Chapter Eleven: Passion

Harry stared at her for a long moment. A very small part of him knew they shouldn't. How would he feel afterwards? Would the guilt be too much for him? Would he be able to face Cho?

But as Ginny shifted on the bed and moved closer to him, her hand in his hair, stroking the back of his head, all thoughts of Cho fled his mind. At that moment there was only Ginny, looking beautiful and offering herself to him, offering to let him drown his pain inside her, and asking him to let her do the same. Harry felt a powerful throbbing between his legs and suddenly knew he couldn't possibly say no to her. He knew he wanted her more than anything.

"Yeah," he whispered, taking her face in his hands and kissing her. She gave a soft moan and leaned into him, taking his tongue into her mouth, tasting him, and her fingers tangled in his hair.

Slow, he thought, as he lowered her gently back onto the bed. Go slow.

"Harry," she whispered, as his lips left her mouth and trailed over her face and down her neck. He nipped softly at the skin with his teeth, then moved to her earlobe and nibbled there. She gave another soft moan.

Harry let his weight settle gently down on top of her as he moved his mouth back to hers, kissing her deeply. Her hands pulled at his shirt and then moved beneath it to stroke his back. He sighed at her touch and turned his head as her mouth moved over his jaw, onto his neck.

Ginny tugged his shirt higher, and Harry pulled himself up, just enough, to let her remove it completely. She tugged it over his head and he felt his glasses go askew.

The shirt came off. Ginny giggled at the sight of his glasses half-hanging off his face.

"Damn things," he muttered, taking them off and tossing them on his desk. He yanked his right arm free from the sleeve of his shirt and then settled back down on top of Ginny, kissing her again, willing himself to slow down even as his body begged him to get on with it.

His hands were roaming over her, exploring her curves above the fabric of her clothes. His hands moved over her breasts, across her tummy, to her hips, down her thighs, which were smooth as silk. He took a deep breath to keep himself from tearing her clothes off, and moved his hands back to the bodice of her blouse, which he began to unbutton, as slowly as he could. He kissed her mouth again and she shifted just slightly to give him better access to the buttons.

He was halfway finished with the blouse when he stopped kissing her (he realized he really needed to breathe) and looked down at her. Her hair was spread out on the bed like a fiery halo and her face and freckled chest were flushed. Her lips were red and wet from kissing, and her eyes were glazed, erotic.

"Wow," he murmured, finishing with the blouse and pulling it open to reveal a pale pink lace brassiere.

"Kiss me," she whispered, and he did; his right arm was under her shoulders now and his left hand traveled from her waist up to her breasts, where he stroked them through the lace of her bra, his thumb making gentle circles across her nipples.

"Oh, god," she moaned, tightening her arms around him.

His mouth moved to her neck, across her chest, to just above her breasts, where he was now dying to taste them, lick them.

"Take it off," she whispered urgently. "Please..."

He moved his mouth up to hers and kissed her again; he couldn't get enough of her. He gripped her tightly and rolled her on top of him. Her skirt hitched up as she straddled him and pressed her pelvis against his.

"Oh," Harry groaned, his left hand moving to her bottom and cupping the left cheek firmly, pulling her pelvis into his again. She pulled off her blouse and kissed him again, and his right hand traveled up her back and found the clasp of her bra. He unhooked it.

She laughed gently against his mouth.

"What?" he croaked, gripping her lace-covered bottom.

"You did it," she said, her breath hot as it mingled with his. "One- handed."

He grinned wickedly. "I've been practicing," he rasped, kissing her hard, gripping her round the waist and rolling on top of her again. His groin was throbbing in agony but somehow he was holding it together.

He was kissing her again, her mouth, her face, her neck, her collarbones, her chest. He groaned out loud as he moved his mouth over her breasts; she gave a gasp and arched her back, which only aroused him more. His left hand moved over the outside of her thigh. Ginny shifted beneath him.

"Touch me," she whispered urgently, as he brought his mouth back up to hers. "Please." She shifted again and took his left hand and put it between her silky knees.

