A/N: When I started writing this fic, a part of it was just as an excuse to write a bunch of Harry/Ginny smut. But I also wanted to see if I could use sex as a vehicle to depict a growing relationship. So, yes, while they might think themselves to be friends with benefits, we all know that's really not what's going on here. We might just have to be a little patient for Harry and Ginny to admit as much.

Harry wasn't truly nervous until Ron and Hermione arrived. Because even though he had spent some time with Bill and Arthur in the Order, and despite having a few nights out at the pub with Fred and George, the Weasleys that were at the Burrow initially didn't know Harry well enough to know he was acting strangely. When he found himself regularly shaking his head—either at catching himself staring at Ginny, or merely clearing his mind of the memory of how she tasted, or the timbre of her moans—Harry didn't think the other Weasleys might find it strange. They probably thought he just had a weird head-shaking thing.

And whenever one of them would strike up conversation, and ask about how it was going being Ginny's flatmate, his inability to look them in the eyes when he responded likely struck no one as particularly strange. They simply pitied him for his poor conversation skills, in all likelihood.

"Harry," Ginny whispered after less than ten minutes with her family. "You've got to stop acting so weird." She had wandered over to where Harry sat with her father, in a nook of the sitting room. Perhaps she figured she could steal a few moments under the guise of bringing Harry a drink. Arthur looked none-the-wiser to Ginny's ulterior motives.

"But you smell so good," Harry said honestly, taking in a breath of her. He preferred the scent of her arousal, but the flowers and strawberries he smelled on her hair were a close second.

He saw her blush, and let himself feel triumphant for a moment. "Aren't you an Auror?" she asked hurriedly, glancing at her father to make sure he wasn't starting to get suspicious of their prolonged whispering. "Surely you were trained in concealment and disguise. So, disguise your obvious horniness."

Caught between mortification and amusement, Harry couldn't decide if he should laugh at Ginny's correct read on his behavior or run from the house to bury his head in the garden. He settled on pinching the bridge of his nose, and chuckling out a meager, "Merlin, Ginny."

"If I can do it, so can you," she winked, before straightening up and strolling across the room. After staring at her backside as she walked away, Harry shook his head again. It took those few seconds for Harry to even process her words, but once he did, he let himself smile.

It was nice knowing she was similarly struggling. But he turned back to Arthur and his smile dropped. The man peered over his glasses at Harry, a quirked eyebrow giving Harry the distinct impression he was being weighed. "You and Ginny get along well, then?" he asked Harry.

Harry cleared his throat. "Yes, sir. She's been ama…erm, that is, she's great. Not that you don't know that already. You clearly did a great job raising her. So, it's great."

Harry figured he was in a reading chair, what with the lamp hanging over him. What he didn't understand was why they had the lamp doubling as a furnace. He felt sweat bead on his forehead.

"She is great," the man confirmed, peering over Harry's shoulder, and causing Harry to look back. She sat on the arm of an old couch, her pale blue sundress a pleasant contrast to the faded green of the couch's fabric. She had a leg tucked up underneath her, and Harry was grateful the sundress fell over her knees easily. Instead, his eyes were drawn to one of her hands, which played idly at her bare neck—precisely where he had left a now-covered bite—while she chatted with Bill.

And for the briefest of moments, Harry was back in their apartment, clutching her to him, biting and sucking on her neck while she stretched it out for him.

And then she glanced up at him, a wicked gleam in her eye, like she knew exactly what she was doing.

She knew exactly what she was doing, didn't she?

Harry turned back to Arthur. Ginny was right. He was an Auror. He wouldn't be bested by her feminine wiles. By her conniving seductions. He was stronger than that. Better trained than that.

"Did you know she makes a mean Treacle Tart?" Harry asked Arthur confidently.

Her father seemed a little taken aback by the sudden shift of Harry's tone and topic. "Well, I suppose I didn't know that," he said. "Molly's always made it in our house."

Harry leaned forward. "You know what?" he said, conspiratorially. "I suspect it was Molly that made this one—and Ginny's just taking credit."

Arthur laughed. "You know what, son, I think you're right."

"But jokes aside, she's an ideal flat mate," Harry said, leaning back again, voice sure. "She helps with food, keeps the place clean, hasn't had any crazy parties that the neighbors complain about."

