Gift for: fbo66 - Autumn Leaves
Title: Autumn Leaves
Gift for: fbo66
Author: pettybureaucrat
Pairing: Harry/Ginny; Ron/Hermione, other Weasleys and their partners
Rating: Hard R, for a lot of sex talk and one steamy scene
Word Count: ~6100
Summary: Hermione and Ron are getting married. Why is Ginny just as much a wreck as the bride?
Author's Notes: I worked in autumn leaves and colors and a wedding, though it isn’t Harry and Ginny’s.
“Ginny! Wait a minute!” I hear Hermione shout from behind me as I reach the Burrow’s back door.
I feel her tug at my long red mane, plucking out a few red and gold leaves stuck between the hairs.
“Honestly, Ginny,” she huffs. “Don’t you and Harry ever stop?”
“Sure,” I smirk, “when we’re asleep. We’ve decided any time when we’re awake is a good time to shag.”
She gives me her disapproving frown as I snicker and pull her into a hug.
“Three more days and you’ll know what it’s like, Hermione,” I remind her.
She and Ron are actually getting married. Harry and I haven’t taken that step yet, although we’ve been practicing for the honeymoon, as it were, for the last ten months or so.
“No one will think ill of you, Hermione, if you don’t want to wait anymore.”
She starts to tear up, so I sigh and hug her tighter. She’s been absolutely mental since school ended and the wedding date was firmed up and the real preparations got started. She was only slightly mental after Ron proposed during the Easter holidays. If it hadn’t been for the distraction of N.E.W.T. preparations, I’m sure the seventh-year student body would have burned her at the stake, Head Girl or no.
“You don’t know how tempted I’ve been, Ginny,” she sniffles. “But, now, I just can’t.”
Hermione is probably the only twenty-year-old virgin witch in England. Alright, I’m sure that’s not true, but I don’t personally know any other witch over eighteen who is still a virgin.
Including me, of course.
I still wonder once in a while why she and Ron never went all the way during those heady days after the Battle of Hogwarts. They snogged and fondled, drawing the ire of my mother more than once for ‘inappropriate behaviour’ in public, but Hermione’s Muggle upbringing had stressed chastity before marriage. While I don’t know the difference, she told me she’s a Roman Catholic, not an Anglican, and abstinence is a bedrock of their moral creed.
It’s not as if witches are encouraged to lose their virginity before they’ve married, or are at least in a stable, if not an actual formal relationship. Still, most witches who attend Hogwarts are no longer virgin when they finally leave after their seventh year.
Of course there’s always some sex going on at school, but again, just like me, most girls prefer to lose it during the holidays when there’s less chance of being discovered or disturbed.
Did you know that the Room of Requirement is charmed to keep students from being intimate? Several couples in the D.A. discovered this during my sixth year; much to their dismay naturally.
As far as losing my virginity, it was during Christmas holidays last year. And yes, it was to Harry. Honestly, who else do you think I’d have lost it to?
Hermione huffs a little more, brushing her hand across the seat of my jeans to clean off a couple more leaves.
“I’ll bet you have dirt on your bare bum, too.” She mutters, sounding both perturbed and wistful.
“No,” I smirk again. “Just my knees. Harry was on the bottom this time.”
Harry, bless him, has really grown a pair since we first became intimate. Well, alright, he had a pair before. After all, he defeated Voldemort. But, you know what I mean.
We make it a point to try to have sex at least once every time we visit the Burrow, just to take the mickey from my brothers. My parents have grudgingly accepted our relationship, although with Ron’s impending nuptials, my mother is seriously on my case to become an ‘honest woman.’
Hermione just scowls at me as I can’t keep a snicker contained.
I open the kitchen door and let Hermione go in first. That turns out to be a bad idea as there is an altercation going on involving my brothers and Harry.
For once it’s not them harassing Harry about our relationship. Ron is being held by Harry and Bill and George by Charlie and Percy.
“How dare you say that about Hermione?” Ron shouts.
“Merlin’s bollocks, Ron.” George replies. “All I suggested was that you two get the painful part of it out of the way before the honeymoon. Think how much more fun it will be if she’s not all sore the next morning?”
Hermione blushes. It’s obvious what George is hinting at, although I suspect he might have offered the suggestion somewhat more crudely than he was doing now.
“Please!” Hermione cries. “Stop it! All of you!”
She runs up the stairs to my old room. She’s been there since school ended in June since her parents stayed in Australia and sold their house here in England. It’s not a problem since I’m not living at home any more.
“Ginny. Would you...” Ron starts.
I shake my head. “She’s your fiancé, Ron. I’d tell her you two should just go ahead and do it. You’ll both be basket cases at St. Mungo’s if this keeps up.”
He frowns at me, then, I tell him, “I’ll deal with George, here.”
George visibly pales as Ron smirks at him and heads up the stairs.
“I thought we’d all made a deal about this, George. The two of them are going to call it off if we tease them much more.”
George looks contrite. Well, as contrite as he ever can.
It’s obvious that he’s still missing Fred; his jokes and pranks sometimes have a mean edge to them that they never did before. Fred was always the happy one, the back-slapping salesman, the one who made everything a joke. George is the back office-type, the researcher. Without the leavening of Fred’s irreverent humour, George sometimes has problems keeping his digs and putdowns light.
“Sorry, Gin,” he sighs, then, pales more as Angie comes into the kitchen.
“What did you do now, George?” Angie asks.
“Hey!” He protests. “Why do you think it was me?”
Angelina rolls her eyes as the rest of us chuckle.
“When is it not you? George, you promised.”
“I’m sorry,” he says. “You know I can’t help it sometimes. They’re such easy targets.”
“As may be,” Angie says. “But, remember, he’s your brother and she’s one of your best friends. You could be sleeping on the couch if you’re not careful.”
“Hey, it’s my flat.” George argues, then, wilts under Angie’s glare.
“I’ll do my best, I promise.” He concedes.
I walk over to Harry and pull his lips to mine. He grabs my bum and hoists me up and I wrap my legs around his waist as he deepens the kiss.
“Get a room, you two.” Charlie snaps.
“Hermione and Ron are using it.” I mumble around Harry’s tongue.
He breaks the kiss and sets me down, grinning like an idiot at my brothers. Less than a year ago he was terrified to even kiss my cheek in front of them. Now, if I had the nerve, he’d probably shag me on the kitchen table.
Angie laughs and puts her arm around my shoulders. Audrey and Fleur both just blush a little. Charlie’s girlfriend, Magda, just smirks at my brother.
She’s a wonderful match for Charlie. She’s a dragon keeper just like him with half a dozen tattoos that move around her body. I wouldn’t swear that Harry didn’t come in his bathing trunks when she peeled off her robe down at the pond this past summer, revealing a body like a Greek goddess that her tiny bikini did nothing to hide. I actually licked my own lips.
Ron and Hermione come down the stairs from my room, Hermione’s eyes still glistening.
“I’m sorry.” George says. “I guess I just don’t understand why you two seem to be torturing yourselves like this. You know I didn’t mean anything by it, Ron, Hermione.”
They nod and conversation returns to normal. Well, as normal as any conversation between Weasleys can be.
After another hour or so, Harry and I take our leave. My Mum frowns, but hugs me anyway and Daddy kisses my cheek and winks at me. As we head towards the Floo Charlie scowls at us, which gets him an elbow in the ribs from Magda. Another reason I like her so much.
They haven’t been a couple that much longer than Harry and I have, but Mum lets them sleep together in his old room. When Hermione was travelling back in July I asked if Harry and I could sleep together in my old room and she like to bit my head off.
