Bowing to the insistence of Ginny, a group of second years and Ron, Harry put up the Quidditch tryout notice the day after the victory at the Wizengamot. A crowd of students were gathered around it before breakfast had even started.

“Why aren’t they all still asleep?” grumbled Seamus blearily from an armchair near the fireplace in the common room. “Don’t they know it’s Sunday?”

“Well, what are you doing up then, you great lump?” asked Dean as he lowered himself onto one of the couches.

“Same thing you are, ain’t I?” Seamus retorted. “Pursuit of women.”

“Oh really?” Neville asked, wandering up to the small group by the fire.

“Takin’ Luna to breakfast then Neville?” Seamus asked. “Might just come along, won’t be in the way or nothing.” Seamus jumped up and trailed after Neville.

“He’s still chasing that Audrey bird,” Dean sighed.

“Pursuit of women?” inquired Harry with a raised eyebrow. Dean just shrugged and unfolded himself from the couch before heading out the portrait hole. Harry stared into the fire.

He jumped when warm hands encircled him from behind and soft lips pressed a kiss to his neck.

“Good morning,” Ginny whispered. Harry turned his head and smiled.

“Morning.”

“Hermione will be down shortly,” Ginny said cheerfully, standing up straight. “She just needs a moment to get her bearings.” Harry eyed her suspiciously.

“Did you give her some hangover potion?”

“Well, Harry,” said Ginny slowly, thoughtfully, “that’s the curious thing. I cannot seem to find any.” At that moment Harry heard a shuffling on the stairs and a very pale Hermione Granger entered the common room moments later.

“Good morning, Hermione!” sang Ginny cheerfully. Hermione winced. “Ready for breakfast? I hope they have lots of bacon and eggs with toast and lashings of butter!” Hermione turned a delicate shade of green and lowered herself gingerly into a chair.

“You all right, Hermione?” Harry asked. “Not going to throw up on me again are you?”

“Again?” asked Hermione and groaned. “I threw up on you already?”

“Well only once actually on me,” clarified Harry. “But um … twice, yeah.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Hermione closed her eyes and leaned back in the chair. “Why is the world still spinning?”

“So, you and Ron got up to some mischief last night then?” asked Ginny, leaning on the back of the couch. Harry suddenly had a very good view down her top. His eyes flicked up to her face and by her smirk, he knew she was doing it on purpose.

“We were just celebrating my birthday,” Hermione muttered. “I think, perhaps too many people wanted to buy us drinks.”

“Ah, the price of fame,” Harry nodded sagely and Ginny burst into giggles. Hermione held her head and moaned.

****************

Hermione needed no encouragement to help Ginny with her studies. In Harry’s experience this had always meant filling every available minute with a book in your hand. Ginny was no exception. It left few chances for him to be alone with her. They had been caught kissing once by Professor Flitwick in an empty classroom and by Hagrid down by the lake but for the most part they never had more than a few stolen moments before Hermione would whisk Ginny off somewhere to study. For some reason they just never seemed to have enough time. Harry was starting to feel like he would never have enough time with her because every time he tried to say more than a few words it would be time for a class or someone needed to see him or Ginny went to catch up on her studies. The one time they had ventured up to the Astronomy Tower, giggling under the Invisibility Cloak, they had seen rather more of Draco Malfoy and his girlfriend than they ever cared to.

The next Saturday dawned a bit overcast and gloomy for the Quidditch tryouts and Ron arrived in the Gryffindor common room fireplace before breakfast. He startled Harry who was hurriedly scratching out part of a Transfiguration essay, hoping to get it finished before they began the trials which looked likely to last most of the morning. Harry was hoping that with Hermione occupied by Ron he would be able to have Ginny to himself for more than three minutes that afternoon.

“Morning, Harry!” greeted Ron. “You’re looking very studious.”

“Comes with being a student,” Harry grimaced.

“Hermione said its Quidditch trials this morning,” Ron said.

“Listen mate,” began Harry hesitantly, “I know you came to spend time with Hermione, but d’you think you could … we need a Keeper …” He trailed off. Ron beamed at him.

“I’m there!” exclaimed Ron exuberantly. “I’ll find you the best Keeper you can get out of all the little scrawny midgets!”

With Hermione sufficiently distracted by Ron, Harry managed to steal Ginny away before they went down to breakfast. She all but pinned him to the wall in a little alcove just off the sixth floor corridor and Harry wondered idly if they had enough room or time for something a little more adventurous. Ginny certainly seemed willing, he mused, as she ran her hands up under his shirt with very little preamble. This was probably even a less desirable place than the Quidditch changing room, however, and he pulled away from her insistent hands.

“Let’s skip breakfast,” Ginny said breathlessly. Harry laughed.

“I don’t think so, we have to get ready for Quidditch tryouts,” he murmured. Ginny shrugged delicately.

“I think it would really … help.” She looked up at him and smiled. Harry debated in his mind. For the first time in a week they were alone, together; Hermione was not going to suddenly turn up and they had nowhere to be until ten o’clock.

“Well …” Harry’s voice cracked a little and Ginny grinned victoriously.

“There should be plenty of empty rooms around here … in a castle this big,” she said, winding her arms around his waist.

Later, Harry wondered if he would have given in to her but at that moment a very loud croak sounded near their feet and Ginny jumped. Harry felt, but did not see something land on his foot and heard the sound of shuffling footsteps, thumping doors and raised voices getting closer.

“Is that … I think its Trevor,” Ginny whispered as she pulled out her wand. “Lumos.” Two gleaming eyes blinked up at them and the toad croaked again. The thumping and shouting got louder. Harry could hear people calling.

“Trevor!”

“Bart!”

“I’m telling you, get a bigger cage!” Othello sounded distinctly irritated. Harry peered out into the corridor and saw Neville and Luna with Dexter and his friends. He pulled back into the alcove and pressed himself and Ginny against the back wall.

“Maybe they won’t see us,” he whispered as he nudged at Trevor with his foot.

