FIC - THIRTY (2011) Part 1
Title: Thirty
Author: pettybureaucrat
Year: 2011
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Sex, lots of it. Mentions of past infidelities.
Words: 14400
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and locations are the property of JK Rowling
Summary: Ginny reflects on her and Harry's occasionally rocky past, sighs a bit about her less-than-perfect present, and ponders her future.
A/N: I realize this is late, but I tinkered with it a lot before I was satisfied. I know my take on Harry/Ginny's early relationship may not please everyone, but I feel that they're both such proud and stubborn individuals that such they couldn't help but to have had some serious falling outs. Also, I apologize for the lenght, but I figured turning thirty was a major milestone.
It was rising noon, August 10, 2011, and Ginny Potter sat at her desk in her cubicle at The Daily Prophet, her head lying on her arms. She had just had another stressful, unsatisfactory meeting with her boss, Peter Parkinson, the features editor.
Although still the Ministry of Magic’s mouthpiece, it had been decided two years ago that The Daily Prophet needed to start making a larger profit, so more outside investors were encouraged to buy shares in the paper. Harry and Ginny even owned some, but it was mostly the old, rich, pureblood families that had invested, and naturally, they expected something in return. The Parkinsons had invested quite a bit, so she was stuck with Peter, who was Pansy Parkinson’s cousin, as her boss.
Her old boss had sent her to Quidditch games, gave her per diem, and said she was the best sports writer he’d ever had. But, when Peter took over a year ago, he said she could write her articles from news service reports and the Wizarding Wireless broadcasts, that she had to buy her own meals, and that her writing was ‘marginal’ at best. He had shown her a couple of letters that morning complaining about her not covering the correspondents’ favorite teams in a favorable enough light.
“Straighten up, Potter,” he said, “or you’re through. Your name doesn’t impress me. Of course, I’m open to, ahh, negotiations before your review.”
Ginny was ready to Bat Bogey the odious S.O.B. and tell him to take this job and shove it, but she wouldn’t give him - or the Parkinsons - the satisfaction.
She sat up and leaned back in her rickety chair. Another change since Peter came on board. He had taken her office away and stuck her in a cubicle, despite her being a senior correspondent. He gave her office to his secretary, Mitzi, who Ginny was sure he was shagging on the side. She was just a simpleminded, little tart; Ginny didn’t really give a good damn about her.
“They say life begins at thirty,” Ginny thought rather morosely. “Whoever ‘they’ are, didn’t have Peter Parkinson as their boss. My life feels like it’s over already.”
Ginny sighed and thought again about quitting, as she had several times during the last year. Harry had plenty of money, she really didn’t need to work. He had said after Lily was born that if she truly wanted to be a stay-at-home mother it was just fine with him. His inheritance and his salary as head of the Aurors gave them a very handsome income.
However, Ginny had been making good money under her old boss. Of course, Peter said that her annual review was due soon and that she should expect a ‘significant’ pay cut since her writing had deteriorated and her fans had finally realized that she was relying on her name, not her talents.
Did she want to be a ‘stay-at-home’ mother, just like her own? She had nothing but admiration for her mother for raising her and her six brothers on what for years was her father’s rather meager salary, until he finally got promoted after she’d started at Hogwarts. But, she didn’t want to BE her mother.
She loved her three children, loved them deeply and absolutely, but they had come so fast once she and Harry decided it was time to start a family. They had had some fearsome arguments, and even a couple of bitter separations earlier in their relationship, over Harry’s desire for children and her own desire to have a career. All their friends knew about these, but rarely, if ever, mentioned them.
“Of course they all know about them,” Ginny thought with both a smile and a sigh. “Harry and I slept with most of them.”
It was true. She had slept with more than a dozen other men. Harry had slept with probably at least two dozen other witches. They both now deeply regretted the foolish anger and stubborn pride that had made them want to hurt each other so badly.
++
She had been a star chaser for the Harpies and had been instrumental in making her team the British entry into the 2004 Quidditch World Cup. They had shocked the Quidditch world with their upsets of Ireland, Italy and France in the preliminaries. Then, during the final with the pre-tournament favorite, the Bulgarians, Helen Jones, their seeker and Gwenog’s cousin, had been bludgered off her broom and badly injured. Ginny had had to take over and in a stunning display of aerial acrobatics and sheer athleticism, had grabbed the snitch literally out of the hands of none other than Viktor Krum, winning the World Cup for Britain for the first time in nearly a century by ten points.
Afterwards, she revealed that she was almost two months pregnant with her first child. She had kept it a secret because she knew Harry - and her brothers - would have insisted she stop playing, but she wanted the World Cup and she had gotten it.
James was conceived in the showers in the Harpies’ locker room after the win that insured the Harpies would win the British championship and be the representative in the World Cup. She had been so deliriously happy, that when Harry ‘invaded’ the locker room (none of her teammates minded in the least, of course), she had forgotten the charm and gotten knocked up.
James was born the next January and she had worked hard to get into shape for the next Quidditch season. She had been doing well when she went crazy for Harry’s costume for that year’s Halloween party at Luna’s and had shagged him senseless, again forgetting the charm and, yes, getting knocked up again. Albus was born the next July, on Harry’s birthday. Harry said he had never had a better present.
Then at the Ministry’s 2007 New Year’s Eve Ball, Kingsley had announced Harry’s promotion to be head of the Aurors. She had rewarded him with a night of passionate sex and, yes, had forgotten the charm and gotten knocked up once more. Lily was born in September, on the nineteenth, in fact. Hermione was just tickled pink and had Ron get her pregnant the same week.
After Lily’s birth, Ginny realized she probably couldn’t get her body back into the condition it needed to be in to play Quidditch, so after a few months of self-pity and postpartum depression, she decided that if she couldn’t play Quidditch, she could certainly write about.
++
“Well, maybe not,” she mused unhappily. “If I could go to the bloody games, I could write about what actually happens, and not have to rely on some biased commentator’s description of the game.”
She thought about complaining to the Managing Editor. Unfortunately, he was Peter’s uncle, Alexander Parkinson, Pansy’s father.
“Oh, bugger, hell, shite, and damnation,” she muttered aloud. “Maybe I’ll let Harry knock me up again and start fulfilling Tralawney’s prediction that he’d have a dozen children.”
“Promise?” a voice behind her cried.
She turned around and stared.
“Harry?” she gasped. “What the bloody hell are you doing here?”
“I can’t stop by to see my gorgeous wife and ask her to lunch?” he smiled.
Ginny blushed, but smiled happily. “Well, I’m not doing anything good here apparently, so sure, let’s go.” Harry raised his eyebrows, then simply smiled and offered her his hand.
They walked out past Peter’s office. “Where the hell do you think you’re going, Potter?” he snapped. “It’s not even noon.”
Before Ginny could answer, Harry gave Peter a glare that could have melted ice.
“I’m taking my WIFE to lunch, Parkinson. You have a problem with that?” Peter shook his head.
“In fact,” Harry continued, “it’s her birthday tomorrow, so she’ll be gone the rest of the week.”
Peter opened his mouth to complain, then thought better of it.
“Be here on time Monday, Potter,” he muttered. “Don’t forget it’s your review.”
Harry and Ginny exited the building, then he grabbed her into a hug, kissed her deeply, and apparated them to their house in Godric’s Hollow, directly into their bedroom.
“Harry! I thought we were going to lunch?” she said with a smile that would have done a Veela credit.
“Sex first, food later,” Harry growled, waving his wand and vanishing their clothes.
“But, the kids? Where...” she began.
“The boys are with Teddy and Andromeda, Lily’s at your Mum’s,” he told her. “They’ve promised to keep them until Sunday. Four days, all to ourselves, Ginny. Now, no more talking!”
Harry bore her down onto the mattress of their king-size four-poster bed and seized her lips with his, his tongue ravishing her mouth as his hands stroked and caressed her body. She whimpered with pleasure as her skin tingled under his touch, soft moans of delight issuing from her throat.
Their sex life was good, excellent, really, Ginny thought happily as her husband ran a finger up the already warm and wet pink slit amidst her fiery curls. True, they sometimes just slept when they went to bed these days, but Harry could still make her body pulse with passion, almost literally sing with pleasure.
It took only a few more minutes before Ginny panted, “Now, Harry, now! Please! I want you! Want you in me! Now!”
Harry rolled between her legs and entered her with one long, smooth stroke. Ginny moaned with delight as her husband’s cock spread her apart. He began his in-and-out, his fine, hard body pressed tightly to her own firm but yielding frame.
“I love you, Harry,” Ginny sighed, wrapping her legs around his arse and pushing herself up onto him hard and fast.
“I love you, too,” he gasped, kissing her with heated intensity.
The surprise midday sex had Ginny so aroused that she came quickly, crying in ecstasy as her body pulsed with pleasure, her inner muscles rippling along Harry’s shaft, forcing a hiss of pleasure from him.
“More!” she screamed, and Harry obliged, stroking her expertly, his firm body pounding into her with just the right force.
It took only a few more minutes before Ginny felt herself tighten around Harry once more as she screamed, “Yes, yes, YES! Harry! Now!”
“Ginny! Yes! Now!” he cried back as he came, spilling into her. She pulled him tightly into her body as she felt him throb and twitch deep inside her, filling her with his warm love.
They continued the motions of intercourse for another minute or two, then finally stopped, their lips linked in a passionate kiss.
Harry rolled off her with a satiated groan as Ginny reached down between her legs to stroke her very satisfied, very wet, still-tingling pussy.
“It was wonderful,” she cooed, rolling over into Harry’s shoulder, flinging a leg over one of his, and pushing her warm, wet sex against his thigh.
“And it will only get better,” he promised. “We don’t have to get out of bed at all for the next three days if you don’t want to.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Ginny murmured as she fell into a contented sleep, Harry following along a few minutes later.
Ginny awoke a few hours later to Harry’s tongue doing incredible things to her between her thighs. She moaned with pleasure as he forced it up inside her, laving her tight, silky walls expertly. He then sucked her clit into his mouth and bit it lightly, sending her over the edge.
“Gods! Yes! Harry!”
Harry grinned up at her, his lips and chin glistening with her juices. He pulled himself up on top of her and thrust himself into her slick heat once more, forcing a gasp of delight from her.
He loved her with all his considerable expertise and Ginny soon tightened, screamed, and came again. Harry followed her a few seconds later, his cock throbbing as he spilled deep inside her.
“Hmm, I could get used to doing this everyday,” she cooed, looking up into his gorgeous green eyes. “Let’s both quit our jobs and just shag all day long.”
“Sounds great,” Harry agreed, still slowly moving inside her. “Gods and demons, Gin! Damn, I swear you’re still as tight as the day I deflowered you.”
She smiled happily at his loving compliment, but knew it wasn’t true. Not after three kids and over 13 years of shagging. And not all of it with Harry, she recalled with a slight twinge of guilt. Of course, all his shagging hadn’t been with her, either, but that was all well in the past now.
“So, what now, Mr. Potter?” she sighed as Harry finally softened and fell from her sweet embrace. “Sleep, then shag again?”
