Inner Demons - Chapter 8
Title: Inner Demons (sequel to Starting Over)
Chapter 8/60: Catching the Snitch
Author: serendipity_50
Pairings: H/G, R/Hr
Warnings: Het sex, mild profanity
Word Count this chapter: about 5,800
Era: Post-DH Pre-Epilogue
Disclaimer: The characters belong to JK Rowling. No money is being made from this fiction, which is presented for entertainment only.
Author's Notes: As always, thanks to Ashwinder and minisinoo for keeping me on my toes. Comments are encouraged from everyone.
Story Summary: Long-distance relationships are hard under normal circumstances, but Harry and Ginny don’t have the luxury of living normal lives. Their relationship is put to the test when Ginny returns to school and Harry stays behind to continue his Auror training. Ginny realizes her greatest challenge may be in coming to terms with Harry’s fame and dangerous line of work and deciding if she can make the sacrifices needed to be part of his life.
Chapter Summary: Harry returns to Hogwarts in time for the Gryffindor-Slytherin match, but Ginny reaches a stunning realization that could change everything.
~~~~~~~~~~
Ginny paced restlessly up and down the hallway in front of the gargoyle, fingers nervously working her lightning bolt pendent up and down its chain, Quidditch robes billowing with every pivot. Dean wanted the team to eat breakfast together, but she simply had to talk to Harry before the match or she’d be good for nothing.
She was convinced that Romilda was the one leaking information to the press; she just couldn’t prove it. The account of her row with Harry had made it into the Prophet in amazing detail (although the paper had been half a day late for reasons no one could explain), and the castle gossip network had been hard at work twisting and enhancing the story as the week progressed. With each passing day, her anger at Harry had dwindled and she had become increasingly desperate to touch him, to know what he was thinking and how he was feeling.
When he finally descended the moving staircase, she launched herself at him before he was off the bottom step.
“I’ve missed you so much. This was the longest week ever,” she whispered in his ear as she clung to his neck.
“I’m so sorry,” he answered before covering her mouth with his.
“Harry! Oh, man, am I glad to see you! Are you coming to breakfast?”
Ginny groaned. Dennis Creevey was going to die.
“We’ll be down in a minute, Dennis,” Harry said patiently, not turning to look or moving his mouth any further away from hers than was necessary to form the words.
“But-”
“Go away, Dennis!” Ginny turned a blazing glare at him.
He raised his hands in surrender and backed away. “Okay. No problem. See you downstairs.”
Harry started to draw her close again, but she grabbed his hand and pulled him down the hall. “Let’s find someplace private,” she said over her shoulder.
They made it to the Gryffindor portrait hole just as the rest of the team emerged. With a blank glance at them, Dean turned toward the stairs.
Harry watched him go, his brows furrowed in thought. “I suppose I should go apologize to him.”
“No,” Ginny said. “Not if you don’t want to.”
“I want to make you happy.”
“It won’t make me happy if you do it just because you think I want you to. It’s better to just let it be.”
He studied her carefully for a moment. She wondered if he was trying to decide whether or not to believe her. He finally just squeezed her hand and said, “We should go down.”
She wanted to protest, to drag him off to the Room of Requirement and make the rest of the world go away. But she knew if she didn’t go down now, she wouldn’t be able to go at all. Just the thought of spending the next several hours on a broom made her tired. With a heavy sigh, she nodded and let him guide her toward the stairs.
Once they were seated in the Great Hall, they had no chance to talk with each other. Dennis Creevey was a bundle of nervous energy over his first-ever match and kept Harry occupied with a steady stream of questions about strategy and worries about technique.
As the team chatter rose to fever pitch, Ginny tried to dredge up some enthusiasm. Instead, she found herself feeling completely disinterested and detached from the excitement growing around her. For the first time in her memory, she simply didn’t care about Quidditch.
She didn’t care about Quidditch.
The realization left her grasping for a sense of reality. What was wrong with her? She’d always been excited about Quidditch. Watching, playing, it didn’t matter. Quidditch was Quidditch. Her brothers had infused her with a love of the game almost from the moment of her birth-in fact, her mother said Ginny had got caught up in their enthusiasm even before that. But, now, unable to tap into the energy flowing around her, she felt like she’d lost a part of herself.
Panic began to set in. Dean was counting on her to set the pace for the Chasers, but her limbs felt like lead and her brain seemed to be floating above her head.
“Ginny, are you all right?” Dean looked worriedly across the table. “You look pale as a ghost.”
Harry’s head snapped toward her, but she waved them both off with a tight laugh. “I’m fine. Just a bit of nerves. I just need to eat something. I think I forgot to come to supper last night.”
Dean pushed the platter of sausages toward her. “Here. We don’t need you falling off your broom in the middle of the match.”
She took a sip of pumpkin juice and grabbed a slice of toast. Harry ignored Creevey to eye her anxiously. Dean continued his conversation with the Beaters, Ritchie Cootes and Jimmy Peakes, but kept throwing worried glances her way.
Hunger. That must be it. She’d be fine once she got something into her stomach. She really couldn’t remember the last time she ate. The toast scraped its way down her throat. A wash of juice forced it into her stomach, but, once there, it pitched violently, threatening to retrace its path. She closed her eyes and drew several deep breaths to calm her roiling insides.
“Ginny?” Harry put his hand on hers. “Are you okay?”
She opened her eyes and nodded. “I’ll be fine once I get into the air.”
He frowned. “I don’t know. Maybe you shouldn’t be on a broom if you aren’t feeling well.”
“I’m fine!” she said irritably. “I just need some air. Let’s go on down to the pitch.”
She stood, but had to grab the table as a wave of dizziness washed over her. Harry reached out to steady her. She shook him off and headed for the door. He caught up as she stepped from the castle entrance into the heavily overcast day. Leaden clouds hung ominously low and the wind was beginning to pick up. They walked quickly and silently across the lawn. By the time they reached the changing rooms, she was breathing easier and the lightheadedness had eased.
The pitch was deserted. No doubt the students were waiting until the last moment so they wouldn’t have to sit in the rain longer than necessary. Pulling Harry around the corner of the building, Ginny pushed him against the wall and snuggled close to him. He wrapped his arms around her as she tucked her face against his neck and inhaled. This was what she’d been craving all week-the feel of his heart beating next to hers, the warm male scent of him. She melted into him with a sigh. If she never had to move again, she would be perfectly content.
“Are you really okay?” he murmured against her hair.
She nodded against him.
He pushed her back and tilted her head so he could look into her eyes. “You’re sure? You do look awfully pale.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m fine. Here. I’ll prove it.”
She pressed her lips and body to his, molding herself to him, running her fingers into his hair. With a soft moan, he drew her more tightly to him. Within moments, the world had faded away and Ginny was aware of nothing but Harry-his taste that melted like sugar on her tongue, his body that fit so perfectly against hers, his strong arms that made her feel loved and safe.
“Oi!”
At the sound of Dean’s voice, they separated breathlessly.
“Team meeting. Now!”
With a growl of frustration, Ginny rested her head on Harry’s shoulder. She didn’t want to waste their precious time together chasing a stupid ball in the rain.
