other way."  That said, she pulled away from him, sheet bundled about her, and headed back up the stairs, coffee in hand.

Harry rose after she was gone, putting his empty mug in the sink and peering out the window.  An engine roared from a few miles away and he frowned.  Generally only Ginny drove that fast and only when she was being chased, in a hurry, or pissed off.

And as the lovely lady was currently upstairs, it couldn't be her.  So what crazy person was driving around in that same wild fashion?

Harry frowned and rubbed his chin, idly scratching the stubble that had grown during the night.  He continued to look out the window until a warm, soft hand touched his bare back, causing him to turn and face its owner.

Ginny smiled up at him and ran her hand over his flat stomach, her fingers lingering on the long horizontal knife scar that ran across his navel.  She held up her other hand, which held one of his shirts and said, "I thought you might need this."  She herself was wearing one of his shirts, an old green sweater that was beginning to fray about the edges.

Harry took the shirt with a smile and said, "I need a shave."

"I think you look more dignified with it," purred Ginny, reaching up to caress his cheek.

Harry laid his hand over hers, looking down at her with utmost affection in his brilliant green eyes.  He softly said, "You only say that because you have to."

Ginny arched her eyebrows, her thumb rubbing his cheekbone as she said, "Really?"

"Really," confirmed Harry, closing his hand about hers.

"I think your lying."

"Really?" said Harry, arching an eyebrow slightly.

"Yep," declared Ginny, pulling away from him.  She smiled coyly and said, "Put on your shirt.  I'll be out in the garage."

Harry watched her as she turned and walked out of the kitchen.  His eyes trailed down to her shapely, blue jean covered legs, his mind drifting back to the first time he'd had those legs and that body all to himself.  A sappy smiled slide onto his features as he pulled the dark green t-shirt over his head then left the kitchen himself, grabbing a brown leather jacket off the coat rack by the door as he passed it.  He picked up the pair of boots sitting at the base of it as well.

Out in the garage, Ginny was fussing over the Mercedes, muttering about stupid cops and how they always seemed to damage her beloved car.  Harry slid his arms into the leather jacket as he caught the slowly closing door with her bare foot.  He held the string of the boots in his teeth as he did this, grabbing thing as soon as he had the jacket on.

"Problems, love?" he asked, dropping the left boot as he pulled on the right.

Ginny pulled out of the back seat and glared at him, her expression one of annoyance.  She waved a hand at the shattered window and said, "The bastards blew out most of the back window, so the whole lot of it'll have to be replaced.  Plus the taillight will have to be replaced again and you know we just got that fixed last week…"

"Easy, love, easy," interrupted Harry, stamping his foot into the left boot and tying it deftly fast.  He walked over to her and pulled her close, running his hand over her hair.

"I know you love the car, Gin, but if you keep ranting like that your going to blow one of your gaskets instead of one of its."

Ginny glared mildly at him and growled, "You're not making me feel any better."

"Mmm," said Harry, resting his chin on top of her head.  "But I know what you can do.  You go take the 'Cedes and go see Dorien about fixing it. I'll take the bike and go see Benji."

"Harry," admonished Ginny, pulling back slightly so she could look up at him.  "They pulled your bike license after that incident on the bridge."

Harry laughed and declared, "You are behind!  Love, that was only for six months.  It ran out two weeks ago."

"Oh.  I guess I am behind."

"Yes, you are."  Harry kissed her forehead and said, "Now get on with you and I'll pick you up at our café after I talk to Benji."

"Our café?" repeated Ginny.

"Yes.  You know, the place just two blocks up from Dorien's.  Where you met me."

"Oh.  That café."

"Yeah, that café."

"When?" asked Ginny as she fished the Mercedes' keys out of her back pocket.

Harry shrugged in response and sighed.

"However long it takes me to catch up with Benji."

"Okay.  I'll see you then."

"Mmm," murmured Harry, kissing her lips lightly before he turned and headed for the red Harley Davidson motorcycle parked on the other side of the garage behind a dark green BMW.  As he took the keys out of a little compartment built into the seat of the bike, Ginny walked over to the panel on the wall that opened the garage door.  The machinery groaned to life clanking as it pulled the metal door up.

Harry swung his leg over the motorcycle, putting the key in the ignition and turned it, sinking down onto the seat as the engine roared to life.  One the other side of the garage, Ginny got in the Mercedes and cranked it, sighing and leaning on the steering wheel as she watched the door go up.

After a moment more of waiting, Harry pulled up his feet, kicking up the kickstand as he did so.  His hands grabbed the handlebars as the motorcycle shot towards the door, which still wasn't open far enough for him to get through.  Ginny sat up abruptly in her car as, three feet form the halfway open door, Harry hauled the bike down onto its side and slid under the door, his head missing it by a few centimeters.

"Psycho!" she bellowed out the window as he pulled the bike back up then leaned down and waved at her before taking off down the driveway and into the road.

"Crazy man," muttered the redhead as she watched the door clank its way up.  "I don't know why I love him."  She pulled up the parking brake and yawned as the last bit of the door rolled up.  Then she slammed the car into first gear and floored the gas pedal, shifting into second as the car roared out onto the road.