A/n:  ::muah:: thanks all, for the excellent praise!  I know this story is quite long—This is only my second H/G fanfic—and I'd like to thank everyone that's been there from the start (and those who have taken the time to catch up!)

Reviewer Quotes:
           
            I think that you can now make money off of 'Eau de Ginny' perfume cause you have captured her pure essence…she didn't fall straight into Harry's arms like most people tend to do…and you didn't have her become a girl who desperately pines after the boy she loves.
                        --Rayah Papaya

            It's like you can taste the love between the two of them. It's raw and passionate and right there- the way it should be…Most make Ginny simply Ron's brother or Harry's lover, but not you.
                        --Padfootlover719

C H A P T E R  F O U R T E E N

            "HANKY PANKY! HANKY PANKY—I WILL NOT HAVE IT!"
            A yell, a thud, a wrestling of cloth, then—
            "MS. WEASLEY, WHAT IN MERLIN'S NAME WERE YOU THINKING?"
            "Professor, I—" Ginny pleaded.
            "AND YOU, POTTER! I WOULD HAVE THOUGHT YOU HAD MORE SENSE THAN THIS!"
            "Professor, we didn't—" Harry began.
            "DID YOU EVEN STOP TO THINK THE RISKS YOU'RE RUNNING? THE DAMAGE THIS COULD CAUSE? THE—"
            "What do you mean, the risks?"  Ginny cut in.  A look of dawning crossed her face, only to be replaced by a very dirty glare.  "Are you saying he can't—?"  
            "YES, MS. WEASLEY THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT I'M SAYING!" roared McGonagall, outraged not only by the interruption, but by the location of her two pupils this morning. 
           
            Harry stared at both of them from the ground, still tangled in his bed sheets.  He was absolutely mystified with the entire discussion. 
           
            "YOU BOTH SHOULD HAVE LEARNED BY EXPERIENCE—THE CHAMBER, TOM RIDDLE—POTTER'S ALREADY DRAGGED ENOUGH PEOPLE INTO DANGER, AND WE DON'T NEED ANOTHER ADDED TO THE QUEUE!" 

            Professor McGonagall had wanted to say this for a very long time, it seemed.  She was completely beside herself—hands clenched, nostrils flared, patches of fury upon her cheeks—nevertheless, Ginny continued to glower from her seat on the bed. 

            Finally catching Harry's befuddled look, McGonagall pointed a shaky finger at him and said in a strained tone, "I forbid you to love her, Potter."

            It was as if someone had punched him in the stomach.  The professor turned her back on them. 

            "I shall start the fire.  You are going back to Grimmauld Place."

            She slammed the door.  Ginny stared blankly at the wall, fists grasping the sheets.  Harry ran his hands through his hair in frustration.  Could McGonagall really do that?  Forbid him to love?  And what if she told the Weasleys?

            He bustled around the room furiously, chucking things into his trunk. So he dragged people into danger, did he? 
           
            Ginny was still sitting on the bed, her knees tucked in to her chest.  Harry gave the dormitory one last sweep and sat next to her.

            "Hey, Ginny, It'll be okay.  I don't care what McGonagall says, she can't forbid me from loving you." 

            The sparse hairs on Ginny's neck prickled.  "I'm going to go pack," she said suddenly, rushing out the door. 

Something very odd was going on…

---

            The fire in the Gryffindor common room was bursting green flames, waiting for its passengers.  McGonagall, even now fuming, looked as though she could have breathed it there herself.  Harry helped Ginny lift her trunk into the fireplace and watched her go. 

            He turned quickly, seized his wand from his pocket, and pointed it at the professor.  Before she could react, Harry had cried, "Obliviate!"  Whipping the wand away, he spoke in a clear, strong voice. 

            "Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley were never found in the boys' dormitory.  Harry finished his Apparition Training, Ginny her filing, and left for Grimmauld Place on 7th August." 

            McGonagall nodded vaguely.  Harry stepped into the flames and felt a vindictive pleasure.

---

            "You what?"  Ginny cried, her voice echoing around the kitchen of Grimmauld Place. 
            "It's all for the best, Ginny," Harry whispered, keen not to be overheard. "Now she won't remember finding us, or making that stupid ban…"
            "But Harry," she said, and he swore her eyes were beginning to water, "what if McGonagall was right?"  
            "Huh?" he asked weakly. 
            "Maybe…maybe it would be better if you…if you didn't…" she couldn't bring herself to finish the sentence. 
            "Ginny, I know you're scared, because I'm scared, too.  But I won't let anything happen to you—I mean, I saved you once, right?"  he teased, trying to get her to smile.

