Chapter Five

Thanks to those who have added this story as a favourite, or following or simply have just continued to read this story.

As always, these characters do not belong to me.

Ginny left the next evening after a phone call from her coach. He demanded her to have a fitness test before he allowed her to play in their next game. Ginny was reluctant to leave Harry and suggested several times that she should forget about football and focus on helping the Order. Harry urged her to, knowing she wanted to play. She had fidgeted with her bag, packing and repacking until she couldn't put it off any longer.

'You will be right, though. On your own,' Ginny had continued to ask anxiously.

'Relax, Ginny,' Harry told her, rolling his eyes. 'I will be on my best behaviour.'

'That's not what concerns me,' Ginny said right before she left.

Her tone conveyed something deeper to her anxiety. He stopped what he was doing and stared at her. She was fiddling with bag again, her bottom lip between her teeth. She glanced up at him, the anxiety in her voice matching her expression. Harry didn't even think before he pulled Ginny into his chest, hugging her tightly in reassurance. His eyes widened in surprise once he found what he was doing. It was a couple of seconds and then Ginny's arms were around his back. Her arms were small and comforting, her palms pressed lightly into his shoulder blades. His stomach fluttered.

'Focus on being fit to play,' Harry said gently, his voice husky. 'Don't worry about me.'

He cleared his throat and pulled away, smiling assuredly at her. He was acutely aware of when her hands left his back, squeezing his arms gently before leaving.

Ginny had been gone a week. She had explained to Harry it could take this long. Having no way to contact her or Ron and Hermione to contact him, Harry had willed away the longs days by turning Ginny's exercise room into his own. He wanted to maintain his fitness and strength and it was a good way to spend his time. At night, he wrote notes and descriptions on all of the Death Eaters he knew. He created rough sketches of the ones he had come face to face with or seen; grateful his artwork had improved over the years. He also jotted down previous plans and buildings owned and used by Tom Riddle and his followers. He didn't think they would use the same tactics as previous attacks but he needed to record it down. He wrote into the early hours of the morning, Arnold dutifully lying by his side.

When he wasn't toning his body or racking his brain, he was out in the yard, kicking around a soccer ball Ginny had left behind. He practised his juggling mostly, only taking two days to get back into his old rhythm. He had to remain indoors the past few days after he had spotted a couple of Ginny's neighbours walking through the street of a day time. He wasn't about to risk Ginny's own safety again so he spent it exercising his pent up energy. He was thinking about nothing in particular on the seventh day of Ginny's absence as he continued to complete another set of chin ups. Sweat rolled down his face and back and he was beginning to wonder why he had kept his singlet on for it was now drenched in sweat.

'So, all the shows about prisoners are true,' a voice mused from behind him. 'They really do work out in their spare time.'

Harry twisted to see Ginny, leaning on the doorframe, grinning. Harry dropped from the frame, exhaling loudly but also smiling bashfully. She was in jeans and her team jumper, her feet barefoot. Her hair was in a bun at the top of her head with some stray locks of hair falling from it. Harry's mouth went dry.

'I didn't realise you were back,' he replied, slightly breathless.

'I can tell, with all of this dude sweat going on here.'

Harry chuckled reluctantly. 'Got to keep fit some way and seeing as I'm confined to the house this was option A.'

Ginny looked around the room, nodding appreciatively. 'I see you've made your own modifications to the design.'

'Is that okay? I can change it back if that's what you prefer.'

'It's fine, Harry,' Ginny laughed. 'Man, I think this room made you weak instead.'

'Are you sure?' Harry asked, flexing his arm muscles. Ginny rolled her eyes. 'So, are you going to tell me how it went or are we just going to stand and admire me the rest of the day?'

'Damn, I was wrong. Solitary confinement changed you,' Ginny said with a snort. 'I passed their fitness test. They've cleared me to play next week.'

'That's great, Ginny!' Harry said enthusiastically. 'We should celebrate. I'll take a shower and start cooking.'

'Yeah you should, you smell,' Ginny teased. 'I'm going to put my stuff away and say hello to Arnold.'

Harry stared after her, something not adding up. Ginny continued to have an air of ease but when she teased him after the mention of her exam it was strained, almost a little forced. Harry wondered what happened at football and he desperately wanted to go and ask. He took a step towards her bedroom, paused, and turned, heading for the bathroom instead. If it was important, she would have shared it with him, he reasoned, taking off his singlet and throwing it to the ground. The ache from the concern he had was stronger than it should be. Groaning at his new and confusing feelings, he took a cold shower.

