Here it is, Chapter 8! It's a little later than I thought, but I promised a chapter tonight and here it is. A chapter. Tonight. I hope you guys like it!

Harry woke up early and irritated Monday morning. His night had been spent yelling at the incompetent pencil pushers who couldn't seem to do a simple job of sorting. What's the reason for having extra help, if they just made for extra work.

"From now on," He told them, "If so much as a misplaced hair gets into her hands, I'll have your hides." He'd snarled at the quivering group of desk cops. Their fear had only irritated him more, and Kingsley told him to go home before he accidentally shot someone.

But once home, he'd tossed and turned in his bed. It was indescribably more comfortable than the little cot in Ginny's hall, but he found himself waking up every half hour to look at Ginny, who was not in his bedroom. The fact made him more frustrated, but then led to thoughts of Ginny in his bedroom. In his bedroom in nothing but her tight yoga pants. In his bedroom in nothing. In his bed…

He'd shot out of bed and straight into a cold shower at around four a.m. and hadn't been able to go back to sleep. He threw on some shorts and stalked to the room where he kept his work out equipment, then stopped short.

His treadmill was at Ginny's.

Fantastic. He'd muttered to himself. Just really great. He'd fixed coffee and gotten the paper. He held his mug and stared at the sports section for a long time before he balled the whole paper up and threw it in the trash. For the rest of the day, he sat on his couch watching soccer and the news with the volume turned up as loud as possible.

When he'd woken Tuesday morning to a raging TV headache, he'd decided not to do that again. This morning, he'd forced himself to read the whole paper, drink at least half of his coffee, and spend an hour on the rowing machine.

He felt much better after his shower, but then found himself staring blankly out his window. What had he done before Ginny? He'd been taking a leave of absence before getting put on her case, but he couldn't really remember how he'd spent his days. He laughed at himself. His life had not become centered around a little girl. He pulled out his phone at dialed Ron.

Soon, they'd made plans to meet at a pub Wednesday, and Harry spent the rest of his day giving his apartment a much-needed scrubbing.

When he woke up Wednesday, he had two voice mails from the police station. They'd finally had a break-through in Ginny's case. They'd gently scraped away the layers of sharpie, and found the original address the magazine had been sent to. The other message was from Kingsley, reminding Harry of a meeting they had on Thursday.

Harry showered and ran down the rest of his week. Meeting with Ron today, Kingsley on Thursday, then a day of rest on Friday before he went back to Ginny's. He grinned proudly into the foggy mirror. His world certainly did not revolve around Miss Weasley. And yes, she was Miss Weasley, not Ginny.

He spent two hours on the rowing machine, drank two cups of coffee, and read the paper slowly. His eyes caught on a story. "Weasley's Charity Gala: Event of the Season". He read closely, filing the information in his head.

Molly Weasley was putting on her annual charity gala to benefit the children's program she sponsored, Meals From Molly, for the inner-city youth that didn't always get regular nutrition. The gala this year was supposed to be the biggest yet, and all of New York's upper society was going to be there.

Harry hesitantly flipped the page when he was done. The gala was set for Friday night. Surely, Ginny wouldn't plan to go to such a risky event without him? He brushed the thought aside until he brought it up to Ron later than night.

"Of course she's going!" He'd said, darkly. "We all are. It's not optional." Ron peered down at Harry over his glass. "Why, do you think she'll use you as an excuse to get out of it? That conniving little…"

"No! I'm just…I'm not sure it'd be the best idea. I mean, I won't be there." Harry trailed off, weakly, taking a pointed interest in the pretzels. He could feel Ron looking at him.

"But she's with a suitable replacement, right?" He asked. Harry hastened to assure him that yes, Seamus Finnegan was a great cop, and she was in great hands.

"I just worry it might present the stalker with a non-united front. Consistency is key, in these situations." He covered smoothly, then directed conversation back to Hermione, who wanted him to come to the Granger-Possibly-Weasley household for dinner the next day.

On Thursday, when Harry woke, he decided he was done with the rower for a while. He put on his tennis shoes and headed out for a nice, long run before his meeting with Kingsley. His headphones were firmly planted in his ears, as they been most of the time he'd been home.