“I’m sick of looking for your stupid toad. I told you to get an owl,” Hamish grumbled as the group got closer. Trevor hopped back into the alcove with Harry and Ginny and climbed onto Harry’s foot.

“Get off you slimy little amphibian,” Harry hissed. Ginny shivered and pressed herself closer to Harry.

“That toad keeps giving me the creeps,” she said in a hushed whisper. “Look, he’s staring. Nox.” She cancelled the spell and they were plunged into the shadows.

“I do not think you should try to separate Trevor and Bart,” Luna’s voice floated through the corridor. “It is clear they wish to be together.”

“Luna! Trevor’s not like that!”

“He is a toad, not a monk, Neville. He has needs.”

“But … Bart’s a …”

“I do not think Bart is a boy.”

“The man in the shop said he was!” Dexter protested loudly.

“Men do not know everything,” said Luna as she sailed into the alcove where Harry and Ginny were still clutching each other, Trevor blinking innocently on Harry’s foot. “Hello Harry, hello Ginny. I am sorry; Bart appears to have interrupted your attempts to join together.” Harry could feel Ginny heat up as she blushed and his jaw dropped.

“Luna! There are first years here!” Neville looked utterly mortified and refused to look at Harry and Ginny.

“Harry, you may wish to re-button Ginevra’s shirt,” Luna commented serenely as she bent swiftly to pick up the toad. Harry flushed as Ginny spun quickly to face the wall and button her shirt, her face flaming. Luna held the fat toad in her hands out to Dexter.

“That’s not Bart,” sighed Dexter. “That’s Trevor; we still don’t know where Bart is.”

“We’ll keep looking,” Neville reassured him.

“Will you help us find Bart, Mr — H-Harry?” Gilbert asked timidly.

“Sure,” Harry answered swiftly, desperate to divert attention from the fact that he and Ginny had been in the alcove at all. “We’re, um, checking out this corridor are we?” Dexter nodded enthusiastically.

Harry and Ginny joined the others searching for the toad, looking behind tapestries, under suits of armour and inside decorative urns. Neville, clutching Trevor, pulled Harry aside.

“Listen, really sorry about that,” he said. “I didn’t expect to find anyone there, not since Partington from Ravenclaw set up that system on the third floor.” Harry stared at him.

“Um … what?” he asked.

“You know,” Neville waved his hands carelessly, “There’s a bunch of rooms there, empty, so Partington — brilliant at Transfiguration, that kid — sets up a room for you … if you … you know … want some time.”

“Hermione found it last night,” Ginny interrupted, pulling her head out of an urn. “She made him dismantle it and Partington’s got detention for about a month.” Neville cursed.

“The first years, Neville,” Luna said mildly as Trevor took advantage of the moment and leapt out of Neville’s grasp. The toad bounded away swiftly and Dexter tore after him.

“Maybe he knows where Bart is!” Gilbert called as he ran after Dexter. Harry and the others ran after the younger boys until they all crashed into one another in the doorway of a small room at the end of the corridor.

“Oh, gross!” exclaimed Dexter as he backed slowly out of the room. Hamish and Othello wore similar looks of disgust. Harry peered into the room before making a face of his own.

“I told you Bart was a girl,” Luna said dreamily.

Harry sighed heavily. It was an absolute travesty that the toads at Hogwarts were getting more action than he was.

The Gryffindor Quidditch trials were as much of a farce as they had been in his sixth year. After Hermione ordered everyone from other Houses off the pitch, Harry began the tedious process of choosing two Chasers and a Keeper. Although he had to hold trials for all the positions, Harry had absolutely no intention of replacing either of the Beaters or Ginny as Chaser. Luckily Peaks and Cootes outflew and outplayed every other Beater applicant. The Chaser trial was more involved. The first three Keeper applicants were more hopeless than Ron had been even on his worst day and made every Chaser hopeful look brilliant.

“Listen, Ginny, how are we going to do this?” Harry flew over to her as she hovered a few feet from the hoops, tossing a Quaffle from one hand to the other. She looked at him for a moment.

“Get Ron out here,” she said. “Put him in front of the hoops. If they can get past him, they’ll do.”

“Ah, but can you?” Harry grinned. Ginny tucked the Quaffle under her arm and flew right up to Harry, leaning close.

“Oh, I’m going to make the team,” she said silkily, “captain.” Harry grinned and watched as she flew over to Ron.

It didn’t take Ron long to grab Peakes’s broom and soar out onto the pitch. With Ron in front of the hoops it was made immediately obvious who the better Chasers would be. Ginny outflew them all and Harry just sat and watched her fly. She was going to be a professional Quidditch player, he was sure of it; she flew like she was born on a broom.

Once Harry had selected Lucy Grant, a third year and Brent Robinson from fourth year to be the two other Chasers, Ron attempted to give the Keeper hopefuls tips that would enable them to save goals — but Harry was losing hope. The next three were no better than the first three and there was only one Keeper applicant left.

Kyle Thorpe was perhaps the biggest second year Harry had ever seen. Ron gestured with his arms and pointed to the hoops while talking animatedly to Kyle. The boy nodded and Harry could almost see him grit his teeth with determination as he flew to the hoops. Harry motioned to Lucy to throw Quaffles at him — not wanting to waste his time. If Kyle couldn’t block the weakest of their Chasers he wouldn’t put the poor kid through anymore humiliation. Harry rubbed his temples wearily. It was nearly lunch time and he was feeling the strain of building half a Quidditch team.

“You need to train a Seeker,” Ginny’s voice came from nearby. She’d flown over to watch the Keeper trial. Harry studied her face carefully, unsure exactly what she meant. She smiled. “You don’t want them to have this sort of trouble next year.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Harry frowned.

“I don’t mean you shouldn’t play,” Ginny clarified. “Just think how much easier it would have been if any of these clods had a clue how to Keep.”

