Holy Island was a tiny, emerald dot in the sea off the coast of Wales. It snuggled up to a larger, more populous island, and was known to Muggles as a peaceful place to holiday if one didn't expect large crowds or more sophisticated entertainments than kayaking and bird-watching. To the magical population of the United Kingdom, however, it was the place to go bird-watching if one were a fan of the fiercely talented Quidditch playing witches known as the Holyhead Harpies. So renowned were they that a little souvenir stand was located ten feet from the Apparition point, and proudly boasted scarves and jumpers, hats and robes, all decorated rather splashingly with the Harpy emblem.

Two fresh arrivals appeared just as the souvenir seller was setting up his little shop. The tall, dark-haired man strode over to him, waited patiently as he fumbled his wand and had to speak the incantation to display the OPEN sign three separate times with increasing volume before his magic obeyed.

Harry, who was used to this type of thing, waited patiently, then immediately bought the first thing that looked it might fit and pulled it over his head, settling it right over his emerald green jumper. It clashed slightly, but Harry didn't care. His companion took slightly more care with her choice, choosing the smallest thing she could find, and rather limply threaded it in her bushy brown hair.

All the while, the wizard who sold them the team paraphernalia stammered and turned a bright, fierce red. It took some time to convince him to take Harry's sickles, but in just a few minutes he and Hermione were walking down a quiet little street. The wind blew them down it. Harry breathed deeply, enjoying the salty air and the exotic scent of the sea, letting his eyes wander around, and thinking there were far worse places Ginny could've ended up in pursuit of her professional Quidditch career.

"This is her street," said Harry, pointing at a little lane that was identical to the ones next to it.

"Are you sure?" said Hermione.

"Yes," said Harry.

"But it looks like all the others, and I can't see a street name…"

Harry gave her a level look. Even though Ron had been unexpectedly detained by Ministry protocol, Harry was not going to admit to anything out loud. But he knew exactly which street it was because he'd spent a bit of time walking up and down it searching for Ginny's place. This was just yesterday, in fact. But considering Ginny had just moved in two days ago and Harry had been busy nearly every hour since, which Hermione knew, he did not want to admit he'd carved out two very late hours from his day in order to be with his girlfriend. It was private.

Time to change the subject.

"Do you think she'll like my shirt?" Harry asked. He spread his arms, displaying the dark green shirt that had a golden talon displayed rather prominently across his chest.

"It's very supportive," said Hermione. She patted her head, where Harry could just barely make out a tiny, dark green ribbon held prisoner by her hair. "Will she like mine?"

"It shows exactly how much you love Quidditch," said Harry. "Meaning, not nearly enough." This he said in a very stern tone. It was an undeniable truth that Hermione's enthusiasm for Quidditch needed some work. "For the one everyone's calling the brightest witch of her age, you've not got your priorities in order."

"At least I wouldn't have cried like Ron did when he found out someone taped a Holyhead Harpies poster over his Cannons one and applied a permanent sticking charm to it," Hermione said, smirking.

Harry shook his head and said sadly, "Kreacher must have—"

"Harry!" Hermione said, laughing. "Don't blame Kreacher."

"I admit nothing," said Harry.

Their conversation had carried them down the little lane, past a group of wizards in Harpies regalia, who had left off their conversation and were now staring at Harry, mouths gaping open. Harry gave them a pleasant nod but continued past them.

Harry wasn't surprised. While Holyhead was not a strictly magical community, there was quite a large wizarding population due to the Harpies, the support staff for one of the most successful teams in the league, and fans. The Ministry had gone so far as to buy up property on the edge of the town closest to the stadium and cast Muggle repelling charms on those streets and avenues. Witches and wizards could wear robes and support the Harpies as much as they wanted without worrying over the Statute of Secrecy. It was no wonder that everyone on the street was now turning toward Harry and staring. There would be no anonymity here.

So he ignored it as much as he could. The closer he got to Ginny's door, the easier it got. By the time he had opened the gate and followed Hermione through it, the stares and whispers of "Harry Potter!" and "Do you see him? He's right there!" had receded enough in his awareness that they might not even exist. When the door opened at his first knock and Ginny stepped into his arms and gave him a very thorough greeting kiss, nothing else mattered.

