A/N: *deep breath* I've never posted anything like this before, and I think I might be more nervous than Harry! For the love of fanfic, please, please review this chapter—don't leave me hanging in anxiety. Find something nice to say about something, even if it's not the sex, okay?

In case you somehow missed it: if you want to skip the sexy times, skip this chapter. Yep, pretty much the whole thing. At least until Ginny wakes up, about two-thirds through the chapter.

Speaking of chapter lengths, this one is long. Really long for me, essentially two thousand words longer than the next-longest chapter (which incidentally was chapter eighteen; I thought this one being eighteen chapters later was a funny coincidence), so no complaints when next week's chap flies by in a blink!

Acknowledgement: I know American hotels won't let you have any source of open flame, and I assume London hoteliers are just as interested in not burning down as we are; I just ignored facts in favor of fantasy. I also admittedly based the room on my experience with American suites rather than European doubles (so sue me). I did, however, take advantage of the lower drinking age in the UK for Harry to be able to order wine.

See end-of-chapter notes for a plot detail.

Harry started to sweat. Ginny wouldn't stop locking and unlocking the damn door.

The little red light turned green and she squealed. "Look, just like the lights for cars!" Her face fell. "Wait, why is it red again?"

"You have to actually open the door, Ginny."

"Oh." She removed the card, carefully reinserted it into the slot again, waited for the light to glow green, opened the door an inch, and slammed it shut.

Harry gritted his teeth.

"This is so cool!"

The next time, Harry threw his weight against the door as soon as she turned the handle.

"Oh, look! This is beautiful."

It was a bathroom. Harry walked past it into the sitting area. Yes, there was the large covered platter, and the table was set for two. He felt the tiniest trickle of relief; the first part of his plan was in place. He heard a roar and Ginny shrieked. She stood in front of the vanity holding the built-in hair dryer, her hair mussed as if she had turned it on directly into her face. Harry took it from her, punched the off button, and replaced it.

"Sorry," she said sheepishly, smoothing her hair. "But look, Harry! There's a door between the sink and the actual bath. Isn't that ingenious? I could take a shower and you could brush your teeth at the same time!"

Yes, because brushing his teeth was the first thing Harry thought of when she mentioned being wet and naked.

"That's great, Gin. Don't you want to see the rest of the suite?"

He held his breath, waiting for her to notice the table, but she spotted the television first and walked straight to it. Seeing that the telly could ruin his plans for the evening, Harry stuffed the remote out of sight between the sofa cushions. Ginny abandoned her search for the power button in favor of inspecting the view out the window, but the collection of buildings and streets did not hold her interest for long and she turned around, looking for a new gadget.

"Where does this go?"

"No, wait!" Harry lunged for the bedroom door, but Ginny beat him to it.

He was right beside her when she opened it and saw her face light up with wonder. Puzzled, as it was a simple room with a bed, two bedside cabinets, and a dresser, he turned and followed her gaze. The room had been transformed. Candles burned on every flat surface, and two glass bowls filled with red roses sat on either side of the turned-down bed. The candles must have been scented; he smelled vanilla as well as the flowers.

"Oh," Ginny said, and Harry knew she knew.

He tried to swallow, but his throat was dry. "I—"

"You did all this?"

Harry tried swallowing again. His heart thundered in his ears, so loud he was certain Ginny could hear it and possibly see it trying to jump out of his chest. "I—" He cleared his throat. "I told the staff it was my girlfriend's birthday, but I didn't know they were going to do this. I just wanted cake and ice cream."

He focused on her shoulder, too afraid to look her in the eye, too nervous to look at the romantic room. Ginny still stood in the doorway, and Harry didn't know if he should close the door and pretend the last thirty seconds never happened, or shove her into the room and slam the door behind them.

"Oh, Harry," Ginny whispered.

