28 December 1998

"You really used to fantasize about me?"

His eyes were wide, and his cheeks were flushed. It was a cold winter's night, and they had burrowed together under the covers, for both warmth and intimacy. They'd spent the last hour or so trading secrets and whispering to each other. No one else was in Harry's snug little cottage - Ron had spent the last three days over at Hermione's.

Ginny grinned a little at his surprise. The fact that he'd starred in her first sexual fantasies had intrigued him since she'd first let it slip over ten minutes ago. "Of course I did," she told him for the third time, stroking his side. He was almost naked, except for his boxers, and Ginny had a strong feeling that he would be all the way naked before too long.

"Not just... you know, thinking about me," he said in a husky voice. "But think about me while you...?"

"Uh huh," she said. Was it really such a surprise to him? They'd been sleeping together for a few months already (even if school made it almost impossible to be with him as much as she wanted to), and he had to know how attracted she was to him. "Haven't you... you know, while thinking of me?" she asked, feeling suddenly shy.

"All the time," he answered easily. A smug little smile teased his lips, making her feel less nervous. "But that's me, not you. What-? When-?"

Ginny shrugged, suddenly wishing she hadn't accidentally brought it up. Despite the fact that she was naked in his arms, and he was almost naked, and she could still taste him in her mouth, this conversation suddenly seemed really intimate. And sort of embarrassing. She'd started fantasizing about him from the very beginning, when he certainly hadn't returned her feelings, and had probably been happily wanking thinking about Cho bloody Chang.

Harry did not appear to recognize any change in her mood. His hands moved with firm strokes on her thighs, moving higher. She pulled away.

Undeterred, he followed her. There was a happy gleam in his eyes that made her relax a little, and when he resumed his touching, she opened her legs. Just a little, though. His fingertips skimmed against her curls. "Do I live up to it?" he asked seriously. Her eyes flew to his; there was a hint of vulnerability and insecurity in his voice, that echoed what she was feeling.

"What?" she said blankly.

"I dunno," he shrugged a shoulder, fingers brushing against her sensitive clitoris. His gaze had dropped to the bedclothes, and his brow had furrowed. "I just... was I better in your head?"

"Am I better in your head?" she countered, knowing the answer, but wanting to point out what a stupid question he was asking. His thumb pressed down hard, just as he pushed two fingers up inside her. Ginny briefly considered letting him continue on, obviously thinking he had something to prove, but decided that would be mean. "The reality is... so much better."

He smiled, satisfied. "Good."

"Mm hmm," said Ginny, as he pressed a kiss against her shoulder. Moments passed, and she grew more and more aroused, body relaxing and feeling heavier. He pressed her into the mattress, still using his fingers, and watching her face intently.

"How old were you?" he asked.

"Fourteen," she answered automatically, squeezing his hand with her thighs. There was no room for embarrassment, only arousal. "I saw your chest - remember that night we bumped into each other in the kitchen? At Grimmauld Place?"

He scrunched his face up. "You were eating a sandwich," he said. "It was... very late at night, right?"

"Yeah," she said, surprised and pleased that he'd remembered. "And I thought about that night for... for a very long time. It was one of my favorites."

He pulled the bedclothes back, and stared down at himself dubiously. His chest wasn't broad, but it was perfect. Ginny leaned forward and kissed him there, and then flicked her tongue over his nipples while he made a satisfied sound. His fingers moved with renewed vigor.

"So... what happened in this fantasy?" he asked.

Ginny opened her eyes. He was driving her swiftly to the stage of barely being able to breathe, and had pressed himself against her. At some point, he'd pulled down his boxers; he was firm and hard against her leg. He throbbed in time with her heartbeat. All right, she decided.

"Well..." she began.

Even eating a sandwich could be very sensual for Ginny, who had just barely taken that final step toward full sexual awareness. The lighting in the drafty basement kitchen at Grimmauld place was low and dim. And when Harry stepped out of the shadows, bare chested and barely fifteen, desire kindled in her belly. Instead of remaining oblivious of what that blush creeping over her face meant, his green eyes narrowed slightly.

Her tongue flicked out, moistening her lips.