It didn't last nearly as long as Harry wanted. They were on a public street, Hermione was standing right there… Ginny parted from him. "Hi, Harry," she said.

"Hi," said Harry.

"Hi, Ginny," said Hermione.

"Hi, Hermione," said Ginny. "Not that I mind but, don't you usually have an appendage named Ron you drag around with you?"

"Oh, he got caught up with Ministry protocol," said Harry, rolling his eyes. "He might catch up with us later, but who knows?"

"So it's just the three of us," said Hermione. She looked around at the street and the cottages. "This is a cute little neighborhood. Are you all Harpies?"

"Yeah," said Ginny. "This street is just for us – support staff, players, everyone. That way if any fans get boisterous, the manager can just close off the street." She paused. "That's never happened, though. It's just in case."

"That's a smart policy," said Hermione.

"So, I haven't done a lot of sight-seeing, so I won't be much of a tour guide, but do you want to see some of the island? Some of the other players mentioned a few things… there's a bazaar that opens pretty soon. I thought we could check out the stadium first and then go browse…"

"The stadium?"

"Yes, Hermione, the stadium," said Harry. "I've only been wanting to see it since they signed Ginny on!"

"I just didn't know there was anything to see…"

Ginny described her first few days as a professional Quidditch player with enthusiasm. It was September 15 and not only had a new term of Hogwarts started, but it appeared Quidditch followed almost the same schedule. The first day was signing papers, picking a cottage, and having a small party with the rest of the players and support staff. Harry knew all this, as he had visited her at two in the morning that night. But he listened quietly and held her hand as they walked.

The stadium was carved into the side of Holyhead Mountain – literally. "They say they tried to build it to look like a Harpy roost," Ginny said proudly. A security wizard nodded at them as they entered it. Harry looked around, noting the different elements that made it look that way: some were subtle, and others blatant, but even Hermione murmured her appreciation of the artistry.

They entered the top of the stadium and looked down at the Quidditch pitch below. All three took a seat near the top and just looked down at the view.

"So this is where you play?" Hermione asked.

"Practice… play league games… play friendlies… this is where all of it happens," said Ginny.

"What's a friendly?" Hermione asked.

"Mock games — usually the reserves playing against the regulars, but sometimes we switch it up," said Ginny. "It's like a real Quidditch game in every way, though."

Harry leaned back in the stadium seat, idly toying with Ginny's braid. Even while talking to Hermione — who could dampen anyone's enthusiasm for Quidditch — she was vibrant in talking of the sport she loved. Her hands moved as she talked, her eyes sparkled, and Harry couldn't quite take his eyes off of her. It reminded him of the first days after the war, when they were finding their way back to each other, when they would sit and talk for hours about what anything and nothing and everything. When they were too exhausted to talk of the deep things — the loss of Fred, the war, Voldemort's death, the Horcruxes — they spoke of Quidditch. Her passion for it had made him want to resign his new position at the Ministry and try to find a team willing to take him on.

"Harry? What are you thinking about?" Ginny addressed him directly. Her fingers were curled on his thigh.

"Thinking if the Harpies would want a reserve seeker," Harry said, grinning at her.

"Compelling thought, but you've got a bit of extra equipment not traditionally accepted by the Harpies," said Ginny. The tickle of her fingers against his thigh reminded him of the particular equipment she was referencing.

"Polyjuice," Harry said promptly.

"Quidditch matches last more than an hour — what will you do, carry a hip flask?" Ginny shook her head and tsked.

"Transfiguration?" Harry said.

Ginny squeezed his thigh in mock alarm. "Don't you dare. Transfiguration isn't your strong suit — you might do something permanent." The look she gave him was like the sun coming out, warming his body. It was a reminder of all the ways they enjoyed that particular part of Harry together, and it made him want to cut the day with Hermione short and take Ginny home to her cottage.

But that would be rude, so instead he said: "Are you telling me you wouldn't love the Girl Who Lived?"

