Ginny sat in the quiet of her room after a lengthy practise. A day of Quidditch had never felt so long before. The entire time flying she'd wanted nothing more than for time pass so that seven could come and her date with Harry could begin.

Practise had been awkward though. Not in a bad way, but in a fun testing boundaries sort of way. They'd shared glances, bumped shoulders and each time there had been a pause - a moments consideration. Their eyes would lock and they would share a smile. She'd longed for another kiss, but there never seemed to be a right moment.

Now that she was home and seven just a few minutes away she had a more pressing issue. She had to decide what to wear. Harry had said to be informal.

She stood and crossed the room to the closet. "But what does that mean?" she huffed in annoyance while glancing sideways towards the mirror. A bunch of outfits, not that she had many, already covered the poor bed. She lifted a set of black dress robes, which were probably older than herself, then huffed. "Informal! Can't the man be more specific?"

Her tirade continued. Eventually nearly every outfit had been banished back to where it had been, in what would now be a complete mess. All that remained was her newest pair of jeans and a jersey she'd sworn to never wear. Deciding that it really was her only option, she got dressed and hurried into the bathroom to do her makeup; an art she was not very good at.

A number of frustrating minutes later Ginny tiptoed down the stairs, careful to never set foot on a squeaky board. Ron and her father were busy playing a game of chess allowing her to slip passed them without notice. Her mother hummed softly to herself while cooking. Ginny edged into the kitchen and stretched out a hand towards the handle.

"You look lovely," a voice spoke from behind. Ginny's hand froze over the handle. She'd been so close. "I haven't seen you in that green jersey I made for you in years." Ginny blushed. Her hand dropped to her side as she faced her mother. "And makeup?"

The jersey felt tighter than ever before. Ginny had always complained about how it hugged her body and that was before she'd developed into a young woman.

She coughed, trying to find her voice. "Harpies thing tonight." The words came quickly even though she tried hard to not show any signs of going on a date. "My coach wants to get a drink and talk. There's so much to talk about." She felt rather proud of herself. It was all true if she stretched her imagination a bit.

"That's nice." Her mother looked rather disappointed. "I had hoped you were sneaking out on a date."

Ginny felt her cheeks heat under her mother's gaze. "Date?" she squeaked. "Where do you think I would find the time for a date?"

Her mother sighed and her eyes glistened hopefully. "A mother can always dream, dear."

Ginny's past was never spoken about openly and her aversion to boys had been bothering her mother for years. Ginny crossed the kitchen to her mother and enveloped her in a hug. "I can't promise anything, mum. But I'll try to keep an eye open." The all too familiar bone crushing Mrs Weasley hug threatened to squeeze the life out of Ginny.

"Well, that's good enough for me." Mrs Weasley spoke as she held onto Ginny.

Ginny smiled and then slipped out of the house and Apparated straight into Harry's flat. It was precisely seven.

Movement drew her attention to the room where Harry had just put on a shirt. "On time," Harry said in surprise before stepping out of the room. "From what I've heard and seen about witches…"

Ginny flicked out her wand, cutting off his words, and pointed it at him with a mischievous grin. "I'm not an ordinary witch."

Harry held up a hand. His hair still oddly dishevelled, but his shirt and chinos fit him perfectly. "If you were then I wouldn't have asked you out, Miss Weasley."

"You're not so average yourself." He affected her like no wizards had ever before. He was caring, smart and knew nearly everything about Quidditch. She grinned, he was also devilishly handsome. "So where are you taking me, Mr Potter?"

He reached out and took her hand. The touch felt warm and tender. "You have a beautiful smile," he said shyly. "But you'll have to wait and see about dinner."

"I can get very persuasive," Ginny said while fingering her wand openly with her other hand. "I've learned ways to make people speak." His hand trembled slightly. For a brief moment she felt a new aura come off him. It was not quite fear, she was sure of that, but it might have been close. She slipped her wand into her pocket and squeezed his hand reassuringly. "And I like surprises."

He led her towards the front door. "I'm sure you can be." He finally managed to say.

It was still light out and the weather warmer than in the morning. At first they walked in silence. Ginny would've liked to have called that silence comfortable, but Harry remained tense.

"Evening, Harry." A bubbly older gentleman said as he passed.

"Evening, Richard," Harry replied stiffly.

"And who's the lovely young lady." He grinned at Harry, while sneaking glances at Ginny.

