A Cannon's Harpy

IV

Ginny stood on the pitch waiting for Harry to follow her down after the last drill of the day. It was Friday and the official end to a long week. She was knackered and didn't know if she would ever be able to sit on a broom again. Even her palms were sore as they clutched the broom beside her.

"I think you should take it easy this weekend, Ginny," Harry said as soon as he landed. He still wore shorts and a Harpies shirt as they had not flown in anger since the first day. Instead he had drilled something new into her each day. Dives, rolls, twists, spirals and a hoard of other moves. She of course could do them all, but he had helped refine her technique.

Ginny's head snapped up towards him and out of her reverie of pain. "Oh, I was actually looking forward to see… flying tomorrow." The blush was at least partially hidden by cheeks already red from flying.

The heat rose when Harry tried to hide a smile. "Um... perhaps we could just, you know, talk then." Harry offered. He did not meet her eyes. "I mean," he coughed slightly. "There is so much more to the game that doesn't need to be discussed while sitting on a broom. And you need to get a few things."

"That would be great," she said quickly. Perhaps a bit too eagerly she thought, but then again this was all new. "Should I meet you here?" she asked.

"Sure," he replied. "And, Ginny, leave the Harpies stuff at home."

"Right, Gwenog will kill me if I walked around in kit before the press release."

"Kill is a strong word." He grinned. "But she might skin you alive."

"Prat!" To her own surprise she punched his shoulder playfully.

The action elicited a broad smile and a laugh. "She's got spirit."

"Of course, Potter." Her eyes narrowed. "Never underestimate me."

He held up his hands in playful defensiveness. "Wouldn't dream of it."

The next morning could not come soon enough. She was going to spend a whole day, a good part of it at least, alone with Harry Potter. Of course she'd been alone with him each day for the past week, but the time had been spent on the back of a broom flying drills. This promised to be something more.

"Stop this," she mumbled to herself. "He's your coach. You're just going to talk. There's nothing."

"You alright, Ginny?" her mother asked.

Ginny froze, wondering how much her mother had heard. "Just thinking about training, mum." She let out a nervous chuckle. "So much to think about."

"Of course, dear." Mrs Weasley turned to leave, her arms full of laundry. "Just let me know if you need to talk."

Ginny muttered some more to herself while walking out the house, this time being careful to keep her words silent. Outside, she Apparated to the Harpies stadium.

The morning air bit at her and for once she was glad that she did not have to fly. Her backside had been sore the whole week, but the pain had been pushed aside amidst her concentration and determination to not let Harry down. It hit her now. While rubbing her back softly, her eyes scanned the pitch for Harry, not really expecting to find him. To her surprise she found him sitting alone in the grandstand. Wondering why he was up there by himself, she made her way towards him.