Ginny Apparated to the pitch early Monday morning. She still felt slightly wary, but these training sessions were her key to a career as a professional Quidditch player. If there was ever a time to fight her demons then now was it. She pulled her Harpies jacket tight against an unseen cold. Despite the fears she'd felt since Saturday, if the lessons learned in the past week were anything to go by then she was nowhere near good enough for the league.

The field all around felt eerie in its emptiness. Harry was not sitting in the stands or waiting on the pitch to welcome her. Wanting the day to just get going, but with nothing to do, she ambled towards the main stand and sat.

Eight slowly became nine and nine eventually turned to ten and still there was no sign of Harry. Deciding that she'd spent enough time in the cold grandstand, Ginny trudged unenthusiastically to the changing room.

Her kit lay in a neat pile like it had been every day the previous week. The only difference being a small note on top of her robes. A growl of pure frustration roared out from her throat as she snatched up the piece of parchment.

Miss Weasley,

Mr Harry James Potter lives at 15 Pikington Avenue, Essex.

She stared at the note. She'd never known Harry's second name was James. The surprise faded quickly. The changing room felt empty and small as fears kept bubbling to the surface.

"What to do?" she mumbled, her eyes once again drifting down towards the parchment, which was now partly crumpled in her palm. If she went to his house then she'd be near Harry, tempted to touch him. Her body trembled, not in excitement, but fear. How much would she be able to cope with?

If she ignored the letter then she could go home and relax. "What will he think of me then?" she cried out in frustration. Ginny sank down onto the bench and tried to reread the crumpled words on the parchment. It proved difficult when her hands began to shake.

Dark images of the Chamber shifted in and out of focus. A ghost like image had risen out of the diary. Tom Riddle, the man who'd taken over her mind. Even after all the years, she still felt used. The all too familiar nausea began to rise in her throat. He'd been looming over her, a broad smile on his lips, a filthy pale hand touched her cheek. Life had slowly been sucked out of her. The cold, even after all the years the coldness of life seeping out of her made Ginny shiver. The last memory was of Tom Riddle looking surprised. Perhaps that thought had only been a trick of her dying mind.

But Harry was different. His eyes were soft, if sad. Nothing like the dark demented eyes of Tom Riddle. His hands were gentle and caring, not cold and hard. He'd seen things in his past that haunted him, she could tell. At times those same eyes stared back at Ginny in the mirror. Less now, but they were there, like this weekend at the Burrow.

"I need to move passed this," she whispered to herself. Her lips kept moving as she rocked back and forth. After a while the words changed to, "I can let someone close." And eventually she was saying in her mind. "I can be near Harry." Those last words she dared not utter aloud.

Ginny felt every piece of her body and mind resisting, but she needed to do this. She could do this. With the decision made, she focused on the address on the parchment, closed her eyes and Apparated away.

Only when the world steadied did she allow her eyelids to flutter open. Her hand still clutched her wand tightly. She had emerged in the middle of a rather spacious room. Without daring to breathe, she tried to take in her surroundings. To her left was a neat kitchen and to the right a single door led into a room. Before her stood a single couch, which faced a fireplace. Two photographs hanging over the fireplace were the signs of life in the entire room.

"Kreacher, is that you?" Harry's voice called from the couch. The sound was depressing.

She suppressed a shriek. "I can do this," she whispered to herself in as low a voice as possible. The words helped calm her tenuous nerves. She had to get over these fears. Harry was a good man. He was not going to try and worm his way into her mind. With a deep breath she built the courage to speak.

"It's me, Ginny." Her voice sounded stronger than she'd expected.

"Bloody hell," he slurred. A very dishevelled mop of black hair emerged from the direction of the voice. "What... rather how did you get here?" His face was dark and rough from two days' worth of stubble and he still wore the same shirt, wrinkled now, as Saturday. In short he was a mess.

Ginny built up another bout of courage to speak. "I found a note on my kit telling me where you lived," she answered in as firm a voice as she could manage.

"Kreacher!" Harry moaned.

"Whose Kreacher?" she asked.

"A house elf who thinks he can do what he wants with my Fidelius Charm."

"Merlin!" Ginny shrieked. "Is being a professional Quidditch player that dangerous?" It was the first thing that came to mind.

He stared at her with the oddest expression. "What? Quidditch?" He tried his best to tame the mess that was his hair. It failed miserably, but the action was endearing. The very idea that he could be as uncomfortable as her made Ginny relax a little.

"Uh, why else?"

He shook his head. "You know about the Fidelius Charm?" He scratched at his stubble and scowled as if noticing it for the first time. She suppressed a smile. Despite everything, he could just make her unwind.

"My brother is a curse breaker for Gringotts. When he's around he likes to talk about various wards and why you'd use them." She shrugged. His eyes narrowed slightly.

"And it's not for being a Quidditch star," he muttered. It was an odd comment, but he did grow up during a war. "Even the most obsessed fans would not get passed the most elementary of blood ward or such." He stumbled around the couch.

"Good to know," she tried to laugh. "I'll ask Bill about it."

"Bill?" His voice broke slightly as his head jerked up.

"My brother, the curse breaker."