And then she was in his arms. The force of her attack pushed them into the room, and his hip hit the corner of the dresser. But the pain didn't even register compared to the feel of her mouth, of her tongue twining with his, and Harry forgot that dinner was waiting, forgot that he was nervous, even forgot that he'd never done this before. Because he had done this, kissing Ginny, before; had spent the entire summer kissing Ginny, and there was a sweet spot on her neck, just under her jawline, that—

She moaned, and Harry moved his hand, cradling her head as she tipped it in invitation. He trailed his lips down her neck, pausing at her pulse point, and then it was too long, he wanted to taste her again, and this kiss was frantic and needy. Ginny wrapped one leg around him and Harry gasped. She was in heels, and the extra height lined their bodies up perfectly. Harry thought she must have felt it too, for her breath caught. Then she made a small movement, rubbing herself against him, and Harry forgot to breathe at all. He cupped her bum in both hands to hold her there and she did it again, humming into his mouth, one hand behind his neck, the entire length of her body pressed against his, and his hands scrambled with her skirt, bunching it around her waist to get underneath it. Ginny hopped on one foot, trying to maintain her balance.

"I could use some help here," she said breathlessly.

Harry thought she was doing brilliantly, but she moved one of his hands to the thigh wrapped round his hips. She shifted as he took some of her weight, rubbing against him again. He let his head drop against hers, barely registering that she was pulling his shirt out of his trousers. He was never going to last, never, not when she felt this good and they weren't even naked yet.

She reached her hands inside his shirt, and her touch felt as good as it always did, better even, for the anticipation that accompanied it. He released her, trying to unbutton his shirt, but Ginny wobbled, and he grabbed her bum again by reflex. She made to stand on her own, and reluctantly, Harry let her.

"You do it," he said, indicating his shirt.

She bit her lip, looked up at him and back down at her hands, and started with the lowest button. If someone had told him yesterday that Ginny unbuttoning his shirt would be one of the highlights of his summer, Harry would have said they were crazy. They had kissed shirtless before, each of them. She had taken his shirt off before too, but he was always in a t-shirt at the Burrow, not a button-down, and there was something different about raising his hands over his head and shrugging off a shirt and standing still and watching Ginny do it one piece of plastic at a time. Something more … deliberate. He could feel the huff of her breath against his skin, the gentle scrape of her nails, and by the time she reached the level of his chest pocket, her hands were shaking so hard she couldn't get the last button through its hole. Frustrated, she slid one edge through and pulled, and his shirt fell open with a ping as the button flew off and hit the wall.

"Oh, Merlin, I'm sorry!"

She half turned as if she were actually considering retrieving the button, so Harry bent to kiss her again. She was amazing, warm and responsive and faintly buttery, and after her hands pushed the shirt off his shoulders, Harry began bunching her skirt up again. Ginny broke the kiss and turned around. She pulled her hair over one shoulder, leaving Harry staring at the zip between her shoulder blades.

They were going to do this. They were really going to do it.

He took one deep breath, let it out slowly, and pulled the zip down to where it ended at the small of her back. When she didn't move, he pushed the sleeves off her shoulders, and the dress fell to the floor. Ginny stepped out of it, kicking off her shoes as she did so and shaking her hair behind her back when she turned to face him.

She wore a simple baby blue cotton bra and knickers that didn't match, and Harry knew instinctively that this was ordinary underwear, not something she had chosen for her first time. She squirmed.

"Don't stare," she said.

"I like staring at you." He still wasn't looking at her face. "You're beautiful."

Preoccupied with the fine auburn hair peeking out the edge of her high-cut knickers, Harry hadn't noticed Ginny take off her bra until he saw something blue drop past his line of sight.

"You do have freckles everywhere," he said, and she laughed, her breasts bouncing slightly with the movement. He cupped one. It was impossibly soft yet firm as it filled his palm, and he stroked his thumb back and forth along its curve. "Okay?"

"Uh-huh," she breathed, gripping his other hand tightly.