Refreshed, Harry changed into the best clothes he had: a pair of dark jeans and a light button up shirt and proceeded out to the kitchen to cook dinner. Harry heard Ginny rummaging in her room through the closed door. He glanced at the door in concern but let her have her privacy. He let his attention return to the ingredients splayed across the bench. The dinner itself was a simple pumpkin and spinach pie he had made dozens of times and was glad he had all of stuff he needed. The pudding he wanted to bake was more intricate and he was so engrossed in it, he didn't hear Ginny come out. He jumped when he saw he leaning against the kitchen bench, examining a quarter of pumpkin Harry had left over.

'I see you're going all out,' Ginny observed, looking over the pumpkin with a wry grin.

'It is a celebration of sorts.' Harry outstretched his arms, as if he was welcoming dozens of guests.

Ginny's smile went placid and her gaze went back to the pumpkin in her hands. Harry went back to placing the middle of the pie into the pastry base and then into the oven, all the while shooting glances at her thoughtful face. He went to the bench, ducking slightly to her line of vision. Her eyes focused back on Harry, smiling ruefully at his attempt to get her attention.

'What's bugging you?' Harry asked.

Ginny sighed. The deep set of her eyes and the droop in her shoulders made her look as if she was about to tell Harry he only had days to live.

'This is only a temporary visit. I have to go back and join the team, tomorrow.'

'Ah…' Harry said. 'If this is about me getting restless, you shouldn't worry. I found out a way to burn my energy –.'

'No,' Ginny sighed. 'It's not about that. It's just … well … I don't want to leave you here alone.'

'Oh,' Harry said. He was not expecting that response. 'I won't go crazy. I've been on my own countless other times.'

He tried to give her a reassuring smile but she didn't return it. His smile faded from his face as he watched her. She seemed to be struggling to withhold her emotions. Harry didn't understand why she was getting really worked up. He thought about her leaving again and a heavy weight pressed into his stomach; he even felt as though he couldn't breathe. He pushed the thought aside and yet some of the pain still lingered. He would miss having Ginny around, more than he expected to. It was almost the same as his ache for Ron and Hermione was. Scratch that, it was more than that ache for his friends. Was it possible that was how Ginny was feeling?

He walked around the bench and lightly placed his hands on her folded arms. Her eyes slowly met his and in that moment everything to Harry faded away; everything except for Ginny. His heartbeat sped up. Harry could almost hear a key fitting into a lock and the lock breaking open. Did that mean Ginny was the key? Harry's next question was what was she the key to? And then the answer was there. The past week and a half had opened up the fresh tide of feelings but in all honesty, it had been in front of him all along.

He broke their gaze at the discovery and smiled at his hands on her arms, realising the irony. Everything he now wanted was in his hands and it was the one thing he could not have and he would never be able to tell her. If he told Ginny his true feelings, she would become one of the most wanted by the Death Eaters. Ginny might not even return his feelings and where would that lead them? Awkward glances and uncomfortable silences that would last too long. No, he reasoned, it would be best to just leave her out of it and live her own carefree life where he couldn't disrupt it.

He gave her the smile on his lips, trying to not look as bitter as he felt. 'Hey, at least we still have tonight, right?' He wondered who he was trying to reassure.

She returned his smile, though it was glum. Harry wanted to know what she was thinking but kept silent.

'Right,' she agreed.

Harry smiled at her again and returned to the desert. She stayed to watch him, occasionally leaning over to taste the pudding batter. After the fourth time Harry had swatted her away with a wooden spoon, she decided to change the subject.

'I must say, you have eccentric taste when it comes to gym clothes. Were those bright green shorts you were wearing earlier?' She was grinning slyly.

Harry felt the heat go to his face. He was, however, glad that she seemed to be back to her playful self. 'Obviously I wasn't really looking properly when I chose which clothes to leave here.'

'Or you were and left behind the ones no one should wear, ever,' Ginny offered.

'Ha ha,' Harry said sarcastically. 'I'd have you know they are extremely comfortable.'

'That's so it makes up for how ugly they look.'

'Alright, don't make me poison your food.'

'You're not doing that already?' Ginny asked innocently.

Harry scowled and Ginny laughed. 'It's been a week of cooking for myself and I am still alive.'

'Maybe it's a slow poison and its effects progressive?'

'Or maybe you will just starve to death,' Harry suggested.

'But this is my celebratory gift,' Ginny protested.

