Harry walked with a slight limp through the long corridors of the Ministry. The scars and dark purple bruises left behind by Malfoy were hidden behind his usual disguise as the odd forty year old blonde recluse and heir to the Black fortune.

Upon reaching the Minister's office the secretary stood. "Morning, Mr Black. I hope you've had a pleasant time away?" The question asked in her usual business-like tone.

"It was," Harry replied was a regretful sigh. "But it seems the Ministry can't do without me for more than a few days."

The older woman gave a slight nod. "Indeed, the Minister does seem to rely on your advice."

Harry glanced at the door. "Has Dumbledore arrived?"

"Yes," she said hastily. "And Patrick."

Harry whistled as if impressed. "The Minister of Sport. My, this seems to be even more serious than I first thought."

"Very." The woman nodded. "I haven't seen the Minster so upset in years." She lowered her voice. "Not since You-Know-Who."

He smiled reassuringly. "I'm sure we'll have him back to his old self in no time, Bridgett."

Her shoulders sagged slightly in relief. "It's good to have you here again."

Harry nodded and then slipped past her and through the door to the office. He closed it behind him. At the far end of the room Shacklebolt sat behind the desk. The Minister of Sport sat to the right and Dumbledore to the left, the only empty chair remaining was the one between the pair. Harry groaned internally.

"Good morning," he managed to greet when it looked like none of the others were about to say anything.

"Yes, good morning." Shacklebolt absently gestured Harry to the vacant seat. Dumbledore bowed his head slightly in greeting, but he too seemed deep in thought. Patrick alone seemed awake and almost eager to get the meeting underway.

"Bad day?" Harry ignored the Minister of Sport.

Patrick coughed, forcing Harry to look at the short bald man who had the strong arms of a Beater. "You could say that, Harry. Bloody Malfoy is causing rather a ruckus in the Ministry." His gruff and excited voice grated at Harry's nerves.

Harry frowned. "Well I daresay that's what we're here to discuss."

"Indeed," Shacklebolt interjected. "The news of your capture and release has caused a few sleepless nights, Harry."

"I'm sorry, Kingsley. I do hope the news has not spread beyond the three of you." Harry studied Kingsley. "I had actually hoped that Patrick would not be informed."

The Minister of Sport laughed. "Can't keep me out of the loop, boy!" He punched Harry's shoulder playfully. Then his voice grew serious. "Besides you plan on endangering some of the other players in my league."

Shacklebolt and Dumbledore looked displeased, but Patrick had a right to be here. The Minister took a deep breath, revealing his tired state. "No need to apologise, Harry. Sleepless nights comes with the territory. It's a substitute for leave, or so they say."

Harry grinned and Dumbledore chuckled even as he asked. "So what is it you wish to discuss, Harry?"

The question managed to sober Patrick. "We need to discuss security and Auror protection at all the remaining Quidditch games. I told you that Malfoy is going to come after me at a game and we've already come to the conclusion that I need to keep playing. Precautions therefore need to be made to ensure Malfoy does not get onto the pitch and if he does that the other players can escape unharmed."

"Yes, we have been thinking about that." Shacklebolt began. "Albus does seems to be of the opinion that you should face the problem head on. I on the other hand believe that you should stop playing." His eyes bore into Harry's. "I am sure you've considered the risk to my people. The people you risked everything to save."

"I have," Harry nodded, but he could feel the weight of the decision. "But Malfoy has never been one to kill randomly on mass. He wants my downfall to be a spectacle for the thousands at the game." He balled his fists and hit his leg softly. "I doubt he means anyone other than myself harm."

The Minister did not look relieved. His tired eyes turned to Dumbledore. "Is this another thing for the greater good, Albus?"

"Perhaps, but I agree with Harry. Malfoy is after him and him alone. I see no reason for the crowd to be at risk."

Shacklebolt's palm smacked down against the wooden table angrily. "And what about my Aurors and the players stuck alongside Harry!"

