Warning: A bit citrus-y, but something lemon-ish will be coming. Bumped rating to M.

Harry came home shortly after lunch, on a midday break from practice. Megan intercepted him at the staircase. "I just put him down for his nap. I'm sorry, I didn't realise you'd be coming home this early."

"I'll need to go back shortly, but I thought I'd stop in. Since there's a two-week break between the semifinals and the championship, we'll be doing double-length practices this week, and shorter practices next week. Will that be okay with you?"

"Sure, it's no problem." Teddy could join her on her trip to the children's ward during the weekend. "Do you have time for lunch?"

"Practicing on a full stomach usually isn't a great idea, and I had a snack before I left." Despite his supposed hurry, Harry leaned against the wall with one shoulder, reaching out and touching a strand of her hair. "You did something different. It looks nice."

"Oh this? It's nothing much, I just let it air-dry today," 'And then spent twenty minutes using a styling charm to curl the tips'

Harry gave an absentminded "hm" in reply, still twirling the strand around his fingers. Megan automatically took a step closer, and his hand enmeshed itself more thoroughly within her hair. His fingertips made their way to the back of her neck, gentle pressure easing her forward even further as he pushed off the wall to stand up straight.

She braced herself with her palms on his chest, his other hand sliding along her side to rest on her lower back. His hand was loose, but his fingers clenched, firmly pulling her to him.

Clutching her.

His head dipped, lips brushing against her. Offering only a taste, a tease.

"You feel it, too, don't you?"

Megan didn't want to talk. She stood on her toes, closing the minuscule distance between them and capturing his lips with her own. 'Finally!' she thought, luxuriating in the feel and taste of him after waiting for so long.

Harry's eagerness matched her own, using his hold on the back of her neck to deepen the kiss, his tongue insistently exploring her mouth. Megan was more than willing to greet it with her own.

When she'd imagined kissing Harry, there was always the expectation there'd be no chance of it being mundane, or routine; no, not with the sort of electricity building between the two of them for the last month. Her expectations were high, but nowhere near high enough apparently.

He was overwhelming. The stroke of his tongue against hers, the sting of his teeth catching her lip, the desperation with which he held her… She felt like every cell in her body was humming in response to his embrace. When her calf started to climb his leg, allowing Megan to grind herself against his thigh, he gasped and broke off their kiss.

How long had they been standing there? 'Not nearly long enough,' came the immediate thought in response.

"You have no idea how badly I've been wanting to do that," he murmured, before gently sucking on her earlobe.

"Yes," she sighed into his shoulder. "Me too."

He looked deeply into her eyes. "I have to go," he said, but made no move to do so. They stood so close together his nose brushed against her face. "Can you stay? After Teddy goes to bed?"

"Yes," she said again, tightening her hold on his shirt to drag him into another kiss before letting him go.

The anticipation nearly drove her insane.

The rest of the day, Megan was a nervous wreck. It was one thing for them to- to snog in the hallway like a couple of teenagers, and quite another to know that with every tick of the clock, each second that passed brought her closer to when he would come home. When they'd put Teddy to bed.

When Harry would take her to bed.

It didn't help that, unlike (or maybe because of?) the day before, Teddy was a complete angel, requiring next to no effort the rest of the afternoon. Just when she needed the distraction the most! She turned her wrist to check her watch.

All of this worry was probably for nothing, she told herself while she prepared dinner, and again while she cleaned up afterwards. She hadn't been nervous when they kissed, after all. Everything would be fine.

Except… that wasn't really the same, now was it? Megan had kissed people before, but she'd never done what they'd no doubt do this evening. What if it hurt? What if she didn't enjoy it? Or worse, what if she did and he didn't? That thought was too much to bear, but she couldn't stop herself from dwelling on the possibility while she tucked the covers up to Teddy's chin and gave him a kiss goodnight.

Madam Pomfrey's sterile, impersonal lecture on the mechanics of sex seemed woefully inadequate, sitting here with - Megan checked her watch again - probably an hour or so until she was going to- to-

She heard the rush of the fire signalling his arrival and physically flinched with the effort of not jumping from her seat. "Hi!"

Harry cocked his head at her bright, effusive greeting, and a slow, seductive smile blossomed on his face. Merlin, it was unfair that he was so effortlessly sexy! "Hello."