The silence that he'd loved so much before just seemed deafening without Ginny there to fill it. She had a way of making even the most boring day interesting, just with her chatter. Harry allowed himself to smile as he thought of her, knowing that out in the open, between only himself and his iPod, his indulgent thoughts were safe.

Harry lengthened his stride and let himself remember his favorite picture of a barely-clad Ginny coming out of bathroom in only a sports bra and tiny boxer style shorts. "No peeking, perv!" She'd smiled at him and rushed into the privacy of her closet to get a shirt. Not before Harry had seen a flush creeping up her neck. He let his thoughts wander in that general direction, musing about Ginny and what she was doing without him.

When he looked up and hour later, he knew that letting his thoughts lead him had been a bad choice. He ducked quickly around a corner when he saw Ginny and Seamus coming out of her building. Harry looked down at his feet and cursed them for taking him here without his permission. He risked another peek around the corner and saw them heading towards her work, laughing.

Harry frowned, but turned around and commanded his feet to take him home, no funny business this time. When he thought it was safe, he began to roll some things around in his brain.

They'd been laughing. Harry and Ginny never laughed. Ginny laughed at herself, or Harry stopped himself from laughing at her, but they never really did that together. Finnegan was a lucky guy, to be able to develop a real short-term relationship with her.

Yeah, really lucky. Harry thought icily, thinking of how Ginny had requested the rookie specifically. Were they close? He wondered. Then he remembered Finnegan hugging Ginny after the doll incident, how they'd gotten along really well since then. What had happened when he'd been gone…?

Nope. Harry shook his head harshly against that vein of thought and jogged up his front steps. Not going to go there. Ginny…Miss Weasley…is perfectly allowed to have as many friends as she wants. That's not my concern.

He was still convincing himself of this when he walked into Kingsley's office. They discussed Harry's leave of absence, if he was going to take it back up after this assignment, and the psych evaluation coming up next week.

"Well, is Miss Weasley being a bit more cooperative?" the Commander asked, walking Harry to the front door.

"Much, sir. She's got a problem with the gag rule, but other than that she's calmed down a lot." Shacklebolt nodded.

"I could tell this morning."

"This morning, sir?" Harry asked, stopping in front of the doors.

"Yes. She was here with young Seamus, discussing security measures for the Gala tomorrow." Kingsley waved at a co-worker. Harry tried to re-start his heart, which had stalled at this stunning news.

"So, she's going, then?" he asked. "She's going to a party, with over four-hundred people, in one of the biggest buildings in town, that has virtually zero safety precautions? And she's going without me?" Harry fought to keep his voice down.

"Is there a problem, Potter?" His superior looked down his nose at him. Harry cleared his throat.

"No, sir. I just think it's a good opportunity for the stalker to make themselves known, and I'd like to present a united front." Right, sure. Same load of crap he'd fed Ron. Except it didn't seem to have the same effect on Kingsley, who still looked mildly suspicious.

"Finnegan's a good agent, Potter, and a good man. We've been over the security reports back and front several times."

Harry pushed away the urge to hang his head sheepishly. Shacklebolt laid a heavy hand on Harry's shoulder.

"Working by the book is a good thing, son. But sometimes, an agent has to throw the book out the window and talk to the pretty soccer player."

This sentenced buzzed in Harry's head for the rest of the day, and wouldn't even be quiet at Hermione and Ron's. Was his Commander actually sanctioning a breach in protocol? Surely, not. And yet, that's what it had sounded like to Harry.

Was he so obvious that his own boss was calling him out on his infatuation for Ginny? Even after a very pleasant evening with the Granger-Possibly-Weasleys, Harry went to bed confused, and could hardly sleep.

When Harry finally gave up and sat up in bed early Friday morning, he had to admit to himself that he was not able to fill his life with much of anything anymore, without Ginny. It had only been four weeks, but it had been four weeks that had, somehow, changed him deeply.

He knew her, everything about her. And while she might not feel the same for him, exactly, because she had almost no knowledge of him, he was able to say with perfect certainty that he'd been listening to the girl talk for almost thirty days straight, and was fascinated by her, obsessed by her. His brain touched on another feeling, a deeper one, but he shied away from it, rubbing his tired, gritty eyes as he stepped into the shower.