Hermione snorted. "You think awfully highly of your abilities, if you think you could transfigure a — a bat into a — a—" But her failure at knowing even the slightest bit about Quidditch made her fumble the innuendo. "Goal post? Anyway. I doubt you could make one of those."

Harry and Ginny were laughing. "Goal post!" Ginny crowed. "Honestly, Hermione!"

They teased Hermione all the way out of the stadium. Now that they'd seen it, Ginny wanted to go explore the bazaar she'd heard about, and with fog blowing in from the sea, they wanted to see it before it began to rain.

"I read that it was built on Roman ruins," said Hermione. "There was a Roman outpost here, you know. And of course, the Romans almost always used locations where they found standing stones. The ancient magical peoples here built them—"

"But did they build goal posts?" Ginny interrupted.

Harry laughed while Hermione groaned.

As they came out of the stadium, she took his hand and linked her fingers with his. "So how long is Ron with the Aurors today?" she asked. "I ask only because it's nice not having him breathe down my neck for daring to want a bit of a snog." She paused. "And for any Quidditch innuendo that may have happened"

"He should be out around three," Harry said.

"And I'm not sure he'll join us," said Hermione. "He probably didn't sleep well last night—"

"Ron? Not sleep well?" Ginny asked in disbelief.

Hermione shrugged. "It's the first time this has happened so far, so I really don't know what to expect."

"The first time what—"

But Ginny was interrupted by Hermione's honest to goodness squeal. Just outside the stadium was a little path. They'd walked along it a little way, skirting around the base of Holyhead Mountain, and had come to a couple of sentinel oak trees. Between them, light sparked. As they passed through, a tingle went through his body. Before him was an open-air market of so many magical things that Harry could not help but gape around him. It was as though all the shops in Diagon Alley lost their walls and the proprietors jumbled their wares around. Custom designed brooms to match the Harpies colors soared by themselves through the air; magical tapestries fluttered in the wind depicting everything from battles to lovers reuniting; potioneers hawked their wares, and an extraordinarily tall, thin man carried around a tray of food.

"I've never seen anything like this!" Hermione said in wonder.

The three of them spent the next few hours ignoring the stares and whispers of everyone who noticed Harry Potter was shopping among them. Harry bought Ginny a small gift for her cottage: a tree wrought of metal and colored almost realistically. "It changes with the season, you see," said the beaming proprietor, pointing out that some of the leaves were threaded with yellow.

Harry didn't buy it because it was a fairly impressive bit of magic. He wrapped his arm around Ginny's shoulder and whispered in her ear: "Remember that tree...?"

A light flush spread over her cheeks. The shared memory leapt between them. Harry remembered kissing her under a tree that looked remarkably like the one wrought of metal and magic that he held in his hand. It was under that tree that they'd taken the first steps toward real intimacy. Hiding from students, professors, Dumbledore and his lessons on Horcruxes, they had found joy in one another. Unable to help it, Harry's gaze dropped to her chest. There was a reason why that time with her had felt like it was from someone else's life. Warmth pooled low in his belly and he shifted a little. Then a little more when Ginny gave him a knowing look and a wink.

It made him hold her a little closer the rest of their walk around the bazaar. His arm was either draped around her or they were holding hands.

The tree was an excellent purchase, thought Harry.

"Are either of you hungry?" Hermione asked, quite some time later.

Harry looked up from what he was looking at: it was a saucy statue of what was advertised to be a mandrake, but looked more like a garden gnome. It was rooted to its stand by a tendril of root that looked remarkably like the beater's bat they were talking to earlier. Its wide brown mouth opened in a leering grin every few seconds — just after it waggled its bum.

"I'm hungry," said Ginny.

"I could eat," said Harry. His attention was drawn back to the mandrake gnome.

"Just buy it, Harry," said Ginny.

"Oh, what, no..."

What would he do with such a thing? But Harry couldn't deny how funny it was, with its homely face and absurdly large—

"I'll buy it," said Ginny. "How much is it?" The witch who was selling this particular item tried to protest, tried to thrust it into Harry's hands, but Ginny knew exactly what to do with people who were overly awed by Harry. Within moments, they were wandering away, mandrake in hand.