Megan rose to her feet and embraced him, certain he'd be able to feel her heart pounding a frantic drumbeat in her chest. When she spoke, she was proud of the way her voice sounded completely normal. "Would you like some dinner?"

"I'm not very hungry," he said, though the heat in his gaze belied that statement.

Oh gods. There was no putting it off now. With a deep breath, Megan latched onto his hand, gently tugging him in the direction of the staircase.

Only, he pulled back against her. "Um, where are we going? Is Teddy alright?"

She looked back at him over her shoulder. "Of course. But there's more room on a bed, isn't there?"

It was the first time he'd looked hesitant, a flush breaking out over his face. "I sort of thought we'd start with a glass of wine."

Of course! Alcohol would settle her nerves, soothe her anxieties. "I'd love that, actually."

Though he was more than capable of fetching a bottle and glasses on his own, Megan aimlessly trailed after him to the kitchen and then the parlour. He opened the bottle and settled onto 'their' sofa. "How was it, here today?"

'Exhausting. Nerve-wracking.' "It was one of his better days, without a doubt." He poured her a glass and passed it over, but before he could even set the bottle down she'd thrown back her drink and finished it.

"Top me off?"

She took the second slower, but still downed hers before his first glass was empty. "Is, uh, everything alright?"

"I'm a little nervous." In vino veritas, after all.

He chuckled, taking her empty glass from her and setting his own aside. Twisting on the sofa, he put his back against the arm and gestured for her to come near. She scooted so her back was against his chest, seated between his legs, while his hands came to rest just above her knees. "There's nothing to be nervous about."

'Says the man who's done this before, who has expectations I'm intended to meet!' she thought to herself. "I know, but we've never- well, you know." Where was her courage? "Had sex."

Maybe it was the effects of the wine suddenly hitting her, but it seemed like Harry had been quiet for a long time. She turned her head to look back at him, wanting to see his face, but he just moved his arms to wrap around her midsection, holding her tighter.

"What happened with St. Mungo's?"

"Er, what?"

"Your application. You must have heard back by now."

She was thrown by the sudden change, and attempted a course correction. "What are you doing?"

His laughter reverberated through his chest, making it so she felt it more than heard it. "Talking. Is that so terrible?"

"I thought we were going to…"

"Megan," he said, pausing to turn her head and plant a small kiss to her temple, "I've spent the whole day thinking about you. Surely we can satisfy my curiosity before we satisfy other needs, hm?"

For the first time since he'd left her that afternoon, a trickle of desire flowed through her. Yes. Yes, this was good. "They accepted me into the healer program, but because I was a late applicant there was no gold left for my stipend."

"So they hired you, but couldn't afford your salary?"

"It's a training program, the stipend is just to keep you afloat until you get certified. But it all worked out. I can start next fall, and I'm here until then."

"Being a healer must be something you really want."

His embrace - or was it the wine? - was having an effect on her, and Megan shifted, inching backwards to press against him more firmly. "Why do you say that?"

"I mean, I don't know anyone else who goes and volunteers at the hospital like you do."

'Volunteers at the children's ward' she mentally corrected. It was true, though; she did feel a certain passion for healing, for tending to the ill and infirm.

Just not as much passion as she felt about the idea of caring for a family of her own.

"Madam Pomfrey was a big inspiration. I used to help her in the Hospital Wing, and I grew to enjoy the work."

"Really?" He sounded curious. "I don't suppose you were ever there when I was? She used to joke, you know, that-"

"There should be a plaque with your name over one of the beds, I know."

He gathered some of her hair in his hand, moving it away so he could place a series of gentle kisses down her neck, eventually resting his chin on her shoulder. "So? Were there any moments I should know of, you faithfully seated at my bedside, holding my hand, full of worry and concern?"

Megan laughed. "Sixth Year, when you got brained during a quidditch match, I think I gave you a potion. That's the only time, sorry to disappoint you."

His other hand, the one still around her waist, began toying with the hem of her jumper. "So if St. Mungo's had the gold, you would be there right now?"

"That's right," she mumbled, letting her head go limp against his shoulder as his hand slipped beneath her top.