Dumbledore averted his eyes. "They will know the risks involved."

Shacklebolt jumped to his feet and turned to stare out of his window. "By Merlin they will! But that does not give me the right to send them off to their deaths!"

Harry broke the tension. "That is why I propose an extensive upgrade to all the wards within the stadiums. Especially those that I will be playing at." Shacklebolt turned around. "It is a risk yes, but if we take the proper precautions then we can catch him at his own game."

For a brief moment Kingsley's eyes shone; then they dimmed again. "I do understand your point of view, Harry. I would just like to keep innocent people alive to go home to their families."

Harry's head dropped in shame, but as he was about to offer his retirement from Quidditch the Minister of Sport began to speak. "This may be our only chance of snatching this ruddy bastard. Give Harry a chance and I'll personally make sure that all the stadiums are as safe as can be."

The Minister of Magic considered the words. His gaze lingered on Dumbledore. "Alright, but you will have to get the budget approved by the Wizengamot. And every player has to wear a wand at all times!"

"Of course," the Minister of Sport agreed. "We'll make this work, Kingsley."

Shacklebolt placed the tips of his fingers on the table as he loomed over the three seated men. "Remember there are families at stake."

Harry strode into the crowded Wizengamot a day after the meeting and slipped into the seat of House Black. The Potter seat remained empty as it had been since the day his father passed away, the vote alone was what counted.

Only the most careful study of Harry by a person who knew him well would have noticed that it was actually him. With blonde hair, dull brown eyes, an odd hunch and the wrinkles of a forty year old even Ginny would have walked past without looking twice.

He sat watching the older wizards and witches arguing or laughing amongst themselves throughout the room. The topic for the day's session intrigued most. The Minister of Sport was going to propose something new to the Wizengamot. Conversations halted immediately as a loud bang of wood against wood echoed through the room; the silence deafening in the wake. As one the other members sat.

"Morning." It was the age wizened voice of Albus Dumbledore. He stood in ridiculous robes of bright blue that matched the sparkling eyes behind half-moon spectacles. "I am sure you are all wondering why this meeting has been called."

"It is rather close to Christmas, Albus." Everyone chuckled, the mood in the room was rather merry.

"The House Elfs have prepared a wondrous feast at Hogwarts before my students leave and I would prefer not to miss out on their treats."

"Move along then." Someone joked. "Or go fetch us some pudding." Everyone laughed, even Harry.

"I'm getting there," Albus said with a smile. "So without further ado, I will allow the Minister of Sport, Mr Patrick Farenger, to be allowed to speak."

A short man with thick dark brown hair moved to the now vacant dais. Strong arms and shoulders emphasised the professional career as a Beater the man once had.

"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen," the rough voice of the Minister spoke, but his eyes shone. "I am sincerely sorry for the inconvenience. Your families are probably all eager to spend some time with you in this most joyous time of the year."

Several of the people nodded. They were in a good mood, but it would not last long if Farenger failed to get to the point soon.

"You have no doubt heard rumours and read reports about several rather concerning incidents during the opening few rounds of the Quidditch League this year."

"Most troubling." A moustached man said while thumping his armrest.

"Most troubling indeed." Farenger seemed to grow in confidence. "The first incident involved a cursed Bludger and then one of the pitches had nearly been invaded by a roaming group of Dementors."

Harry shivered at the memory.

"They have been dealt with." A witch spoke in a clear voice. "My group of Aurors worked tirelessly to capture them."

"An admirable job, but the fact remains that someone had the nerve and means to bring them so near to thousands of innocent spectators and players." Nearly every head nodded solemnly. "There is no need for me to expand on what could have been." Farenger paused while letting his gaze linger on every group. "We must ensure the safety of our people!" he barked out gruffly.

"And what is it that you propose, Minister Farenger?" Dumbledore asked.

