DISCLAIMER: I own nothing – it all belongs to JK Rowling.

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It took the Gryffindor team a good fifteen minutes to disentangle themselves from the ecstatic crowd that had surrounded them. Hoarse after much delighted yelling, they set off to the hospital wing to see how Katie was doing. They found her awake, but rather sore.

"Did we win?" she demanded, wincing as she rubbed her head.

"We certainly did!" said Harry, grinning from ear to ear. "I got the Snitch about two minutes after you were carted off. Sorry it took us so long to get here, but we were a bit delayed by the rest of Gryffindor."

Leaning back contentedly against her pillows, Katie smiled happily. They sat with her for a bit longer, animatedly discussing the game and the success of the Gryffindor Braid Formation, until Madam Pomfrey came to throw them out.

"Off you go, you lot!" she said firmly. "Miss Bell will be fine once she's had a bit of sleep, but she won't be getting any of that while you're all here. Out!"

Heading back to the common-room and chattering like a flock of magpies, they spotted Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle lurking in the entrance hall. The Slytherins glared at them, and looking into Malfoy's furious grey eyes, Harry felt an alien flash of hate. Funny, he mused, automatically touching his forehead, my scar's not hurting. Then he realized what had just happened – it was what Lupin had warned him about what could happen with his Legilimency skills. I'm picking up Malfoy's emotions! he thought, amazed.

Feeling a bit vulnerable, Harry experienced an answering surge of dislike from somewhere close to him. Looking down, he found Ginny glaring at Malfoy.

"Well, Potty, you might have gotten clever with your tactics and you were lucky with the Snitch, but you've still got Mudbloods and blood traitors on your team," drawled Malfoy. "They're bound to let you down in the end – just you wait until our next game. We'll show you."

Harry was just about to open his mouth to respond angrily when Ginny put her hand on his arm. "Leave this to me," she whispered.

Sauntering over to Malfoy, she smiled disarmingly up at him. In a flash, she had transformed into a lioness, and with a leap, threw him against the wall. Yelling with fright, Crabbe and Goyle abandoned ship and disappeared towards their dungeon common-room. Malfoy, however, was petrified with fear. As she threw her head back and roared, he fainted.

Just as quickly, Ginny transformed back into herself and nudged Malfoy with her toe. "Out cold," she said, smiling. "He seems to have quite a delicate constitution."

Luna, Colin and Dennis were open-mouthed in shock. "Keep this to yourselves, OK?" Harry said, nudging Colin. "We don't want everyone knowing Ginny's an Animagus."

Stunned, they nodded silently. Ron was doubled over in hysterics, pointing at Malfoy. "That … that's even better than Malfoy, the Amazing Bouncing Ferret!" he spluttered. Harry grinned – he had to agree.

Suddenly, Professor McGonagall and Madam Hooch appeared around the corner. "And what is going on here?" said Professor McGonagall, frowning at Malfoy's prone form.

"Oh, Professor, I'm so glad you're here," said Ginny glibly. "Malfoy seems to have passed out – maybe he took a Bludger to the head during the game? We're quite worried about him."

Madam Hooch pointed her wand at Malfoy, and said: "Ennervate." Malfoy's eyelids fluttered, and before he opened his eyes fully he was pushing himself backwards until he was right up against the wall. He looked around frantically and cringed, mouthing soundlessly, when he saw Ginny.

"There's definitely something wrong with him," said Harry, feigning concern.

"Hmm," said Professor McGonagall suspiciously. "He certainly doesn't seem himself. Weasley, Creevey – help him to the hospital wing, please. Potter, come with me."

Ron and Colin picked Malfoy up and dragged him off, both looking disgusted with the chore. Malfoy kept staring backwards over his shoulder at Ginny.

"But Professor, I swear I didn't do anything to Malfoy," Harry objected, following the two teachers.

"I know, Potter – this is about something else," said Professor McGonagall briskly. "Come along. They're waiting."

"Who..." Harry started, but was silenced by the stern look he got from his Transfiguration teacher. After six years of taking lessons from her at Hogwarts, he knew when to keep his mouth shut.

Going into Professor McGonagall's office, Harry was surprised to find Professor Dumbledore seated there, along with two men he'd never seen before.