Arthur nodded, and Harry asked him about his work, the latest muggle contraption he'd discovered, and his new granddaughter. His bumbling beginnings all but forgotten, Harry stole a brief glance back at Ginny a few minutes later and caught her eye.

Eyebrow raised in appraisal, she appeared impressed. But the gleam in her eye was not gone, and Harry had the distinct impression her little game was only beginning.

After Arthur concluded a detailed explanation of a "squeegee." Harry excused himself and stood from the reading chair, careful to duck his head under the lamp. It hadn't been as hot as he initially thought it was.

He strolled over to where Ginny sat, and smiled at her, Bill, and Fleur who all sat together while their adorable little girl ran around the couch repeatedly giving high fives to various Weasleys throughout the room.

Bill stood and held out his hand. "Harry, it's good to see you again."

"And you, Bill," Harry agreed, smiling.

Bill introduced his wife and daughter Victoire—who looked to be about two, a couple years younger than Teddy, and stopped only long enough to get a high five from Harry—before Ginny inserted herself in the conversation.

"I was just telling Bill here how much I love this couch," she said, and Harry resisted narrowing his eyes at her. What was she playing at? "I have so many fond memories of gathering in this room, and sitting together as a family. It just feels like home, I guess. I was wondering if I could get one similar for our place. Unless...unless you have fond memories of the current couch?"

Images of yesterday flowed unfiltered into his mind, Ginny beautifully bare on the sofa as he dove between her legs. He swore he could still taste her if he focused.

He stood rigid, though, and fought off the flush of heat from his face. "None that I couldn't replace," he said to her before glancing at the green, Weasley couch. "For me it's all about comfort. And I know you seemed to enjoy our couch over the weekend, Ginny. Are you sure you want to replace it?"

She swallowed, and Harry felt a surge of pride at his victory. She took a deep breath and turned to her brother, who watched the exchange bemusedly. "Harry's right, of course. I've been taking naps on the couch all weekend," she said, lightly brushing away some hair that had fallen near her eye. "I might have grown attached to the way it feels."

Noting that Bill and Fleur weren't watching him, Harry allowed himself to swallow and exhale. It was a good cover, he had to admit. But still, he knew Ginny wasn't talking about how the couch feels, and he shifted slightly to adjust his arousal.

Ron and Hermione's arrival was a good distraction from whatever Ginny was about to say about the couch next. He excused himself from the group, thinking Ron and Hermione might just be life-savers. It was only on his dash across the room that he realized Ron and Hermione were not life-savers. They were about to make this all infinitely more complicated.

"Harry!" Hermione squealed and wrapped him in a hug. "I'm so glad you came! After months of denying Ron's invitations, I wasn't sure you'd ever come."

Over Hermione's shoulder, Ron cringed.

"I just never wanted to be a third wheel," Harry explained lamely while Hermione released him. "Now I've at least got Ginny when you two get lost in each other's eyes."

"Shut it, mate," Ron said with a grin and clapped him on the shoulder. "So Ginny won you over, eh?"

"Your mum actually surprised me with the invitation," Harry said, hoping to steer the conversation away from Ginny. If anyone here could tell he was behaving differently, it was Ron and Hermione. "Next time, I'll be ready for her."

He grinned at Ron and Hermione, and for just a moment, it felt like it had for the past year. It was nice to see Hermione again—the amount they hung out had dropped significantly since Ginny'd moved in. Or...Ron moved out, Harry supposed he could say. Still, the thought hadn't occurred to him until right now that Ginny moving in might have been the bigger deal.

"How is Ginny, by the way?" Ron asked in a hushed tone. Hermione looked on with nervousness.

The weekend had been so absolutely blissful that it took Harry a moment to realize Ron wasn't suggesting he knew about their little arrangement.

The Imperius Curse. Right.

"She's actually doing really, really well," Harry told them earnestly. "Your sister is a really strong woman."

Hermione beamed at him, while Ron looked on with a frown, dubious.

But Harry didn't need to convince him, for Ginny seemed to know they were talking about her, and appeared from behind Harry.

And squeezed his backside.

