A/N: Every time I have a plan for what I want to include in a chapter, it ends up getting so long that I have to push off half of what I intended to write for later. That happened here. I actually finished this several days ago, but I didn't want to post it until I was sure it set up the next chapter in the right way. That next chapter is now over 5,000 words, and probably has another 2,000 to go before it's done. I hope to have it up in the next few days, and I think it's going to be very pleasing to a few of you. Special thanks to Opaque-Cavalier for asking a few very good questions and making some astute observations. I'm not sure all your issues are addressed here, but I think they will be soon.

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Much to her consternation, Ginny realized she didn't have a single clean – or even semi-clean – item of clothing that would be appropriate to wear for a run. It wasn't just a question of putting on something she'd worn once before knowing it was about to get sweaty again anyway; her pile of exercise clothing mocked her from a smelly mound in the corner of her flat, daring her to even attempt yet another freshening charm. It would be just her luck to run into Harry or one of the other Arrows smelling like something that had died under a rock; she doubted even her mum knew enough magic to charm away the stink.

Sighing to herself, Ginny gathered all her dirty clothes into a basket to haul them down to the laundry room. Maybe the lull of the machines would give her time to think anyway.

The elevator trundled slowly down and Ginny tried to empty her mind, or to at least to focus on only one issue at a time. Trying to reconcile everything that had gone on over the past few days was giving her a headache, and she wasn't sure what to think about first. The Bellows sisters certainly factored high; she knew they were up to something (or more likely, a lot of somethings), but she wasn't convinced it was concerning as opposed to just a nuisance. They were just as likely to be particularly pushy celebrity-chasers who were enamored with Harry's double reasons for fame as actually up to anything truly dangerous. She'd keep an eye out for them, but decided that her run-in at the apothecary didn't warrant an extra conversation with Gawain.

And that was the other reason she wasn't jumping to tell the Aurors about Katerina and the others; Ginny wanted to lay especially low with her bosses right now. In her more rational moments, she thought that Robards' behavior wasn't so unusual for a senior Auror; Mad-Eye Moody had been even tougher (and sometimes crazier) about ferreting out dark magic. Ginny couldn't deny that they were learning a lot, watching how Robards and Kane and some of the others conducted themselves and how they taught the trainees how to prevent, recognize, and stop evil wizards. It went well beyond the defense they'd learned at Hogwarts and Ginny was grateful to be gaining so much knowledge.

It didn't mean she always agreed with it, though, and that was getting to be a problem.

She wondered if it was a common consequence of becoming an Auror; seeing suspicious activity everywhere. To be sure, none of Ginny's co-trainees had encountered anyone trying to break into their homes, and no one else seemed concerned about their boss' rather gratuitous use of Legilimency on them. Maybe they hadn't even noticed.

Or maybe you're the only one Robards is interested in.

Ginny pushed that thought aside – again - and huffed a sigh as she shifted her basket of clothing to her other hip; she really should have charmed it lighter before leaving her flat. Pushing the door to the laundry room open with her shoulder, she was unsurprised to see a number of open washers.

Am I the only one who has to do her own laundry? She knew she wasn't, of course, but Ginny couldn't help but indulge in a bit of shallow self-pity. If she could afford a laundry service, she'd never be caught without the clean clothes she needed. She'd be on her run right now, instead of stuck in the humid and stuffy basement.

As if hearing her thoughts, the laundry room door pushed open again and a woman wearing the familiar blue and white uniform of Suds and Spells Laundry Service backed into the room, holding up her wand to levitate a large, half-full bin of dirty clothing that floated in after her. To Ginny's surprise, when the end of the bin cleared the door, she saw Harry, also with his wand out, helping keep the laundry basket in the air. He saw Ginny, and a strange, guarded look crossed his face.

"Hi Ginny," he said quickly. The laundry bin dropped with a thump as the Suds and Spells worker turned to look at her.

