A Cannon's Harpy

II

Harry kept walking towards Ginny. His build so familiar despite her having only seen him so close once. Flying goggles, pushed up above his eyes, made his hair stick up wildly, but maybe that was just how his hair always behaved. Well used and abused padding covered his body.

She blinked in further surprise, none of the usual garish orange could be seen anywhere. Eventually he came to halt before them. His face betraying nothing, but his green eyes never left Ginny. They were narrowed slightly, not in anger or resentment, rather they were considering.

Gwenog coughed to clear her throat from laughing. "Ginny I'd like you to meet your private coach for the next month, Harry Potter."

Ginny held out her hand tentatively and Harry took it. The touch felt warm and hard. She could feel the familiar calluses, similar on her own fingers and palms; the result of Quidditch being a passion. Still, her hands felt soft against his.

"A pleasure to meet you, Mr Potter." Harry's mouth quirked slightly in seeming amusement.

Gwenog interrupted before he could speak. "Harry, this is our new talent, Ginny Weasley."

"Nice to meet you, Miss Weasley," he said and finally let go of her hand. His brief smile waned. "And please, call me Harry."

"Then I insist on being called Ginny," she replied with more confidence than the butterflies in her stomach would have indicated.

He grinned slightly again, but made no reply. "I think I'll leave the two of you to get to know each other." Gwenog took a single step then stopped. "I hope you remember your contract, Ginny. You may speak to no one about these sessions. Not even family. Do I make myself clear?"

"Of course, Gwenog." Ginny cringed at using her coaches' first name before Harry.

The woman smiled as if knowing why Ginny felt distressed. "Good." Then with a single motion of her wand the woman vanished with a feint pop.

Ginny's nerves returned fall force. She stood alone in the middle of the Harpies Quidditch pitch, which was bad enough on its own, with none other than the mystical Harry Potter standing behind her. He was an enigma to the wizarding world. And yet she had seen something of him no reporter ever had. She'd seen him with tears in his eyes.

She slowly pivoted round to face him. Her intake of breath had to have been audible. This close she found him even more attractive than on any of his posters. His dishevelled appearance only added to the charm. His hand gripped the broom beside him and his expression was once again contemplative as he studied her. It made her wonder why he'd retired so quickly at the end of last season. Nothing seemed wrong with him. He could walk, and if his broom and padding were any indication then he could still fly.

"So what do you have planned for me today, H… Harry," she managed with a wince. She really needed to get over the use of first names.

His oddly sad green eyes turned away. "Today?" He talked more to himself. "I just want us to fly," he added softly.

He dug into his pocket and removed a Golden Snitch. Without looking at her, he let go and the little winged ball fluttered away. "Ready for a few games between Seekers?" He spoke the words with longing. It was the first time she actually saw him give a genuine smile. It wasn't fake like the one on his poster or as faint as the few he gave earlier. This was honest, even if it didn't fully reach his eyes.