Harry closed his eyes and kissed her again, more slowly this time, and let his hand move upward, upward, upward, until it came to that private, mysterious place that was covered by lacy knickers. Ginny gave a whimper and her knees fell open as he brushed his hand across that place.

He stopped kissing her and looked down at her. Her lips were parted and her eyes were cloudy, her lids half-closed. She was breathing in short gasps, her chest rising and falling, her skin glowing in the candlelight. He caressed her between her legs and she arched her back again, moaning softly. It was the sexiest, most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. He caressed her again and felt wetness through the knickers and felt another surge between his own legs.

"Mmm," Ginny moaned, closing her eyes and moving her hips beneath his hand. Harry took a deep breath and forced himself to breathe. Don't lose it now, he thought.

"Take them off," Ginny begged, arching her back again as he stroked her over her knickers. "Everything."

Harry's eyes widened, just a bit, and he nodded. His free hand moved to her hip and found the zipper on her skirt and tugged it down, then gripped the waistband. She arched up again and he pulled the skirt down over her hips, over her legs, her knees, past her ankles, where he let it drop.

Now for the knickers, he thought, looking back up at her. He swallowed.

Slowly, he thought. Breathe. His hand caressed her hip and gripped the elastic of the knickers and he pulled. He pulled them lower, lower, feeling the silk of her thigh, the smooth, hard muscle of her calves; he sat up slightly and slid the knickers over her ankles and let them drop on the floor.

He turned back to her and his breath caught. He swallowed again, hard, at as a lump rose in his throat.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered, in awe of her. His hand moved from her ankle and slowly back up her thighs. He leaned down and kissed her slowly, as his hand moved again between her legs, touching her.

She gasped and threw back her head as he began to stroke her.

Gently, he told himself, trying not to lose control even as she moaned out loud. She was wet there, a silky, sexy kind of wetness; the skin was very tender and soft and utterly female. He stroked her again and again, loving the way it felt.

She gave another hitching gasp and looked into his face. He remembered the page in the book, with the diagram, and felt overcome. Suddenly touching her with his hands wasn't enough.

"Ginny," he said, his voice ragged, "I want to...oh, god...let me...let me taste you. Please."

Ginny gave another gasp and put her arms round his neck.

"Are you sure?" she asked, her voice a reedy whisper.

"Yes," he begged, "yes."

She nodded. He kissed her mouth and trailed his lips and tongue down, over her shoulders, the smooth valley between her breasts, down to her tummy. He was nervous, so nervous he trembled. He wasn't sure, really, if he could do this. He just knew he wanted to.

He shifted as she moved her legs apart. He was dizzy from the scent of her- the raw female scent. He closed his eyes and inhaled, his erection straining against his trousers, and he lowered himself slowly between her thighs, trailings kisses along the soft skin. He found the place between her legs and took another deep breath, and lowered his mouth to her.

He moaned at the taste. It was like honey, but something else. Erotic, earthy, completely arousing. She gave a small cry and began to sigh, and her hips arched up to him, opening her to him even more. He tasted her again, and again, and again, his own desire spiking every time he heard her cry out and felt her arch up.

Breathe, he told himself, and he breathed through his nose and shifted his weight again, his mind spinning, his erection aching. He heard her breathing, panting, gasping as he tasted her over and over again. She gave a loud cry and jerked beneath him, and Harry found himself gripping the bedspread and trying not to pass out from the knowledge that he'd just given her an orgasm.

She lay there on the bed, her legs still splayed, looking very naked and very beautiful, as Harry pulled himself up and lowered himself gently onto her. She gazed up at him and smiled.

"Wow," she whispered, and she kissed him.

Somehow the act of her kissing him, when he could still taste that most secret part of her, only made his erection strain even more, and he groaned. He kissed her back, tangling his hands in her hair. This was way, way better than he had ever have imagined it. And he still hadn't lost himself.

"I need you," she whispered in his ear, her hands going to his belt and unfastening it. "Please."

She pulled his belt from the loops of his jeans and tossed it carelessly on the floor, then pushed him over, rolling him onto his back. She straddled him.