"Would you still be able to- I mean, if things there had worked out, does that mean you wouldn't be able to help with Teddy?"

"It's a demanding program. They give you a stipend because it's practically impossible for any healing apprentice to have another job." Megan didn't much like the direction this conversation was taking, especially not when there was the delicious sensation of his fingers tracing light circles over her stomach.

"I see."

The warmth of his hand, the wine in her belly, and the feel of his body so close to hers had done an effective job at combating her nervousness. Taking hold of the hand in her jumper, she slowly pulled it upward. His breath hitched in his chest as cupped her breast through her brassiere. "Can we focus on something else?"

"Like what?" His voice was an octave lower, breath tickling her ear.

"This. Us."

Harry withdrew his hand from her breast, turning her in his arms to face him. She needed no further invitation to eagerly meet his kiss, lying back as his weight pressed against her. He was heavy, so much larger and more muscular than her, and she awkwardly shifted while they kissed. The solution didn't take very long to discover - she spread her legs, Harry sliding between them to fully rest against her.

Simultaneous groans were released into each other's mouths. Their kiss was broken, momentarily, for him to lift her jumper off of her, and again for her to yank his shirt off and then their mouths fused together once more. His tongue was in her mouth and Megan swore she felt his breath within her lungs.

Harry sat up, pulling her along with him as though she were light as a feather. Her nipples scraped against his bare chest as their frenzied kiss continued. When had he taken her bra off? That question was destined to go unanswered, though, as her mind emptied of all thoughts other than the single question he asked against her collarbone.

"I think we're ready for that bed now, don't you?"

It was so fast! Too fast, Megan thought. She swallowed, but gave a jerky nod despite the surge of insecurity that coursed through her. Pulling herself off of him, she crossed her arms to hide her breasts from his heated gaze, sucked in her stomach as subtly as possible.

"Don't," he whispered, standing and gently but insistently pulling her arms away.

"I know they're not like-" 'Ginny's' her mind treacherously supplied. Megan had seen his ex-girlfriend nude more times than she could count, and she was certain that Harry must be comparing the two of them.

How could he not? It was hard to imagine they could be more of a contrast - Ginny was firm, toned, muscular where Megan was soft and curved. Her breasts were perky, standing without any need of support, while Megan's were large rounded teardrops. She wished it weren't quite so well-lit in here.

"Are you sure this is okay?"

"I'm fine." 'And scared'

"You're trembling," he noted, trailing his fingertips down her arm, lighting her nerves on fire.

Megan couldn't stop now. Couldn't. Not after winding him up to such a degree. He'd be furious! And she did want this, didn't she? Everyone felt wary before their first time. Probably. "Let's go upstairs."

Only when she took his hand to lead him to bed on unsteady legs, her foot caught the leg of the coffee table. Both Megan and the wine glasses fell to the floor, the sound of shattering glass followed by the slow roll of the wine bottle across the hardwood.

'Real sexy. Nice work!' she thought, hurriedly making apologies.

"It's okay, you don't have to apologise. Nothing to be sorry for, see?" Harry waved a hand, and the broken glass pieced back together, the glowing light of his magic sealing the fissures and leaving them pristine. "Are you okay?"

She wasn't. Megan felt embarrassed, foolish; stupid. But the flush of shame at least served the purpose of overriding her anxiety. "Let's go upstairs," she said again.

Harry wore an indefinable look. "That's probably not a good idea. I think you may have had too much to drink," he said, kissing her softly.

Her oafishness ruined the mood, she was sure of it. Shouldn't she be relieved?

Yes, she should be, and yet, she wasn't. Instead, it felt like a promise unfulfilled; her hesitation and worry, rather than protecting her, produced nothing but a pool of regret. She couldn't imagine what he was thinking right now, but was positive it couldn't be anything good. She pulled on her jumper, grabbing her bag and stuffing her brassiere inside. "Then I- uh, I'm just going to go home."

She didn't even manage a step towards the closet where her coat hung before his grip forced her to a halt. "There's no way I'm letting you walk home from some bar by yourself. It's got to be ten o'clock at night!"

Turning her wrist, Megan checked her watch. "It's not even nine-thirty. And you can't leave Teddy here by himself. I'll be fine." He released her, and she gathered her things, returning to the parlour with her coat and scarf. "I guess I'll, uh, see you tomorrow."