"Thank you, Ginny," said Harry.

"You're welcome," said Ginny.

Hermione led them back toward a booth that sold all sorts of food stuffs – hardly any of which Harry recognized. "I don't even know what to order," he whispered in Ginny's ear. "What – is it all Welsh food?"

"I don't know," Ginny whispered back. "It's the first time I've been here."

Hermione managed to choose several things from the menu that might be difficult to pronounce, but turned out to be quite delicious. By unspoken agreement, the three of them carried the food in bags and left the bazaar area. Ginny pointed out another small path. "I heard there's a good spot just ahead," she said. So the three of them ate amicably, overlooking the Irish Sea that glittered grey and white under the overcast sky. Seabirds wheeled around and Harry felt warm and content.

"Well, it's nearly three," Hermione announced.

Harry started. "You're leaving?"

"I want to meet Ron as soon as he can get away," she said.

"Tell him I said hello, and thanks for not coming," Ginny said, smirking.

"I'll be sure to tell him that," Hermione said dryly.

They packed up all their impromptu picnic things, and walked her back to the Apparition point. Hermione stooped to hug Ginny. "This is such a lovely spot, congratulations again," she said. "I'll look forward to coming to visit again."

"And go to some games?" Ginny said slyly.

"Yes – I will go," said Hermione.

Ginny laughed, hugged her again, it was less than a minute before they were alone again. Hand in hand, they wandered around the wizarding part of Holyhead. There were all sorts of hidden marvels: a large mural along one wall depicted the sea life off the Welsh coast, and a great whale surfaced every now and again, looking as real as could be; a playground for children had fairies in the trees, their twinkling light looking like candles, even in the full light of day; and once, Harry tripped to the side and triggered a path through a hedge to appear, leading them to a shady, secret spot that once more reminded him of the more secluded areas of Hogwarts.

"Remind you of anything?" Harry said. There was a small gazebo, and he set both the metal tree and the mandrake on the railing. Then, celebrating the fact they were alone and private, he pressed his lips to hers. There was no real reason to hold back, so he didn't.

She nipped at his bottom lip. "Hogwarts," she murmured. "Fifth year."

Harry groaned at the feel of her tongue touching his. "Where we started," he said. It didn't take much for the warmth between them to turn into heat. Her hands stroked his chest, a fingernail traced the pattern of the Harpy talon, and Harry felt it even through the layers of the t-shirt and his jumper. There was the familiar sensation of falling and his body heated, tightened, and hardened as he kissed her.

It was so much more now. It no longer felt like a piece of someone else's life. It felt like a piece of his own life – hard won that it was. At times – like now – he was so mindful of all that he'd almost lost that he held her a little tighter, kissed her a little harder, and fell a little more sweetly under the spell of her touch and the feel of her lips against his.

His hands slid along her back, up her sides, brushed against the curve of her breast.

"Harry!" Ginny pulled away with a gasp.

"What – sorry—"

"No, don't apologize," she said. Color bloomed in her cheeks. Her hand was on his back and slid downward. "I just think I have a cottage with a bed and no chance of anyone related to me walking in, for once."

"That… right, let's do that," said Harry.

Their ambling walk had ended. Ginny pulled him away from the gazebo and back toward the public street. Their arms were wrapped around each other, and Harry was grateful for Ginny's presence. Walking down the street in his state might have garnered a few more stares than he usually got just for being Harry Potter. She laughed when he sped up.

"Eager to get to the goal post?" Ginny said, laughing at him. Tendrils of brilliant red hair had escaped the confines of her braid and her face was still flushed. It hit Harry again how beautiful she was.

"No," said Harry, shaking his head. "Remember, Hermione's sleeping with a Keeper. I prefer to look for the Snitch… you know, that tiny little thing everyone says is so hard to find—"

"And yet you find it so easily," Ginny said in a low voice, and licked her lips.

They were paused on the cobblestones, staring at each other. If Harry kissed her now, they would be certain to be photographed – it would be in the Daily Prophet tomorrow. He almost didn't care. "Yes, well," he said, swallowing. "You only really win the game if you catch the Snitch." His lips quirked into a smile. "Thenwe can think about that goal post."