"Richard this is Ginny," Harry introduced. The man made a big show of shaking her hand and when he passed Harry he nudged him in the ribs. She looked back to see the old man wink.

"What was all that about?" she laughed nervously.

Harry gave a quiet laugh. The nervousness seemed to bleed away from him. "Oh, Richard has known me for years. He's probably just excited to see me with a girl."

"So you don't bring all your groupies here with you?" An overwhelming sense of jealousy flooded into her. She could not help but imagine all the women he'd been with. She'd seen how various witches threw themselves at men. Her mind still spun at what some of the girls talked about in the dorms.

"I've never been here with another woman," Harry said. Then he laughed. "Well not with a young woman on a date."

"So you've been here with a woman then!" Ginny said heatedly. This reaction was not her, but yet she could not stop it.

"Well if you compare having dinner with your father as a date. Then yes, I've been here with a woman before."

Ginny stopped walking. "So who's this woman?" Harry seemed unsure of what to say. "Not first date question?"

He relaxed visibly. "Not that I don't want to talk about it. It's just not something I share with people." His hold tightened. "Listen, Ginny. I like you a lot, but there are things about my past that…"

"I have a few skeletons myself, Harry," she said placing a hand on his arm. "Let's try to enjoy the evening and let the past be the past for now."

"Thanks," Harry smiled. He leaned towards her and let his lips gently touch hers. "I appreciate that."

"Stop making a scene in public, Harry!" a woman in her early fifties, Ginny guessed, called out from across the street. "You'll be driving us old folk barmy!"

Ginny groaned as he pulled further away from her. "Can't I kiss my lovely date, Mary?" Harry called. Ginny heard a hint of pride in his voice that made her feel warm inside.

"Not until you've introduced the young miss to me, lad," she shouted. Her plump body scurried with surprising litheness as she hurried across the road towards them.

Harry rolled his eyes and mouthed, 'sorry.' Ginny only grinned and turned to face the oncoming woman.

"My, you are a pretty thing," she said upon reaching Ginny. "Great taste, this man. You better not mess with him, young miss."

"Mary!" Harry warned. The woman gave a fake scowl and then laughed. "Mary this is Ginny."

"A pleasure to meet you, Mary," Ginny said as she took the woman's hand. Mary's eyes studied Ginny the whole time.

"Yes, a pleasure." Then she laughed again. "You two look adorable together."

"Um… thanks. Good evening," Harry said hastily as he pulled Ginny away with him.

"Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea," Harry muttered as he strode briskly down the street.

"Small communities tend to do that," Ginny laughed. "But I think they all mean well."

Harry slowed down and sighed. "Of course they mean well." He sounded irritated, but there seemed to be a deeper undercurrent to his mood.

"You just don't like people prying into your personal life," she said to fill the air with the words he wanted to say.

"How did you…"

"It's no secret that you are a recluse, Harry. How many star Quidditch players are out there that the public know nothing about?"

"Umm," he tried to think.

"There's only you. Any player worth anything has released a book or two about themselves and that's not even counting articles in the Witch Weekly or Prophet." He said nothing. "But we're not talking about the past."

He seemed thankful for a moment. "Sorry. I've grown a little too talented at keeping myself hidden."

She squeezed his hand and hoped he would open up a little. Of course he said no more about his past while they walked along. She had to keep reminding herself that she'd only known him a week and this was a first date. Still it felt like she'd known him much longer. Apart from all the posters and the games she watched, she kept having this nagging feeling that she knew him from even before he played Quidditch.

"Here we are," Harry proclaimed.

It was a small restaurant with only ten tables inside. The name above the little place was practically unreadable as the font was so skew. "What's this place?" she asked as he opened the door for her.

"A little Italian place. Sirius and… hmmm," he coughed. "Excuse me. Remus, loved to come here. I've got only pleasant memories of this place." He mumbled, "About the only place." So softly she felt sure she was not meant to have overheard.

The fondness she felt for him grew. If he brought her here then she must really mean something to him. She beamed up at Harry. "Thanks for bringing me here then."

"Harry!" A thin bald headed man called from the entrance to the kitchen. "It's been a long time. Too long, my friend."

"I've had a busy time, Marco," Harry replied.

"And you've brought a lovely lady with you." His eyebrows lifted. "If she's just a friend, then perhaps…" He winked at Harry.