This reminded Harry that he had two hands, so he dropped that hand too and then finally, after waiting all summer, after waiting what seemed like his whole life, he could both touch and see Ginny's bare breasts, and she was leaning into him slightly, and it was even better than his birthday. She whispered his name and pulled him down to kiss her.

"Ginny." Harry kissed along her jawline, still fondling both her breasts, and brushed one tip with his thumb as she panted in his ear. "Gin, please, can we— can we—"

"Yes!"

He felt her hands fumbling at his belt and caught both her wrists with one hand. She was so petite, so slender….

"No, let me." And then Harry was the one at the end of Ginny's stare, and he had the absurd thought that maybe, after nearly eighteen years dressing and undressing himself, he wasn't doing it right. And he understood why she had been fidgety, because it was hard to stand still when you had just dropped your trousers and pants in front of someone, and he caught her hand again as she reached to touch him.

"N-next time, okay?" Harry thought he would love her forever for this reaction alone—Ginny actually looked disappointed. But he was sure he would never make it to the bed if she touched him, if her hand wrapped around—

There are seven hundred fouls in Quidditch….

"Harry?"

She tugged on his hand. He followed her automatically, but he hadn't stepped out of his trousers. He tripped, lunged forward, knocked Ginny backwards onto the bed, and fell across her legs.

"I'm sorry! Are you all right?" He sat up and tried desperately to kick off his clothes.

"Wait, Harry, stop." Ginny was laughing; he could hear it in her voice. She got up and knelt at his feet.

He closed his eyes against the image. Blagging, and cobbing, and— and— snitchnip, and—

"There."

Only when he felt the bed dip under her weight and knew she was beside him did he consider it safe to look at her again.

"You're so beautiful." He cupped her cheek in one hand and leaned forward to kiss her. The familiar pressure of holding in the words built in his chest, into the back of his throat, and as he felt her respond to his touch and melt against him, he knew this was the right time. He eased out of the kiss and waited for her to open her eyes.

"I love you."

"Oh, Harry." The hand on the back of his neck tightened, and Ginny leaned her forehead against his. "I love you too."

He laid her back onto the bed, thrilling at the feel of her bare chest against his but kissing her slowly, deeply, methodically before trailing his hand down from her waist to hook underneath the edge of her knickers. She lifted her hips so he could slide them down. He pushed them as far as he could reach without releasing her mouth, and she kicked them the rest of the way off. Harry broke the kiss so he could move over her, but Ginny sat up so fast she cracked her forehead on his chin.

Holding one hand to her head, she frantically waved the other one at the door. "Wand! Spell! Harry!"

He stared at her in disbelief. She wanted to use magic now? What kind of spell was she thinking of at a time like—

"Shit! I forgot!"

"Where's my wand, Harry, I think it's still in my bag, I don't know where I dropped it!" Ginny rubbed her forehead.

Harry dangled half off the bed, digging in his trouser pockets. As soon as he found his wand, he summoned hers. She caught it neatly, took a few deep breaths to steady herself, pointed it at her midsection, and whispered the incantation for the contraception and disease charm.

"I know I didn't have to do the second part, but it's easier to do them both…."

"It's fine. We're okay now?"

Ginny nodded. She reached for him, and he crawled over her, between her legs, and lowered himself so he was resting against her. They both groaned as their bodies made contact with nothing between them for the first time. Harry kissed her, hard but quickly.

"I don't want to hurt you."

"You're not going to hurt me."

"You're sure you're—" He broke off, gasping as Ginny wiggled.

"Yes!"

Harry moved too, but although he met warmth and wetness, he didn't seem to go anywhere. He tried again, but something was wrong; he was still on the outside. Ginny slipped a hand between them.

"You're too far forward."

He felt her guide him and then— bliss. Pure and utter, spine-tingling bliss. The warmth he had sensed had turned to pure heat, and she was tight around him, impossibly tight. But he had met no resistance so far, so Harry pushed forward a little farther until he felt Ginny's hands tighten painfully on his shoulders.