'And it will be; you just won't eat it.'

'That's hardly fair.'

'So is complaining to the person who is making your food.'

Ginny poked her tongue at him and he just glared pointedly at her. She sighed and looked out of the window. Harry peeked at her between stirs and saw she was smiling. His heart fluttered. Stop that, he told it silently. He was too busy trying to keep her in his line of vision that he had earnt himself several new burns. Harry decided that he should probably just look at the dinner before he did anything more extreme like burn down the place.

It was fifteen minutes later that he had served up their dinner, complete with a glass of red wine he found in the cupboard. He wasn't much of wine drinker but he wanted the night to go well. Ginny wasn't too concerned with the wine. Harry watched out of the corner of his eye her take the first bite. Her eyes widened and then she ate with haste. Harry smirked and began to eat. If Harry thought Ginny liked his main course, then she loved his desert. True, she did eat half of the batter beforehand but she ravished the pudding faster than Harry did.

'Okay, where did you learn to cook like that?' Ginny asked, massaging her stomach.

'So you did like it?' Harry asked with a raised eyebrow.

'What made you think I didn't?'

'I wasn't too sure in between your moans and groans.' Harry was trying not to smile around the glass in his hand.

Ginny groaned and covered her eyes and Harry laughed. 'They had me on rations for fitness,' Ginny admitted. 'It was torture.'

'Why would they do that?' Harry asked, surprised, piling her empty plates on top of his.

'They wanted me to suffer,' Ginny said with a shrug.

Harry got up and started to clear their plates. 'In other words, you don't know?' Harry called over his shoulder.

'They wanted to test other fitness aspects, not just my ankle. I assumed that was part of it. They do restrict our diets in the pre-season and seeing as I've been out for a couple of months I guess that was why.'

'It makes sense for the midfielder to have heavier restrictions. They are supposed to be the fittest –.'

'I'm not a midfielder,' Ginny interjected. 'I haven't been a midfielder in a year. I'm a striker.'

Harry's hand slipped on the plate he was rinsing, slopping water everywhere. 'A striker? No! I remember watching you play in the midfield –.'

'Yeah, last year, Harry. The coach wanted to try something different and it worked. I'm the striker now, permanently.'

'A year?' Harry repeated, blank with surprise.

'Hey now, it's not so bad.' Ginny smiled consolingly at him. 'It wasn't like you ignored me or anything. I'm not upset by it. Half of the family can't make it to most games, not recently anyway.'

'It's still not good enough, Ginny,' Harry muttered. 'You should be upset.'

'I am sometimes, but a little disappointment is good for people.'

'Oh yeah? And who said that?'

'I did,' Ginny stated.

Harry couldn't help but laugh. He went back to cleaning the kitchen and nearly jumped out of his skin when minutes later Ginny was beside him, a towel in one hand, the other outstretched for the plate in Harry's hand.

'For an agent, you really are jumpy,' she observed.

'You just need a bell,' he replied.

Harry gave her the plate, an odd smile on his face. He felt almost hyper vigilant with her at his side. He was afraid to touch her, in case sparks emitted from their touch. His emotions were expanding way too fast for his comfort; especially the ones he had repressed for years on his campaign against the Death Eaters. Harry was so caught up in his thoughts that he hadn't heard Ginny when she was talking to him.

'Sorry?' Harry asked.

'What's on your mind, Potter? Still mulling over the fact that someone actually liked your cooking?' Ginny teased. She was getting ready a pot of tea for the two of them.

'No … Just drifting,' Harry smiled.

Ginny scrutinized him but then repeated what she said. 'I spoke to Hermione a couple of days ago.'

'What did she say?' Harry said lightly, though his stomach clenched uncomfortably.

'Not a lot. There were a few more attacks but none ended up serious, thanks to Order members. Apparently the Order is starting to counter attack them too. Little things so they can grab information. The places they've hit haven't been too useful except for one. Supposedly, the Death Eaters are planning something, a final assault before they can take over.'

'Did Hermione say what this something was?'

'That's the thing; the Order can't figure it out but when Hermione and I were talking we thought it may have to do with arranging your death.'

'Makes sense,' Harry said, nodding. He took the cup of tea Ginny offered to him. 'Once I'm out of the way there would be minimal resistance. Was there anything else she said?'

'You're taking this relatively calmer than I expected,' Ginny observed over the rim of her tea cup.

'Impeding death is hard to imagine in this place,' Harry admitted.