“Are you ready?” His low voice brought her back from the pleasant place her brain had taken her.
She heaved a great sigh. “I suppose.”
With a final lingering kiss, she led them around the corner, her arm still wrapped tightly around his waist. She looked up in surprise when he stopped at the door.
“He said team meeting,” Harry said. “I’m not on the team.”
“But-”
He shook his head. “No. He’s captain. He doesn’t need me there now.”
She gave him a desperate look. “I need you there.”
“I can’t, Ginny. I’ll be here after the match. Just... score lots of goals, okay?” He glanced anxiously through the door at Dennis Creevey pacing back and forth in front of the lockers. “Just in case.”
Clinging to him, she worked to control the overwhelming sense of dread building inside her. She couldn’t seem to push away the feeling that something horrible was going to happen unless she kept him by her side.
“Ginny?” He was looking at her as if he thought she might fall apart at any moment.
She stiffened her spine and tiptoed to kiss him. “I’m fine. See you after the match.”
With a tight smile, she reluctantly released him to go join her teammates.
***
Harry stared at the closed door. Something was off. He’d never known Ginny to be nervous before a match. And now that he was paying proper attention, he could see that Fleur and Hermione were right-Ginny was far too thin and she looked exhausted. He wondered how many other meals she had forgotten to eat.
Phrases from her letter wound their way through his mind: Things have been very hard here this year… I haven’t been sleeping well… I don’t feel much like myself anymore and I don’t like who I’ve become… I live for the weekends… It’s the only time I feel happy.
Frustration at the inability to act coursed through him. He couldn’t wait for the match to be over.
The rain began to come down in earnest as the students trickled from the castle. Harry fell into step beside Neville and Luna. With a quick Impervius charm to his glasses, he pulled up the hood of his cloak and sat down next to Neville, paying little attention to the students around him as he worried over Ginny and the match.
“Mind if I sit here?”
Harry dragged himself from his thoughts and grimaced as Romilda Vane settled herself on the bench next to him, much closer than was really necessary. He realized, too late, that he was surrounded by her faithful followers. Madam Hooch was releasing the Quaffle, so he slipped a bit closer to Neville and turned his attention to the match.
Things started off badly and got worse. Ginny should have easily grabbed the Quaffle on the release, but it slipped through her fingers. One of the Slytherin Chasers seized it and made for the goal. Within ten minutes, the score was Slytherin-30, Gryffindor-0.
Even accounting for the rain, which had become torrential, Ginny was off her game-way off. Harry had never seen her play so badly. She was a fierce competitor, even when they were just mucking about in the orchard behind the Burrow. But today, it seemed as though the Quaffle had been charmed to avoid her. The few times she managed to catch it, hang onto it, and take a shot at the goal, she missed spectacularly. She seemed sluggish and distracted. Harry kicked himself for not making her eat a proper breakfast.
After only thirty minutes, the score was 90 to 10-the single Gryffindor goal made by Demelza Robbins. As captain of his first match and trying to pay attention to everything on the field, Dean wasn’t any more help with scoring than Ginny. Harry began to search wildly for the Snitch. Creevey needed to end this thing now.
The two Seekers were making lazy circles above the action, the tiny ball still invisible in the gloomy downpour.
“Gryffindor doesn’t look so good today. The Chasers seem to be having a hard time, don’t you think? Do you s’pose it’s the rain?”
Harry dragged his eyes from the sky to glance briefly at Romilda before quickly turning back to the players above. “Yeah, it’s the rain,” he said absently and went back to looking for the Snitch.
“I really hate rain. Do you know a charm that would keep it off of us?”
Harry looked at her quickly, then back to the sky. “No. Sorry.”
“Would you mind if I sat a bit closer to you so it doesn’t blow in my face so much?”
Irritated at the constant distraction, Harry kept his eyes on the match and struggled to keep his tone polite. “You could go back to the castle, if it’s bothering you.”
He missed what she said next as he jumped to his feet and groaned with the rest of the crowd when Ginny missed a pass from Dean, then was nearly knocked from her broom by a Bludger. Harry held his breath while she righted herself and headed back into the action, but then shouted several impolite phrases at Dean who was following Ginny, obviously going ballistic. Harry knew that Dean, as captain, had every right-even a responsibility-to blast players who weren’t paying attention, but it rankled to watch him do it to Ginny when she was clearly not feeling well. They should never have let her play.
Slytherin scored six more times in the next twenty minutes, making the score 150 to 10. The driving rain didn’t seem to be fazing them a bit. Harry wondered what charms they were using to neutralize the weather in their favor.
When Ginny fumbled another pass, Demelza scrambled to catch the loose Quaffle. Slytherin made an easy steal and sped toward the opposite end of the pitch.
Suddenly, Harry saw it.
The Snitch winked dully into view a foot from the ground in the middle of the pitch. Creevey saw it, too. Turning his broom into a nearly vertical dive, he side-swiped the Slytherin Seeker who was soon hot on his tail.
Harry concentrated with all his might, willing Creevey to move faster. If Creevey could catch the Snitch before Slytherin scored, Gryffindor would win.
Creevey pulled gracefully out of his dive. The two Seekers flew neck-and-neck after the faint gold speck, bumping and shoving, elbows and knees flying.
Overhead, the Slytherin Chasers passed the Quaffle with flawless grace through an onslaught of Gryffindor Bludgers. Dean and Demelza flew furiously, nearly colliding with one another as they attempted a steal. All too quickly, the action reached the final Gryffindor line of defense-Euan Abercrombie, the Keeper, and Ginny. Harry tried frantically to watch both ends of the pitch at once.
Creevey slammed into the Slytherin Seeker, sending them both tumbling toward the ground in a tangle.
Slytherin blasted the Quaffle toward the goal. Ginny stretched to make the catch; it bounced off the ends of her fingers. Abercrombie dived desperately for the save; he missed. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as the red ball tapped the rim of the center ring and rolled lazily through the opening.
Harry joined in the collective Gryffindor groan. With an angry swipe at her eyes, Ginny took off toward the changing rooms. Harry began to push past Romilda and her cohorts, but stopped in surprise as the stands around him erupted into chaos. Everyone was pointing at the ground, jumping up and down, hugging one another.
Creevey stood in the center of the pitch, holding the Snitch high above his head.
Gryffindor had won.
***
Ginny turned her broom toward the changing rooms. She couldn’t stay until the match was over-she had to get out of here. NOW. Gryffindor would be a player short, but they’d be better off without her anyway.
She ignored the explosion of cheers behind her. Slytherin had probably just sealed the win and she didn’t want to be around to hear the rousing chorus of “Weasley is Our Queen” that was sure to follow. Not only had she played the worst game of her life, she’d actually helped the other team win.
She had jumped from her broom a foot from the ground and taken only a step toward the broom shed when Dean landed behind her and grabbed her arm.
“What the bloody hell were you doing up there?” he yelled.
She snatched her arm from his grasp and kept walking. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
He grabbed her again and jerked her around to face him. “Well, we’re going to talk about it. That was the worst performance I’ve ever seen, including Ron’s fifth year. Where was your head? Obviously not in the game!”