"I propose that funds be allocated away from other sectors and used to finance the construction of new, more encompassing and powerful wards around not only the pitch, but the stadiums as well."

Quite murmurs broke out amongst the members of the Wizengamot. "That is a rather expensive enterprise, Minister. Do you see no other alternative?"

The man shook his head. "I fear not, Dumbledore. The man who we suspected of the first was in Azkaban during the second attack." Farenger studied the seated witches and wizards again. "That man escaped meaning more people had to have been involved. We need to act now to ensure the safety of innocents and the sport we hold dear to our hearts!"

The members of the Wizengamot agreed eagerly. Harry raised his voice in agreement along with everyone else.

Farenger's eyes blazed triumphantly. "Do I have your support?" The witches and wizards in the room looked convinced. "Then cast your votes."

A minute later they ballots were counted and the results handed to Dumbledore. "Good," the headmaster said bowing his head. "It seems that we have the required majority. The motion is passed."

Patrick nodded as if it had only been a formality. "Then there is one last request from the Minster himself." People leaned forwards in their seats. "He asked that Quidditch league rules be changed to allow players to wear wands during games."

"That could lead to some interesting problems," Harry voiced the rehearsed question of a concerned citizen.

"Indeed, but we will also implement strict rules that will include an immediate life time banishment from the sport for improper use of a wand."

Discussions broke out amongst all the seated members. Unlike wards that improved the safety of all concerned, allowing wands constituted a fundamental change in the way the sport had been played for decades.

The results from the vote indicated the concern. Dumbledore opened the sealed letter handed to him. He stood and cleared his throat. "The motion is passed by, but not with the required majority." A lot of people seemed pleased by the result. "Very well, the rule will be implemented in the interim, but the decision will be reviewed at the end of the season. If a majority is not reached then the rules will revert back to its present state."

Dumbledore smiled as he studied the room. "I think this meeting has run its course. The matters are considered closed and motions will be investigated and then implemented. Thank you for your time and Merry Christmas."

Harry left the Ministry, his step light with the feeling that things were being done. Now he only had Ron's wedding to worry about in a few days' time.

It was a few days after the Wizengamot meeting, more importantly it was the day of Ron's wedding. "Hi, gorgeous stranger," Ginny whispered to the red haired man standing beside her.

He smiled back at her with bright blue eyes. "Little Ginny," the man replied excitedly. "I haven't seen you..."

"Too long," Ginny answered before pulling him into a hug. She held him a bit longer than would be thought common for cousins. She pulled away. Two girls giggled beside her. "Lavender, Parvarti, this is Harry Prewett my wandering cousin who never wants to spend time with me anymore."

"A pleasure, Harry," Lavender said with rapidly blinking eyes. Parvarti did little better.

"I would be here more, but you know about my awfully jealous bride to be. The woman hoards my time, it's quite dreadful really." He grinned and kissed Ginny's hand, ignoring the two young women beside them.

"You will have to promise me a dance," Ginny said quickly. "Since you are free from that awful witch for the day."

"But of course, my dear cousin. I shall save the first for you." Harry winked. "But I really must see to poor cousin Ron. The poor lad might dress in his Cannon's jersey if left unattended for but a moment."

Ginny's mouth opened in horror; then she laughed. "He would wouldn't he?"

"Until the ceremony." Harry bowed while bidding farewell and she watched him walk away. The limp, courtesy of Malfoy, was almost gone. He looked dashing in his wizard's robes, but the red hair and blue eyes ruined the image. His green eyes and black hair could melt her with a single gaze.

"Is he really taken?" Lavender moaned, breaking Ginny's study of Harry.

Ginny nodded, fingering the invisible wand strapped to her forearm. "Yes, his bride is a rather nasty piece of work when angry. Best let the man enjoy the evening in peace." The two women still did not look away from the retreating Harry. "You're wasting your time, he loves her." She studied the growing crowd on the lawn below. "Why don't you go talk to my brother Charlie?" Her eyes sparkled. "He works with Dragons."

