Author's Note: As a result of my teaser at the end of the last chapter, a few people warned me that snogging does not constitute an R rating. And they are obviously correct. Hey, I'm no prude! Heh. So let me take this chance to be more clear and warn anyone who wants a warning about these types of things - there is a mildly/moderate sexual situation ahead. It is more than a simple snog. At the same time though, everyone does keep their clothes on. Let's just say Harry and Ginny both have a REALLY good time, if you know what I mean and I think you do. As a result of that act and the semi-frank discussion surrounding it, I chose to give the fic an R rating - mostly because it is definitely above a PG-13. It's kind of a hard thing to define and the gap between PG and R is like massive, so I am erring on the side of caution. But all that said, heed the R - it is probably correct.
Meanwhile - Ginevra v. Virginia. I KNOW. Harry doesn't. And I don't mean to sound frustrated because I TOTALLY get why people think I don't know. The story is from Harry's POV and you are only privy to the same information he has. However, Ginny's name IS Ginevra and all will be explained in the finale chapter - otherwise known as Chapter Eight! For more information until then, please see the Author Notes on Chapter Five. And I know it is probably lame for me to repeat this here, since the people who are freaking out clearly aren't reading the Author Notes, but they seem quite upset, so I feel the need to at least try.
And now - what you have all been waiting for: MORE THAN SNOGGING!
Bewitched and Bewildered - Chapter Seven
Despite Ginny's apparent rebuff the morning after their alleged truce, Harry felt his confidence growing. Over the course of the next few days' Harry noticed Ginny was acting decidedly odd. She kept staring at him for one thing. And whenever he would catch her eye she would startle slightly and look away. That and she was talking to him again, almost as though the whole singing get well card incident had never transpired. As a result Harry decided to try a slightly different tactic.
The next note he sent with Hedwig simply read, "It has come to my attention that you might be bonkers. I just wanted to let you to know, I still like you, even despite the obvious infirmity."
And amazingly she wrote back, "You know, I hate to sound cliched, but I once heard that the definition of insanity is repeating the same action and expecting a different result. If I'm bonkers, you're the king of the looney bin."
And Harry replied, "Message received. All owls will now desist."
That evening, as Ron and Hermione made their rounds, Ginny sat across from him, sucking on a rather familiar looking sugar quill and staring at him completely unabashed. After five minutes he couldn't take it any more. He slammed down the book he was trying to read and blurted, "What!"
She didn't say anything. She rose from her seat and walked over to his chair, holding his gaze the entire time. Then she leaned over him, so close he could feel her breath on his face. She didn't move for what seemed like hours. Slowly she leaned even closer still and ran the tip of her nose along the side of his own, first on one side, then the other. That done, she abruptly stood up and sauntered from the room.
The next morning Harry found himself tying a chocolate frog to Hedwig's leg.
And that night Ginny brought it down to the common room and ate it, very, very slowly.
On and on the silent banter continued, until weeks had passed and it was time to return to Gimmauld Place for Christmas break. Harry was a little torn. With the school year going so well, he had been looking forward to returning to his old tradition of Christmas at Hogwarts. But at the same time, he couldn't be surprised at Mrs. Weasley's insistence on having her family together. And with Hermione included, it might even be like his own normal family Christmas. Even if it had to be at headquarters.
Unfortunately, the first night got off to a rather upsetting start. As Harry and Ron were getting ready for bed, Mr. Weasley came to their room. Harry knew at once that something was wrong. Mr. Weasley, looking rather pale, quickly informed them that Remus Lupin had been attacked while on a mission for the Order. Other members of the Order had responded quickly and he would be okay, but he would be in St. Mungo's for the next several days. Harry could visit the next afternoon if he wished.
Despite all the assurances that Lupin would be fine, Harry barely slept that night. He couldn't escape the feeling of guilt that gnawed horribly at his stomach. He knew he had to see him. At the same time, he knew the whole thing would be awkward and terrible.
The next day, Harry stood in the hospital hallway, trying to figure out what he could possibly say. Finally he decided just to get it over with, took a deep breath and opened the door.