“That’s right, Dean. It’s a Weasley trait. I had to live up to the family name and go out there just to make Gryffindor lose. That’s what I live for, to make you look bad.”
“Well, you did a bloody brilliant job of it! I can’t believe-”
“Leave her alone, Dean.” Harry appeared out of the growing crowd to stand protectively in front of Ginny, his voice low but threatening.
“You stay out of this!” Ginny shouted, pushing past Harry to glare at Dean. “You’re right. I effed it up! I lost the match! There! Satisfied? No? Okay, how about this? I quit!”
Ignoring Dean’s and Harry’s shouts, she mounted her broom and took off over the heads of the students wading their way back to the castle.
***
“Great work, Thomas,” Harry said with a scathing look.
He grabbed Creevey’s broom and shot after her, landing at the steps as she slipped through the front doors. Broom still in hand, he dashed after her, though she was already lost from sight before he reached the first landing. He called out to her. The only response was the sound of their labored breathing and rapid footsteps bouncing eerily off the ancient stone of the nearly deserted castle. At the seventh floor, he turned toward Gryffindor Tower, but took only a couple of steps before the echo of footsteps going the opposite direction had him spinning around. He raced after the sound and turned the corner just in time to see Ginny disappear into a door that wasn’t usually there.
The Room of Requirement.
Harry’s heart lurched. If he didn’t make it in, he’d have to wait until she came out, unless he could figure out what she’d asked for-experience told him that wasn’t an option.
With a great lunge, he threw the broom as hard as he could at the opening. The door slammed on it, splintering the handle, but not closing completely. He skidded to a stop inside, kicked the mangled bits of wood out of the way, and slammed the door shut.
Bent over with his hands on his knees to catch his breath, Harry squinted around the dimly lit room searching for Ginny. He could hear her sobbing quietly and finally spotted a flash of red hair over the back of the shabby sofa sitting in front of the fireplace. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he began to realize that everything looked familiar-the sitting room of the Burrow had been transported to Hogwarts, complete with Mr. Weasley’s sagging armchair and the large wooden wireless. The only thing missing was the sideboard that held Firewhiskey and glasses. Harry wondered if he shouldn’t ask the Room to conjure it. Ginny could probably use a stiff drink. He knew what it was like to feel you’d lost the match for your team.
He walked cautiously around the sofa. She was tucked into the corner of the worn cushions clasping her knees to her chest, face buried in her arms, still dripping and shivering violently. With a wave of his hand, the fireplace blazed to life. He dropped his own dripping cloak to the floor and knelt before her.
“Ginny,” he said softly, not wanting to startle her.
She hugged her knees tighter and shuddered.
“Ginny, you need to get dried off.” He pulled gently on her hand. “Come on, you’re freezing. Stand up.”
She let him pull her up and remove the drenched cloak, but she kept her eyes on the floor. Harry cast a drying charm over her soaked uniform as she shivered uncontrollably.
“We need a blanket,” he said to the Room and a fluffy blue one materialized on the sofa. “Wish we could do that for food,” he muttered as he cast a warming charm on it, wrapped it around her, and settled her on the dry end of the couch.
“W-Winky,” she whispered through her chattering teeth.
He looked down in surprise as the tiny elf popped from thin air next to him.
“Mister Harry Potter, sir!” she squealed joyously and threw her arms around his knees. “Winky is being so glad to be seeing you, sir! Winky is being taking very good care of Harry Potter’s Miss Wheezy.”
As she spotted Ginny swaddled in the blanket, Winky’s eyes went wide. “What is being wrong with Miss Wheezy?”
“She’s just been out in the rain, Winky. Can you bring us some hot soup and maybe some sandwiches?”
“Oh, yes! Winky is being right back, Mister Harry Potter, sir.” She disappeared with a pop.
Harry knelt before Ginny again and removed her sodden boots and socks.
“Thank you,” she murmured as he tucked the blanket around her feet.
He sat in the armchair to take off his own wet shoes and smiled over at her. “Someone needs to take care of you.”
She frowned into the fire. “I don’t need taking care of. I can take care of myself.”
He opened his mouth to protest, but Winky popped back in with the food and he busied himself instead with making sure Ginny ate. She finished her soup, but managed only a bite of the sandwich before laying her head on the arm of the sofa and staring into the fire as she toyed with the pendent he’d given her for her birthday-his heart warmed to think that she actually liked his gift enough to still be wearing it.
“He was right, you know,” she said finally.
“Who was right?”
“Dean.”
Harry snorted.
“No,” she said, her voice a bit stronger. “He was right. My head wasn’t in the game. I didn’t want to be out there.”
Harry moved over to the sofa and winced as his bum came in contact with the cold, sopping place where she had first sat. “Budge up,” he said as he lifted her, slipped into the warm spot where she’d been curled, and settled her into his lap.
She snuggled into him, tucking her face into his neck. “I couldn’t pay attention to the game,” she continued quietly, her breath warm against his skin. “All I could think about was that you were talking to Romilda.”
“Romilda was talking,” he said. “I was watching the match.”
“Didn’t matter,” she said. “I wanted to be where she was, sitting next to you. I didn’t want to be playing Quidditch.”
“But you love Quidditch.”
Several long moments passed before she responded. “No. I don’t think I do anymore. I meant what I said about quitting.”
“You’re just not feeling well. And the weather-”
“It’s not the weather,” she said irritably, pulling back to look at him. “I just don’t care anymore, okay? It’s a stupid game, for Merlin’s sake. We’ve just been through a war. People died. What effin’ difference does it make who catches a stupid little ball with wings?”
He searched her eyes. She was right, of course. But this was a Ginny he didn’t know; the cynicism and hopelessness he saw in her face worried him.
“You’re right,” he said quietly. “It’s not important.”
She looked satisfied and laid her head back on his shoulder.
Harry worked her hair free of its braid so it could dry, then rested his cheek against her head and lost track of the time as he idly ran his fingers through the damp strands. Gradually, he began to notice that the emptiness from the night before was gone. Of course, he’d known all along what it was he longed for, but as he held her now, felt her soft breath against his neck, inhaled her delicate floral scent, he felt as if he had come home from a long journey. Comfortable and contented, he could think of nothing that could make life more wonderful than it was at this minute.
Ginny shifted slightly in his arms and pressed her lips to the sensitive spot below his ear. His sluggish body sprang to life. Okay, maybe there was one more thing that could make life absolutely perfect.
He felt her smile against him as she noticed his reaction. She trailed tiny kisses up to his jaw and he tipped his head to cover her mouth with his. Merlin, she tasted good. His tongue invited hers to dance and he buried his fingers in her hair, wondering briefly-ever so briefly-if he was taking advantage of her weakened state. But the thought flitted away when she purred and began trailing her fingers down his neck and beneath the collar of his shirt to work loose the buttons on the front. When her hand splayed across his bare chest, he moaned into her, torn between wanting to encourage her and needing to push her away. If she kept this up, he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to stop.
“Ginny,” he said, finally drawing back and breathing heavily. “We have to stop-”
“No.” She pulled him back. “Don’t. Want. To,” she said breathlessly between kisses.