It took everything for Harry not to yelp and jump. And then it took everything for him not to turn and glare at her. And then it took everything for him not to take her hand and apparate back home so he could release this odd frustration mounting in him with each interaction.

He couldn't resist looking behind him, though, to make sure the other Weasleys hadn't seen her. They were thankfully caught up in their own conversations and engagements. Victoire, by the looks of it, had the Twins wrapped around her little finger. Which was good, because Harry suspected they'd be the most likely to catch shenanigans.

"Talking about me?" Ginny asked innocently.

"Yes," Harry confirmed, much to Ron's ire.

Hermione wrapped her up in a hug. "I'm so glad you're doing okay."

After they pulled back, Ginny looked up at Harry. "Harry took care of me. Didn't you, Harry?"

The words were innocent enough, but there was a fire in her eyes that tore that innocence down.

"Repeatedly," Harry said stiffly. "Any time you let me, that is."

Ginny's smirk dropped, and she looked away from him. "Don't let him fool you," she told the others, and Harry heard a shiver in her voice. "He's not always such a softie."

Harry coughed. He wasn't such a softie right now, that was for sure. He wondered if there was a way to surreptitiously adjust himself in his pants. What she could do to him with some suggestive words and a look was unnerving.

And the forbidden nature of it all. At the Burrow! She certainly was daring.

"I was worried about you," Ron said, still not buying her story—and thankfully not reading into it any more than surface level. "I tried to come visit last night, but the floo was locked."

"I was taking a nap," Ginny said quickly. Too quickly, Harry thought. On the plus side, it looked like they had their excuse for when they locked down the floo and went at each other in the sitting room.

"I locked the floo," Harry supplied. "Didn't want anyone interrupting her sleep." He turned to her. "You haven't been getting as much as you should."

Ginny turned and gave him a half-smile, so Ron and Hermione couldn't see. The shake of her head was nearly imperceptible.

"And whose fault is that?" she asked baldly. Harry widened his eyes at her.

"Hopefully Ron and I can get moving on the case first thing tomorrow," Harry responded—hopefully shifting blame from himself to whoever had cursed her, and removing suspicions that he was sure Hermione would start having if they kept this up.

"Yeah, go easy on us, Ginny," Ron said, clearly taking the bait. "We did everything we could before the bureaucratic nightmare that is the Ministry stalled us."

And mercifully, Molly Weasley stopped all further interactions with a call to dinner.

Harry heard himself exhale. As they all turned to the dining room, Ron clapped him on the shoulder again. "Loosen up, mate," he said. "You're acting like Auror Harry right now."

Then he turned and led them to the dinner that awaited him. Harry froze for a moment, his fear confirmed. Ron could tell he was misbehaving. Harry just prayed he didn't suspect why.

"For what it's worth," Ginny mumbled beside him, just loud enough for only him to hear. "I think Auror Harry is doing a really good job. If you sit by me at dinner, a galleon says it won't last the evening."

And maybe Harry liked the challenge. Maybe he needed a galleon (he didn't). Maybe he was a masochist. But Harry followed Ginny right around to the other side of the table and sat himself down next to her. She lifted an eyebrow at him, and he merely smiled at her.

-0-0-0-

Ginny felt bad. Naturally, the whole evening was hilarious and exhilarating. And Harry had even seemed to be having fun by the end of it. But she watched as he trudged from the front door straight to the sitting room, flicked his wand to ignite the fire, and slumped into the couch. He leaned his head back on the cushion and groaned at the ceiling.

She owed him a galleon.

She smiled, but her heart also thumped painfully in her chest. Had she taken it too far? Before the dinner began, she had wanted nothing more than for Harry to have a pleasant experience with her family. She wanted him to feel comfortable and happy, and maybe even loved.

And then she'd spent all evening making him anxious and fearful. Sure, also turned on and thrilled—if his hurried breathing or her own feelings were anything to go by. But she'd turned a day that should have been about him into a game about them.

She pattered over to him and sat, curling up into him.

"Sorry, Harry," she said, and he threw an arm lazily around her. He didn't look down at her, but she saw his lips turn up slightly.

"Don't be," he shook his head. "Just wasn't prepared to deal with a semi half the night," he chuckled.

