.:::.
July
Ginny closed her eyes and let her head fall back, and Harry found he couldn't breathe.
She was so beautiful like this, with a sheen of sweat covering her neck and that ruffly pink bridesmaid's dress she hated so much bunched up around her waist, the taffeta shimmering in the dim light as she rolled her hips. She bit her lip and slid one hand under the fabric to touch herself. He would offer to do it for her, but he didn't quite know how. It was only the third time they'd ever done this.
She leaned forward and braced herself with one hand on the headboard behind him, the other hand still moving rhythmically between her thighs, and began to move faster. The change of angle sent a jolt through Harry, and he arched his hips up to meet her with every stroke.
"God, Ginny," he gasped.
She opened her eyes then and looked down at him, shaking her head. "Shhh."
He couldn't remember what he was going to say anyway. He couldn't think straight, not while she was fucking him into the mattress like this. Her carefully styled hair was falling down around her face now, tendrils sticking to sweat-slicked skin. She looked like she was glowing.
And she was so hot and wet, so tight around his cock, and he didn't think he could bear it much longer. His hands found their way under the dress to clench her hips, but he wasn't the one in control. He was just trying to hang on.
Her movements became erratic then and her breathing quickened, and he could feel her body clenching as she came. She didn't make a sound, though, and her silence was even more erotic than the expression on her face.
She kept moving until he came a minute later, and she had to clamp a hand over his mouth to remind him to be quiet about it. After all, there was only an unlocked door between them and more than 100 wedding guests milling about the magically-enlarged Burrow.
They grinned at each other for a brief moment before reality set back in. Ginny gave him a wry smile as she climbed off of him and straightened out her dress. He slid his trousers back over his hips, and they both stood. It took a few quick spells to eliminate the evidence -- a banishing spell here, a smoothing spell there -- all cast illegally, but in the middle of so many wizards, it hardly mattered.
"When are you leaving?" she asked, turning to examine her reflection in a mirror that hung above a chest of drawers.
"Tomorrow. I can't tell you where we're going."
"I know."
He watched her reflection as she reapplied lipstick and smoothed out her hair. Sometimes he wished this wasn't all they had, but he tried not to think about it much any more. It was better than nothing.
Or at least, it would be until he was alone in the middle of the night in some strange place, when the memory of this stolen moment would torment him into the wee hours of the morning.
He didn't get to have a normal life, but she could. She could have all the things she deserved, that he couldn't give her.
"I might not come back, you know."
She turned to look at him. "Why tell me now? I've already shagged you."
He tried to smile, but found it was difficult. "It's not about getting you to shag me. It's about... I don't want you to wait for me."
"Who says I was going to do?" She turned back to the mirror and studied her reflection. Her eyes were dark in the dim light of the room, and he couldn't read them.
"Good," he replied, looking away
.
.:::.
October
Harry stood in the middle of the garden of his parents' old house in Godric's Hollow and stared up at the night sky. The clouds obscured the stars, and he tried to imagine the constellations behind them. He hadn't paid enough attention in astronomy lessons, though, and he was sure he had them wrong. He should ask Hermione when he went back inside.
His breath frosted in the air, and he wrapped his cloak tightly about him. He could feel his mum's presence here sometimes, if he quieted his mind enough. He closed his eyes and concentrated, and tried to remember what she looked like. She would have kept this garden in bloom in the summer, with many kinds of flowers and herbs for potions. It would have been lively and unkempt, not sterile and orderly like Aunt Petunia's. His mum's garden would be alive. He'd like to make it that way again, someday.
He opened his eyes, and there was a hooded figure standing not ten feet away, watching him from behind the willow tree. He reached for his wand before he stopped to think, and the figure stepped forward and pulled the hood away.
He had to blink his eyes to make sure he wasn't imagining her. "Ginny? What are you doing here?"
She produced a parcel from within her cloak. "Lupin gave me this and told me where to find you. I didn't know he was your secretkeeper."
Harry swallowed. He didn't like the idea of Ginny knowing how to find him, fidelius charm or no. "Is he all right?"
Ginny glanced up at the sky. "Full moon tonight. Not that you can see it. He said time was of the essence with this." She held out the parcel.
He crossed to her and took it, savoring the brief brush of her fingers against his. "You should be in school." He tucked the parcel into a pocket, keeping his eyes fixed on hers.
