Disclaimer: Obviously, none of these characters are mine. The Harry Potter universe (inclusive of Hogwarts School, all recognizable characters mentioned, and all institutions, situations, events and happenings) is copyrighted by J.K. Rowling and her corporate affiliates. The following work is fan fiction and is considered by the author to be a respectful parody of Ms. Rowling's work while acknowledging its derivative status. No commercial use of this work is intended nor is any revenue being made from it or any website on which it may be archived.

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Harry sat hunched over his desk, watching the words of his textbook blur in the flickering candlelight. Quiddich season kept him up late all too often in an effort to keep up with his studies. But it was a game he'd loved the moment he'd seen. A game he'd mastered, nearly effortlessly, the first time he'd played. He'd miss it after graduation. He'd miss a lot of things.

Staring off into space, he was startled by the sound of uneven footsteps outside his door. Glancing at his watch, he frowned. Two-thirty in the morning was a bit late for visitors, especially on a school night. Walking cautiously to the door, he listened for a brief second before jerking the door open. Standing with her fist posed to knock was a glassy-eyed Ginny Weasley.

"Knock. Knock." She rapped her knuckles on Harry's forehead before breaking into a fit of giggles.

Looking both ways and finding the hall empty, he caught her arm and pulled her into his room, quickly bolting the door. As Head Boy, he enjoyed the perk of having his own room in which to study and sleep, but occasionally missed the camaraderie of the dorms. Tonight he was grateful for the solitude.

"Virginia Louise Weasley," He frowned at her disheveled appearance, "You're drunk!"

Knodding her flame colored hair, cut in a shoulder length bob, she answered shortly, "Yup," before squinting around his room with vague curiosity.

"Drunk. And hot!" she added, before dropping her robes in a heap on the floor, leaving Harry to goggle briefly at her scant clothing. 'When did little Ginny develop breasts?' And, following her shape down to her toes and back up with round eyes, thought to himself, 'When did little Ginny develop a stripper's body?' Shaking the thought out of his head (this was Ron's little sister, for Christ's sake) he looked into her heart-shaped face and noted her eyes, large, green, heavily lashed.

Great. He finally gets a nearly naked babe in his room … and it's one he can't touch.

Reaching out, he clasped her arms and tilted his head down to her level before gently asking, "What are you doing here, Ginny?"

Swaying a little, her eyes turned to saucers as she felt her heart nearly burst in her chest. This is why she'd come. This was the moment. Tell him. Tell him. Feeling the words swell with fear and stick in her throat, she responded the only way she knew how.

Lurching forward and up on her toes, she startled him by throwing her arms around his neck, and sealing her warm, moist mouth to his.

Reaching up to unlatch her hands, he groaned as he felt her soft curves pressing urgently against him. Her lips, soft and full, had an immediate effect on his nervous system and he felt himself respond despite his better intentions. Moving his hands down, he wrapped them around her and pulled her tightly against him, returning her kiss as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Ginny sighed in pleasure, and tangling her fingers in his thick, beautiful hair, pulled him down to deepen the kiss. Her probing tongue sent another flash of lust through Harry's system, and eyes rolling back into his head, he grasped her closer still. It took a moment for the strong taste of butterbeer to reach his consciousness.

Straightening up suddenly, he shoved her arms' length away from him, breathing raggedly. When she stumbled to throw herself against him once more, he caught and twirled her around to a sitting position on the end of his bed, and taking several steps back, stood frowning at her, hands perched at his hips.

When she made a move to stand, he startled her by snapping shortly, "Sit down!" Raised in a large houseful of loud, outspoken redheads who bellowed in anger, she was caught off-guard by the soft-spoken threat in his voice. Ginny sat still, feeling her heart pounding wildly in her chest.

Staring hard into her large, ocean green eyes, Harry asked again, "What are you doing here, Ginny?"

"I … I …." Squirming uncomfortably under his direct gaze, she felt her mouth go dry as she searched for a response.

"Gin-ny!"

Shivering at the uncharacteristic hint of menace in his tone, she swallowed loudly and spoke up in a small voice. "I wanted … I wanted to tell you something."

Feeling torn between wanting to kiss her or shake her, Harry kept her pivoted with a level look. "Tell me what?"

Ginny attempted to speak through a throat that appeared to be shrinking by the moment.

"I … I …"

Tired and frustrated, Harry stepped forward and grasping her by the arms, pulled her up closely to his tilted head.

"You what?" He took in the deepening color on her pale cheeks, and the large dilation of her pupils.

Swallowing audibly, Ginny spoke in a low, quivering whisper before her courage fled.

"Harry. I love you." Terrified of his response, she squeezed her eyes shut and waited with bated breath. An effort that, unfortunately, in her inebriated state, robbed the few remaining actively functioning brain cells of their oxygen and promptly caused her to drop in a dead faint.

Catching her beneath the armpits, Harry held the collapsed girl tightly, consternation marking his features. Moving to place her gently onto the floor, he sat back and studied her blank features.

Did Ron's baby sister just say she loved him? What on earth? Was it her speaking or the butterbeer? And what the hell was he going to do with a passed out girl in his room?

Covering her with her robe, he found himself mesmerized by her pixie-like features. She was a handful and a half, if rumor were correct. And while she seemed to run through boyfriends like water through a sieve, few had managed to achieve or hold the upper hand in the relationship. In fact, she seemed to play with boys, like a child with toys, dropping the current favorite when a newer model entered the scene.

'Probably thinks she has a crush on me this week, the fickle little twerp,' Harry thought, shaking his head. Sighing heavily, he reached for his wand, and levitated her to walk to the fireplace. Giving in to a strong urge, he tucked his wand away, and moved his arms under her slight form to lift her before stepping into the fireplace and saying quietly, "Ginny Weasley's room."

Placing her gently on the one vacant bed, he moved with quiet stealth to return to his own room. Lying flat on his bed, he wondered how much of the evening Ginny would remember. He felt uncomfortable with his sudden awareness of her – well - blatant femininity. Certainly he'd heard of her reputation with boys, but thought of her as little more than the willful little sister of his best friend. After holding her lush form in his arms and meshing tongues, he suddenly saw her in a new light. Whether he wanted to or not.

With thoughts of her teasing his consciousness, Harry fell into a fitful sleep.