Harry frowned at the report before him and ran his fingers through his hair in exasperation. He'd been reading the thing for an hour and it still wasn't making any sense. Four Aurors had spent nearly a week organizing and cataloguing all the suspicious activity that had been surrounding the Quidditch leagues for the past two months and even though it all pointed to something – or someone – sinister coordinating it all, nothing in the report suggested a reason for any of it. He'd left the Burrow eight days ago to check in on a suspicious meeting that was supposed to take place at a pub called Smokey Joe's – a Muggle establishment near the Leaky Cauldron usually frequented by Americans. But he'd no sooner entered the front door than a number of loud cracks from a back room told him that anyone of interest had immediately Apparated away. He'd had to modify the memory of the confused waitress who'd been serving the "strange group of men", but only after he'd questioned her – and learned nothing particularly helpful. The only thing she could remember was that the men seemed to be talking about birds a lot – a statement that did not sit well with Harry at all.
Harry's eyes skimmed again down the list of teams and the specific activity each had suffered. All the teams in the league had been targeted for attack at least once, with all manner of threats and hazards used – poisonous gasses, dangerous plants, charmed doorways and other menacing dangers. But nothing added up.
As he did every time he looked at the statistics, he couldn't help but feel dread when he saw the team at the top of the list. The Holyhead Harpies had suffered more attacks than any other, closely followed by the Tutshill Tornadoes and the newest team in the league, the Earlham Eagles. Harry had heard that the Eagles owner was so unnerved by the injuries that kept befalling his players that he was already looking for a buyer for the team. As it was, the league had agreed to a ten-day break in matches, to give the Aurors time to try to put all the pieces together. There were only three days left before games resumed, and Harry felt no closer to an answer than he had a week ago.
But the Harpies. Harry didn't know if it was because whomever was behind the attacks thought that an all-female team would be an easier target, or if there was a more specific reason, but the Harpies had been the victims of nearly twice as many "incidents" as some of the other teams, and it was getting more than merely concerning. There was talk of ending the season early if the culprits behind the attacks weren't caught.
Harry tried to make his brain focus again on the list of potions that had been used in various explosions during actual matches, but the names and numbers kept swimming before his eyes. He finally gave in and closed the stack of parchment before taking off his glasses and resting his head tiredly in his hands.
He'd been stuck here, at his office in the Ministry of Magic, for over a week now, and the strain of being here, instead of out in the field trying to actually figure something out was getting to him. He knew paperwork was part of the job, and that here he had access to labs and evidence and regular discussions among the Aurors about what it all meant, but he still couldn't get rid of the urgency he felt to get back out there, into the middle of the action, before the next attack.
Really, he just wanted to see Ginny again.
Harry sighed. The hours of boredom caused by endless paperwork left plenty of room in his head for other musings, and after a day or two of trying to deny it, he finally gave in and admitted to himself that he missed her.
You want to make sure she's safe, that's really what this is about.
That was partly true, at least. He'd been trying to convince himself that concern for Ginny's safety was really motivating his thoughts about her. He owed it to the Weasleys to keep an eye on her, right?
And moreover, he was just doing his job when he let himself get concerned about her safety. After the Harpies had emerged as the main targets – it was only natural that he'd want to keep a closer eye on that team – hell, it was expected of him as an Auror. Anything less and he'd be shirking his duties.
You aren't seeking out Leandra or Evie or any of the other players, though.
The little voice would not go away, no matter how Harry tried to tell it that he considered Ginny just another Harpy. Not that he was slacking in his work to protect all of them – he'd barely slept in the last few weeks, both when he was still in the field and more recently while he'd been spending innumerable hours at the office. This was how he often got when a case was particularly difficult.
The only difference was that it felt personal this time, and that made it much harder. Harry knew he was known around the office as being an Auror willing to work extra hours so that others didn't have to; his habits were particularly appreciated by some of the more senior Aurors who had families. Working that hard had originally made it easier not to crowd Ginny when she was first getting used to playing professional Quidditch, and after they had broken up, it was just something to occupy his extra time.