We floo to Grimmauld Place and seal it. Kreacher takes our cloaks and says he’ll have breakfast ready for us at seven, then, vanishes to wherever it is he sleeps these days. At least it’s not under the stove anymore.
Harry and I go to the master suite and get ready for bed. That consists of peeling off our clothes, taking a five-minute shower, drying each other off, brushing our teeth and hopping into bed.
Oh, I have sexy lingerie, but most nights it doesn’t make sense to put any on since Harry usually has me primed and ready within ten minutes. His tongue and fingers do things to my body, especially my sex, that I have trouble explaining to other women when they ask me what he’s like in the sack.
Yes, I am absolutely delighted to tell other witches what an amazing lover Harry is. Of course, I have no one else to compare him with, but when other girls tell me what they’ve experienced, I’m afraid to tell them what happens to me for fear that they’ll think me a liar, or they’ll murder me to get Harry between their own thighs.
I’m not exaggerating when I tell you that I get at least four orgasms every time we have sex, even if it’s one of the quickies we indulge in at the Burrow. I won’t tell you the most I’ve had, you won’t believe me. When I told Lavender and Parvati about one round of sex Harry and I shared over Easter, they simply didn’t believe me, even after I offered to take an Unbreakable Vow that it was true.
Of course, Harry tells me it’s not him, but me that’s the reason I have all these orgasms.
“I’ve read that some women are like that, Gin,” he says often as he looks up from between my legs, those emerald eyes of his stealing my breath away with the intensity of his gaze.
Harry says he’s feeling lazy tonight, so he lies on his back, his erection sticking straight up and makes me straddle him. Not that I mind in the least.
I shimmy up to straddle his face first and get me some of that amazing tongue work of his. Five minutes later and I’m screaming out my first orgasm as he slurps noisily from between my legs.
He slaps my bum and pushes me down his body. I pout just a little, then rise up on my knees, grasp his cock in my hand and line it up, then slowly sink down on him, keeping my muscles firm and tight around him until our hair meshes in a tangle of red and black as I engulf him completely within me.
I come almost immediately, my back arching and my eyes rolling back in their sockets. After a couple more minutes he touches me down there and my body shivers with release once more. I know it’s going to be a long night. He has much more staying power when he’s underneath me than when he’s on top.
As I feel my next orgasm building, I think about our first time and how it almost didn’t happen.
--
During Christmas holidays of my seventh year, Harry and I had a long talk about our relationship. When I had returned to school in September, we were still no more than friends and had not made any sort of commitment to each other.
That was mostly at my insistence. I was still a little wary of getting too intimate with Harry since he had dumped me the previous spring. He apologized sincerely though, time and time again, saying he simply wasn’t thinking clearly due to Dumbledore’s death and he truly thought that ‘breaking up’ would be the best way to keep me safe.
I told him it hadn’t worked and he admitted that it had torn his heart apart to leave me, but that damned noble nature of his wouldn’t let him do otherwise. I missed him, I did, but I was also angry at him a lot of the time he was gone.
Anyway, when we got together for the first time the day after I got home for Christmas, we had a tearful session of confessing how much we’d missed each other and that we were both being prats about our relationship. Before either of us realized it, we were in his bed, him in just his boxers and me in just my knickers.
They were plain cotton ones. I had cursed myself for not wearing my one pair of really sexy silk ones, but when Harry’s erection slipped out of the slit in his boxers, I realized it probably wouldn’t have mattered what I was wearing.
We pulled each other’s underwear off and began a truly intimate session of snogging. When he gave me my first orgasm with his fingers I knew without a doubt that I was losing my virginity that night.
When that moment arrived though, he paused and looked into my eyes with those amazing emerald orbs of his.
“I have a confession.” He said.
“Another woman.” I said. I couldn’t imagine what else it could be.
He nodded, then, said, “I don’t feel guilty and I’m not apologizing. We weren’t a couple when you left for school, were we? I didn’t feel that we were.”
I had to agree because it was true.
“Remember that diplomatic mission to France I wrote you about?”
I nodded again. It was the first time Kingsley had asked Harry to use his ‘fame’ to assist the Ministry in a diplomatic matter. Kingsley said Harry was simply ‘eye candy.’ The French representatives were curious to meet the man who’d defeated Voldemort and Kingsley said it would really help in the negotiations, so Harry agreed.
“I didn’t really have anything to do, so my French Auror escort took me around Paris and, well, we ended up at her flat.”
I was churning inside. I knew I loved Harry, but was this the sort of man I wanted to spend my life with?
He gave me a look filled with love and resignation.
“She was twenty-eight and one of the most beautiful witches I’d ever met. I was an eighteen-year-old virgin wizard all alone in Paris. What can I say? I gave in. We made love for the entire five days I was in Paris.”
“Did you ever think about me?” I asked.
“Other than when I was being intimate with Marielle, of course I did. I thought about you constantly and how much I’d have loved having you there with me. I’ve thought about little else except you and work since you went back to school. I love you, you know I do.”
I was surprised and, yes, quite pleased at Harry’s admission. I had thought about little else except him and schoolwork since September.
I looked at him closely. Did I love him enough to forgive him?
No, there was really nothing to forgive. We had not been a couple when I went back to school. We had put no restrictions on each other. It would have unfair of me to have expected him to wait for me simply because I might eventually want to be more than just friends and at some point be intimate with him.
“I understand.” I said. Then, I kissed him.
“Was she a good teacher?”
“Let me demonstrate.” He said with the sexiest leer I’d seen to that point in my life.
Great fucking Merlin did he demonstrate!
The majority of girls I’d talked with about sex told me they didn’t achieve orgasm their first time. Some said it took several, sometimes dozens of sessions before they had their first orgasm.
I swear on my mother’s grave (well, alright, she’s not dead but you know what I mean), that I had eight orgasms my first time with Harry.
As we lay panting and sweaty in each other’s arms afterwards, Harry promised that it was only us now.
“If that’s how you want it.” He added.
Then he gave me that sexy smirk I would grow to love.
“I’m sure Neville or Seamus or Dean or Michael or just about any guy at school would be delighted to help you even things up.”
I smacked his chest, then, kissed him with all the love in my soul.
“Harry, it doesn’t matter. If you want me to say I forgive you, then, I do. But, you didn’t really do anything wrong. If anything I blame myself for making you wait.”
“No, don’t do that, Gin,” he said sincerely. “I think we were fated to make love today. Everything was perfect, the stars aligned and all that. The exact perfect moment had arrived.”
He kissed me and said, “I love you. *kiss* Just you. *kiss* Only you. *kiss* Only. *kiss* You.”
--
I bring myself back to my current lovemaking session. Recalling her first night is one of the ways Harry said Marielle told him she used to help her achieve multiple orgasms. If you can bring a past orgasm to the front of your mind, not only do you come again from the memory, it intensifies the one you’re about to have.
“Oh, fuck! Harry!” I cry out as I clench around him and feel my juices flow and gather wetly where we’re joined. The former sharp slap of my skin meeting his is slowly replaced by a sort of wet squishy plop-plop.
Some unknown time later I feel Harry grasp my hips and begin to thrust up into me hard and erratic. I grind my sex onto his and come again as I feel him fill me with his warmth.
As we cuddle afterwards, kissing and touching I simply can’t imagine life without Harry now and wonder how I managed to survive without sex at school after our first time last Christmas. Well, of course we didn’t do it just that one time, but I can’t tell you how horny I was waiting for Easter holidays, and then for the end of school.
