For Harry the next three weeks went by in a whirlwind of homework, sly taunts, and quick kisses in the hallway, periodically marred by the Saturday detentions with Snape. After the first week Harry and Ginny had figured out a schedule of sorts. They would meet in the common room before breakfast, walk to the Great Hall together, have breakfast, and then go off to their separate classes. They'd meet again at lunch, and then Harry would walk Ginny to her next class. He would then go to the common room (for his free period) and desperately try to finish all his homework before his next class. At the end of all their classes Ginny and Harry would go down to the banks of the Black Lake, doing their homework as long as the light allowed them to.

The Black Lake was increasingly becoming Harry's most favourite place in Hogwarts. He and Ginny would sit there, curled up together, for what seemed like eons. Sometimes Ginny chattered away incessantly until Harry zoned out, or shut her up with a gentle kiss. Other times they would sit and watch their surroundings, each perfectly content with their silence. Harry found that Ginny was an avid listener; and although he was careful to not divulge any of his more pressing secrets, he could talk to her without her asking too many questions or being too judgemental.

At curfew they would retire to the common room and lay on their newly favourite couch, putting the finishing touches on their homework. Slowly, all the occupants of the common room would go up to their respective dorms, and eventually it would be just Harry and Ginny. They'd put their homework aside, taking advantage of the empty common room to do things they wouldn't necessarily do otherwise. Ginny would stay as long as sleep didn't overcome her and then she would get up. Harry's eyes would rove over her body, taking in the temporarily bared flesh of her midriff as she raised her hands over her head and stretched. She'd lean down then and give him a soft, lingering kiss. She'd stroke his cheek and whisper "Good night" in a most seductive way; it made Harry's skin erupt with goose-bumps. He would attempt to pull her back down again, and she would refuse, her small pink lips curving into a smile. She'd kiss his cheek, straighten up and go up the stairs to her room, leaving Harry to pick up his books, go up to his dorm, and explain to Ron just what he'd been doing with Ginny 'till one in the morning.

This routine became more and more familiar to Harry, and after a while he couldn't remember a time when Ginny hadn't always been there, waiting for him so they could go to lunch together; or a time when he didn't spend his evenings, as cheesy as it sounds, watching the sunset with her.

On one such day, during lunch, Harry decided they would go down to the lake. Now, they already spent copious amounts of their free time at the lake, but it was a clear, breezy day and Harry had had enough of the constant, dark, significant looks of Ron, and the snide comments of the passers-by in the corridors. Ginny was feeling particularly hostile to the group of girls (with Romilda as head) that kept spreading rumours around the castle; they weren't nasty or anything, but annoying enough so that even Harry had to restrain himself from yelling at them.

Ginny was already at the lake when he got there. He sat down next to her, and knowing she would be hungry, handed her a tart. She took it from him without saying anything, and wolfed it down.

"Very ladylike." He muttered.

Apparently this was the wrong thing to say because she gave him such a cold glare that he felt the temperature drop a couple thousand degrees. He shrugged, "Sorry, just trying to lighten the mood."

She sighed, "Who does she think she is? I mean, can a person really be that jealous?"

Harry said in a supercilious tone"You do know who you're dating, don't you?"

Ginny laughed, "You always make me feel better." She kissed him then, and he could taste the tart in her mouth. It seemed to him like a strange sort of aphrodisiac. He went to deepen the kiss, but Ginny shook her head. Harry had found out that she was dead-set against too many public displays of affection. Harry found that he didn't care much though, as long as Ron (or her 6 other brothers) wasn't around.

They leaned back against the tree together, settling into the position they'd become so comfortable with over the weeks. Ginny twined and untwined their fingers together and said conversationally, "Did you hear about the latest rumour?"

"The one about me using you to get Cho jealous?"

She shook her head, "Nah. That was last week. This is the one where you and Dean had a vicious duel at sunset in the Forbidden Forest. And, apparently you where wearing my handkerchief."

"Like medieval knights wearing their lady's handkerchief in tournaments?" Harry asked, surprised; he had not heard this latest rumour.

"Yep. Just like the medieval knights. All chivalrous."

"And what sliver of truth did this rumour spring from?" He asked.

"Romilda's friend heard that ridiculously cheesy line that you fed me in the common room the other day." ("You're hair looks like the halo of an angel in the sunlight.")

Harry sighed. He admitted it: when he was around Ginny, he didn't act entirely like himself. Was he really the first guy who went slightly bonkers around a girl? What did they expect from him? A poetic recitation? A long, passionate, declaration of love? A complicated speech that sounded like it had been written for a professional script? Girls were never his strong suit (Cho would testify to that), but he knew that Ginny didn't expect him to be phony or overly-romantic around her. She found that stuff boring. She just wanted him to be real, be himself. Just because he'd fought Voldemort a couple of times, did everyone expect him to be some sort of Prince-Charming-Knight-In-Shining-Armor-Save-the-World-Every-June kind of a guy, who never lost his dignity and always knew the right thing to say? Well, he couldn't, and never would be some fairy tale Prince Charming. Ginny, for sure, would be revolted if he tried.

Harry held her closer, protecting her from the wind, "I'm sorry you have to put up with all this. I'm sorry I can't be your typical Prince Charming from a fairy tale."

"Life isn't a fairy-tale, Harry." Ginny said, slowly stroking his cheek. "And, I'm sorry you can't trust me."

"I trust you!" Harry craned his neck to look down at her in surprise.

"Oh, but didn't you hear? I'm a dangerous femme fatale seducing you to your doom," Ginny said with a perfectly straight face and a deadpan voice.

Harry sighed, "And everyone thought Hermione was the scarlet woman in my life."

Ginny laughed, it was a short tinkling sound, and they lapsed into a comfortable silence; it was not their first. Harry's mind drifted to his parents. He touched Ginny's auburn hair, rolling it between his fingers. The strands fell through his fingers like silk; he could barely feel its touch on his fingers. "My mum had hair like yours."

Ginny looked down, fiddling with her necklace, "I know." She whispered. After a minute's thought she asked, "Would they have liked me?"

"They'd have loved you."

"How do you know?" she sounded uncharacteristically unsure of herself.

"I haven't met a single person who didn't like you Ginny."

"You're so full of it, Potter."

"I'm serious! You're smart, funny, sarcastic, beautiful, sexy –"

Ginny cut him off, smiling, "What was that last one?"

"Oh. Er…" The last one had slipped out of Harry's mouth.

"Go on." She looked at him expectantly.

Harry felt a blush spreading over his cheeks and the back of his neck, "You're sexy." He mumbled.

Ginny grinned, and entwined her arms around his neck, burying her face in his chest. She kissed the part of his chest that was exposed through his school shirt. "You may not be a Knight in Shining Armor, Harry, but you sure know how to cheer up a girl."

Then she tilted her face up and snogged him stupid.

Harry pulled back after the lack of air made him light-headed; he leaned into her kissing her neck and shoulder, trying to kiss every single freckle. Ginny had to swallow a moan. He looked at her. Her hair was no longer in a pony tail, the hair tie had gotten lost somewhere in their laps, her lips were red and swollen, her cheeks were flushed, the first 3 buttons of her shirt had come undone, and she was panting heavily. "What if people saw that?" he asked her.

"I wouldn't give a damn." She replied.

Can't say much. Still looking for my muse to come back... gotta go. Xmas party. Happy holidays! Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, and don't drink and drive!

Read, Review, Enjoy.

Love,

Qtip.