"Do you have laundry for me to pick up too? I was just getting Harry's and a few of his teammates' and when I knocked on his door he was kind enough to show me where the laundry room was." The woman smiled at Ginny. "I could offer you a new customer discount."

Now Ginny understood Harry's expression. She slowly shook her head, not having to try too hard to paste a sorry look on her face. "Can't afford a laundry service, I'm afraid," she said. "Even with a discount. I do my own wash instead."

"My roommate does his own laundry too," said Harry. He walked slowly into the room, skirting the large bin of clothes. "I'm lucky that my Quidditch salary pays me more than enough to afford comforts like sending out my laundry." He looked around. "I told . . . I'm sorry, what did you say your name was again?"

"Calypso. My name's Calypso, laundry witch, at your service!" said the woman in a cheery voice. She waving her wand at the bin from her end; it rocked back and forth but seemed to be stuck in place. "Can you push this closer to the washers for me? I think it's caught on something."

"Sure," said Harry. He grabbed the side of the canvas basket and gave it a push as Ginny bit her tongue. It easily slid across the floor and bumped into the washer next to the one where Ginny was standing.

"Perfect," said Calypso. She looked down at a clipboard she'd pulled out of her robes. "But it looks like not all the players' laundry made it down here," she frowned. "We've been having problems with things getting stuck in the building's Floo-shoot. Hmmm. I'd better go check the entry points and figure out where the clog is. Why don't you wait here and keep an eye out for anything that makes it down?" She gestured to a large hole in the ceiling Ginny had never noticed before. A second bin like the one Harry was still holding was parked beneath it, the bubby logo of the washing company drifting across the side.

"Good . . . good idea," said Harry. He cleared his throat. "I'll . . . help Ginny with her laundry. Since she can't afford your services."

The laundry witch smiled brightly. "Perfect," she said again. "I'll be back in a trice." She very nearly skipped out of the laundry room, closing the door behind her.

As soon as she was gone, Ginny ran to Harry's side. "What's wrong? Should I chase her?"

Harry's eyes were shut tightly. He shook his head. "Don't touch anything," he said through clenched teeth. His hands grabbed roughly at the bottom hem of his pullover and there was a sound of ripping fabric. "Call . . . Aurors. She used . . . potion."

"Do you need St. Mungo's?" Ginny asked sharply. She sent a terse Patronus and turned back to Harry. He didn't look to be in pain, exactly, but his hands seemed to be moving of their own accord. Now they were tugging at his belt and then running down the sides of his jeans before moving up to rip at more of his shirt. "Is there a counter spell?"

"Almost . . . okay," Harry gasped. He stumbled back against a folding table. His hands splayed out in front of him, shaking, and then he suddenly took a deep breath, all the tension draining away. He opened his eyes. "Is help coming?"

Ginny nodded. "I sent an emergency message, reaching out to the nearest Aurors. I didn't know exactly what to tell them, just that someone dressed as a laundry worker had broken into the building and was using magic on tenants." She paused. "I used your name, I'm sorry. I thought maybe it would get them here faster."

Harry nodded, then winced. "It will, good idea. I can't believe . . ."

There was a sudden rushing noise, and Harry squinted his eyes as if listening to something. A second later he frowned and spoke into the air. "A woman, wearing a laundry uniform from Suds and Spells." Ginny noticed the lack of preliminaries with whomever Harry was speaking to; he obviously was talking to an Auror. She frowned, wondering what they were saying.

Harry was still listening, and he caught Ginny's eye before he spoke next.

"It's a compulsive potion, not too strong; I was able to throw it off after a few minutes . . . I'm not the Auror, why don't you ask her? She's more than capable of managing . . ." he got quiet again, listening as the noise started up again. "Well then, maybe it's time to teach them . . . fine. Hold on." He beckoned to Ginny. "Bram Rhodes and Camilla Stalk are upstairs looking for Calpyso," he said quietly. His mouth tightened as he raised his wand.

"I don't know why they haven't taught you all two-way communication yet, but that's not my . . ." he stopped and shrugged. "Come stand next to me; I can widen the spell enough for us both to be able to talk to them."