Their eyes snapped away from Harry and immediately went searching for Charlie. "Dragons? That must make for a tough man," Parvati said in a low voice. "Is he?" She pointed at a tall red haired man.

"That's Charlie," Ginny said with a smile. "He's definitely single."

The girls vanished and Ginny let out a relieved breath. She was finally free to go help Hermione.

The bride sat before the mirror in Ginny's room. The usually bushy brown hair had been tamed. It hung in long curly tendrils down her back and across her shoulder. Mrs Granger ran about the room fussing about everything in a very Hermione like fashion. But the woman in white sat in utter silence.

Ginny's own reflection stared back at her from the mirror. The strapless dress flowed down all the way to her ankles. A small slit on one side went up to her mid-thigh. The material deep blue, Hermione's colour for the wedding. It probably wasn't perfect for Ginny's complexion, but she had to admit that the dress brought out her feminine side and made for a nice change from all the Quidditch jerseys.

"You made it," Hermione said after realising Ginny had entered. "I was getting worried. I really need someone around me who isn't panicked."

Ginny took a few steps across the room and came to stand next to her friend. "You look beautiful," she whispered. Hermione tried to smile, but it only emphasised her nervousness.

"I'll never be able to repeat after the Minister." Hermione moaned. "What comes first, do we kiss then give rings? Or do the 'I do's' come first?"

Ginny rested her hand on her friend's shoulder. "The Minister will guide you Hermione. He's done it a hundred times and I'm sure he'll make sure everything is done at the proper time and in the correct order." Ginny laughed. "Besides, I'm sure you've got the entire event well-rehearsed in your mind."

"But Ginny..."

Ginny interjected her friend's tirade. "When you exit the backdoor with your father holding your arm you'll have nothing in your mind but Ron; who will be standing there by the alter. And Harry will be there to keep Ron rooted."

Hermione laughed. "And you'll definitely not be looking at him, or should I say your red haired cousin."

Ginny grinned mischievously. "I might let my eyes dally for a moment or two."

Hermione tried to look serious. "Just try to keep your hands to yourself. Just imagine the scandal. Drunk Quidditch star, Ginny Weasley, caught snogging cousin."

The thought sobered Ginny, even though Hermione had only been joking. Not for the first time she wished that she and Harry could just be themselves, but with Malfoy walking free the decision had been taken out of their hands.

She plastered a smile on her face. This was Hermione's day. "I'll feel sorry for the printers at the Prophet if they tried to print the scandal. Imagine trying to print so much Weasley red on a single page."

She gripped Hermione's bare shoulder softly as the bride grew tense. "You'll be great out there and before you can blink you'll be gone on that honeymoon; then before you catch your breath you'll be sitting in your new library reading a book while Ron is out flying in the garden." The scenario proved easier to stomach than more typical newlywed activities.

Hermione giggled nervously, probably guessing what Ginny was avoiding, as her father entered. "It's time ladies."

"Good luck," Ginny whispered.

Harry, together with Mr Weasley, tried desperately to calm Ron down. It proved even more difficult than Harry had predicted.

"I can't do this, mate," Ron said loudly. "I mean she is too perfect." He paced about the room.

"She is probably sitting there calmly waiting for this to start, Ron. You've got nothing to fear."

"She's so beautiful. I'll never be able to make her happy." Ron threw his arms up into the air. Harry waved Riddle's wand and deflected the glass of juice his friend knocked over before it could stain his new dress robes. "Merlin, Harry, I'm not smart enough to be married to a girl like Hermione."

"She's smart enough to see what a great guy you are," Harry said. He could see the grateful look from Arthur. The man had been unsuccessfully trying for some time before Harry's arrival to settle his son down. "She knows you, Ron, and she loves you."

Ron stopped pacing and faced Harry. "Does she?"

