Warnings for the fic: Slightly A/U, doesn't follow Epilogue's timeline and ignores some info from JKR not included in the books. Adult language and situations.
Warnings for the chapter: Hangovers, ackwardness, angst/drama, sex, and Quidditch-Sex analogies.
Disclaimer: HP is not mine.
A/N: The first three chapters only contain minimal humor. They are more of a set-up/backstory to the rest of the story.
A/N2: Much thanks to J for being a patient and helpful beta.
Chapter 2 – The Morning After and the Sex
Harry woke up slowly. The first thing he became aware of was that his head felt like he had tried the Wronski Feint, but had ploughed head-first into the pitch, instead of pulling up. His mouth, he realized, tasted like a pygmy puff had crawled inside, shed all its fur and then died. The light pressing onto his closed eyelids was the next thing he noticed. It was like someone had turned the sunlight into ice picks and was trying to drill them into his brain by way of his eye sockets. He rolled slightly to his left, seeking the darkness of his pillow, when he felt something that drove the pain in his head completely away.
He wasn't alone in his bed.
'Is this my bed?' The panic Harry felt at that moment was huge. He never, ever went home with a woman when he'd been drinking. Bringing a witch to his flat was out of the question as well because then she'd be able to tell the press where to find him and Muggle women wouldn't have made it past the Repelling Charms. 'So, where am I?'
It may have been years since he had spent time as an Auror, but the training had never really left him. Using all of the senses had been a favourite lesson of Robards and had been one Harry had excelled at. The hangover and lack of glasses made using his eyes a bad idea, so he began with his ears.
The person beside him was breathing steadily, so he assumed she was still asleep. At least, Harry hoped it was a she. Before he could panic about being so drunk he went home with a man, he listened intently for the sounds from outside the room they were in. He couldn't hear anything indicating there was someone else in the flat or house, but he heard some birds chirping outside of the window. It wasn't long before he realized he heard cars and trucks outside, and to his relief, he heard Old Man Jensen yelling at the delivery driver, just like every morning. Harry was in his own flat.
That still didn't tell him who was in bed with him or how the person had got there. He tried cracking open an eye, but closed it again right away when the pain in his head made him nauseous. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he realized he could smell something familiar that he knew wasn't from his flat.
He took another deep breath trying to remember where he had smelled that flowery scent before. It hit him that the scent came from the woman pressed up against him at the same time his brain kicked in. It was Ginny's hair.
'Oh bloody hell! What did I do last night?!' Harry began panicking. 'How did I end up in bed with Ginny Weasley?' He knew he was wearing pyjama bottoms and a quick run of his hand from her hip to her waist proved that she was wearing some sort of a top and bottoms.
While he pushed his mind to remember what happened the previous night, he didn't really notice that his body was taking advantage of its position, gently pressing his erection against the curve of her backside. After several minutes, he had finally recalled most of the night before, including Ginny falling asleep next to him when he felt Ginny press back against him, grinding against his hard penis.
__________________________________________________
It was one of those damn dreams again. It was frustrating and altogether unsatisfying, but bloody hell, she just couldn't stop!
'At least I don't have a roommate to yell at me for calling out Harry's name in my sleep anymore.' Ginny smiled, imagining the feel of Harry's hands lightly tracing her body and pressing up against her as he spooned her from behind. As far as fantasies went, this was pretty tame, but it was a more difficult dream for Ginny than simply imagining having really hot sex with Harry Potter. This fantasy was something more than a physical relationship. It hurt a little to think that she might never experience waking up next to him.
"Mmmm. Harry, that feels nice." Dimly, she registered that she was talking out loud, but she was still in that wonderful land between dreams and reality. She arched her back, thinking she would rub up against a pillow or her balled up duvet. It was the hard body pressing back against her that shocked her awake.
"Merlin, Gin." The groan came from close to her ear and a large hand gripped her hip. She could easily feel the man's erection sliding over her bum. Her eyes flew open and she winced a little as her hangover made itself known.
'Who the bloody hell is behind me?' She took a couple of deep breaths to calm herself, but they only served to make her chest heave, which made her wonder if he had touched her breasts, which made her wonder if they were naked, which made her wonder… 'Oh fuck, I'm not on any potions and I know I can't cast the charm drunk! If I'm pregnant, Mum will yell at me until I'm deaf right after Coach Dawson gets through murdering me! My career is over and my brothers won't ever leave me alone again!' This didn't help with the whole calming breath thing and it wasn't long before she was hyperventilating.
She didn't notice when the man shifted away and shook her, but she did notice when she received a full blast of cold water to her face. Ginny looked up, ready to yell at the bastard who'd gotten her pregnant, only to find herself speechless.
"Are you okay? Merlin, Ginny, you were scaring me!" Harry's eyes were intense and the concern in them was palpable. When he noticed she had calmed down, he looked away sheepishly. "Sorry about hitting you with Aguamenti, but you didn't seem to notice when I yelled your name."