            Instead, she bit her lip.  "And I don't want you to have to do it again.  Maybe it'll be better if we're…just friends." 

            He stood there, shocked. 
           
            "Besides, it's not like we were…together…or anything," she added sadly.
Ginny kissed him swiftly on the lips, picked up her trunk, and walked away. 

            "Goodbye, Harry."

Yes.  A cursed life, indeed.

---

            The next few weeks passed without any real meaning.  No one asked why Ginny and Harry had returned from their vacations three days early, or why their conversations were strained and falsely cheerful, or why they hardly ever made eye contact. 

            No one except Hermione, that is. 

            "Out with it, Harry," she said sharply, pushing him onto the chair in his and Ron's room.  She eyed him beadily and Harry knew it would be futile to resist. 

            "Something happened between you and Ginny at Hogwarts, didn't it?"
            "How did you know we were at Hogwarts together?" he demanded, taken aback.
            "I got it out of Ginny ages ago," Hermione said, waving away the question as if it were of no importance.  "Now what happened?"

            Harry told her everything—how he didn't realize he had fallen for Ginny until he read her letter to Tom; the first time he kissed her and she hated him for it; being found in the dormitory; McGonagall's ban; Ginny's goodbye…

            "And McGonagall didn't punish you?" Hermione asked skeptically.  
            "No, we drew up an agreement," Harry said quickly.  He was sure if he told Hermione about modifying their teacher's memory, Hermione would go ballistic. 
            "You know," said Hermione thoughtfully, "I don't think Ginny's doubting you love her , and she definitely is not over you, so don't worry about that…but she's afraid that anything between you two might give Voldemort an advantage.  She's remembering Sirius," she added carefully. 

            Harry ignored the pang he felt at the name Sirius.  "Oh, so she's doing this because if I care too much for her she'll end up getting hurt worse than I ever could and she doesn't want either of us to get hurt at all?"

            Hermione blinked, seemed to process for a moment, then nodded. 

            "Bloody hell, that's pretty mucked up."
            "Don't swear, Harry!"
            "Music to my ears," said Ron, entering the room.  "It's usually my name on the receiving end of that statement.  So, you found out what's wrong with Harry yet?"
            "Him and Ginny had a thing, it's over, both of them miss each other but don't want to risk it because of Voldemort," Hermione told him nonchalantly.  Harry braced himself for the mighty rage of Ron.
            "Oh.  I thought it was something like that."

            His jaw dropped and he stared at the pair of them.   "Since when did you two become agony aunts?  And you," he said to Ron, "why didn't you fly off the handle like you did with Corner?" 

            "Because he actually likes you, Harry," said Hermione simply.  "Very few boys are worthy in Ron's eyes."
            "So, you thinking what I'm thinking?" Ron asked her. 
            "Diagon Alley?"
            "Diagon Alley."

---

            Half an hour later, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were strolling along the cobblestones of Diagon Alley, chatting and purchasing their new school books.  When the Hogwarts letters had rolled around, Ginny was made prefect.  She was immensely happy and Mrs. Weasley promised to buy her a cat next time they went shopping, as Ginny had always wanted one. 

            "Ginny, have you bought anything for Hagrid's wedding?"  Hermione asked anxiously.  It was only three days away.
            "I'm going to wear my dress robes from the Yule Ball," she replied, making a face, "Ron got a new outfit because he's Hermione's partner," Ginny said, laughing at Ron's blush.
            "What about you, Harry?" Ron asked, eager to take the attention off himself. 
            "Not yet," he admitted.  Mrs. Weasley clicked her tongue and grasped his shoulder. 
           
            "Well, why don't I take Harry to get fitted, and the rest of you can go and visit Fred and George?"  She motioned to a crowded shop to their right, where three neon-green W's were intertwined above the doorway.  "We'll meet in front of Flourish and Blotts in an hour."
           
            "Excellent," said Ron.  "I've been wanting to get some Snackboxes…"
            Harry heard Hermione chiding Ron as Mrs. Weasley steered him into Madam Malkin's.  Ginny's laughter filled his head.  
            "They probably haven't figured it out yet."
            Harry sighed and began rifling through the racks.

---

            Half an hour later, Harry emerged from the shop with a new pair of black slacks, a golden shirt, and an ebony two-button jacket.  He had been surprised to find Madam Malkin had some very useful contacts with the Muggle London shops near the Leaky Cauldron.   