--
The morning after that event, I was sore. Damn was I sore. I wondered why since I was in great shape due to Quidditch and Harry said that was part of the reason.
“Ahh, you used muscles last night you don’t normally use for anything else, so you’re noticing them more since the rest of your muscles feel just fine.”
He gave me a smirk that rivalled the twins’ best.
“Unless you’re doing questionable things with your broom.”
I sat up on him and smacked him several times, laughing uproariously.
“You perv.” I snorted. “I’m never sleeping with you again. I’ll sleep with my broom, thank you. It doesn’t have an attitude and it can’t get me pregnant.”
Harry paled when I said this.
“Ahh, about that Gin...”
“Oh, contraception.” I smirked. “Always the witch’s concern, never the wizard’s, eh?”
“I’ll marry you if you are.”
I saw he was sincere and my heart just beat faster.
“Someday,” I said as I kissed him. “I’ve been on a potion since sixth year, Harry. You know, just in case. I’d like to have your children one day, I would. But, not when I’m seventeen.”
--
Kreacher calls through the door that it’s six-thirty and time for us to get up.
I slap Harry’s hand off my twat, then off my bum.
“No time, you oversexed lecher,” I growl, trying not to smile.
It doesn’t stop him from trying though, thank Merlin.
We shower together and I relent enough to let him bring me off once with his fingers, but steadfastly refuse his entreaties for sex.
“I’m going to be on my broom for six hours today, Harry,” I remind him. “All you’re doing is chair parade.”
He pouts since that’s not really true. He’s in the field most of the time, but recent Auror lessons have been about the bane of every bureaucracy - paperwork.
It’s Thursday and we both have tomorrow off. The wedding is Saturday and fortunately the Harpies aren’t playing until Sunday this week. Not that Gwenog wouldn’t have given me the day off, but I’m trying very hard to become a starter and missing games doesn’t help.
I suppose I shouldn’t complain about being first alternate Chaser right out of school, but I’ve always been competitive. I think I’m better than the third starting Chaser, but I haven’t convinced Gwenog yet and Mary plays all the harder to keep her spot, thus helping the team.
We have yet another of Kreacher’s excellent breakfasts, kiss more than we should at the Floo, then finally manage to leave for work.
My teammates all giggle and smirk at me as I rush in all flushed barely thirty seconds before practice is scheduled to start. I charm my clothes off and start pulling on my Quidditch gear.
I never charm my uniform on. Like most Quidditch players I have certain routines and quirks - alright, superstitions - that I’m convinced make me a better player. I always put my sports bra on first before my shorts. My left sock and shoe both go on before my right ones.
Angie wears her shorts backwards. She’s told me she did that by accident one game and scored twenty-three goals. Small wonder she was league scoring champion last season.
It’s a long, hard practice. I have a bloody nose afterwards and so does Mary Cole, the third Chaser. We’re teammates, not friends, and because she knows I want her slot we play as rough as we can get away with.
Gwenog heartily approves, by the way.
We break for lunch which is provided by the team. I thank Merlin for that because I’m usually so hungry that I’d spend most of my salary feeding myself.
Watching a table of Quidditch players eat is both fascinating and disgusting; we have little use for manners and usually shovel it in with both hands. And being a Weasley on top of everything, the other women are in awe of my appetite as well as my sex life.
“So,” Connie Ackerman, one of the Beaters asks. “How was Harry last night?”
“As virile as ever.” I answer.
“How many?” Angie smirks.
“Ten.”
The rest of the girls shake their heads. Some even heave a wistful sigh. Well, as wistfully as female jocks can sigh.
“Please,” Connie begs. “Let me have one night with him. Just one! I’ll give you my firstborn!”
“Why would I want that knee biter of yours?” I laugh. “You know, a professor at Hogwarts made a prophecy that I would have twelve children. Well, actually it was that Harry would father twelve children.”
“I’ll have a couple!” Connie declares.
“Me, too!” Phyllis Carter, the backup Keeper adds.
“I think even I might like one,” Gwenog laughs. “If it’s Harry’s.”
Gwenog swings both ways, but primarily sleeps with other women.
“So,” Connie continues, “how’s Bridezilla?”
I frown, then, just look blank.
“Bridezilla?”
Connie is a Yank and a Muggle-born, the last sort of person you’d expect to be playing Quidditch, but there you are. She goes on to explain about a bunch of Muggle motion pictures featuring some radioactive dragon-like monster that seems obsessed with destroying Tokyo and generally has an attitude that is eerily similar to Hermione’s current state of mind.
“Oh, yeah.” Antonia Love, the other Muggle-born on the team puts in. “I remember seeing some of them on the telly when I was growing up. From what you’ve told us Ginny, your friend sounds just like that.”
The banter goes on until it’s time to get back on the Pitch. By the time I floo home I’m ready to curl up and sleep until Saturday, but we have to go to the Burrow tonight.
Harry and I have sex in the shower, a mere five orgasms this time. Still, I’m relaxed by the time we’re done and floo to my old home.
Hermione is hyperventilating, so I hand her a paper bag to breathe into. Harry remembered his aunt doing this with his uncle when he would get red in the face about something Harry did.
“In and out, Hermione. Even breaths.” I say as I hold her hand.
“Now what?” I ask as she regains her composure.
“The florist says he can’t get any peonies!”
I refrain from rolling my eyes.
“Aren’t there other orange flowers?” I ask. “Carnations or snapdragons?”
“I guess,” Hermione sighs resignedly. “But, the peonies almost exactly match the shade of the leaves right now.”
I decide here and now that Harry and I are eloping.
When I whisper this to him later, he kisses me hard and squeezes my bum.
“How about tonight?”
“Hermione would jam her wand up your arse if we stole her thunder.” I giggle. “Of course, that’s true of you Ministry types anyway.”
He wrinkles his nose and slaps my bum hard, making me squeak.
“I’ll teach you manners later tonight.” He growls sexily.
“I’m a poor student, you know. It might take all night.”
“I was planning on that, actually.” His grin makes my pussy twitch as he squeezes my arse again.
“Oi!” Ron says. “Can’t you keep your hands off my sister’s bum for one evening?”
“Well, I suppose I could fondle her boobs.” Harry says sliding a hand up to just underneath my breasts.
Ron frowns, so do Charlie and Percy. George smirks and Bill just rolls his eyes.
It’s pushing eleven before Harry and I floo home. Yes, I think of Grimmauld Place as my home now since that’s where Harry is.
We do our nightly routine and I flop into bed on my back, telling him it’s his turn to do all the work tonight.
He smirks. “If this is work, why aren’t you paying me for it?”
I huff and snort, then, that tongue of his starts its magic journey from my lips to my tits to my pussy and I just lie there and sigh and moan with pleasure.
When I signal my readiness for him, he suddenly flips me over onto my stomach, then pulls my hips up and slides into me. I both love and hate this position.
I hate it because it’s submissive, something I’m definitely not, and I can’t see Harry’s face as he comes.
I love it because the angle has him hitting and stroking places inside me that other positions don’t allow, intensifying my orgasms even more.
I lose count after nine and just continue howling and screaming with pleasure; my juices quite literally running down my thighs until Harry finally spills into me and collapses onto my back, forcing us both to the mattress.
“I love you,” he murmurs as he licks my neck and nibbles at my ears while he continues to pulse inside me.
“I’d die without you,” I answer, my body sweaty and heaving from the force of my orgasms.
We have sex again in the morning since we’re going to be at the Burrow all day and maybe even have to spend the night. We’re hoping we won’t have to since it will be well nigh impossible for us to have sex there as crowded as it’s going to be.