She raised an eyebrow. "McGonagall knows I'm here, if that makes you feel better."
He shook his head. "They shouldn't send you away from the castle at a time like this. It isn't safe."
She stepped forward, enough that he could feel the heat from her body. "I think I'm quite safe at the moment, actually."
"Ginny..." he began, but the expression on her face stopped him. He missed her so much. He wanted her, even though he knew he shouldn't. She deserved better than this life, better than this uncertainty.
"I'm not asking for anything," she whispered. "I only want what you're able to give me, and I can live with the rest."
He felt frozen to the spot, wanting to take her in his arms, to kiss her, to pull her body against his -- but it wouldn't do either of them any good. It would only make things worse.
She tilted her head and smiled. "I know what you're thinking. And you're wrong." She clasped the front of his cloak and tugged him toward her, and kissed him.
It was exactly as he'd remembered, as he'd dreamed for months now, the way she tasted, the way her tongue moved in slow circles around his, the way she forgot to breathe and finally had to pull away from him and gasp for air.
He took advantage of the opportunity to push her back against the tree, and hoped they couldn't be seen from the house. He planted little kisses across her forehead, down her cheek, and then under her jaw. She lifted her chin to give him better access.
"I've missed you so much," she said, her voice barely more than a whisper.
"Me too," he said. "But we can't do this."
"Do what?" She smiled up at him and pressed her palm against his groin, fingers seeking out his already-swelling cock.
"Oh god," he said, and planted a hand on the tree on either side of her head. He should stop this right now. He should tell her to go back to school, and he should go back in the house and make a plan for tomorrow with Ron and Hermione. But he couldn't.
She unfastened the zip of his jeans and eased them down over his hips, and then slid to her knees. The cold air chilled his erection and then all he could feel was wet and hot and slick pressure and god he'd forgotten how good she was at this. He could feel her breath against his skin, her tongue swirling around the head of his cock, her fingers gripping his arse as if she were afraid he might try to pull away, and all of it was overwhelming.
"I'm--" was all he managed to say in warning before he came.
She pulled away after a moment and spat on the ground, then looked up at him. She usually didn't like him to come in her mouth, but she didn't look upset about it. Her eyes were wide, and her lips were wet and swollen, and she looked… debauched.
He hauled her to her feet and pressed her against the tree, his hands fumbling for the waistband of her trousers. He slid his fingers into her knickers, and she was already wet. He'd never been very good at this part. The few times they'd had sex, she had touched herself, even batting his hand away once when she got frustrated by his clumsy attempts. He wasn't quite sure what he was doing -- he'd never quite figured out how much pressure and how fast and how much one should really focus on the clitoris. But for once, she seemed unhurried, content to let him explore.
His fingers slid into her, and she was so hot and slick inside that it made him groan. His forehead fell against hers, and then he kissed her, not even caring that she still tasted like his spunk. For the first time he could remember, the idea was erotic.
His thumb circled her clitoris while his fingers thrust into her, and he felt her melt against him, her hips thrusting a bit in time with the motions of his hand. Her breathing sped up, and he thought this would finally be it -- he'd finally make her come. The thought was exhilarating, and he realized he was hard again, his cock bumping against her bare belly.
She broke off the kiss and pushed him away, then grinned at him as she stripped off her trousers and knickers, then reached for his prick. She wrapped her fingers around it and pulled him close again, pressing the head between her thighs.
He lifted her and pressed her against the tree, and groaned as she guided his cock into her. She wrapped her thighs tightly around his waist and kissed him, and he managed to find a way to move and keep her pressed against the tree at the same time.
It was odd, he thought, sliding halfway out of her and back in again, that they were doing this in his parents' garden, with Ron and Hermione not far away. They could even see if they looked out the window, and the thought sent a thrill through him. It wasn't as if he hadn't had to listen to them going at it enough. It would serve Ron right to look out the window and catch a glimpse of Harry shagging his sister.
Ginny slid a hand between them and worked her clit hard and fast, and Harry found he didn't mind. He wanted it to be good for her, and it might be the last time anyway. It ought to be the last time, certainly. He concentrated on arching up into her as he moved, something he knew from experience that she liked, and listened to the sound of her breathing speeding up. She bit her lip and scrunched up her face when she came, as if she was trying hard not to make noise.
