Chapter 2

Ginny knew that Harry was following her. She didn't need to glimpse his coated-figure in the shop windows as she rushed along. She knew Harry Potter of old. And she remembered all too clearly just how determined he could be. A little sob caught in her throat and she put on even more speed, even though she knew her flight was doomed to failure.

Her mind was in turmoil. She had been shocked when Harry had spoken from right beside her back in the café. Her heart had stopped, she was sure it had, but the reason, despite her emphatic mental denials, was not entirely horror at having been found; it should have been, she wished it had been, but no, a powerful wave of joy had also risen in her at the sound of that voice.

She had been unable to prevent it. It was as if she had been waiting to be found—waiting for him. Perhaps it had just been a side-effect of her cardiac arrest, but her heart had swollen to twice its normal size, making breathing difficult. The lack of oxygen combined with the wave of emotion that had swamped her, was what had made her light-headed.

But her indisposition had not lasted long before anger had come to her rescue. She didn't want to be found. And she didn't want Harry bloody Potter with his amazing eyes and his sexy voice and his new elegance to affect her like he did, not when he had never, ever shown the slightest interest in her. Her frustration and fear had exploded out of her and she had really given him what for.

But then he had told her a few things and she had almost fallen apart again. It wasn't just the content of his lecture; she had been so close to howling after hearing about how her disappearance was still haunting her mum and dad, but the sound of Harry's voice made everything he said so much more poignant. It was almost Snape-like in its mesmeric quality, and when she had managed to look up, those emerald eyes had pierced her soul anew. Ever since she had first seen Harry, his eyes had held her in their thrall.

All she had wanted to do was to throw herself into his arms…to cry on his shoulder and beg him to make her world right again. But then, she had remembered that her world was not the world it had once been and it never would be again. And even Harry Potter, her 'once upon a time' daydream love, could not change that.

Ginny threw another panicked glance to the side; Harry was reflected in the large plate-glass window of the shop she was passing. For a wild moment, she just wanted to stop and stamp her feet and clench her fists and scream at the top of her lungs. And then, almost without her volition, her pace slowed.

What am I doing? He will follow me for as long as it takes.

She couldn't race around the streets all night. She had to get out of this cold. The snow was coming down harder now and she was freezing, despite her unaccustomed activity. She wasn't dressed for snow. She had planned to be home much earlier but she had become caught up in her writing.

Why not let Harry see her circumstances now? Why not let him take the tale home to her family? She had run away from them because she knew that they would hold her in utter contempt if they found her out. She knew Ron had been furious with her; she had never known him to be so angry. She just knew he would have told the family…well, told them everything he knew, anyway.

Well, why not let them find out? Then, she would be left alone to get on with her life as best she could. She really didn't have a choice, did she? Harry was not going to give up.

Ginny stood still and watched the few people still on the street as they hurried on their way home, bundled up in clothes a lot more suited to snow than her jeans and jumper. She heard Harry's crunching footsteps stop behind her. She took a deep breath; this was the second hardest thing she had ever had to do in her life. She half turned to face the window; she could not look directly at him.

"You're not going to leave me alone, are you?"

After a short silence, Harry shook his head. "I can't, Ginny." He sounded regretful, but determined.

Ginny bit her lip then nodded her head once. "Fine."

Without another word, she set off again. Her minute of inactivity had set her teeth chattering violently and she wrapped her arms tightly around her torso. Suddenly, she felt a warm, heavy weight settle over her shoulders. She stopped walking and froze for a couple of seconds before spinning around to face Harry.

He raised his eyebrows at the look of stunned indignation on her face. "You're freezing," he said simply. Before she could object, Harry dragged the strap of her bag off her shoulder and began to thread her arms through the too-long sleeves of his coat as if she was a child.

Automatically, she resisted his efforts. She did not need his coat and she certainly did not need him touching her. "I don't need your coat. You do not have to play the hero!"

Harry ignored her and overlapped the two fronts of the coat. "Indulge me. I know how tough you are, Gin. I know you're a strong, independent woman." He ran his hand impersonally down the length of the outside edge of the coat. "But I'm a gallant Gryffindor, remember?"

When Harry stepped back, the coat stayed fastened tightly around Ginny's slight body. She looked down, flabbergasted. She was wrapped in a cashmere cocoon. She knew that she would not be able to undo the coat until Harry was prepared to let her take it off. The coat had only flapped around his calves but it fell to Ginny's ankles. And it was wonderfully warm. Determined not to show gratitude for his overbearing behaviour, Ginny snatched her bag from where it hung on Harry's wrist and spun away, storming off in high dudgeon.