Harry tried desperately to hold on to his self-control, but when she pressed her open mouth to his and wiggled her bum against him, he knew he was lost. So when she suddenly released him and jumped from his lap, he groaned loudly in protest. His addled brain couldn’t quite process that she was trying to pull him up with her.
“Come on, Harry, stand up!”
He followed her blindly across the room and gazed in wonder at the bed that he hadn’t noticed until she pushed him down on it and removed his glasses to set them on the night table. And after a moment, he no longer cared about unexpected furniture or magical rooms, only about the redhead sitting on top of him, struggling to get their clothes off. Once he started helping, it didn’t take long to remove all the barriers.
Oh, she felt so good against him, like pale silk draped around him, fitting perfectly into every curve. But, even so, he couldn’t get close enough to her. The need to fill her, to become part of her, was taking over his entire being. He rolled on top of her and kissed her as if she were his only link to life.
She pulled away, gasping for air. “Harry, please…”
Her voice sounded as desperate as he felt. When she reached down to move him into position, the sensation of his most sensitive spot touching her there jolted him back to reality. The enormity of what she was asking, of what they were doing, hit him like a Bludger.
He pushed up on his elbow and summoned his glasses. He needed to see her face.
“Ginny, are you sure?”
“Yes.”
She looked confident, but he hesitated, trying to be sure this wasn’t coming from emotions left over from their argument or the disastrous Quidditch match.
“Yes,” she repeated, her eyes steady, her expression sure.
He studied her for a moment more to be certain. This would be their first time. Well, at least it was his. He hoped it was hers, too, but she’d dated more people than he had. No, he wouldn’t think about that now. She moved impatiently beneath him. He pushed his doubts away and, at her encouraging nod, began to ease into her.
Annoyingly, Ron’s voice began to echo in his head.
It hurts them the first time, ya know. You have to go slow. There’s a piece of skin or something-Hermione called it the haymen… hymen… something like that. You have to break through it and it hurts like hell. Even after that, you have to take it easy until she gets used to you…
At the time, Harry had been embarrassed beyond belief by Ron’s drunken recounting of the experience, but he hadn’t been able to overcome his fascinated revulsion to stop the telling. He’d laughed at the image of Hermione giving textbook instructions during such an intimate act. But now, seeing the grimace on Ginny’s face, her eyes closed, bottom lip caught between her teeth, Harry was eternally grateful for the knowledge.
“I don’t want to hurt you. I can stop…”
“It can’t be helped, Harry. Just do it and get it over with.”
He eased in a bit further and met resistance-and breathed out a small sigh of relief. She didn’t seem to notice as she bit down on her lip and drew in a sharp breath.
“Ginny, I-”
“Just do it, Harry.”
The look on her face was killing him, but the feel of her around him was indescribable. He remained still, allowing the battle to rage within.
“Harry-” She looked at him in exasperation.
He closed his eyes and thrust hard, wanting to be sure he had to do it only once. Her whimper of pain escaped through clenched teeth and he lowered himself to hold her close and kiss her.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he murmured.
“It’s okay. I’m okay,” she whispered, her voice tight. “Just give me a minute…”
He nodded against her hair and kissed her neck. He tried to be as still as possible but after a few moments the realization of what they’d done, of where he was, seeped into his brain. Every nerve ending in his body was focused on the feel of her cradling him. The urge to move became almost too much to bear.
“I’m okay, Harry. Go ahead,” she whispered, her voice and body more relaxed.
He pushed himself up on his elbows so he could watch her face as he began to move with slow strokes. She winced, but didn’t cry out.
“Tell me-tell me if I need to stop.”
She nodded and held his gaze steadily.
But as he began moving faster, he was quickly past the point of stopping. Within moments, stars exploded in his head and, with a great shout, he collapsed onto her, shuddering and panting for breath. She wrapped her arms around him and stroked his back until he settled back to earth.
Easing out of her, he gathered her up and poured all of his emotions into a kiss that left them both breathless. He rolled over and pulled her onto his chest, his body still thrumming as they lay quietly for several long moments.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered hoarsely when he could finally engage his brain and make his voice work. “That wasn’t much fun for you, was it?”
She kissed him and snuggled up under his chin. “No. But it’ll be better next time.”
Next time. She was really going to let him do it again? The thought triggered a reaction he knew she wasn’t ready for yet.
“I love you,” he said, squeezing her tightly.
He could feel her smile against his shoulder. “I love you, too.”
She pushed up on her elbow so she could look into his eyes. “So, how was it for you?”
He couldn’t help the grin that split his face. “Brilliant! Fantastic! Incredible!”
“Better than flying?” she teased.
“Oh, loads better. It was better than snatching the Snitch from under Malfoy’s nose and eating your mum’s treacle tart in celebration. It was better than Christmas and my birthday all rolled into one.” He gave her a mischievous look. “It was better than defeating Voldemort.”
She giggled. “That good, huh?”
“Yeah. That good,” he said with a sigh. “I’m sorry I couldn’t make the first time as good for you, too.”
She opened her eyes wide in surprise. “That was your first time?”
It was his turn to be surprised. “Well, yeah. What’d you think?”
She dropped her eyes and shrugged. “I don’t know. I just figured-well, I never knew how far things went with Cho…”
He huffed. “She was too broken up over Cedric and I was too stupid to know what to do then anyway.”
“…and you’ve had all those women throwing themselves at you since the war.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“I didn’t mean that! It’s just, well, I grew up with six brothers. And, several of them liked-well, variety.
“Well, I don’t.”
“What about Daphne?”
Harry snorted.
“Well, you dated her.”
“I escorted her to one party and that was a publicity stunt. I didn’t even kiss her goodnight.”
Ginny snuggled back under his chin.
“I’m glad I was your first.”
“And my last.”
Her head popped back up, eyes wide.
He studied her seriously for a moment, then pushed them both up to sit facing each other. Her eyes were wide, questioning. He watched her, wondering if he dared, then the words tumbled out before he could stop them.
“I love you, Ginny. Marry me.”
Her mouth fell open, closed, and opened again. Harry held up his hand and a small black box flew from his cloak to his palm. He opened it and held it out for her to see. Nestled in dark green velvet, an oval emerald flanked by heart-shaped diamonds winked from a golden ring. She put her hand over her mouth as a sob escaped and tears welled in her eyes.
“It was my mum’s. I found it in my vault. Look. There’s an inscription.”
Ginny brushed at her tears and squinted at the inside of the ring:
LE-JP 1978 Love conquers all.
The tears started afresh. “Oh, Harry. It’s beautiful.”
Worried that he’d mucked it up he gave her an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. I meant to make it more romantic, like Ron did with Hermione. I should’ve-well-it just kind of slipped out…”
“No!” She was smiling now, to his great relief. “No, it was just right.” She pinned him to the pillows with a kiss that threatened to cut off his air supply.
When they parted, he gave her a quizzical look. “So? Will you?”
“Yes, you prat. Of course, I will.”
As he slipped the ring on her finger, it magically sized to fit her perfectly. He caught his breath at the look on her face.
“Harry Potter, you’ve just made my first time absolutely perfect.”
Her bubbly laugh made him grin. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard her laugh like that and his heart flipped to know that he’d been able to do that for her. Maybe things were going to be okay after all.
