Harry’s quill scratched across the page before he looked up at Ginny through the fringe on his forehead. He smiled. “Gin, what brings you to the Ministry today?”

Ginny strode into his cubby, kicking aside a stack of files before leaning against the fabric covered wall. “Hadn’t seen you since we went running last. Wanted to see how you were. Make sure the Ministry hadn’t killed you.”

He leaned back in his chair, forgetting about his blood parchments and studying for a minute. “Not yet. They’re trying awfully hard, though.” He cocked his head to the side. “You’re the one who’s been busy. I’ve heard about your clinic.” He nodded his head at her. “Good on you, I say. It was bound to happen sooner or later. You just needed to pluck up the courage to get it done.”

Her foot darted out and kicked at his knee. “Oh, shut it. I don’t need to hear it from you too.” She grinned despite the blush coloring her cheeks. “I was actually here to see about procuring your expertise on something.”

“Oh?” Harry leaned forward, rubbing at his knee cap. “And what services of mine were you looking for?”

Snorting, Ginny pushed off the wall. “I’m running a booth at the Halloween festival in Hogsmeade on Wednesday. I think I might need someone about if the jollier fellows decide they’d like to take advantage of things.”

“Jollier fellows?”

“Drunks, Harry. If the drunks decide to get fresh.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “And why exactly would the drunks be getting fresh at your booth?”

Ginny rolled her eyes and sighed, crossing the small space to sit on the edge of his desk. She was fairly sure she’d just sat on his quill, but she could really care less. She was embarrassed for the next part, but she’d taken it on because Blaise had agreed to wear a costume. It was the least she could do. Being fair and all that, she supposed.

“Healing Hands, the clinic, is going to be running a kissing booth for the kids during the day. They kiss me on the cheek, they get a bit of candy and a savings on their first practical examination.”

“You want me to protect you from drunken kids?” He grunted when Ginny’s hand punched him in the shoulder. “Oi!”

“I wasn’t finished, you prat.” She sighed, flicking her hair over her shoulder. “We’re going to be keeping the booth open through the night festivities, asking for donations for the clinic for a kiss. As you can tell, with all the drink and spirits about, there’s almost certainly going to be a few men who might get a little… overzealous… with the idea. I just want someone nearby, watching and making sure nothing bad happens.”

Harry looked up at her thoughtfully. “You’re going to be kissing complete strangers? Please tell me you’re planning on using an antiseptic charm.”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Yes, I’m going to be making sure I don’t come down with wizarding VD.” At the mention of the fictitious ailment, she shook her head, trying for the fiftieth time that day to not think about Draco. “I’m hoping that making a few randy old men’s night that not only will I get a nice donation going, but I’ll also build a client base. We need more patients. We’ve only had two in the clinic.”

“Who?”

“Like I’d tell you.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Well, first, I wouldn’t tell you because I’m not allowed to, you idiot. Healer-patient privileges and all that. Second, you wouldn’t like it, and I don’t need you preaching to me.”

Harry’s interest was piqued, but he knew better than to push her when it came to her job. She wouldn’t tell him. Healer code or not. “Apparently you do need to me preach to you since you’ve taken to making booths to kiss dodgy old men.”

“Sod off. I don’t need your help.” She sighed at his look. “Alright, I need your help, but I don’t need you to talk while doing it.”

Harry grinned before shaking his head. “As much as I’d love to pry men off of you, I have to work here that day. LeGrot seems to think I’m better suited covering the soil here at the Ministry while the rest of the trainees cover Hogsmeade.” At her look of disappoint, he sighed. “I can talk to a few of the trainees, see if they’ll keep an eye out. I’ll only talk to the people I think are able. Promise.”

“Gee, thanks for the thought.”

“Hey, I’d rather be there. I know a few people who are probably doing something that night.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Like?”

“You remember Mac from school? Ravenclaw?” She nodded. “I… ran into her a few weeks back. Her and Brody bought the Sticks.”

“Brody?” Ginny had never been too involved in the order, but she knew who he was talking about. “Didn’t she lose a brother?”

“Connor. Yeah.” He nodded sadly before grinning suddenly. “Hey, if you want someone to watch out for you, just ask her. She’s got quite the punch.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. He usually didn’t talk about someone in that tone of voice. “Does she? And how did you run into her again?”

Harry looked at his desk. “I just ran into her.”

Ginny smiled knowingly. “Mmmhmm. I just bet you did.”

He looked up at her, eyes narrowed. “But, seriously, if you’re really worried about it, you should ask her.”

She shook her head. “I’m pretty sure the Sticks is going to be playing a big part in the festivities. She might be a little busy.” She reached out and patted him on the knee. “I think it’s a good thing you’re getting out of here every once in a while.”

Harry snorted. “Yeah, when they unshackle my ankles I get loads of outdoor time.” He rolled his eyes, leaning forward in his chair. “Alas, they’re keeping me here, so you’ll have to find your protection elsewhere.”

She sighed. “It’s a shame. I was going to give you free kisses.”

“There is no such thing as a free kiss with you, Gin.”

Smiling, she darted forward and kissed him on the cheek.

He smirked at her as she pulled back. “I stand corrected.”

“Please, just have someone keep an eye on my corner, yeah? I don’t want to have to hex anyone. It’ll only make more paperwork for you in the end.”

Harry stood. “Of course. Owl me about a time for training. I think you could use the exercise.” He dodged her hand when it whipped out, aimed at his head.

“Ponce!”

Summary: Ginny goes to Harry for some protection.