But in the last month or two, he'd had something quite different to occupy his extra time, and much as he tried not to admit it, having Ginny back in his life – even just a "friend" – had lessened his interest in covering extra shifts for other Aurors.
Which was why he was continuing to do it, of course. There had already been too many times that Harry had subtly manipulated his schedule so that he "happened" to be investigating something near where the players were training, or assigned himself a particular task that would put him in proximity to Ginny.
It had almost gotten out of control once. Yes, there had been a legitimate need to investigate the potions and salves the trainers used to relieve players' muscle aches, but a couple of weeks ago Harry had watched three different Harpies go in and out of the training room for treatment before he'd finally "decided" that it was time to observe how the ingredients were used during a massage. Ginny had almost been late for a team meeting, all because he couldn't control his randiness. Not to mention that it was against their "rules" for him to do anything so un-spontaneous. He knew he wasn't being fair and even though it had taken all his self-control not to seek her out during his week in the office, he'd been able to do it.
"Harry?" Senior Auror Scott Meyers stuck his head into Harry's office. "Hey, I picked up a bunch of sandwiches and things at that new shop across the street." He held up a large paper bag. "You interested? I know it's a bit early, but I have to teach an evidence workshop this afternoon and I'm in a hurry." He grinned. "And your secretary strongly suggested that I make sure you eat something before you, and I quote, 'waste away from working too hard.'"
Harry waved his wand and banished all the papers from his desk. "Definitely. I can't make heads or tails of this report right now." He conjured another chair for Scott. "And I wouldn't want Astella to worry – she's almost as bad as Molly Weasley when it comes to making sure I eat enough."
An hour later, Harry was feeling a bit more relaxed. Scott had amused him with stories of his new baby daughter and Harry had been able to add his own anecdotes about his godson Teddy, whom he made a point to see nearly every week. Heading back from a quick meeting in the Auror department's lower level laboratory, he had just about convinced himself that he was being silly, staying away from Ginny the way he was. There was no reason at all he shouldn't contact her, he thought – they were friends after all – when there she was, walking away from the lifts with her father.
A multitude of thoughts flew through Harry's brain: a first, heady rush of excitement at seeing her again, relief that she appeared to be completely fine and unharmed, an almost immediate tightening between his legs that only increased when she unconsciously tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, exposing her pale, soft neck . . .
And disappointment. Ginny was standing there, putting on her outer cloak, kissing her father goodbye, and turning towards the floos. She'd been in the Ministry of Magic, upstairs in her father's office by the looks of it, she knew Harry had been working here all week, she was getting ready to leave, and she hadn't bothered to come say hello.
Had she seen him? Should he acknowledge her? Maybe she needs to get back to the stadium. I should just let her . . .
"Ginny, what a surprise!" Harry's legs and mouth completely ignored his internal thoughts and before he even knew what he was doing he'd walked over to Ginny and put his hand on her arm.
"Harry!" If Ginny had been trying to avoid him she certainly didn't show it in the wide smile that lit up her face when she saw him standing in front of her.
"Yeah, I just happened to be here, walking up from the labs, and I saw you standing here, with your dad, you know, and I thought I should say hello . . . so, hello." Harry's words came out in a rush and Ginny looked at him with an amused expression.
"Hello," she responded. "I've just had lunch with my dad. It had been a while since I'd been to his office."
"Right," said Harry. He turned to Arthur. "Hello, Mr. Weasley." For some reason, although Harry was now perfectly comfortable calling Ginny's mum "Molly," he still couldn't bring himself to her father by his first name.
"How many times do I have to tell you to call me Arthur, Harry? Especially now – Ginny's been telling me all about how you've been so busy protecting her and the rest of the team."
"All part of the job, Mr. Wea . . . I mean, Arthur," said Harry uncomfortably. Talking about what his job required him to do for the Harpies drifted a little too close to exactly what Harry was doing for a particular member of the team, off hours. Ginny could obviously read his thoughts because she grinned wickedly at him and then fingered the collar of her traveling cloak, loosening it a bit.