"Of course she does, you daft prat!" Harry almost shouted as he tried not to laugh out loud at his amusement over his friend's antics. He could only hope that he did not act like this in a few months' time.

"Right, of course she does." Ron grinned stupidly.

Harry clapped him on the shoulder. "Now we better get out there. Or you'll be walking down the aisle, arm linked with me, as I hand you over to Hermione."

"Right, I'm moving!" Ron shouted as he hurriedly grabbed his jacket and shot out the door.

Mr. Weasley rested a grateful hand on Harry's shoulder. "Thanks."

"No problem, Arthur."

A minute later the two men were standing at the altar. The guests were beginning to flood towards the white chairs arranged in neat rows. Harry stood anxiously beside Ron as witches and wizards came over to offer their congratulations and condolences, depending on the gender. Ron stuttered and slurred his way through responses.

Then the moment came. The music changed and the door opened. Ginny, dressed in her bridesmaid's dress came out first. Her long flowing red hair bounced about her shoulders and shone from the warm afternoon light illuminating it. Her shoulders were bare, something that would not have been possible if not for the complex and tiring heating charm over the venue. Her smile grew wider when she saw him. Harry could feel his own face stretch.

She walked with poise, managing to cover the ground between house and alter quickly without making it look rushed; the flat shoes helped. As she approached her gaze never wavered from his and Harry had a hard time imagining her in anything other than white.

Just before she veered off to the left, she mouthed, "love you." Harry fought the urge to send a kiss back, but since he was facing the guests it might not have been prudent. Perhaps he should've just come as her mystery boyfriend, but that might still happen when the things grew a bit more relaxed and informal. Standing at the altar would have too many people looking and asking questions.

Mrs. Granger, accompanied by Charlie since she had no son, followed closely behind. Harry had not even noticed the pair emerge from the house. In fact he had still been staring at Ginny long after she'd stopped walking.

Her firm athletic body and infectious smile had him all too captivated. Forcing his gaze away from the most beautiful woman alive, he faced the house and the faint hint of a white dress.

The music changed once again and everyone stood. Mr. Granger emerged dressed immaculately in a new Muggle suit and dark blue tie that matched Ginny's dress and Ron's own tie. Hermione, face veiled, stood tall and proud alongside her father. Through the thin material covering her face, Harry saw nothing but a broad, if somewhat nervous smile.

Her dress was perfect and suited her form. It was slightly off white, but it blended well with her natural brown hair. A single glance at her mother proved that the dress had been just as perfect for mother as daughter.

They walked much slower than the rushing Ginny and Harry could only imagine what his friend was going through. Chancing a glance at Ron, he saw a gobsmacked look of utter wonder in his face. But Harry felt the same. Hermione, as he'd come to realise over the past months, really could be a most beautiful woman when she tried. Though, they all preferred and loved the rushing Hermione with messy brown hair and book under arm or nose. It was nice, however, to see her shine everyone once in a while.

The ceremony passed quickly and soon the guests began to settle down at the various tables while Ron and Hermione disappeared with the photographer. It would be a moment of peace and quiet.

Ginny stood slightly alone, seeing as she did not have an official date for the wedding. Her eyes met Harry's and she motioned towards the house. It was a subtle gesture and it needed to be. A few of the younger, single, wizards were having a very hard time keeping their eyes off her.

In the distance, Harry casually raised a glass in response while he was talking to some bald wizard who'd cornered him. Harry was well aware of her predicament and they had discussed it. It might be time to switch plans.

She tapped her champagne glass with a nail as she wandered, seemingly aimlessly through the crowd. Unfortunately, her time away from hormone driven teen boys was not going to last.

"Ginny," a guy called out, looking all too smug with himself. She narrowed her eyes. He looked vaguely familiar, but she never really paid any attention to the kids outside her year. Quidditch had been all consuming and if not for Harry, still would be.

"Hi," she replied trying to be friendly.

