OK, first things first - gratuitous apologies for the really, really long wait. Bet you all thought I'd completely given up on this. But no, I'm back. Considering how long it's been since I last updated, you'd've thought I'd done more than this, but I need to get back into the swing of things. Those waiting on more from 'Conversion' - I promise I'll have more soon.
Redemption
Chapter Four
Harry Potter had been watching them from the other side of the fountain.
Her chest exploded. So many thoughts and feelings collided within her that she temporarily forgot herself. Her mouth dropped open.
"Bloody hell."
Next to her, Reggie turned around. And leapt to his feet.
"Harry!" he said, reaching out a hand. "Good to see you! Didn't think you were back from the Gulf 'til later this month?" Reggie took Harry's hand and hugged him briefly, patting him heftily on the back.
"I got finished early," Harry replied lightly, glancing at Ginny, with a look that clearly said: Yep, that's right, early. I got the mess all cleared up early. Early early early... He tilted his head up, casting a satisfied look of calculation down his nose at her. She wasn't at all comfortable with the way his eyes roamed over her, taking her in through his same, round-rimmed glasses.
"Good man," Reggie said, diminishing in her opinion before Ginny's eyes. "Here, there's someone I'd like you to meet..."
"We've already met," Harry said quickly, smirking at her. "Ginny Weasley was my best friend's sister."
"Was," she repeated coolly. "But you know how people drift, eh, Harry?"
She glared at him, but he just looked right back at her, that arrogant over-confidence remaining. "I do know," he said smoothly. "But I wish I didn't. I can't imagine how I could have let you drift, Ginevra Weasley. You look stunning."
She cocked an eyebrow. "Evidently you must have considered me not nearly attractive enough for you over the years, Harry. How long has it been now? Three, four years? Unfortunately I seem to have succeeded in making your recommended shag-ability list in the meantime, and you missed it."
He did not crumble under pressure, but tilted his head to the side, looking down at her.
"A heinous oversight," he said, with half a grin and sparkle in his eyes.
"Don't worry, Harry, in my business you get used to ignorant arrogance and falsehood. I can tell you now that I give very little credit to much about you, and I don't need to start."
"And what business would that be?" he replied, taking nothing on the chin. She suspected that the crimson folds of her attire were responsible for his thick skin.
Reggie, eager to insert himself into the conversation, answered.
"Ginny's in the media," he said. "Journalism."
"Ah? So you're a writer. I'm not surprised. You've always been a passionate and outspoken person."
Ginny smiled - not a flattered smile, but a small, strained one.
"So were you, for a time. Tell me, have you spoken to Ron or Hermione since you got back? I'm sure they're dying to see you."
"I haven't had the pleasure yet," he said.
"Then let me give you the opportunity - they're having a celebration at the Burrow soon. You're welcome to come." She did not think he was all that welcome, but it would give her an ideal opportunity to attempt to embarrass him; expose him for the git he really was.
"That's perfect," he said. He pulled and card from his inside pocket. "Here's my number--"
"No, you're alright," she said, attempting sweetness. She tucked her hand into her purse, and took out her own card. She pushed it into his hand. "Take mine. Call me."
And she stalked off. Harry quirked up his eyebrow in a bemused sort of way, and pocketed the card.
Ginny hoped against hope that she had double-bluffed him, that he'd take her frostiness as read and avoid the party. But when he turned up at the Burrow, wine in one hand and a bunch of flowers in the other, she was sadly disappointed.
"Ginny," he said mildly, as she opened the door. "Here, these are for your mother."
Ginny raised an eyebrow. "I'm sure you can walk a few feet and give them to her yourself, Harry."
"Harry!" came her mother's excited squeal from behind her. Ginny threw a haughty, calculating glance down Harry's body, and then ducked and slipped out of the way as her mother, father, and half of her family enveloped Harry. She wandered out across the kitchen and sat down at the kitchen table, crossing her legs and attempting the pervade an aura of frosty discontent with his presence.
Indeed, it took Harry, as Ginny had known it would, a very long time to extricate himself. When he finally did, his jacket was hanging off one of his shoulders and his hair was standing on end. Although, it could have started like that.
Ginny avoided Harry for most of the day, except when food was served, and she encountered him complimenting her mother's cooking loudly and appreciatively and telling everyone what a fire-ball she'd become, and then later, when the fire-flies came out and he hovered behind her while she swung idly from the garden swing, watching the heavens.
"Hello, Ginny," he said lazily, taking up a near-by tree stump. "I feel as though I haven't spoken to you all day."
"You haven't, thankfully," she said smoothly, not turning her attention on him.
"So cruel, Ginevra, so sharp-tongued. What is it that could have possibly made you into such a bitter individual."
"Life, Harry. Occasionally it bites you on the behind too many times, and you learn not to sit down."
She felt Harry smirk behind her. "That must get tiring."
"Not after you're used to it. But I expect you spend an un-ordinate amount of time on your arse as it is Harry, so I wouldn't expect you to understand."
"I understand," Harry began, from way too close behind her, startling her, "that you have a few unpleasant memories associated with me, Ginny." She felt her stomach leave her, and her eyes suddenly caught the starry sky. Then her head hurt. She'd fallen backwards from the swing. No - Harry had pulled her.
"Harry James Potter," she fumed, calmer then she'd expected, as she lay in the grass, legs hooked around the swing, "come here."
Grinning smugly, Harry dropped onto one knee over her. She gestured for him to come closer.
When he was low enough that she could feel his breath on her face, she smiled.
"Now I have another one." Ginny pulled back her fist, and whacked Harry, hard, on the jaw. He jerked backwards, his hands flying out into the wet grass, and he landed with a heavy thump on the muddy ground. "Now piss off."
Scowling, spitting, and clinging to his quickly-purpling face, Harry turned tail in silence, and retreated back into the house.
The bathroom door would not open. Ginny put her ear to one of the fogged glass panels and listened. She could hear mild grumbling, and the occasional curse. With satisfaction, she realised it was Harry Potter.
"...bloody woman... fucking great bruise... little arse..." She heard the door to the bathroom cabinet open and close, and she could see in her mind's eye, Harry taking one last bitter look in the mirror, rubbing his jaw, and heading towards the door.
Ginny smirked vindictively, and lent on the door-frame.
Harry started when he saw he, his mouth dropping open. Ginny glanced at his purple cheek.
"You look stunning," she said brightly.
He looked torn between anger and rage.
"No, really," she went on, smiling sweetly. "Black and blue really suits you."
Harry's jaw tightened. "Why are you being like this, Gin?"
"You can't call me that," she hissed. "You lost that right when you lost all the others - when your head got so far up your own arse you couldn't see daylight any more."
He blinked, but something inside him had clicked. Ginny could see, right before her eyes, a shroud of haughty arrogance being drawn around him.
"Well," he said lightly, tipping his head slightly to the side. "I can't say I won't be able to use another war scar." Ginny's eye was immediately drawn to his shoulder, where a shallow laceration had healed and formed a jagged scar. Below that four deep wounds had left their mark, and further, just cut off by his trousers, was a semi-circular scar, like a crescent moon.
At that point, Ginny realised that she was staring. And, with annoyance, that she had been staring for several minutes, and that she was still staring at, his crotch. Helpless to stop the rush of blood to her face, Ginny looked up. Harry was looking smug. Ginny shoved past him into the bathroom and locked the door.