“No,” he said getting up and pulling her up. “Dinner at the Imperial, THEN more shagging.”
Ginny gasped. The Imperial was the finest - and most expensive - restaurant in Wizarding Europe. Usually only people like the Malfoys and Parkinsons and Greengrasses could afford to go there.
“Harry, really?”
“Of course,” she said, hugging her tenderly. “I may not be as rich as the Malfoys, but I can certainly afford to spoil my favorite redhead!”
A very entertaining shower followed, Harry soaping Ginny to yet another orgasm. She couldn’t believe she had just come for the fifth time in barely six hours.
“I don’t know if I can keep this up, Harry,” she gasped as her body shook in his arms.
“Dinner will perk you up, my redheaded houri, don’t worry,” her husband growled lustfully.
The dinner was magnificent, Ginny couldn’t remember ever having such incredible food. Dinner became even more interesting when none other than Draco and Astoria Malfoy were seated at the table next to them.
The two couples were not ‘friends,’ but Harry and Draco had numerous professional contacts and were always perfectly civil with each other in public. Also, Harry’s promotion to be head of the Aurors had put them into a social position that required that the Malfoys at least extend an invitation to them for their New Year’s Eve ball. Two years ago they actually attended. It was a very tense, but surprisingly enjoyable evening, and Ginny and Astoria had actually talked for over an hour. The Greengrasses, although purebloods and Slytherins, had never supported Voldemort, and Astoria and her sister, Daphne, were kept out of Hogwarts during the year that Snape and the Carrows were in charge.
They conversed politely for several minutes, asking after each other’s children, then Harry and Ginny took their leave, Flooing back home and after an appropriate amount of time to digest their marvelous dinners, were back in bed and shagging furiously.
It was just past midnight, Ginny had already come twice and Harry was still going strong. He looked down into his wife’s beautiful brown eyes, her face flushed and crinkled from their passion and whispered, “Happy Thirtieth Birthday, my gorgeous redhead.”
Ginny simply beamed with pleasure, then came again as Harry yelled, pounding into her hard and coming himself a few seconds later.
Ginny couldn’t believe it when some six hours later as dawn crept through the bedroom windows Harry snuggled up behind her, reached around and stroked her for several minutes, and then nudging her legs apart, was inside her once again.
“Harry, good gods, Harry!”
He lifted them up onto their knees, his chest pressed into her back, one hand fondling her breasts, the other stroking the throbbing nub amidst her flaming curls as his wonderful cock pushed deeper and deeper into her.
He silently summoned the full-length floor mirror to the side of the bed so they could actually watch as his cock moved in and out of her.
“Harry, oh, Merlin, Harry!” she whined and whimpered as she came, his fingers on her nipples and clit driving her mad with desire.
They had made love this way a lot when they had first started living together after she had finished at Hogwarts. Harry said he had to watch because he simply couldn’t believe that a witch as gorgeous as her was actually letting him ‘fuck her a like a one Knut whore.’ Ginny would blush a bit at that, but dirty talk always turned her on.
“Remember how it was when you played for the Harpies,” he breathed in her ear, his fingers never stopping. “That bald snatch of yours just drove me spare, made me want to fuck you for hours and hours!”
Like most female professional Quidditch players, Ginny had shaved her pubic area while she was playing regularly. It was simply more comfortable and hygienic when one often spent hours on a broom almost everyday. And having a teammate do it for her often led to other delightful activities.
“I...I thought you liked my...my ‘flaming red pussy,’” she gasped, her body tensing in preparation for another orgasm. It was just so incredibly erotic to actually watch Harry moving in and out of her.
“I do,” he growled, smiling as she tightened around him, her juices literally flowing down her pale, shapely, freckled thighs. “But, I could see myself fucking you so much more clearly when your quim was naked.”
She shivered again with passion and delight, wishing she could turn thirty every week.
After two more orgasms, she was begging Harry to fill her.
“One more,” he demanded, a cruel smile on his lips. “One more, or...or I’ll pull out. Leave you dangling!”
Ginny groaned but held on, and as she came an incredible fifth time, she moaned even louder as Harry’s wonderful love, all warm and wet, splashed inside her, filling her.
“You’re sexier and hotter now at thirty than you were at twenty,” Harry growled, nipping her earlobe and squeezing her nipples.
“I’m not, I’m not,” Ginny began weeping. “Look at me. I’m fat and flabby, my boobs sag, my arse is too big...”
“Gin!” Harry said lovingly, turning her head and kissing her passionately. “How can you say that? It’s true, you’re sexier than ever!”
“I’m glad you think I’m sexy,” she sniffled. “At least I have that, even though nothing else seems to be going that great.”
“Oh, I see,” Harry smiled, drawing another gasp from her as he squeezed her clit hard. “What’s bothering my gorgeous redhead, hmm?”
“I may lose my job, or at least take a big pay cut,” she wept.
“Money’s not an issue, Gin, you know that. Why on earth would you be losing your job? Your writing is a good as ever.”
“Not according to Peter,” she cried. “All the letters he shows me complain about not writing enough about someone’s team. How can I when he won’t let me go to games?”
“As I said, your writing is still top notch,” Harry assured her, finally softening and falling from her. He laid them down and wrapped his arms around her.
“How long has this been going on, Gin?”
“About a year,” she said, still crying softly.
“Isn’t that when Peter took over?” Harry inquired. “Sounds like a failure on management’s part to me, Gin.”
“I used to get ten, twenty, twenty-five letters a day from fans,” Ginny complained. “Now, all I see are two or three and they’re all complaints.”
“That can’t be right,” Harry insisted. “Everyone at the office loves your writing. Hell, Billingsly says he writes you a fan letter every couple of days.”
“They’re just sucking up to you, Harry, you know that,” she answered despondently.
“I don’t tolerate suck ups, Gin, you know that,” Harry said forcefully, hugging her a little tighter. “Maybe that kid in the mailroom is messing up, you know, losing letters or something.”
“Jimmy? No, he’s very competent. I think he has a crush on me,” Ginny said, smiling just a little.
“Well, he has good taste, at least,” Harry said, kissing up her neck and making her shiver. “Does he say anything when he delivers your mail?”
“He doesn’t do that anymore. Peter picks up all the mail for features.”
“Hmm?” Harry’s ‘investigator’ senses started twitching. “Peter, he’s Pansy Parkinson’s cousin, right?”
“Yes, and his uncle, Alexander, Pansy’s father, is the Managing Editor.”
“I sense a dark plot at work here,” Harry said with a smile. “I’d best investigate.”
“Don’t you dare!. I can take care of myself, Harry, you know I can.”
“I know, luv. Oh, what the hell?” he growled as an owl tapped at their window. Harry got up, opened the window, took the letter, gave the owl a treat and watched it fly off.
“Don’t tell me, an emergency,” Ginny sighed.
“No, not that bad,” Harry said. “Kingsley needs to talk to me tomorrow morning before he goes to the Continent. He also sends his birthday greetings and apologizes that he won’t be at the party Saturday. No, we get to shag all day today!”
“Is that my only present?” Ginny pouted, sticking her delightful, pointy, pink tongue out at her husband.
“What more could a little, redheaded trollop like you possibly want than to be shagged senseless every six hours?” he asked with his best leer.
“Oh, diamonds, mink coats, trips to Jamaica,” she started, then squealed as Harry seized her lips again and her cares and worries vanished.
The rest of her actual birthday passed in a delightful manner, including three more rounds of sex and then another fancy dinner, this one at a very expensive Muggle restaurant. When they got home, Harry gave her her ‘real present,’ as he said. Ginny gasped as he fastened an amazing diamond and emerald pendant around her slender neck.
“Harry, it’s too much,” she complained, staring at the deep green jewel with open-mouthed amazement.
“Nothing’s too much for you, Gin,” he said, kissing her behind her ear and making her whimper.
“I’ll be very, ahh, grateful as soon as we get all these clothes off and get to the bedroom, Mr. Potter,” she smiled seductively as her tongue circled her red lips.
Another round of mind-blowing sex followed. Ginny had trouble believing that they had now actually shagged eight times in barely thirty-six hours.
“Are you on some sort of virility potion,” she asked, smiling into her husband’s eyes as he continued to move himself softly in and out of her.
“You’re the only inspiration I need, Gin, my redheaded houri,” he growled sexily. “Actually, I have take a little something. I wanted to make sure that you had all the pleasure you want, all that you deserve, for your birthday. You’re the most important person in my life, you know that.”
“I know,” she sighed, a tear leaking out. “Maybe I’ll just quit my job and you can get me pregnant again so you can have the dozen kids that Tralawney predicted.”
Harry laughed, kissed her deeply, then reluctantly rolled from between her legs and pulled her into a hug.
“I’d be delighted, but what do YOU want, Ginny? Maybe you can talk to Jimmy tomorrow morning, since I have to go to the Ministry,” Harry suggested. “Yeah, do that and we can have lunch together. Kingsley’s promised that he won’t keep me past noon. He knows how important this birthday of yours is to me. I want you to know that I still love you so very, very, VERY much, Ginevra Potter!”
Ginny just cried, sobbing on Harry’s chest that she didn’t deserve such a wonderful husband.
“I’m such a bad wife, I didn’t do anything like this for your thirtieth birthday,” she said sadly.
“You and the kids fixed me a wonderful dinner and a fabulous cake,” he reminded her. “Then you shagged me senseless - twice - that night! You have no idea how many favors I called in to get rid of the kids this weekend. Of course, threatening people with Azkaban...”
“Oh, you didn’t!” Ginny laughed, wiping her tears away and smiling her beautiful smile. “You threatened my mother with Azkaban? I’m surprised your bollocks are still where they belong!”
“No, I threatened your father with Azkaban and told your mother that meant no sex for five years!”
Ginny blushed bright red. “You didn’t! Harry, I didn’t need to hear that. Oh, curse you, Harry, now I can’t get the image of my parents out of my head. Obliviate me!”
“How about another shag?” Harry suggested, his hand falling between her legs and his fingers finding her still-pulsing nub.
They made love again in the morning before Harry left for the Ministry, actually doing it in the shower for the first time in many months. With the kids around, their sex couldn’t be as spontaneous as it once was. Ginny swore that, if necessary, she’d ship the kids off to Azkaban for Harry’s next birthday.
“Gods, Harry,” she moaned as he let her lower her pale, muscular legs to the floor, his cock still tight inside her. “That was the TENTH time! Oh, gods, I’m going to borrow a time turner so we can repeat these last couple of days forever and ever!”
“Sounds good to me,” Harry laughed, kissing her warmly while he continued to knead her firm, round cheeks. “You luxuriate in the tub for a while, Kingsley’s providing breakfast. I’ll see you around noon.” He kissed her once more, then quickly dressed and Flooed to the Ministry.
Ginny did soak in the tub for a bit, another pleasure that kids made it more difficult to indulge in very often. Ginny loved her children and had been halfway serious about quitting her job and having more. Not a dozen, of course, but a couple more would be fine with her.