"Potter, this is Anthony Flintlock and Oswald Jones," said Professor McGonagall. Harry shook hands with both of them, and then looked inquiringly at her. "They're scouts for the England Quidditch team."

Harry's jaw dropped. "We were extremely impressed with your performance, Potter," said Flintlock. "We'd heard you were a world-class Seeker, so we asked Hogwarts to arrange some matches where we could get a look at your skills without you knowing about it. We often find that if we notify players of our presence they tend to fall apart, so we do it incognito these days."

Comprehension dawning, Harry stared at Professor McGonagall. "So that's why you arranged the friendlies!" he said. She nodded, smiling at him.

"We have a question for you," said Jones. "Where did you learn about that attacking formation? I hear you call it the Gryffindor Braid?"

Harry explained about watching Parvati plait her hair, and where the idea had come from. The two scouts exchanged looks. "Well, it usually takes years of professional Quidditch playing to be able to come up with a ploy like that, so that's very impressive," said Jones.

"Cutting to the chase, Potter, we'd like to consider you for a place in the England side," said Flintlock bluntly. "Obviously, you'd have to attend trials, but we think you've definitely got the right stuff to be a member of the national side."

Harry's mind went momentarily blank. Seeker for the England Quidditch team! This was more than he had ever dreamed of! He looked at Dumbledore, and found the headmaster watching him intently.

"Sir?" he asked quietly.

"It is your decision, Harry," said Dumbledore. "I can't help you with this one – you must decide which road you will take."

Harry walked over to the window and stared out at the deepening dusk. With leaden disappointment sinking into his heart, he knew what he had to do.

Harry took a deep breath, and then turned to face the scouts. "Thank you both – you have no idea how honoured I am to have been asked," he said softly. "But … I'm working on other things right now, things that I can't leave alone because they're too important. I'm sorry … but I can't do it."

They nodded. "I'm sorry to hear it lad, but Dumbledore has explained to us what you are doing," said Jones. "However, this won't be your last chance – we've seen you play, and we know your potential. There will be other opportunities, and if you change your mind, Professor McGonagall knows where to find us."

Flintlock nodded. "The next World Cup is in two years, Potter – there'll definitely be another shot at this for you before then."

They shook hands all round, and then Harry turned and left the office quickly. He didn't want them to see the agony of regret he knew was in his eyes. Harry stumbled blindly back to the Gryffindor common-room, barely aware of where he was going. He couldn't believe his dumb, rotten luck.

"Where have you been, young man?" said the Fat Lady reprovingly. "They're waiting for you in there!"

Harry groaned. He knew the whole of Gryffindor would be celebrating their win, and it was the last thing he felt like doing. Fifteen minutes ago, he'd have been in there, partying away with the rest of them. Now, he just wanted to find a deep hole to crawl into and die.

When he entered the common-room, he found that it was exactly as he had been dreading. The whole house was packed in there, and shrieks of delight echoed around the room when he appeared.

Trying to look happy, Harry started edging his way over to the stairs to the dormitory. Ron and Hermione cornered him at the doorway.

"What was that all about?" Ron asked, shoving a bottle of Butterbeer into his hand.

"Yes – Ron said McGonagall dragged you off," said Hermione worriedly. "You're not in trouble or anything, are you?"

"Nope," said Harry woodenly. "They just wanted me to meet the England Quidditch team scouts." Looking up at their incredulous faces, he blurted: "They offered me a shot at the Seeker position on the national side."

Ron let out a whoop and pulled Harry into a one-armed hug. "That's fantastic, mate! Absolutely bloody fantastic! Hear that, everyone? We've got a national Quidditch champ in the making right here!"

Hermione burst into tears of joy and threw herself at him. "Oh, Harry! That's wonderful!"

Roughly, he pushed them both away. "Don't get so excited," he said bitterly. "I had to turn them down, didn't I? Voldemort's still out there and I can't afford to spend my time not training to hunt him down. He wins again."

He could feel prickling behind his eyes, and pushed past them both, taking the stairs to the dormitory at a run. Rushing into his dorm, he threw himself onto his bed and pulled the red velvet curtains around his four-poster.

Taking his glasses off, he lay on his back with his arm across his eyes. He could hear the din from downstairs slowly abating, as the news of his refusal of the offer spread.

A few minutes later, he heard the door to the dormitory open. Lying very still, he willed whoever it was to go away.