Harry swallowed. "Well, ummm, I'd better be getting back to work. I, uhh, still have a lot of paperwork to get through."
"Right then, Harry," said Arthur. "I don't want to keep you from your work – not with everything that's been going on lately." He shook Harry's hand then, holding on an extra moment and looking Harry square in the eye. "You don't know how much better it makes Molly and I feel, knowing that you're the one keeping an eye on our daughter here. There's no better man for the job, that's for certain."
"I really appreciate that," Harry managed. "I'll do my best sir, you know that."
"I know you will, Harry," Arthur turned back to Ginny. "And I'll see you again soon, okay, hon? In the meantime, be extra careful and do whatever Harry tells you to. I want you to stay safe."
Harry was impressed that Ginny didn't roll her eyes at her father's speech. Instead she gave him a hug and said "of course, daddy," before waving him off to the lifts and turning to smile at Harry.
Harry stood awkwardly in front of her. Now what the hell do I do?
"Er, do you want me to walk you to the floo?" As if she can't make it there herself – its ten feet away.
It may have been his imagination, but Ginny's expression seemed to fall ever so slightly. He hurried to fill the silence. "Or! Um, you could . . . come see my office, if you wanted."
Ginny's smile returned, but she still looked a bit uncomfortable. "Only if you want me to . . . if I wouldn't be interrupting anything important . . ." her voice trailed off.
Harry let his face relax into an honest smile. "Only about a thousand hours of reviewing a sleep-inducing report," he said. "And didn't your dad just tell you to do whatever I say?" Impulsively he grabbed her hand and tugged. "Come on."
Ginny smiled a real smile this time. "Okay."
Awkwardness returned while they were waiting for the lift to arrive. They hadn't seen each other since Harry had left the Burrow – still hungover – over a week earlier, and Harry wondered if the two of them needed to talk about anything. But he couldn't stop thinking about why Ginny hadn't come to see him herself – she'd been only two floors away from his office, and how hard would it have been to pop in for a minute?
Leave it, Harry. Don't push her, remember? Anyway, she's coming up now.
"So . . . why didn't you come up to say hello? Since you were here, after all."
Way to go, Potter.
Ginny looked surprised. "I thought I shouldn't interrupt you," she began uncertainly. "My dad said he'd heard you've been here practically around the clock."
"All the more reason I could use a break – your type of break especially." Harry kept his voice deliberately light, but somehow he suspected that Ginny could see through his words to the need underneath.
Ginny looked at him for a long moment, as if considering something. Then she smirked. "Ohhh, you mean that kind of break, do you, Potter?"
Harry relaxed. They were going to do this. He decided to tease her a bit back, and feigned confusion. "Huh? What do you mean – that kind of break? Is there more than one kind, Ginny? I mean, I just took a lunch break with Meyers – is that the kind of break you mean?" He waggled his eyebrows at her and his stomach plunged when her eyes traveled slowly and appraisingly down his body – stopping for a long moment at the area below his belt.
"I wouldn't say lunch, exactly," she said slowly. Her voice had gotten very quiet now that they were on the lift and other people were around. "Dessert, maybe. I think I need at least a taste of something, you know?"
Harry swallowed hard as they got off the lift. "Umm, my office is just down this way," he said, gesturing.
"Yes, Harry, I know," said Ginny with amusement, following him in and shutting the door.
"Colloportus," Harry muttered, waving his wand. He was already shrugging off his robes and fumbling with his belt. "This is probably a very bad idea," he said, hoping desperately that Ginny didn't agree with him. She pulled off her traveling cloak and tossed it on the chair Harry had conjured earlier before reaching up under the skirt she was wearing and yanking down her knickers.
"Why is this a bad idea?" she asked.
Harry couldn't answer for a second – he was too busy watching Ginny lick her lips and begin to rub herself, under her skirt.
"Uhh . . .er . . . because . . ." Harry began. It had been a very long week and he couldn't seem to make his mouth work. Ginny took that moment to use her free hand to start unbuttoning her shirt and Harry gave up trying to speak – talking is overrated sometimes, he thought to himself, shuffling over to her as quickly as he could, given that his trousers were down around his ankles.