As she got out and started drying off, she looked at herself in the full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door. She knew she had put on a few pounds and that her tits and ass were not as firm and tight as she would like, but Harry’s sincere, loving compliments and fabulous lovemaking kept her from being too overly concerned about her appearance and desirability. She knew she was still sexy, and her figure was still as good as any of her sisters-in-law or other female friends.
She fingered herself, running her fingers through her rather wiry, messy pubic hair. She knew that her red pussy had been turning Harry on since the first time she let him see it and touch it, there by the lake at Hogwarts her fifth year. Hell, it had turned on Michael Corner and Dean Thomas when she graced each of them with quick peeks at it when she had dated them at school. Harry was the only one who had gotten to touch it, though. She was only fifteen, she remembered, though she would have happily shagged Harry back then if he had asked her.
However, Harry’s comments from yesterday morning were on her mind and after just a few more moments of hesitation and thought, she grabbed her straight razor, lathered herself up and shaved herself. She spent a long time at it, making sure she got all of the hair - on her perineum, on her mons Veneris, in her groin, even around her anus (which was tricky to do looking over her shoulder into the mirror.)
She then pulled out her Madam Magica’s Skin Softening Cream and spread it liberally all around her freshly-shaved skin. She was glad it never lost its potency. She had started using it on her hands during her Quidditch-playing days when Harry had jokingly complained that her callouses made him ‘too sore’ to shag her properly.
She relaxed on the bed for half-an-hour, letting the cream soak in. When she next stroked herself between her legs she felt as smooth as ‘a baby’s bottom,’ which she knew was a rather perverse simile. She was really surprised at how smooth she was, almost like she remembered her body feeling before she even had pubic hair. She blushed as she recalled how much she had enjoyed bringing herself to orgasm as a pre-adolescent, starting when she had been only nine years old. She had been both thrilled and embarrassed by how wonderful all her body felt after she came, but, naturally, never told her mother. Once she started at Hogwarts, many of her female friends admitted that they had done (and still did) the same thing. She laughed a bit as she recalled how noisy her dorm room could be when she and all four of her roommates would masturbate on the same night. Sometimes they even made a game of it. Unlike boys, girls rarely bothered with Silencing Charms when they pleasured themselves. Even Hermione admitted to guiltily stroking herself to occasional very quiet orgasms as she listened to Lavender and Parvati’s almost nightly cries and sobs of release when she roomed with them at Hogwarts.
She started to coax her clitoris out from under its hood, then stopped, deciding she wanted her first ‘bald’ orgasm to be from Harry’s fingers and tongue.
She dressed very chicly, thinking how nice it was to be well-off and be able to buy such nice clothes, not that they would be ‘poor’ if she quit her job. She had worn so many hand-me-downs as a child and a teenager.
She had breakfast, then Flooed to the lobby of The Daily Prophet and went to the mailroom on the lower level.
“M...M...Mrs P...P...Potter,” Jimmy stuttered as he saw. “I...I thought you were on vacation?”
“Oh, I am,” she smiled. The poor boy was mooning over her, Ginny found it very sweet and endearing, actually. “I just thought I’d look through my mail.”
“M...M...Mr. Peter has already picked it up,” he said. “You sure get a lot, you know that, M...M...Mrs Potter. As much as Ms. Vane does.”
He meant Romilda Vane, who had taken over the gossip column from Rita Skeeter about three years ago.
Ginny and Romilda still had their issues, but treated each other with professional respect. Romilda still wrote plenty of nosy, smutty gossip, but she had turned out to be a surprisingly good investigative reporter, having broken two scandals at the Ministry during her tenure so far. One was right up her alley, dealing with sex and finances; the other a much darker story, exposing an illegal trade in body parts of recently-deceased witches and wizards.
“I do?” Ginny asked, her surprise obvious.
“Oh, sure, M...M...Mrs Potter, at least twenty a day,” Jimmy told her. “I write you once a week myself. You’re such a good writer and so pretty, too! Oh, my gods, I’m sorry!” Jimmy cried, turning beet red when he realized what he had said.
Ginny couldn’t help snickering, then actually pulled the nervous young wizard into a hug.
“Thank you for the compliment, Jimmy,” she told him as he blushed even more. “Is Romilda in?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Jimmy answered, still blushing furiously. “She always comes in early on Fridays and leaves before noon. To start her weekend investigations she always tells me.”
“She’s probably investigating someone’s bed,” Ginny thought cattily. Romilda was twenty-nine, very pretty, single, affluent, had a gorgeous figure, and told anyone who would listen how much she adored sex.
“Well, thank you for the information,” Ginny smiled. “Oh, and here’s another thank you for the compliment,” she said, leaning over and kissing his cheek. Jimmy practically fainted.
Ginny carefully made her way up to the features floor and went to Romilda’s office, which was in the corner opposite Peter’s. Ginny couldn’t help but be jealous of the fact the Romilda had such a nice office. She took a breath, opened the door and strode in.
“Ginny?” Romilda said, her surprise obvious on her face as the redhead entered and then shut the door.
“Hello, Romilda, have a minute?” Ginny asked, sitting down across from her.
“Sure,” Romilda said a little nervously. “What can I do for you?”
“What’s your opinion of our boss, Peter?”
“He’s a prick, and a lousy shag to boot,” the dark-haired witch replied scathingy.
“You’ve shagged him?” Ginny was aghast.
“Of course,” Romilda said easily, but with a sneer. “He was going to fire me, said that my column had become unpopular since I was concentrating more on investigations rather than smutty gossip which, ‘is all witches want to read about anyway,’ according to him. Chauvinist pig!”
“But, Romilda,” Ginny said, truly stunned at her attitude. “Didn’t it make you feel, well, used? Taken advantage of?”
“Some, but now I have that hanging over his head,” Romilda smiled. “His wife reads my column religiously every day. Any intimation that ‘cher Pierre’ has been unfaithful and Yvette would disappear overnight, and her dowry with her!”
Yvette was Peter’s French-born wife, who Ginny knew came from an extremely wealthy family. The Parkinson clan had worked very, very hard and spent many, many Galleons to get the two of them together.
“Is he shagging Mitzi, too?” Ginny asked.
“All the time,” Romilda snorted. “Why do you think he gave her your office? Hell, put your ear to the door during lunch break. They do it near every day on the desk.”
Ginny blushed and shook her head.
“You know he wants to shag you, too, Ginny, don’t you?” Romilda asked her.
Ginny suddenly recalled Peter’s comment about being ‘open to negotiations,’ as well as other suggestive hints dropped in their conversations during the past several months.
“The bastard, I’ll cut his balls off,” Ginny seethed. “No, I’ll tell Harry, no, my BROTHERS, and let them cut his balls off!”
“Let me know when, so I can get the exclusive,” Romilda giggled. “I take it he’s threatening you with pay cuts and stuff.”
Ginny nodded. “My review is next week. Maybe I’ll tell him and his uncle to shove this job and just stay home and have more kids.”
“You’re much too independent and MUCH too good a reporter to do that, Ginny.”
Ginny was stunned at the sincerity in Romilda’s voice.
“You...you mean that, Romilda?”
“Yes, I do. Your writing is first class, it really is. I’m not that big a Quidditch fan, although,” she licked her lips, “I’m a really big fan of Quidditch players! One former Gryffindor captain in particular.”
Ginny blushed, then answered, licking her own lips, “I think I know who you mean. I’ve refined my Bat Bogey Hex, you know. I can make bats come out of all sorts of orifices.”
“I’m sure you can,” Romilda acknowledged. “If you show Alexander all your fan mail, he might overrule Peter. He’s a pompous ass, but he is fair.”
“Peter’s been stealing it, apparently,” Ginny said. “Jimmy in the mailroom says I get a couple dozen letters everyday. All I ever see from Peter are one or two and they’re always complaining that I don’t cover the writer’s team enough. If the bastard would let me go to games again...”
“Say no more, Ginny,” Romilda said. “I caught him holding back my mail months ago. I showed him the column I had written up about our little liaison. He said that it would never get printed. Then I told him I’d give it to Luna and let The Quibbler print it. Word would get to Yvette soon enough. A lot of her airhead friends read it.”
Luna now ran The Quibbler and had turned it into a true competitor to the Prophet. She still wrote about Snorkacks and Wrackspurts and Blibbering Humdingers, but she ran many ‘mainstream’ articles as well, including both Ginny’s and Romilda’s columns.
“Couldn’t he stop that? You know, exclusive rights, first refusal, that sort of thing?”
“My contact guarantees I can syndicate my column wherever I want,” Romilda said. “I’m sure yours does, too. In fact, I use The Quibbler’s syndication service. Luna gives me the full fifty percent royalty.”
The Prophet only paid her twenty-five percent, Ginny recalled, her anger rising.
“Well, she’ll be at my party tomorrow. I think I’ll change services, too,” Ginny said. “Would you like to come, Romilda?”
Romilda went wide eyed.
“Are you serious? Really?”
“Of course,” Ginny replied, smiling. “You’ve been a real help to me, Romilda. I’m sorry I’ve carried this grudge against you for so long. I...I was really impressed with your expose of the Gorman affair.”
That had been the series of columns exposing the illegal trade in magical body parts.
“How did you get all of that?”
“How do you think?” Romilda said bluntly. “I slept with him. Men love to brag after lovemaking, especially if you convince them that they were the best lover you’ve ever had between your legs. He was mediocre, at best, though,” she added with a smirk.
“Romilda!”
“I know who and what I am, Ginny,” Romilda replied easily. “Rita used her body when she was younger. A shag is an easy enough bribe to offer someone for information. But, sometimes I envy you your, well, your stability.”
“It wasn’t always so stable,” Ginny confessed.
“Oh, I’m aware of that,” Romilda twitted her. “I wish I had run into Harry during one of your splits, but he was usually shagging Luna or Verity or that what’s her name in Kingsley’s office. Oh, yes, Hillary. Tell me, Ginny, is Oliver a better shag than Harry?”
“How...how dare you!?” Ginny sputtered, blushing brightly. “I didn’t, I never...”
“Oh, bollocks, Ginny,” Romilda kept teasing. “I know perfectly well you were shacked up with Oliver at least twice. Don’t pull that prissy, goody-two-shoes Hermione crap on me.”
“No, he’s not,” Ginny finally said. “He was good, though, very, very good.”
“Was he ever!” Ginny recalled, her center warming slightly.
“So, can you come to my party?” Ginny asked again.
“I’d love to, but, unfortunately, I have a date. Well, more like a seduction,” Romilda said with a smile. “This one is in Magical Games and Sports. Fixing Quidditch matches. At least I should get to shag a few Quidditch players by the time I’m done with my investigation!”
Ginny sighed a bit, but Romilda had always loved sex. She had given up her cherry to Colin Creevey, of all people, towards the end of her fourth year, when she was only fifteen. Ginny remembered that Colin was literally floating on air until Dumbledore had been murdered and Hogwarts invaded. She knew Seamus, Dean, Michael, Justin, Ernie, Terry and even Neville and Draco had all had intercourse with her while at Hogwarts. Of course, she had had intercourse with all of them as well when she had been ‘getting even’ with Harry for not returning to school after Christmas holidays their seventh year. The memories of the final battle and all the deaths had been giving him nightmares at night in her bed and terrible visions during the day. She so regretted her foolish anger now, but Harry leaving her again had truly hurt her.