'I often thought when I was out here, I was cut off from the rest of the world,' Ginny agreed, getting a faraway look in her eyes. She smiled fondly and then focused back on Harry. 'It's always quiet. Hermione wanted me to remind you to stay put, not do anything reckless and oh, if something does happen to signal them the usual way, whatever that is.'

'I had forgotten about that. We created a particular type of flare that instead of shooting up red sparks it would shoot up purple sparks instead,' Harry explained. 'When it's cracked open it also makes a noise that sounds like a bird cry. It was actually the headmaster who invented it before he, died.'

'Dumbledore?' Ginny asked and Harry nodded. 'How would it work though if you were taken away from that location after you activated it?'

'It probably wouldn't but at least you knew that they knew you were in trouble. It's up to them from there.'

'I suppose it helped you knew or guessed where most of the bases for both parties were then.'

'Something like that,' Harry smirked. 'When did they want you back tomorrow?'

'First thing,' Ginny said, somewhat glumly. 'They are going to try and keep my return a surprise but I reckon only a couple of days before the public knows.'

'At least I will see you then,' Harry said without thinking.

Ginny, thinking it was meant to be a joke, rolled her eyes. Harry didn't know whether he was relieved or disappointed by that.

'And what about you? I won't know whether you are alright or not.'

'I could always buy a disposable phone or maybe I'll just get myself on the news so you can see I'm fine.'

'That's not funny, Harry,' Ginny said quietly. 'I can get you a phone and bring it back as soon as I can but you can't get on the news.'

'I know, Ginny, I know,' Harry said quickly, shocked at how upset she was. 'I was just trying to lighten the mood.'

Ginny stared at him to make sure he was being sincere. 'Don't say that again, please. I can't bear to think –.'

'I'm sorry,' Harry said honestly. 'I made you a promise Ginny to stay here and I meant it. I truly did.'

They finished their tea in silence. Ginny announced she was going to have an early night and left for her room. She paused in the hallway to thank him for the dinner and he told her it was no problem. In truth, Harry thought the night had turned problematic.

He couldn't stop thinking about her. That night he had the same dream involving her from two weeks ago but this time it was Ginny running to him. She had this look of euphoria on her face and Harry saw she was wearing her football jersey but it was nothing compared to her expression. As she pulled him into an embrace he tilted his head and their lips were about to touch when he was startled awake by the sound of the front door closing. Harry got up slowly, already knowing what he would find. Arnold was whimpering and scratching at the door as Harry fixed his glasses on his nose. There was a note folded on the bench and Harry opened it with trepidation. He sighed as he read the note and then read it aloud to Arnold.

'I didn't want to wake you. Please be careful. Ginny.'

Harry wanted to crumple the note up in frustration but he placed it back on the bench. Harry wanted to believe that she was being sincere in her note yet he couldn't help but wonder if he done something last night that made her scamper away. Did she catch him staring or did he say something that hinted how he felt? He was allowed to sit beside her, wasn't he? To laugh at her jokes or simply talk to her. The note was so short and was only signed with her name. Did that mean she truly felt nothing for him and last night was simply Harry's imagination that she was upset on leaving?

'I think she is going to drive me insane,' Harry told Arnold.

Harry spent the rest of the day playing with Arnold, who proved to be a good distraction from Ginny while he also tried to figure out Death Eater bases. He was in the exercise room well into the night, using the rolled up mat from the living room as a makeshift punching bag. He kept the television on the news channel when he was able to without arousing suspicion but found it lacking in the information he needed. He had even brought some of the exercise equipment out into the lounge room in case the hours he spent in there was when he missed something important.

The second night in and Ginny was on the news. Harry's whole chest clenched painfully when he heard her name come from the newsreader. He thought his heart was about leap from his chest as he ran to the television, slipping and toppling into the small chair side table. The reporters had finally confirmed she was playing in her comeback match this week and there were photos and clips of her at one of their current trainings. So Ginny's guess was right. Harry breathed a sigh of relief and decided that maybe having the news on constantly was a bad idea.

The next day passed the same as the other two. Harry worked out for most of the day, stopping in the afternoon to let Arnold run around the backyard, watching from the shadows of the patio. Ginny was on his mind whenever he took a break from his rigorous exercise. Some of the thoughts he knew he shouldn't be thinking but couldn't help it. He was beginning to act like his younger teenage hormonal self. No matter how hard he trained or busied himself in what he was calling, 'His Death Eater Manifesto', she was always there, lurking in the back of his mind. He assumed it was caused by her absence but then his mind fantasized to what they could be doing if she was here and felt the same way. Harry decided to take a cold shower that night.