He gave her an awkward, one-handed hug, and she'd never hated herself more than she did at that moment. Was this how things were going to be, from now on? Was he so disappointed he couldn't even bring himself to touch- the squeeze of apparition ground her self-pitying to a full stop.

They stood outside her apartment door. "Sorry for that. I know you said you don't like apparition, but-" he ran a hand through his hair, and Megan blinked at the realisation that he was still shirtless. "There's no way I'd ever be able to sleep without knowing you were home, safe."

Touched by his sweet gesture, Megan put a hand on his chest. "Thank you."

This time, there was nothing awkward about the embrace Harry offered in reply, and he held her firm when she started to pull back, their faces inches apart in the dimly lit hallway. "I don't know about you, but I'd like to do this again tomorrow." His lips brushed against hers once, then twice, and she could feel a smile against her mouth. "Maybe without the wine, though."

"I was a disaster," she protested, though she offered no resistance to his feather-light kisses, readily opening her mouth to him as they turned harder, more passionate. They made out like teenagers in a broom closet, right outside her apartment door.

"If you think I want you any less after tonight, think again," he muttered, shifting his body slightly. The movement made her acutely aware of just how true that was, feeling for herself his need pressing against her. "Goodnight, Megan."

And then he was gone, his exit punctuated by a loud crack!

Megan slipped inside her flat in case any neighbours decided to investigate the noise. She paced her small studio, wandering back and forth while she thought about what happened. Parts of it were almost too embarrassing to think about, but others…

For the first time, Megan felt an intense regret at not being more outgoing, more willing when it came to the opposite sex. From the time she understood what it meant to be with a man, to want to be with a man, she'd assumed the proper thing to do would be to save herself for marriage. That was what was proper, right?

To a young teenager, especially one who struggled as much as Megan did, propriety was a comforting assurance. One that allowed her to ignore her hormones and desires while she focused on more important things.

Then the war started to heat up, culminating in the Battle of Hogwarts. She was there, present for the start of bloodshed, but Megan wasn't a fighter. Instead, she spent almost the entire battle with Madam Pomfrey in the Hospital Wing. The Hogwarts healer, unable to cope with the volume of injured, was forced into a ruthlessly unemotional triage - she'd evaluate each new victim, leaving a splash of colour with her wand on the wall behind their pillow to mark their priority. Red for critical, yellow for stable, and black for those too far gone for her to help.

Megan was the sole assistant she had, so while Pomfrey worked herself to exhaustion and expended the infirmary's limited supplies trying to keep the 'reds' alive, it fell on her to comfort the 'blacks'. She'd sit and hold their hands and tell them it was going to be alright, that someone would be by to help them soon, that they'd make it through this. She sat beside them and said those things, even though she knew no help would come.

By the time it was over, Megan was broken.

So while her classmates celebrated, wandering off and coupling up to find comfort and share their grief and adulation, Megan remained in the Hospital Wing, with only Madam Pomfrey to support her. It didn't feel like a victory to them.

Maybe that was why she'd fled to Wales right afterwards, why she retreated to the past, to Holyhead. To the only family she knew. And once she was back, Megan felt like some part of her regressed back to that frightened little girl, the one desperate to show her aunt she wasn't like the mother she never knew. That she was responsible, grounded.

Gods, she was a mess. If only she'd simply found some random wizard after the battle, none of this would be an issue. She wouldn't be the only - 'probably' - witch in her year still a virgin.

'Tomorrow', Harry had said. But who's to say the same fears wouldn't rear their head once more? She needed a bit of confidence. She needed some advice, preferably not the sort she'd received from Madam Pomfrey as a young teen.

Turning her wrist to check the time, Megan frowned. It was getting late; it was now or never. She tightened her scarf and hurried out the door to the Dusty Dragon, praying she wasn't too late.

"So are you going to tell me what's wrong?" Megan hesitated, hands clenching at the fabric of her seat. "Oh! I'm making a poor show at hosting. Maybe some wine?"

"No! I mean, I'm fine, thanks." More alcohol was the last thing she needed, especially with the late hour. "I was hoping we could have, y'know, some girl-talk."