That was all it took. Harry was fifteen, and his pajama bottoms couldn't hide the sudden bulge. All thoughts of how she was a little scared and worried about her family, marched right out of her head. Instead, her eyes remained fixed on the erection that tented his trousers out in front of him. The fabric shifted and twitched as she watched. Heat pooled between her legs.

Mumbling, from both of them.

But instead of retreating, they came awkwardly together, noses bumping, teeth clicking together. Harry - he'd grown taller - lifted her by the waist and set her on the table. His eyes were unfocused, but burning. His hands wandered over her body, exploring, squeezing, and her breath came out in pants. He groaned when he reached under the waistband of her pajama bottoms and then inside her knickers.

At first she thought he sat down because he was tired. But then he pressed his nose right up against her. She squirmed, a little shocked, as he breathed in deeply. Part of her wanted to move away... but then his hands pulled and tugged, exposing her inch by inch, and she could see the rhythmic motion of his left arm, and had a good idea what he was doing.

And she didn't want to stop.

Still. It the feel of his tongue darting against moist flesh made her jerk and moan. His licks were tentative at first. Hesitant. Her clitoris throbbed as he flicked against it. More. Her inner thighs quivered as he got more confident. She rolled her head to the side, watching his arm move as he stroked himself, and widened her legs when she felt one of his fingers probe into her.

Her pajama bottoms drifted all the way off, fluttering to the floor and landing with a soft sound, like a sigh. Her knickers stayed, though, keeping her ankles together. She used them to pull him closer. Suckling, licking, moaning sounds filled her ears. Another finger worked its way up inside her, joining the movement of the first, delicious friction that made her eyes roll up into her head.

He groaned loudly against her flesh, and his movements paused. For a few moments, he rested his head against her thigh, and peeked up at her. She could see the glimmer of his eyes, and the wetness around his mouth. Her hips bucked up of their own accord, wanting to feel his mouth suckling on her clitoris again, wanted to feel his fingers deep up inside her.

She writhed.

He brought his left arm up and used it to hold her lower body down. The kitchen was just well-lit enough for Ginny to see the white fluid on his hand. But then he licked her, and everything receded. The table against her back was no longer hard and uncomfortable. Her eyes were closed, and all she could hear were the sounds of Harry loving her - finally - and the beating of her own heart.

Incoherent sounds of pleasure escaped from her lips. And with each sigh and moan, he moved faster, almost frantically, using his tongue and fingers to drive her higher. His hair was soft as she twisted it up in her fingers, anchoring his head between her thighs.

She screamed when she finally shattered. He didn't even try to shush her; thoughts of her family coming down and walking in on them had fled. His fingertips drew circles on her stomach, sliding up and stroking the undersides of her breasts, and even grazing against her nipples. Ginny closed her eyes, but could still see him, eyes closed in concentration, bobbing up and down, licking her as though he was starving, and she was the best food he'd ever tasted.

Little tremors - aftershocks - made her inner walls contract.

"I guess," he said shakily. Ginny cracked her eyes open. His lips, his mouth, his chin, even the tip of his nose... they glistened, wet. "I guess I don't need those leftovers..."

Ginny slowly relaxed her fierce grip on the sheets. The bedclothes had fallen to the floor long ago, tossed by Harry, who had been more than a little eager to help her live out her fantasy. Tremors of pleasure still went through her body as he moved up her. His hair was wild and in even more disarray than usual - she tended to just about rip it out whenever he went down on her.

"You were wrong about one thing," he said. His lips, chin, and even the tip of his nose was wet, just like she'd imagined. But his eyes were dark and serious, and she spread her legs. He was hard and probing at her entrance.

"What was that?" she asked breathlessly.

He hooked one of her legs under his arm and plunged inside of her, groaning. She leaned up and licked his mouth, tasting herself. His hips moved erratically, and his breath escaped his mouth in harsh pants. Sweat beaded on his brow, and his mouth hung open. His body was shuddering in her tight grip by the time he answered. "I wouldn't - have - finished in my hand - would've done this."

Harry finished with a shout, and pulsing heat filled her. He buried his head in her neck, panting, and pressing kisses on her sensitive skin.

"That's why the reality is so much better," said Ginny. "But next time you have to tell me some of yours."

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I'm not putting the dumb one-shots back up.