Author's Note: Hello, lovelies. I'm planning on this fanfiction to span 15-20 chapters, with each installment alternating between Harry/Ginny and Ron/Hermione romantic events. I use Jo's canon and interviews as a framework for my stories. My writing is mature and intended for audience above 17. Please enjoy and leave a review! The more reviews I get, the more motivated I will be to update and finish this tale.

Tuesday, August 11th, 1998

The Battle of Hogwarts, which is what the Wizarding World would later refer to as the definitive end to the Second Wizarding War, had taken the lives of hundreds on both sides of the field. The Dark Wizards, who had numbered fewer than the Good Wizards, had lost most of their force to the Battle of Hogwarts and later skirmishes. As the hot summer of 1998 started to come to a close, Harry Potter felt a sense of relief and peace he could not remember feeling in his entire life. Sure, he had probably felt so before Voldemort had killed his parents. But he had only been a little more than a year old at the time, and the only things he recalled from this time in his life were those bright flashes of green light and the high-pitched laughter intermingled with his mother's desperate pleas to take her life instead of her son's.

Harry took a sip of the earl grey tea Ginny had made him thoughtfully. He knew that Voldemort and every fragment of his soul were no longer on this earth. The repulsive creature he had seen in his King's Cross version of limbo had surely gone "on", and the absence of the scar twinges and visions from Harry was proof the dark wizard had at last parted the mortal world forever. His appetite was meager but he had been sleeping fairly well given the circumstances.

Yet it was difficult for him to enjoy the wake of the war. He had been to eleven funerals in the past two months. Fred Weasley's had been immediately after the Battle, but other families had saved their burials to perhaps space out the grief felt by the wizarding community. Harry, for one, was grateful for this. He wasn't sure how much more guilt he could take after Lupin and Tonks' quiet funeral last Friday. Andromeda Tonks had been so cordial to him despite the fact that grief had obviously claimed her entire body. She looked even more like Bellatrix than ever with sunken eyes and her brown hair unkempt and graying. She would be raising Teddy Tonks, as if there had ever been any question about it. She stated sorrowfully that her house would be empty with Ted and Nymphadora dead, so the baby boy would bring light to her dark world. Hermione, who was still recovering from her Cruciatus torture at the hands of Bellatrix, avoided Andromeda at all costs and stayed glued to Ron.

Ron had taken a somber disposition in the midst of all the sadness and repair. Although Fred had always taunted Ron and been a source of ridicule and some downright dreadful memories, he was his brother after all and his loss could therefore never be fully filled. Ron let his hair grow out and was sporting a wispy beard on his chin not unlike the one Viktor had donned at Bill and Fleur's wedding. He had spent most of his summer with his large family, especially his mother, whom he comforted when she burst into tears as she so often did nowadays. Molly Weasley now looked like she had never been overweight at all. Her pleasantly plump flesh was now hanging loosely on her short frame. She appeared to have aged ten years in the space of the past few months after Fred's death. Arthur Weasley's kind face hardly smiled anymore, and his shocking red hair was turning white at the temples. Harry's heart ached with remorse every time he saw them, but the old couple never wavered in their gratitude for his hand in ending the war. As Molly put it, "Fred would have wanted us to get on with our lives and make the most of it. Even George is talking about reopening the joke shop, so why can't the rest of us move on?"

Although Molly and Arthur offered for Harry to stay at the Burrow as long as he needed to, he was staying at Grimmauld Place for the time being. Seeing as most of the Secret Keepers and the Death Eaters that knew its whereabouts were dead, the location was secure, albeit a constant reminder of Sirius Black and the other Order members who had perished in order to keep Harry alive. He needed an escape from all the business that had cluttered his daily life, so the empty property he had inherited suited him perfectly. Kreacher continued to serve Harry dutifully, the fake locket still gleaming from his scrawny chest as he bustled about Grimmauld Place, cooking and cleaning ardently. There hardly went a day that the young wizard was alone, however. The summer had been punctuated by visits from several important figures in Harry's life – Rubeus Hagrid, Minerva McGonagall, Luna Lovegood, Neville Longbottom and his grandmother, Augusta, and each of the Weasleys, including an emaciated but coping George. At least three days a week Ron and Hermione visited Harry, always together, but not quite letting on they were a couple. Ginny spent at least five days a week with Harry. When combined with the weekly visit to the Burrow, he was seeing her almost every day. And he wasn't complaining.