Chaos reigns of course when we floo over. Hermione grabs my hand and pulls me up to my old room to try our gowns on yet again. Her parents are here now and her mother and mine come up with us to sigh and coo once we’re dressed.
I must admit that Hermione’s gown truly does her justice. She’s always dressed conservatively and rarely wears anything revealing other than her swimming outfits, but even they are modest when compared to the skimpy two-pieces that I and the rest of my sisters-in-law (and potential sisters-in-law) tend to wear.
The gown shows a great deal of her rather impressive cleavage, although the area is demurely covered in lace. The tight bodice emphasizes her breasts even more. The skirt actually isn’t too poufy and shows off her waist and hips quite nicely and only starts to flare out when it reaches her knees.
I’m her only attendant. It isn’t that she doesn’t have other girlfriends, but her reserved nature has always made getting close to her difficult. It’s simply because we’ve shared so much for so long that we’re as close as we are.
Harry, naturally, is Ron’s best man.
My gown is a soft green which is ideal with my skin color and hair. As lovely as the golden gown was that I wore at Fleur’s wedding, it really didn’t do a lot for my complexion.
Our mothers finish their sighing and leave and we peel off the gowns and hang them up.
“Hey, Gin. You decent?” Harry calls through the door and then waltzes right in.
Hermione squeals and looks for a place to hide as I just stand there in my bra and knickers, smirking at my boyfriend.
“Harry!” Hermione cries. “I’m...I’m...I’m....”
“You look wonderful,” Harry says with a sincere smile.
“I’m naked.” She declares.
I roll my eyes, but Harry manages not to. She’s in a slip and has her underwear on. Now, I will admit that the slip is rather sheer and her bra and knickers are plainly visible, but like Hermione herself, they’re quite conservative.
“I just wanted to see what I’m missing by not making you my girlfriend there in our fourth year.”
She blushes brightly as I burst out laughing.
“Harry...” She starts to tear up and Harry enfolds her in a gently embrace. She gasps at first, then, finally slowly begins to relax in his arms.
“You’re my favorite Muggle-born know-it-all, you realize that.” Harry says with true emotion and tenderness.
She sniffles and nods and actually wiggles herself a little more tightly to him.
“All the teasing will mean nothing by this time tomorrow.” He tells her. “I just wanted a minute or two alone with you to tell you what you’ve meant to me all these years.”
“Oh, Harry.” She cries, hugging him tightly.
Then he gives me that evil look.
“Can you leave us alone for five minutes, Gin?”
Hermione squeals, then, finally manages to giggle a little.
“I would certainly hope I’m worth more than five minutes, Harry Potter!” She declares.
We all three laugh heartily. Hermione cracking a sex joke, even one as mild as this, is a real breakthrough.
He brushes her tears away with his thumbs and kisses her cheeks. He walks over to me and squeezes my bum as he kisses me. Hermione blushes and harrumphs.
“See you all downstairs.” He says as he gives my cheeks one more squeeze.
I can see Hermione starting to hyperventilate again, so I walk over and hug her tightly.
“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” I assure her. “Really, he didn’t see that much.”
She gulps, but nods.
“You do have sexier lingerie to wear tomorrow night, don’t you?”
She shakes her head and I roll my eyes.
“Then, I’ll give this to you now. Actually, I’ve always planned to.”
I dig a small package out of my bag and hand it to her. She nervously unwraps it and her mouth drops open as the contents are revealed. She holds up the tiny, lacy thong and demi-brassiere.
“I can’t wear these.” She declares. “They’ll never fit.”
“That’s part of the idea, Hermione. Ron deserves to see you at your very sexiest tomorrow night. The colors are perfect and you’ll be amazed at how they feel against your skin.”
She nods nervously.
“Of course, I doubt if you’ll be wearing them for very long once Ron sees them.”
“Er, about that, Ginny…”
I’ve been expecting this.
“It..It hurts, doesn’t it?” She asks timidly.
“Excruciating.” I tell her. “Like the Cruciatus, but ten times worse. I ached for over a week.”
“Ginny!!”
She’s so easy to tease. I laugh and hug her.
“No, of course not.” I say rubbing her back as she starts to whimper.
“How bad is it?”
“It’s not that bad.” I assure her. “In fact, after you get used to feeling so stretched and full down there, it doesn’t hurt at all. Really, you just have to relax and enjoy how wonderful it feels. And, Hermione, it is wonderful, it truly is. It’s the morning after that’s the bitch. You’ll be using muscles that you’ve never used before since the only thing they’re used for is sex.”
I look at her.
“Do you have your hymen?” She shakes her head no.
“That’s a good thing. The girls I’ve talked with that did say it stings a lot and that it takes a while to go away.”
I smirk at her.
“What happened to your hymen, Hermione Granger? Viktor?”
Her mouth opens and closes several times as she huffs at me.
“I’ve never had one.” She says. “Lots of women don’t. What happened to yours? Harry, right?”
I don’t bat an eye.
“No, broom flying for ten years before Harry.”
She takes a deep breath and hugs me.
“About Harry, Ginny.” She starts. “Will you please, please, please not have sex right before the ceremony? I don’t know what I would feel, what I would do, when I finish walking up the aisle and stand next to you and smell all that sex on you.”
I stare at her a moment, my mouth agape.
She rolls her eyes at my expression.
“I am not totally ignorant about sexual matters, Ginny.” She declares. “Even if it doesn’t show in your eyes or on your cheeks, I can always tell when you’ve had sex with Harry. Your, er, um, your aroma is very distinctive. I’m sure the other girls recognize it. You should be glad that none of your brothers seem to, though.”
“Are you saying I stink after sex?”
“If you insist on being crude about it, then, yes.” She tells me honestly.
I’ve never really thought about it. I need to study up on cleansing and deodorizing charms.
I nod and squeeze her bum. She actually has a very, very nice one. There are times I envy her figure and wish mine was as lush.
I’m not quite five foot six and my tits and arse aren’t that prominent. She’s nearly five foot nine and full figured would describe it, I guess.
I squeeze her bum again and she huffs more.
“What are you doing?” Hermione snaps. “Stop that. I’m going to be married in less than twenty-four hours. Where do you think you are? Holyhead?”
I laugh and squeeze her once more.
“One dyed-in-the-wool lesbian and at least three bisexuals.” I admit. “You put nearly every one of my teammates’ figures to shame, Hermione.”
I get my bum pinched and squeezed in the shower after every practice. Sometimes a lot. I’ve given it the occasional thought, but I doubt if any of my teammates could bring me off like Harry does.
I mentioned thinking about it to Harry once and instead of the explosion or stunned disbelief I’d expected, he’d merely leered and asked if he could watch.
Harry and I manage to sneak off into the woods for twenty minutes before dinner, doing it up against a tree. It isn’t the most satisfactory shag we’ve shared but it will have to do.
“No sex tonight or tomorrow morning, Harry,” I tell him as I straighten my clothes, making doubly sure there are no leaves stuck in my hair or anywhere else.
“What? Why not?”
“I’ve promised Hermione.” I say. “Harry, she knows when we’ve done it. She’s begged me to not be standing next to her smelling of sex. She’s my best friend. She’s your best friend. We’ll manage, you know we will.”
He smiles and kisses me sweetly, then takes my hand as we walk back to the house.
“Oh, I sort of expected this. You’re right, we owe it to her. Besides, she didn’t say anything about not doing it during the reception, right?”