She smirked. "Only a semi?" she asked innocently, and let her hand drift down his stomach.

He still didn't look down at her, but she heard his breath catch. She cupped him through his pants, and could feel the blood pumping. He grew against her palm, a unique and thrilling experience for her. An idea came to her at the thought—this was not the only unique thing she'd like to try tonight.

She leaned into his chest and pressed kisses against him, wishing his shirt was gone. She didn't think Harry cared much, though, as she began to rub him and he rolled his hips, pressing against her and giving his erection a little more freedom as he shifted back into the couch.

She lifted his shirt with her free hand and kissed down to his stomach, finally reaching skin for her lips to press against. Harry groaned. She continued to rub him. Then she licked him experimentally, tongue gliding over his stomach. The firelight flickered, and the shadows gave her clear lines to trace his abdominal muscles. His skin twitched and he hissed in response. Ginny squirmed with excitement.

"Ginny," he whispered, sounding uncertain. She leaned back to look up at him questioningly. He had finally lifted his head from the back of the couch, and stared at her with fire in his eyes. "You…what are you doing?"

She quirked an eyebrow. "Well, I was hoping to give you a blowjob," she said bluntly.

Harry swallowed. "You really don't…if this is because you feel bad."

She frowned. "What? No, Harry. You've already gone down on me like five times."

His brow furrowed, and she felt him soften slightly in her hand. He pushed at her shoulder gently so she leaned away from him. He frowned at her. "I'm not…look, you shouldn't feel like you owe me something. That's not why I go down on you."

She shook her head, desperate for him to understand. "That's not what I meant! I just mean, I want to."

He tilted his head, disbelieving. So she pressed on. "Why do you like to eat me out, then?" she asked, impatient.

"Oh," he said, clearly caught off guard. "Well, have you seen you?" he asked, like it answered the question. She rolled her eyes. "No, I just mean…the way you move when you're turned on. The sounds you make. And you taste incredible—no, I'm serious. Something about you, I just want it. And the…way your hands feel in my hair. And when you come…there's this feeling of awe and contentedness all at once—like," his eyes grew distant. "Like, like that feeling when you master a new spell, or finally get that new move on a broom just right."

Ginny nodded, and leaned forward to kiss him. "I want that, Harry. I want to make you come undone." She straddled him, and his hands immediately went to her backside and gave her a pleasant squeeze. "I want to feel your hands in my hair, and that power to make you cry out my name."

He was hard again, harder than before against her bum. He burned her with his gaze. Then he nodded.

She slid downward slowly, careful to drag every inch of her front against his erection on her way to her knees. She lifted his shirt again, and he took it in one hand while pulling her hair loose from her tie with the other. Ginny shifted her weight into the most comfortable position—the rug underneath her was not all that padded—and then her hands found his belt.

After a few moments of lifting hips, tugging, and nervous laughter, Harry's pants were at his calves and his erection was pressed against his bare stomach. Ginny licked her lips and she thought she heard Harry give a slight whimper.

She took him in her hand. This was familiar enough. She'd stroked him before. She ran her left hand over his thigh while she pumped up and down a few times, gradually tightening her grip. As she leaned forward, Harry stopped her one more time. "Are you sure about thi—"

She rolled her eyes and didn't let him finish—that would be for later. Instead, she dipped her head and took him deep inside her mouth.

"Oh. Fuck!" Harry growled, and his hand tightened in her hair. The movement pulled her hair, and Ginny was surprised she liked it, but oddly not nearly as much as Harry's cock in her mouth.

She wondered if it was odd to like it. The texture was foreign to her mouth—somehow soft and hard all at once. It didn't last long, but the taste of him wasn't necessarily pleasant, though not as bad as she feared, either. And yet, thumb and two fingers curled around the base and the head of his cock to inside of her cheek, Ginny liked it.

She liked the plentiful curses coming out of Harry's mouth. She liked the bounce of his leg, which she gripped like a vice. She liked the feel of him inside her and the barely restrained energy flowing off of him. She swirled her tongue around him and just about fell in love with the new sound he was making deep in his throat.

She pulled back, so just the head of his cock still sat in her mouth. She watched his gaze while she experimented with her tongue. It was like he couldn't decide whether to burn a hole in her eyes with his or stare at the ceiling and mutter obscenities. And Ginny couldn't decide which she preferred either.

