A Cannon's Harpy

VIII

"We have four weeks before the season starts," Gwenog was really getting into her speech. Her eyes, lingering slightly longer on Ginny, drifted over all the players. "Harry Potter is not playing this year. But that only means the teams will be training harder and be even more eager to win. Like us they can already feel the cool touch of the trophy." Her voice grew distant as she remembered holding it. "Each game will be tough. Are you girls tough enough!"

"Yes!" They all shouted in unison. Ginny felt her own throat burn from the numerous times she'd already shouted in reply.

"Well you're not tough enough girls!" The woman glared at each in turn. Her eyes were fire. Ginny did not glance away, instead she tried hard to see the motherly side of her coach. It was not to be seen. "I'm going to push you harder than you've ever been pushed. This season you'll be fitter, stronger and sharper in the air. I'm not leaving anything to chance this year. Are you girls ready to work hard? Are you ready to get those backsides into shape?" She shouted loudly, her face red with emotion.

"Yes!" all of them shouted together again.

Gwenog, like the predator she was, dropped her voice dangerously low. "I've seen all of you play. I trust in every one of you. Katie Bell, Samantha Evans, Ginny Weasley, Catherine Spinnet, Michelle Urquhart, Victoria Hughes and Angelina Johnson!" The room fell silent in anticipation as the last name rolled off Gwenog's tongue. Ginny could not look away from her coach as she felt her own spirits rise. "Now get into those jerseys and show me why I've placed so much faith in you!" A fraction of a second after her teammates began to cheer, Ginny felt her own throat begin to burn as she joined them.

Unfortunately, that was where the fun ended for the day. Harry had prepared her well with all the jogging, swimming, exercises and light weights, but Gwenog still proved able to drill her, and the rest of the team, into the ground. The woman was a maniac. She could've cracked You-Know-Who's skull if she'd wanted to. No wonder the man never came to these parts. Come to think of it, Harry held that same edge, but his was sharper and yet more refined in a sense.

At the end of the day Ginny dragged her exhausted body out of the stadium. Her contract, no longer a secret, allowed her the freedom to come and go as she pleased. Before she could reach the doors a voice called to her from behind.

A weary pivot allowed her to see the source. "Harry." The name came out as a long tired breath as she tried to find the strength to be happy.

"That bad, huh?" Harry wrapped his arms around her and Ginny let herself sag into his hold.

"Feels good," Ginny mumbled into his chest. "Do you mind holding on to me for a few days while I recover?"

Harry's chest rumbled and his lips kissed the top of her head. "I'll hold you for longer, but that might exhaust you more."

"Probably." There was no point in arguing. "You do bring out the worst in me, Harry Potter."

"Well you don't seem to be giving me much opportunity for being good."

"You must've realized how wicked I am."

"At least you're my wicked witch."

She scrunched up her nose at the worst comment ever, but then smiled. "Wouldn't want it any other way." She pushed her tired limbs up and kissed him. It proved a good balm for her spirits. Loving arms holding her, a tender kiss, what more could she want. "I need a good long bath," she sighed discarding her own thoughts. She was allowed to be fickle at times.