The Slimiest, Wettest Chance

A/N: Title inspired when I was reading facfic WAY too late one night and misread the title for "The Slimmest, Wildest Chance" by Fionnabhair. I was tired enough that I didn't read the story before I wrote this.

Thanks to jennyelf for the beta work and the patience.

Warning: Rated for language and sexual situations.

I do not own any of the characters and this story is for fun not profit.

To say it was wet out would be the understatement of the spring, if not the year. Ginny sighed and contemplated whether or not it was worth it to inform Harry that when she had accepted the Chaser position, she hadn't agreed to have to swim to the Quidditch pitch for practice. In reality, though, she knew it wouldn't matter. She wondered if the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain position was cursed to turn even the sanest of people into stark-raving mad, sado-masochistic bastards. Angelina Johnson had been really nice until she had made captain and the stories she had heard of Oliver Wood confirmed her theory; he had been a nice, sweet young man until he became "El Capitan." In all fairness, Harry had been something of a masochist already, but usually he kept the punishing behavior all to himself. Lately, though, he'd shown he had a sadistic side. Ginny swore he enjoyed watching his team wrap up sore muscles and troop back into the castle, tired, beaten and pruney from practicing in the rain for hours on end.

"…can't go to practice because we have detention with Snape." Ginny narrowed her eyes. She'd bet anything Ron and Dean had purposely picked a fight with the Slytherins to get out of practice tonight. Who in their right mind would hex Malfoy and his cronies right outside of Snape's office?

'Then again,' she thought, with just a hint of vindictiveness, 'my brother and ex-boyfriend are none too bright.' She had a sneaking suspicion that she would be the only one at practice to bear the wrath of their captain. Their third Chaser was falling behind in Transfiguration and McGonagall herself had told Harry that Demelza would not be attending practice tonight because she was having a catch-up session with a couple of other 5th years. Harry had already excused their beaters; one had a slight concussion and couldn't fly for a week and the other had some sort of flu.

'Shit what excuse can I come up with so I don't have to go out in the downpour?' She felt someone come up behind her comfortable chair by the fire. 'Shit! Too late.'

"Looks like it's just you and me tonight, Weasley." She opened her mouth to suggest that they cancel practice entirely. Harry beat her to it. "Don't even think about it, Ginny. We are going to practice. I know for a fact that you don't have any detentions or injuries and that Hermione has forced you to stay up with your studies. We'll work on some Chaser maneuvers. Let's go."

Ginny heaved a sigh before shooting a dirty look at her brother and ex-boyfriend, who had the audacity to smirk at her, and followed her psychotic captain out the portrait hole and into the awaiting monsoon.

Thankfully, it had let up a tad. Instead of being unable to see two meters in front of them, they were now able to see almost five and the wind had died down. Still, both Ginny and Harry were drenched within minutes. They changed into their practice clothes and protective gear quickly. Other than Harry informing Ginny that he would fill in as a second Chaser to practice a Figure-8 maneuver, they were silent.

A half-hour later, Ginny was soaked once more; she felt she had forgotten what it was like to be dry. As she was racing only a couple of meters off the ground, practicing diversion tactics, Harry appeared out of nowhere in front of her. She gave a startled cry and tried to pull her broom up, but as slick as her hands were, she was unable to swerve and collided with him. They both fell the short distance to the ground, their brooms obediently hovering close by.

"DAMNIT GINNY! This is exactly why we need to practice! Mistakes like this are sloppy and easily avoided…" She had never seen Harry yell like this before.

"Yeah! Easily avoided when you're even a little dry and can keep a grip on your broom! Are you trying to get us all sick and injured?!" Ginny had had enough of being pushed around by her lunatic captain.

"We have to train in all kinds of weather! Our next match could easily be in rain like this! Do you want to be unprepared? Do you want to hand the match over to Ravenclaw? Do you want to just hand Slytherin the Cup?" They were nose to nose now, leaning into each other, hands on their hips.

Ginny saw red. Mud from the Quidditch pitch was streaked all over from their fall, so she figured a little more wouldn't hurt. She pushed him as hard as she could with both hands. Harry stumbled backwards, slipping in the slimy mud, but didn't fall. He quickly retaliated. Being bigger, when he pushed Ginny, she fell down.