Her host's eyebrows rose almost to her hairline in disbelief, and Megan honestly couldn't blame her for her surprise. After all, for all the years of gossiping and chatter in their dorm, Megan had never, not once, offered a story of her own. "Girl-talk?" Susan repeated. "Like, what, exactly?"

"How are things going with Wayne?"

"Meggie… Let me see if I've got this straight: you Floo me at half-past ten on a weeknight and ask to come over, you show up looking like you just crawled out of a very crowded bed to get here, and you want to talk about how things are going with me and Wayne?"

She didn't look that bad, did she? So maybe she was a bit rumpled, and her hair was a mess, and- oh Merlin, she'd forgotten to put her bra back on! "Sorry."

Susan was the only person she could think to turn to. She'd been Megan's best friend in Hogwarts, though it was readily apparent the other girl didn't think of her in the same light. No, it was always Susan and Hannah, best friends practically from the day they met. But Hufflepuffs stick together, and Susan was nothing if not the consummate example of the House of the Loyal. She'd always made room for Megan, always spared time for her; thankfully, that didn't seem to have changed despite the years that passed.

"I've met someone, and-"

"Ohhhh! That's wonderful! I knew someone would win you over eventually, you've become just so beautiful!"

"It- it's not like that. He's- this thing, it's strictly casual."

"That doesn't sound like you."

Wasn't that the whole problem, though? Megan's inability to let loose, to have fun, to live in the moment? "I think that's rather the point of it."

Susan frowned. "I don't understand. So you want more, but he won't commit? Hmph! Haven't we all been there before!"

"No, you don't understand. I mean, that might be how he feels. I don't know, we've never talked about it."

With a queer look on her face, Susan asked, "What did Hannah bet you she'd do if you passed our Charms final, our Third Year?"

"Huh?" Megan was confused at the random question. "She said she'd ask Ernie to Hogsmeade on the Express after the summer." Hannah was always the most flighty of their group, and she'd nursed a crush on their Housemate for their first few years at school. Motivating Megan to study had been a kind way of psyching herself up to ask him out.

Susan gave a firm nod. "Okay, so you're not someone else under Polyjuice Potion." At Megan's disbelieving look, she shrugged. "What? You come in here looking like you've just been shagged sideways by a man you're not even dating! What was I supposed to think?"

Her face heated up at her friend's blunt appraisal. 'If only!' "I just- I wanted to talk, is all. Girl-talk, like I said."

"Okay. So what's he like?"

"Intense."

Susan laughed. "That's a nice start. Do I know him?" When Megan hesitated for a heartbeat too long, she gasped. "I do! Now you have to tell me!"

"I can't, really! And- and I don't want to talk about him."

"So… what did you want to talk about, then?"

With a deep breath to summon her courage, Megan delicately asked, "Can you tell me about your first time?"

"My first time?" Susan scrunched her nose like she had a bad taste in her mouth. "Ugh, I was such an idiot back then. I'm sure you remember it as well as I do."

Megan did; it had been terribly dramatic, even at the time. "Right, but-"

"Don't tell me your mystery man is like Terry was!"

"He's not-"

"Oh gods," Susan was on a roll now. "And those poems he used to write me! And the way he'd use the colour-change charm to make his hair black! What was I thinking?!"

She coughed, trying to drag the conversation back on topic. "I meant your first time, you know. When you and him, uh…"

"Shagged?"

"Yea."

Some understanding dawned on Susan's face. "You don't mean-" Megan just nodded, and she appeared to make an effort to wipe away the surprised expression from her face. "So you've never been with a man before, and you want to know what to expect."

"Yea."

"Okay, for this I definitely need some wine. You're sure you don't want any?"

"I have to be up early." Three year-olds didn't care if you were hungover, unfortunately.

"Not as early as I do, I'll bet. You can stay over. I'll set an alarm for us, and, worst-case scenario, Wayne'll come check on us." As if to cement her assurance, Susan pulled her wand out and cast a Patronus, whispering to it momentarily before it darted away. "Red or white?"

"Red." Like the kind she'd had with Harry earlier.

Susan ducked into her kitchen, returning shortly with a pair of filled-to-the-brim glasses. "So, what do you want to know?"