"Damn it, let's hurry."

Five minutes later, Ginny was tapping her wand against her door in a complicated rhythm. It opened a moment later.

The first and last time he was here, it had been very dark, and they'd gone straight to her bed. Now Harry looked around. It was small but comfortable. It was fairly bare of furniture and much of it looked as though Molly had forced Ginny to take it.

"I thought I'd buy a few things in a bit," Ginny said, as though reading his mind.

"Maybe a sofa?" Harry suggested. "So we can sit and listen to the wireless out here…"

"I'll get one," Ginny promised.

As soon as they set down the mandrake and the tree, Harry took her in his arms. The immediate intensity they'd created in the gazebo was banked now, so they teased each other. Harry brushed his thumb across her cheek and nipped lightly at her lips. "I've been wanting to hold you all day," he said in a low voice.

She looped her arms around his neck. "I think we've been touching each other most of the day." Her fingernails tickled the back of his neck and Harry kissed her again.

"You know what I mean," Harry said.

"Of course I do," said Ginny.

They sort of swayed out of the small living room down the hall toward Ginny's bedroom. Her hands were busy, tugging his shirt over his head and pulling his sweater up to his armpits so she could touch his chest. Warmth once more turned to heat as her thumbs brushed over his nipples. He gathered her up and kissed her hard. Her busy fingers slid down his chest, his stomach, and reached his belt.

Her bedroom was cool and dark. Ginny separated from him to set the metal tree on the headboard. She turned to him with a grin and said, "There. That way we're under the tree again."

"We're going to scandalize it," Harry told her. As they'd swayed down the hall, she'd done good work undressing him. He pulled his sweater off all the way and dropped his trousers, kicking them off his feet as he walked toward her. His pants were left on, and as soon as he was close enough to her, Ginny reached out and stroked her finger over him.

As much as he didn't want to interrupt the pleasure he got from her touch, it was time she joined him.

He'd always loved watching her undress, helping her undress, or even undressing her totally himself. Right now, the sun was setting, and her room was dimly lit. But as she tugged her robes off, revealing a simple white shift that buttoned in the back. Humming a little in pleasure, Harry moved to stand behind her and shifted her braid so it went over her shoulder. "I love it when you wear this," he said.

"I know," she said.

Every time Harry undid a button, more of her creamy skin was revealed. In the dim light, her freckles looked like a dusting of shadows. The curve of her back dipped inward at the base, shadows arranging themselves in such a way that Harry found nearly endlessly intriguing. He slid it off her shoulders, kissed them, running his hands up her belly to cup her breasts. Her bra was made of thick cotton, but he could feel her nipples, stiff against his palms. With some reluctance, Harry quickened his leisurely pace, tugging her bra up as she pulled her knickers down.

Then they were atop her comforter. Harry had noticed the other night that the comforter and sheets themselves were charmed to smell fresh and flowery. When they tumbled down to the bed, the scent released, filling his nostrils with it. His thumb brushed over her belly just as her fingers found him through his pants and circled around him, squeezing lightly.

"Does that feel good?"

"You know it does," Harry said hoarsely. Her thumb found a damp spot where the tip of him jutted toward her. She pressed down and Harry clenched his teeth.

"Good," she said smugly.

A shiver went up his spine at her tone and he rolled her over onto her back and kissed her. "Time for me to find that snitch," he said. Then he began a slow descent down her body. He tasted the hollow of her throat, her shoulders, and the valley between her breasts. Each of her dusky rose nipples were given attention until she was moaning and writhing under him. His tongue circled around her navel and then he moved his head further down to find what he was truly looking for.

His shoulders nudged her legs further apart until she was spread totally open for him. He gave her light, nipping little kisses on her folds, breathing in deeply as he did, feeling mildly intoxicated by the scent. Her body shifted a little, and he glanced up, not surprised to find her propped up on her elbows looking down on him. They both liked the view when he did this.

They both liked it when he did this which was why he was shocked when — just as he was first using his tongue to nudge her sweet spot — she stopped him.