There was a gasp from the crowd. Harry turned back to the hoops to see Kyle clinging precariously to his broomstick. Ron was hovering a short way off, muttering under his breath. It looked as if he was willing the young Keeper hopeful to do a good enough job to get on the team. Kyle straightened on his broomstick and nodded tersely to Lucy who was holding the Quaffle tentatively. She hurled the Quaffle to the left of where he was. Harry groaned inwardly; he couldn’t imagine the hefty young man able to get over and block it quickly enough.

Kyle surprised them all, flying deftly across and blocking the shot solidly. He continued, not letting a single one of Lucy’s shots through and Harry nodded to Brent and signalled to him to join Lucy. The two new Chasers flew together tossing the Quaffle back and forth and attempting to get a shot past the younger boy.

“She’s mad for him,” Ginny murmured.

“She is?” Harry asked. “For who?” Ginny rolled her eyes at him.

“It’s perfectly obvious that Lucy wants to be with Brent,” she insisted.

“If you say so,” muttered Harry. “Hey, home come Dean didn’t try out?”

“You’re asking me?” Ginny shrugged. “He’s your roommate.” Harry watched the two Chasers.

“Are you sure?” he asked sceptically. “She doesn’t look like she likes him.”

“Oh yeah? And how would you know what a thirteen year old girl looks like when she likes someone?” Ginny laughed.

“I remember,” Harry said quietly, looking at her solemnly.

“Oh.”

“So, do you think Kyle will do?” Harry turned away uncomfortably.

“Probably,” Ginny shrugged. “Do we have any other options?”

“You go,” Harry said suddenly, turning back to her. Ginny raised an eyebrow at him. Harry nodded towards the action in front of the hoops. “You go and see if you can get past him.”

“You just want to watch me fly,” Ginny smirked before she took off, intercepting a pass and hurling the Quaffle towards the hoops. Kyle was practically hanging upside down but he saved the goal with outspread fingertips, knocking the Quaffle to the side. Ron flew over to Harry.

“He’s brilliant!” Ron called. Harry nodded absently. Ron made a noise of disgust. “You’re too busy ogling my sister aren’t you?” Harry blushed but did not deny it.

Ginny’s hair streamed behind her and she leaned low on her broomstick as she swooped past the hoops. Her cheeks were flushed and her body lithe and supple as she twisted around the posts, trying to trick Kyle and get a shot in from below. Harry felt an ache for her in his chest. He wanted to touch her, to hold her, to memorise her. What he wouldn’t give for a few hours, uninterrupted and alone with Ginny Weasley.

“I should punch you for that look,” said Ron conversationally. Harry started guiltily. Ron laughed. “But I want to avoid a Bat Bogey, so I won’t.” Harry scowled at him.

“You think he’ll be any good as a Keeper?” he asked Ron pointedly, changing the subject. Ron nodded.

“He’s your best hope.”

“George clean you up okay last week?” Harry asked, watching Ginny feint and get the Quaffle past Kyle.

“Yeah,” replied Ron quietly. “I don’t know what got into us.”

“Firewhisky, by the look of Hermione,” Harry snorted.

“Was she … did she …”

“Threw up twice, once in the rose gardens and once on my shoes,” said Harry cheerfully. “Chatted up a suit of armour, felt me up and asked how I was in bed.” He fell about laughing at Ron’s incredulous look.

“She … she what?” he asked weakly.

“She said she was really lucky because she was with you,” Harry said soberly. “Repeatedly.”

“Hermione said that?”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded. “She was apparently very complimentary, but Ginny won’t tell me about what exactly because she believes it has scarred her for life and she cannot bear to relive it.” Ron went beet red.

“Reckon you’ve picked a decent enough team,” Ron said gruffly, “might be time for lunch.” Harry grinned and flew down onto the pitch and signalled the rest of the team to join him.

He congratulated the new team members and set up their first practice for the next Thursday before heading to the changing rooms. It had been a long morning. He stretched out on one of the benches in the locker room and gazed idly at the practice Snitch still zooming around the room. Harry decided to wait for Ginny to come out of the girls changing area and started to remove his protective Quidditch gear rather lazily.

He had not gotten very far when he caught Ginny’s distinctive scent. He left his right arm guard hanging from his forearm and twisted so that he could see her. She smiled at him.

“Exhausted, are we?”

“I need something to sustain me,” Harry pouted. “I may not be able to make it off this bench without it.”

“Well now, I shall have to see what I can do about that,” Ginny said softly. She walked slowly up to him and Harry just watched, waited until she was close enough to touch and then he reached out a hand and pulled her down to him. She giggled as she sprawled on top of him on the narrow bench.

“Keen,” she noted. Harry said nothing, choosing instead to kiss her.

The changing rooms were deserted. Coote and Peakes had left ages ago and the new team members had not come back there at all, instead going back to their dormitories to change and it was now lunch time in the castle. For the first time in a long time Harry was alone with Ginny, and likely would be for some time. He buried his hands in her hair and pulled her close.

“Funny,” Ginny murmured as Harry ran his hands down her back and kissed his way down her neck, “I thought we weren’t going to do it here …” Harry froze.

“Um …”

“But,” Ginny looked him in the eye, “here we are … alone … all afternoon …”

“And you … you …” Harry stumbled over his words and then pulled her closer and gave in.

She smelled heavenly and she felt divine. Dimly, as he kissed her, Harry felt Ginny finish removing his remaining Quidditch protection and stroke his arms softly. He slid his own hands up her arms and lost himself in her touch, her kiss. Her fingers tangled in his hair and his hands trailed down her back. He felt small hands slide under his shirt and he stopped for a moment, sitting up and removing his shirt so that he could feel her on his skin.

“You should get a tattoo,” Ginny said in his ear, her hands splayed across his chest. “a Horntail.”

“Okay,” Harry replied. If she wanted it he would do it, it was that simple. He couldn’t resist her, so when she pressed herself against him he slid his own hands under her shirt, searching for the soft curves he knew were there.