Ginny nodded, a small knot of tension leaving her. At least she knew why Camilla and Bram had reached out to Harry instead of her. He was trembling, probably from the after-effects of the potion, even though his voice was quite steady. Ginny put her hand lightly on his back and he leaned into her with a small smile. She gestured to the sole chair in the laundry room, a rickety thing that had probably been left by a previous tenant. "Do you . . .?" she asked quietly.

Harry shook his head. "I think I'm okay," he said. He shuffled closer to her and waved his wand, and suddenly Ginny heard Bram's voice.

". . . most of the doorknobs on the seventh floor, but we aren't sure where else. What was the transmission method for you?"

"The handle of the laundry bin, I think," Harry replied. "Ginny didn't touch it." He looked at her. "Right? You didn't touch the bin?" He inclined his head at the canvas basket."

Ginny shook her head and then realized she needed to speak. "I didn't," she said clearly. "We, Harry and I, we both knew something was off, but not what it was. The witch – Calypso – set him up; she pretended that levitating the bin wouldn't work." She didn't know why it felt imperative that she explain; certainly Bram and Camilla knew that Harry hadn't been affected by the potion because of any mistake he made.

Harry was speaking, answering a question Ginny missed. "Because I don't send out my laundry." He nodded at her to lean in so she could hear better.

". . .For not trying to stop her this time." Camilla sounded almost relieved. "We don't need another Prophet article right now."

Ginny opened her mouth to protest – that hadn't been her fault – but she shut it again almost immediately. That wasn't the issue right now. "Do you know where she is?" she asked instead. "Do you think she got out of the building?"

"Doubtful," said Bram. "The wards should have prevented it. But we need to make sure the tenants are protected first. We're about to go looking for her. Harry, you said it was a compulsion potion? What was it compelling you to do?"

Ginny saw a flush climb up Harry's cheeks as he answered. "It umm, it compelled me to umm, try to take of my clothes," he said in a rush. "Took me a minute or two before I realized though. Then I was able to fight it better." He looked firmly away from her.

"Ahhh. That . . . answers a few questions." Camilla sounded almost amused. "Both of you stay where you are until we're able to neutralize the potion throughout the building. Let us know if you hear anything." Her voice faded away.

Ginny looked down at Harry's clothing. She'd heard the fabric tearing, and now she saw that the bottom of his shirt was ripped in two; she could see his navel and the muscles of his abdomen through the hole. He'd also loosened his belt before he got control of the compulsion, and his trousers hung low on his hips. A thatch of dark hair trailed down from his stomach and disappeared into his waistband. Ginny only realized that her gaze had drifted there when Harry pulled his pants higher and refastened his belt.

"Sorry," said Ginny quickly. "I didn't mean to . . . I didn't see anything." She blushed.

"Okay," said Harry quietly. There was an odd beat of silence. Ginny chuckled nervously.

"Good thing you were able to resist the potion, or this could have gotten really awkward."

Harry let out a breath. "Yeah," he said. "That would have been . . . yeah." He grimaced. "Most of the team is upstairs," he said. "I have to suspect that at least one or two of them are naked right now, or close to it."

"That's not a funny prank," said Ginny hotly. "Even Fred and George wouldn't sell something that did that."

"I know," said Harry. "Compulsion potions aren't that far off from the Imperius curse, depending on their strength." He looked down at his hands and Ginny he was going to say something else, but he stayed silent.

Ginny nodded. "We've learned about them, but only in theory so far. I guess we'll have to chance to try to resist one or two later."

Harry opened his mouth, then closed it again. Ginny touched his arm. "What is it, Harry? I know there's something you aren't telling me. I thought we were past that." She tried to keep her voice light.

"We are, we are," said Harry quickly. "It's not that."

"Then what?"

Harry sighed. "You're the Auror trainee," he said. "Not me," he said.