How dare he! How bloody dare he! Did she ask him for his stupid coat? Well, he could just freeze his bum off for all she cared!

Harry shook his head. "You're welcome," he murmured, following the small, irate bundle of vibrating fury.

`~HPGW~

Ginny rushed along for another five minutes with Harry easily keeping pace with her. She did not direct one word at him but maintained a stony, disapproving silence. Harry now walked beside her and he was sure his audacity made her even more irritable. It was pitch black now and the snow was coming down faster. Harry wondered how much further they had to go when, without warning, Ginny swung into the driveway of a large brick house. Harry walked on a few paces before he realised she had veered off course and he quickly back-tracked and followed his guide along the driveway, past the narrow path leading to the front door, and down past the house.

Ginny withdrew a wonderfully warm hand from a coat pocket and thrust it through a hole in a tall wooden gate that closed offblocked the narrow space between a large brick garage with a dormer window set way above the old fashioned wooden doors, and the corner of the house. Harry heard a latch click and Ginny pushed the gate open, and marched through, leaving Harry to follow and shut the gate.

Harry blinked as a movement-activated spotlight set on the back wall of the house, blazed with light, illuminating a portion of a neat back yard, specifically the section that contained a concrete path that hugged a narrow flower bed beside the side wall of the garage. Ginny had followed this path and when Harry caught up with her, she had just finished unlocking a side door about halfway along the garage wall. A large window was set next to the door, with another set high above it. On the far side of the door was a high trellis with the bare bones of a winter-denuded climbing rose twisted around its many wooden slats.

Ginny reached her arm through the gap in the open door, and a fluorescent light blinked into life. The garage housed a lovingly maintained royal blue, Ford Sierra Sapphire, taking up pride of place in the middle of an almost pristine concrete floor. There was a shadow board on the back wall holding all the basic household tools, and an extremely neat work bench under it. Harry doubted the work bench had seen any handyman activity for quite some time. Set high in the wall opposite the door, was a long narrow window that would let in more natural light. There was no sign of the dormer window he had seen from the outside; the ceiling of the garage was too low. Harry assumed the dormer was set in a room above the garage.

She lives above a garage?

As Harry was scanning the nearly empty space, Ginny was hurrying up a narrow, banistered wooden staircase that hugged the wall; the bottom tread was just to the side of the door. Ginny had disappeared through a door at the top before Harry was halfway up. He finished the ascent and stepped into a small flat.

A quick scan showed him a narrow galley-style kitchen separated from the living area by a bench with a bright yellow laminate top. A small, square dining table with two chairs sat at the end of the bench. The lounge area was taken up with an old fashioned, russet-coloured velour sofacouch covered with a multi-coloured patchwork, crocheted rug, a small television on a faux- wood and metal stand, and a long, scratched and pitted pine coffee table. There were three raffia boxes lined up neatly under the table and a fully laden clothes horse sitting next to a gas heater set against the far wall. The room was lovely and warm, and though small and a little shabby, it was cosy, and scrupulously clean.n and tidy.

Ginny was standing beside the sofa, struggling to get Harry's coat off. Harry shut the door to keep the heat in and immediately he had done this, Ginny stamped her foot and rounded on him.

"Do you mind?" She gestured at the overlapping coat fronts with an impatient hand and Harry grinned disarmingly.

"Sorry about that. But I didn't want you cutting off your nose to spite your face by tearing it off and throwing it back at me. You were freezing." He produced his wand—from where, Ginny wasn't sure—and undid the sticking charm that had kept her enshrouded in the wonderful warmth of softest cashmere. Ginny had never even touched cashmere before, but she wasn't going to let on that she was grateful for the use of the coat because of the high handed manner in which Harry had forced her into it.

After throwing the coat across the sofa arm, Ginny grabbed a towel off the clothes horse before stalking into the kitchen. She picked up the kettle and shook it to determine how full it was. After switching it on, she stood with her back to Harry and started to dry her hair. The usually bright, flame-red locks had darkened considerably with the moisture. Harry watched interestedly as Ginny bent at the waist, flipping her hair forward so that she could rub the length vigorously between her towel covered hands. After about thirty seconds of industrious effort, she straightened and flipped the hair back.

Harry had enjoyed the show and that must have shown when Ginny turned back to face him because she raised her chin to hitherto unknown heights. She knew her hair looked like rat's tails, but she refused to go to the bathroom to run a comb through it. She no longer felt the need to try to impress Harry Potter.