He no longer cared that they were in the Quidditch changing rooms. He had wanted her all week and now he had her and she didn’t want him to let her go. It was better than chocolate, better than Firewhisky. He idly wondered why Ron and Hermione got drunk for her birthday when they could have had something so much better instead. Then he shuddered at that image and burying his hands in Ginny’s hair he pulled her to him with a growl before sinking to the ground taking her with him. He could feel Ginny’s leg hooked over his own, her hands on his chest, his shoulders, his belt …

“Oi!” Harry froze. It was not a good sign that he could hear Ron; not at all. He dropped his forehead to Ginny’s shoulder, breathing heavily.

“Ron,” Ginny said dully, not moving her head, “how lovely to see you.”

“Yeah, well, wish I could say the same,” Ron said idly. “Reckon I’ve seen more of you than I care to though.” He sounded amused. Harry looked up to see Ron leaning on the door frame; his arms crossed and a smirk on his face.

Ginny sighed and pushed Harry off her before straightening her shirt and standing up. She kissed Harry softly before throwing her brother a filthy look.

“You’re a git,” she said with venom. “You know that?”

“Hey, don’t blame me,” Ron laughed. “You were the ones going at it in a public place.” Harry sat staring at the wall. How could he look Ron in the eye after that?

“We were perfectly alone,” Ginny hissed, “for the first time in ages. Well … I guess you ruined that.” Harry heard her footsteps stomp away. He turned to see her paused at the doorway.

“Ginny-”

“I’ll see you later, Harry,” she sighed. “I’ve got some work to do anyway.”

“Ginny-”

“Just … tonight’s mine, yeah?” she asked. “I’ll see you at dinner.” She left. Harry glared at Ron.

“Thanks, mate,” he snapped, “thanks a lot.” Ron shrugged.

“I didn’t know you two were …” Ron trailed off, waving his arms hopelessly.

“What? Didn’t know we were what?” Harry demanded snatching up his shirt and pulling it on furiously. Ron blushed heavily.

“Erm … that um, far , er well that you had …”

“We haven’t,” Harry ground out. “We’re not.”

“Looked like it to me,” Ron smirked at him. Harry shook his head.

“You’re supposed to tear me limb from limb,” he muttered. “I feel like you’re setting me up.” Harry stowed his Quidditch gear in his locker, straightened up the broom cupboard in the corner and picked up the Quaffle. He turned around to find Ron sitting on the bench, watching him.

“I’m not going to do anything,” Ron said. “She loves you and you love her. Only an idiot would get in the way of that. I just didn’t want to watch it.”

“You could have turned around and walked away,” Harry shouted.

“No way!” Ron exclaimed. “And leave myself with that image in my head? Letting it play out in there until we got to … the climax of the event?” Harry threw the Quaffle at Ron’s head.

“You … just …” Harry struggled to find the words. “You should not mention me and Ginny and climax in the same sentence, ever.”

“Believe me, I don’t want to,” Ron held up his arms in mock surrender. “It’s why I couldn’t let things reach their … peak.” Harry groaned and shook his head.

“Well … thanks a lot,” Harry grumbled as he sank down onto the bench next to Ron. “What were you doing, skulking around the changing rooms anyway?”

“I was coming to see if you wanted to go see Hagrid with Hermione and me,” Ron said. “Go have afternoon tea … like old times.”

“Yeah, all right,” Harry sighed. “I think you ruined the moment well enough, I may as well.”

“Do me a favour, Harry,” Ron said as they let the door swing shut behind them, “never let me see you two like that again.”

“Traumatised are you?”

“For life,” Ron shuddered.

“You should thank your lucky stars you didn’t run into Malfoy,” Harry responded.

“Had that pleasure, have you?” Ron smirked.

“The Astronomy Tower needs a tie on the door handle,” Harry grumbled as Ron burst out laughing.

“Maybe you should get one for the Quidditch changing rooms.”

“Thought had crossed my mind,” Harry grinned at Ron. “Race you to Hagrid’s?” He took off before Ron could answer.

“How old are you, Potter,” Ron called, “eighteen or eight?” Harry just laughed and kept running.

He found Hermione waiting outside Hagrid’s hut. She was staring absently at the pumpkin patch.

“Hermione!” called Harry as he approached. She didn’t respond. Harry slowed down and walked up to her, he could hear Ron thumping after him and he reached out and touched Hermione on the arm and she jumped.

“Hello, Harry,” Hermione said vaguely. Her eyes flicked to Ron. “I think something’s up with Hagrid.” Ron’s brow furrowed and Harry raised an eyebrow at her.

“Like what?” Ron asked, leaning against one of the huge pumpkins and slapping it. “Hallowe’en pumpkins look good this year.”

“He won’t let me in,” Hermione stared at the door of the hut, her brows drawn together. “He’s hiding something.”

“When is he not?” Harry asked, leaning against the same huge pumpkin as Ron.

“Little dragon or big spider?” Ron asked contemplatively.

“No, he’s done that before,” mused Hermione. With a start Harry realised she was serious. “What dangerous creature hasn’t he been involved with lately?”

“Don’t be daft, Hermione,” Ron said, laughing. “Maybe … he’s got a lady friend and that’s why he won’t let us in.”

“Have you met Hagrid, Ron?” Hermione asked pointedly.

“He could still have a woman,” Ron protested. He jerked a thumb at Harry. “If this scrawny git can get himself a bird, Hagrid can.”

“Hey!”

“Did you just use the term ‘bird’, Ron?”

“We-ell …”

“And for your information, Ron Weasley,” Hermione glared at him, “Harry happens to be wizarding Britain’s most eligible bachelor. He’s hardly a scrawny git.”

“You fancy him too, don’t you?” Ron asked her morosely.

“No!”

“Ron-”

“I wouldn’t blame you if you did-”

“Merlin’s balls!” exclaimed Harry exasperatedly. “You’re a right git, you know that?”

“What has gotten into you?” Hermione asked, glaring at Ron.

“He said you felt him up,” Ron hissed. Hermione raised an eyebrow at Harry who groaned.

“You are not telling me you have been worrying about that,” he said, turning to Ron. “She was drunk!”