“What a year!” she recalled, both happily and very regretfully.
“How many men have you made love to, Romilda,” Ginny asked. “I’m sorry, that’s really none of my business,” she immediately apologized.
“I’m not sure anymore,” Romilda said with just a hint of sadness. “At least a hundred, I’d guess. I sometimes wish I could find someone like Harry who would love me despite my past.”
Harry had forgiven Ginny totally after their breakups, just as she had always forgiven him. They were both stubborn and knew what would hurt each other, but that was all in the past now. They had been totally faithful to each other for almost eight years now.
“I didn’t deserve it,” Ginny sniffled. “I’ve always regretted how much I hurt Harry.”
“He hurt you, too, don’t deny it,” Romilda said sympathetically. “You were what you were then. But, this is now. How many men have you made love to?” Romilda asked with a big grin.
“Oh, a dozen I guess, maybe a couple more,” Ginny sighed. “It doesn’t matter. As you said, it’s all in the past now, water over the dam. Thank you so much for...for talking with me. Could we have lunch together next week?”
“Love to,” Romilda said with genuine pleasure. “Also, Thursday evenings I have my gossip circle at The Ruby Slippers. All my various sources.
“Isn’t that a lesbian pub?”
“Yes, is that a problem?” Romilda said. “I shouldn’t think it would bother you!”
“No, it doesn’t,” Ginny said. Like most female Quidditch players, Ginny had occasionally indulged in same-sex lovemaking with her teammates. Harry was aware of this, and while not thrilled with her same-sex affairs, never interfered with her. However, she had broken off all her lesbian relationships, except with Luna, before she and Harry were married. Apparently Romilda would sleep with a source of either sex.
“Well, come if you can, but, yes, I’d definitely like to have lunch together once in a while,” Romilda said, getting up and putting on her robe. “Well, I have to run, lunch date. It’s been a real treat. Stick it to Peter Monday, stick it to him hard!”
“I will,” Ginny promised, surprising herself and Romilda as she hugged the taller woman.
Romilda leaned over and kissed Ginny. Just a short, but very warm and inviting kiss, making the redhead gasp and blush.
“Maybe I should seduce you,” Romilda laughed at Ginny’s red face. “I’m sure Harry tells you all sorts of neat stuff!”
“I’m afraid our pillow talk is very boring these days,” Ginny smiled, her lips still tingling. “It’s mostly about the children and about how much we wish we had the energy to shag before we fall asleep.”
She left the building with Romilda, and as the tall, dark-haired witch walked away, her head danced with visions of the two of them naked in bed, their tongues delving into each other’s warm, wet, private places.
Ginny shook her head to clear the erotic vision, then walked over to the Ministry. It was only around eleven o’clock, so she went to Magical Law Enforcement and found Hermione buried in a book, as usual
Her sister-in-law’s frizzy, still-uncontrollable hair was pulled up in a bun, her wand stuck through it. She was reading a hefty law tome. Hermione, just like her, had put on a few pounds since their schooldays, but still had a lovely figure. Her attitude had also changed and much for the better as far as Ginny was concerned. Where she was once so shy talking about sex, now her brown eyes would sparkle merrily as she’d embarrass Ron with raunchy talk about her sex life with her ‘redheaded stud’ while attending parties and other gatherings.
Ron, however, had become much more conservative as he got older, telling her it was ‘undignified’ to kiss and touch in public. Hermione, who once confessed that she had been so shy when she first started sleeping with Ron that she made him close his eyes until she was undressed and actually in bed with him, now loved teasing her husband with kisses and nibbles and fondling.
“Ginny!” Hermione squealed happily upon seeing her sister-in-law. “You look great!”
“You, too,” Ginny said, hugging her best friend. “Am I interrupting?”
“Nothing that serious,” Hermione assured her, sweeping some parchment off a chair and indicating that Ginny should sit down. “Another incredibly boring real estate inheritance case. Thank the gods that chauvinist jackass, Perkins, is retiring soon. MacKenzie has promised me a promotion and that he’ll put me in charge of the criminal branch when he takes over.”
“If he doesn’t live up to his promise,” Ginny grinned, “tell him I’ll Bat Bogey his bollocks off!”
“I’m sure you would,” Hermione said, sitting down. “What’s on your mind? You have your ‘I need to ask you something’ look.”
“Is it a crime to hold someone’s mail back?”
“Yes, a quite serious crime if the mail is either official business from the Ministry or other institution and, of course, if there’s money involved. Why?”
She told her about Peter withholding her mail and about Romilda’s declaration that Peter was probably trying to coerce her into having sex with him.
“Well, as your boss, he’s entitled to know what sort of mail you’re receiving, but he has no authority to withhold it. Do you have actual proof that he’s been doing this?”
“Well, Jimmy, the boy in the mailroom says I get twenty or more letters a day, but all Peter ever gives me are maybe two or three and they’re all the negative ones,” Ginny told her.
“Well, it’s Jimmy’s word against his boss, so we know how that would play out with upper management,” Hermione said bluntly. “Tell Jimmy to bring in a witness and count the number of letters you get, record it in writing, and have them both sign it. If you can build a pattern of abuse, you can get him prosecuted.”
“I don’t really want it to come to that if I can avoid it,” Ginny said. “I just want things to be like they were before Peter got there. Romilda has proof of their liaison, so he leaves her alone. Maybe I should let him make a pass at me and then sue him for sexual harassment?”
“Unfortunately,” Hermione said, “the laws about that in the Wizarding world are much less strict than in the Muggle world. You know, as well as anyone, how ‘sexual’ the magical world is compared to the outside.”
It was true. The sexual mores of the Wizarding world were much more open and tolerant than in most Muggle societies. While there was technically an ‘age of consent’ in the Wizarding world, it was highly unusual for anyone to be punished or prosecuted for simply having sex when they were younger than seventeen. Ginny had given herself to Harry nearly four months before her seventeenth birthday. It had caused a lot of problems with her family at the time, but there were never any ‘official’ repercussions. Witches at Hogwarts gave up their virginity at sixteen, fifteen, even fourteen sometimes, and rarely if ever suffered any negative consequences other than perhaps acquiring a reputation of being ‘easy.’
“Well, in that case, I’ll have to tough it out at my review,” Ginny said. “I think I’ll insist we do it with Alexander. He’s an arrogant ass, but he’s not the prick that Peter is.”
“The mail issue is your best weapon,” Hermione agreed. “Hmm, that’s right, isn’t Pansy finally getting married? To a duke or count or something?”
It was true. Pansy Parkinson was finally getting married at age thirty-one, very old for a pureblood witch of her social position. Her intended was from one of the oldest, noblest Wizarding families of Europe. It was quite a match and had cost the Parkinsons a lot of Galleons to pull it off.
“Yes, she is, Count Ulrich von Schattenbourg,” Ginny said. “I’m surprised. That class of wizards normally insist on a ‘pure’ bride.”
Pansy was anything but virginal. While she was hardly 'The Whore of Slytherin’ that Ron and Seamus and many others called her at school, she made no secret of her sexual liaison with Draco while at Hogwarts.
“Draco’s a pureblood, so since they only did it ‘a few times’- or so she claims - they’ve decided to overlook it. After all, they may have the blood and the titles, but Pansy has the money,” Hermione reminded her. “Downright medieval, that’s what it is. Hmm, but, I wonder...”
“What’s going through that devious ‘Mudblood’ brain of yours?” Ginny giggled.
“I wonder what her fiance’s family would say about her affair with Harry?”
“WHAT affair with Harry!?” Ginny screamed. “He never...”
“Oh, of course he didn’t,” Hermione said calmly, “but, well, Harry did shag a lot of other witches during your breakups. They could have been very, very discrete, you know.”
Ginny suddenly realized what Hermione was driving at. While Pansy’s ‘indiscretions’ with Draco could be overlooked because of their youth and his pureblood family, Harry was a Halfblood and all that implied to that class of people. The prejudice towards the Muggle-born and Halfbloods still existed in Wizarding Europe, even in Britain, although every magical person was now equal in the eyes of the law whatever their birth and blood status.
“Oh, my gods!” Ginny squealed, hopping up and hugging Hermione tightly. “This is a scandal that would do Rita Skeeter credit. Hmm, maybe I’ll let Romilda in on the plot. She’d be delighted to start the rumor, I’m sure.”
“She’ll probably want you to let her shag Harry in return, you know,” Hermione laughed. “Actually, I’d like to shag Harry in return!”
Ginny’s mouth fell open, then she saw Hermione’s teasing grin and bright eyes. She had once suspected that Hermione and Harry had made love to each other during one period when both she and Ron and her and Harry had all split up, but they both denied it fiercely. Despite her issues with and separations from Ron early in their relationship, Hermione had been absolutely faithful to him. Ron had not been quite so loyal, but he hadn’t shagged anywhere near the number of other witches that Harry had.
“You’d steal him away, you...you Muggle trollop, you!” Ginny laughed, hugging Hermione again.
“Oh, happy belated birthday. I’ll bring your card and gift tomorrow. You and Harry been having fun?” she asked, a knowing glint in her eyes.
“Oh, gods, have we ever!” Ginny enthused. “Ten times so far! TEN!”
“Ten times of what?” she heard her brother, Ron, ask from behind her.
“Oh, I didn’t hear you come in, Ron,” Ginny said, starting slightly.
“Auror training and all that,” Ron smirked. “Have to be able to sneak up on Dark wizards and witches, you know.”
“Yes, like you sneak up on me and lift my skirt, then slide your hand between my legs and...” Hermione said, licking her full lips.
“HERMIONE!” Ron blushed. “Not...not in front of Ginny!”
“Ron, you are married, you know,” his sister reminded him. “And, to answer your question, Harry and I have shagged ten times since about this time Wednesday. I’ve had over two dozen orgasms!”
“Oh, that’s just gross, Gin, that’s just wrong,” Ron said, letting his tongue hang out and making a disgusted face. “I’m so glad Hermione is old enough now to be more sedate and seemly about sex.”
“Oh, I am, am I?” Hermione growled, her eyes flashing at her husband. “Well, I have to run, have a meeting. We’ll discuss this later, Ronald, if I decide to be SEDATE about it!”
Hermione grabbed her briefcase, gave Ginny a one-armed hug, glared at her husband and left the room, slamming the door behind her.
“Bad move, brother dear,” Ginny said, shaking her head at Ron. “Gods, I’d think you’d have learned by now, Ron. I can’t believe you’re still that dense!”
“I guess I’m in deep Thestral dung, aren’t I, Gin?” he said, paling slightly.
“Chocolate, very fancy chocolate,” Ginny told him. “Roses - at least a dozen - and a bottle of Champagne. A very good, EXPENSIVE Champagne.”
Ron nodded, gave his sister a hug and left, shaking his head at himself.