It was as if he had never referred to her as an ex-girlfriend. In his mind, their breakup had merely been a brief pause in what would inevitably be a lifelong affair. Harry had never loved a person, let alone a woman, as much as Ginevra Molly Weasley.

On the first day of August, there had been far too many people for the confines of the Burrow as everyone Harry knew crammed into the home to celebrate the hero's date of birth. Molly Weasley decided that they would celebrate Ginny and Harry's birthday on the same day. She had made a vast, multi-layered cake with miniature broomsticks flying about it, donning green icing that spelled, Happy Birthday, Ginny and Harry! Harry mostly received clothing and a few books about traveling abroad from Hermione, but also got a new grey owl with large, yellow eyes whom he had named (what Ginny had strongly suggested) Atticus.

Tonight, sitting at the freshly-scrubbed wooden table in the dim firelight of the basement stone room, Harry had invited Ginny over to his dark abode so he could wish her a proper happy birthday. She was seventeen today, and was now legally a witch of adult age in the Wizarding World. This birthday was important for various reasons. Her Underage Trace would be removed and she would be able to do magic outside of Hogwarts, where she would be returning to in precisely three weeks' time. She could now test and get her Apparating license, which would put her in the records at the Ministry of Magic, establishing her as an independent citizen. Her first banking account at Gringott's Wizarding Bank had been opened last week, which Harry discreetly deposited 50 Galleons into without her noticing. Most important to Harry about her seventeenth birthday, however, was the fact that she was an adult who could make decisions for herself. Decisions about her career, where she would live, about her body…

Harry sipped the strong tea. It had had a chance to steep and cool quite a bit while he had been thinking and was soothing and warm on his sore throat. He had been talking all day long to Ron, Hermione, and Kingsley Shacklebolt about what the next few years would bring. He loved that he could now think about his future and the endless possibilities – the last few years he had always had the mindset that he would be deader than a doornail before his eighteenth birthday.

"So let me get this straight - Shacklebolt wants both you and Ron to join him in rounding up the last of the Death Eaters and not to return to Hogwarts?" Ginny inquired of Harry, brushing a piece of her long, fiery red hair behind her left ear. "And for how long is this supposed to be happening, exactly?"

Harry, who had not expected the slightest bit of resistance from Ginny, said, "I don't know how long. Yes, Ron and Neville Longbottom are coming too. He reckons that we have all seen enough of the Death Eaters to be able to identify them, and said that we all showed we have mastered enough magical knowledge because we kind of survived a full-out war and defeated Voldemort." He had tried to lighten the mood with the last part of this, but given Ginny's very Mollyish look of concern, it had failed and fell flat in the stale air.

Ginny sat down opposite of Harry at the table, her expression melting into an unreadable blank stare. She was wearing a hunter green tank top with lacy sleeves he couldn't remember seeing her wear before with ornate, pearly buttons down the front. He focused on each one of them, counting six that looked so easy to unclasp…

It was hard to believe that at the beginning of this year, he had been obsessively watching her dot on the Marauder's Map whenever he had the chance during his adventures. He specifically remembered when he, Ron, and Hermione had visited Xenophilius Lovegood's odd cylindrical house. He had looked out the curved window longingly, trying to catch a glimpse or any sign of Ginny or the Burrow over the hills of St. Ottery Catchpole. In this summer moment he had her, but they would be saying goodbye again in too soon of time. He had to shake this from his thoughts, though. He was supposed to be doing what was best for her and he had to be firm about them separating the next nine months.