“Thanks, Harry, tell the world,” Hermione said dryly.

“Well, you said it!” Ron protested, stabbing a finger at Harry. “You said she asked how you were in bed!”

“I-I … what?” Hermione looked horrified.

“Relax,” Harry held his hands up in surrender before they both lynched him. “She wanted to know why my shirt was undone-”

“Why was it?” Ron interrupted.

“Do you remember not five minutes ago?” Harry glared at him. “It was like that. So anyway she wasn’t really feeling me up, she was looking for my tattoo, because she was drunk.”

“You haven’t got a tattoo,” Ron commented sullenly.

“I know!” Harry exclaimed. He looked around at his best friends. Ron was staring intently into the Forbidden Forest and Hermione was studying the ground.

“Okay, right … good,” Harry muttered. “Let’s go see Hagrid.”

“Wait a minute,” Hermione spoke softly, as if it took her great effort. “In what context would I even ask how you were … in bed?” Harry burst out laughing.

“You were asking Ginny!” he snorted.

“Why did you not tell me any of this?” Hermione demanded. Harry shrugged. Ron glowered at Harry sullenly.

“Honestly Ron, she was just tipsy,” Harry clapped a hand on Ron’s shoulder. “You rated higher than Krum.” Ron brightened visibly.

“Yeah?”

“Oh honestly,” Hermione grumbled, stomping to Hagrid’s door. She raised a fist to bang on it, calling out to Hagrid as she did so.

The effect was instantaneous. Hagrid’s big, shaggy head appeared and he was wearing a scowl.

“What d’ye think ye’re doin’?” he demanded gruffly.

“We came to tea,” Hermione said primly.

“Well, not today,” Hagrid said and attempted to close the door.

“What are you hiding?” Hermione demanded, casting a spell Harry had never seen before. Hagrid was unable to close the door.

“Nothing, nothing,” said Hagrid. He was starting to sound desperate. “Hermione, you’ve got to let me close the door!”

“Why? What have you got in there?” queried Ron. “Is it something that’ll bite our heads off?”

Hagrid turned white.

“No, not at all,” he protested. “It’s nuthin’. Nuthin’ at all.” The huge man attempted to look casual as he leaned uneasily against the door jamb.

“Well, it can’t be worse than a baby dragon,” muttered Hermione. “Hagrid, this is us. We won’t tell. You know we won’t.”

“Ye’ve a knack fer getting’ inter trouble, ye three,” Hagrid muttered mutinously. “I’ll not be responsible, no I won’t.”

“So you do have something in there, then?” Harry took a step towards the hut. Hagrid jumped and gripped the door, glancing nervously back inside.

“No, no, nuthin in here… Why don’t you jus’ run along now?”

“Hagrid… have you been collecting things from blokes down the pub?” asked Ron.

“I didn’t collect anythin’ wrong!” Hagrid exclaimed. Harry, Ron and Hermione shared a look.

“Hagrid, have you got a creature in there?” Hermione asked patiently. Hagrid shook his head hesitantly. Hermione crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow at him.

“It’s nuthin’ fer you lot ter be worryin’ about,” Hagrid said with an attempt at finality. Harry attempted to peer inside. He caught a glimpse of a rather large cage with something hairy inside it before Hagrid stepped in front of it.

“I have a very bad feeling about this,” muttered Ron warily. “This sort of thing usually ends in tears.”

“There’s nothing regulated or illegal goin’ on Ron,” Hagrid insisted.

“Good, you can let us in then.” Hermione darted under Hagrid’s arm into the hut.

“No! Hermione!” Hagrid shouted. Harry heard Hermione squawk before going silent and Ron charged past both of them before Harry had even breathed. Harry followed Ron as fast as he could and the three of them stood in Hagrid’s doorway staring at a cage in the middle of the hut.

“What is that thing?” Hermione breathed.

“No way,” Ron muttered, staring in awe.

The thing inside the cage had five fat legs and looked like a short, hairy starfish. It had a vicious looking mouth full of sharp teeth but was only about the size of Hagrid’s palm.

“Hagrid,” Harry said slowly, staring at the thing inside the cage. “Where’d you get a Quintaped?” Hermione turned to look at him in surprise.

“You know what that is?” she asked him. “How?”

“I can read, Hermione. I did the essay from Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, same as you,” Harry said haughtily. Ron sniggered. The Quintaped suddenly lunged forward; the bars on the crudely constructed wooden cage rattled and threatened to give way.

“You ‘ave to get out of ‘ere,” Hagrid said desperately. “He can smell yer.”

“You can’t keep that here!” Ron said. “You have got to get rid of it!”

“But he’s just a baby!”

“How can you possibly know?” Hermione asked, edging away from the cage.

“Watched him hatch, I did,” said Hagrid proudly.

“But where did you get a Quintaped?” asked Harry. “I mean, no one can get to them!”

“Well I didn’t know it were a Qunitaped when I bought th’ egg,” Hagrid said reasonably. “But ‘e said it were such a great bargain and ‘e were right too. You don’t just get a Quintaped for four Galleons and five sickles!”

“You don’t just get a Quintaped!” Ron cried as the creature made another run at the bars of the cage. He pulled Hermione behind him and faced the hairy beast nervously.

“You can’t keep it at school, Hagrid,” Harry said. Hagrid looked so downcast that Hermione seemed to take pity on him. She withdrew her wand and making a few complicated wand movements and muttering under her breath, transformed the rickety, wooden box into a steel cage.

“Thanks, Hermione,” Hagrid beamed and pulled her into a hug.

“No problem, Hagrid,” Hermione replied when she got her breath back. “But if I see one hint of that thing anywhere other than in this hut … and only until he’s grown. Then you have to take him back!” Hermione shuddered.

“Stay fer tea,” Hagrid said, throwing the door wide open.

“Erm … no thanks, I think we need to be getting back now …” said Ron, eyeing the Quintaped warily.