Chapter 9
Prologue
Chapter 8/60: Catching the Snitch
Author: serendipity_50
Pairings: H/G, R/Hr
Warnings: Het sex, mild profanity
Word Count this chapter: about 5,800
Era: Post-DH Pre-Epilogue
Disclaimer: The characters belong to JK Rowling. No money is being made from this fiction, which is presented for entertainment only.
Author's Notes: As always, thanks to Ashwinder and minisinoo for keeping me on my toes. Comments are encouraged from everyone.
Story Summary: Long-distance relationships are hard under normal circumstances, but Harry and Ginny don’t have the luxury of living normal lives. Their relationship is put to the test when Ginny returns to school and Harry stays behind to continue his Auror training. Ginny realizes her greatest challenge may be in coming to terms with Harry’s fame and dangerous line of work and deciding if she can make the sacrifices needed to be part of his life.
Chapter Summary: Harry returns to Hogwarts in time for the Gryffindor-Slytherin match, but Ginny reaches a stunning realization that could change everything.
~~~~~~~~~~
Ginny paced restlessly up and down the hallway in front of the gargoyle, fingers nervously working her lightning bolt pendent up and down its chain, Quidditch robes billowing with every pivot. Dean wanted the team to eat breakfast together, but she simply had to talk to Harry before the match or she’d be good for nothing.
She was convinced that Romilda was the one leaking information to the press; she just couldn’t prove it. The account of her row with Harry had made it into the Prophet in amazing detail (although the paper had been half a day late for reasons no one could explain), and the castle gossip network had been hard at work twisting and enhancing the story as the week progressed. With each passing day, her anger at Harry had dwindled and she had become increasingly desperate to touch him, to know what he was thinking and how he was feeling.
When he finally descended the moving staircase, she launched herself at him before he was off the bottom step.
“I’ve missed you so much. This was the longest week ever,” she whispered in his ear as she clung to his neck.
“I’m so sorry,” he answered before covering her mouth with his.
“Harry! Oh, man, am I glad to see you! Are you coming to breakfast?”
Ginny groaned. Dennis Creevey was going to die.
“We’ll be down in a minute, Dennis,” Harry said patiently, not turning to look or moving his mouth any further away from hers than was necessary to form the words.
“But-”
“Go away, Dennis!” Ginny turned a blazing glare at him.
He raised his hands in surrender and backed away. “Okay. No problem. See you downstairs.”
Harry started to draw her close again, but she grabbed his hand and pulled him down the hall. “Let’s find someplace private,” she said over her shoulder.
They made it to the Gryffindor portrait hole just as the rest of the team emerged. With a blank glance at them, Dean turned toward the stairs.
Harry watched him go, his brows furrowed in thought. “I suppose I should go apologize to him.”
“No,” Ginny said. “Not if you don’t want to.”
“I want to make you happy.”
“It won’t make me happy if you do it just because you think I want you to. It’s better to just let it be.”
He studied her carefully for a moment. She wondered if he was trying to decide whether or not to believe her. He finally just squeezed her hand and said, “We should go down.”
She wanted to protest, to drag him off to the Room of Requirement and make the rest of the world go away. But she knew if she didn’t go down now, she wouldn’t be able to go at all. Just the thought of spending the next several hours on a broom made her tired. With a heavy sigh, she nodded and let him guide her toward the stairs.
Once they were seated in the Great Hall, they had no chance to talk with each other. Dennis Creevey was a bundle of nervous energy over his first-ever match and kept Harry occupied with a steady stream of questions about strategy and worries about technique.
As the team chatter rose to fever pitch, Ginny tried to dredge up some enthusiasm. Instead, she found herself feeling completely disinterested and detached from the excitement growing around her. For the first time in her memory, she simply didn’t care about Quidditch.
She didn’t care about Quidditch.
The realization left her grasping for a sense of reality. What was wrong with her? She’d always been excited about Quidditch. Watching, playing, it didn’t matter. Quidditch was Quidditch. Her brothers had infused her with a love of the game almost from the moment of her birth-in fact, her mother said Ginny had got caught up in their enthusiasm even before that. But, now, unable to tap into the energy flowing around her, she felt like she’d lost a part of herself.
Panic began to set in. Dean was counting on her to set the pace for the Chasers, but her limbs felt like lead and her brain seemed to be floating above her head.
“Ginny, are you all right?” Dean looked worriedly across the table. “You look pale as a ghost.”
Harry’s head snapped toward her, but she waved them both off with a tight laugh. “I’m fine. Just a bit of nerves. I just need to eat something. I think I forgot to come to supper last night.”
Dean pushed the platter of sausages toward her. “Here. We don’t need you falling off your broom in the middle of the match.”
She took a sip of pumpkin juice and grabbed a slice of toast. Harry ignored Creevey to eye her anxiously. Dean continued his conversation with the Beaters, Ritchie Cootes and Jimmy Peakes, but kept throwing worried glances her way.
Hunger. That must be it. She’d be fine once she got something into her stomach. She really couldn’t remember the last time she ate. The toast scraped its way down her throat. A wash of juice forced it into her stomach, but, once there, it pitched violently, threatening to retrace its path. She closed her eyes and drew several deep breaths to calm her roiling insides.
“Ginny?” Harry put his hand on hers. “Are you okay?”
She opened her eyes and nodded. “I’ll be fine once I get into the air.”
He frowned. “I don’t know. Maybe you shouldn’t be on a broom if you aren’t feeling well.”
“I’m fine!” she said irritably. “I just need some air. Let’s go on down to the pitch.”
She stood, but had to grab the table as a wave of dizziness washed over her. Harry reached out to steady her. She shook him off and headed for the door. He caught up as she stepped from the castle entrance into the heavily overcast day. Leaden clouds hung ominously low and the wind was beginning to pick up. They walked quickly and silently across the lawn. By the time they reached the changing rooms, she was breathing easier and the lightheadedness had eased.
The pitch was deserted. No doubt the students were waiting until the last moment so they wouldn’t have to sit in the rain longer than necessary. Pulling Harry around the corner of the building, Ginny pushed him against the wall and snuggled close to him. He wrapped his arms around her as she tucked her face against his neck and inhaled. This was what she’d been craving all week-the feel of his heart beating next to hers, the warm male scent of him. She melted into him with a sigh. If she never had to move again, she would be perfectly content.
“Are you really okay?” he murmured against her hair.
She nodded against him.
He pushed her back and tilted her head so he could look into her eyes. “You’re sure? You do look awfully pale.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m fine. Here. I’ll prove it.”
She pressed her lips and body to his, molding herself to him, running her fingers into his hair. With a soft moan, he drew her more tightly to him. Within moments, the world had faded away and Ginny was aware of nothing but Harry-his taste that melted like sugar on her tongue, his body that fit so perfectly against hers, his strong arms that made her feel loved and safe.
“Oi!”
At the sound of Dean’s voice, they separated breathlessly.
“Team meeting. Now!”
With a growl of frustration, Ginny rested her head on Harry’s shoulder. She didn’t want to waste their precious time together chasing a stupid ball in the rain.
“Are you ready?” His low voice brought her back from the pleasant place her brain had taken her.
