The sky above Devon was a rare blue that afternoon early in spring. The rains had quit a few days ago, and the sun had managed to kiss the ground with its warmth. The only clouds in the sky were the puffy, white kind, not the kind that threatened a deluge. A little cottage stood at the bottom of a hill over-looking the meandering Otter River. Its vine-covered walls and thatched roof gave it a romantic appearance, as did the roses in the garden. The back door opened with a bang and a young couple tumbled out, both barefoot. The tall, messy-haired man carried a picnic basket over his arm; the basket was made of all sorts of different wood and twigs and had been a craft project made by his middle child and was held together by a stalwart charm. His wife, slim and pretty with red hair tumbling down her back, twirled a bright blue picnic blanket over her shoulders, giving a rather pompous impression of a Ministry official, then gestured up the hill. They walked up it, hand in hand, chortling at each other, giving the impression of teenagers, rather than pushing thirty. But with their three children visiting with their grandparents at the Burrow — which was just a bit down the river — they were carefree lovers. The wife settled the blanket at the very top of the small hill and the husband brought out bread and cheese and fruit. They spoke of everything and nothing, touching often, clinking their wine glasses together, and it was not until the sun had passed its zenith that they lay back on the blanket, food forgotten, and gazed up at the sky.
But they hadn't stopped talking.
"Well, what do you think that one looks like?"
"A bear with a pitchfork."
"You're right! I can see that."
Ginny rolled over onto her side, tucking her hair behind her ear, and smiled at him. "Even with your eyesight so poor?"
"Even then," said Harry.
Ginny rested her hand on his stomach. It was nicely firm, and she tickled a little circle around his navel. "Bill always said that I was the best at making up stories about the clouds." She and her family used to take a picnic on a little hill just overlooking Otter River and spend a couple of hours telling each other stories about what they saw in the clouds. It was one of her earliest memories.
"I'm not surprised," said Harry, "you're the best writer of the lot of you."
Her smile warmed. It was new for her, pursuing a career at the Daily Prophet, writing about magical games and sports. "You're just saying that," she said.
"Never."
Ginny shifted her body upward, enough to press a kiss against his jaw. The stubble tickled her lips as she brushed against him twice more. Harry was clean-shaven more often than not, but at the end of a bit of a holiday, there was more of a beard than she was used to. A little thrum of excitement fluttered through her. But she set that aside — for now. For now, they were cloud-watching.
"Your turn," she told him.
Harry pressed his forearm against his eyes. "I'm so bad at this," he complained.
"Nonsense," Ginny said briskly.
"The Dursleys never let me have an imagination, you know that."
"The Dursleys, who?" Ginny asked. "Are they more important than your wife and children?"
Harry rolled a little so he faced her. The grass of the hill outside the cottage they kept in the country clung to his shirt. "Never," he said again. "And besides, only my wife is here. If the children were about, I'd make up something about a Hungarian Horntail and a giant hat and they'd be impressed." He took her hand and kissed her wrist. "You, love, are harder to impress."
"Who says you need to impress me?"
"Me," said Harry.
They shared a smile, one that warmed her much as the sun did, setting her bare toes to tingling. There were many ways in which Harry impressed her, regularly.. His strength in doing what he did, his patience with their children, his love for their family, and the way he regularly, and with great enthusiasm, showed her he loved her, specifically. Their history together reached back all the way to when they were just ending childhood, and now it had bloomed into something so much more.
"All right," Ginny said. She took his hand and laced his fingers with hers. "Close your eyes, love."
There was a hint of suspicion in his green eyes, but he obeyed.
There was a spell her father had discovered — or perhaps invented — and it was that which the Weasley family ended their cloud-watching afternoons. From Arthur's wand would come all sorts of cloud shapes, knights and kings, great wizards using fluffy white wands, great winged Abraxan galloping across the sky, to the delight of his young family. Ginny'd learned the charm long ago, but hadn't used it yet. Now, she thought with a bit of a wicked glee, was the perfect time. The children were with Arthur and Molly at the Burrow, she and Harry were picnicking like young lovers, and perhaps it was a moment she could impress him.
"Why are you laughing?"
"Don't you worry, love," she said.
"It was actually more of a cackle. I haven't heard you laugh like that since you pranked George for—"
Ginny clapped a hand over his mouth. "Let's not remind me of that."
His tongue darted out and pressed against her palm.
"That's what you get for putting your hand over my mouth," he said, smug.
"Oh, Harry," she said, sighing sadly. "Has it been so long that you've forgotten how much I like it when you lick me?"
This got him sitting up, indignant. "It has not been that long. I was teasing! It was a joke. And! If you remember correctly, you weren't even sure you were going to like it that first time, I was the one who insisted—"
"—begged, actually," said Ginny, serene as could be. "But I was the one begging for it the next time. Now lay down and close your eyes."