Author: pettybureaucrat
Year: 2011
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Sex, lots of it. Mentions of past infidelities.
Words: 14400
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and locations are the property of JK Rowling
Summary: Ginny reflects on her and Harry's occasionally rocky past, sighs a bit about her less-than-perfect present, and ponders her future.
A/N: I realize this is late, but I tinkered with it a lot before I was satisfied. I know my take on Harry/Ginny's early relationship may not please everyone, but I feel that they're both such proud and stubborn individuals that such they couldn't help but to have had some serious falling outs. Also, I apologize for the lenght, but I figured turning thirty was a major milestone.
It was rising noon, August 10, 2011, and Ginny Potter sat at her desk in her cubicle at The Daily Prophet, her head lying on her arms. She had just had another stressful, unsatisfactory meeting with her boss, Peter Parkinson, the features editor.
Although still the Ministry of Magic’s mouthpiece, it had been decided two years ago that The Daily Prophet needed to start making a larger profit, so more outside investors were encouraged to buy shares in the paper. Harry and Ginny even owned some, but it was mostly the old, rich, pureblood families that had invested, and naturally, they expected something in return. The Parkinsons had invested quite a bit, so she was stuck with Peter, who was Pansy Parkinson’s cousin, as her boss.
Her old boss had sent her to Quidditch games, gave her per diem, and said she was the best sports writer he’d ever had. But, when Peter took over a year ago, he said she could write her articles from news service reports and the Wizarding Wireless broadcasts, that she had to buy her own meals, and that her writing was ‘marginal’ at best. He had shown her a couple of letters that morning complaining about her not covering the correspondents’ favorite teams in a favorable enough light.
“Straighten up, Potter,” he said, “or you’re through. Your name doesn’t impress me. Of course, I’m open to, ahh, negotiations before your review.”
Ginny was ready to Bat Bogey the odious S.O.B. and tell him to take this job and shove it, but she wouldn’t give him - or the Parkinsons - the satisfaction.
She sat up and leaned back in her rickety chair. Another change since Peter came on board. He had taken her office away and stuck her in a cubicle, despite her being a senior correspondent. He gave her office to his secretary, Mitzi, who Ginny was sure he was shagging on the side. She was just a simpleminded, little tart; Ginny didn’t really give a good damn about her.
“They say life begins at thirty,” Ginny thought rather morosely. “Whoever ‘they’ are, didn’t have Peter Parkinson as their boss. My life feels like it’s over already.”
Ginny sighed and thought again about quitting, as she had several times during the last year. Harry had plenty of money, she really didn’t need to work. He had said after Lily was born that if she truly wanted to be a stay-at-home mother it was just fine with him. His inheritance and his salary as head of the Aurors gave them a very handsome income.
However, Ginny had been making good money under her old boss. Of course, Peter said that her annual review was due soon and that she should expect a ‘significant’ pay cut since her writing had deteriorated and her fans had finally realized that she was relying on her name, not her talents.
Did she want to be a ‘stay-at-home’ mother, just like her own? She had nothing but admiration for her mother for raising her and her six brothers on what for years was her father’s rather meager salary, until he finally got promoted after she’d started at Hogwarts. But, she didn’t want to BE her mother.
She loved her three children, loved them deeply and absolutely, but they had come so fast once she and Harry decided it was time to start a family. They had had some fearsome arguments, and even a couple of bitter separations earlier in their relationship, over Harry’s desire for children and her own desire to have a career. All their friends knew about these, but rarely, if ever, mentioned them.
“Of course they all know about them,” Ginny thought with both a smile and a sigh. “Harry and I slept with most of them.”
It was true. She had slept with more than a dozen other men. Harry had slept with probably at least two dozen other witches. They both now deeply regretted the foolish anger and stubborn pride that had made them want to hurt each other so badly.
++
She had been a star chaser for the Harpies and had been instrumental in making her team the British entry into the 2004 Quidditch World Cup. They had shocked the Quidditch world with their upsets of Ireland, Italy and France in the preliminaries. Then, during the final with the pre-tournament favorite, the Bulgarians, Helen Jones, their seeker and Gwenog’s cousin, had been bludgered off her broom and badly injured. Ginny had had to take over and in a stunning display of aerial acrobatics and sheer athleticism, had grabbed the snitch literally out of the hands of none other than Viktor Krum, winning the World Cup for Britain for the first time in nearly a century by ten points.
Afterwards, she revealed that she was almost two months pregnant with her first child. She had kept it a secret because she knew Harry - and her brothers - would have insisted she stop playing, but she wanted the World Cup and she had gotten it.
James was conceived in the showers in the Harpies’ locker room after the win that insured the Harpies would win the British championship and be the representative in the World Cup. She had been so deliriously happy, that when Harry ‘invaded’ the locker room (none of her teammates minded in the least, of course), she had forgotten the charm and gotten knocked up.
James was born the next January and she had worked hard to get into shape for the next Quidditch season. She had been doing well when she went crazy for Harry’s costume for that year’s Halloween party at Luna’s and had shagged him senseless, again forgetting the charm and, yes, getting knocked up again. Albus was born the next July, on Harry’s birthday. Harry said he had never had a better present.
Then at the Ministry’s 2007 New Year’s Eve Ball, Kingsley had announced Harry’s promotion to be head of the Aurors. She had rewarded him with a night of passionate sex and, yes, had forgotten the charm and gotten knocked up once more. Lily was born in September, on the nineteenth, in fact. Hermione was just tickled pink and had Ron get her pregnant the same week.
After Lily’s birth, Ginny realized she probably couldn’t get her body back into the condition it needed to be in to play Quidditch, so after a few months of self-pity and postpartum depression, she decided that if she couldn’t play Quidditch, she could certainly write about.
++
“Well, maybe not,” she mused unhappily. “If I could go to the bloody games, I could write about what actually happens, and not have to rely on some biased commentator’s description of the game.”
She thought about complaining to the Managing Editor. Unfortunately, he was Peter’s uncle, Alexander Parkinson, Pansy’s father.
“Oh, bugger, hell, shite, and damnation,” she muttered aloud. “Maybe I’ll let Harry knock me up again and start fulfilling Tralawney’s prediction that he’d have a dozen children.”
“Promise?” a voice behind her cried.
She turned around and stared.
“Harry?” she gasped. “What the bloody hell are you doing here?”
“I can’t stop by to see my gorgeous wife and ask her to lunch?” he smiled.
Ginny blushed, but smiled happily. “Well, I’m not doing anything good here apparently, so sure, let’s go.” Harry raised his eyebrows, then simply smiled and offered her his hand.
They walked out past Peter’s office. “Where the hell do you think you’re going, Potter?” he snapped. “It’s not even noon.”
Before Ginny could answer, Harry gave Peter a glare that could have melted ice.
“I’m taking my WIFE to lunch, Parkinson. You have a problem with that?” Peter shook his head.
“In fact,” Harry continued, “it’s her birthday tomorrow, so she’ll be gone the rest of the week.”
Peter opened his mouth to complain, then thought better of it.
“Be here on time Monday, Potter,” he muttered. “Don’t forget it’s your review.”
Harry and Ginny exited the building, then he grabbed her into a hug, kissed her deeply, and apparated them to their house in Godric’s Hollow, directly into their bedroom.
“Harry! I thought we were going to lunch?” she said with a smile that would have done a Veela credit.
“Sex first, food later,” Harry growled, waving his wand and vanishing their clothes.
“But, the kids? Where...” she began.
“The boys are with Teddy and Andromeda, Lily’s at your Mum’s,” he told her. “They’ve promised to keep them until Sunday. Four days, all to ourselves, Ginny. Now, no more talking!”
Harry bore her down onto the mattress of their king-size four-poster bed and seized her lips with his, his tongue ravishing her mouth as his hands stroked and caressed her body. She whimpered with pleasure as her skin tingled under his touch, soft moans of delight issuing from her throat.
Their sex life was good, excellent, really, Ginny thought happily as her husband ran a finger up the already warm and wet pink slit amidst her fiery curls. True, they sometimes just slept when they went to bed these days, but Harry could still make her body pulse with passion, almost literally sing with pleasure.
It took only a few more minutes before Ginny panted, “Now, Harry, now! Please! I want you! Want you in me! Now!”
Harry rolled between her legs and entered her with one long, smooth stroke. Ginny moaned with delight as her husband’s cock spread her apart. He began his in-and-out, his fine, hard body pressed tightly to her own firm but yielding frame.
“I love you, Harry,” Ginny sighed, wrapping her legs around his arse and pushing herself up onto him hard and fast.
“I love you, too,” he gasped, kissing her with heated intensity.
The surprise midday sex had Ginny so aroused that she came quickly, crying in ecstasy as her body pulsed with pleasure, her inner muscles rippling along Harry’s shaft, forcing a hiss of pleasure from him.
“More!” she screamed, and Harry obliged, stroking her expertly, his firm body pounding into her with just the right force.
It took only a few more minutes before Ginny felt herself tighten around Harry once more as she screamed, “Yes, yes, YES! Harry! Now!”
“Ginny! Yes! Now!” he cried back as he came, spilling into her. She pulled him tightly into her body as she felt him throb and twitch deep inside her, filling her with his warm love.
They continued the motions of intercourse for another minute or two, then finally stopped, their lips linked in a passionate kiss.
Harry rolled off her with a satiated groan as Ginny reached down between her legs to stroke her very satisfied, very wet, still-tingling pussy.
“It was wonderful,” she cooed, rolling over into Harry’s shoulder, flinging a leg over one of his, and pushing her warm, wet sex against his thigh.
“And it will only get better,” he promised. “We don’t have to get out of bed at all for the next three days if you don’t want to.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Ginny murmured as she fell into a contented sleep, Harry following along a few minutes later.
Ginny awoke a few hours later to Harry’s tongue doing incredible things to her between her thighs. She moaned with pleasure as he forced it up inside her, laving her tight, silky walls expertly. He then sucked her clit into his mouth and bit it lightly, sending her over the edge.
“Gods! Yes! Harry!”
Harry grinned up at her, his lips and chin glistening with her juices. He pulled himself up on top of her and thrust himself into her slick heat once more, forcing a gasp of delight from her.
He loved her with all his considerable expertise and Ginny soon tightened, screamed, and came again. Harry followed her a few seconds later, his cock throbbing as he spilled deep inside her.
“Hmm, I could get used to doing this everyday,” she cooed, looking up into his gorgeous green eyes. “Let’s both quit our jobs and just shag all day long.”
“Sounds great,” Harry agreed, still slowly moving inside her. “Gods and demons, Gin! Damn, I swear you’re still as tight as the day I deflowered you.”
She smiled happily at his loving compliment, but knew it wasn’t true. Not after three kids and over 13 years of shagging. And not all of it with Harry, she recalled with a slight twinge of guilt. Of course, all his shagging hadn’t been with her, either, but that was all well in the past now.
“So, what now, Mr. Potter?” she sighed as Harry finally softened and fell from her sweet embrace. “Sleep, then shag again?”