“Suit yerself,” Hagrid called cheerily as the three of them backed out of the door. “We’ll have tea next time. Monty’ll like that!” Harry waved at Hagrid and beat a hasty retreat with Ron and Hermione. They got to the door of the castle before Ron spoke.

“Monty?” he said incredulously. “He called that monster Monty?”

“Monty the Monster,” mused Hermione, pushing open the great oak doors. “It’s got a certain charm …”

“How does anyone get a Quintaped?” asked Harry. “Isn’t that island unplottable?”

“Question of the century, isn’t it?” Ron said. “But this is Hagrid.” Harry just grunted and the three of them made their way upstairs and into the common room where a rather large shouting match was in progress. Kyle Thorpe was in the middle of the room nose to nose with a massive fourth year who strongly resembled Cormac McClaggen.

“- she obviously gets special treatment!” the fourth year was yelling.

“No one got special treatment, Brogan McClaggen,” Kyle shouted back. “You just can’t save a goal to save your ruddy life!”

“Oh and you can?”

“Course he can! He made Keeper, didn’t he?” Dexter piped up from his perch on the back of one of the common room chairs.

“I should have made Keeper!” Brogan snarled his fists clenched. He turned on Dexter who eyed him carefully before climbing down into the chair he was perched on. He stepped on Hamish in the process, who punched him in the leg.

“You played rubbish and you know it!” threw in one of the spectators.

“I did not!” Brogan swung around to the hapless student. “Potter is just a … a …”

“A what?” sneered Dennis Creevey.

“He’s prejudiced!”

“Oh my, you really are a deluded little toerag, aren’t you?” Seamus interjected at that point. He stood up and strode towards Brogan. The fact that the fourth year was bigger than Seamus did nothing to deter the older boy.

“Now look here,” Brogan protested. “You can’t go calling me that! I’m going to find a Prefect and have him do something about your uncouth behaviour.”

“Oh look, he’s a tattle-tale too,” Seamus said casually.

“Five points from Gryffindor for being a tattle-tale,” Neville said lazily from his seat in front of the fireplace where he was playing Monopoly with Dean. The common room let out a collective groan.

“You can’t do that!” exclaimed Brogan, going red in the face.

“Actually,” said Neville, unwinding himself slowly and standing up, “I think you’ll find I can. You see, I, unlike you, am a Prefect.”

“Probably in Potter’s pocket too then,” muttered Brogan. “Just like that little bint he calls his girlfriend.”

Ron didn’t even try to hold Harry back but Neville got there before him.

“Don’t you dare,” Neville said in a low, ominous voice. “Never, ever insult Ginny Weasley.”

“You’re not in charge anymore, Longbottom,” sneered Brogan. “You don’t need to defend your piece of fluff any more.”

Brogan found his neck pressed against the wrong end of Neville’s wand.

“This has got nothing to do with who’s in charge,” said Neville quietly. “It’s pretty much all about you being a bullying, arrogant, idiotic imitation of a mountain troll.”

“I’m not scared of you,” Brogan scoffed.

“You should be,” Neville snarled. “Now apologise.”

“Weasley’s not even here,” Brogan smirked.

“I think Harry would like to hear it,” Neville said menacingly. Harry remained frozen, halfway across the room where he’d stopped on his way to beat Brogan to a bloody pulp. The whole common room turned to look at him. Neville continued. “Now Kyle is on the Quidditch team and you are not. Are you ready to deal with that without mocking the man who would have died to save your sorry arse and completely slagging off his girl?”

“That’s not got anything to do with Quidditch,” Brogan said, attempting to show a modicum of bravado.

“You idiot,” Dean called from his seat by the fire. “Harry is the youngest Quidditch player in a century and has played more games than anyone else in this castle!”

“I’m not some Harry Potter groupie,” declared Brogan. “Just ‘cause you all think he’s so great. It can’t be all that hard to kill a dark wizard.”

“Merlin’s balls,” exclaimed Seamus. “Draco Malfoy is friendlier than you!”

“Maybe he’s a closet Slytherin,” piped up Dennis Creevey.

“Potter didn’t even kill the bastard properly the first time and we had to go through it all again, years later,” Brogan said, looking quite crazed. He sneered at Harry who just stood there, his mind a total blank.

“Oi!” yelled Ron suddenly. “Have you completely lost your grip on reality?” He strode towards Brogan McClaggen and grabbed his collar with one large hand, hauling him forward and dragging his neck ruthlessly along the end of Neville’s wand.

“Weasley are you mad?” Brogan’s brave façade was cracking.

“Oh, absolutely,” Ron snarled. “You insulted my sister and just trashed my best mate. You bet I’m mad.”

“So, Brogan, got anything else to say?” Neville asked.

“Yeah, you’re all completely bonkers!”

“Oh, you misunderstood Neville here,” said Seamus, flicking his wand almost casually. “We wondered if you had anything meaningful to say.” Brogan moved his mouth frantically but no sound came out.

“Nice non-verbal,” Ron complimented, still holding Brogan hostage.

“Thanks,” grinned Seamus.

“I think …” Neville squinted dramatically at Brogan. “I think he’s trying to tell us we can’t do this to him.”

“Well, he might be right …” Hermione said thoughtfully. Brogan turned to her as far as he could in Ron’s grip, gesturing frantically, gratefully.

“What? Hermione-”

“He might hurt himself,” Hermione interrupted. She flicked her wand at Brogan. “Petrificus Totalis.” Then she levitated him out of Ron’s grasp and to the portrait hole. “You’ll be much safer this way while we go and see Mr Filch. He’s not had a lot of people to serve detention lately. I’m sure he’ll be very happy to see you.”

Harry heard a muffled thump and Hermione muttering insincere apologies as she clambered through the portrait hole after Brogan’s floating body. Ron stared around the common room at the awed faces of the rest of Gryffindor House.

“Show’s over,” he said briskly reaching out to grab Harry by the arm and propel him to the fireplace. “Go back to your knitting.” Harry sank into a chair. He still hadn’t said anything and stared into the flames. The rest of the common room gradually returned to normal, a buzz of conversation muffling the strains of the wireless in the corner.