Ginny giggled at him and lifted her skirt higher, giving Harry a single, momentary glimpse of red curls before the door to his office suddenly rattled, freezing both of them in their tracks.
Knock knock knock. Harry? Are you in there? Kingsley.
Harry groaned. He suddenly remembered why trying to have sex in his office was such a bad idea - he couldn't close his office door for two minutes for any reason – even a quick kip – without someone wanting to get in immediately.
Kingsley banged again – more insistently. Harry was reaching down to tug up his pants - and trying to come up with some legitimate reason that he and Ginny would have been alone with the door locked – when she suddenly batted his hand away and jerked her head towards his desk. "Just sit!" she hissed, sliding out of sight beneath it.
Harry grabbed up his robes and hastily threw them around himself before lowering himself into his chair. He released the lock on the door and arranged his face into what he hoped was an appropriately thoughtful expression.
Which of course was difficult, given that he was sitting at his desk in his Auror's robes and no pants, with a half naked woman at his feet.
"Come in!" he called. As the door was opening Harry realized that his desk was still completely empty of the papers he had banished earlier. He had just managed to reactualize the report he'd been reading when Kingsley walked in, his expression wary.
"Is everything okay, Potter? Why was your door locked?"
Harry was still rattled. "Oh, umm, you know, just trying to get a little peace and quiet without interruptions. From the trainees, I mean," he added hastily. Not a good idea to tell one's boss that he's an interruption. He waved at the parchment in front of him. "I'm trying to make sense of the Quidditch report."
Kingsley nodded. "Ahh, yes. The Quidditch report. Do you have a moment to talk about that? All the trainees are in an evidence workshop so I can promise you no interruptions for a while." He smiled at Harry, who suddenly had the sneaking suspicion that the head Auror somehow knew that Ginny was under his desk and had just moved her hand up to rest on his bare thigh.
"Of course I have time," Harry said. He was horrified to hear his voice squeak at the end. He cleared his throat lustily. "Sorry, frog. Please, sit down."
Too late, he realized that the chair he was showing Kingsley still had Ginny's traveling cloak laying across it. Shit, shit shit! Not only did it clearly belong to a woman, but the double H logo of the Holyhead Harpies was emblazoned across the back.
"What's this?" asked Kingsley, picking it up.
"Evidence," gasped Harry, swallowing hard. Ginny's hand was now firmly on his rapidly hardening penis. She was right between his legs; Harry could feel her head resting against his inner thigh, her hair trailing down his leg.
Think of Kingsley, think of Kingsley, he chanted silently to himself. The man was still looking at him curiously and Harry struggled for control. "Umm, Ginny Weasley gave it to me because . . . er . . . I wanted to have it tested for residue. From that last explosion of muscle-freezing gas."
Ginny's hand was moving up and down now, and even though part of Harry's brain was screaming at him to push her away until he could get Kingsley out of his office, the rest of him was concentrating on the way her hand felt, moving on his smooth skin, and the tiny pulsing thrusts he couldn't help but make into her hand, and which he hoped were not obvious in the part of his body that was above the edge of the desk.
"Shouldn't this be down in the lab?" Kingsley was frowning, moving the cloak gingerly to an evidence cart he conjured.
"Um, well, she just dropped it off," Harry managed. "She was at the Ministry to have lunch with her father and I ran into her." Ginny's hand had stopped moving, and Harry allowed himself to relax a fraction. She lifted it away from his penis, and he breathed out, straightening himself in his chair. "What did you want to talk about?" he asked Kingsley calmly.
A moment later, Ginny replaced her fingers with her tongue.
It was all Harry could do to keep Kingsley from seeing him buck his hips up into the underside of the desk. He squeezed the armrests of his chair so tightly he was surprised they didn't break off in his hands. Ginny was licking him up and down like he was a fucking ice cream cone – hadn't she mentioned wanting dessert? – and Harry thought he'd never felt anything so good in his life.
Even though it's at the absolutely the wrong time. Heh. More like because it's at the absolutely wrong time.