He rode it out and then focused on himself, hooking his hands under her thighs to hold her in place while he fucked her with quick short, strokes. He came a minute later, pressing his face into her neck and struggling to make as little sound as possible.
"I have to get back," she said, before he'd even pulled out of her.
"Yeah, right. Me too."
She grinned at him. "It's probably best if you didn't tell Ron and Hermione I was here."
Harry fastened up his trousers and snorted. "Ron would kill me if he knew we'd--"
"He knows," Ginny interrupted. She pulled her own trousers back on and fastened them. "He asked me where we'd disappeared to during the wedding, and I told him the truth."
"Please tell me you're joking."
"He turned bright red and said he didn't want to hear another word about it. So I'd advise not telling him about tonight." She winked and slipped her shoes on, then gestured towards the parcel in his pocket. "Remus said you'd know what to do with that. If you have any questions, he'll be back to normal day after tomorrow."
Harry nodded, his fingers tracing the edges of the packet. "Are you apparating back?"
"Yeah. Finally got my license." She beamed, then pressed a quick kiss to his lips before heading for the garden gate.
"Ginny," he called after her. "Be careful, all right?"
"I'm always careful." There was something in her expression that he couldn't quite read. It could have been sadness, or she might just have been tired -- or maybe she already regretted this. She opened the gate and walked through it, and a moment later, he heard the pop of her disapparition.
He stood and stared at the gate, wondering when he would see her again. It was another half hour before he went back into the house, cold again, and feeling emptier than before.
.:::.
December
"But it's Christmas Eve," McGonagall said, her tone of voice indicating that she was growing more exasperated by the second. "You can't very well be alone on Christmas Eve, Potter."
Harry forced a smile. "I'd prefer it, actually. Though I do appreciate the offer."
McGonagall shook her head. "The faculty and staff would be more than happy to have you. I even have spare quarters where you could spend the night. The seventh year Gryffindor dormitory has been rather quiet this term."
"I'm sure the faculty and the seventh year Gryffindors alike would enjoy the chance to question me about the war."
McGonagall looked affronted. "That isn't what I meant. You needn't worry that--"
"Thank you, Headmistress, but no," Harry said, his smile becoming genuine now. "I have business elsewhere." He extended his hand and she took it in both of hers, worry lines crossing her forehead.
"Be careful, Potter. And Happy Christmas."
"Happy Christmas to you too." And with that, he left the office, casting one last glance at Dumbledore's portrait snoozing in its frame. He hadn't been in the room since just after Dumbledore's death, and it was still hard for him to think of it as McGonagall's office.
He headed down the spiral stairs and out the doorway past the gargoyles, looking both ways before he stepped into the corridor. He could have stayed to visit with old friends, but truth be told, he didn't want to. He didn't want to be reminded of what he'd lost. He chose the lesser-used corridors to head towards the front doors, walking quickly and quietly, hoping everyone was already in bed for the night. He'd walk to just outside the gates and then apparate back to Godric's Hollow, where he'd have the place to himself for once.
"Thought you could leave without so much as saying hello?"
Harry whirled around, and Ginny stepped out of the shadows, glaring at him.
"I thought you went home for Christmas."
"No." She stepped forward, her arms folded across her chest. "Everyone's there, but it didn't feel right somehow. Not with the war going on."
"The war is the best reason to spend time with your family."
"Then what are you doing here? I know my mother invited you."
He shrugged; he didn't have an answer for that. It had felt more like intruding this year, for some reason. In years past, he'd treasured the chance to spend Christmas with the Weasleys, but this year was different. He wasn't sure if he belonged anywhere.
"Well, there you have it," Ginny said, sliding her arms around his waist. "Neither of us has anywhere better to go."
Harry stared at her for a moment, knowing he should walk away -- but he found he didn't have the strength to. He closed his eyes and pulled her into an embrace, and buried his nose in her hair. She smelled just like she did in his dreams, of something vaguely flowery and fresh, and warm and--
He pulled away and looked down at her, into her eyes. It had taken more than a month to stop thinking about her after the last time, and he really didn't need to do this to himself again. It was better if he was detached.
"I have to go."