"Oh, my god," Harry gasped, blinking hard and swallowing and forcing himself to think of other things to calm down his raging erection. But it was difficult, with Ginny naked on top of him, straddling him. She began to kiss him across his chest and stomach and he felt his hands move into her hair again. Her hands worked at opening the buttons of his jeans, undoing them all rather faster than he'd undone hers. She gave them a tug, sliding them down over his thighs; Harry grunted in relief as his erection was released from the confines of the jeans; Ginny smiled and pulled the jeans down over his ankles and let them drop on the floor, then pulled her self back over him and kissed him on the mouth.

He moaned when he felt her hands slide inside his boxers, stroking him.

Dead kittens, dead kittens, he thought, but it did nothing to calm the storm between his legs, the ache.

And then Ginny was pulling down his boxer shorts, and suddenly there was nothing between them. Not one scrap of clothing.

"Dear god," he gasped, as she lowered herself over him; he felt the wetness of her sex brush against his own and realized he had to be inside her, right now, or he might go mad from wanting.

He kissed her hard, wrapping his arms around her, and rolled her over onto her back, his body covering hers.

"Wait," she whispered, as he began to ease himself between her legs.

"What?" he asked, a little desperately.

"Condom," she whispered raggedly.

"Right!" he said, having completely forgotten about that. He rolled off her and threw open his night-stand drawer.

Condoms, condoms, condoms, where the bloody hell were they?

He found several of them. Thank god, he thought. He grabbed one and tore open the wrapper and put it on-all this took about three seconds.

Ginny giggled as he lowered himself back onto her; he kissed her hungrily as he lowered himself onto her again, finding her, entering her.

He gasped and groaned.

"Look at me," Ginny whispered. "Look at me."

He did, he looked right into her eyes. He couldn't bring himself to move-it felt so damn good that he knew if he moved he'd lose it.

But then she began to move beneath him, slowly, her eyes closing and opening, her mouth open.

"Move with me," she whispered, kissing his lips. He did. He sank into her more deeply, sucking in his breath. Then deeper-god, it felt like heaven. She began to rock slowly, back and forth, and he moved with her. It was incredible; the way she felt, the way he felt inside her, the way they moved. He wasn't sure just how he was managing to control himself, but right then he hoped he could stay inside her forever, feeling like this.

"Harry," she whispered, her breath hot in his ear, as he moved within her, faster, harder.

"God, Ginny," he cried, leaning down over her, his face inches from hers, his eyes locked in hers. His hands moved from her face to find her hands; he gripped them tightly and pressed them into the bed. She shifted beneath him just slightly and began to moan, faster and louder, with every movement.

She gave a loud cry and arched up, shuddering under him again. Harry's control snapped; it was too much, and he felt a cry burst from his throat as he lost himself inside her, his whole body quivering and trembling with the release.

He sank onto her, his heart pounding, the blood loud in his ears. The only sounds were those of his breathing, her breathing, their beating hearts, the rattle of the wind against the window pane. Their foreheads touched and he released her hands; she wrapped her arms around him and he brushed her hair back from her forehead. They were covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and the room was heavy with the scent of sex.

"Ginny," he whispered. "Ginny."

She smiled and stroked his face, his brow, ran her fingertips along his scar.

"That was lovely," she murmured, kissing him lightly on the lips.

He swallowed, his breath still a bit ragged even as his heartbeat finally began to slow.

"It...it was?" he asked, still unsure of how he did.

"Yes," she murmured. "Yes."

"I never knew...it could be...like that..." he whispered, nuzzling her and kissing her lips softly.

"Me, neither," she whispered. Harry met her gaze and felt a thrill of warmth in his chest, his abdomen.

"Really?" he asked, wanting to believe he'd done it right, that it had been as wonderful for her as it had been for him. The look in her eyes told him all he wanted to see.

"Yes," she whispered, kissing him slowly. He kissed her back and felt the warmth in his belly move lower.

"You don't suppose..." he murmured, as his mouth trailed to her ear, "...we could have another go..."

"You're incorrigible."