“No,” he said getting up and pulling her up. “Dinner at the Imperial, THEN more shagging.”
Ginny gasped. The Imperial was the finest - and most expensive - restaurant in Wizarding Europe. Usually only people like the Malfoys and Parkinsons and Greengrasses could afford to go there.
“Harry, really?”
“Of course,” she said, hugging her tenderly. “I may not be as rich as the Malfoys, but I can certainly afford to spoil my favorite redhead!”
A very entertaining shower followed, Harry soaping Ginny to yet another orgasm. She couldn’t believe she had just come for the fifth time in barely six hours.
“I don’t know if I can keep this up, Harry,” she gasped as her body shook in his arms.
“Dinner will perk you up, my redheaded houri, don’t worry,” her husband growled lustfully.
The dinner was magnificent, Ginny couldn’t remember ever having such incredible food. Dinner became even more interesting when none other than Draco and Astoria Malfoy were seated at the table next to them.
The two couples were not ‘friends,’ but Harry and Draco had numerous professional contacts and were always perfectly civil with each other in public. Also, Harry’s promotion to be head of the Aurors had put them into a social position that required that the Malfoys at least extend an invitation to them for their New Year’s Eve ball. Two years ago they actually attended. It was a very tense, but surprisingly enjoyable evening, and Ginny and Astoria had actually talked for over an hour. The Greengrasses, although purebloods and Slytherins, had never supported Voldemort, and Astoria and her sister, Daphne, were kept out of Hogwarts during the year that Snape and the Carrows were in charge.
They conversed politely for several minutes, asking after each other’s children, then Harry and Ginny took their leave, Flooing back home and after an appropriate amount of time to digest their marvelous dinners, were back in bed and shagging furiously.
It was just past midnight, Ginny had already come twice and Harry was still going strong. He looked down into his wife’s beautiful brown eyes, her face flushed and crinkled from their passion and whispered, “Happy Thirtieth Birthday, my gorgeous redhead.”
Ginny simply beamed with pleasure, then came again as Harry yelled, pounding into her hard and coming himself a few seconds later.
Ginny couldn’t believe it when some six hours later as dawn crept through the bedroom windows Harry snuggled up behind her, reached around and stroked her for several minutes, and then nudging her legs apart, was inside her once again.
“Harry, good gods, Harry!”
He lifted them up onto their knees, his chest pressed into her back, one hand fondling her breasts, the other stroking the throbbing nub amidst her flaming curls as his wonderful cock pushed deeper and deeper into her.
He silently summoned the full-length floor mirror to the side of the bed so they could actually watch as his cock moved in and out of her.
“Harry, oh, Merlin, Harry!” she whined and whimpered as she came, his fingers on her nipples and clit driving her mad with desire.
They had made love this way a lot when they had first started living together after she had finished at Hogwarts. Harry said he had to watch because he simply couldn’t believe that a witch as gorgeous as her was actually letting him ‘fuck her a like a one Knut whore.’ Ginny would blush a bit at that, but dirty talk always turned her on.
“Remember how it was when you played for the Harpies,” he breathed in her ear, his fingers never stopping. “That bald snatch of yours just drove me spare, made me want to fuck you for hours and hours!”
Like most female professional Quidditch players, Ginny had shaved her pubic area while she was playing regularly. It was simply more comfortable and hygienic when one often spent hours on a broom almost everyday. And having a teammate do it for her often led to other delightful activities.
“I...I thought you liked my...my ‘flaming red pussy,’” she gasped, her body tensing in preparation for another orgasm. It was just so incredibly erotic to actually watch Harry moving in and out of her.
“I do,” he growled, smiling as she tightened around him, her juices literally flowing down her pale, shapely, freckled thighs. “But, I could see myself fucking you so much more clearly when your quim was naked.”
She shivered again with passion and delight, wishing she could turn thirty every week.
After two more orgasms, she was begging Harry to fill her.
“One more,” he demanded, a cruel smile on his lips. “One more, or...or I’ll pull out. Leave you dangling!”
Ginny groaned but held on, and as she came an incredible fifth time, she moaned even louder as Harry’s wonderful love, all warm and wet, splashed inside her, filling her.
“You’re sexier and hotter now at thirty than you were at twenty,” Harry growled, nipping her earlobe and squeezing her nipples.
“I’m not, I’m not,” Ginny began weeping. “Look at me. I’m fat and flabby, my boobs sag, my arse is too big...”
“Gin!” Harry said lovingly, turning her head and kissing her passionately. “How can you say that? It’s true, you’re sexier than ever!”
“I’m glad you think I’m sexy,” she sniffled. “At least I have that, even though nothing else seems to be going that great.”
“Oh, I see,” Harry smiled, drawing another gasp from her as he squeezed her clit hard. “What’s bothering my gorgeous redhead, hmm?”
“I may lose my job, or at least take a big pay cut,” she wept.
“Money’s not an issue, Gin, you know that. Why on earth would you be losing your job? Your writing is a good as ever.”
“Not according to Peter,” she cried. “All the letters he shows me complain about not writing enough about someone’s team. How can I when he won’t let me go to games?”
“As I said, your writing is still top notch,” Harry assured her, finally softening and falling from her. He laid them down and wrapped his arms around her.
“How long has this been going on, Gin?”
“About a year,” she said, still crying softly.
“Isn’t that when Peter took over?” Harry inquired. “Sounds like a failure on management’s part to me, Gin.”
“I used to get ten, twenty, twenty-five letters a day from fans,” Ginny complained. “Now, all I see are two or three and they’re all complaints.”
“That can’t be right,” Harry insisted. “Everyone at the office loves your writing. Hell, Billingsly says he writes you a fan letter every couple of days.”
“They’re just sucking up to you, Harry, you know that,” she answered despondently.
“I don’t tolerate suck ups, Gin, you know that,” Harry said forcefully, hugging her a little tighter. “Maybe that kid in the mailroom is messing up, you know, losing letters or something.”
“Jimmy? No, he’s very competent. I think he has a crush on me,” Ginny said, smiling just a little.
“Well, he has good taste, at least,” Harry said, kissing up her neck and making her shiver. “Does he say anything when he delivers your mail?”
“He doesn’t do that anymore. Peter picks up all the mail for features.”
“Hmm?” Harry’s ‘investigator’ senses started twitching. “Peter, he’s Pansy Parkinson’s cousin, right?”
“Yes, and his uncle, Alexander, Pansy’s father, is the Managing Editor.”
“I sense a dark plot at work here,” Harry said with a smile. “I’d best investigate.”
“Don’t you dare!. I can take care of myself, Harry, you know I can.”
“I know, luv. Oh, what the hell?” he growled as an owl tapped at their window. Harry got up, opened the window, took the letter, gave the owl a treat and watched it fly off.
“Don’t tell me, an emergency,” Ginny sighed.
“No, not that bad,” Harry said. “Kingsley needs to talk to me tomorrow morning before he goes to the Continent. He also sends his birthday greetings and apologizes that he won’t be at the party Saturday. No, we get to shag all day today!”
“Is that my only present?” Ginny pouted, sticking her delightful, pointy, pink tongue out at her husband.
“What more could a little, redheaded trollop like you possibly want than to be shagged senseless every six hours?” he asked with his best leer.
“Oh, diamonds, mink coats, trips to Jamaica,” she started, then squealed as Harry seized her lips again and her cares and worries vanished.
The rest of her actual birthday passed in a delightful manner, including three more rounds of sex and then another fancy dinner, this one at a very expensive Muggle restaurant. When they got home, Harry gave her her ‘real present,’ as he said. Ginny gasped as he fastened an amazing diamond and emerald pendant around her slender neck.
“Harry, it’s too much,” she complained, staring at the deep green jewel with open-mouthed amazement.
“Nothing’s too much for you, Gin,” he said, kissing her behind her ear and making her whimper.
“I’ll be very, ahh, grateful as soon as we get all these clothes off and get to the bedroom, Mr. Potter,” she smiled seductively as her tongue circled her red lips.
Another round of mind-blowing sex followed. Ginny had trouble believing that they had now actually shagged eight times in barely thirty-six hours.
“Are you on some sort of virility potion,” she asked, smiling into her husband’s eyes as he continued to move himself softly in and out of her.
“You’re the only inspiration I need, Gin, my redheaded houri,” he growled sexily. “Actually, I have take a little something. I wanted to make sure that you had all the pleasure you want, all that you deserve, for your birthday. You’re the most important person in my life, you know that.”
“I know,” she sighed, a tear leaking out. “Maybe I’ll just quit my job and you can get me pregnant again so you can have the dozen kids that Tralawney predicted.”
Harry laughed, kissed her deeply, then reluctantly rolled from between her legs and pulled her into a hug.
“I’d be delighted, but what do YOU want, Ginny? Maybe you can talk to Jimmy tomorrow morning, since I have to go to the Ministry,” Harry suggested. “Yeah, do that and we can have lunch together. Kingsley’s promised that he won’t keep me past noon. He knows how important this birthday of yours is to me. I want you to know that I still love you so very, very, VERY much, Ginevra Potter!”
Ginny just cried, sobbing on Harry’s chest that she didn’t deserve such a wonderful husband.
“I’m such a bad wife, I didn’t do anything like this for your thirtieth birthday,” she said sadly.
“You and the kids fixed me a wonderful dinner and a fabulous cake,” he reminded her. “Then you shagged me senseless - twice - that night! You have no idea how many favors I called in to get rid of the kids this weekend. Of course, threatening people with Azkaban...”
“Oh, you didn’t!” Ginny laughed, wiping her tears away and smiling her beautiful smile. “You threatened my mother with Azkaban? I’m surprised your bollocks are still where they belong!”
“No, I threatened your father with Azkaban and told your mother that meant no sex for five years!”
Ginny blushed bright red. “You didn’t! Harry, I didn’t need to hear that. Oh, curse you, Harry, now I can’t get the image of my parents out of my head. Obliviate me!”
“How about another shag?” Harry suggested, his hand falling between her legs and his fingers finding her still-pulsing nub.
They made love again in the morning before Harry left for the Ministry, actually doing it in the shower for the first time in many months. With the kids around, their sex couldn’t be as spontaneous as it once was. Ginny swore that, if necessary, she’d ship the kids off to Azkaban for Harry’s next birthday.
“Gods, Harry,” she moaned as he let her lower her pale, muscular legs to the floor, his cock still tight inside her. “That was the TENTH time! Oh, gods, I’m going to borrow a time turner so we can repeat these last couple of days forever and ever!”
“Sounds good to me,” Harry laughed, kissing her warmly while he continued to knead her firm, round cheeks. “You luxuriate in the tub for a while, Kingsley’s providing breakfast. I’ll see you around noon.” He kissed her once more, then quickly dressed and Flooed to the Ministry.
Ginny did soak in the tub for a bit, another pleasure that kids made it more difficult to indulge in very often. Ginny loved her children and had been halfway serious about quitting her job and having more. Not a dozen, of course, but a couple more would be fine with her.