"No, you don't," she whispered, brushing her lips against his. "Where do you have to go on Christmas Eve?"
"Do you think Voldemort sits by the fire and sings carols with his favorite Death Eaters at Christmas?" he retorted, but it sounded hollow even to his own ears. Her lips brushed against his again, and he found he couldn't resist -- he kissed her back, his hands sliding down her body to pull her against him.
"I doubt he does anything like this," she replied. Her hands ran over his arse, punctuating the thought.
"No. I imagine not." He frowned. "Or rather, I don't want to imagine."
Ginny smirked. "You never read all of his diary, did you?" She took Harry by the hand and tugged him down the corridor, then into an empty classroom.
It was one Harry had never had a lesson in, and hadn't even known existed until now. There were sheets of parchment with strange symbols on them decorating the walls, and the desks were arranged in a semicircle, as if the last lesson there had involved a discussion. Ginny led him to the professor's desk at the front of the room, then pulled out her wand and lit a few of the lanterns on the walls so that they could properly see.
She turned to Harry and gestured to the desk. "Sit." He complied without even thinking. It was probably best if he didn't think from here on out. "And take off your jumper."
He hesitated then, not sure if he would wind up regretting this or just enjoying it -- but he deserved something nice at Christmas, didn't he? He'd grown tired of wanking to porn, and fantasizing about her only depressed him. They both needed this now, to get their mind off of the war. It would be the last time. Really.
Don't think.
Of course, he ought to apparate her back to Godric's Hollow, where he could make love to her in his own bed, with no one around to disturb them. But she couldn't leave school without permission, and war on or no, he doubted McGonagall would release Ginny to his custody for the night.
This was the best they could have, and he was going to enjoy it. He tossed his jumper to the side and smiled at her in a way he hoped was seductive.
"And now your shirt." He pulled the shirt over his head, but she stopped him and pushed him back onto the desk, saying, "Stay like that for a while. Just like that."
His arms were bound over his head by the fabric and his face was covered, and he felt uncomfortably vulnerable. But when her hands began to unfasten the fly of his jeans, he found he liked not being able to see what was coming next.
Her fingers teased his cock first, slowly, and then there was a pause while she disappeared. He was about to call her name when he felt her mouth engulf him, so suddenly he had to bite his lip to keep from making an embarrassing sound. She sucked him for a while, her tongue swirling gently in a rhythm that seemed designed to make him last. It was relaxing and exhilarating at the same time, and he wished he could tangle his fingers in her hair.
Her mouth came off and she crawled up onto the desk, straddling him. She pulled the shirt up just enough to uncover his mouth and nose, and kissed him. He could feel the fabric of her skirt on his belly and thighs, and he could feel warm, wet skin pressing against the length of his cock.
"No knickers," he gasped when she pulled out of the kiss. "I hope that means you were planning to find me."
"McGonagall told me you were coming," she replied, planting little kisses along his jawline. "She said she was going to ask you to stay, but she reckoned you wouldn't."
"And you decided to catch me on the way out?"
"I don't hear you complaining."
"No," he replied, and found himself panting as her little nips turned into long sucking kisses along his jugular. He turned his head to give her more access, amazed that mere kisses could feel so good.
"I think I like you like this," she whispered, mouth hovering over his ear now. "Bound and blindfolded, with your cock hard and leaking, all ready for the taking."
"Oh god," he said, the meaning of her words washing over him as her hot breath trailed across his skin. She'd never talked like this before, and it was surprisingly erotic.
"I want to try something new."
"This is new," he said, just as he felt her move over him. He still couldn't see, and had no idea what was happening until he felt the brush of pleated wool on his chest and against his cheeks. He caught the scent of her then, unmistakable from their few previous couplings. He'd smelled it on his own fingers after the last time, and had spent an extra half hour in bed the next morning with his fingers over his mouth and the other hand wrapped around his prick. "Oh god," he said, when he realized what she wanted to try. They'd never done this before.
He felt her mouth on his prick again, and he wondered how the hell he was supposed to concentrate enough to do this to her. He had only done it once before as it was, under the invisibility cloak down by the lake, with her ankles around his neck and her fingers continually getting in the way as she tried to touch herself while he licked her pussy.
