A/N
This whole chapter is a flashback from Harry' point of view
~summerlovin'
"Okay Ginny, time for bed," I say, hauling the inebriated girl to her feet. I had waved off a worried Ron and a furious Hermione at the front door and I was sure they were safely back at their apartment by now. What a way to spend their honeymoon; with the groom's little sister. They might as well have one night to themselves without having to worry about the thinness of the walls. "Although," I thought to myself, "With the rage Hermione's in, it isn't likely to be as enjoyable as that."
Ginny slumped against my shoulder as I attempted to drag her to the spare bedroom. We barely even got to the living room before I decided to change my tactic.
"New plan Gin, come on, up you go." I haul her up into my arms and carry her instead of dragging her.
Feather light, I manage to get her to the stairs. I am still in fairly good training from my Quidditch days and that combined with her small stature made me feel as though Ginny weighed barely anything.
However, it wasn't my lack of physical fitness that stopped me at the foot of the stairs. It was because at that moment Ginny decided to stir slightly, just enough to wind her arms around my shoulders and press her face into the crook of my neck.
I stopped cold.
This was all too familiar of the days when we would stay up all night at the Burrow. We would talk for hours, occasionally stopping to kiss or explore each other but always coming back to talk about one thing or another. Inevitably, she would start to yawn and I would insist that she go to bed and that I would still be there in the morning. She, being herself, would refuse vehemently and I would shrug and say, "Suit yourself." Less than an hour later she would be curled up in my arms or by my side in that stage of sleep that borders on dreaming, when you can't tell the different between what you are dreaming and what is real. I would pick her up in my arms and she would settle against me, burrowing as close as she could as though she was trying to get under my skin.
What she didn't know back then is that she already was.
I would carry her up to her room and kiss her on the forehead, hoping so much that she would have happy dreams that would come true for her during the daylight hours.
Standing at the base of the stairs I flashed back to those days, and realized just how much I missed it. The intimacy, the closeness, the connection between us. I hadn't had that in so long, and I realized now how much I craved it.
I shook myself. I was being silly. And anyway, I needed to get Ginny upstairs so she could sleep off the wine. She would have a wicked hangover in the morning but by then Hermione may have calmed down enough towards her to give her a hangover potion.
Maybe. I wouldn't count on it if I were Ginny.
I carry Ginny up the stairs towards the spare room but before we can get there I feel her say against my neck, "No."
I look down at her. Her eyes are partially opened and she shifts her head to look at me out of one.
"No," she mumbles, "I wanna sleep with you."
I realize how bad this situation could end up, especially if I look further into her words, but I really don't care. The (unfortunately inebriated) love of my life is asking me to stay the night. In what universe was I going to reject the opportunity?
I change my course and turn instead towards my bedroom door. I give it a slight nudge with my foot to make it swing open. I walk slowly to my bed and pull back the emerald duvet. I lay Ginny down on the sheets and pull the duvet up to her chin. She smiles up at me and I kiss her on the forehead, proof that old habits die hard.
"Aren't you coming?" she asks me.
I don't even think it over.
"Ya, I'll be there in a sec Gin," I say, and smile down at her.
My promise makes her relax and she closes her eyes as she snuggles deeper into the mattress.
"Okay," she murmurs from somewhere under the covers.
I walk into the adjoining bathroom and brace myself against the sink. I take deep breaths to calm myself down and splash some cold water on my face.
And this is how badly I'm freaking out before I realize that I have always slept in just my shorts.
I don't own pyjamas.
Or a ratty old t-shirt.
I'm so screwed.
"Harry?"
Ginny is calling pathetically from the bedroom and I feel a tug in my chest: I have to go to her.
"One sec Ginny, I'm coming."
I strip off my shirt and pants from dinner this evening and fold them neatly on the counter beside my sink. I meticulously brush my teeth and make sure my stubble isn't too bad. I take in a deep breath for courage and step back into the bedroom.
Ginny is sitting up on my bed. Her dress is on the floor.
She is sitting in her bra and knickers with her legs tucked to the side. She is leaning on one arm, her head propped up on her hand. Her other arm is resting on the smooth flesh of her thigh.
I gulp, painfully aware of the thin cotton of my shorts.
"What took you so long?" Her tone is innocent, just a simple inquiry. It's the voice I remember from all those years ago. Ginny isn't one to put on a seductive voice, or role-play, but just her own voice can have the effect of both on me.
I gulp again, lost for words.
"Just had to brush my teeth," I manage to squeak out, my voice several octaves higher than usual.
"Well, come on then," Ginny says, and does something I have never seen her do before.
She crooks her finger at me, beckoning me forward.
Being the puppet I am around her I obey, slowly walking towards her as if I'm transfixed.
The frame of my bed is quite high so when Ginny kneels in front of me we are almost the same height. I stare at her, in a trance, and she stares straight into my soul. For a good ten minutes, neither of us moves.
Then suddenly Ginny pounces forward. She grabs my face between her hands and what sounds like a growl escapes her lips, just before she is crushing her lips to mine.
This kiss is all teeth and nails and an incredibly nice feeling of pain. It is five years worth of sexual frustration poured into the most intense kiss I have ever experienced.
It seems like Ginny will never come up for oxygen but when she does it is with a noise like a suction cup. She gasps in air, never releasing her hands from my hair, where they moved after the first few minutes of kissing. She arches her neck backwards and I can see the pearly skin of her throat.
I can't help myself. Before my brain is even capable of rational thought I am kissing her neck, chest, shoulders, and any other part of her I can reach. I am not being careful by any means, leaving trails of hickies that Ron would kill me for if he sees them. Ginny is gripping my hair, arching her back now, and moaning softly.
I realize that this is as intimate as I have gotten with anyone since breaking up with her five years ago.
Explains a lot doesn't it?
I run my trail of kisses down the middle of Ginny's sternum, trailing slowly down to her bellybutton. There are purple bruises all over her skin but I am too far gone to even see them.
I softly nuzzle the soft, sensitive skin of her abdomen and then begin to work my way back up. As great as it is a small part of me is curious to see what will happen if I am a tease and force Ginny take the lead.
Boy, am I rewarded for it.
Ginny, obviously disappointed that I started to move back upward, curls into me. She unfists her hands from my hair and plants them on my shoulders, pushing herself up so she is standing. With a grace that shouldn't occur with drunk people she hops down from the bed and stands in front of me, looking seductive and dangerous.
Now I'm the one pushed up against the mattress.
She saunters forward slightly, just enough to have me fully pressed up against the bed, unable to move. The height difference has me looking down into her eyes and I see a ferocity and hunger in them I have never seen before.
Before I can even react her hand is slipping under the band of my shorts.
My eyes widen and Ginny grins. She is doing all manner of things to me and yet still manages to stand up on her tip toes and kiss me with a searing passion that leaves my already breathless state gasping for air. I return the kiss with as much enthusiasm as I can manage under the circumstances, my tongue dancing with hers.
I feel her grin against my lips, a devilish grin that can only mean one thing: she has a plan, and I am going to be dead by the time it is executed.
By the time she has gotten off her knees, my prediction has come true.
I am shaking all over. I am weak in the knees and my legs and arms feel like wet noodles. The only reason I am still standing is because of the bed behind me.
And still she isn't done with me.
Ginny knocks me onto my back on the bed and clambers up too, straddling my hips and waist. She sits on what would be considered my lap and starts to move in the most enticing ways.
I can't help myself. I lunge forward, pulling her down towards me and roll her onto her back. I unsnap her bra and she moans under my desperate touches. I bury my face in her skin as I finally give in to what I have wanted to do since the night I saw her at the restaurant.