She heaved a great sigh. “I suppose.”
With a final lingering kiss, she led them around the corner, her arm still wrapped tightly around his waist. She looked up in surprise when he stopped at the door.
“He said team meeting,” Harry said. “I’m not on the team.”
“But-”
He shook his head. “No. He’s captain. He doesn’t need me there now.”
She gave him a desperate look. “I need you there.”
“I can’t, Ginny. I’ll be here after the match. Just... score lots of goals, okay?” He glanced anxiously through the door at Dennis Creevey pacing back and forth in front of the lockers. “Just in case.”
Clinging to him, she worked to control the overwhelming sense of dread building inside her. She couldn’t seem to push away the feeling that something horrible was going to happen unless she kept him by her side.
“Ginny?” He was looking at her as if he thought she might fall apart at any moment.
She stiffened her spine and tiptoed to kiss him. “I’m fine. See you after the match.”
With a tight smile, she reluctantly released him to go join her teammates.
***
Harry stared at the closed door. Something was off. He’d never known Ginny to be nervous before a match. And now that he was paying proper attention, he could see that Fleur and Hermione were right-Ginny was far too thin and she looked exhausted. He wondered how many other meals she had forgotten to eat.
Phrases from her letter wound their way through his mind: Things have been very hard here this year… I haven’t been sleeping well… I don’t feel much like myself anymore and I don’t like who I’ve become… I live for the weekends… It’s the only time I feel happy.
Frustration at the inability to act coursed through him. He couldn’t wait for the match to be over.
The rain began to come down in earnest as the students trickled from the castle. Harry fell into step beside Neville and Luna. With a quick Impervius charm to his glasses, he pulled up the hood of his cloak and sat down next to Neville, paying little attention to the students around him as he worried over Ginny and the match.
“Mind if I sit here?”
Harry dragged himself from his thoughts and grimaced as Romilda Vane settled herself on the bench next to him, much closer than was really necessary. He realized, too late, that he was surrounded by her faithful followers. Madam Hooch was releasing the Quaffle, so he slipped a bit closer to Neville and turned his attention to the match.
Things started off badly and got worse. Ginny should have easily grabbed the Quaffle on the release, but it slipped through her fingers. One of the Slytherin Chasers seized it and made for the goal. Within ten minutes, the score was Slytherin-30, Gryffindor-0.
Even accounting for the rain, which had become torrential, Ginny was off her game-way off. Harry had never seen her play so badly. She was a fierce competitor, even when they were just mucking about in the orchard behind the Burrow. But today, it seemed as though the Quaffle had been charmed to avoid her. The few times she managed to catch it, hang onto it, and take a shot at the goal, she missed spectacularly. She seemed sluggish and distracted. Harry kicked himself for not making her eat a proper breakfast.
After only thirty minutes, the score was 90 to 10-the single Gryffindor goal made by Demelza Robbins. As captain of his first match and trying to pay attention to everything on the field, Dean wasn’t any more help with scoring than Ginny. Harry began to search wildly for the Snitch. Creevey needed to end this thing now.
The two Seekers were making lazy circles above the action, the tiny ball still invisible in the gloomy downpour.
“Gryffindor doesn’t look so good today. The Chasers seem to be having a hard time, don’t you think? Do you s’pose it’s the rain?”
Harry dragged his eyes from the sky to glance briefly at Romilda before quickly turning back to the players above. “Yeah, it’s the rain,” he said absently and went back to looking for the Snitch.
“I really hate rain. Do you know a charm that would keep it off of us?”
Harry looked at her quickly, then back to the sky. “No. Sorry.”
“Would you mind if I sat a bit closer to you so it doesn’t blow in my face so much?”
Irritated at the constant distraction, Harry kept his eyes on the match and struggled to keep his tone polite. “You could go back to the castle, if it’s bothering you.”
He missed what she said next as he jumped to his feet and groaned with the rest of the crowd when Ginny missed a pass from Dean, then was nearly knocked from her broom by a Bludger. Harry held his breath while she righted herself and headed back into the action, but then shouted several impolite phrases at Dean who was following Ginny, obviously going ballistic. Harry knew that Dean, as captain, had every right-even a responsibility-to blast players who weren’t paying attention, but it rankled to watch him do it to Ginny when she was clearly not feeling well. They should never have let her play.
Slytherin scored six more times in the next twenty minutes, making the score 150 to 10. The driving rain didn’t seem to be fazing them a bit. Harry wondered what charms they were using to neutralize the weather in their favor.
When Ginny fumbled another pass, Demelza scrambled to catch the loose Quaffle. Slytherin made an easy steal and sped toward the opposite end of the pitch.
Suddenly, Harry saw it.
The Snitch winked dully into view a foot from the ground in the middle of the pitch. Creevey saw it, too. Turning his broom into a nearly vertical dive, he side-swiped the Slytherin Seeker who was soon hot on his tail.
Harry concentrated with all his might, willing Creevey to move faster. If Creevey could catch the Snitch before Slytherin scored, Gryffindor would win.
Creevey pulled gracefully out of his dive. The two Seekers flew neck-and-neck after the faint gold speck, bumping and shoving, elbows and knees flying.
Overhead, the Slytherin Chasers passed the Quaffle with flawless grace through an onslaught of Gryffindor Bludgers. Dean and Demelza flew furiously, nearly colliding with one another as they attempted a steal. All too quickly, the action reached the final Gryffindor line of defense-Euan Abercrombie, the Keeper, and Ginny. Harry tried frantically to watch both ends of the pitch at once.
Creevey slammed into the Slytherin Seeker, sending them both tumbling toward the ground in a tangle.
Slytherin blasted the Quaffle toward the goal. Ginny stretched to make the catch; it bounced off the ends of her fingers. Abercrombie dived desperately for the save; he missed. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as the red ball tapped the rim of the center ring and rolled lazily through the opening.
Harry joined in the collective Gryffindor groan. With an angry swipe at her eyes, Ginny took off toward the changing rooms. Harry began to push past Romilda and her cohorts, but stopped in surprise as the stands around him erupted into chaos. Everyone was pointing at the ground, jumping up and down, hugging one another.
Creevey stood in the center of the pitch, holding the Snitch high above his head.
Gryffindor had won.
***
Ginny turned her broom toward the changing rooms. She couldn’t stay until the match was over-she had to get out of here. NOW. Gryffindor would be a player short, but they’d be better off without her anyway.
She ignored the explosion of cheers behind her. Slytherin had probably just sealed the win and she didn’t want to be around to hear the rousing chorus of “Weasley is Our Queen” that was sure to follow. Not only had she played the worst game of her life, she’d actually helped the other team win.
She had jumped from her broom a foot from the ground and taken only a step toward the broom shed when Dean landed behind her and grabbed her arm.
“What the bloody hell were you doing up there?” he yelled.
She snatched her arm from his grasp and kept walking. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
He grabbed her again and jerked her around to face him. “Well, we’re going to talk about it. That was the worst performance I’ve ever seen, including Ron’s fifth year. Where was your head? Obviously not in the game!”
“That’s right, Dean. It’s a Weasley trait. I had to live up to the family name and go out there just to make Gryffindor lose. That’s what I live for, to make you look bad.”