"Are you okay?" No. No, she wasn't. She had said he wouldn't hurt her, but her nails were digging into his skin. Harry began to pull out.

"No!" Her hands flew to his hips to hold him in place. "It won't be any easier the next time if you don't—actually—" She pulled him closer, then winced. "Just give me a minute. And don't move."

As soon as she forbade it, the need to move became overwhelming. He wanted nothing more than to thrust forward or pull back, preferably both (and as fast as possible), but her body remained tensed beneath him.

"Ginny?"

"I'm okay," she said, taking a deep breath. "Just don't—"

"Move. I'm trying."

And he was; he could feel the sweat trickling down his back. Ginny bent one knee so her foot was flat on the mattress and shifted her lower body experimentally. Harry thrust forward, a reflexive, instinctual movement he could not have stopped any more than he could will his heart to stop beating.

"If I can't move, neither can you," he growled.

Ginny took another deep breath, and this time he could feel her body begin to relax. Please oh please oh please!

"Try it again," she said. "But slowly."

He eased into her, but she didn't stop him again. When he was completely inside her, he took one moment to savor the sensation of being surrounded by Ginny, her heat and her wetness and how she was tight and soft at the same time, and then he pulled back and did it again … and again … and then she was moving with him, just a slight thrust forward at the end of his downstroke, but the change in position, and her hands, and … then it was over.

Harry pulled out of her, breathing hard, and lay on his side beside her. "All right?"

"Mm-hmm."

She turned into him and he helped her straighten out the covers, getting up just long enough to crawl underneath them himself before pulling her into his arms again. Having her skin against his everywhere they touched felt incredible.

"I'm sorry it was so fast."

"It was our first time. Nobody's perfect the first time."

He pushed her hair back from her face and kissed her. "I love you," he said again, just for the pleasure of saying it.

"I love you." She smiled.

He liked making her smile too, so he kissed her again. Ginny responded eagerly, which reminded him….

"Er, Ginny?"

"Hmm?"

"You didn't— you didn't get a chance to, er, um—"

"Climax?" she said with another smile.

He nodded.

"It was my first time, Harry," she repeated. "I didn't expect to."

"But, well, would you like to? I mean—" Who the hell wouldn't like to? "I could— I could touch you, if you like."

"Okay." Ginny rolled onto her back and let her knees fall apart.

"Now?" Harry blurted. It was the wrong thing to say, for her legs clamped shut like a trap and she blushed crimson.

"You don't have to. It's okay." She avoided his gaze, gathering the sheet getting ready to get up, and he knew if he let her out of the bed now, the whole evening would be ruined.

He wrapped his arm around her waist, relieved when she stopped moving. "No, I just meant— well, I thought you might want to— to do something else first."

Now she looked at him, and her expression was incredulous. "We just made love, Harry. What else do you want to do?"

"Well, I—" He felt his face heat to match hers. How he hated this uncertainty, the awkwardness, the bloody stammering. "I don't want to hurt you again, or anything, and—"

She kissed him, traced his ears and kissed him, and Harry stopped protesting and started acting. His free hand found her breast seemingly of its own accord, and Ginny made an approving noise in her throat, the same noise she made when he kissed her in just the right spot. He did so now, tracing his mouth along her jaw, down the side of her neck, and across her collarbone as his hand slid past her waist, her hip, and down the back of her thigh. When he broke the kiss, Ginny was dazed and panting.

Merlin, she was beautiful. So perfectly beautiful, and he was still amazed that she had chosen him, the boy from the cupboard.

"Please, Harry?"

He swallowed. He had never done this before, never touched her there, but wasn't that why he had brought her to London? To give them privacy, a chance to explore each other and do the things they'd never done in the crowded Burrow or the openness of the orchard?

This was completely different. He could feel much better with his hand, as if it were more connected to his brain, and she sighed at his touch.

"You're wet," he said in surprise, then cursed himself. "I mean, more than I expected."

"That's— that's a good thing, right?" Breathless, she moved with him, following the gliding motion of his fingers.