This time her fingers wouldn't get in the way. His hands were still bound, though, so he had to crane his neck up a bit just to find her, to swipe his tongue against that soft skin, to tease her enough to get her to shift her hips down for him. She did, and he soon found his mouth full of her, wet and hot and so amazing he felt his balls start to ache from it. She squirmed a bit when he sucked, and moaned when he flicked his tongue against where he thought her clitoris was, and made a strange little keening sound when he thrust his tongue up into her vagina.
He tried to concentrate, but she was taking his cock as far down her throat as she could, and she was stroking his balls with her fingers, and it was hard to think at all when he felt her swallow around his shaft. He wanted more pressure and couldn't imagine she didn't want the same, so he sucked her pussy hard, moving his tongue roughly against all the soft skin in his mouth.
She was off of him a moment later, leaving his face wet and a bit cold, and then she sank onto his cock. The contrast with her mouth was enough to make him see stars, and when she started to move, he didn't know how long he would manage to last. She seemed focused more on herself than on him, though he didn't mind. He could feel her fingertips brush his belly as she touched herself, and could feel her coming before he even heard it. Her body gripped his cock over and over, and she moved with a strange sort of rhythm against him, almost erratic. She paused when she was done, and he could feel her thighs trembling.
A moment later, she was moving again, one hand pressed hard against her crotch, and amazingly, she came again -- this time even more intensely. He tugged the shirt off then, wanting to see her face more than anything, wanting to pull her against him and grind up into her, wanting to have some control over his own orgasm. His hands found her hips just as she was finishing, and he pushed himself up into her. Her mouth was open and her eyes closed, and he wished he could have taken credit for it. She'd done it herself, though, as usual. She could take care of herself -- all she needed was for him to be there.
Not that he needed much more, truth be told. He held her hips still and tried to move under her, pushing himself into her body over and over. She finally braced herself with hands on his shoulders, and bucked her hips against him in short fast strokes. He came in seconds, barely able to stop himself from shouting at the intensity of it.
She collapsed onto his chest afterwards, and he wrapped his arms around her.
"We've got to stop doing this," he whispered.
"Why? We both enjoy it."
"You know why."
She pushed up onto her elbows and kissed him. "Yes. I know. I just wish it didn't have to be that way."
He smiled at her, but found he couldn't bring himself to say anything more.
"Happy Christmas, Harry."
"Happy Christmas."
An hour later, he was back at Godric's Hollow, stoking a fire in the cold hearth, and wondering if it would have been such a bad idea to stay at Hogwarts for the night, wrapped in her arms.
.:::.
March
Harry swirled the scotch in the glass. It smelled of peat, and grass, and old stone, and all of the things that reminded him of Hogwarts. He took a sip and set the glass back on the table, and closed his eyes.
"How many of those have you had?"
"Three," he replied, not bothering to open his eyes at the sound of her voice. He might have been imagining it anyway.
"Then I've some catching up to do." He heard the clink of another glass against his own, and opened his eyes to see Ginny raising hers to her lips.
"Didn't know you liked scotch," he said, slurring his words just a bit.
"I don't," she replied, and made a face. "But it seems appropriate, doesn't it?"
He shook his head and didn't answer, focusing on the amber liquid in his glass again.
She sighed. "There wasn't anything you could've done, even if you'd been there. Don't blame yourself."
"It's what I'm best at," he retorted. "Besides, I was there the first time Hogwarts was attacked, and I didn't do much good then either."
A long silence stretched out between them, during which Ginny took two more small sips of scotch before pressing her lips together in determination and shooting the whole lot back. She made a face. "McGonagall says they'll rebuild it. It might take a few years, though, and they don't dare start until…" She broke off and stared into her glass.
"Until I do my job," Harry finished. "If I'd done it sooner, none of this would've happened."
"It isn't your fault," she said, but she had to know he wouldn't believe it so easily. Hogwarts was a smoking heap of rubble. Half the students were injured or dead, and Harry blamed himself for all of it. If he'd managed to find that last horcrux and defeat Voldemort by now, or if he'd somehow got there before the attack, maybe it wouldn't have happened.
Now he really couldn't finish school. He could never go back.
"At least I don't have to worry about NEWTs now," Ginny said, but the humor was lost in her sad smile. He found he couldn't even return that much.