"She's taken," Harry replied a little curtly. He even took a slight step towards Ginny.

The man laughed and clapped his hands together gleefully. "Forgive me, but a man must try with such beauty." Ginny blushed at the compliment. She did, however, shuffle closer to Harry.

The man snapped his fingers and a waiter appeared as if by magic to seat them by one of the small round tables. "Sorry about Marco. I think it's the Italian blood. He has this urge to flirt with every woman who comes in here." Harry grimaced. "I just never really thought about it much. It's always been funny."

Ginny reached her hand across to him and placed it over his. "Relax, just caught me a bit unaware, but nothing serious." He smiled, the relief visible in his expression. "So, what does one eat at Italian restaurants?"

"Pasta, Pizza," Harry answered eagerly. "Personally I prefer pizza. Pasta…"

"Is something my mother makes," Ginny laughed.

"Something like that," Harry agreed.

"So what's pizza?" she asked. Harry looked surprised, but went into a lengthy explanation on the topic.

They ordered wine and enjoyed their pizzas, which Ginny just had to try after Harry's story. The meal passed in pleasant conversation. He laughed genuinely at stories about her family. He grew serious and supportive while she talked about her aspirations as a Quidditch player. He understood everything. He even went into some details about his unbeaten Quidditch career. She laughed and told him about how much her brother worships him. Harry had seemed a bit worried, but when she told him about Ron's lifelong support, or rather obsession, for the Canons, Harry relaxed again. And then the meal was eaten, the bottle of wine was empty and the place wanted to close.

"Thanks for a lovely evening," Ginny said as they walked back to his flat; their hands still entwined. It just felt right, like his hand had always been destined to fit into hers.

"I…" he began. "I think this was the best evening ever."

"Don't lie, Harry. What about all those victory celebrations and Quidditch functions? Surely they were better than this. I remember seeing photos of witches, with legs longer than me, hanging onto you."

"Chancers," Harry growled. "They just… arggh!" he shook his head. "It's enough to make my head spin just thinking about them."

"So no taking witches home then?" Ginny hated herself for asking, but she needed to know.

He stopped walking, and looked genuinely surprised. "I kissed a few of them, but none were ever what I really wanted."

"And that is?" she asked.

He looked away and she noticed his eyes shimmer in the low light. He tried to keep her from seeing and so she said nothing. Whatever it was, he'd talk about it soon, and if it was something she couldn't cope with then she'd deal with it then. For now she just wanted to enjoy the remaining minutes of the evening.

"I should be getting home," Ginny said when they reached his flat.

Harry nodded in understanding. "See you tomorrow, Ginny." He bent down towards her and gave her a final kiss for the evening. He slowly let go of her hand. Immediately her body yearned for the warmth of his hold.

Ginny smiled shyly. "Tomorrow can't come soon enough," she replied. "Night, Harry." Then the world spun and blurred as she raced towards the Burrow.

A week later Harry sat crouched among some bushes and trees. It was a moonless night and a small manor lay in the valley below. The sun could've been high in the sky as Harry was shrouded beneath an invisibility cloak he'd inherited from his father. The wind blew steadily across the valley and the cloak ruffled about. He remained motionless, his gaze never once moved away from the building.

A figure appeared and strode into the house. Harry straightened. Only one man walked like that - Lucius Malfoy. Anger grew steadily into uncontrollable rage. The Death Eater was the sole cause for him having to quit his passion.

Harry's hand touched his forearms. The comforting feel of his wand on his right helped settle some of the fury. The cool touch of Voldemort's wand on his left made him shiver. He hated the man's wand, but it worked almost as well for Harry as his own. The twin cores reacted well to him.

He moved stealthily down the slope towards the house. Lucius crowded and clogged Harry's thoughts as he glided along the grassy hill. The man remained the only follower of Voldemort. A fanatic who'd lost everything during the war. A fool who wanted nothing more than to kill Harry. Finally Malfoy was alone and for the taking. With him gone Harry could return to the Cannons. He could fly against Ginny.

With a casual flick, his wand was in hand. Voldemort's remained as a backup, nothing more. It was Harry's little secret. He stepped onto the porch, his face set in concentration. Taking a careful peak through the window, he saw Malfoy standing alone in front of a fire, his back to the door.