"That's a very good thing."

Her eyelids, which had been drifting shut, fluttered open again. "Huh?"

Harry continued exploring, wishing he could see and not just feel her, but they were still under the covers. "You'll have to tell me…."

"Up some."

He slid his fingers up, searching, and felt a small swelling. Ginny pushed against his hand.

"You can—ah—a little harder."

"How much?" She was so soft, everywhere….

"Like this." She reached down and pressed her thumb into the back of his hand.

He imitated her, pressing against what he assumed was her clitoris, and when Ginny removed her hand, Harry moved his, maintaining the pressure but rubbing side to side.

"Oh, gods," she gasped. "Ohhh…."

She rocked forward and back the way she sometimes did when he kissed her and touched her breasts at the same time, and Harry was just starting to think this wasn't so difficult when a tiny frown appeared between her eyebrows.

He stopped immediately. "What? What's the matter? Am I pushing too hard?"

"No, don't—" Her hand was back on his again. Harry repeated the rubbing motion, and Ginny relaxed against the mattress with a groan. "Don't stop."

He wanted to ask what the frown was about, especially when it reappeared, but she was moving with his hand, and she looked like she was enjoying herself, and she had said not to stop….

"Move," she said after several moments.

Well, that was helpful. But when he hesitated, she took his hand in hers, showing him how to touch her. He paid close attention, watching her expression, her breathy moans, the movement of her body to learn what she liked, and when his fingers brushed her opening again, he slipped one inside.

Ginny gasped and arched her back, hard. "Oh! Your fingers are longer than mine."

Harry did a double-take, but she wasn't paying attention, sheet fisted in her hand as she rolled her hips. He thought about what that would feel like if he were inside her instead of his finger and completely lost track of everything.

"More."

"More?" On the heels of his previous thought, he wondered if she were asking to make love again.

Her eyes were open, a rim of brown visible around the blown pupils, and she shifted against his hand. "Please."

He complied, and after a moment of gentle pressure (which didn't seem to hurt her at all, judging from her expression), two fingers slid inside her easily. He felt her clench— actually clench and push his fingers tightly together—and had to remind himself this was Ginny's turn to climax, not his. Cautiously, he began stroking in and out, and she responded immediately, giving a little moan and lifting her hips, but after a little while, her forehead wrinkled again, and he sensed her frustration.

"What is it?"

"Shut up. I'm trying—to—"

She arched her back and clenched around his fingers again, and Harry thought it was entirely possible he would come before she did.

"Trying to what?" Whatever it was, he wanted to help her.

Suddenly, Ginny dropped back onto the mattress and pushed his hand away.

"What?"

She scooted down the bed and buried her face in his neck.

"What is it?"

"I can't do it with you watching me."

Harry could feel the heat of her blush against his neck. "You—what?"

"I can't come with you watching me." She still wouldn't meet his eyes.

"You watched me."

"That was different."

He reckoned it was, especially considering he hadn't been thinking about being watched. In fact, he hadn't really been thinking at all….

"I like watching you. You're beautiful, and sexy, and—well, hot."

Now her ears were red too.

"Do you—" He swallowed. His right hand was still wedged between her thighs. "Do you want to stop?"

She gave an impatient huff. "Not particularly."

He didn't think so; with her face flushed, her hairline darkened with sweat, and her still-fast breathing, she looked very bothered, and no wonder.

"Maybe—maybe we could kiss for a while?" she said, her voice uncharacteristically timid.

Harry would do anything she liked, anything to make this good for her, so he nuzzled her neck, and Ginny finally turned her face towards him. They kissed, long, slow, and deep, the kiss they had perfected when they were doing nothing but kissing, the kiss that said "I love you" long before they spoke the words. He lay on his side and stroked her back with his free hand, wove his fingers into her hair, felt her relax into the familiarity of his kiss. He ignored the position of his hand, ignored the tingling numbness that spread down the arm she laid on, and focused on her. If there was one thing Harry was confident about, it was his ability to kiss Ginny Weasley into insensibility, and it seemed to be happening a lot faster with both of them naked.