As she got out and started drying off, she looked at herself in the full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door. She knew she had put on a few pounds and that her tits and ass were not as firm and tight as she would like, but Harry’s sincere, loving compliments and fabulous lovemaking kept her from being too overly concerned about her appearance and desirability. She knew she was still sexy, and her figure was still as good as any of her sisters-in-law or other female friends.
She fingered herself, running her fingers through her rather wiry, messy pubic hair. She knew that her red pussy had been turning Harry on since the first time she let him see it and touch it, there by the lake at Hogwarts her fifth year. Hell, it had turned on Michael Corner and Dean Thomas when she graced each of them with quick peeks at it when she had dated them at school. Harry was the only one who had gotten to touch it, though. She was only fifteen, she remembered, though she would have happily shagged Harry back then if he had asked her.
However, Harry’s comments from yesterday morning were on her mind and after just a few more moments of hesitation and thought, she grabbed her straight razor, lathered herself up and shaved herself. She spent a long time at it, making sure she got all of the hair - on her perineum, on her mons Veneris, in her groin, even around her anus (which was tricky to do looking over her shoulder into the mirror.)
She then pulled out her Madam Magica’s Skin Softening Cream and spread it liberally all around her freshly-shaved skin. She was glad it never lost its potency. She had started using it on her hands during her Quidditch-playing days when Harry had jokingly complained that her callouses made him ‘too sore’ to shag her properly.
She relaxed on the bed for half-an-hour, letting the cream soak in. When she next stroked herself between her legs she felt as smooth as ‘a baby’s bottom,’ which she knew was a rather perverse simile. She was really surprised at how smooth she was, almost like she remembered her body feeling before she even had pubic hair. She blushed as she recalled how much she had enjoyed bringing herself to orgasm as a pre-adolescent, starting when she had been only nine years old. She had been both thrilled and embarrassed by how wonderful all her body felt after she came, but, naturally, never told her mother. Once she started at Hogwarts, many of her female friends admitted that they had done (and still did) the same thing. She laughed a bit as she recalled how noisy her dorm room could be when she and all four of her roommates would masturbate on the same night. Sometimes they even made a game of it. Unlike boys, girls rarely bothered with Silencing Charms when they pleasured themselves. Even Hermione admitted to guiltily stroking herself to occasional very quiet orgasms as she listened to Lavender and Parvati’s almost nightly cries and sobs of release when she roomed with them at Hogwarts.
She started to coax her clitoris out from under its hood, then stopped, deciding she wanted her first ‘bald’ orgasm to be from Harry’s fingers and tongue.
She dressed very chicly, thinking how nice it was to be well-off and be able to buy such nice clothes, not that they would be ‘poor’ if she quit her job. She had worn so many hand-me-downs as a child and a teenager.
She had breakfast, then Flooed to the lobby of The Daily Prophet and went to the mailroom on the lower level.
“M...M...Mrs P...P...Potter,” Jimmy stuttered as he saw. “I...I thought you were on vacation?”
“Oh, I am,” she smiled. The poor boy was mooning over her, Ginny found it very sweet and endearing, actually. “I just thought I’d look through my mail.”
“M...M...Mr. Peter has already picked it up,” he said. “You sure get a lot, you know that, M...M...Mrs Potter. As much as Ms. Vane does.”
He meant Romilda Vane, who had taken over the gossip column from Rita Skeeter about three years ago.
Ginny and Romilda still had their issues, but treated each other with professional respect. Romilda still wrote plenty of nosy, smutty gossip, but she had turned out to be a surprisingly good investigative reporter, having broken two scandals at the Ministry during her tenure so far. One was right up her alley, dealing with sex and finances; the other a much darker story, exposing an illegal trade in body parts of recently-deceased witches and wizards.
“I do?” Ginny asked, her surprise obvious.
“Oh, sure, M...M...Mrs Potter, at least twenty a day,” Jimmy told her. “I write you once a week myself. You’re such a good writer and so pretty, too! Oh, my gods, I’m sorry!” Jimmy cried, turning beet red when he realized what he had said.
Ginny couldn’t help snickering, then actually pulled the nervous young wizard into a hug.
“Thank you for the compliment, Jimmy,” she told him as he blushed even more. “Is Romilda in?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Jimmy answered, still blushing furiously. “She always comes in early on Fridays and leaves before noon. To start her weekend investigations she always tells me.”
“She’s probably investigating someone’s bed,” Ginny thought cattily. Romilda was twenty-nine, very pretty, single, affluent, had a gorgeous figure, and told anyone who would listen how much she adored sex.
“Well, thank you for the information,” Ginny smiled. “Oh, and here’s another thank you for the compliment,” she said, leaning over and kissing his cheek. Jimmy practically fainted.
Ginny carefully made her way up to the features floor and went to Romilda’s office, which was in the corner opposite Peter’s. Ginny couldn’t help but be jealous of the fact the Romilda had such a nice office. She took a breath, opened the door and strode in.
“Ginny?” Romilda said, her surprise obvious on her face as the redhead entered and then shut the door.
“Hello, Romilda, have a minute?” Ginny asked, sitting down across from her.
“Sure,” Romilda said a little nervously. “What can I do for you?”
“What’s your opinion of our boss, Peter?”
“He’s a prick, and a lousy shag to boot,” the dark-haired witch replied scathingy.
“You’ve shagged him?” Ginny was aghast.
“Of course,” Romilda said easily, but with a sneer. “He was going to fire me, said that my column had become unpopular since I was concentrating more on investigations rather than smutty gossip which, ‘is all witches want to read about anyway,’ according to him. Chauvinist pig!”
“But, Romilda,” Ginny said, truly stunned at her attitude. “Didn’t it make you feel, well, used? Taken advantage of?”
“Some, but now I have that hanging over his head,” Romilda smiled. “His wife reads my column religiously every day. Any intimation that ‘cher Pierre’ has been unfaithful and Yvette would disappear overnight, and her dowry with her!”
Yvette was Peter’s French-born wife, who Ginny knew came from an extremely wealthy family. The Parkinson clan had worked very, very hard and spent many, many Galleons to get the two of them together.
“Is he shagging Mitzi, too?” Ginny asked.
“All the time,” Romilda snorted. “Why do you think he gave her your office? Hell, put your ear to the door during lunch break. They do it near every day on the desk.”
Ginny blushed and shook her head.
“You know he wants to shag you, too, Ginny, don’t you?” Romilda asked her.
Ginny suddenly recalled Peter’s comment about being ‘open to negotiations,’ as well as other suggestive hints dropped in their conversations during the past several months.
“The bastard, I’ll cut his balls off,” Ginny seethed. “No, I’ll tell Harry, no, my BROTHERS, and let them cut his balls off!”
“Let me know when, so I can get the exclusive,” Romilda giggled. “I take it he’s threatening you with pay cuts and stuff.”
Ginny nodded. “My review is next week. Maybe I’ll tell him and his uncle to shove this job and just stay home and have more kids.”
“You’re much too independent and MUCH too good a reporter to do that, Ginny.”
Ginny was stunned at the sincerity in Romilda’s voice.
“You...you mean that, Romilda?”
“Yes, I do. Your writing is first class, it really is. I’m not that big a Quidditch fan, although,” she licked her lips, “I’m a really big fan of Quidditch players! One former Gryffindor captain in particular.”
Ginny blushed, then answered, licking her own lips, “I think I know who you mean. I’ve refined my Bat Bogey Hex, you know. I can make bats come out of all sorts of orifices.”
“I’m sure you can,” Romilda acknowledged. “If you show Alexander all your fan mail, he might overrule Peter. He’s a pompous ass, but he is fair.”
“Peter’s been stealing it, apparently,” Ginny said. “Jimmy in the mailroom says I get a couple dozen letters everyday. All I ever see from Peter are one or two and they’re always complaining that I don’t cover the writer’s team enough. If the bastard would let me go to games again...”
“Say no more, Ginny,” Romilda said. “I caught him holding back my mail months ago. I showed him the column I had written up about our little liaison. He said that it would never get printed. Then I told him I’d give it to Luna and let The Quibbler print it. Word would get to Yvette soon enough. A lot of her airhead friends read it.”
Luna now ran The Quibbler and had turned it into a true competitor to the Prophet. She still wrote about Snorkacks and Wrackspurts and Blibbering Humdingers, but she ran many ‘mainstream’ articles as well, including both Ginny’s and Romilda’s columns.
“Couldn’t he stop that? You know, exclusive rights, first refusal, that sort of thing?”
“My contact guarantees I can syndicate my column wherever I want,” Romilda said. “I’m sure yours does, too. In fact, I use The Quibbler’s syndication service. Luna gives me the full fifty percent royalty.”
The Prophet only paid her twenty-five percent, Ginny recalled, her anger rising.
“Well, she’ll be at my party tomorrow. I think I’ll change services, too,” Ginny said. “Would you like to come, Romilda?”
Romilda went wide eyed.
“Are you serious? Really?”
“Of course,” Ginny replied, smiling. “You’ve been a real help to me, Romilda. I’m sorry I’ve carried this grudge against you for so long. I...I was really impressed with your expose of the Gorman affair.”
That had been the series of columns exposing the illegal trade in magical body parts.
“How did you get all of that?”
“How do you think?” Romilda said bluntly. “I slept with him. Men love to brag after lovemaking, especially if you convince them that they were the best lover you’ve ever had between your legs. He was mediocre, at best, though,” she added with a smirk.
“Romilda!”
“I know who and what I am, Ginny,” Romilda replied easily. “Rita used her body when she was younger. A shag is an easy enough bribe to offer someone for information. But, sometimes I envy you your, well, your stability.”
“It wasn’t always so stable,” Ginny confessed.
“Oh, I’m aware of that,” Romilda twitted her. “I wish I had run into Harry during one of your splits, but he was usually shagging Luna or Verity or that what’s her name in Kingsley’s office. Oh, yes, Hillary. Tell me, Ginny, is Oliver a better shag than Harry?”
“How...how dare you!?” Ginny sputtered, blushing brightly. “I didn’t, I never...”
“Oh, bollocks, Ginny,” Romilda kept teasing. “I know perfectly well you were shacked up with Oliver at least twice. Don’t pull that prissy, goody-two-shoes Hermione crap on me.”
“No, he’s not,” Ginny finally said. “He was good, though, very, very good.”
“Was he ever!” Ginny recalled, her center warming slightly.
“So, can you come to my party?” Ginny asked again.
“I’d love to, but, unfortunately, I have a date. Well, more like a seduction,” Romilda said with a smile. “This one is in Magical Games and Sports. Fixing Quidditch matches. At least I should get to shag a few Quidditch players by the time I’m done with my investigation!”
Ginny sighed a bit, but Romilda had always loved sex. She had given up her cherry to Colin Creevey, of all people, towards the end of her fourth year, when she was only fifteen. Ginny remembered that Colin was literally floating on air until Dumbledore had been murdered and Hogwarts invaded. She knew Seamus, Dean, Michael, Justin, Ernie, Terry and even Neville and Draco had all had intercourse with her while at Hogwarts. Of course, she had had intercourse with all of them as well when she had been ‘getting even’ with Harry for not returning to school after Christmas holidays their seventh year. The memories of the final battle and all the deaths had been giving him nightmares at night in her bed and terrible visions during the day. She so regretted her foolish anger now, but Harry leaving her again had truly hurt her.