Ginny shook her head, confused. "So? You still know a lot more than I do. I don't mind if you help me. I won't tell any of my teachers, don't worry," she added hastily. "They don't need to know that we talk about this stuff. You know, because they'd probably read too much into it or something." Still, Harry was silent, a pensive look on his face. He held his wand out in front of him and his eyes darted back and forth around the room. Ginny startled. In that moment, she didn't see her brother's best mate or her erstwhile object of jealousy and annoyance who had become – finally - a friend. She didn't even see a hot-shot Quidditch player. Harry looked like an Auror. He wasn't wearing the robes, but he might as well have been, and the months Ginny had spent learning to combat evil didn't come close to making her feel like she knew what Harry instinctively understood.

And yet he'd walked away from it.

Harry had hinted at his reasons several times, and Ginny's entire family had respected his decision, even if they didn't quite understand it. Merlin knew, Robards and the others weren't exactly quiet about the fact that they thought Harry had made a mistake in leaving, but even so, Ginny had never really considered that Robards' blustering about Harry's unique expertise really meant the Aurors had lost something of value when Harry left.

Or maybe something had been protected.

Ginny had been careful not to push Harry about the Aurors, and he'd made it clear he didn't want to influence her experiences there. It hadn't worked exactly worked, obviously; she and Harry seemed to get tangled up in her training more often than she could have ever expected and his behavior left Ginny with more questions than answers. But what did that really mean? Ginny was certain that Harry would have stopped her and Ron from joining up if he'd harbored any serious concerns about the Auror organization. Instead, he'd been quietly supportive, but kept his distance. Ginny wasn't sure if that was for his own benefit or hers and Ron's. But now, it was staring him in the face again and Ginny felt responsible.

She cast around for something to say. Blurting out what she was thinking – asking Harry if he missed the Aurors – didn't seem wise, especially when she wasn't sure if their conversation might be overheard. He was still and tense next to her, and his hesitance to move beyond the tiny squares of floor he'd apparently carved out as safe caused Ginny to freeze there too. One of the other washers buzzed, and Ginny's head automatically turned in that direction. Maybe because she'd just seen one, but the small gray and white striped paper bag seemed to jump out at her from its crumpled spot next to her laundry basket. Ginny rubbed her temples, trying to remember. Harry noticed.

He touched her hand, which was still massaging her head. "Are you okay? Is it the potion?" He glanced down at her, as if to confirm that Ginny still had her clothes on. Ginny shook her head.

"No, I feel fine," she said. "It's that paper bag there. I know I just saw one like it, but I can't remember where." She looked at Harry. "I know I shouldn't grab it, but do you think it would be safe to levitate it to us if we don't touch it?"

Harry nodded. "I think so," he said. "Are you sure it's something important?"

Ginny carefully said the levitation spell and the paper floated through the air.

"No," she admitted. "But it's tickling my mind."

Harry made a sound of understanding. "You're thinking like an Auror," he said. "In a good way, I mean."

"Is there a bad way?" Ginny asked, before she could stop herself.

Harry seemed nonplussed by the suggestion. "Yeah, sometimes," he shrugged. "As I think you know." He didn't say anything else, and after a second, Ginny leaned forward to look at the paper frozen in the air in front of them.

Harry peered at it too. "Something's written on it," he said. "But I don't think it's English." He looked closer. "Is that Russian, do you think?"

"What?" Ginny started to step closer but before she could move, Harry reached out and held her back. "Don't touch it," he said sharply. Then he sagged. "Sorry. I didn't mean to . . . I know you know that." He dropped his hand. "Sorry," he said again.

Ginny pulled back. "But sometimes I'm impulsive," she said. "So thank you."

Harry harrumphed. "And sometimes I'm overprotective."

"You've not been with me," Ginny pointed out. She gave him a pointed look. "Or have you?"

"Nooo," Harry said slowly. "I don't think so. But you're not . . . I mean, no." He shook his head. "I haven't, I don't think."

Ginny couldn't help but notice that Harry had twice said he didn't think he'd been overprotective about her. Did that mean he'd maybe done something that could be considered overprotective? Ginny wracked her brain but couldn't really come up with anything specific. Talking to her about Dam didn't count and she said so out loud.