I laugh and smack his arm and begin thinking about where we can do it.
Gift for: fbo66
Author: pettybureaucrat
Pairing: Harry/Ginny; Ron/Hermione, other Weasleys and their partners
Rating: Hard R, for a lot of sex talk and one steamy scene
Word Count: ~6100
Summary: Hermione and Ron are getting married. Why is Ginny just as much a wreck as the bride?
Author's Notes: I worked in autumn leaves and colors and a wedding, though it isn’t Harry and Ginny’s.
“Ginny! Wait a minute!” I hear Hermione shout from behind me as I reach the Burrow’s back door.
I feel her tug at my long red mane, plucking out a few red and gold leaves stuck between the hairs.
“Honestly, Ginny,” she huffs. “Don’t you and Harry ever stop?”
“Sure,” I smirk, “when we’re asleep. We’ve decided any time when we’re awake is a good time to shag.”
She gives me her disapproving frown as I snicker and pull her into a hug.
“Three more days and you’ll know what it’s like, Hermione,” I remind her.
She and Ron are actually getting married. Harry and I haven’t taken that step yet, although we’ve been practicing for the honeymoon, as it were, for the last ten months or so.
“No one will think ill of you, Hermione, if you don’t want to wait anymore.”
She starts to tear up, so I sigh and hug her tighter. She’s been absolutely mental since school ended and the wedding date was firmed up and the real preparations got started. She was only slightly mental after Ron proposed during the Easter holidays. If it hadn’t been for the distraction of N.E.W.T. preparations, I’m sure the seventh-year student body would have burned her at the stake, Head Girl or no.
“You don’t know how tempted I’ve been, Ginny,” she sniffles. “But, now, I just can’t.”
Hermione is probably the only twenty-year-old virgin witch in England. Alright, I’m sure that’s not true, but I don’t personally know any other witch over eighteen who is still a virgin.
Including me, of course.
I still wonder once in a while why she and Ron never went all the way during those heady days after the Battle of Hogwarts. They snogged and fondled, drawing the ire of my mother more than once for ‘inappropriate behaviour’ in public, but Hermione’s Muggle upbringing had stressed chastity before marriage. While I don’t know the difference, she told me she’s a Roman Catholic, not an Anglican, and abstinence is a bedrock of their moral creed.
It’s not as if witches are encouraged to lose their virginity before they’ve married, or are at least in a stable, if not an actual formal relationship. Still, most witches who attend Hogwarts are no longer virgin when they finally leave after their seventh year.
Of course there’s always some sex going on at school, but again, just like me, most girls prefer to lose it during the holidays when there’s less chance of being discovered or disturbed.
Did you know that the Room of Requirement is charmed to keep students from being intimate? Several couples in the D.A. discovered this during my sixth year; much to their dismay naturally.
As far as losing my virginity, it was during Christmas holidays last year. And yes, it was to Harry. Honestly, who else do you think I’d have lost it to?
Hermione huffs a little more, brushing her hand across the seat of my jeans to clean off a couple more leaves.
“I’ll bet you have dirt on your bare bum, too.” She mutters, sounding both perturbed and wistful.
“No,” I smirk again. “Just my knees. Harry was on the bottom this time.”
Harry, bless him, has really grown a pair since we first became intimate. Well, alright, he had a pair before. After all, he defeated Voldemort. But, you know what I mean.
We make it a point to try to have sex at least once every time we visit the Burrow, just to take the mickey from my brothers. My parents have grudgingly accepted our relationship, although with Ron’s impending nuptials, my mother is seriously on my case to become an ‘honest woman.’
Hermione just scowls at me as I can’t keep a snicker contained.
I open the kitchen door and let Hermione go in first. That turns out to be a bad idea as there is an altercation going on involving my brothers and Harry.
For once it’s not them harassing Harry about our relationship. Ron is being held by Harry and Bill and George by Charlie and Percy.
“How dare you say that about Hermione?” Ron shouts.
“Merlin’s bollocks, Ron.” George replies. “All I suggested was that you two get the painful part of it out of the way before the honeymoon. Think how much more fun it will be if she’s not all sore the next morning?”
Hermione blushes. It’s obvious what George is hinting at, although I suspect he might have offered the suggestion somewhat more crudely than he was doing now.
“Please!” Hermione cries. “Stop it! All of you!”
She runs up the stairs to my old room. She’s been there since school ended in June since her parents stayed in Australia and sold their house here in England. It’s not a problem since I’m not living at home any more.
“Ginny. Would you...” Ron starts.
I shake my head. “She’s your fiancé, Ron. I’d tell her you two should just go ahead and do it. You’ll both be basket cases at St. Mungo’s if this keeps up.”
He frowns at me, then, I tell him, “I’ll deal with George, here.”
George visibly pales as Ron smirks at him and heads up the stairs.
“I thought we’d all made a deal about this, George. The two of them are going to call it off if we tease them much more.”
George looks contrite. Well, as contrite as he ever can.
It’s obvious that he’s still missing Fred; his jokes and pranks sometimes have a mean edge to them that they never did before. Fred was always the happy one, the back-slapping salesman, the one who made everything a joke. George is the back office-type, the researcher. Without the leavening of Fred’s irreverent humour, George sometimes has problems keeping his digs and putdowns light.
“Sorry, Gin,” he sighs, then, pales more as Angie comes into the kitchen.
“What did you do now, George?” Angie asks.
“Hey!” He protests. “Why do you think it was me?”
Angelina rolls her eyes as the rest of us chuckle.
“When is it not you? George, you promised.”
“I’m sorry,” he says. “You know I can’t help it sometimes. They’re such easy targets.”
“As may be,” Angie says. “But, remember, he’s your brother and she’s one of your best friends. You could be sleeping on the couch if you’re not careful.”
“Hey, it’s my flat.” George argues, then, wilts under Angie’s glare.
“I’ll do my best, I promise.” He concedes.
I walk over to Harry and pull his lips to mine. He grabs my bum and hoists me up and I wrap my legs around his waist as he deepens the kiss.
“Get a room, you two.” Charlie snaps.
“Hermione and Ron are using it.” I mumble around Harry’s tongue.
He breaks the kiss and sets me down, grinning like an idiot at my brothers. Less than a year ago he was terrified to even kiss my cheek in front of them. Now, if I had the nerve, he’d probably shag me on the kitchen table.
Angie laughs and puts her arm around my shoulders. Audrey and Fleur both just blush a little. Charlie’s girlfriend, Magda, just smirks at my brother.
She’s a wonderful match for Charlie. She’s a dragon keeper just like him with half a dozen tattoos that move around her body. I wouldn’t swear that Harry didn’t come in his bathing trunks when she peeled off her robe down at the pond this past summer, revealing a body like a Greek goddess that her tiny bikini did nothing to hide. I actually licked my own lips.
Ron and Hermione come down the stairs from my room, Hermione’s eyes still glistening.
“I’m sorry.” George says. “I guess I just don’t understand why you two seem to be torturing yourselves like this. You know I didn’t mean anything by it, Ron, Hermione.”
They nod and conversation returns to normal. Well, as normal as any conversation between Weasleys can be.
After another hour or so, Harry and I take our leave. My Mum frowns, but hugs me anyway and Daddy kisses my cheek and winks at me. As we head towards the Floo Charlie scowls at us, which gets him an elbow in the ribs from Magda. Another reason I like her so much.
They haven’t been a couple that much longer than Harry and I have, but Mum lets them sleep together in his old room. When Hermione was travelling back in July I asked if Harry and I could sleep together in my old room and she like to bit my head off.