The only comforting thought that Harry could find was that he'd see Ginny tomorrow morning, at the latest, and tonight, at the earliest, if she were up late enough. He shut off the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist. He had no jaunty grin for his smoky reflection, this morning. He hung his head and faced facts.

He didn't want to work out without Ginny, he didn't want to drink coffee without Ginny, and he certainly didn't want to read the paper without her and her witty commentary. He felt doomed to boredom.

He spent the rest of the day cleaning out the hazardously over-packed closets in the weight room, which hadn't been touched in years. It took him four hours to get through the first, but he looked around with satisfaction when it was done. The state of this first closet was enough to make even his Aunt Petunia proud, and that was saying something.

He moved on the second, pleased that he was keeping his mind off Ginny. That is, until he heard an ominous rustling when he lifted a large box from the depths of the storage space. He looked down and, sure enough, there was a large, rather saucy poster of Ginny Weasley staring back at him. He dropped the box unceremoniously beside him. Fortunately, he was pretty sure that it was merely filled with old academy sweatshirts.

"The soccer balls…" Harry groaned, crouching to pick the poster off of the floor. It was wrinkled and bent, but he was able to straighten it back out rather quickly. He grew hard rather quickly as well.

The problem, he thought, that comes with living with our own personal fantasy, is that you don't have much time to actually fantasize. He stared at the poster in apparent agony for a long time. It was true that he hadn't had a lot of opportunities to…take care of himself throughout his stay at Ginny's. He often woke up with a throbbing erection, but couldn't start in on his "happy time" right there in her hall. And it'd look suspicious if he showered before their workouts, so Harry had made tolerated, these past few weeks, with some of the horniest thoughts and bluest balls he'd ever known, even as a teenager.

Harry gently, reverently, laid the poster on the floor and hesitatingly sank his hand into his shorts. No time like the present, and all that… then his mind went blissfully blank, save for hot, flickering images of Ginny biting her soft lips, or running her hands over his body. Images of Ginny that he knew were wildly inappropriate and no where near bureau-approved. Ginny on her knees in front of him, teasing him with her hot mouth, her red hair tossed haphazardly over her shoulder, barely hiding the curve of her breasts…

Harry groaned loudly as he reached completion. He allowed himself a moment of recovery, panting and standing there, standing there at Ginny's siren eyes.

He whirled away in disgust, changing and cleaning himself quickly. How had he become this person? This man who was so infatuated that he was reduced to jerking off in front of a four-year-old picture of Ginny Weasley?

"Stupid." He muttered to himself. Masochistic. His brain chimed in. He had to agree to both accounts. He could barely go a week without the girl, and now he was pining after her and reduced himself to doing housework to get his mind off of her.

His cell phone rang from the other room, and he had to resist the urge to punch his own reflection as he passed the bathroom mirror.

All it took was a look down at his phone's screen, though, to pull him out of his melancholy thoughts.

"Seamus?" He answered, his heart immediately kicking into overdrive as he heard the familiar sound of sirens on the other end of the line.

"Agent Potter, sir, there's been an incident. We need an…an extraction? Sir…I'm so sorry."

"Give me five minutes." Harry breathed, snapping his phone shut and all but sprinting out the door. He barely paused to find his keys and pull shoes on his feet.

Seamus had sounded scared, really scared. And that terrified Harry. He had no idea the state that Ginny was in. Finnegan hadn't told him what had happened, but there hadn't been time for that.

All Harry knew was that Ginny was alive. The word, "extraction", was enough evidence of that. Seamus had hesitated to use it, though. It meant failure on the agent's fault. It meant that not only back up, but replacement was needed. It meant that whatever had happened, Seamus was scared enough to risk his job.

Harry pounded down the steps of his building to the covered garage where he'd parked his car. He'd never been more thankful for the sheer amount of horsepower that his baby possessed until that moment.

He slid into the driver's seat and flicked on the lights and siren that the bureau had installed a couple months ago. He wasn't planning on stopping for anything.

True to his word, within five minutes, he was pulling the Mustang to a stop in front of the Rochester building, a historic hotel known for its extravagant parties and even more extravagant guests. His heart leaped when he spotted a flash of red hair. He tore out of his car before realizing that it was Bill.

