Ginny collapsed on the living room sofa, absolutely exhausted from her Quidditch practice. She had been playing for two years at the time, and it seemed that the training never slackened. She honestly couldn't remember a time when she hadn't returned from practice without wanting to sleep for a straight week.

Harry was typically very understanding of Ginny's training; he would often make her dinner on her practice days and be even more sensitive to her than usual. That night was an exception.

"Look at this," he demanded as he stormed into the living room. Ginny forced herself to open her drooping eyes, if only to see a glimpse of a magazine.

"What about it?" she asked.

"Did you even see it?"

"Ugh, Harry, I'm too tired to look at anything right now."

"It's you. On the front cover."

"Really?"

"Yeah, you're Broomsticks Weekly's 'sexiest witch in Quidditch.'"

That broke Ginny's exhausted reverie. She sat up with the speed of lightning to grab the magazine from Harry's hands.

"What?" she screeched. "How—why would—damn them—"

Harry's chuckle interrupted her cursing. "You think this is funny?" she asked.

"Well...they aren't wrong, love. You're definitely my sexiest Quidditch player."

"You prat," she said lovingly as she shoved his shoulder.

"But on the other hand," Harry said, "I don't like you being anyone else's sexiest Quidditch player."

"Oh, come on," she said. "You can't be taking this seriously." To prove her point, Ginny dropped the magazine on the floor.

"You didn't see all the fan mail."

Harry led Ginny to their bedroom, where their bed was covered with dozens of hundreds of envelopes and a few pesky owls. Harry practically heard her jaw drop.

"This—this can't be possible," she said.

"D'you wanna read one?"

Ginny grimaced; she had a very profound experience of fanatics from Harry's fan mail. Though she was no Boy Who Lived, there were probably perverts who wanted to put their two cents in on her new title.

"I already did," he said. Harry picked up the letter from the nightstand and put on a very stuffy, sophisticated, Fudge-like voice.

"'Dear Ms. Ginevra Weasley,'"

"Oh no, did they write my whole name in the magazine?"

Ignoring her, Harry plunged on. "'I am aware that you have received a very fitting title this week from Broomsticks Weekly: the sexiest woman in Quidditch! What an honour! As such, you must want direly to celebrate. Though I could never say all that I adore about you in this letter, I believe that I could do justice at Madame Bankfoote's restaurant. Tell me your address, and I'll pick you up at eight o'clock for an evening filled with—'" here Harry couldn't contain another chuckle. "'—whimsical dancing and a glorious, candle-lit dinner. Yours truly, Kent Winsburrow.'"

"Ugh," Ginny groaned. "Are they all like that?"

"I dunno, I haven't plucked up the nerve to read any more."

"This is horrible – how'd you deal with these crazies?"

"Hmmm," he said, running his hand thoughtfully through an invisible beard, "I ignore it."

"That's it? As one of your first fan girls, I can tell you that ignoring this doesn't always work."

"That's all I can do about this. They're your fans."

After a few days Ginny recovered from the shock of her fan letters. She and Harry began to regard them as funny, since they tried not to think of serious people writing the letters, but of pranksters like George who wanted a good laugh. It got nearly impossible to ignore, however, one day while they were at the market.

Harry had gone off to the dairy section to look for orange juice, leaving Ginny to hunt for a cabbage head.

"What're you looking for?" a man behind her asked.

"Just a cabbage head."

"We could look for cabbage heads together, if you want," he said. He placed a bag of celery in her cart. The bloke was around her age, and his smirk told her that he'd rather do other things than look for a cabbage head with her.

"I'm fine, thanks," she said with feigned politeness.

"I just don't understand," he said, "why such pretty girls tie themselves down with these blokes. Honestly, you could have as many booty calls—"

"I agree with you," Ginny said. The man looked genuinely surprised, until he heard her next words. "You don't understand. I love my boyfriend, andI don't understand why I would ruin my relationship with him for some filthy little pervert who can't tell the difference between cabbages and celery!"

One of the Weasley curses was a boisterous voice. As she had "agreed" with the man, her voice gradually became louder and louder, until it was downright rowdy and the entire shoppe was staring at her. Harry was just a few dozen feet away from the cart during the last bit of the conversation, and as he dropped a cabbage head into the cart he said, "Just so you know, I always know the difference between cabbages and celery."

That night, Harry was washing the dishes while Ginny washed the clothes near him in the living room. They both joked about the celery man, but Harry's smile was completely stiff and he couldn't shake the bloke from his mind.

"What did the celery man say to you that got you so worked up?" he asked her.

"Hmmm," Ginny hummed in thought. "He was just being arrogant."

"Well, how was he being arrogant, exactly?" Harry moved to the living room so he could see her face.

"Why are you so curious? That looks like your interrogation face." She was looking away from him, though he could hear the smirk in her voice.

"I'm just wondering,"

"Of course. Just wondering. I suppose I turned into a ginger banshee because he made a move on me and I said no. Then he just wondered out loud about why pretty girls settle down with blokes when they could have booty calls."

Ginny said all of this in a rushed race between her and Harry's soon to be coming interruption. There was barely a second between her and Harry's interruption.

"What? The way you said it, he just made a stupid move and put celery in the cart. You said nothing about that part where he suggested that you could have more BOOTY CALLS of all things!"

"Don't you yell at me," she warned. "I didn't tell the whole story because I knew this would happen. You would turn into this fuming ball of Harry and seethe for days on end! You know that I don't take any of these people seriously."

"I know, but—"

"But what? When you first got your crazy fans, I accepted that they didn't faze you. But now that I'm the one with fans, it's completely justified for you to turn into a jealous Hungarian Horntail?"

"It's different!" he insisted.

"How?"

"You—you're my girlfriend. I love you, and these weird fan boys come and put celery in your cart and make moves on you. I might not be around the next time it happens!"

"I can take care of myself. You didn't step in when he made his move, and I did fine. I let it go; now you let it go!"

"I'm sorry," he said as he fell to the couch. "I'm just suddenly so jealous; I haven't felt like this since you were dating Dean. And even then, Dean wasn't a thousand mysterious fan boys sending you letters."

"It's okay. It's not like your little fans never irk me."

"Oh, how sweet. My tough, strong-as-steel girlfriend is jealous of letters just like I am."

"What a pair," she said as she closed the distance between them with a kiss.

A/N: Sorry about the bit of waiting for this. One more chapter to go, and hopefully it won't take so long this time ;)