Now Ginny's lips replaced her tongue and Harry froze. If she takes me completely in her mouth I'm done for. She must have realized that because instead she focused on feather light kisses, starting at his tip (with another light flick of her tongue that made Harry's eyes cross), on down to the base of his penis. One hand was gently stroking his sac, and when she began using her tongue again Harry had to fake a sudden, intense coughing fit to hide his moan.
"Harry, is everything all right?" Kingsley looked concerned.
Oh, it's nothing, sir. Just my ex-girlfriend giving me head underneath my desk.
"Fine . . . sir," Harry gasped. Idiot! Kingsley isn't blind! Harry changed tactics just as Ginny changed her position and began rubbing her hands up and down his length while her tongue circled the head of his penis. "Actually, I . . . I'm not feeling so well. Uhh . . . I had a sandwich earlier from that new shop across the street and now my stomach's a bit upset."
As if to prove his point, Harry couldn't hold back a moan when Ginny pushed her lips against his tip, opening her mouth slowly as Harry involuntarily thrust inside. She swirled her tongue around and Harry shifted roughly in his seat and stifled a second moan.
"Do you need to go to the infirmary?"
"No . . . I'll be okay, soon, I think." Harry swallowed hard. Be an Auror, Harry, be an Auror. What have you learned about distractions? He'd lectured his trainees just the other day about the importance of being able to stay completely focused and on-task, even in the face of surprises and danger.
And if Ginny sucking me off in front of my boss doesn't count as "danger", I don't know what does.
With superhuman effort, Harry pulled his attention back to Kingsley. One half of him was thoroughly enjoying feeling Ginny stroke and lick and kiss – oh Merlin, that felt good - while the other began having a conversation about the latest intelligence on the attacks.
Kingsley still looked suspicious, but he settled into his chair and looked seriously at Harry.
"I'm moving you to cover the Earlham Eagles, starting next week after their game against the Harpies." He gave Harry the kind of look Harry knew meant that argument was futile. He couldn't help but protesting anyway.
"What? Sir . . . but the Harpies – did you see this report? They've been targeted more than any other team!" Underneath the desk, Ginny's mouth stopped moving. Harry didn't know if she'd heard what Kingsley said, but she couldn't have missed Harry's response. He froze. Had she been aware of that?
After a moment's pause, Ginny must have decided not to worry about what was going on above the desk. She began to stroke him softly again in a way that Harry knew was designed to bring on his orgasm gradually. It was delicious torture, and he wished he could give into the sensations completely. He leaned forward in his chair. To Kingsley, it looked as if Harry was about to try to press his point. But actually, the movement pushed Harry's penis forward towards Ginny's mouth again, and she obligingly began to suck. Keep it light, Ginny, please, Harry silently begged. He didn't know how much longer he could keep up the façade. As it was, his hips were beginning to jerk rhythmically against Ginny's lips and Harry felt the beginnings of his orgasm growing in his back. He shuddered and took a deep breath.
"Why do you need me on the Eagles? Isn't that Dirkson's job?"
"Dirkson is needed to cover Tutshill – after the attack in the training room with more of those stinging plants, we're an Auror short there. And our intelligence is pointing toward an uptick in activity around Earlham. Wolfe will cover the Harpies with a couple of the more senior trainees. Bindi and Gavin will be assigned there and are more than adequate."
I'll bet Leandra will love that, thought Harry to himself. He knew he probably should argue his case for staying with the Harpies more, even though he knew that Kingsley wasn't going to change his mind. But Ginny's slow ministrations – combined with the heady rush of being pleasured right in front of his boss - had succeeded in making Harry so hard that he was ready to explode. She drew him farther into her mouth and Harry knew he had to get Kingsley out of his office – soon.
"Okay, right," he said tersely. "After the next match. In the meantime I'll talk to Dirksen about the Eagles and brief Wolfe on the Harpies so he knows . . . what to expect."
Kingsley grinned. "Wolfe is a married man. Make sure you remind the players about that – or else I'm sure his wife will."