“Well, you did a bloody brilliant job of it! I can’t believe-”
“Leave her alone, Dean.” Harry appeared out of the growing crowd to stand protectively in front of Ginny, his voice low but threatening.
“You stay out of this!” Ginny shouted, pushing past Harry to glare at Dean. “You’re right. I effed it up! I lost the match! There! Satisfied? No? Okay, how about this? I quit!”
Ignoring Dean’s and Harry’s shouts, she mounted her broom and took off over the heads of the students wading their way back to the castle.
***
“Great work, Thomas,” Harry said with a scathing look.
He grabbed Creevey’s broom and shot after her, landing at the steps as she slipped through the front doors. Broom still in hand, he dashed after her, though she was already lost from sight before he reached the first landing. He called out to her. The only response was the sound of their labored breathing and rapid footsteps bouncing eerily off the ancient stone of the nearly deserted castle. At the seventh floor, he turned toward Gryffindor Tower, but took only a couple of steps before the echo of footsteps going the opposite direction had him spinning around. He raced after the sound and turned the corner just in time to see Ginny disappear into a door that wasn’t usually there.
The Room of Requirement.
Harry’s heart lurched. If he didn’t make it in, he’d have to wait until she came out, unless he could figure out what she’d asked for-experience told him that wasn’t an option.
With a great lunge, he threw the broom as hard as he could at the opening. The door slammed on it, splintering the handle, but not closing completely. He skidded to a stop inside, kicked the mangled bits of wood out of the way, and slammed the door shut.
Bent over with his hands on his knees to catch his breath, Harry squinted around the dimly lit room searching for Ginny. He could hear her sobbing quietly and finally spotted a flash of red hair over the back of the shabby sofa sitting in front of the fireplace. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he began to realize that everything looked familiar-the sitting room of the Burrow had been transported to Hogwarts, complete with Mr. Weasley’s sagging armchair and the large wooden wireless. The only thing missing was the sideboard that held Firewhiskey and glasses. Harry wondered if he shouldn’t ask the Room to conjure it. Ginny could probably use a stiff drink. He knew what it was like to feel you’d lost the match for your team.
He walked cautiously around the sofa. She was tucked into the corner of the worn cushions clasping her knees to her chest, face buried in her arms, still dripping and shivering violently. With a wave of his hand, the fireplace blazed to life. He dropped his own dripping cloak to the floor and knelt before her.
“Ginny,” he said softly, not wanting to startle her.
She hugged her knees tighter and shuddered.
“Ginny, you need to get dried off.” He pulled gently on her hand. “Come on, you’re freezing. Stand up.”
She let him pull her up and remove the drenched cloak, but she kept her eyes on the floor. Harry cast a drying charm over her soaked uniform as she shivered uncontrollably.
“We need a blanket,” he said to the Room and a fluffy blue one materialized on the sofa. “Wish we could do that for food,” he muttered as he cast a warming charm on it, wrapped it around her, and settled her on the dry end of the couch.
“W-Winky,” she whispered through her chattering teeth.
He looked down in surprise as the tiny elf popped from thin air next to him.
“Mister Harry Potter, sir!” she squealed joyously and threw her arms around his knees. “Winky is being so glad to be seeing you, sir! Winky is being taking very good care of Harry Potter’s Miss Wheezy.”
As she spotted Ginny swaddled in the blanket, Winky’s eyes went wide. “What is being wrong with Miss Wheezy?”
“She’s just been out in the rain, Winky. Can you bring us some hot soup and maybe some sandwiches?”
“Oh, yes! Winky is being right back, Mister Harry Potter, sir.” She disappeared with a pop.
Harry knelt before Ginny again and removed her sodden boots and socks.
“Thank you,” she murmured as he tucked the blanket around her feet.
He sat in the armchair to take off his own wet shoes and smiled over at her. “Someone needs to take care of you.”
She frowned into the fire. “I don’t need taking care of. I can take care of myself.”
He opened his mouth to protest, but Winky popped back in with the food and he busied himself instead with making sure Ginny ate. She finished her soup, but managed only a bite of the sandwich before laying her head on the arm of the sofa and staring into the fire as she toyed with the pendent he’d given her for her birthday-his heart warmed to think that she actually liked his gift enough to still be wearing it.
“He was right, you know,” she said finally.
“Who was right?”
“Dean.”
Harry snorted.
“No,” she said, her voice a bit stronger. “He was right. My head wasn’t in the game. I didn’t want to be out there.”
Harry moved over to the sofa and winced as his bum came in contact with the cold, sopping place where she had first sat. “Budge up,” he said as he lifted her, slipped into the warm spot where she’d been curled, and settled her into his lap.
She snuggled into him, tucking her face into his neck. “I couldn’t pay attention to the game,” she continued quietly, her breath warm against his skin. “All I could think about was that you were talking to Romilda.”
“Romilda was talking,” he said. “I was watching the match.”
“Didn’t matter,” she said. “I wanted to be where she was, sitting next to you. I didn’t want to be playing Quidditch.”
“But you love Quidditch.”
Several long moments passed before she responded. “No. I don’t think I do anymore. I meant what I said about quitting.”
“You’re just not feeling well. And the weather-”
“It’s not the weather,” she said irritably, pulling back to look at him. “I just don’t care anymore, okay? It’s a stupid game, for Merlin’s sake. We’ve just been through a war. People died. What effin’ difference does it make who catches a stupid little ball with wings?”
He searched her eyes. She was right, of course. But this was a Ginny he didn’t know; the cynicism and hopelessness he saw in her face worried him.
“You’re right,” he said quietly. “It’s not important.”
She looked satisfied and laid her head back on his shoulder.
Harry worked her hair free of its braid so it could dry, then rested his cheek against her head and lost track of the time as he idly ran his fingers through the damp strands. Gradually, he began to notice that the emptiness from the night before was gone. Of course, he’d known all along what it was he longed for, but as he held her now, felt her soft breath against his neck, inhaled her delicate floral scent, he felt as if he had come home from a long journey. Comfortable and contented, he could think of nothing that could make life more wonderful than it was at this minute.
Ginny shifted slightly in his arms and pressed her lips to the sensitive spot below his ear. His sluggish body sprang to life. Okay, maybe there was one more thing that could make life absolutely perfect.
He felt her smile against him as she noticed his reaction. She trailed tiny kisses up to his jaw and he tipped his head to cover her mouth with his. Merlin, she tasted good. His tongue invited hers to dance and he buried his fingers in her hair, wondering briefly-ever so briefly-if he was taking advantage of her weakened state. But the thought flitted away when she purred and began trailing her fingers down his neck and beneath the collar of his shirt to work loose the buttons on the front. When her hand splayed across his bare chest, he moaned into her, torn between wanting to encourage her and needing to push her away. If she kept this up, he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to stop.
“Ginny,” he said, finally drawing back and breathing heavily. “We have to stop-”
“No.” She pulled him back. “Don’t. Want. To,” she said breathlessly between kisses.
Harry tried desperately to hold on to his self-control, but when she pressed her open mouth to his and wiggled her bum against him, he knew he was lost. So when she suddenly released him and jumped from his lap, he groaned loudly in protest. His addled brain couldn’t quite process that she was trying to pull him up with her.