Ginny narrowed her eyes up at the smirk plastered across his face. She kicked her feet out and effectively knocked him on his ass. Before he had a chance to realize what had happened, Ginny had pounced, wrestling with him on the ground. She was determined to take her frustrations with the captain out on the captain. Surprise gave her the upper hand and she had him effectively pinned in a matter of seconds. She straddled Harry, leaning over to hold his wrists down.

"You know what, Potter?" She yelled in his face. "I think you get off putting other people through sadistic tasks. How do you spend your nights? Do you wank thinking about different ways to be cruel to your team? I bet you think taped knees and wrists are a real turn-on, don't you? And it gets you real hard thinking about having us all so wet out here, doesn't it?" She knew she was pushing too far, but she got a perverse pleasure out of seeing his face turn red.

'Oh FUCK!' She saw his eyes narrow and she struggled to get away from him; too late she realized he'd moved his hands enough to grip her wrists. In one quick move, he had rolled over so that she was underneath him.

Luckily for Ginny, years of fighting Ron had taught her a thing or two and they spent several minutes rolling around in the slimy mud, each unwilling to relinquish control to the other. He was bigger and stronger than she was, however. While being quick had always put her on nearly equal footing with her brothers, Seekers were notoriously fast. She realized with dismay that the other advantage she had always had with her brothers was that no matter how rough they got, they saw her as a little girl so they had never been too rough. Plus, they didn't want to incur the wrath of their mum. Harry had no such fear. His hands were almost painfully tight on her wrists and he used his full weight to pin her down. Ginny made her eyes go wide and innocent and stopped moving once it was certain he had her pinned. She just had to wait for him to relax and then she could wriggle free and escape.

"What about you, huh?" Harry gave her a little shake, his eyes narrowed, his tone low and deadly. "You bragged all last year about how good of a Chaser you were! You have to be able to stay on the broomstick to play."

"If it hadn't been so fucking slick, I wouldn't have fallen off, you bastard!" Ginny had never been so angry at a single person in her life.

Harry laughed mirthlessly, "I know you've had enough practice staying on slick broomsticks." His sneer would have done Malfoy proud. "Do you get off castrating every man you meet? Think all you have to do is snog a bloke and they'll do your bidding? Is that what your little tantrum is about? I wouldn't cancel practice just because you tried to bat your eyes at me. What was that anyway? Most of the time you act more like a guy than most of the blokes I know. Do you prefer girls now?"

"Most of the blokes you know, huh? Is it the Boy-Who-Likes-It-In-The-Ass, then? Maybe Cho should have been jealous of Ron, instead of Hermione. Tell me, Harry, which one of you is the girl and which is the guy?" She made a pouty face, "Bet you're the girl. You're smaller and more feminine." She broke off to laugh as his face got redder. "No wonder you think I prefer girls; what was I thinking liking you!"

For a split second she regretted going so far, but only for a second. She felt his grip loosen and she quickly wriggled free, swung onto her nearby broom and raced to the locker room. Tears threatened to fall, but she bit her lip, forcing them to stay at bay. 'Now I definitely have no chance with Harry,' she thought. 'Not that I did anyway. He thinks I'm a slag.'

Feeling miserable, but not wanting him to see her pain, she rushed into the girl's side of the Gryffindor locker room and slammed the door. Trembling and wanting to get back to her dormitory as quickly as possible, she began to undress. She hated that she couldn't just escape to her dorm showers, but Filch was giving detention to anyone who tracked mud into the castle. She would have to shower here to clean off the mud and then use a drying spell as soon as she got to the castle's foyer to avoid tracking any rain in.

Leaving her sodden Quidditch gear in a small pile near her locker, she quickly pulled off her old t-shirt, sweatpants, and socks. She had taken to wearing her oldest, grimiest clothing to Quidditch practice lately - including the worn and faded white cotton bra and knickers she was left shivering in. She turned and caught her reflection in the mirror.

'No wonder Harry thinks I might as well be a bloke,' she thought disdainfully. 'I'm the breast-less wonder. I barely make the "A" team. I have no curves to speak of; I'm as skinny as my brother. I don't wear make-up or girly clothes, other than the school uniform.' She snorted. 'Hell, the only thing feminine about me is my long hair! Maybe I should just cut it off and take his advice. Start dating girls.' She nearly laughed at her thoughts. Ginny doubted she'd make a very good lesbian. She liked boys too much.