"So, you've seen where I live," she said tersely as she retrieved two mugs from a cupboard and placed them on the bench. "You can see that my accommodations are perfectly adequate and that I am perfectly happy."

Harry thrust his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "You live in a flat above a garage, Gin. You're a pure-blood witch and for some reason, you're living as a Muggle. At least, I presume you're living as a Muggle, as I have yet to see you use any magic."

"Unlike yourself!" said Ginny nastily, glaring at Harry with as much vitriol as she could muster. "Doing magic at every opportunity that presented itself. Doesn't the International Statute of Secrecy apply anymore?"

"It does. But you know very well that the Muggles that were in that café, and the ones on the street, saw nothing that they could not explain.

"Only because you Obliviated them," argued Ginny, hotly.

"I made them forget your untruthful accusation, that's all. They will remember everything else."

Ginny pulled open the small fridge and brought out a carton of milk. When she turned back, Harry saw that her cheeks were red. "If you had just left me alone, I wouldn't have had to resort to lies. Do you still take milk in your tea?"

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Good memory, Gin."

"Don't call me Gin!" she bit out as she pushed a mug across the bench so hard, some of the liquid slopped over the edge. With a tut of irritation, she grabbed her discarded towel and soaked up the spill. Harry smartly lifted his mug out of the way before it was knocked again.

"You never used to mind 'Gin'," Harry said, walking the few steps to the sofa and sitting down. He nearly spilledt his drink himself when his left buttock made contact with something hard hidden under the rug.

Taking his weight on his right buttock, he put his mug on the coffee table and delved beneath the rug. Ginny had gone strangely still and when Harry pulled his prize out, her face was paler than he had yet seen it.

Harry held up a yellow, plastic car with large blue wheels and a big red button on top; when heHarry pressed the button and the car squeaked. Ginny had sunk into one of the chairs comprising the dining setting and her wide eyes were fixed on the toy. Harry held it up.

"Yours?"

"I…I babysit."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Indeed?"

Ginny's brows drew together. "Indeed?" She jumped to her feet and stalked across to Harry and snatched the car from his grip. "Are you channelling Professor Snape?"

"Maybe I am. I see enough of him. And he's still a miserable bastard. But, you will be pleased to hear, now that he no longer has to pander to Voldemort, he no longer has to look the part of the slimy, evil Death Eater. He actually keeps his hair clean now."

Ginny mouth had fallen open; she couldn't help herself and she asked said., "You still see Snape? Is he still at Hogwarts?"

"He is. Mouldering away in his dungeons, experimenting with potions and writing a weighty tome that he is going to call, 'The Definitive Defence Handbook'. Have you heard that Voldemort is dead?"

Ginny looked cornered. She nodded curtly but rather than look at Harry, she bent down and partly slid one of the raffia boxes forward a little and dropped the car into it. Then she rose and went to retrieve her mug of tea. Still keeping her gaze averted, she took several deep draughts. But when Harry leaned down and pulled another of the baskets out, her head snapped up.

"Do you mind?" she snapped, crossing the small space with agitated steps. Harry was now holding a bright pink ostrich with long, orange rope legs and overlarge orange feet. It had an abundance of long pink feathers for a tail and a coxcomb made out of pink fluff. Ginny snatched this second toy out of Harry's hand and threw it back into the box, shoving it back under the table with her foot.

"You do a lot of babysitting, then?" asked Harry.

"I do enough." Her tone was defensive and she realised this because she took a deep breath and when she next spoke, it was with forced restraint. "So, Harry, what do I have to do to convince you that I am not going to go back with you?"

Harry leaned back and gazed at the agitated young woman before him. Her hair was a total mess but now that it was drying, bright strands of the red glory were separating from the still damp tresses and forming a fiery corona around her head. Ginny saw where his attention was focused and against her will, her hand crept up to smooth the rats-tails.

"What do I have to do to convince you that it would be impossible for me to forget that I have seen you when your family are desperate for word of you?"

Ginny spun away.

"I couldn't live with the guilt, Ginny."

"But you could live with the guilt of knowing that you are disrupting my life."

Harry stared at her hard. "What in the hell has happened to you? You were never heartless and uncaring before." He sprung to his feet and began to pace up and down. "For God's sake Ginny, you parents try to get on with their lives for the sake of your brothers, but there is always something there…something in their eyes. They can't even enjoy their grandchildren as much as they want to because your disappearance haunts them. And the boys aren't much better. They all adored their baby sister too."