We floo to Grimmauld Place and seal it. Kreacher takes our cloaks and says he’ll have breakfast ready for us at seven, then, vanishes to wherever it is he sleeps these days. At least it’s not under the stove anymore.
Harry and I go to the master suite and get ready for bed. That consists of peeling off our clothes, taking a five-minute shower, drying each other off, brushing our teeth and hopping into bed.
Oh, I have sexy lingerie, but most nights it doesn’t make sense to put any on since Harry usually has me primed and ready within ten minutes. His tongue and fingers do things to my body, especially my sex, that I have trouble explaining to other women when they ask me what he’s like in the sack.
Yes, I am absolutely delighted to tell other witches what an amazing lover Harry is. Of course, I have no one else to compare him with, but when other girls tell me what they’ve experienced, I’m afraid to tell them what happens to me for fear that they’ll think me a liar, or they’ll murder me to get Harry between their own thighs.
I’m not exaggerating when I tell you that I get at least four orgasms every time we have sex, even if it’s one of the quickies we indulge in at the Burrow. I won’t tell you the most I’ve had, you won’t believe me. When I told Lavender and Parvati about one round of sex Harry and I shared over Easter, they simply didn’t believe me, even after I offered to take an Unbreakable Vow that it was true.
Of course, Harry tells me it’s not him, but me that’s the reason I have all these orgasms.
“I’ve read that some women are like that, Gin,” he says often as he looks up from between my legs, those emerald eyes of his stealing my breath away with the intensity of his gaze.
Harry says he’s feeling lazy tonight, so he lies on his back, his erection sticking straight up and makes me straddle him. Not that I mind in the least.
I shimmy up to straddle his face first and get me some of that amazing tongue work of his. Five minutes later and I’m screaming out my first orgasm as he slurps noisily from between my legs.
He slaps my bum and pushes me down his body. I pout just a little, then rise up on my knees, grasp his cock in my hand and line it up, then slowly sink down on him, keeping my muscles firm and tight around him until our hair meshes in a tangle of red and black as I engulf him completely within me.
I come almost immediately, my back arching and my eyes rolling back in their sockets. After a couple more minutes he touches me down there and my body shivers with release once more. I know it’s going to be a long night. He has much more staying power when he’s underneath me than when he’s on top.
As I feel my next orgasm building, I think about our first time and how it almost didn’t happen.
--
During Christmas holidays of my seventh year, Harry and I had a long talk about our relationship. When I had returned to school in September, we were still no more than friends and had not made any sort of commitment to each other.
That was mostly at my insistence. I was still a little wary of getting too intimate with Harry since he had dumped me the previous spring. He apologized sincerely though, time and time again, saying he simply wasn’t thinking clearly due to Dumbledore’s death and he truly thought that ‘breaking up’ would be the best way to keep me safe.
I told him it hadn’t worked and he admitted that it had torn his heart apart to leave me, but that damned noble nature of his wouldn’t let him do otherwise. I missed him, I did, but I was also angry at him a lot of the time he was gone.
Anyway, when we got together for the first time the day after I got home for Christmas, we had a tearful session of confessing how much we’d missed each other and that we were both being prats about our relationship. Before either of us realized it, we were in his bed, him in just his boxers and me in just my knickers.
They were plain cotton ones. I had cursed myself for not wearing my one pair of really sexy silk ones, but when Harry’s erection slipped out of the slit in his boxers, I realized it probably wouldn’t have mattered what I was wearing.
We pulled each other’s underwear off and began a truly intimate session of snogging. When he gave me my first orgasm with his fingers I knew without a doubt that I was losing my virginity that night.
When that moment arrived though, he paused and looked into my eyes with those amazing emerald orbs of his.
“I have a confession.” He said.
“Another woman.” I said. I couldn’t imagine what else it could be.
He nodded, then, said, “I don’t feel guilty and I’m not apologizing. We weren’t a couple when you left for school, were we? I didn’t feel that we were.”
I had to agree because it was true.
“Remember that diplomatic mission to France I wrote you about?”
I nodded again. It was the first time Kingsley had asked Harry to use his ‘fame’ to assist the Ministry in a diplomatic matter. Kingsley said Harry was simply ‘eye candy.’ The French representatives were curious to meet the man who’d defeated Voldemort and Kingsley said it would really help in the negotiations, so Harry agreed.
“I didn’t really have anything to do, so my French Auror escort took me around Paris and, well, we ended up at her flat.”
I was churning inside. I knew I loved Harry, but was this the sort of man I wanted to spend my life with?
He gave me a look filled with love and resignation.
“She was twenty-eight and one of the most beautiful witches I’d ever met. I was an eighteen-year-old virgin wizard all alone in Paris. What can I say? I gave in. We made love for the entire five days I was in Paris.”
“Did you ever think about me?” I asked.
“Other than when I was being intimate with Marielle, of course I did. I thought about you constantly and how much I’d have loved having you there with me. I’ve thought about little else except you and work since you went back to school. I love you, you know I do.”
I was surprised and, yes, quite pleased at Harry’s admission. I had thought about little else except him and schoolwork since September.
I looked at him closely. Did I love him enough to forgive him?
No, there was really nothing to forgive. We had not been a couple when I went back to school. We had put no restrictions on each other. It would have unfair of me to have expected him to wait for me simply because I might eventually want to be more than just friends and at some point be intimate with him.
“I understand.” I said. Then, I kissed him.
“Was she a good teacher?”
“Let me demonstrate.” He said with the sexiest leer I’d seen to that point in my life.
Great fucking Merlin did he demonstrate!
The majority of girls I’d talked with about sex told me they didn’t achieve orgasm their first time. Some said it took several, sometimes dozens of sessions before they had their first orgasm.
I swear on my mother’s grave (well, alright, she’s not dead but you know what I mean), that I had eight orgasms my first time with Harry.
As we lay panting and sweaty in each other’s arms afterwards, Harry promised that it was only us now.
“If that’s how you want it.” He added.
Then he gave me that sexy smirk I would grow to love.
“I’m sure Neville or Seamus or Dean or Michael or just about any guy at school would be delighted to help you even things up.”
I smacked his chest, then, kissed him with all the love in my soul.
“Harry, it doesn’t matter. If you want me to say I forgive you, then, I do. But, you didn’t really do anything wrong. If anything I blame myself for making you wait.”
“No, don’t do that, Gin,” he said sincerely. “I think we were fated to make love today. Everything was perfect, the stars aligned and all that. The exact perfect moment had arrived.”
He kissed me and said, “I love you. *kiss* Just you. *kiss* Only you. *kiss* Only. *kiss* You.”
--
I bring myself back to my current lovemaking session. Recalling her first night is one of the ways Harry said Marielle told him she used to help her achieve multiple orgasms. If you can bring a past orgasm to the front of your mind, not only do you come again from the memory, it intensifies the one you’re about to have.
“Oh, fuck! Harry!” I cry out as I clench around him and feel my juices flow and gather wetly where we’re joined. The former sharp slap of my skin meeting his is slowly replaced by a sort of wet squishy plop-plop.
Some unknown time later I feel Harry grasp my hips and begin to thrust up into me hard and erratic. I grind my sex onto his and come again as I feel him fill me with his warmth.
As we cuddle afterwards, kissing and touching I simply can’t imagine life without Harry now and wonder how I managed to survive without sex at school after our first time last Christmas. Well, of course we didn’t do it just that one time, but I can’t tell you how horny I was waiting for Easter holidays, and then for the end of school.