"Harry."

"Mmm?" He was kissing her neck, lingering on the sensitive spot under her jaw, and another favorite behind her ear, and.…

Ginny began moving in such a way that he could no longer ignore the hand that was still trapped between her legs. She rolled onto her back, and he resumed stroking her. Her eyes were closed, one hand twisted in the sheet again, the other wrapped round his bicep, and she responded with the most sensual sound and sinuous movement….

Harry watched, fascinated, as the color that filled her face spread down her neck, as her breathy moans became long groans of pleasure, as every part of her began moving restlessly. He glanced down at his hand covered by the sheet, then back to her face. What if….

Ginny cried out and her eyes flew open. Harry increased the pressure with his thumb and she came apart. Unsure of when to stop, he held her close and continued to stroke her gently until she swatted weakly at his hand. He withdrew, wiped his hand on the far side of the sheet, and wrapped her in his arms. She nestled her head against his shoulder, gave a deep sigh, and was asleep in one breath.

()()()()

Ginny woke to the sound of something growling beneath her ear. Opening her eyes, she saw an expanse of bare chest and smiled. She was in Harry's arms … her lover's arms….

"Ginny," Harry whispered.

"I'm awake."

"Hey." He smiled down at her and tucked her hair behind her ear.

She blushed, remembering what happened right before she fell asleep. No wonder she had gone out like a light; she had never been able to bring herself like that.

"How long have I been asleep?" The candles were still burning, the scent of vanilla and roses stronger than ever.

"Maybe twenty minutes."

"Good."

"Why good?"

"I don't want to miss anything about tonight."

He laughed. "I think we might have to sleep sometime."

"We can sleep at the Burrow. Right now I'm hungry." She grinned as Harry's stomach growled again.

But neither one of them made a move to get out of bed.

"It just so happens there is a full meal laid out on the table already."

"There is? How did I miss that?"

"You made a beeline for the telly, remember?"

She laughed. "I must have made you really nervous."

"Pretty much, yeah."

"Harry?"

"What?"

"I'm hungry," she repeated.

"So, get up and we'll eat." His innocent expression needed a lot of work.

"I'm not dressed."

"And that's a problem because…."

"Don't be such a boy."

His upturned mouth stretched into a full-blown smirk. "And here I thought that was what you liked about me." He put his hand behind her head and pulled her into a lazy, open-mouthed kiss. And then his stomach growled for a third time.

"Go," Ginny said, shoving at one shoulder.

"Why me?"

Ginny felt her face heating again. "Harry, I need to clean up. Go pour us drinks or something."

"Oh. Right. Sorry."

They avoided each other's eyes as Ginny rolled away and Harry sat up, but once his back was to her, she turned her head to watch him. Harry wasn't built, exactly, but he had lost the scrawny look he'd worn right after the Battle three months ago. The muscles in his back bunched and flexed as he bent down to pick up his pants and trousers off the floor, and she caught a glimpse of his bare backside as he stood and pulled them up. She waited for him to close the bedroom door behind him before getting up with the sheet wrapped around her and picking up her wand. She shuddered, remembering how they had almost forgotten the contraception charm. Thank goodness it worked for twenty-four hours; she planned to make the most of this trip.

Ginny used her wand to clean the sheets (it was fabulous being able to do magic whenever she wanted), then opened the door and peered around it. Harry stood at the table fiddling with the silverware. Her handbag lay on the bathroom counter, the first room she had investigated upon entering the suite. Still wrapped in the white sheet, Ginny picked up the excess, darted across the hall, swiped her handbag from the sink, and closed the bathroom door behind her. After taking a moment to relieve herself, she wet a flannel in the bath (maybe having the sink outside the bathroom wasn't quite as convenient as she first thought). It wasn't until after she cleaned herself and was standing naked in the bathroom that she realized her mistake: all her clothes were still in the bedroom.