Harry lay in his bed that night, trying not to think of a certain red head by going over old fighting sequences against Death Eaters. Arnold was curled up just outside his bedroom door, twitching as his dreams took hold. Harry often wanted to fall asleep that quickly and deeply so he wasn't plagued by nightmares.

Harry thought back to the first time he had killed a Death Eater. It wasn't one of his fondest memories but it was guaranteed to drive everything else from his mind. He hated killing. Detested it and would do anything to prevent it from happening. Sometimes death was inevitable, whether by accident or to save his own life. This Death Eater gave Harry no other option. Harry closed his eyes, reliving that time.

Harry was late. He always seemed to get the more complicated jobs whenever Ron and Hermione planned missions without him. This time he had to rig up a set of booby traps on their escape route in case they were being chased, which, if by going from their previous missions as a guide it would be almost a certainty. Hermione had given him explicit instructions on where exactly to place the traps, right down to the centimetre and specific tree to tie the wire. Harry didn't understand how they could see where the traps were in pitch darkness but he had to trust Hermione knew what she was talking about.

He was out of breath by the time he got to his position at the guard's security box. He was told not to enter the compound any further as the others would need him to keep the path clear. He was bored and impatient waiting there. Being in the thick of the action for over a year he was annoyed he was told to take what he thought was a minor role in the night's proceedings. Being seventeen he still believed he was, not exactly invincible, but to some degree detached from the reality of death and dying. It was four months before he and Sirius took that faithful mission that claimed Sirius' life.

Harry was dawdling near the box, not paying particular attention to his surroundings as he should have. He checked his watch in the light. He only had a minute more to wait before they would go. He could picture them going home in accomplishment and Harry merely smiling dully at his minimal role. He was thinking of that, or rather sulking when the Death Eater came up behind him. Harry moved his head at the last second so he was only clipped from behind.

Harry sprawled forward, splaying dirt and dust everywhere. He scrambled to his feet, bringing his hands up to block the Death Eater's superman punch. He was pushed back, his grip on the gravel unstable. He was balancing on one knee, grunting under the weight of the Death Eater. He pushed him off, getting to his feet. Harry grabbed him and threw him into the wall of the box, fixing his glasses on the bridge of his nose. The Death Eater was hooded but it wasn't his appearance that concerned Harry; it was the knife he had just pulled from his coat pocket.

Harry was in trouble now. Defenceless, Harry held his guard a little tentatively and the Death Eater ran towards him. Harry sidestepped, tackling him back into the wall. He grabbed the wrist and smashed it against the wall, trying to make the Death Eater drop the knife. He grunted, kicking Harry away. He slashed out and swiped Harry's side. Harry felt the panic rise to his throat like bile, the pain making his hands shake. The Death Eater took another swipe and Harry dodged out of the way. He spun out of another would-be slicing and as he did, brought his foot up and then slammed it down on the Death Eater's outstretched arm.

The Death Eater dropped the knife with a scream of pain. Harry bent to retrieve it, the Death Eater on his heels. Harry was grabbed from behind, getting hauled to his feet. Harry's arms flailed wildly, the knife clutched in his right hand. He was thrown away, making Harry stagger unsteadily. The Death Eater tackled Harry before he could regain his balance. Harry fell to the ground, the Death Eater atop of him. Instinctively, Harry put his hands up in-between the two of them, keeping his head up so it didn't smash on the ground. Harry felt the wind knocked out of him, even more so as the Death Eater fell heavily against him. The Death Eater was slumped on Harry and in a fit of anger, Harry threw him off.

It was at the moment when Harry got up to a crouch that he noticed his hand was sticky and wet. Harry saw the glint near his hand and remembered the knife. Harry glanced down at the Death Eater in horror, the knife falling from his hands. The hood fell down and revealed a boy a little older than Harry. He looked equally shocked as he gazed at Harry, his breaths ragged. Harry placed his hands out toward him, wanting to help but now knowing what he could do. Harry was like this when he saw the light leave his enemy's eyes and he realised what he had done. Harry didn't know how long he crouched there, staring at the fallen boy until he heard the panicked voices of his comrades.

'Harry!'

Harry shifted, his name sounding much clearer than he remembered in the memory.

'Harry!'

Harry realised it wasn't part of the memory. Someone else was calling him. Someone close by. And afraid.

'Harry? Are you there?'