He gave her a few more minutes to sulk before saying, "We'll only be separated for a year. Less than that, even. I'll see you at Christmas, Easter, and whenever I can between that. Hermione and Luna are both going back to Hogwarts so you'll have them. And I'll be fine, I really will. It sounds like Kingsley has really strong leads," he added earnestly. One of the reasons he loved Ginny was that she was less prone to being a worrywart like Hermione. He knew she would not force him to do anything he didn't want, she had learned long ago that Harry was just as stubborn as she was. The redhead considered him, meeting his green eyes with her chocolate brown ones. They warmed as her face broke out in a reluctant sort of smile.

"I suppose I can survive a year without you," she sighed. "But you need to owl me as much as you can, update me on all the action. Merlin knows I'll need it with the N.E.W.T.s and all."

"You're going to be in seventh year?" Harry asked, setting down his mug with a heavy clink. He had assumed she would want to redo her sixth year, when she had been forced into hiding at her Aunt Muriel's after Easter holiday. Several of her professors, such as the Carrows, had been known Death Eaters, wreaking terror and exposing Dark Magic to the youth and although Severus Snape was protecting the students as Headmaster, he had not been a pleasant one. Surely she would want to retake those vital classes and wait before having to take her most important exams? Ginny seemed to have read his mind with her answer.

"I learned enough, and I don't really care about the N.E.W.T.s either because I already have been talking to Gwenog Jones about joining the Holyhead Harpies after I graduate," Ginny said with a half shrug. "Plus Hermione has offered to tutor all the students who went last year and didn't learn much. She said something about holding study sessions a couple weeks before term and then a couple of weeknights during the school year. She already has lesson plans and study schedules drawn up."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" Harry laughed. It echoed in the large room strangely, as though this dank dungeon-like kitchen had never contained such a sound. The silence that replaced it became overbearing to Harry, who had been waiting anxiously all day to see his girlfriend. So she had already been offered a position on the Holyhead Harpies? He felt a mixture of jealousy and pride as he gazed at her. This explained her recent change in appearance though. She had always been slender, but now she was tight and muscular. Knowing her fierce determination to achieve what she wanted, Harry imagined she had been flying every spare minute she had gotten this summer.

"So… happy birthday," he said cheerfully, grabbing her hand from across the table. He felt her hand stiffen under his. It was so small and warm, with freckles cascading up the top of it and up to her arms, even extending to her to her muscled shoulder. Where else do you have freckles? Harry wondered. Ginny caught him eyeballing her and snickered, "Whatcha looking at?"

Harry blushed slightly, but did not tear his eyes away immediately. They both knew why they were here. The stolen moments at the Burrow and between funerals just wasn't cutting it for either of them. He looked to her bemused expression in the dancing firelight and said, "Ginny, do you remember last year on my birthday? When we were in your room and you said you didn't know what to get me?"

"And then Ron barged in," Ginny supplied. "How could I forget?"

"Well," said Harry tentatively. He did not know how to express what he wanted so dearly. "Am I still going to get it?"

"It?" parroted Ginny in mock indignation. "Today is my birthday, Harry. I already had to share a party with you a couple weeks ago, don't you think you at least need to be the one giving me the stuff today?"

"Maybe we can kill two birds with one stone," Harry said in what he hoped was a steady voice. "You know - if what your present was fits in with what mine is, all for the better."

This caused a familiar spark in Ginny's eyes, a gleam he knew she used when she was planning something mischievous. She sprang to her feet, her hand sliding out from under Harry's suddenly clammy one. Harry followed suit, nearly knocking over the empty mug as he rose to his feet. She was giving him that hard, blazing look she had given him before they had kissed after she had won the Quidditch Cup in her fifth year. His eyes hungrily lowered to the top button of her shirt. Those blasted six buttons that he had to undo to get to what the monster in his chest so greedily desired…

Suddenly, the top ornate button flew off, striking the edge of a stone counter and coming to the ground with a tremendous clatter for its size. Ginny let out an involuntary gasp at this accidental magic, which caused the second button to pop off and whirr across and off the long table. With the top two buttons undone, Harry could see the swell of her pale, freckled flesh…

"Harry!" she exclaimed, sounding both alarmed and encouraged. She climbed on top of the table gracefully and crawled towards him in a fluid, catlike way. He could see down her green blouse. Her bra was pale pink and had a floral pattern, and there was a small pink bow where the two cups met in the middle. Harry could start to feel his pants becoming uncomfortably tight in the front, and fleetingly tried to remember what underpants he had chosen that day. With relief, he realized it had been a pair of plain black ones that he certainly had sniffed to determine cleanliness.