Her eyes fell on her handbag. Hermione's last words to her had been, "If you need anything, look in your bag," and what Ginny really needed right now was a clean pair of knickers and some comfortable clothes.

Hermione did not disappoint. Ginny's hand—wrist, forearm, elbow!—disappeared into the newly undetectable depths of her favorite handbag. She counted no less than six pairs of her nicest knickers, denims, a skirt, several cute tops (some of which belonged to Hermione), three camisoles, two bras (both of them nicer than the one she had been wearing; why hadn't Hermione said something this morning!), one pair of pajamas, her Harpies nightshirt, and—yes, her Quidditch track pants. Ginny dressed in a black cami, a pair of black bikinis, and the track pants and put everything back in her charmed handbag. She gave her hair a quick brushing, and, after debating for entirely too long whether it made her look as if she were trying too hard, applied a light coat of lip gloss.

She stood with her hand on the bathroom doorknob, inexplicably nervous. It was just Harry; it was just dinner. They must have eaten together hundreds of times over the years. But never when you've just made love. Never when you're planning on doing it again as soon as you swallow your last bite. Oh, this was ridiculous.

Ginny opened the door.

()()()()

Dinner passed in laughter as they shared cold roast with soggy vegetables and jacket potatoes. The roast wasn't bad (Ginny loved beef in about any form), but the potatoes remained stone-cold despite Harry's attempts at a warming charm. Her birthday cake was delicious, and whoever had served them had the foresight to put the ice cream on ice, so it was soft but not melted. Both of their wineglasses were empty, and it was becoming increasingly obvious that the meal was over.

"I guess we should get ready for bed," Harry said.

She followed his gaze to the clock and was shocked to see it was past ten-thirty. "What about all this?" She waved her hand at the table between them.

"I'll set it outside the door for the staff to pick up. You can have the bathroom first." He smiled, but not as easily as usual, and Ginny was reassured to know he was nervous too.

She dug in her handbag again and emerged with toothbrush and toothpaste, brushing busily as Harry carried the tray of serving bowls and dishes past her into the hallway. Trying to forget everything she had been taught by her brothers, Ginny spit as gracefully as she could. When she straightened up, Harry was behind her.

"Do you want me to see if Hermione put your toothbrush in my handbag?"

"No need." Harry pulled a small bag from his pocket and reversed the shrinking charm.

Of course. He had known they were spending the night.

"Okay, I'll just—I'm gonna—go in there."

Ginny leaned back against the bedroom wall. She was sooo nervous, and they had already done it! But she hadn't known they were going to have sex the last time, it had just sort of happened, and this anticipation was nerve-wracking. Poor Harry; no wonder he had been distracted at the cinema! Her eyes fell on the bed, stripped to its bottom sheet with the duvet wadded in the floor, and she pulled the top sheet she had wrapped around herself earlier out of her handbag and spread it out, making the bed quickly. After fumbling with the switch, she turned on the bedside lamp and extinguished the candles with her wand. As beautiful and romantic as they were, she didn't want to have to worry about them later. She could hear Harry finishing in the bathroom and summoned her discarded clothes from the floor, directing them into her bag. She set it and her wand on the bedside cabinet, shoved her track pants down before she could think twice, and was still arranging the sheet over herself when Harry walked into the room.

He unbuttoned the first few buttons and pulled his shirt over his head, then dropped his trousers (Ginny giggled when he deliberately stepped out of them) and climbed into the bed. He took off his glasses and set them on his bedside cabinet, and her heart skipped a beat. She loved looking into Harry's eyes without his glasses.

"Now we're matching, eh?"

"What? Oh."

She was still sitting up, and Harry was looking at her black cami and knickers.

"You took your glasses off."

"I can still see colors."

"Well, I didn't know," she said defensively. "Hermione should have told me."

"I asked her not to. Besides, I don't care. I think you look beautiful in anything."