She took him deep in her mouth and fought off the natural reaction to gag. She repeated it a few times, and that reflex vanished. It was replaced with a sick sense of satisfaction as he throbbed deep inside of her and started to move his hips with her movements.

She tightened her grip around him and added strokes to the experience.

"Ginny, if you...I'm not going to last long if you keep..."

He stopped talking and Ginny wondered if he was about to come. What would he taste like? What would it feel like. She was excited.

But disappointed. He had stopped rolling his hips and certainly hadn't come yet.

She looked up at him. He had his eyes screwed shut and an almost painful expression on his face. Ginny nearly stopped in fear before she realized what he was doing.

She pulled back. "You had better not be thinking about quidditch or something!" she snapped at him.

His eyes shot open. "If I were thinking of quidditch, then I'd be thinking of you," he panted. "And I'd have come already."

"Then come!" she said.

"I..." he hesitated. "In your mouth?"

Of course he'd fought off an orgasm because he was still worried about her. "Yes! I want the full experience here, Harry. How can we learn what we like if we don't try it?"

He stared at her dumbly with his mouth hanging open slightly.

So she took him in her mouth again and applied all of her findings. She stroked him while her tongue swirled, and sucked while she took him deep inside her mouth.

And within moments, she heard a strained, "Gin, I'm gonna come."

And this time he did. Wet, hot liquid filled her mouth and ran down her throat. It was foreign and new, and she swallowed the best she could with Harry still filling her mouth. She coughed a bit, and Harry slipped out of her, a stream of cum hitting her lip and chin on the way out.

And it wasn't great, if she was honest. But...somehow not bad?

"Fuck. I'm so sorry Ginny," Harry mumbled. "That sucked. Don't tell me that didn't suck."

"It was new," Ginny corrected, wiping at her mouth. Her other hand still wrapped around Harry as he softened in her hand. "I definitely want to try again. Maybe we can prep a little differently next time."

"Next time," Harry repeated while shaking his head. "Right. Wait. What? Prep?"

Ginny shrugged as she shifted on her knees. They were sore. "I've heard there're ways to improve the taste. And I'll know how to react better next time. And a cushioning charm, obviously."

He snorted as she got up from her knees, and he shook his head wonderingly at her. "You're kind of amazing."

"No need to sweet talk me now, Harry," she smirked. "You already got your prize."

His eyes darkened, and he wrapped his hands around her waist. "I still want more." He pulled her between his legs.

Ginny could only nod as his hands ran up her legs, under her dress.

Some indeterminable amount of time later, Ginny lay on the couch, with Harry half on top of her. After he'd come inside her a second time—this time, not her mouth—he'd rolled to the side of her, and they merely breathed through their exhaustion. He had his face buried into her collarbone, and their legs lay intertwined, slowly moving against each other. The weight of him on top off her felt so right, like a blanket on a cool evening.

He'd taken his time eating her out this time. They'd slowly shed their clothes, piece by piece. He'd given every inch of her body its due, flipping her onto her back and exploring her bit by bit. At first, Ginny had been a mix of delirious and annoyed by the slow build-up. She knew he was capable of getting her there much faster. Then she realized he was pacing himself so he'd be ready to fuck her again. And he'd done that quite spectacularly as well.

She traced meaningless patterns on his side. His skin was hot, like hers, but rapidly cooling. But they had each other's warmth, and the fire was close enough so Ginny continued to feel perfectly content. He brushed his thumb back and forth on the underside of her breast while he pressed miniscule kisses to her neck. Fortunately, his thumb didn't pass over her nipple. She suspected it would be far too sensitive right now for the added sensation.

They might have lain there for five minutes or an hour before Ginny spoke—she was so at peace, it was possible she drifted in and out of sleep.

"Harry," she whispered. "I don't want to replace this couch."

He chuckled against her, before pressing his lips to the underside of her jaw. She wondered if this kind of intimacy was built into their agreement. She wasn't going to complain, but had to admit it was surprising.

"Good," he whispered back. "Let's keep it."

A/N: Thank you all for reading and leaving reviews! It's just a joy to read your reactions!