Another flash of red had him spinning to look at Fred or George. Harry didn't have time to decipher which one it was. He focused his eyes and stopped looking for red, but blue. Dark blue. Police blue. His eyes scanned and he found what he was looking for. Across the street, a group of six or seven policemen were making a small circle around the hood of a cruiser.

Harry ran flat-out. As soon as he was close enough, one of the officers spotted him.

"Potter!" The man shouted, waving him forward and making a break in the circle…to reveal a terrified and bedraggled Ginny Weasley.

Harry saw the transformation in her immediately when her eyes caught hold of him. Her face, which had previously remained admirably dry, became soaked with tears. Her shocked, slack expression transformed into one of hope and heartbreaking relief. Her arms reached up for him, inadvertently shrugging off the tuxedo jacket she'd had draped over her shoulders. She didn't seem to care and he certainly didn't.

They came together fiercely, clutching each other tightly. He heard numbers and statistics being thrown his way, and could guess at what they were, time of assault, number off officers in the area, or anything in between. He didn't care in the slightest.

For the first time in five days, he felt like he could breathe. He hadn't realized that his chest had been so constricted these past few days, but it was. He took one deep breath after another, feeling her frigid fingers find their way beneath his shirt to press against his bare skin. He still didn't know what had happened, but he knew that he had to get her out of here. He had to stop those terrible, soul-wrenching sobs that were echoing out of her mouth. He needed to get her safe and here, on this open street in the middle of downtown, was not safe.

He used one arm to tuck her head into his shoulder, and reached the other out to the closest officer, hardly noticing the man's curious look.

"I need the incident report before I take her home." He told the man, and watched as he searched the area frantically for the official report.

"One moment, sir." The man said, and walked purposefully out of the ring of officers. Beyond them, on the other side of the street and half-way in the road, Weasleys were everywhere, looking right at him. He couldn't read the looks on their faces from this far away, but took a guess that they were more than a little worried. He waved in their direction, letting them know that he had the situation under control. As under control as he could, shaking, suffering a mild panic attack, and clutching their daughter so tightly that is was a miracle she could breathe.

The officer ran up, carrying with him an official-looking clipboard.

"Here's a copy of the report, sir." He said, handing it over. He kept an air of professionalism about him, despite the fact that Harry was firmly attached to a sobbing girl. Harry appreciated it.

"Is there anything else you need?" The man asked. Harry's appreciation raised a bit more.

"Get these streets clear. She doesn't need to be here, I'm taking her out." Harry hesitated, holding Ginny closer as her sobs increased. "What's your name?" He asked, wanting to know who was this helpful cop that was so efficient.

"Longbottom, sir. And no, that's not a joke." He smiled wryly at Harry and motioned for the cars around them to clear out. "Get her home safe, sir." Longbottom nodded to Harry as he half-carried Ginny out into the street to his car. Harry nodded back and opened the door, setting Ginny softly down on the seats. He looked around warily when he realized she wasn't letting go of his shirt. He could understand her feelings, he didn't want to be more than three inches away from her, either, but they didn't need any more attention.

"Ginny, I know. I know." He crooned in what he hoped was a soothing voice. In truth he was too shaken up to have any control of his vocal chords, and the words were more shaky than he'd wanted.

"I know, ok?" He repeated, peeling her hands off of his shoulders. "But this isn't the place, ok? You've had enough attention. You need to go home. I need to get you home…" He trailed off, looking around again and hoping they weren't making a scene.

"No!" Ginny's voice caught between her cries. "No! No-t-t h-home. It's not s-s-s-safe." She sobbed. He nodded once, understanding.

"Fine. We're going back to my place. But, Ginny, you have to let go." He said the last part softly, and he felt as though he had to coerce her into releasing him. When she finally did let go with a great shudder, Harry shut the passenger door and ran to the other side.

The officer, Longbottom, had done a good job, and when Harry started the car, the way in front of him was clear. He rocketed the Mustang out into traffic and gunned the engine. He glanced at the clock.

The whole maneuver in front of the hotel had taken less than three minutes, but he felt like years had been taken off of his life. Beside him Ginny was curled into the door, crying. He wanted to reach out and hold her, but kept his eyes on the road. There was time for that later. Now, his only objective was to get her away from the scene of…What? The crime? What had happened tonight to get her so shaken up?

Ginny was one of the most solid people he knew. He'd learned that much over the last weeks. So what had been so terrible to get her in this state?