Harry gave a weak chuckle. "You had Dam sorted almost immediately, I didn't have to say anything." He rocked back on his heels, his nervous gesture. "No, it's nothing like that. I've been careful not to, umm, interfere, haven't I?" He looked at her, eyes serious.

Ginny guessed they were talking about the Aurors again. She nodded. "You have," she said. A millions questions swirled in her head and she wished she could just draw on some of her impulsivity and blurt them out. But Harry seemed determined to talk in circles right now, and really, given that they were currently trapped in a possibly booby-trapped basement right now, it wasn't the time to delve deeper into what he meant anyway.

"Do you think we can enlarge it?" she said instead, nodding at the paper bag. She now recognized it as coming from the apothecary she and Ron had visited the day before. Handwritten pencil scratchings covered one corner; it looked like letters and words, but none that Ginny could decipher.

Harry nodded. "I think that's okay," he said.

The words didn't make any more sense once they were bigger, but Ginny agreed with Harry's assessment. "I think they're Russian," she said. "Ron and I ran into those Bellows sisters yesterday in that apothecary at the entrance to Knockturn Alley. The bought something in a bag like this. Ron thought they were all speaking Russian."

"All?" Harry was rotating the bag slowly in the air, looking for any other identifying marks. "I thought it was just Katerina and Nadia."

"And Zoya," said Ginny. "The youngest."

"Do you remember what they bought?"

Ginny thought for a moment. "The shopkeeper said something about Baobob sap and lilac powder. And something called . . . crocus . . . something."

"Savitus," said Harry grimly. "That's the compulsive element. The other ingredients would be to cause the specific thing meant to be compelled." He wrinkled his forehead in thought. "Baobob sap can raise body temperature. Mixed with other ingredients, it would make someone want to cool off by taking off their clothes. The Aurors would know more."

"You know a lot," said Ginny. She felt a little overwhelmed. "Did you learn all of that just last year?"

Harry gave her a guarded look. "You'll learn it too, most of it," he said. "But, some things I picked up . . . elsewhere."

Ginny nodded. "And did you . . .?" she began. Then she remembered something more important. "Oh, Zoya!" She turned excitedly to Harry. "She was the person Ron heard talking to . . ." at the last minute, Ginny choked back the rest of her words and looked at Harry, eyes wide.

"They can't hear," he said, low in her ear. "At least . . . they shouldn't be able to." He glanced quickly around, frowning. "But, yeah, I got it." He looked pensive. "I don't think . . ." He stopped again. "You should send a message to Camilla and Bram, and another to Robards. Tell them what you know."

Ginny knew that Harry knew she didn't yet know how to send the individual Patronus messages, but she also understood why Harry wouldn't offer to do it himself. She raised her wand. "Show me how?" she asked.

She didn't know what kind of reaction to expect when she sent messages telling her supervisors to look for Zoya Bellows as the source of the potion, but she certainly couldn't have predicted that Robards would gasp and bluster and then mutter a curse that made even Ginny's ears burn. He ended the conversation abruptly, asking Ginny to stay put with a request that sounded more like an order. "Potter too," he added before the connection broke. They didn't have long to wonder what was going on; only minutes later Camilla and Bram burst into the laundry room, a squirming Zoya between them. She was yelling in Russian and shot Ginny a look of pure venom.

"You really do think you're better than everyone else, don't you?" she asked. When Ginny didn't bother answering, the woman turned next to Harry. "It was all in good fun you know. No one could be harmed."

"Oh really?" asked Camilla. Her voice dripped with sarcasm as she held up a camera. "And what did you intend to do with a bunch of photos of naked Quidditch players? You captured some of the regular tenants too, you know."

Next to Ginny, Harry groaned. "Ron was home," he said under his breath. Ginny bit back a snort. "I'm sure Hermione appreciated that," she muttered back. Harry knocked his hip against hers and chuckled.