--
The morning after that event, I was sore. Damn was I sore. I wondered why since I was in great shape due to Quidditch and Harry said that was part of the reason.
“Ahh, you used muscles last night you don’t normally use for anything else, so you’re noticing them more since the rest of your muscles feel just fine.”
He gave me a smirk that rivalled the twins’ best.
“Unless you’re doing questionable things with your broom.”
I sat up on him and smacked him several times, laughing uproariously.
“You perv.” I snorted. “I’m never sleeping with you again. I’ll sleep with my broom, thank you. It doesn’t have an attitude and it can’t get me pregnant.”
Harry paled when I said this.
“Ahh, about that Gin...”
“Oh, contraception.” I smirked. “Always the witch’s concern, never the wizard’s, eh?”
“I’ll marry you if you are.”
I saw he was sincere and my heart just beat faster.
“Someday,” I said as I kissed him. “I’ve been on a potion since sixth year, Harry. You know, just in case. I’d like to have your children one day, I would. But, not when I’m seventeen.”
--
Kreacher calls through the door that it’s six-thirty and time for us to get up.
I slap Harry’s hand off my twat, then off my bum.
“No time, you oversexed lecher,” I growl, trying not to smile.
It doesn’t stop him from trying though, thank Merlin.
We shower together and I relent enough to let him bring me off once with his fingers, but steadfastly refuse his entreaties for sex.
“I’m going to be on my broom for six hours today, Harry,” I remind him. “All you’re doing is chair parade.”
He pouts since that’s not really true. He’s in the field most of the time, but recent Auror lessons have been about the bane of every bureaucracy - paperwork.
It’s Thursday and we both have tomorrow off. The wedding is Saturday and fortunately the Harpies aren’t playing until Sunday this week. Not that Gwenog wouldn’t have given me the day off, but I’m trying very hard to become a starter and missing games doesn’t help.
I suppose I shouldn’t complain about being first alternate Chaser right out of school, but I’ve always been competitive. I think I’m better than the third starting Chaser, but I haven’t convinced Gwenog yet and Mary plays all the harder to keep her spot, thus helping the team.
We have yet another of Kreacher’s excellent breakfasts, kiss more than we should at the Floo, then finally manage to leave for work.
My teammates all giggle and smirk at me as I rush in all flushed barely thirty seconds before practice is scheduled to start. I charm my clothes off and start pulling on my Quidditch gear.
I never charm my uniform on. Like most Quidditch players I have certain routines and quirks - alright, superstitions - that I’m convinced make me a better player. I always put my sports bra on first before my shorts. My left sock and shoe both go on before my right ones.
Angie wears her shorts backwards. She’s told me she did that by accident one game and scored twenty-three goals. Small wonder she was league scoring champion last season.
It’s a long, hard practice. I have a bloody nose afterwards and so does Mary Cole, the third Chaser. We’re teammates, not friends, and because she knows I want her slot we play as rough as we can get away with.
Gwenog heartily approves, by the way.
We break for lunch which is provided by the team. I thank Merlin for that because I’m usually so hungry that I’d spend most of my salary feeding myself.
Watching a table of Quidditch players eat is both fascinating and disgusting; we have little use for manners and usually shovel it in with both hands. And being a Weasley on top of everything, the other women are in awe of my appetite as well as my sex life.
“So,” Connie Ackerman, one of the Beaters asks. “How was Harry last night?”
“As virile as ever.” I answer.
“How many?” Angie smirks.
“Ten.”
The rest of the girls shake their heads. Some even heave a wistful sigh. Well, as wistfully as female jocks can sigh.
“Please,” Connie begs. “Let me have one night with him. Just one! I’ll give you my firstborn!”
“Why would I want that knee biter of yours?” I laugh. “You know, a professor at Hogwarts made a prophecy that I would have twelve children. Well, actually it was that Harry would father twelve children.”
“I’ll have a couple!” Connie declares.
“Me, too!” Phyllis Carter, the backup Keeper adds.
“I think even I might like one,” Gwenog laughs. “If it’s Harry’s.”
Gwenog swings both ways, but primarily sleeps with other women.
“So,” Connie continues, “how’s Bridezilla?”
I frown, then, just look blank.
“Bridezilla?”
Connie is a Yank and a Muggle-born, the last sort of person you’d expect to be playing Quidditch, but there you are. She goes on to explain about a bunch of Muggle motion pictures featuring some radioactive dragon-like monster that seems obsessed with destroying Tokyo and generally has an attitude that is eerily similar to Hermione’s current state of mind.
“Oh, yeah.” Antonia Love, the other Muggle-born on the team puts in. “I remember seeing some of them on the telly when I was growing up. From what you’ve told us Ginny, your friend sounds just like that.”
The banter goes on until it’s time to get back on the Pitch. By the time I floo home I’m ready to curl up and sleep until Saturday, but we have to go to the Burrow tonight.
Harry and I have sex in the shower, a mere five orgasms this time. Still, I’m relaxed by the time we’re done and floo to my old home.
Hermione is hyperventilating, so I hand her a paper bag to breathe into. Harry remembered his aunt doing this with his uncle when he would get red in the face about something Harry did.
“In and out, Hermione. Even breaths.” I say as I hold her hand.
“Now what?” I ask as she regains her composure.
“The florist says he can’t get any peonies!”
I refrain from rolling my eyes.
“Aren’t there other orange flowers?” I ask. “Carnations or snapdragons?”
“I guess,” Hermione sighs resignedly. “But, the peonies almost exactly match the shade of the leaves right now.”
I decide here and now that Harry and I are eloping.
When I whisper this to him later, he kisses me hard and squeezes my bum.
“How about tonight?”
“Hermione would jam her wand up your arse if we stole her thunder.” I giggle. “Of course, that’s true of you Ministry types anyway.”
He wrinkles his nose and slaps my bum hard, making me squeak.
“I’ll teach you manners later tonight.” He growls sexily.
“I’m a poor student, you know. It might take all night.”
“I was planning on that, actually.” His grin makes my pussy twitch as he squeezes my arse again.
“Oi!” Ron says. “Can’t you keep your hands off my sister’s bum for one evening?”
“Well, I suppose I could fondle her boobs.” Harry says sliding a hand up to just underneath my breasts.
Ron frowns, so do Charlie and Percy. George smirks and Bill just rolls his eyes.
It’s pushing eleven before Harry and I floo home. Yes, I think of Grimmauld Place as my home now since that’s where Harry is.
We do our nightly routine and I flop into bed on my back, telling him it’s his turn to do all the work tonight.
He smirks. “If this is work, why aren’t you paying me for it?”
I huff and snort, then, that tongue of his starts its magic journey from my lips to my tits to my pussy and I just lie there and sigh and moan with pleasure.
When I signal my readiness for him, he suddenly flips me over onto my stomach, then pulls my hips up and slides into me. I both love and hate this position.
I hate it because it’s submissive, something I’m definitely not, and I can’t see Harry’s face as he comes.
I love it because the angle has him hitting and stroking places inside me that other positions don’t allow, intensifying my orgasms even more.
I lose count after nine and just continue howling and screaming with pleasure; my juices quite literally running down my thighs until Harry finally spills into me and collapses onto my back, forcing us both to the mattress.
“I love you,” he murmurs as he licks my neck and nibbles at my ears while he continues to pulse inside me.
“I’d die without you,” I answer, my body sweaty and heaving from the force of my orgasms.
We have sex again in the morning since we’re going to be at the Burrow all day and maybe even have to spend the night. We’re hoping we won’t have to since it will be well nigh impossible for us to have sex there as crowded as it’s going to be.