"Harry?" said a soft voice.

"Not now, Ginny," he said, his voice muffled. "Please just leave me alone."

He heard the curtains open a little, and then felt the bed dip as she sat down on it.

"Not a chance," she said resolutely. "Not when you're like this."

Maybe, he thought, if he just ignored her, then she'd go away. He lay there silently, his arm still across his eyes, refusing to acknowledge her presence.

To Harry's irritation, he felt her settle even further onto the bed.

"Ginny, I appreciate your concern, but I really want to be on my own right now," he said, annoyed.

"Talk to me, Harry. Please?"

Harry brought his arm down and looked up into the soft brown eyes that were watching him so intensely. "Don't you get it?" he said angrily, feeling the need to lash out at someone – anyone. "Voldemort has always taken away every important thing to me – my parents, Sirius … and now, I can't even take a hold of this because it's my destiny to stop him. For once in my life, I've earned something because of what I can do – not because of who I am. And I can't have it. I hate my life, Ginny. You don't know how much."

"Do you hate all of it?" she said quietly, not looking at him.

Suddenly, Harry realized how close she was, and nerves took slowly took over his anger. "No," he said softly, reaching up to touch her cheek, his hand shaking slightly. "Not all of it …"

He gently tucked a stray lock of russet hair behind her ear, and then slowly pulled her head down until her lips met his.

Ten minutes later, somewhat breathless, Ginny said gently: "I think we should go downstairs, Harry – everyone wants to see you because of our win today. And I think Ron just might come barging in here to see what's going on if we don't show our faces quite soon."

Harry sat bolt upright. "Bloody hell," he said, running his hand through his disheveled hair. "Ron. He's going to take me apart – slowly and painfully – for kissing his baby sister."

Ginny laughed. "Don't worry about Ron," she said. "He's been trying to get us together for years, so I don't think he'll be too upset."

Harry goggled at her. "He what?" he spluttered.

Ginny shrugged, getting to her feet. "That's why he was so upset about me and Michael," she said truthfully. "He thought I should be with you."

Stunned by this piece of information, Harry gaped at her for a second. "That dark horse," he said. "So there is a lurking romantic under that hot-headed exterior."

"Yup," said Ginny cheerfully, taking his hand and pulling him upright. "Hermione just might be surprised by the hidden depths of Ronald Weasley."

Standing there, holding her hand, Harry felt like he'd been hit with a Jelly-Legs Jinx. He couldn't stop grinning. Suddenly, he realized he was still in his Quidditch robes. "Out, Weasley!" he said. "Let me just get changed and I'll come downstairs with you."

Two minutes later, dressed in jeans and the emerald-green Weasley sweater he had received last Christmas, he met Ginny on the stairs outside the dorm. Shyly, he took her hand and they went down to the common-room.

The scene they saw when they got there couldn't possibly have been any different from what it had been fifteen minutes early. People were standing around in groups, talking and whispering quietly to one another. Then Dennis Creevey looked up and saw Harry at the bottom of the stairs. Leaping to his feet, he started clapping.

The whole of Gryffindor house turned to see why, and then the applause erupted. Cheers and whistles from every corner nearly deafened Harry, and he turned in confusion to Ron.

"Why are they so happy?" he said, amazed. "Didn't you tell them I'm not doing it?"

"That's why, mate," said Ron, grinning broadly. "They're really proud of the way you've chosen to do the right thing – again. You're their hero!"

Looking down, Ron spotted Harry and Ginny's linked hands. For a second, he frowned.

"Look, Ron…" said Harry hurriedly, getting ready to launch into an explanation. What he was going to say, exactly, he wasn't sure, but even after what Ginny had said he wasn't entirely convinced that he wouldn't be ducking a sharp right hook in about five seconds.

He was amazed to see Ron smile at him, and clap him on the back. "About time," he said. "I thought I might have to step in and play cupid if you two didn't get on with it."

Flabbergasted, Harry just stared at him. Suddenly he started laughing. "You … play cupid?" he chuckled. "That's rich!"

For a moment Ron looked disconcerted, and his eyes shot sideways at Hermione. "Yeah, well … you know what I mean," he muttered.

"Hmm," said Ginny. "No comment."

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A/N: Please review and tell me how you think this is going!