"What?" Harry said, confused. "Why?"

"Not much of a challenge when you can see exactly what you're looking for," Ginny said breathlessly.

"Challenge?" Harry asked. Arousal had permeated so much of him that it was difficult to understand what she meant. Either she was taking the Quidditch metaphor too far or he wasn't taking it far enough.

"Let's see if you can find it when it's a little harder," said Ginny. Harry moved away from her, feeling a little baffled. Ginny had never stopped him before; if anything, she would keep him there where she wanted him.

Harry was so confused that it took him a moment to realize that she was grabbing a pillow and positioning it just so in the center of the bed. His erection throbbed before he quite realized what she was doing. "Ohhhh," he said when she knelt next to the pillow and leaned over. Unable to help it, he touched himself, stroking it, even as he moved to position himself behind her.

"See?" she said. "It's more of a challenge."

She was right, of course. Harry tugged his pants down to his thighs, freeing himself, and rubbing it against her bum. Her braid bunched at her neck, and with a small tug, Harry pulled the hair tie out and threaded his fingers through it, loosening the plaits. It was soft and silky, and Harry played with it until her hips squirmed and he recognized the signs of her impatience. His palm brushed down her back to grip her hip as he took himself in hand to position his penis at her entrance. She was hot and wet already and he slid in as smooth as butter.

"Fuck, Ginny," he said.

"That's the idea," she said.

Harry could hardly think after that, could only focus on pressing inside of her. Sweat beaded on his brow and across his chest. They no longer spoke; the only sounds in the room were their sharp breaths.

"Weren't you — going to look for that Snitch?" Ginny asked, looking back over her shoulder at him. His hand was in her hair again. Bright red strands were twisted around his fingers. For a moment, Harry was so focused on how good he felt, how close he was, how wonderful it was to feel her wet, silky heat all around him that he could not comprehend why she was talking about Quidditch.

"Oh!" he said finally. He gently untangled his fingers from, and slid it under under her body. He paused for a moment to toy with her nipples, enjoying the way her body pushed against his as he did so. Then he moved his hand down to just above where their bodies were joined.

Her knees widened.

"Helping me find it?" Harry said breathlessly. "Aren't you going to accuse me of cheating?"

"I want you to find it," she said.

And she moaned when he did. Her head dropped down to the bed as his fingers found that nub of hers and began to rub. It was slick and hard, but Harry kept at it, his own pleasure goaded to further heights by her whimpers.

Neither one of them lasted much longer. Harry's thrusts were sharper and shorter. His eyes were tightly closed and all he could think about was the sensation of being inside her, surrounded by her, enveloped totally in the heat they created together. When she came, her body squeezed him tightly, rippling around him. He'd been waiting for this, and he finally allowed himself to relinquish control and push into her three more times before he cried out and came.

Sharp, sweet pleasure slowly turned languid and dreamy. Harry's heartbeat slowed before his breathing evened out. Ginny turned the covers back on her bed and slid into it. With a clumsiness born of the languor that now suffused his limbs, Harry followed after. "That was brilliant," he said, awed. And he couldn't help but be, a little. If he'd thought their love life was excellent when they were first starting out, they were only getting better with practice.

"You're brilliant," Ginny mumbled into his chest.

Harry couldn't help the grin that spread across his face. "I told you, I was a Seeker for a reason." He sighed and stroked her back. "I do think you're lucky, you know, playing Quidditch for a living."

There was a quiet moment. They both knew that Harry could've joined any Quidditch team he wanted (minus the Harpies). Whether it was due to his name or his talent, no one would have refused him. It was better that he was an Auror, there was a genuine need for dark wizard catchers, and Harry knew that he was needed. But damn, he missed flying.

"I know," Ginny said. "I was thinking I'd get a tattoo of a snitch… that way you can try to catch it any time you want."

All angst over his career decisions fled Harry's mind. He could so see her doing that… he'd seen the sort of magical tattoos she meant. It could be charmed to move as swiftly as a snitch… Harry would have an excuse to look over Ginny's body as thoroughly as he once had the Quidditch pitch at Hogwarts. This idea pleased him so much that he pressed kisses against her shoulder, her neck, her jaw, and finally her lips.