A little sob escaped Ginny and she put her hand over her mouth. "Grandchildren?" she whispered through her fingers. Harry could see that her eyes were moist. He knew she was focusing on the part of his story that she knew nothing about, because it was too painful for her to dwell on her parents and brothers.

"You've missed a lot in the time you've been gone. Bill and Fleur still got married when planned; they just didn't have a celebration because they were all still in mourning." Ginny spun away and walked stiffly into the kitchen, but Harry continued remorselessly. "They now have two boys, Guy and Leon. Charlie married one of his fellow dragon-keepers, Devon, and their son, Sam, was born about four weeks ago."

Ginny lowered her head and covered her eyes with a hand. "You're an aunty, Gin, and you will soon have another sister-in-law. Ron and Hermione are getting married on the sixth of January."

Ginny remained hidden behind her slightly shaking hand for well over a minute. Finally, she swallowed and taking a deep breath, she raised her head and looked at Harry. "I'm glad for them," she said in little more than a whisper.

"Not before time," said Harry with a smile.

"Do they still argue?"

Harry grinned. "Constantly. But it's what they do best…well, I suppose they make up pretty effectively too."

Ginny looked like she might grin, but at the last second she turned her back to him. Harry saw her shoulders rise and fall with another deep breath. Suddenly, a strident buzzing noise filled the silence and Ginny started violently. She stared, wide-eyed at the wall near the dining table; Harry saw an intercom that he hadn't noticed before now. He

Harry raised his eyebrows in question, but a second long buzz broke Ginny's paralysis and she almost ran to get to the small plastic box.

When she pressed the button, a female voice, slightly distorted by static, immediately said, "You back then, Ginny. Bon…"

Ginny cut the woman off; her voice shaky and louder than it needed. "Yes, Faith, I'm back. I have a visitor, so I'll see you laterbut I'll be with you soon. Okay?" She released the button before Faith could respond. Harry watched as Ginny squared her shoulders before turning back to face him.

"Tha…that was my landlady. She likes to check that I'm home safe and sound."

"Sort of a surrogate mother?" asked Harry with cruel intent. Ginny's chin wobbled and she looked perilously close to tears, but then she raised that little chin proudly and glared at Harry.

"You might say that. But unlike the real deal, she minds her own business; she doesn't dictate and she doesn't set unattainable goals that she expects her children to aspire to."

Harry's lips set in a thin line. For the first time, he looked angry. "Your mother only ever wanted the best for you. She loved you; still loves you, though it's apparent that you don't deserve that love."

Ginny's arm shook as she pointed towards the door. "Get out!"

Harry swept his coat up and headed for the door. "I'll go. But I'll be back tomorrow, with your parents in tow."

He didn't see the anguish on Ginny's face. "Let them decide if they still want you back."

He clattered down the stairs and had reached to open the side door when Ginny's frantic entreaty came from above. "Harry…please! You can't tell them."

Harry's hand dropped and he turned to look up at the thin figure silhouetted in the lighted doorway. Before he could open his mouth to respond, though, the door beside him was thrust open quite violently and hit Harry in the shoulder. Harry swore and grabbed his upper arm, turning to automatically berate whomever had nearly knocked him into the middle of next week.

He never uttered an admonishment though. A middle-aged woman carrying a large bundle hurried over the threshold, her head bent against the now driving snow, and one hand holding a mackintosh in place over the top of the substantial bundle.

Several things happened at once. The woman said an impatient, 'sorry' to Harry. Ginny, who had silently and rapidly descended the stairs, buffeted him out of the way so that he staggered sideways into the garage; she then reached for the bundle which wriggled and squirmed, and a quavery little voice from under the waterproof cover, said, "Mummy.".

The woman released the talking, squirming bundle into Ginny's arms, saying as she did so that she was sorry, but Bonnie had a slight fever and wanted Mummy and that it was obvious that she wasn't going to settle. The mackintosh slipped and Harry stared, his mouth open in shock as a tiny girl with white-blonde hair wriggled her arms free so that she could cling like a limpet to Ginny. Ginny held her close and rocked her from side to side, her mouth against the silky hair, where she bestowed tiny little kisses between whispered words of comfort.

'Mummy' eventually raised her eyes and glared challengingly at Harry. She thanked the woman—Faith, Harry assumed—and without another word, she turned on her heel and headed back upstairs. Faith nodded tersely at him and sallied forth into the driving snow, slamming the heavy door behind her. Harry was left standing alone, staring after Ginny and the child who appeared to be her daughter.

Harry was in shock. He shook his head to try and clear it, and then not having any other choice, he ascended the stairs again.

TBC...