He turned on his lights and blasted through a red light, barely missing a white mini-van as it crossed the intersection. He didn't even pause, but pressed the accelerator further to the floor, weaving in and out of traffic as fast as he could.

Finally, he was able to slide into his car into the covered lot and jam the gear into park. As soon as the car had stopped moving, he was reaching for Ginny.

She uncurled herself and pounced into his lap. She could barely fit between him and the steering wheel, but somehow maneuvered into a position where she was solidly in his arms. He buried his face in her hair.

"It w-was ho-hor-horrible." She cried into his neck, and his arms tightened around her. "The…the blades-s-s…" Harry found himself severely alarmed, despite the fact that he could barely understand her. He had been able to understand the word 'blades', though, and his hands rushed to her body, feeling for any blood. He found none, but pushed his confusion to the side.

He inhaled deeply, gathering her flowery scent into himself. His mind went curiously blank as he held her, let her cry herself out.

"Breathe, Gin. Just breathe, ok? Come on, take a deep breath for me." He repeated over and over. Finally, she seemed to come to. Her tears were still flowing, but she was able to inhale deeply. He nodded encouragingly.

"Can you make it upstairs?" He asked; his hands never stopped moving. They traveled from her face to her hair to her back and up again. He was feeling her, frantically, trying to do anything to calm her, and himself.

She nodded shakily and let him pop her out of his lap when he'd opened the car door. To his surprise, once they got out of the car, she moved quickly, following his hand on her back and his directions on where to go.

Harry heaved a great sigh when he had closed his solid, oak door behind them and was able to turn all four locks. No one was getting in tonight, he was sure of that. In the dark of his flat, he reached his hands out for Ginny, and she huddled against him once more. Her sobs were lessening, but her tears were still coming. Harry knew, logically, that it was the shock kicking in, and that her body was automatically shutting itself down, but in his frantic mind, he thought that maybe she just felt safer in his arms.

He held her for a long time in his entryway. Long past when his back started to cramp from supporting her. Eventually, he was able to register that his right hand was clutched tightly in her hair, and that a large hairpin was digging into his skin.

Next, he felt his left hand on her back, brushing against bare skin. His hand stilled, then traveled down…down…

"What are you wearing?" He whispered to her. She snorted and her body shook harder. He assumed that she was trying to laugh through the tears. He let the question go, saving it for a time when she could answer him properly.

Eventually, he guided them to his couch, and then collapsed on it. Harry was exhausted after so many sleepless nights, and Ginny, though trying with great effort to stop crying, was no longer in control of her body, which shook and clung to him. Harry didn't mind.

In time, the rushed movements of Harry's hand on her back slowed to something that could actually be considered "soothing", and Ginny's tears had slowed to a sniffle. It was then that Harry realized three things.

One: That Ginny's dress was swept considerably lower in the back than he'd originally anticipated.

Two: Ginny's dress also had a rather long slit up the front, that had allowed her to maneuver so that she was straddling him.

Three: That he had a very obvious erection.

Harry was mortified, and turned positively red when Ginny shifted, then stilled. She felt it, too. Her breathing caught and his hands tightened on her back as she slowly pulled away from him. He was sure that they made a funny picture, him in his jeans and her in her ball-gown, but he didn't care.

She looked down into his eyes and shifted again. Purposefully. Harry hissed.

"Ginny, stop. This isn't-"

"Please, Harry." She whispered. Her voice broke, and so did his heart along with it. A tear crept down her cheek. "It's been…terrible." She confided in him. Her nose shifted to slide along his, and he watched her eyes close.

"This night is horrible. Make it better." She pleaded. "Please, Harry. Help me. Make it-" Her face caved into more tears, but Harry didn't see.

His lips were suddenly on hers, and his breath froze in his lungs. He heard Ginny's breath catch, as well. He moved his lips softly over hers, and she opened them, quietly.

Before he could hold himself back, Harry plunged into her mouth and he'd crushed her body to his. Ginny moaned and her tongue eagerly battled with his.

The night was suddenly forgotten as Harry turned himself over to the blissful ignorance of kissing Ginny Weasley.

Oh! Bit of a cliff hanger, but don't worry, I plan on updating soon. Review if you like it, or if you don't! Thanks, guys!