Harry did as she ordered, muttering about how he was going to show her how much she liked to be licked, which brought back that thrum of excitement. It was low in her belly, and it gave her the inspiration for the first series of cloud pictures to paint for him. She was not as deft as Arthur, but wisps of white drifted from the tip of her wand at a steady pace. When the first picture began to form, she nudged Harry.
"I think… I see something," she said. Laughter bubbled up but she quelled it. "Harry, just look, would you."
Rolling back over on her side, she watched his face. At first he brought his hand up to shade his face, then squinted. Then sputtered. "Ginny! That's—"
"Yes, it is."
The cloudy shape of a man was going down on that of a woman, face buried between spread thighs. They were vague, but it was clear enough to know what they were doing. Harry's lips were parted, and a flush climbed up his cheeks. Still, she had to tease him.
"Did the Dursleys leave you with enough imagination to find a picture in those clouds?" she asked, innocent. They were blowing away toward the west over the river, but instead of falling apart, they came back together, this time with the cloud woman straddling the man's face.
"Yeah," he said thickly, "they did."
Ginny leaned over to the remnants of their picnic, plucked a juicy purple grape and offered it to Harry. He took it, eyes not leaving the clouds and the shapes they were making for him. Ginny watched him, instead. He was tall and his shoulders had filled out more, but his face was the same she'd first seen so long ago: thin, scarred, and expression watchful. Beloved. There was a dandelion tangled in his messy hair. Ginny plucked it and tossed it aside. She didn't need wishes; she had everything she wanted. The throb in her belly increased when she brushed her hand down his side, then worked into the waistband of his trousers.
"Ginny—"
"Let me?" she asked, licking her lips, letting him know what she wanted to do.
"Let you?" he asked, incredulous. There was a familiar glint in his green eyes. "I'd beg you."
Ginny opened his trousers. "No need," she said, cheerful. "Not today." It was something she enjoyed doing, but Harry seemed to like to beg for it, and she couldn't deny him his pleasure. They both pushed his trousers and pants down all the way off his legs, and Ginny settled between his thighs.
"The clouds," Harry said, "they're doing much what — what we are now."
His penis was stirring in front of her. Ginny eyed it, then gave a long, slow lick. It stirred further, swelling and pushing upward. The head of it needed attention, and she gave it, suckling, licking, swirling her tongue around it, all the while using her thumb to caress his balls. Harry was fully hard when she pressed her tongue against his small slit, tasting salt and something else, something uniquely her husband. A little noise of pleasure came from her, a sweet counter to the sounds of encouragement he was making.
"Ginny, that feels so good," he told her. His fingers brushed through her hair, then twined in the strands. Her scalp prickled as he did.
"What are the clouds doing?" Ginny asked with her mouth full.
"From behind," said Harry, "but not doggy… the way we both really like… God, Ginny."
Ginny suckled on him, then gripped his shaft. The sun was warm on her back, but not near as heated as Harry's body. It was flushed with desire, head of it thick and red from her ministrations. Still more fluid had leaked out, and Ginny tasted it again, rewarded with a moan from her husband. After that, it was quiet for a long, swollen moment. Only the wind rippling the grass on the hill and the sound of the river disrupted the quiet. Did Ginny want to continue this — she knew he would come quite quickly — or did she want to participate? His arousal and excitement were spurring her own; she was growing wet between her thighs. It would not take much effort on either his part or her own to get her ready.
She looked up at him, the head of his penis popping out of her mouth, and tangled her eyes with his. They were hot and demanding and desperate, and she knew it would be cruel to make him wait.
"Ginny…"
Ginny closed her mouth over him, making her decision, and bobbed her head up and down over him. The world receded so it was only her and Harry, no other intrusions, just the slick sound of movement and his groans of pleasure. His fingers tightened in her hair, helping her move at exactly the right pace, and his erection swelled even bigger.
At the end of that timeless moment, his essence rushed into her mouth, thick and salty. More pulsed in her as she swallowed. Finally, she let him go, and leaned back, wiping her mouth.
"Now that," she said, "was a cloud burst."
Harry groaned.
"Sorry," she agreed. "That was bad."
"No, it was wonderful," Harry said. "You know I can't think straightaway after a blow job."
"I meant the joke," said Ginny.
"What joke?"
His chest was still heaving and his eyes were wide and unfocused. Ginny took pity on him, and just shook her head. She twitched her skirt to the side and clambered about to straddle his waist, careful not to brush against his penis, which needed its rest… for the moment. A wry little smile curved her lips. It had been a bit of a sacrifice, having him come in her mouth. There was nothing more she liked more than the feel of him moving inside her, filling her, their bodies locked together. Her belly throbbed are the thought, but the look of deep satisfaction on his face was enough for her.