“Come on, Harry, stand up!”
He followed her blindly across the room and gazed in wonder at the bed that he hadn’t noticed until she pushed him down on it and removed his glasses to set them on the night table. And after a moment, he no longer cared about unexpected furniture or magical rooms, only about the redhead sitting on top of him, struggling to get their clothes off. Once he started helping, it didn’t take long to remove all the barriers.
Oh, she felt so good against him, like pale silk draped around him, fitting perfectly into every curve. But, even so, he couldn’t get close enough to her. The need to fill her, to become part of her, was taking over his entire being. He rolled on top of her and kissed her as if she were his only link to life.
She pulled away, gasping for air. “Harry, please…”
Her voice sounded as desperate as he felt. When she reached down to move him into position, the sensation of his most sensitive spot touching her there jolted him back to reality. The enormity of what she was asking, of what they were doing, hit him like a Bludger.
He pushed up on his elbow and summoned his glasses. He needed to see her face.
“Ginny, are you sure?”
“Yes.”
She looked confident, but he hesitated, trying to be sure this wasn’t coming from emotions left over from their argument or the disastrous Quidditch match.
“Yes,” she repeated, her eyes steady, her expression sure.
He studied her for a moment more to be certain. This would be their first time. Well, at least it was his. He hoped it was hers, too, but she’d dated more people than he had. No, he wouldn’t think about that now. She moved impatiently beneath him. He pushed his doubts away and, at her encouraging nod, began to ease into her.
Annoyingly, Ron’s voice began to echo in his head.
It hurts them the first time, ya know. You have to go slow. There’s a piece of skin or something-Hermione called it the haymen… hymen… something like that. You have to break through it and it hurts like hell. Even after that, you have to take it easy until she gets used to you…
At the time, Harry had been embarrassed beyond belief by Ron’s drunken recounting of the experience, but he hadn’t been able to overcome his fascinated revulsion to stop the telling. He’d laughed at the image of Hermione giving textbook instructions during such an intimate act. But now, seeing the grimace on Ginny’s face, her eyes closed, bottom lip caught between her teeth, Harry was eternally grateful for the knowledge.
“I don’t want to hurt you. I can stop…”
“It can’t be helped, Harry. Just do it and get it over with.”
He eased in a bit further and met resistance-and breathed out a small sigh of relief. She didn’t seem to notice as she bit down on her lip and drew in a sharp breath.
“Ginny, I-”
“Just do it, Harry.”
The look on her face was killing him, but the feel of her around him was indescribable. He remained still, allowing the battle to rage within.
“Harry-” She looked at him in exasperation.
He closed his eyes and thrust hard, wanting to be sure he had to do it only once. Her whimper of pain escaped through clenched teeth and he lowered himself to hold her close and kiss her.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he murmured.
“It’s okay. I’m okay,” she whispered, her voice tight. “Just give me a minute…”
He nodded against her hair and kissed her neck. He tried to be as still as possible but after a few moments the realization of what they’d done, of where he was, seeped into his brain. Every nerve ending in his body was focused on the feel of her cradling him. The urge to move became almost too much to bear.
“I’m okay, Harry. Go ahead,” she whispered, her voice and body more relaxed.
He pushed himself up on his elbows so he could watch her face as he began to move with slow strokes. She winced, but didn’t cry out.
“Tell me-tell me if I need to stop.”
She nodded and held his gaze steadily.
But as he began moving faster, he was quickly past the point of stopping. Within moments, stars exploded in his head and, with a great shout, he collapsed onto her, shuddering and panting for breath. She wrapped her arms around him and stroked his back until he settled back to earth.
Easing out of her, he gathered her up and poured all of his emotions into a kiss that left them both breathless. He rolled over and pulled her onto his chest, his body still thrumming as they lay quietly for several long moments.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered hoarsely when he could finally engage his brain and make his voice work. “That wasn’t much fun for you, was it?”
She kissed him and snuggled up under his chin. “No. But it’ll be better next time.”
Next time. She was really going to let him do it again? The thought triggered a reaction he knew she wasn’t ready for yet.
“I love you,” he said, squeezing her tightly.
He could feel her smile against his shoulder. “I love you, too.”
She pushed up on her elbow so she could look into his eyes. “So, how was it for you?”
He couldn’t help the grin that split his face. “Brilliant! Fantastic! Incredible!”
“Better than flying?” she teased.
“Oh, loads better. It was better than snatching the Snitch from under Malfoy’s nose and eating your mum’s treacle tart in celebration. It was better than Christmas and my birthday all rolled into one.” He gave her a mischievous look. “It was better than defeating Voldemort.”
She giggled. “That good, huh?”
“Yeah. That good,” he said with a sigh. “I’m sorry I couldn’t make the first time as good for you, too.”
She opened her eyes wide in surprise. “That was your first time?”
It was his turn to be surprised. “Well, yeah. What’d you think?”
She dropped her eyes and shrugged. “I don’t know. I just figured-well, I never knew how far things went with Cho…”
He huffed. “She was too broken up over Cedric and I was too stupid to know what to do then anyway.”
“…and you’ve had all those women throwing themselves at you since the war.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“I didn’t mean that! It’s just, well, I grew up with six brothers. And, several of them liked-well, variety.
“Well, I don’t.”
“What about Daphne?”
Harry snorted.
“Well, you dated her.”
“I escorted her to one party and that was a publicity stunt. I didn’t even kiss her goodnight.”
Ginny snuggled back under his chin.
“I’m glad I was your first.”
“And my last.”
Her head popped back up, eyes wide.
He studied her seriously for a moment, then pushed them both up to sit facing each other. Her eyes were wide, questioning. He watched her, wondering if he dared, then the words tumbled out before he could stop them.
“I love you, Ginny. Marry me.”
Her mouth fell open, closed, and opened again. Harry held up his hand and a small black box flew from his cloak to his palm. He opened it and held it out for her to see. Nestled in dark green velvet, an oval emerald flanked by heart-shaped diamonds winked from a golden ring. She put her hand over her mouth as a sob escaped and tears welled in her eyes.
“It was my mum’s. I found it in my vault. Look. There’s an inscription.”
Ginny brushed at her tears and squinted at the inside of the ring:
LE-JP 1978 Love conquers all.
The tears started afresh. “Oh, Harry. It’s beautiful.”
Worried that he’d mucked it up he gave her an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. I meant to make it more romantic, like Ron did with Hermione. I should’ve-well-it just kind of slipped out…”
“No!” She was smiling now, to his great relief. “No, it was just right.” She pinned him to the pillows with a kiss that threatened to cut off his air supply.
When they parted, he gave her a quizzical look. “So? Will you?”
“Yes, you prat. Of course, I will.”
As he slipped the ring on her finger, it magically sized to fit her perfectly. He caught his breath at the look on her face.
“Harry Potter, you’ve just made my first time absolutely perfect.”
Her bubbly laugh made him grin. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard her laugh like that and his heart flipped to know that he’d been able to do that for her. Maybe things were going to be okay after all.
Chapter 9
Prologue