A/N: Because a couple of people have asked, this fic does presume a pre-existing relationship between Harry and Ginny. Thanks as ever to my friend and beta Jenadamson, and to Python Blossom, whose prompt got me to write something that can legitimately be called fluff. :-)
"D'you want to explain to me just what the bloody hell this is?"
Harry set his quill down very carefully and took the piece of parchment from Ginny's hand. He knew from painful personal experience not to make any sudden moves when she was angry, and judging from the notice she'd just thrown down across his Charms essay she was very angry. He pushed his glasses up on his nose and studied the notice. He already knew what it was, of course, because he'd written it and posted it on the Gryffindor notice board.
"Looks like a team roster to me," he finally said. "Judging from the positions and names, I'd say it's the Gryffindor Quidditch roster."
"Oh, would you now?"
Harry looked up at her. She was leaning back against the table with her arms folded over her chest and an angry red flush creeping up her neck like a rash. "Ginny, what are you on about?" he asked.
"What am I on about?" she asked, her voice rising. An angry hiss from Madam Pince forced her to bend closer to him and whisper harshly, "What am I on about? Harry, look at the roster." She jabbed her finger at the notice. "D'you see anything missing?"
He studied it, running his finger past each name as he read them off. "Potter, Seeker; R. Weasley, Keeper; Sloper, Kirke, Beaters; McDonald, D. Creevey, Abercrombie, Chasers." He looked back up. "No, everyone's there."
"Everyone's there? What about 'G. Weasley, Chaser'? I don't see that anywhere on your ruddy roster."
He sat back in his chair. "Oh. That."
"That's all you have to say for yourself? 'Oh, that'?"
"Well --" He rubbed the back of his neck, which had suddenly started to perspire. "You didn't come to tryouts, see --"
"I shouldn't have had to! I'm on the team!"
"No, what I mean is -- you weren't there to see Abercrombie fly."
"Who cares if he can fly?"
"I do. He's a brilliant flyer, Ginny. I haven't seen anything like him."
"But I'm supposed to be on the team, Harry. I have seniority."
"Yes, but --" She looked at him with raised eyebrows. "But he's better than you."
She slammed her hand down on the table. "Dammit, Harry, that's beside the point!"
"No it isn't. You want Gryffindor to win, don't you?"
She spluttered. Harry tensed, knowing she was about to unleash her fury on him with both barrels. He slipped his hand to where he could easily grab his wand. She could be quick on the draw, but then so could he.
Before either of them could move or speak, however, a shadow fell across them. Harry looked up to see Madam Pince's severe, pinched face glowering at them. "Both of you. Out. Now." She grabbed Harry by the collar of his robe and jerked him to his feet.
"Ow! Hey! All right, I'm going!" he exclaimed as she dragged him out of the library and deposited him in the corridor. He landed on his rump with an 'oof'.
Ten seconds later Ginny fell in a disgruntled heap beside him. She was soon followed by Harry's books, parchment, quill and ink bottle, which connected with his head with a sharp clunk, fell to the floor and shattered, splattering both of them with its contents.
"Blimey," Harry said, rubbing at the rising lump on his head. "What's got into her?"
Ginny scowled at him. "Piss off, Potter," she spat as she got to her feet and took off down the corridor.
It finally began to dawn on Harry that perhaps he'd royally mucked things up this time and presumed too much. He scrambled to his feet and went after her, leaving his things strewn across the floor outside the library. "Ginny, wait," he said. He had to chase her quite some distance, calling her name several times, before she finally stopped. Though she kept her back to him, he could tell from her movements that she'd reached up to wipe at her face.
"Ginny, I'm sorry," he said.
"Too right you're sorry. You're a sorry wanker, that's what you are."
"Ginny," he pleaded, "I didn't know -- I didn't think --"
She spun angrily towards him, revealing the damp streaks down her face. "Don't give me that rubbish. You knew bloody well what you were doing, and that it would upset me. If you think I'm a crap Chaser then say so to my face, don't let the whole House know by posting a roster without my name on it." She reached up and rubbed at her forehead. "Did Ron know what you were up to?"
"Brilliant," she said, throwing her hands up in the air. "Just brilliant. Even my own brother thinks I'm rubbish."
"No one thinks you're rubbish, Ginny."
"Then why'd you cut me from the team?"
He sighed. "I really wish you'd come to tryouts. If you could've seen Abercrombie fly, you'd know why I had to have him on the team."
"But why me?" she cried, pointing at herself. "Why couldn't you cut Natalie or Dennis?"
"Er... they're younger, so they have more years they can play for Gryffindor."
"I have more experience!"
"And... er... er... I thought you'd understand better than they would."
"Understand? What's to understand?"
She gave him an exasperated look. "What the bloody hell does that mean?"
"Sometimes you have to make sacrifices for the greater good."
"The greater good? Are you mad? This isn't the war with You-Know-Who we're talking about, it's Quidditch."
"Quidditch is a form of war." At her scoff he explained, "We're at war with the other Houses, Slytherin in particular, to win the Cup."
Ginny rolled her eyes. "You've been spending too much time with my brothers."
"I'm serious," he said.
"I know you are. That's what worries me. You actually believe we're at war." She sighed. "I still don't understand why I'm the one who has to make the sacrifice. Am I really that bad a Chaser?"
Cautiously, Harry moved closer to her and enfolded her in his arms. He was measurably relieved when he felt her relax and her arms slip around his waist. "You're a very good Chaser. But Euan is amazing. He could be world-class. But he needs time and experience if that's going to happen."
He felt her shoulders rise and fall. "And Natalie and Dennis?" Her breath was warm and moist against his neck, and his heartbeat seemed to quicken in response.
"Are young and impressionable. I can train them up, knock their bad habits out of them. You on the other hand --"
She raised her head to look up at him. Her eyes glittered dangerously. "Are too stubborn?"
He grinned and tightened his hold around her waist. "You are a Weasley, and already think you know more about Quidditch than everyone else on the team. Besides," he said, bending his neck to whisper in her ear, "I reckoned I could make it up to you in ways I couldn't to Natalie and Dennis."
"Is that so?" she said, the amusement evident in her voice. "Don't make any promises you can't fulfill, Potter."
"Is that a challenge?" He pulled her closer to nuzzle at her neck.
"Harry!" she exclaimed, laughing, as she slapped him away. "Was this just some mad ploy to get into my knickers?"
Harry tried not to think too much about that particular image. He was having enough trouble concentrating as it was, with her so close to him and smelling the way she did. "Maybe," he said, waggling his eyebrows at her. "Is it working?"
She shook her head. "You're such a dirty old goat." Wrapping her arms around his neck and standing on her toes, she gave him a slow, lingering kiss. Harry responded eagerly, but she pulled back once again, leaving him frustrated. "Abercrombie had better be the best damn Chaser I've ever seen, or there'll be hell to pay," she said, poking her finger into his chest. "And don't even get me started on what I'll do to you if Gryffindor doesn't win the Quidditch Cup this year."
Harry gulped. "Yes, ma'am."
She shook her head again, but smiled, then grabbed his hand and pulled him down the corridor. "Now let's see if I can't get you started on 'making it up' to me."