Chapter 7

It was the evening after Harry Potter had been to see his old enemy… and ended up in bed with her.

He hadn't been able to get her out of his head all day. Ginny had commented that he had seemed distracted. His insides had squirmed guiltily at that.

Now they were walking along the main road through Hogsmeade after having a drink at the Hogs Head. Though Aberforth had been his usual gruff self he had insisted their drinks were on the house.

Ginny frowned slightly as the serious expression on his face. He should be happy shouldn't he? They had won. And they could finally be together. No war… no interruptions… just them.

Hogwarts was restarting again in September… only a few months away… and they could do 7th Year together… pick up the pieces of their lives…

A smile broke over her face as she thought of a way she could take that serious look of his face. She put her hand in his. A genuine smile curved the corners of his mouth as he saw her happy expression… the long coppery hair blowing around her face… her green eyes bright… cheeks pink from the wind.

Not caring that anyone might be watching he pulled her to him and placed a gentle kiss on her lips. But even as he kissed her, smelling her fresh sweet scent… feeling her hair tickle his face as she kissed him back… he couldn't get another pair of lips out of his mind.

When they broke apart Ginny was looking at him with that look he remembered from the time she had kissed him in her room… when they were about to… before Ron interrupted…

Her smile widened at the look on his face. "Why don't we go back to Grimmauld Place…" she said in almost a whisper.

He held her hand tightly as they disappeared from Hogsmeade and re-appeared in the master bedroom of 12 Grimmauld Place. Both of their eyes went to the large 4-poster bed with its crimson coverlet.

And then her lips were on his… her arms around his neck… kissing him like she did that day at the Burrow… and it was bliss… but once again he couldn't help thinking of Bella's lips… soft… yet fierce and hungry on his.

His hands wandered down her back to rest on her waist as she pulled him closer… pressing her body against his. He couldn't help thinking of a different… curvier.. more womanly body.

She deftly undid his shirt, letting it fall to the floor.

Thoughts of Bella consumed him as they tumbled on the bed. He could taste Bella on his lips even as he kissed Ginny. He could remember vividly how she had looked… smelt… felt… the noises she had made…

Just the memory of what they had done made certain parts of his anatomy stand up and pay attention.

And then it was Bella… her lips on his skin… her curves pressed against him… her hands on his body… wandering down his torso to undo his belt…

"Bella..." he murmured softly. "What?" snapped a feminine voice.

His vision swam as Bella turned back into Ginny… who looked both hurt and severely annoyed. "What did you call me? She asked in a tone that reminded him forcibly of her mother.

"Uh…" he said, his brain unhelpfully blank. How could he explain saying someone else's name?

"Who the hell is Bella?" she said angrily. "Some girl you…" she started to say, voice trailing off as comprehension dawned on her face. "No. Not her…" ahe said aghast. "Not Bellatrix Lestrange…" she said in a shocked, disgusted voice. Backing away from him.

He said nothing but his shamefaced look confirmed her fears. It had been Bellatrix he'd been fantasizing about.

"I guess she's attractive… if you don't mind Voldemort's sloppy second she said derisively. For a moment anger flashed over his face… and he felt a strange urge to defend Bella.

"I have to go" she said coolly, getting up and rearranging her clothing. "I'm sorry" he said as she turned and went to open the door.

She looked over her shoulder, her expression saying that she understood, but it was going to be hard to forgive him. "I know" she said softly before walking through the door.

Hw sighed heavily, resting his head in his hands.

When he went to do his jeans back up a small piece of paper slipped out of the pocket and fluttered to the floor. He bent down, picked it up and unfolded it.

The ink was black on snowy parchment. The writing was unfamiliar… a fine, spidery hand that was unmistakably feminine. There was only one line.

'I know your thinking about me – B'

He crumpled it up and tossed it with undue force into the trash.

Damn her he thought. Damn her.