He seized her face in his hands. Her head was directly at his height as she knelt in front of him, sucking at his bottom lip affectionately and feeling the slight scratch of his stubble against her chin. Her touch was wonderful to feel even though he was getting quite a lot of it nowadays. He loved the flowery scent of her hair, the slightly musty yet deliciously familiar smell of her skin and scalp. She bit his top lip, perhaps a little too hard, causing him to yelp then moan in pleasure. His erection was now fighting to be released, pressing against the bottom of the table he was standing against.

Suddenly, Ginny parted from Harry to reposition herself so she was sitting on the edge of the ancient table. She kicked each leg out so she was straddling his hips, her athletic bottom barely touching the rounded and worn edge. She threw her arms over his shoulders to support herself as she turned her head to kiss him fully on the mouth. Her breath had hints of what tasted like mead, or was that just Harry tasting the leftover Ogden's Old Firewhisky he had downed himself just a few minutes before she had ambled through the fireplace? All he knew was that it was growing damn near impossible for him to hide his erection with her pelvis crushed against the front of his hips, so he let the impressive swell of his member crush against her thigh through the cotton fabric of his trousers. She acknowledged his arousal by purring and shoving her tongue against his dancing one.

"Is anyone coming?" Ginny asked suddenly.

"No," Harry said hurriedly. "I sent Kreacher to Hogwarts to help the staff with the last of the cleanup. Ron and Hermione said they have plans tonight, and I can't think of anyone else who would stop by."

"Good," Ginny smirked as her hand plunged behind his belt and into his pants. He hissed as she dug down to find his throbbing erection. Her hand was caressing his cock through the thin fabric of his knickers, tracing the circumcised head and then kneading his aching, full balls. He let out a pained moan as a strange, tingling sensation shot up his legs and to his anus, which flexed, pleased.

"Please," he managed, and Ginny obliged instantly. She expertly slid her hand in the slit in front of the soft black fabric. This was the first time she had ever touched him down there. The feeling of his bare cock on the slightly callused flesh of her hand was enough to drive Harry insane. Her thumb circled the head of his cock, using the small amount of pre-ejaculation as lubricant. The swirling motion made his cock stand straight out, harder than Goblin-galvanized metal. Harry shuddered as he clumsily undid two more of those cursed pearly buttons on her front. She took her hand out of his pants, unbuttoning and unzipping whilst his shaking hands freed the final two buttons. He interrupted her from going further with her handjob when he pulled down the straps of her tank top and bra. He scooped out her breasts from their flowery cages, first her left, then her right one. He had never seen them before, though he had touched them a bit in a dark and abandoned corridor of Hogwarts and in the broom shed at the Burrow. The color of her areolae was a pleasant peach hue, her nipples small and taut points on her freckled breasts.

"Fuck, you're beautiful," he blurted, looking her in the eyes. He did not know what expression he expected to see on her face, but it was not the sad one her usually content one bore. Was she having second thoughts? "What's up?"

"I've been waiting for this moment for so long," she said apologetically, her voice suddenly small and feeble. He could see the eleven-year-old he had once known in the look she was giving him and was reminded suddenly of the blushing girl who could not even speak in front of him for years. He remembered the mushy but sweet Valentine she had written for him in his second year, the obvious signs she wanted to attend the Yule Ball with him in his fourth year, the fierce dedication she had given Dumbledore's Army in the past few years. He had been so stupid to give the time of day the girl in front of him. He had not noticed her until it was almost too late.