Harry nodded. He was quite beyond words because his penis was almost to the back of Ginny's throat and she was sucking deeply. He had no idea how he was keeping still enough to hide the situation from Kingsley, especially when another moan escaped his lips. He dropped his head to his hands.
"You should really see the medi-witch," said Kingsley. He stood up then and Harry almost screamed with relief. "Let me know if you end up going home early, and make sure you get that traveling cloak down to the lab."
"Yes sir," Harry managed. He raised his head. "I'll have my thoughts on this report to you by tomorrow as well."
"Very good," said Kingsley, turning towards the door. Harry took the opportunity to give into his overwhelming urge to thrust. Ginny's hands were on both his thighs and she was trying to draw him closer to her and Harry dropped his hands below the desk to run his fingers through her hair. Kingsley stopped and turned back around and Harry only just managed to pull his hands away and back onto the report before it looked to Kingsley that Harry was trying to masturbate at his desk.
"And Harry, thank you for being professional about this and understanding the need to move you. I know that it's . . . personal for you and the Harpies – because of your connection to the Weasleys."
If he only knew just how 'personal' things were right now, he'd probably have my head – if anything's left of it after Ginny's finished.
"Yes sir," replied Harry. More words were beyond him.
And then Kingsley was blessedly gone and the door was closed and resealed and silenced. Harry let out the groan he'd been holding in for almost fifteen minutes and leaned back in his chair, moving his hands back down to Ginny's head. She paused only a second to grin up at him and push his chair back enough to emerge from under the desk before she lowered her head down again and began sucking in earnest.
Harry couldn't stop his hips from bucking up and down against her; he'd gone almost mental trying to keep still and now he let his orgasm build without holding back. Ginny's tongue flicked and swirled and her hands caressed his thighs, cupped his sac, and then finally wrapped tightly around his lower waist as she pulled him as far into her mouth as she could.
I have to watch. There was almost nothing sexier to Harry than seeing Ginny going down on him, and watching her giving him a blow job while he sat at his desk in the Ministry of Magic was overwhelming. With a grunt, he exploded into her mouth; the sight of her throat moving as she swallowed made him wish he could do it all again, right now.
When he was finally done, Ginny sat back with a sigh and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Harry summoned her a cup of water from the pitcher he kept on his desk and handed it to her. She smiled in thanks and slowly unfolded herself from beneath the desk, letting her legs splay out in front of her.
"I'm going to be stiff tomorrow," she said, massaging her legs.
Harry felt immediately guilty. "I'm sorry, I had no idea he'd be here so long."
"Stop it, Harry. This was my idea, remember?" She giggled. "I can't believe you managed to have a conversation without Kinsley realizing what was going on."
"Me neither," said Harry ruefully, rubbing his chin. "Actually, Kingsley's pretty sharp. I'm sure he didn't buy my story about having a stomach ache. I'm just lucky he didn't think I was possessed or something. He might have tried to hex me." He looked down at Ginny. "Thanks. That was pretty . . . spectacular."
Ginny punched him lightly on the leg. "My pleasure, Potter. That was quite an experience for me too."
"Do you want me to . . ." Harry reached down to Ginny and cupped her breast through her still open shirt.
Knock knock knock "Harry! Are you in there? Kingsley said you wanted to talk about the change in assignments."
Harry sighed and withdrew his hand. "Probably not such a good idea to try for a repeat." He stood up and finally pulled up his trousers as Ginny got up and started buttoning her shirt.
"Just a second," Harry called to Cabot Dirkson. "I uhh, need to take something to the lab first, then I'll stop in."
Ginny raised her eyebrows. "You're really taking my cloak to the lab? Gwenog will kill me."
"Nah, I'll just walk you out and let the lab know that I had the wrong cloak."
But in the hallway, Harry was accosted by his secretary, who had a mountain of parchment for him to sign and a number of Aurors were lining up to talk to him about the rearranged work assignments, so Harry had to just wave goodbye to Ginny and let her leave by herself. He made a mental note to make sure she knew he wouldn't be with the Harpies after their next game and then turned his mind back to work.