"She writes for one of those news rags," said Bram. "And freelances for the Prophet. Her specialty is celebrity gossip. We think she was trying to drum up a more exciting story."

He looked at Zoya. "I'm taking you straight to Gawain Robards; he wants to talk to you about your agreement, and I suggest you not try anything with him. He won't tolerate it." Camilla let go of Zoya's arm and conjured a magical binding. She glanced at Harry and Ginny and then exchanged a long look with Bram. "I got it," she said briskly.

Bram readjusted his grip on Zoya. "We're running out of Bellows sisters to ban from this building," he said, turning on the spot. Ginny couldn't be sure, but she heard Zoya mutter something as she disappeared.

"I really need to learn Russian," she said to Harry.

In the end, Camilla didn't talk to Harry and Ginny for very long at all. Ginny got the impression that there were a lot of things the senior Auror wanted to say – and questions she wanted to ask – but something was holding her back. Next to her, Harry was nearly silent, shrugging his shoulders a lot, and only speaking to tell her that it had been Ginny who'd figured out Zoya was an imposter and Ginny who'd recognized the importance of the apothecary bag. The first statement was not entirely true; they'd both realized something was off at nearly the same time, but she didn't correct him. The adrenaline of the past hour was draining away, and Ginny was suddenly exhausted. After agreeing to have yet another meeting with Robards and the others to debrief the situation, the woman pointed her wand at the laundry bin Zoya had brought and it disappeared with a pop. "I'm going to the office," she said. She looked at Ginny. "Stay . . . available tonight, in case there are questions." She didn't look at Harry.

Ginny nodded. "Of course," she said. With a final sigh, Camilla turned on the spot.

In the silence that followed, Ginny felt nearly as loathe to speak as Harry did. But now he seemed to want to talk. "You did everything right," he said as they slowly walked to the lifts. He'd insisted on first sending her washing out to the real Suds and Spells, assuring Ginny that it would all be delivered back to her within the hour. "They can't find fault with it." Unspoken was the understanding that someone would probably try to find fault with Ginny's actions anyway. She sighed. "What about the fact that I was with you?" she asked.

Harry ran his hand through his hair. "Well, there's that," he allowed. "But we can't help it if we were in the laundry room at the same time, can we? We both need to do our wash."

"And both just happen to be there at the same time some crazy fan tries to sneak in – again," said Ginny with a touch of sarcasm. "Because no one's going to think that's a total coincidence at all."

"Let's just hope that Robards is better at keeping Zoya under control now that's she's the one who's been caught."

"Do you think that's what he was trying to do when Ron overheard them?"

Harry nodded. "I bet she'd found something out – some little piece of gossip – and was planning to write another article."

"Like the fact I was being hauled in front of all the Senior Aurors to talk about the last attempted break-in?"

Harry nodded. "That could be it. Zoya certainly knew what happened to her sister, and I bet she was trying to find out anything else she could." He knocked his hip against Ginny's. "But isn't it a little dramatic to say you were being 'hauled in?' I know I'm not always . . . enthusiastic about my time with the Aurors, but you shouldn't always listen to me anyway." His tone was mild, but Ginny understood. She knocked her hip back.

"So I should only listen to you sometimes?" she said lightly. Harry smiled. "Something like that."

"I'll have to figure out how to know when you say something important then," said Ginny. "It may take some investigation." She let her voice take on an even more teasing tone. "I guess I can try to clear my schedule, come follow the Arrows on their next road trip. You know, in case you say something I need to hear."

Harry looked like he was about to say something, then stopped. Instead, he smiled again. "I'll be sure to warn you first." He punched the button for the lift and gestured when the door opened. "After you?"