Ginny let her body guide her movements, and her hand drifted down her belly and to her center, rubbing gently through the fabric of her skirt. She kept her gaze on Harry, watched his eyes slit as he followed the path of her hand. He had always liked watching her do this, so it surprised her when he peered up at the sky.
"It's warmed up a bit," he said, brow furrowing. "But it's cold enough I know it's still spring. And yet… why does it feel like the very last day of July?"
A laugh bubbled out of her. "Feeling good, are we?"
"You know I am," he said, catching her hand in his and now guiding how she stroked herself: a little harder and with a little more purpose. "First a blow job, then watching you pleasure yourself? I am a lucky man. Are you thinking of me?"
"Always," she said. But part of her did not want to do all the work today, and she nearly slumped with relief when his hands grasped her hips and he rolled her over onto the blue blanket. At some point, a daffodil had stuck to his shirt, and he pulled it off and threw it to the side. Ginny gazed up at him, pulling up her skirt, baring herself to him. His eyes were fastened between her legs — but, oddly, he was tugging up his pants and fastening his trousers.
"I plan to eat you out so thoroughly I'd burn my arse if I left it uncovered," Harry said, by way of explanation.
Ginny laughed until his tongue found her folds, and then choked on a moan. He really was quite the expert; the tricks he could do with his tongue made up for not feeling his erection gliding inside her. It was not long before her thighs were shaking and her hands were clenched in his hair. He was toying with her, flicking his tongue back and forth on her nub, stirring it up, and then pulling away. Ginny groaned, arching her back, and pushing herself closer to his mouth. One hand fisted in his hair, keeping him close to her, and the other held to a handful of blanket and grass.
"You taste so fucking good," he said.
His strong hands pinned her hips to the blanket, and he worked her clit, nibbling at it, suckling it, giving it his undivided attention until Ginny was writhing, mindless, under his clever mouth.
"Harry, oh, God, Harry," she chanted. Her body was tight and swollen, and her clit felt so good it was almost painful. "Fuck I'm almost there." She wanted him, needed him, inside her. At just that moment, two of his fingers pushed in, and made a little come-hither gesture that touched exactly the right spot—
And she came. Her orgasm rushed over her, making her toes spasm and her nipples tighten even further into hard, sensitive points rubbing against the fabric of her dress. Her thighs clenched around his head, and his tongue was a steady pressure against her throbbing clit. Stars whirled above her eyes. Her charm on the clouds had faded, but she could still see the faint outline of a woman, back arched with pleasure. Ginny relaxed her legs, breathing heavily, wanting nothing more than to—
"Mummy?" said a small voice. "Daddy? What are you doing?"
Ginny swallowed a groan, and clapped both hands to her face as Harry leapt back and yanked her skirt down over her thighs.. Her thoughts were still whirling and her body still humming, but Al's voice was a slap of cold river water all over her body.
"Erm… Al," said Harry. "Are you… you're home?"
"Yes," Al said. "You used my basket without me."
"Erm…"
"But what were you doing?"
Harry was sounding close to panic now. "I was… your mother and I…"
"You had a picnic without me," Al said, wailing. "And then you were—"
But Ginny had no desire to know what her five year old had seen and what he thought they were doing. "Daddy was helping me," she said, sitting up. "Remember when Rosie got a tick and Aunt Hermione had to get it out? Mummy… needed that sort of help." The back of her neck prickled. She could feel Harry's gaze on her; damn him, she couldn't laugh right now at what might be the worst lie she ever told.
"It looked painful," said Al.
"Never mind what it looked like," Harry said sternly. "What matters is that Mummy is better now."
Al looked from one to the other. Ginny worked to keep any expression off her face.
"Mummy is much better. Daddy always helps her."
"I thought something was weird," said Al. "James and Lily didn't believe me, but when I pointed out the funny clouds to Uncle Ron, he agreed you two might be in danger and he took me home. Mummy… are you sure it was just a tick?"
"Yes," said Ginny, vowing to kill Ron at first opportunity. "Yes."
It was a more subdued pair that followed their young son down the hill, but they still managed to be affectionate, stealing looks and brushing hands. Once, at the very middle of trail, the wife was whirled around and kissed thoroughly by her husband, who had both hands free now the son was carrying the picnic basket. Promises were made to continue their frolic that evening, when the three children were in bed. "I'm still hungry," said the husband, whispering it in his wife's ear, while their son skipped ahead.
"Good. That's the only thing keeping Ron alive right now."
Author's Note: JaneG is such a talented artist, and it was my pleasure to write a fic for her for the Ginuary gift exchange! While that event is almost over, we have two more planned: A BINGO in July (more details forthcoming) and a Big Bang due at the end of October - please join the Ginny Lovers discord server for more information on either one of those.