Taking a deep breath, Ginny gathered her inner Gryffindor and asked the burning question. "Harry, did we have sex last night?" The guilty look on his face did not bode well for his answer.
"No," Ginny breathed a sigh of relief and wondered at his odd expression. "No, we just came back here after the team party at that pub. We were both drunk. You couldn't find your keys and didn't want to go to Ron and Hermione's for your spare set."
Well, that answered most of her questions. "I could hex Bill for setting my wards so tight. The only way in is through a secure Floo or with keys that have the ward's signature on it. Bloody frustrating is what it is." She looked at Harry, but feeling her face begin to flush at being so close to his naked chest, she quickly looked away and said the first thing that came to mind.
"If you'll let me take a shower first, I'll make a big Weasley breakfast for us." She glanced up again just in time to see Harry turn to look at a clock by his bed.
"That's fine." Harry stood up and seemed to be thinking hard about something before he spoke up again. "Everything you need should be in the bathroom. I think I have some old jeans we can size for you and it's not like you don't steal my shirts all the time anyway." Ginny giggled a little at that. It was true; Harry was always complaining that all of his most comfortable shirts ended up in Ginny's possession.
Harry rubbed his forehead, "I think some Hangover Helper is in order. Do you want yours before or after your shower?"
Ginny thought about it for a minute and decided the bright lights of Harry's bathroom would be too much for her head. "Definitely before." Harry nodded and walked out of his bedroom towards his kitchen where Ginny knew he stored his potions, so she followed him.
Soon they were both making faces at the awful taste and sighing in relief. Ginny felt much more like herself. The pain and fuzziness in her head had made it difficult to focus and be rational. Now that the fog had lifted, she realized she had a perfect opportunity to find out if the looks and gentle flirting Harry had sent her way the last few months meant anything.
Ginny cast a quick breath-freshening charm on herself and then on Harry. The Hangover Helper relieved the aches and pains of drinking too much, but only made your breath worse. Harry smiled in thanks, which caused Ginny's stomach to do its familiar swoop. Suddenly, escaping to the shower seemed like a terrible idea.
"So, did you have fun with the bloke you were dancing with?" Harry's question threw Ginny completely off guard, but it was the hard look in his eyes that had her narrowing her own.
"Yeah, well, he did ask me to dance. I would have rather danced with someone, er, better, but no one better asked." He seemed to perk up a little.
"How do you determine if someone is better?" Harry's voice had become lower and the temperature in the kitchen seemed to rise several degrees.
Ginny's tongue darted out to wet her lips and she couldn't help but notice that his eyes were focused on the action. "I, well it's not something I can really describe. I'd just know." Harry had taken a couple of steps towards her, but stopped at her reply. 'Damnit, Ginny! You're making him think you aren't interested in him. Suck up the Gryffindor pride and go for it!'
She took a deep breath and forced herself to look directly into those deep green eyes. "Better would be someone that makes my heart beat faster. I'd want to touch him." She took a step towards Harry, which put her only an arm's length away. "I wouldn't be able to stop myself, in fact."
Still looking into his eyes, she reached up and ran her fingers gently over his cheek. Harry sucked in a breath, which made Ginny feel as though he was drawing her to him. She took another small step to him and moved her thumb over his lips. His eyes darkened and narrowed and he seemed to be searching her for an answer to his unasked question. "You're better," she whispered.
In a flash, he had pulled her flush to him and his lips crashed onto hers.
______________________________________________________________________________
Harry Potter had never felt that the phrase 'Quidditch is life' applied to him. He only followed the trainers' specific diets during the season, he worked out because he still saw himself as a skinny shrimp and he rarely compared anything to Quidditch. Even after living with Seamus Finnegan, 'King of the Sexual Euphuisms' for six years Harry had never thought of sex and Quidditch as remotely similar.
That is, until now. It wasn't the things he had heard his dorm-mates discussing that came to mind, however. Seamus would have been disappointed that not once did Harry think that his fingers were "seeking her Golden Snitch" or that "Ginny had a lovely set of Quaffels." When he finally slid his penis inside of her, it never occurred to him to ask Ginny to ride his broomstick.
Honestly, there was very little thinking being done other than, 'Merlin, Ginny's mouth feels SO good' and 'She shuddered when I licked right…THERE.' Somewhere in the back of his mind, however, he was making comparisons to Quidditch.
It was the way she moved with him now that made him think of how she moved in the air. Ginny was constantly in motion, changing positions and running her hands and mouth over his body. There was a sense of teamwork the entire time.
Sex with Ginny was like flying on his Lightening Bolt: fast and furious, but smooth and graceful. Like his broom, she responded to the slightest of his touches (and he to her own caresses as well).
He felt Ginny clench around him more than once. The moment she straddled him and then flipped around to face his legs, he came undone. The last coherent thought was that he had fantasized about Ginny flying naked when they were in school.