"I definitely need to get some new bras and knickers," she muttered, turning away from the mirror and headed for her locker for a fresh towel and her shower things. The faded once-white cotton was completely soaked through from the rain and was now a grayish-brown from recently rolling around in the mud with Harry. The cotton was so thin that it had become nearly transparent when the rain soaked through her outer clothing. She could see the dark circles of her nipples and a hint of red barely hidden by her knickers.

Just as she reached her locker, the door to the girls' locker room slammed open. Ginny whipped around, dumbfounded with shock. Harry strode across the room, his face flushed red with anger. She instinctively took a retreating step back. While her temper was notorious, it was usually short-lived. Harry's, unfortunately, got worse over time. He was in a towering rage and advancing on her like a lion stalking its prey. Belatedly, she remembered just how little she was wearing and desperately tried to cover herself up, all the while glancing around for a way out. When she realized she was trapped, she turned her eyes back on the figure that had come to a stop right in front of her.

Harry had apparently gone to the boys' locker room and begun changing, but had not gotten very far. He had removed his Quidditch gear and his trainers and socks, but was still wearing a ratty t-shirt and a pair of baggy jeans that clung precariously on his slim hips. He was barely an arm's length away and took a small, menacing step towards her. She took a step back and slammed into the wall behind her. Looking into his eyes, she realized that he had not yet registered that he was in the girl's locker room with a scantily clad girl. He was enraged. Ginny didn't think she had been more afraid in her life. It wasn't that she was worried he would hit her or attack her - on purpose at least. Merlin only knew what kind of accidental magic he could cause as angry as he was. She was more afraid of what he would say. He slammed his hands up against the wall on either side of her shoulders, effectively pinning her there.

"What did I do to you? I don't give a flying fuck if you or the rest of the team thinks I'm a maniac, because who hasn't? You ask me to make you the best team and get pissy with how it's being done! And where the hell do you get off saying I'm a pouf? I thought you were so fucking observant Miss Ginevra! You obviously haven't been paying a bit of attention to me if you think I fancy blokes." He gave a short snort of humorless laughter. Then his eyes narrowed slightly as he glanced down at her nearly exposed body. Ginny desperately tried to cover herself up more. He already thought she was easy; what would he think of her now?

Harry leaned in closer to her until his mouth was only a breath away from her ear. Ginny closed her eyes; she knew he could feel her trembling. "I don't think you're a slag." He whispered in her ear, his tone soft, almost caressing. "I never have thought that. I'm sorry. I was out of line. I didn't mean anything I said and I don't blame you if you hate me. I just…" For a moment she could feel him trying to gather his courage; it was palpable, the feel of him drawing strength to himself. His tone changed as he spoke his next words.

"You were right, though." He moved even closer, his breath on her ear sending shivers up her body. "I do get perverse pleasure out of seeing you tape your wrists. And from thinking about how wet you get out in the rain. I've got this image in my head every night, like you said." Ginny sucked in a breath and looked up at his face; she was starting to get lightheaded by what his words implied. He thought about how wet she got out in the rain?! Harry, however, had his eyes locked onto the top of her head, refusing to look her in the eyes while he spoke.

"What do you think of when you… at night?" Funny, she had never had a problem saying the word "wank" before this moment.

"You." It came out in a rush of breath. He paused for a long time; Ginny was getting ready to prompt him into being more specific when he went on.

"I imagine you. I think about you in different, uh, ways. But, lately, I think about how beautiful you look when you're completely soaked from the rain and tired and muddy and so pissed off at me for making you practice out in this weather. I imagine, er, cleaning up together in the shower and then wrapping your wrists for you. Before watching your hands travel down my chest, and…and…" He trailed off, turning a red that would have put most of her family to shame. When he looked her in the eyes, however, she realized that the flush was less embarrassment than it was desire.

She looked down, shy for a moment. Then she looked back up into his eyes and slid her hands up until they captured his. "Okay." It was all she needed to say. His eyes widen in surprise, before darkening again. They silently picked up the shower things she had been getting out of her locker when he had barged in; together they moved to one of the shower stalls.