"A lovely lady like yourself should not be without a wizard." He spoke in an overly fake deep voice. It sounded almost like he already had her mounted as some trophy on a bedroom wall or a notch on his wooden bed.

"I'm quite alright, thank you," she said a bit curtly. Her gaze lifted to Harry and she tapped her glass a few times in a casual manner again. He gave a short nod and hurried towards the house.

The young man before her laughed loudly as if she'd just made a huge joke. "Come now, Ginny. A bright star like you needs someone as wonderful..."

She did have a man who could stand by her and together she and Harry were equals. "I'm sorry, but I really do need to be going." Ginny said as she slipped passed him. He touched her shoulder, but she managed to shrug it off. It did, however, leave a sickening feeling deep in her stomach.

It took all of two steps before another idiot came to stand before her. "You really are a wonder of natural beauty," the dark haired boy whispered. "Would you do me the honour of telling me your name?" His eyes were glossed over in obvious fawning.

She rolled her eyes. "I think you already know me." With a huff she withdrew. Her breathing grew slightly more erratic and a tension began to build in her. People were crowding all around, tall and staring down at her. She hurriedly pushed past them. Harry was nowhere to be seen any more. She searched around frantically.

"Ginny. A pretty lady..." she rushed away from the voice.

She kept her head down and muscled her way through another group. "Don't let them get to you," Ginny whispered to herself.

Someone coughed. "A flower so rare needs..." The voice faded into the distance.

Her eyes were slightly wide and searching. Slowly her mind was descending into a darkness of damp corridors all leading towards a vast underground room. Each voice she heard began to sound like Tom. Traps laid down to lure her away from safety.

The crowds and the growing attention made her remember just why she'd never done much with friends and why she avoided parties. It always ended up being too much to handle.

Despite her growing fears she still managed a calm exterior. All the while desperately searching for Harry, he was supposed to be here for her. Her palms grew moist and her fingers gripped the champagne glass, amazingly it did not shatter.

"Easy there, Ginny." The voice warm and inviting. It brought with it a sense of home and comfort. A gentle hand rested comfortably on the small of her back. She sighed and leaned back against the warmth.

"I should be angry, Harry," Ginny whispered.

His hand moved up along her back and rubbed a bare shoulder. "I got stuck in a conversation with an Aunt Muriel. I don't think she believed me to be family."

The heaviness over her heart began to ease. A light began to shine in the deepest recesses of her mind. "She does love to know everything about everyone. I'll get mum to talk to her before she goes barmy."

She moved away slightly and turned in his arms. Harry's hair was back to a familiar black, but the features of his face were different and his eyes a dark blue. The painful scar he always hid was visible. He was almost unrecognisable.

"Harry Evans," Ginny whispered to him and he grinned.

"Merlin, why are there so many Harrys in your life? Is there something you need to tell me, Ginny?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

She tried for a sweet and innocent expression. "No." Her eyelashes fluttered. "But I could use another drink."

"Of course, my lady." Harry bowed extravagantly and vanished.

"Hi, Ginny." She rolled her eyes, but turned to face the man who spoke. "I have not seen you since graduating from Hogwarts." It was not that the man sounded or seemed ridiculous, it was just that he was not Harry. He held out a drink towards her.

She stared at the champagne. All the while trying to find words that would help. "No thanks, Harry's gone to get me one."

"Whose Harry?" he asked with narrowed eyes.

"He's me." Ginny relaxed again.

"And you are?" This time the man definitely sounded defensive. She narrowed her eyes trying to place the face.

"I'm me and you are?" Harry grinned jokingly while holding out the glass for Ginny to take. She liked that Harry didn't try to be possessive. He simply appeared and allowed her to explain their relationship.

"Neville Longbottom."

Harry held out his hand. "Evans, Harry Evans." Neville shook it grudgingly. Ginny tried to place the young man. He was very familiar, probably one of Ron's friends.

He glanced between Ginny and Harry. "And..."

"Well Harry is with me," Ginny answered as she slipped and arm around his waist.