Thankfully there were no tears in her eyes as she continued to look down at her lap. Another reason Harry loved Ginny was she was never one to cry, even though he knew she must be feeling emotional with all that was going on inside her. "I just don't want it to be… I don't know, disappointing…"

"I've never done it either," Harry said, feeling slightly defensive that she was worried his might not stack up to her expectations. "Cho and I only ever snogged. You're the only one I want Ginny. I was so thick to not realize it sooner."

This seemed to boost her spirits slightly. She paused before saying, "Do I taste firewhisky?"

Harry chuckled, scratching the back of his untidy hair. He looked up at her brazenly, his eyes flashing behind his glasses. "Yeah, I had a bit before you came. But I'm pretty sure I taste something on your breath too."

"Just some birthday wine!" Ginny shot back, but she was grinning widely. That grin reminded him so much of Fred and George. "I'd like some of what you had though, if you don't mind."

With his pants still unbuttoned and unzipped, but his erection returned to its normal state, Harry stepped back from her. She shrugged her breasts back into her bra and watched his back as he walked over to a wooden cupboard and procured the bottle of firewhisky and two ornate glasses. He could have conjured them with a spell, but he wanted to give Ginny a moment to make sure she wanted to follow through on becoming a full-fledged witch tonight. He certainly hoped she would let him help her with that.

He poured a generous portion of the bottle between the two glasses. He downed his in one gulp, feeling the burning sensation hit his throat, lungs, and then stomach. He was reminded of the night Mad-Eye Moody had died and the Order had shared the tasty beverage in honor of his sacrifice. Harry gripped Ginny's glass and turned around to bring it to her and perhaps relay this memory…

She was still sitting on the edge of the table, but was suddenly stark naked. Harry nearly dropped the glass as his dick gave a sudden twitch as though abruptly awakened from a nap.

"Give it," she commanded, reaching for the alcohol. She drained the glass even more quickly than Harry had. She wiped away a loose drop that was sliding down her neck with the back of her arm – even this brute act looked graceful when done by her. Harry quickly licked the trail on her neck left by the cinnamon-flavored spirit. His cold fingers caressed her exposed nipples, impatiently wanting to be naked with her.

"More," she commanded, slamming her glass down on the table. Harry obediently fetched the firewhisky and poured each of them another full glass. This one was more difficult to take; each of them coughed heavily as they drained the amber liquid urgently.

"Now you're mine," Harry growled, emboldened by the liquor. He could not wait a second longer. He lowered his trousers and undergarments all at once, the belt buckle clanging noisily on the way to the floor. His erection bobbed in the air, pointing directly at the small patch of ginger hair that hid Ginny's dripping folds. Her legs were clenched together, her eyebrows raised in a daring fashion.

"Is that so?"

Harry seized her thighs, wrenching them apart. It was challenging, as she was fighting against him with all her might, her leg muscles popping out with the effort as she thrashed beneath him. She was giggling playfully, a sound that was childlike but awoke a creature in the depths of Harry's chest. Oh, so she was going to play hard to get? Well he could play hard.

Impulsively he thrust himself into her, causing her to gasp as though shot with a powerful jinx. He could not tell if it was from pain or pleasure or both, so he withdrew slowly, a wet popping noise accompanying his departure.

"Don't leave," she urged, grasping his buttocks and squeezing them as she pulled him back into her.

She felt impossibly hot inside, and moist and slick and smooth and just so wonderful. He had never felt anything like it in all his experiences of sensations in the colorful wizarding world. Her small breasts were bobbing upwards towards her uplifted chin with every thrust of his hips. As he looked down into her face, a surging feeling of intense intimacy stole him. He wildly realized he was on the verge of tears as he stared at her. He had no words to express what she meant to him, and worried what his voice might sound like if he did, so he tried to show her how much he loved her with each movement that somehow came to him with ease, as though he were born to be fucking this ravishing seventeen-year-old on this hot August night.

Ginny was letting out loud, repetitive moans that were almost rehearsed they were so melodious and necessary to hear. They were primal and comforting, egging Harry on as he deliberately yet carefully plunged in and out, in and out of her clenched pussy. He was still wearing his trainers and shirt, but he didn't care – he had taken Ginny Weasley's virginity, and damn did it feel good. The height of the table suited them perfectly, Harry was slightly lower than her so as he worked himself into her, it was at an upwards angle that squeezed him against the wall of her chamber. The only sounds apart from their firewhisky-fueled groans were the crackling of the fire and the creaking of the old house.