“That kid spent the last year in a cushy safe-house in France,” Seamus said as he threw himself on the hearth rug. Neville sat down again and picked up the die on the Monopoly board.

“Hasn’t got a clue,” murmured Dean.

“Maybe he’s got a point,” muttered Harry.

“Yeah, on his head,” Ron rolled his eyes.

“It isn’t all that hard to kill a dark wizard,” Harry said softly. “And it is my fault Voldemort came back and-”

“You are as thick as McClaggen,” said Ron, throwing a cushion in Harry’s direction.

“But-”

“I don’t know about you, but last year was pretty hard to me,” Ron sat up straight and glared at him. “Most of these kids know that, he’s just one idiot.”

“Most of these kids weren’t even here last year,” Seamus said, rummaging in his bag and pulling out a sheaf of parchment. “Everyone’s lost a family member. Too many of ‘em have lost parents. There’re no kids in Slytherin who’re missing parents. They know where they are even if they happen to be in Azkaban or in the ground.”

“Seamus!” remonstrated Neville. Seamus ignored him and unfurled his parchment.

“There’s a heap of Ravenclaws who’re missing a parent, mostly their dads,” he said softly, scanning the parchment.

“Lots of Ministry workers,” commented Dean. “We might be able to find them if we can figure out where all those Ministry workers went into hiding. The Hufflepuffs ... lots of their homes got attacked. It’s like he went after groups systematically or something. This one kid told me he got sent away to his aunt’s house in the country and while he was gone his mum and dad nearly got crushed in their home. They’re okay though. Parents turned up on the doorstep one day and they’ve stayed with the aunt ever since. She was glad because her husband never came home from work one day.”

“Not always missing though,” Seamus said thoughtfully, tapping the parchment. “There’s a first year Ravenclaw here … his parents got a one way ticket to St Mungo’s permanent care ward after Death Eaters turned up in the dead of night.”

“What … where’s he living now?” Neville’s knuckles were white as he gripped the arms of the chair he was sitting in. Seamus scanned his parchment.

“Looks like his … aunt, dad’s sister,” he replied. “Only magical relative he has left.”

The litany of death and destruction hung over Harry like a heavy blanket. He’d been shielded, he realised. Kingsley and Molly and Arthur must have been shielding him from the real aftermath. Harry thought he might vomit. He clenched his fists and stared resolutely into the flames in the fireplace. He could almost see people in the flames screaming and trying to claw their way out as Death Eaters burned their homes.

“Most of Gryffindor went into hiding, I reckon,” Dean said. “Whole families left the country until June but some of ‘em just don’t know anymore. I found three first years and one second year who ended up in the Muggle foster system.”

“How’d they end up with Muggles?” asked Ron, leaning forward.

“Mum and dad never came home,” Dean shrugged. “One of the firsties is Muggleborn. Got her Hogwarts letter but next thing her house got blown up. She was at a sleepover party but ended up in the Muggle system and the Ministry must have given up looking for her.”

“Too much red tape for the dimwit Death Eaters, I suppose.” Hermione’s voice came from behind Harry. She slid onto Ron’s lap.

“So she missed last year entirely,” Dean continued. “McGonagall put her in first year since she was Muggleborn and utterly overwhelmed. I don’t know exactly what happened with the others, but they were all in a safe house together. I think they got attacked and their parents were … killed and the Muggle authorities got there first.”

“Flitwick went and found them all this summer,” Seamus said quietly. “They don’t even know where they are going next summer. They couldn’t tell the foster parents about magic. He and some Ministry officials did some memory charms and removed them from the Muggle records but … there’s nowhere for them to go in the wizarding world either.”

“So they’ve lost their families and their homes?” asked Hermione softly. Dean nodded.

“It’s pretty sorry state of affairs when you’ve got homeless kiddies and everyone’s too busy running around trying to fix everything else to care,” Dean said gruffly.

“Do they think no one cares?” Harry asked softly, his voice scratchy.

“I think mostly they’re grateful to be here, you know?” Dean said. “I don’t think they’ve even thought ahead to the holidays.”

“Do they have any wizarding orphanages or … foster things?” Ron tilted his head to the side. “What’s a foster anyway?”

“It’s when they place children with approved families in the event they lose their own,” Hermione said, picking at a thread on her robes.

“They must have a procedure for it,” Dean said. He looked at Hermione. “Don’t they?” Hermione shrugged and looked sideways at Harry briefly before averting her eyes.

“I don’t know,” muttered Harry venomously. “And you’d think I would, wouldn’t you?”

“I think most kids who um, need a home … erm, end up with … um, family,” said Neville hesitantly after a pause. “It’s not official, it just sort of … happens.”

“So what … they’re just going to leave it up to some arbitrary wizard to decide on a whim?” asked Harry bitterly. “They’re not stray kittens! You can’t just shove ‘em on someone’s doorstep!”

He felt like he was watching himself from a far-off distance. He had no idea where his bitterness was coming from. Harry didn’t hate Dumbledore for what he’d felt forced to do and no longer blamed the old man, if he ever had. He couldn’t really remember, everything felt so confused; so fuzzy.

“Are you all right, Harry?” Hermione said softly, her concerned face peering at him. Harry nodded, trying to focus on what Seamus had been saying.

“- cos Everard Fingleman reckons his old man sent him a tin with a lock of hair in,” Seamus shook his head. “He thinks it came from Egypt, the tin had these markings on them and his mum says they are Egyptian. I dunno how anyone would have gotten there without using Apparition but that’s what he reckons.”

“You can get there on a plane,” Hermione rolled her eyes.

“So he reckons this is a sign from his dad that he made it to Egypt then?” Dean asked. Seamus shrugged.

“We don’t have any other clues about where to start looking,” Ron said idly tracing patterns on Hermione’s thigh.