She smiled and lay down beside him. They were close but not touching.

Until Ginny reached out and brushed the scar in the center of his chest. It was unusual, still pink with newness and thicker at the edge, almost like one scar laid over another.

"Tell me about this one."

Harry moved her hand away and went very still. "I can't," he said finally.

She watched his face and considered how to reply. "Can't … or won't?"

"Er—a little of both, actually." He dropped her hand to push her hair over her shoulder. "Please don't be mad," he said quietly. "I don't want to argue with you, not tonight."

She wasn't mad, exactly, but she wasn't going to pretend, either. They had been sharing stories and intimacy all summer, and now despite the full physical intimacy, he was still keeping some stories from her. She couldn't help wondering what he was waiting for.

"Why can't you tell me?"

Harry sighed and rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. "For one of them, you need to know something else first and we decided Hermione would be the best person to tell you. For the other—I don't want to talk about it."

"So, it is two scars then?"

"Yes."

Ginny realized that was the most she was going to get from him tonight, and she knew he would tell her eventually. It had taken Harry a long time to tell her he loved her, and that was something happy and wonderful. It only made sense it would take him even longer to share something sad and difficult. Besides, Harry was right. She didn't want to fight with him tonight, not when there were other fun things to do. She closed the distance between them and laid her head on his shoulder. Harry pulled his arm from underneath her and held her close.

"Do you want to get the light?" he asked.

"Actually, I thought … you said—you said next time, I could…."

Harry's mouth opened and closed soundlessly, and Ginny grinned, feeling much more confident all of a sudden.

"That is, unless you don't want me to…."

"No! I mean, yes! I mean—" He took a deep breath, and she laughed.

"Kiss me."

Harry had this way of kissing her that made Ginny forget everything else, that absorbed her completely, and he did it now, cradling her face in his hands as he drew her tongue into his mouth, then his hands roaming everywhere, her back, her sides, her bum.… She moaned encouragement. They had only recently (well, relatively recently, considering they'd been snogging like mad for three months) discovered she loved kissing with Harry's hands on her bum. He indulged her, massaging lightly, and she sighed into his mouth.

"Are you serious?" he whispered.

It took her several seconds to process the question, but when she did, she nodded. She had wanted to touch Harry, to see him, almost as long as they had been going out. With a swift kick at the sheet, she exposed them down to about knee level and sat up, letting her gaze travel along his shoulders, his chest, his flat abs, and lingering on the line of dark hair that disappeared under the waistband of his pants. Harry shifted restlessly.

"You stared at me," she pointed out.

"But you're beautiful."

Ginny started to laugh, then stopped at the vulnerable expression on Harry's face. He wouldn't quite meet her eyes, and his posture was rigid.

"So are you."

He scoffed.

"I've always thought you were good-looking, Harry. You have to know that."

He reached a hand to his face, rubbing his scar in what Ginny knew was an unconscious gesture. Her eyes narrowed. Those damn Dursleys.

"I stare at you a lot," she said honestly. "I just don't usually let you catch me at it."

"You should."

"You think so?" She would, if it kept Harry from thinking of himself as a freak. She let her hand follow her eyes this time, tracing the muscles of his chest, following the baby soft trail of hair, and finally resting on the bulge in his pants.

He nodded, looking straight at her now, and those green eyes….

"Well then, take them off." She didn't move her hand.

Harry scrambled to obey, and Ginny looked down to realize there was nothing between them. Vastly interested in this new phenomenon, she lay back down only to realize she was in the wrong position.

"What are you doing?" Harry said, propping himself up on his elbows as she crawled over him.

"I was on the wrong side," she said. When he stared blankly at her, she touched him again and said, "I'm right-handed."

"I don't care which hand you use," he said, and fell back on his pillow.

a/n: The two scars: one from the locket after the visit to Godric's Hollow (Hermione says she had difficulty getting it off him and finally had to use a Severing Charm) and one from the Killing Curse in the Forbidden Forest.