            Mrs. Weasley bade him farewell as she headed to the Magical Menagerie for Ginny's new cat.  Harry traipsed up and down the path, kicking dirt and thinking about Ginny's displeasure with her robes.  He had seen them—they were a soft yellow and not bad, but did not match her personality at all… 
           
            As soon as the idea struck him, Harry was off, past the Leaky Cauldron, through the brick archway, and into the sunshine. 

            He took a look around, having never really been in Muggle London and not really knowing where to go.  Harry walked past shop window after shop window, and just as he was about to rage at himself for coming up with such a stupid idea, he saw it.

            A dress the color of sapphires. 

            Harry entered the shop and headed straight to the dress, taking it from the front of the rack.  Rhinestones were speckled across the bosom like so many little glowing Snitches, surrounding the smile of the crescent moon neckline…it the backside of the crescent moon were tapered to a point, that is. 

            It was a beautiful dress, but would it do?  Was it a dancing dress? 

There was nothing else for it.  Harry swallowed to moisten his dry throat and headed for a changing cubicle. 

            This wasn't so bad, he thought, doing a twirl in front of the three-way mirror.  The dress billowed out around him, much like Ginny's skirt the first time she taught him to dance.  He examined the way the skirt of the dress sort of waterfalled, starting with short ruffles at the front and looping around to the back into longer ruffles.  Rhinestones had artfully been placed in the center of the satin ruffles, and also at the midsection of the dress in the shape of a v as a sort of belt. 

            He turned to adjust the straps that held the backless dress up around his neck, and imagined Ginny's fiery hair cascading around her shoulders and spine.  The contrast would be startling but attractive. 

            Giving the dress one final inspection, Harry did a little spin—but stopped halfway through.  Three boys around his age were eyeing him warily, and seemed to be fighting the urge to run. 

            "Erm, buying a gift for my girlfriend," he said awkwardly.  They just continued to stare.  Harry dashed back into his normal clothes and to the nearest cashier, blessing Mrs. Figg's suggestion he trade in some of his Gringotts gold for Muggle money.  "In case of emergency," she had said.

            This was an emergency, all right. 

---

            When Ginny came back upstairs after dinner, she was surprised to find a sleek black box upon her bed.  Her new kitten, nameless, white-furred, and jade-eyed, was pawing it interestedly.
            "What do you reckon?" she asked the cat, stroking its furry head and picking up the box.  Inside, nestled atop a forest of silver tissue paper, was a piece of folded-over parchment.

            Dear Ginny,
                        Letters seem to be an odd thing with us, don't you think?  Erm…I took the liberty of buying you this as a gift of thanks for all your help with dancing and such, and because I knew you really aren't too keen on your dress robes. It reminded me of the night near the Astronomy tower.

             I hope you like it, especially since I had to try it on myself to make sure it would fit you all right—these three blokes caught me at it…any idea what "fruit cup" means? 

Well, as this is the best way to talk to you, I guess I'll say it now:

            I miss ya, Gin.  I miss being able to laugh with you, and making you feel safe and loved, the way you made me feel.  I understand that you're scared, and probably right.  Being together is dangerous, and it was selfish of me to want you for myself if it put you in jeopardy.  I'd never want that.  But it doesn't change the way I feel. 

            Hope you like it,
                        Love,
                                    Harry.

            Ginny tucked the letter away, feeling tears well up in her eyes.  They began to pour down completely when she lifted the dress out of the box. 

            "Oh, Ginny, it's beautiful," said Hermione quietly, entering the room. 
            "I've never seen anything like it," Ginny said, running her hands over the fabric. 
            "That's because it's a Muggle dress…probably for a prom or something."
            "He really loves me, doesn't he?" she asked.
            "More than both of you will ever know," Hermione replied, scratching the kitten behind the ears so it started to purr.  Crookshanks came over and rubbed himself along the leg that Hermione had dangling off the bed. 

            "What do you call this kitten, anyway?"
            Ginny took it from her, gazed at its jade eyes and fair fur, and said without hesitation,
            "Lily."

a/n:  -phew- lots of stuff in this chapter!  I'm pooped!  And I bet many of you are wondering how much longer this story's going…well, the wedding is next chapter, and may be split into two separate parts, so I'm going to say the total chapter quota of Freaky Flying:  Summer Nights will be about sixteen to eighteen chapters, including an epilogue. 

            But fear not!  Harry and Ginny are getting "together", and I am in the planning stages of a story called Green Lilies or something to that effect, which will be about their wedding.  Most likely a follow-up one-shot to this story. 

            Review because HiPa Lurves You (and can't rap!)