Removing his cloak, Harry stalked towards the front door. A deep breath later he threw it open and rolled inside over his left shoulder. It took all of a second for him to realise that he'd been set-up. Three figures materialised and multi-coloured rays of light flew towards him.

The curses moved slowly, but his shield proved even more lethargic. The world seemed poised, and then the shield snapped into place. It bore the brunt of the spells, but it was not enough. The violence of the impact threw him backwards. The side of his head collided against the edge of the open door with a sickening crunch. His body, still carrying momentum, carried him round and out the door. Something cut into his shoulder as he painfully rolled over it and onto the gravel path outside.

Focusing his energy Harry flicked his wand and Apparated to safety. Thankfully no wards had been raised to keep him inside; an oversight by an arrogant fool.

"Aghh!" He cried out in pain. His back arched and blood flowed down his face and onto the floor. Kreacher would not like cleaning and dressing the cuts. The elf never did.

Ginny arrived a few minutes late for training only to find Harry sitting alone high up in the stands. It was odd considering he usually waited down by the pitch for her with a wide smile. Worried, she made her way towards him.

"Harry," she greeted. One look at his face made her gasp. "What's wrong?" It came out as a shout. The entire left side of his face was swollen and bruised.

"Nothing," he whispered. "Just a run-in with a door and some gravel." A smile formed slowly, which quickly turned into a grimace.

Ginny reached out and tenderly touched his cheek. "Looks rather nasty. What happened?"

He shrugged very slightly. "Perhaps I'll just sit and watch you fly today. You get to work on your crowd pleasing stunts."

She punched his shoulder softly for avoiding her question. Harry bit down hard and his eyes watered.

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously at his shoulder. "It must've been a lot of nothing."

He grunted a yes, but he could not look at her. She placed a hand on his arm, he flinched slightly, but did not pull away. "Harry."

He let out a deep breath and placed his other hand on top of hers. "It was a long night, Ginny."

She wanted to ask more, but the way he stared out across the field made her change what she wanted to say. "Do you want to go somewhere else today?" She removed her wand and lifted it to his face.

"What are you doing?" he asked halting her hand.

"With six older brothers running around you have to learn at least basic healing." His arm relaxed and he let go of her wrist. A few charms later the bruising looked better and the swelling had gone down slightly.

"Thanks." His voice was barely audible. "And yes, I'd rather be doing something else today."

They stood and began to walk down to the pitch. It took only a few steps for Ginny to notice Harry's limp. He suffered in silence, but the pain was obvious. "You can go see a Healer," Ginny suggested.

"And tell them what?" There was a note of anger in his voice. He raised his arms into the air then let them drop. His head fell as well. "I'm sorry, Ginny. I... I'm sorry, but perhaps I should just spend today alone."

She rounded on him. "I don't think you should be alone."

"You think," he laughed sadly and then he sagged into one of the thousands of empty seats. "I buggered up last night." His hands ran through his hair. It came away slightly red.

Ginny took his hand and cleaned it, before performing a few more minor healing spells on his scalp.

"Want to talk about it?" she asked. "A drunken fight in a bar? Another woman?"

His head jerked up. "What? No!"

Ginny let out a relieved breath and her nerves settled again. "So?"

"I'm not ready." He cupped her cheek with his hand. "I'm just not ready."

He looked so lost and distressed. "Will I ever know what drives you, Harry?"

"Eventually." She leaned forwards and kissed him. Afterwards he held her close and her head rested against his chest. "I really want to talk, but..."

"You have to be sure about me first," she said the first thing that came to mind.

"Does that make me some cruel bastard?" he asked.

At first she did not respond. "I guess I'll know the answer to the question once I know what you're not telling me now."

"It's not bad, just personal." She felt his lips touch her head.

She wanted to shout at him, to force him to tell, but it would only drive him away. "I won't wait forever, Harry, but I'll give you a few more weeks." Then again she had not spoken about her past, but she had already decided to tell him when the time was right. But how would she know when the right time was?

"That's all I need, Ginny. Thank you."

A/N

Sort of a mixed chapter this. I giveth romance with one hand and angst with the other :) Though I shalt not taketh away the romance nor the angst. (Somehow that sounded better in my head than on paper)

I hope it was enjoyable at least. Now, I can't remember what's in the next chapter … *takes a quick peek* oh my, forgot that's coming up.

Thank you for reading (And surviving my commentary)