Neville looked resigned, but did not run away. "I'm sorry, I was under the impression you were single. Or at least that rumours of a boyfriend a story."

"I like to keep things quiet." She dropped her arm and let her hand slip into Harry's. "The public eye can be very frustrating."

The man laughed, this time it was not forced. "I can imagine. I prefer my time with plants, they don't garner you nearly as much attention as Snitches, Quaffles and Bludgers."

"Longbottom?" Harry said suddenly. "You wouldn't be related of Frank and Alice."

"My mum and dad." Neville seemed slightly taken aback.

"I've heard much about them. It's an honour to meet their son."

"You, you know about them?" Neville stuttered. "Were you in the Order?"

Harry nodded slowly. "My condolences, I've heard they were great people."

"The finest," Neville replied with a hint of pride.

Silence descended over the three. Harry broke eye contact with Neville and glanced about. "So when do you think our two esteemed hosts will return?"

"Should be here any moment," Neville replied. "Unless they decided to start the honeymoon a bit early."

"Won't blame them with this crowd," Ginny rolled her eyes. Her wedding would definitely be smaller, much smaller.

The small diversion worked and Ginny watched on in silence as Harry began to discuss various plants with Neville. She stopped listening after a few minutes as the topic quickly surpassed her OWL level knowledge. It did, however, amaze her how easily Harry could interact with people when he wanted to. She supposed it was easier when people didn't think you famous or cursed.

Hermione and Ron eventually appeared and the whole family was quickly taken to a secluded corner of the garden where they could take some family photos. The seclusion allowed Harry to remove his charms. Hermione, and Ginny as well did not want anything but the real Harry in any of wedding photos.

The meal past quickly and before Ginny really registered anything the dance floor had been opened by a slightly flat footed Ron and awkward Hermione. But the dance still remained perfect.

"Care for a dance?" Ginny asked Harry.

He looked terribly unsure of himself, but agreed after the dance floor filled enough for them to hide amongst the masses. After leading her to the middle he slipped an arm around her back and took hold of her right hand. He stood tall and firm before her.

It took a few minutes for them to really get comfortable with each other's dancing. But once they'd adjusted Harry managed to lead her gracefully. The music faded into the distance, her attention wholly on Harry as he weaved them between the more stationary couples.

Eventually the song faded and a much slower rhythm floated out from the band. Harry grinned and brought her in close. "I think I like dancing with you a lot."

"I think I might be liking this to," Ginny replied.

"Might?" He looked down, eyes wide. "Funny, Weasley."

She grinned. "The look on your face was worth the taunt."

He raised an arm and led her through a turn. She spun round, noticing the emptying floor, and returned to him; their bodies hugging as his right leg passed between hers. Their eyes mere inches apart. "Beautiful," he whispered and she felt a blush rise.

His body moved again and she followed not even sure what they were doing or what dance this was. She'd never gone past the waltz. This was slow, intimate. She could feel his love for her radiating from his expression and the way his body moved with hers. They were one, flowing with the music and each other.

He spun her out again and the coldness of being away gripped her, only to be burned away as he brought her back with a firm pull. They collided softly, legs intertwined, and paused. It seemed to last forever; her chest rose and fell as she inhaled. Their hips, almost as if one moved together, forwards to the side and then back. The process repeated.

Regretfully the music had to stop and Harry had to let go. He took her hand and led her from the dance floor and out into the garden. Neither said anything. Words were not needed.

The evening passed quickly after that, but by the end of it Ginny was sure that an article about her and the mysterious Harry Evans would be in the Witch Weekly before the end of the week. The Prophet might even have an article the next day.

Sorry for the delay in posting. Been busy, and I'll remain busy for the next few weeks. Hence, the next update might be a while in coming. Some the delay is partly due to a slight reshuffling of events, so some scenes, already written, need to be heavily edited and new ones written.

Thank you for your continued support and for reading!