"That's a wonderful idea," he said.

"I wasn't totally serious, but now I think I might be," Ginny said, laughing.

Harry fitted their bodies more comfortably together. For long minutes, they just kissed the way they had the first few times, when everything was new. His body sated, he kissed her just for the sheer pleasure of it. When they finally drew apart, her eyes were half-lidded and glittering in the twilight.

"Harry, will you stay with me tonight?" she asked abruptly.

"I – yes, of course," said Harry.

It was a slight milestone. They'd spent the night together a couple of times; the advantage of dating a seventh year at Hogwarts last year was that Harry could get a room at one of the small inns at Hogsmeade and Ginny could stay with him when she had a free weekend. But never where they lived. She'd never slept an entire night in his bed at Grimmauld Place – Ron lived there, too. And Harry had certainly never had the brass to sleep in Ginny's room at the Burrow. The times they'd even had sex there were few and far between, and almost always initiated by Ginny. And accepted by Harry because how was he meant to say no to her?

"Yes," he said again. "Yes, I want to."

"Oh, good," said Ginny.

They kissed again.

"I bet you're happy right now," said Harry.

"Because you're staying the night?"

He shook his head. "Because you're dating a Seeker and not a Keeper—"

Ginny's laugh interrupted him. "Yes. Yes, I am." She pulled back a little, and her gaze went a little distant. "That reminds me – what was going on with Ron today? I thought both of you were meant to have the day off?"

"Oh, that was a bit of Ministry protocol," Harry said, rolling his eyes a little. "Remember I told you we were going on a raid?"

"Yes," said Ginny.

"Well, apparently back when Voldemort was grabbing for power the first time, he had his Death Eaters set up sensory charms wherever they were. They'd catch on an Auror's clothes and Voldemort would have access to them – listening to what they say, seeing what they do if the charm was strong enough… Robards was telling us that's how a lot of people were turned. Death Eaters found the families of the people fighting them, and – well, you can guess."

"Indeed," said Ginny. Her voice was troubled and her brow was furrowed. "But what's that got to do with Ron?"

"He's fine, don't worry," said Harry. "Well, they still do it. Ron got a couple on him when he brushed by a vase…" Harry himself had seen it. Little embers had caught on Ron's cloak and then melted into it. "So the Ministry has a protocol that if you've got a sensory charm on you, you've got to go to a Ministry safe house. It's a mandatory twenty-four hours… that way they can be sure it's not leaking information to anyone anymore…"

"Ron had to go into hiding?" Ginny said, aghast.

"Just to a Ministry safe house," Harry assured her. "He isn't in any real danger."

Ginny shifted onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. Harry stroked her arm, willing her to understand that it was simply a matter of the Ministry being cautious. But it was long moments before he felt her relax. "I guess it's smart," she said, sighing. She turned her head so she was looking at him; Harry reached up to brush her hair out of her face.

"It's smart," Harry admitted. "I mean, it isn't a stupid policy. I don't know if it's necessary just at this moment… The Daily Prophet talks about all the Aurors. Death Eaters… dark wizards… they all already know who we are."

There was a long silence. "I don't like the idea," Ginny said. Harry guessed she was worried about his safety.

"It's safe," he promised her.

She looked at him. "Will you tell me?"

"Of course," said Harry.

Later, he would remember this conversation with regret, wishing he could somehow go back to it and coax what she meant, exactly, out of her instead of assuming that he knew. But instead, he spoke of lighter things as twilight deepened around them until they were laughing together, and Harry was much too certain the subject of safe houses and Ministry protocol was put to rest.

HPHPHPHPHPHP

Author's Note: This was supposed to be a one-shot, but it turned out too long. It's 90% done, though, so no, this doesn't mean I am writing three fics at once.

This one is dedicated to the discord server.

Blvnk provided the inspiration on tumblr.

And thanks to LoquaciousLotusBlossom and Meyers1020 who helped me with at least two different insecurities. Thank you!