They were silent again for a while. She ordered another scotch and drank it down in two gulps, and he finished his off. The Muggle crowd around them chattered about politics and the situation in the Middle East, and other things he hadn't bothered to keep up with. Sometimes he wondered what it would be like to be them, to not know what danger was coming, what evil waited just over the horizon. To just complain about the boss and the bird, and have a few drinks with the lads, then hope for a shag when he got home.
But that wasn't his life. It would never be his life.
He looked up at Ginny. She was dressed in Muggle clothes, as he was, and her long red hair had been cropped to her shoulders since he'd last seen her.
"You cut your hair."
"I wondered if you'd notice."
He'd missed her. How many nights had he hid from the world in pubs like this, plotting his next move against Voldemort and wishing she would be waiting for him when he went to bed? Life seemed so fragile lately, so short, and he'd wasted so much time worrying about hurting her by getting himself killed. She'd kept coming back, though, time and again. Maybe she was stronger than he gave her credit for. Maybe she was stronger than he was.
He smiled. "Got anywhere to go tonight?"
She shook her head no, and waited for him to ask. He didn't ask, though; he pushed himself to his feet and held out his hand.
They ignored the pointed stares of the innkeeper when they asked for a room for the night, with obviously fake names and no baggage of any kind. They didn't say a word as they walked up the stairs. Harry unlocked the door and Ginny switched on the lamp by the bed, and they turned to stare at each other.
Ginny slipped out of her coat and carefully draped it over a chair by the door, then kicked off her shoes. Harry mirrored her, folding his shirt and jeans into a neat pile next to hers on the chair. They turned to face each other when they were both naked. Harry let his eyes wander over her for a minute, realizing he'd never actually seen her completely naked before. It had always been in bits and pieces, but never all at once. She was studying him as well, and he was surprised that it didn't make him uncomfortable.
By a sort of unspoken agreement, she made love to him first, covering every inch of his body with kisses and caresses, dipping her tongue into places he never thought he'd let anyone go, and making him come with her mouth and fingers after what felt like hours.
It was his turn then. He started on her back, mapping out freckles with his mouth and running his tongue down the curve of her spine, as slowly as he could manage. He pressed her thighs apart and licked his way slowly from the small of her back down to her clit, and then turned her over so that he could focus on this. She was already wet and swollen, and he found that he wanted to take his time. He'd thought about this, about how he would do it if he got another chance.
He kept his licks light and maddening, pulling away when she started to moan and teasing as much as possible. He mapped out every inch of her pussy with his tongue and lips, trying to memorize the sight and the feel. He sucked and stroked until his jaw started to ache, and then pressed two fingers into her and started a gentle rhythm of swirling his tongue around her clit and then sucking lightly, stroking his fingers in and out in a rhythm he thought she would like.
Her breathing had been ragged for a long time, but he heard it change, heard the little moans in her throat build into something substantial. She clenched his hair in her fists and pressed his face firmly against her, and all he could do was open his mouth wider and hang on. She cried out in a way he'd never heard her do before, almost sounding like she was in pain, and then collapsing into near-sobs as her orgasm subsided.
He was unbearably hard, and he moved up her body to press his cock into her, amazed at how slick she was now, so much that there was very little friction. It wasn't going to take much, though.
But she had other plans -- she arched up against him, angling her hips and grasping his arse, and urged him to move faster. He did, and a moment later she was coming again, even more intensely, and so loud he was sure they'd be kicked out of the inn within the hour.
Her cries subsided again, and he buried his face in her neck, fucking her as hard as he could manage, finally pushing himself over the brink.
It wasn't until they were spooned together in the small bed, both still messy and pleasantly sated, that he realized she hadn't touched herself -- not once. He kissed her shoulder, marveling at the softness of her skin beneath his lips. He'd never spent the night with her like this -- he'd never slept with anyone, for that matter.
He already knew they would go their separate ways in the morning, but it didn't seem so terrible at the moment. He knew he'd see her again, and that she'd be all right. And that knowledge was far more comforting than he could have imagined.
"You think too much," she whispered, and then yawned.
"I know." He inhaled the scent of her hair and smiled.
.:::.