The frank question was actually a relief. Megan worried Susan would try and talk her out of it, or pass judgment of some kind. "Did it hurt?"

"Yea, some, but I was focused on other things. And if he's doing it right, you will be, too."

"The first time, though, with Terry. He, ah, he enjoyed it?"

Susan flipped her crimson hair over one shoulder and smirked. "I'll say." Then, recalling why they were talking about this, she put her hand on Megan's shoulder. "You don't need to worry about that. I'm assuming it's not his first time, is it?" When Megan shook her head, she went on. "And that's what's bothering you?"

"He's fresh out of a relationship. I knew- I mean, I've seen her before. She's gorgeous."

"So are you! And he'd have to be a right arse to be thinking about another woman when he's got a blonde bombshell in bed with him, anyway." Megan sipped her wine rather than answer. Easy for Susan to say, she didn't know the people they were talking about. "Listen, I'm not going to tell you what to do, but are you sure this is a good idea? You have to know he's on the rebound."

"Yea, I know."

"So, why? Why not with someone that will last? You've waited this long…"

How could she explain the way Harry made her feel? The raw sexual heat that passed between them every time they met? Megan needed to get him out of her system or she was afraid she'd never be able to find someone else. It'd be a lifetime of dates like her one with Duncan, wondering and wishing she'd given in to the desire she and Harry shared. "I want him, and he wants me. That's enough for the moment."

"Alright, you're a big girl. I won't tell you what to do. You know the contraceptive charm?"

"Of course!"

"Show me." Megan didn't move. "I'm not kidding around. When was the last time you cast it? Do you really want to mess it up and deal with that consequence?"

Not with Harry's child, no. "Fine." She pulled her wand out of her handbag and quietly cast the charm over her lower abdomen. "Happy?"

"Less so by the minute, but that's neither here nor there. Okay, what about lingerie?"

"Like… underwear?"

"It can help, with your nerves I mean. Knowing you look good makes you more confident, especially when you leave him speechless at the mere sight of you."

"I, um, I wore a matching bra and knickers."

"That's nice, but not really what I meant." Susan's smile promised danger ahead. "We look about the same size. And if it's a little tight, so much the better for this sort of thing. Time for a fashion show, Jones!"

It turned out Susan was even dirtier than she imagined, with a lingerie selection so vast it seemed more appropriate for a specialty store than one woman's apartment. Megan had never worn anything like the things she tried on; bustiers to corsets, bra-lettes to babydolls.

"You're lucky you came to see me and not Hannah, it's not easy finding the right fit when you're packing what we are," Susan said, emphasizing her own bust. "What do you think? Is that the one? Black is never a bad choice."

She wore a lacy black plunge-bra, unlined but with a subtle underwiring to provide just a touch of invisible support. A matching pair of black, cheeky knickers completed the ensemble. "You're sure he won't think I look ridiculous?"

"Honey, with this on you won't even make it to the bed, he'll have you the moment he lays eyes on you!"

"Thank you, really. I'll get these back to you as soon as I can."

Susan laughed hysterically. "With what you're going to do in them? No, consider it a gift. Now get dressed, and meet me back in the living room. I'll show you a thing or two I know that makes Wayne's toes curl."

By the time she got dressed and emerged from Susan's bedroom, her friend had arranged several suspiciously shaped fruits and vegetables on her coffee table. "You can't be serious."

Doing an admirable impression of Professor Sprout, Susan gestured to the sofa. "Take a seat, Jones."

Unable to hold back a giggle despite her mortification, Megan did as instructed. Something told her, though, she was going to need a lot more wine to get through this lesson.

A/N: I don't know if Megan's worries are anything close to realistic. Hard to write these things from a woman's POV, for sure.

Plot didn't move along much, but i hit 5k words and it felt like a good place to stop.

Side note: tried to promote my Oneshot Winter on reddit so i made an account and wrote up a promotion, but after more than 24 hours of "awaiting moderator approval" i deleted the post. So irritating. If you've got an account and are willing to post it, let me know.

I've been thinking a lot about the ease with which i can write stories like this. Once I've ironed a plan out more, i'll have something to say.

Til then,

Stay safe, healthy, and happy! ~Frickles