"Oh, right." Harry relaxed slightly again. "What are you doing here?" He finally managed to ask.

"It's Monday morning and I thought we had a practice session."

His face clouded over for a moment. "Monday? Isn't it still Sunday?"

He looked so serious that she began to laugh. "No it's definitely Monday."

"Crikey!" he almost shouted as hands worked even harder to flatten his hair. "I'm sorry, Ginny. I… I best get ready then." Harry kept mumbling as he moved about the room picking things up. Just before he entered his room he stopped and called, "Kreacher!"

Ginny jumped as a small elf appeared. "Morning, Master Potter." Harry rolled his eyes, but there seemed to be a playful undertone to the interaction.

"Could you please see to Miss Weasley. Make sure she gets whatever she needs."

"Of course, Master Potter. Kreacher will do as commanded."

"I'm asking you, Kreacher, not commanding," Harry grumbled as he disappeared.

The sound of running water confirmed that he'd jumped into the shower. Her cheeks reddened at the thought of Harry Potter taking a shower mere feet away from where she stood. "Foolish girl," she whispered to herself. "Can't trust a man, but thinking of that."

"Anything I can help with, Miss Weasley?" the small elf asked.

"I'm fine thank you, Kreacher," she replied. "I'll just sit and wait for Harry."

"Of course, Miss Weasley."

She sat on the couch and let her eyes take in her surroundings. The place was bare. A neat pile of orange Quidditch jerseys lay in one corner. The top one had the name Potter and his number on it. She assumed they were all his. Her eyes roamed to the fireplace and the photos. The only two she could see hung above the mantle.

"My parents," Harry said from behind. She nearly jumped as she'd not noticed the water stop running.

"They look like you," she replied while he shuffled around the couch towards her. "You look like your father and have the same eyes as your mother."

"So I've been told." He did not sound hurt. "The other is of me and my godfathers, Remus Lupin and Sirius Black."

"What happened?" she asked.

"What do you mean?" Harry responded.

"You sound… I don't know… hurt when you mention their names. Almost like there's a dam holding something back." The room filled with a palpable silence. "Sorry, Harry. I shouldn't have said that." Ginny blushed, feeling stupid, and tried to find something to focus on.

"No, I should talk about it more," he answered, as he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. The touch did not feel threatening, nor even demanding. Instead she felt his need for support, just like herself. "They passed away about six months before I played my first game for the Cannons. Just before the end of the war actually."

"I'm sorry, Harry. I hope you had someone there to help you."

He laughed slightly. "I had someone and then there's always Kreacher."

She shot to her feet. Some protective part, hidden deep, inside her snapped. Harry stood right before her and for the first time she became aware that the top of her head barely reached his chin. He looked forlorn, but something glimmered in his striking green eyes. She felt a tug towards him deep within her chest. There was an attraction she'd never felt before. "There's something about you, Harry," she whispered. Her hand hesitantly came up to touch his chest. Every inch of her being cried out for her to stop, but she could not. "You don't deserve to be alone."

His tongue touched his lips and his eyes stared unblinking. "I..." he leaned forward. His breath touched her lips. "Would you like to have dinner with me sometime?" he asked.

"Dinner?" She exhaled, feeling both thrilled and terrified. "With you? About the Harpies?" She knew perfectly well what he'd meant. Some part of her still hoped that he'd meant something else. The greater part, however, wanted to shout with elation.

"Forget about Gwenog," Harry said softly. "I want to get to know you." His own hand took hold of hers still pressed against his chest. "There is something about you too, Ginny."

She suppressed a smile, but her eyes never lied. She knew that. In those moments he could see her desire and deepest fears. "I'd like that very much, Harry." His face blossomed and that brightness in his eyes lasted for longer than just a moment.

"Tonight?" he asked in a whisper. There was no need to talk loudly as his face practically touched hers.

She swallowed. Visions of Tom Riddle swam before her, but they were vague. Harry's, now clean shaven, face was what she really saw and for the first time she could see a similar vulnerability in him. "Seven?" she offered.

"I'll pick you up at your house." Then he frowned. "Wait, umm… Perhaps that's not..."

"I'll meet you here," Ginny interjected. She did not want him meeting her family tonight. "I live with my parents. So it's best we keep this simple for now. And my contract sort of forbids me talking." She chewed her lips nervously. "And how am I supposed to explain you without talking about our sessions!"

"Of course," he muttered. "Gwenog... Harpies… Parents."

Boldly she placed a finger over his mouth. "Forget about her and them." Then she pushed herself up onto her toes and replaced her finger with her lips. It was a quick kiss, his lips rough and hard, but moist. She pulled away slowly allowing the touch to linger. "So…"

"So…" he repeated. "That was…"

"Nice," she supplied softly.

He gave a warm smile and ran a hand through his wet hair. "More than just nice."

She blushed again. The kiss had been softer, more intimate than the stupid one she'd had at school; Harry's touch was real and tender.

"We," Harry began.

"Better get to practice," Ginny offered.

"We'd better," Harry laughed.

A/N

Slightly less troubling than the previous chapter, or at least I think so :)

Once again thank you for all the reviews! I know I keep saying it, but I do appreciate each and every one!