The aftermath of Zoya Bellows' antics was still in evidence upstairs. It looked as if most of the Arrows, as well as Ron, had been affected by her potion. The hallway was scattered with discarded clothing and several St. Mungo's medi-witches walked back and forth in front of a number of seated figures, each of whom was wearing what appeared to be a magically tied white bathrobe. Adam Ramsey and Kipling Cross were sitting quietly next to two reserve players Ginny didn't know well, but Dam and Ron still clawed with frustration at the front of their robes, trying to get them open. One of the medi-witches shot a spell at each of them, and their hands dropped. The witch caught sight of Harry and Ginny and grimaced. "We had to send the rest to St. Mungo's. Too much potion got absorbed into their skin and has to be flushed out overnight. The rest should be okay here, although I wouldn't let these two," - she nodded at Ron and Dam – "out in public tonight. They're still liable to try to strip, and I saw quite a few photographers outside when I arrived."

Ron looked up at Harry and Ginny. His hands tangled aimlessly with the tie on his robe, but he seemed more under control now. "She put the most potion on our door," he said. "Apparently, the Prophet offered her quite a bit of money for an article and accompanying photos of Harry Potter's bits."

Next to Ron, Dam chuckled. "From what I've heard, it's not just the Prophet that's put a bounty on those bits. There are any number of witches downstairs who were waiting quite eagerly, once news broke that they might get the chance to see Harry naked. Katerina was about ready to start selling tickets."

"And they think that's a funny joke?" said Ginny hotly. "Or do you?" she rounded on Dam. "I know being a Quidditch star means giving up some measure of privacy, but that's just going too far. No one should be able to see Harry naked unless he wants to show them himself, and so far, he doesn't want to!" Her sense of injustice riled up, it took Ginny a moment to realize exactly what she'd said. Dam barked a laugh and said something about how he, personally, didn't mind showing off his bits in the right circumstances, and Ron rolled his eyes at her, but Ginny didn't really care what they thought. She turned to Harry.

"I'm sorry, that was out of line," she said. "I didn't mean to speak for you."

To her relief, Harry chuckled. "You tend to do that a lot, don't you? Like with that reporter at the press conference?" He touched her arm. "I don't mind. I . . . like that you're looking out for me. Merlin knows I can't always do it for myself."

Ginny didn't think she should be let off so easily. "Yeah, but it's not my business who you want to show your umm, you know." she flushed. "Or when. I need to do better at thinking before I speak."

"It means you think quickly on your feet," reasoned Harry. "You'll get better at editing yourself, but I hope you never hold back when you have something important to say. Besides," he gave a gentle smirk, "you weren't really off on your assessment. There's been no one – yet – I've wanted to share that kind of thing with." He sighed and glanced at the Arrows' captain.

"Dam still giving you a hard time about that then?" She asked quietly. Down the hall, the medi-witches were helping up the players and escorting them back to their flats.

"I don't think he'll stop until that poster in my flat changes," said Harry. "I'm getting better at rolling my eyes and not letting it bother me so much though." He looked down at Ron. "Should we agree to take responsibility for him?"

Ginny nodded. "He seems to be calming down. Let's get him inside." She looked at her brother. "Where's Hermione?"

Ron groaned. "Had to work late. Figures. Tonight would have been a great time to try . . ."

"Okay mate, that's enough," said Harry. He hauled Ron to his feet. "Save whatever you were going to say for your girlfriend." He looked at Ginny. Are you coming?

Ginny hesitated. "Actually, I'm going to go back to my flat. I want to write up my memories of what happened before they fade. I'm sure someone's going to ask me about it tomorrow. Will you be okay?"

Harry nodded. "I'll make some food," he said. "That should distract him."

"I'm right here," said Ron petulantly. "You can ask me if I'm hungry."

"Okay Ron," said Harry with exaggerated patience. "Are you hungry?"

Ron nodded. "Of course I am. What do we have to eat?" He gave Ginny a quick hug. "I'll see you in the morning? Maybe even early enough to walk to work with you?"

"I'll believe it when I see it," said Ginny. She looked at Harry. "Let me know if you need help."

"I will," said Harry. "And will you let me know if . . . if you hear anything? From work, I mean."

Ginny hid her surprise. "Of course," she said. "I promise."

Harry gave her a smile. "Thanks."