Chaos reigns of course when we floo over. Hermione grabs my hand and pulls me up to my old room to try our gowns on yet again. Her parents are here now and her mother and mine come up with us to sigh and coo once we’re dressed.
I must admit that Hermione’s gown truly does her justice. She’s always dressed conservatively and rarely wears anything revealing other than her swimming outfits, but even they are modest when compared to the skimpy two-pieces that I and the rest of my sisters-in-law (and potential sisters-in-law) tend to wear.
The gown shows a great deal of her rather impressive cleavage, although the area is demurely covered in lace. The tight bodice emphasizes her breasts even more. The skirt actually isn’t too poufy and shows off her waist and hips quite nicely and only starts to flare out when it reaches her knees.
I’m her only attendant. It isn’t that she doesn’t have other girlfriends, but her reserved nature has always made getting close to her difficult. It’s simply because we’ve shared so much for so long that we’re as close as we are.
Harry, naturally, is Ron’s best man.
My gown is a soft green which is ideal with my skin color and hair. As lovely as the golden gown was that I wore at Fleur’s wedding, it really didn’t do a lot for my complexion.
Our mothers finish their sighing and leave and we peel off the gowns and hang them up.
“Hey, Gin. You decent?” Harry calls through the door and then waltzes right in.
Hermione squeals and looks for a place to hide as I just stand there in my bra and knickers, smirking at my boyfriend.
“Harry!” Hermione cries. “I’m...I’m...I’m....”
“You look wonderful,” Harry says with a sincere smile.
“I’m naked.” She declares.
I roll my eyes, but Harry manages not to. She’s in a slip and has her underwear on. Now, I will admit that the slip is rather sheer and her bra and knickers are plainly visible, but like Hermione herself, they’re quite conservative.
“I just wanted to see what I’m missing by not making you my girlfriend there in our fourth year.”
She blushes brightly as I burst out laughing.
“Harry...” She starts to tear up and Harry enfolds her in a gently embrace. She gasps at first, then, finally slowly begins to relax in his arms.
“You’re my favorite Muggle-born know-it-all, you realize that.” Harry says with true emotion and tenderness.
She sniffles and nods and actually wiggles herself a little more tightly to him.
“All the teasing will mean nothing by this time tomorrow.” He tells her. “I just wanted a minute or two alone with you to tell you what you’ve meant to me all these years.”
“Oh, Harry.” She cries, hugging him tightly.
Then he gives me that evil look.
“Can you leave us alone for five minutes, Gin?”
Hermione squeals, then, finally manages to giggle a little.
“I would certainly hope I’m worth more than five minutes, Harry Potter!” She declares.
We all three laugh heartily. Hermione cracking a sex joke, even one as mild as this, is a real breakthrough.
He brushes her tears away with his thumbs and kisses her cheeks. He walks over to me and squeezes my bum as he kisses me. Hermione blushes and harrumphs.
“See you all downstairs.” He says as he gives my cheeks one more squeeze.
I can see Hermione starting to hyperventilate again, so I walk over and hug her tightly.
“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” I assure her. “Really, he didn’t see that much.”
She gulps, but nods.
“You do have sexier lingerie to wear tomorrow night, don’t you?”
She shakes her head and I roll my eyes.
“Then, I’ll give this to you now. Actually, I’ve always planned to.”
I dig a small package out of my bag and hand it to her. She nervously unwraps it and her mouth drops open as the contents are revealed. She holds up the tiny, lacy thong and demi-brassiere.
“I can’t wear these.” She declares. “They’ll never fit.”
“That’s part of the idea, Hermione. Ron deserves to see you at your very sexiest tomorrow night. The colors are perfect and you’ll be amazed at how they feel against your skin.”
She nods nervously.
“Of course, I doubt if you’ll be wearing them for very long once Ron sees them.”
“Er, about that, Ginny…”
I’ve been expecting this.
“It..It hurts, doesn’t it?” She asks timidly.
“Excruciating.” I tell her. “Like the Cruciatus, but ten times worse. I ached for over a week.”
“Ginny!!”
She’s so easy to tease. I laugh and hug her.
“No, of course not.” I say rubbing her back as she starts to whimper.
“How bad is it?”
“It’s not that bad.” I assure her. “In fact, after you get used to feeling so stretched and full down there, it doesn’t hurt at all. Really, you just have to relax and enjoy how wonderful it feels. And, Hermione, it is wonderful, it truly is. It’s the morning after that’s the bitch. You’ll be using muscles that you’ve never used before since the only thing they’re used for is sex.”
I look at her.
“Do you have your hymen?” She shakes her head no.
“That’s a good thing. The girls I’ve talked with that did say it stings a lot and that it takes a while to go away.”
I smirk at her.
“What happened to your hymen, Hermione Granger? Viktor?”
Her mouth opens and closes several times as she huffs at me.
“I’ve never had one.” She says. “Lots of women don’t. What happened to yours? Harry, right?”
I don’t bat an eye.
“No, broom flying for ten years before Harry.”
She takes a deep breath and hugs me.
“About Harry, Ginny.” She starts. “Will you please, please, please not have sex right before the ceremony? I don’t know what I would feel, what I would do, when I finish walking up the aisle and stand next to you and smell all that sex on you.”
I stare at her a moment, my mouth agape.
She rolls her eyes at my expression.
“I am not totally ignorant about sexual matters, Ginny.” She declares. “Even if it doesn’t show in your eyes or on your cheeks, I can always tell when you’ve had sex with Harry. Your, er, um, your aroma is very distinctive. I’m sure the other girls recognize it. You should be glad that none of your brothers seem to, though.”
“Are you saying I stink after sex?”
“If you insist on being crude about it, then, yes.” She tells me honestly.
I’ve never really thought about it. I need to study up on cleansing and deodorizing charms.
I nod and squeeze her bum. She actually has a very, very nice one. There are times I envy her figure and wish mine was as lush.
I’m not quite five foot six and my tits and arse aren’t that prominent. She’s nearly five foot nine and full figured would describe it, I guess.
I squeeze her bum again and she huffs more.
“What are you doing?” Hermione snaps. “Stop that. I’m going to be married in less than twenty-four hours. Where do you think you are? Holyhead?”
I laugh and squeeze her once more.
“One dyed-in-the-wool lesbian and at least three bisexuals.” I admit. “You put nearly every one of my teammates’ figures to shame, Hermione.”
I get my bum pinched and squeezed in the shower after every practice. Sometimes a lot. I’ve given it the occasional thought, but I doubt if any of my teammates could bring me off like Harry does.
I mentioned thinking about it to Harry once and instead of the explosion or stunned disbelief I’d expected, he’d merely leered and asked if he could watch.
Harry and I manage to sneak off into the woods for twenty minutes before dinner, doing it up against a tree. It isn’t the most satisfactory shag we’ve shared but it will have to do.
“No sex tonight or tomorrow morning, Harry,” I tell him as I straighten my clothes, making doubly sure there are no leaves stuck in my hair or anywhere else.
“What? Why not?”
“I’ve promised Hermione.” I say. “Harry, she knows when we’ve done it. She’s begged me to not be standing next to her smelling of sex. She’s my best friend. She’s your best friend. We’ll manage, you know we will.”
He smiles and kisses me sweetly, then takes my hand as we walk back to the house.
“Oh, I sort of expected this. You’re right, we owe it to her. Besides, she didn’t say anything about not doing it during the reception, right?”
I laugh and smack his arm and begin thinking about where we can do it.