“What a year!” she recalled, both happily and very regretfully.
“How many men have you made love to, Romilda,” Ginny asked. “I’m sorry, that’s really none of my business,” she immediately apologized.
“I’m not sure anymore,” Romilda said with just a hint of sadness. “At least a hundred, I’d guess. I sometimes wish I could find someone like Harry who would love me despite my past.”
Harry had forgiven Ginny totally after their breakups, just as she had always forgiven him. They were both stubborn and knew what would hurt each other, but that was all in the past now. They had been totally faithful to each other for almost eight years now.
“I didn’t deserve it,” Ginny sniffled. “I’ve always regretted how much I hurt Harry.”
“He hurt you, too, don’t deny it,” Romilda said sympathetically. “You were what you were then. But, this is now. How many men have you made love to?” Romilda asked with a big grin.
“Oh, a dozen I guess, maybe a couple more,” Ginny sighed. “It doesn’t matter. As you said, it’s all in the past now, water over the dam. Thank you so much for...for talking with me. Could we have lunch together next week?”
“Love to,” Romilda said with genuine pleasure. “Also, Thursday evenings I have my gossip circle at The Ruby Slippers. All my various sources.
“Isn’t that a lesbian pub?”
“Yes, is that a problem?” Romilda said. “I shouldn’t think it would bother you!”
“No, it doesn’t,” Ginny said. Like most female Quidditch players, Ginny had occasionally indulged in same-sex lovemaking with her teammates. Harry was aware of this, and while not thrilled with her same-sex affairs, never interfered with her. However, she had broken off all her lesbian relationships, except with Luna, before she and Harry were married. Apparently Romilda would sleep with a source of either sex.
“Well, come if you can, but, yes, I’d definitely like to have lunch together once in a while,” Romilda said, getting up and putting on her robe. “Well, I have to run, lunch date. It’s been a real treat. Stick it to Peter Monday, stick it to him hard!”
“I will,” Ginny promised, surprising herself and Romilda as she hugged the taller woman.
Romilda leaned over and kissed Ginny. Just a short, but very warm and inviting kiss, making the redhead gasp and blush.
“Maybe I should seduce you,” Romilda laughed at Ginny’s red face. “I’m sure Harry tells you all sorts of neat stuff!”
“I’m afraid our pillow talk is very boring these days,” Ginny smiled, her lips still tingling. “It’s mostly about the children and about how much we wish we had the energy to shag before we fall asleep.”
She left the building with Romilda, and as the tall, dark-haired witch walked away, her head danced with visions of the two of them naked in bed, their tongues delving into each other’s warm, wet, private places.
Ginny shook her head to clear the erotic vision, then walked over to the Ministry. It was only around eleven o’clock, so she went to Magical Law Enforcement and found Hermione buried in a book, as usual
Her sister-in-law’s frizzy, still-uncontrollable hair was pulled up in a bun, her wand stuck through it. She was reading a hefty law tome. Hermione, just like her, had put on a few pounds since their schooldays, but still had a lovely figure. Her attitude had also changed and much for the better as far as Ginny was concerned. Where she was once so shy talking about sex, now her brown eyes would sparkle merrily as she’d embarrass Ron with raunchy talk about her sex life with her ‘redheaded stud’ while attending parties and other gatherings.
Ron, however, had become much more conservative as he got older, telling her it was ‘undignified’ to kiss and touch in public. Hermione, who once confessed that she had been so shy when she first started sleeping with Ron that she made him close his eyes until she was undressed and actually in bed with him, now loved teasing her husband with kisses and nibbles and fondling.
“Ginny!” Hermione squealed happily upon seeing her sister-in-law. “You look great!”
“You, too,” Ginny said, hugging her best friend. “Am I interrupting?”
“Nothing that serious,” Hermione assured her, sweeping some parchment off a chair and indicating that Ginny should sit down. “Another incredibly boring real estate inheritance case. Thank the gods that chauvinist jackass, Perkins, is retiring soon. MacKenzie has promised me a promotion and that he’ll put me in charge of the criminal branch when he takes over.”
“If he doesn’t live up to his promise,” Ginny grinned, “tell him I’ll Bat Bogey his bollocks off!”
“I’m sure you would,” Hermione said, sitting down. “What’s on your mind? You have your ‘I need to ask you something’ look.”
“Is it a crime to hold someone’s mail back?”
“Yes, a quite serious crime if the mail is either official business from the Ministry or other institution and, of course, if there’s money involved. Why?”
She told her about Peter withholding her mail and about Romilda’s declaration that Peter was probably trying to coerce her into having sex with him.
“Well, as your boss, he’s entitled to know what sort of mail you’re receiving, but he has no authority to withhold it. Do you have actual proof that he’s been doing this?”
“Well, Jimmy, the boy in the mailroom says I get twenty or more letters a day, but all Peter ever gives me are maybe two or three and they’re all the negative ones,” Ginny told her.
“Well, it’s Jimmy’s word against his boss, so we know how that would play out with upper management,” Hermione said bluntly. “Tell Jimmy to bring in a witness and count the number of letters you get, record it in writing, and have them both sign it. If you can build a pattern of abuse, you can get him prosecuted.”
“I don’t really want it to come to that if I can avoid it,” Ginny said. “I just want things to be like they were before Peter got there. Romilda has proof of their liaison, so he leaves her alone. Maybe I should let him make a pass at me and then sue him for sexual harassment?”
“Unfortunately,” Hermione said, “the laws about that in the Wizarding world are much less strict than in the Muggle world. You know, as well as anyone, how ‘sexual’ the magical world is compared to the outside.”
It was true. The sexual mores of the Wizarding world were much more open and tolerant than in most Muggle societies. While there was technically an ‘age of consent’ in the Wizarding world, it was highly unusual for anyone to be punished or prosecuted for simply having sex when they were younger than seventeen. Ginny had given herself to Harry nearly four months before her seventeenth birthday. It had caused a lot of problems with her family at the time, but there were never any ‘official’ repercussions. Witches at Hogwarts gave up their virginity at sixteen, fifteen, even fourteen sometimes, and rarely if ever suffered any negative consequences other than perhaps acquiring a reputation of being ‘easy.’
“Well, in that case, I’ll have to tough it out at my review,” Ginny said. “I think I’ll insist we do it with Alexander. He’s an arrogant ass, but he’s not the prick that Peter is.”
“The mail issue is your best weapon,” Hermione agreed. “Hmm, that’s right, isn’t Pansy finally getting married? To a duke or count or something?”
It was true. Pansy Parkinson was finally getting married at age thirty-one, very old for a pureblood witch of her social position. Her intended was from one of the oldest, noblest Wizarding families of Europe. It was quite a match and had cost the Parkinsons a lot of Galleons to pull it off.
“Yes, she is, Count Ulrich von Schattenbourg,” Ginny said. “I’m surprised. That class of wizards normally insist on a ‘pure’ bride.”
Pansy was anything but virginal. While she was hardly 'The Whore of Slytherin’ that Ron and Seamus and many others called her at school, she made no secret of her sexual liaison with Draco while at Hogwarts.
“Draco’s a pureblood, so since they only did it ‘a few times’- or so she claims - they’ve decided to overlook it. After all, they may have the blood and the titles, but Pansy has the money,” Hermione reminded her. “Downright medieval, that’s what it is. Hmm, but, I wonder...”
“What’s going through that devious ‘Mudblood’ brain of yours?” Ginny giggled.
“I wonder what her fiance’s family would say about her affair with Harry?”
“WHAT affair with Harry!?” Ginny screamed. “He never...”
“Oh, of course he didn’t,” Hermione said calmly, “but, well, Harry did shag a lot of other witches during your breakups. They could have been very, very discrete, you know.”
Ginny suddenly realized what Hermione was driving at. While Pansy’s ‘indiscretions’ with Draco could be overlooked because of their youth and his pureblood family, Harry was a Halfblood and all that implied to that class of people. The prejudice towards the Muggle-born and Halfbloods still existed in Wizarding Europe, even in Britain, although every magical person was now equal in the eyes of the law whatever their birth and blood status.
“Oh, my gods!” Ginny squealed, hopping up and hugging Hermione tightly. “This is a scandal that would do Rita Skeeter credit. Hmm, maybe I’ll let Romilda in on the plot. She’d be delighted to start the rumor, I’m sure.”
“She’ll probably want you to let her shag Harry in return, you know,” Hermione laughed. “Actually, I’d like to shag Harry in return!”
Ginny’s mouth fell open, then she saw Hermione’s teasing grin and bright eyes. She had once suspected that Hermione and Harry had made love to each other during one period when both she and Ron and her and Harry had all split up, but they both denied it fiercely. Despite her issues with and separations from Ron early in their relationship, Hermione had been absolutely faithful to him. Ron had not been quite so loyal, but he hadn’t shagged anywhere near the number of other witches that Harry had.
“You’d steal him away, you...you Muggle trollop, you!” Ginny laughed, hugging Hermione again.
“Oh, happy belated birthday. I’ll bring your card and gift tomorrow. You and Harry been having fun?” she asked, a knowing glint in her eyes.
“Oh, gods, have we ever!” Ginny enthused. “Ten times so far! TEN!”
“Ten times of what?” she heard her brother, Ron, ask from behind her.
“Oh, I didn’t hear you come in, Ron,” Ginny said, starting slightly.
“Auror training and all that,” Ron smirked. “Have to be able to sneak up on Dark wizards and witches, you know.”
“Yes, like you sneak up on me and lift my skirt, then slide your hand between my legs and...” Hermione said, licking her full lips.
“HERMIONE!” Ron blushed. “Not...not in front of Ginny!”
“Ron, you are married, you know,” his sister reminded him. “And, to answer your question, Harry and I have shagged ten times since about this time Wednesday. I’ve had over two dozen orgasms!”
“Oh, that’s just gross, Gin, that’s just wrong,” Ron said, letting his tongue hang out and making a disgusted face. “I’m so glad Hermione is old enough now to be more sedate and seemly about sex.”
“Oh, I am, am I?” Hermione growled, her eyes flashing at her husband. “Well, I have to run, have a meeting. We’ll discuss this later, Ronald, if I decide to be SEDATE about it!”
Hermione grabbed her briefcase, gave Ginny a one-armed hug, glared at her husband and left the room, slamming the door behind her.
“Bad move, brother dear,” Ginny said, shaking her head at Ron. “Gods, I’d think you’d have learned by now, Ron. I can’t believe you’re still that dense!”
“I guess I’m in deep Thestral dung, aren’t I, Gin?” he said, paling slightly.
“Chocolate, very fancy chocolate,” Ginny told him. “Roses - at least a dozen - and a bottle of Champagne. A very good, EXPENSIVE Champagne.”
Ron nodded, gave his sister a hug and left, shaking his head at himself.