July
Ginny closed her eyes and let her head fall back, her hips moving in circles as she fucked him. The blue bridesmaid dress was bunched up around her middle, its thin straps sliding off of her shoulders. Her breasts were bouncing as she moved, and he finally couldn't stand it anymore -- he reached up to tug the dress down so that he could see them. He sat up then, arms wrapped around her as she moved and sucked one nipple into his mouth.
She was getting close, and as much as he wanted to feel her come around his cock, he decided he'd rather feel her come in his mouth. He flipped them over and pulled out, then buried his face between her thighs.
"Oh god, suck it, yeah," she groaned, and he flinched before he remembered she'd put a silencing charm on the room. Not that he doubted everyone knew what they were up to. Even Ron had winked as they'd made a quick exit up the stairs and into Ginny's bedroom, not even bothering to take off much more than the essentials before going at it.
Ginny pulled the dress up enough that Harry could breathe, and then reached between her thighs to open herself even more to him. He loved it when she did that.
He slid one finger into her and then another, and thrust them both in and out of her body as he worked her clit with his tongue and lips. She came thirty seconds later, practically howling as she did. He barely got his cock back inside her before he finished.
They lay in a heap of limbs on the bed for nearly a minute afterwards, trying to catch their breath.
"We've been gone ten minutes," Harry said at last, pushing himself up to sitting. "It's going to be embarrassing enough to go back out there as it is."
"Then let's not go back out," Ginny said, catching his hand. "Stay here. We can do it again."
"Maybe you can, but I need an hour to recuperate." He looked down at his dress robes and made a face. "I think I left my wand in my cloak. Can you clean this up?"
She sat up and examined the tell-tale fluid stains on his trousers, then took in the wrinkled state of the dress she was now half-wearing. "We could just change clothes."
"We're in the wedding party. They haven't even taken the pictures yet."
Ginny quirked an eyebrow. "You don't think Ron and Hermione would appreciate us looking well-shagged in their wedding album for all eternity?"
Harry rolled his eyes in response. It was bad enough that he would have to look Ron in the eye after this, let alone present him with tangible proof that he'd shagged his sister.
"All right," she said, and climbed off the bed, straightening out her dress as she did. She plucked her wand from the bedside table and cast a few spells on Harry and then on herself. "Presentable?" she asked.
"What about your knickers?"
"I don't think I'll put them back on. It'll give you something to think about." She winked and checked her reflection in the mirror.
"I've been thinking about little else since the war ended," he replied.
Only a month had gone by, and everything had happened so fast. But it was finally over. Voldemort was gone, and he could get on with his life at last. So naturally, he'd been thinking about shagging Ginny nonstop.
He'd been busy with depositions and debriefings at the Ministry, and the funerals had only just started. She was working for the Order now, and had been apparating all over the country on clean-up missions, making a name for herself with her charm work. They had only seen each other in passing, and had barely had time to talk.
He felt an odd wave of nervousness pass over him. He'd practiced this part half a dozen times, but the words still felt strange on his tongue. "So I was thinking that we have a really great time together, and maybe we should, you know, do it more often than five times a year."
"You counted? How sweet!"
"I'm serious. I care about you, and I want to give this a real try."
She smiled and took his hands in hers. "You know, that means we're going to have to do something other than have sex once in a while. Not that I'm complaining, but we ought to talk, or have dinner, or something like that every now and then. See if we can stand each other's company under normal circumstances."
"I was thinking we might start with breakfast," he said, pulling her in for a quick kiss.
"You have eggs at your house?"
"No."
"Good. I don't like them." She tugged him toward the door, then turned and leaned back against it, a seductive smile on her face. "I assume I'm welcome to come over before morning?"
He nodded and kissed her again. "How long do you think we have to stay after the pictures are done?"
"Our obligation is over when the bride and groom leave. But somehow, I doubt they'd miss us if we slipped out sooner." She pulled him against her and deepened the kiss, and he thought he might melt on the spot.
He pushed away and adjusted his already-swelling prick. "The sooner we get down there, the sooner we can get started."
"Get started on what?"
He smiled. "The rest of our lives."
Something flickered across her face then, and for the first time, he knew exactly what it meant. She smiled back, and they opened the door.
.:::.
~fin ~
Story Notes:
Originally posted: December 18, 2006
Written for smutty_claus as a gift for jenadamson , who requested dirty talk and light bondage, among other things. Thanks to wordplay for the beta!
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