“Well we’ve got to do something,” Seamus said restlessly. “A couple of the younger Ravenclaws said the goblins were threatening to take back their homes because of non payment with their dads gone and mums still looking after little ones at home. A couple of them have already had to move house and there’s not a lot of undamaged wizarding real estate around at the moment. One kid reckons they’ll have to move into a Muggle squash or something.” Seamus looked very distressed.

“I reckon you might mean ‘flat’, mate,” said Dean, choking back laughter. “It’s like having a bunch of houses sort of all joined together and … stacked up.”

“Sounds squashed,” Seamus argued. Dean only nodded.

“Well, where would these homeless kids go then?” Ron said with a shudder. “The ones the Muggles got hold of? First they lose their family and then, ‘cause the Death Eater brigade has damaged so many wizarding houses, they just get shut up in some Muggle squash-box with festering parents?”

“A flat’s not so bad, Ron,” Hermione said. She was stroking his hair affectionately, “and it’s foster parents.”

“Well I wouldn’t like to live in some Muggle neighbourhood after all year at school,” Ron grumbled. “Especially not in some squashy, box place.”

“That all look the same,” Dean added. Harry could only wholeheartedly agree.

“I mean, I’d rather live in a cave if it was in the wizarding world and had proper wizarding plumbing and things,” Ron argued stubbornly. “I’ve seen ekeltric light switches and I wouldn’t want to live in a house with them lurking on my walls.” Dean tried unsuccessfully to smother his snort of laughter. Ron glared at him.

“Well, Ron,” said Neville with a resigned air, “if you have a wizarding house just lying around empty, feel free to hand it over and the problem’s solved.” Harry stared at Neville.

“Yeah, I’m rolling in houses,” Ron drawled. “I got my estate out west and a little cottage in the country and in the winter I go and spend time in my London townhouse.” Neville laughed and began packing away the Monopoly set.

Harry sat up straight. He had an empty wizarding house in London. It might be as dank as a cave now, but they’d seen what Kreacher could do when he put his mind to it. They could fix up Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. It had plenty of space for several children. All he needed to do was find someone to look after them. He had to talk to Ginny. He didn’t want to just give away his house without talking to her, even though he knew she would agree. It just didn’t feel right to make that decision without her. He stood up suddenly.

“You got an empty house lying about, mate?” asked Dean with a grin.

“Yeah I do,” Harry said hurriedly. “Hey listen, Neville, where is Ginny?” Neville suddenly flushed a deep crimson colour.

“Well, she was sort of helping me and … erm …” Neville stumbled over his words before forcing them out in a rush. “I accidentally sprayed her with Stinksap when we moved the Mimbulous Mimbletonia and when I tried Scourgify I kinda made it worse and turned all the Stinksap brown.” Ron chuckled.

“Smelt worse, too,” Dean added helpfully.

“She went to the Prefect’s bathroom to wash it off properly,” Neville said glowering at Dean.

“Oh,” said Harry. “Well … I’ll just go wait for her then.” He started towards the entrance of the common room.

“No peeking!” Ron called out after him. Harry gave him a two-fingered salute as he clambered out of the portrait hole.

Harry ambled down to the Prefect’s Bathroom on the fifth floor. He contemplated ducking into an empty classroom to avoid Peeves who was throwing water bombs on the sixth floor, but Peeves looked up after cackling and drenching a pair of snogging Ravenclaws and simply waved at Harry before gliding through the ceiling. Harry shook his head and continued down to the Prefect’s Bathroom.

“Lemon Zest,” Harry muttered. The door remained closed. Someone must have changed the password. He thumped on the door. “Ginny? It’s me, Harry, are you decent?” His only answer was a squelching sound and he pushed experimentally on the door.

“Sorry, I had it sealed,” Ginny called out as he cautiously stuck his head in. He looked around tentatively and slammed his eyes shut.

Ginny Weasley was standing on the edge of a very bubbly bath, a white towel barely covering her and water dripping from her hair as she wrung it out.

“I thought … I asked … I … bugger,” Harry spluttered as he turned around. Ginny giggled. He could hear her splashing towards him, her bare feet making little slapping sounds on the watery tiles. He drew in a ragged breath as she stood close enough so that he could feel her warmth.

In fact, it was overall too warm in this bathroom and … very steamy. His glasses had fogged up and he took them off, attempting to clear them. He realised that without his glasses on he couldn’t see and therefore he wouldn’t be able to see what Ginny was, or rather, wasn’t wearing. He chanced a glance at her. It was not a very sound plan. She was so close he could see every freckle on her face and the way the water dripped over her shoulders and rolled down into the top of her towel. He shoved his glasses hastily back on and then groaned.

Sweet Merlin, she was trying to kill him.

“Ginny …”

“Harry …”

Her breath on his neck was very intoxicating and the way she pressed against him was nothing short of amazing. She smelt heavenly and she was still a little bit pink from her warm bath. She pressed a soft kiss to the base of his throat and slid her arms around his neck.

“I asked … I thought you were decent,” Harry breathed.

“Oh, I’m feeling very decent,” Ginny giggled. She shifted slightly and it was then Harry realised that the only thing holding up her towel was him. He grabbed hold of her waist to pin the towel in place but then she reached up to kiss him and he pulled her closer.

It was the worst thing in the world, it was the best thing in the world and Harry gave in, running his hands over her, feeling her skin and letting his body take over. He vaguely wondered what Ron would say and decided he didn’t care. Just as he got up the nerve to venture under the towel a muffled gasp from behind got his attention. Harry whirled around and Ginny squeaked and grabbed at the towel as it fell slightly.

“Ooooh Harry,” Moaning Myrtle was sitting on the edge of the bath, her ghostly feet in the water. She had a sly grin on her face and was looking at him through her eyelashes. She lowered her voice and giggled. “Are you going do it? Here? You wouldn’t be the first you know. I watched Sirius Black and Alex Parker do it right over there. They managed to break three of the taps.” She pointed vaguely to the other side of the huge bathtub. Harry swallowed.

“Myrtle,” was all he said. The ghost giggled and Harry heard Ginny gathering her clothes.

This was definitely not his day.