Ginny had achieved her first orgasm when she was thirteen years old, during Easter holiday in her third year at Hogwarts. The buzzing, relieving feeling that had washed over her was simple, but she recognized instantly what it had been. She had even expelled a little bit of liquid on her bed sheets as it happened. The adult Ginny wrapped her legs around Harry's waist as she felt the familiar torturous feeling of wanting a resolution to this maddening lovemaking consume her. She hastily lifted his shirt over his head so she could appreciate the full picture of his body slamming into her, taking so much care to make every move count. She propped herself on her elbows and watched him move. His body was as thin as ever, his hip bones poking out and his stomach almost concave. He had fairly sparse black hair on his chest and there was a thin trail reaching from his navel down to the patch of dark hair above his glistening cock. There were scars from his various run-ins over the years that littered his flesh. She did not find them ugly – actually, they were bloody sexy.

"I'm going to come," she cried as the climax hit her first in her undulating womb, and then rippled like a tidal wave to the ends of her fingers and tips of her toes. She gasped as the best orgasm she had ever had came to a too-soon end. She could hear her heavy breathing as though she were an outsider looking in on this explosion then collapsed against Harry's sweaty chest. She could feel his breath was labored and looked down at his dripping, twitching cock.

"Come on, love," she beckoned, grasping his hips and pulling him forward. But he was looking at her with the most peculiar expression. It wasn't sadness, but it was close. Was it regret? Nervousness? Or maybe just hesitation?

"Harry?" she asked weakly, wanting him to get on with it so they could go to bed. She was tired in the afterglow of her release and simply wished to be in his arms.

He broke her gaze and stared at the floor as he said, "Look, I'm not really ready to be someone's fathe – "

"Of course not, don't be daft!" she interrupted impatiently before he could blunder on. "Just pull out or whatever, come on!"

He reciprocated with such gusto she let out a shriek as he thrust into her, hammering her with such intensity that she considered telling him to perhaps let up a bit, but then –

"Oh!" he grunted as he hastily grabbed his length and pulled it out. He shot hot, sticky cum all over her thighs and belly. The evidence of his release all over her pale flesh was an image that he knew he would revisit during his next solo session. When he had emptied what seemed to be the entire contents of his testicles, he placed one hand flat on the table on either side of Ginny's hips, bumping his drenched forehead against hers. His glasses were blurry with all the moisture sticking to them. Minutes, Harry lost track of how many, passed by in bated silence. He could feel radiant, sensitive warmth on his skin, as though his orgasm had left a charm on every inch of his flesh. Eventually Harry grabbed his wand out of the pocket of his trousers on the floor and with a quick wave cleaned the mess off of Ginny. She was silent and staring at him, her eyes sparkling. He could hardly glance at her face because he was afraid of how he would react if he looked too long at the witch whom he loved. The fire was still crackling in the soot-blackened fireplace when Harry grabbed her hand and led her up the stairs.

The room he had been occupying was on the second floor. Kreacher and Hermione had both helped him clean it and make it fit to live in; he had purchased fresh sheets that were the scarlet and gold colors of Gryffindor, and had hung several photos of his most beloved friends and family on the wall. The massive four-poster bed had silky scarlet drawings that were open and inviting to the young lovers. Yet even with these decorations, the room still had a dark and feeling of lost grandeur that also plagued the rest of the rooms.

Harry pulled back the sheets and let Ginny slide in bed, then got in next to her. He spooned her, smelling her sweet hair. She sighed and scooted her bum closer to him so that they almost seemed to be one exhausted, sweaty figure. For what had just happened, Harry found his mind to be surprisingly blank and placid. All that mattered was this woman in his arms and that they were forever bound by this night.

"Happy birthday, Ginny," Harry murmured in her ear. But she was already asleep.