As soon as Harry walked in, Lupin called out from the bed, "I am sorry to disappoint you."
"I'm sorry?" Harry asked, confused.
"I'm not dead," he said, sounding rather matter of fact.
It could have been a terribly biting remark but Harry could detect the beginnings of a smile tugging at Lupin's mouth. Harry gave a bit of grin. "I never wanted you to die," he said walking forward.
"No, but it might have been a bit of a relief." Harry stared, gobsmacked. Lupin raised his arms in a dramatic gesture. "I am well aware of my position as the last remaining Marauder. I suppose I must seem a bit doomed."
"Just a little," Harry agreed.
"It's interesting," Lupin mused. "It's the same position I was in three years ago, when Peter was dead and Sirius the traitor. Somehow I managed to survive for twelve years."
"But Petegrew wasn't really dead," Harry pointed out. "And Sirius was wrongfully convicted. That's all been worked out now."
Lupin nodded. "I see."
"Not to mention the fact you're fighting in a war," Harry continued. Really the evidence was just damning.
"Of course," Lupin conceded.
Harry sat down in the chair next to the bed, feeling his point had been made.
Lupin huffed a sigh, seeming to consider the evidence before him. "I'm surprised I still manage to leave the house every morning."
Harry crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm not sure I would recommend it."
Lupin allowed a small laugh which ended in a melancholy smile. Then he turned to Harry with a far more serious expression. "It's very easy, when those you love are taken from you, to try to cut yourself off from connecting with others. It's probably animal instinct to protect yourself from being hurt again. Fifteen years ago I lost everyone who was truly important to me in a matter of days. That on top of the lycanthropy was a blow I just couldn't take. I walked alone in this world without a true friend for twelve years."
"What about Dumbledore?" Harry asked. "He gave you the teaching position."
"Dumbledore is a friend," Lupin agreed. "A supporter certainly. But he's not a best mate. And he certainly isn't a girl," he said with a wry grin.
Harry laughed.
"What I am trying to say Harry, is that while my actions may be understandable, it was a waste of a decade." Lupin seemed to drift off for a moment before he added, "I didn't really appreciate that until I had Sirius back."
For the first time Harry really allowed himself to consider how Sirius' death had affected someone other than himself. And he was surprised to realize he was no longer certain whose pain was greater. "It must be awful. To lose him a second time."
"It is," Lupin acknowledged. "It feels like my chest has been ripped out." He gave a surprising snort. "And it turns out the familiarity of being alone again is actually terrifying, rather than a comfort. So I'm not going to do it again." He fixed Harry with a meaningful stare. "I would like to be your friend Harry."
Harry looked at Lupin. He felt petrified. He remembered how relieved he had felt at fourteen to realize he had someone in his life he could turn to for advice, someone like a parent. He wasn't sure he wanted to attempt this path again. But all of that felt too complicated to admit, so instead he offered, "You are the only connection I have left to my parents." It was true. If he lost Lupin, all ties would finally be severed.
Lupin answered "Yes," in a tone which told Harry he understood the gravity of the risk Harry was taking.
The temptation was almost as overwhelming as it was frightening. Finally, Harry steeled himself and offered his hand. Lupin grasped it and they shook. "Fine," Harry declared, "friends."
"Good," Lupin looked pleased.
The handshake paused as Harry raised a finger to amend, "Don't die."
"I'll do my best," Lupin chuckled.
As soon as the pact was made Harry felt a little different. Safer, more whole in the world somehow. He knew it was an illusion, but he enjoyed it anyway.
The two continued to chat comfortably for a while. Harry filled his old professor, now friend, in on all the details of his first semester. Well, almost. He left out the parts about Ginny. He wasn't sure he wanted to share those particular misadventures with anyone else just yet.
As the conversation wound down, Harry realized he now had an opportunity to find the answer to one of his doubts. If he dared. "There is something I want to ask you, about Sirius." Lupin waited for him to continue and Harry took a deep breath, steadying himself. "Did he know what was in the prophecy?"
Lupin observed him for a moment. "It seems that you now know yourself."
"Dumbledore told me last spring."
Lupin seemed to consider how to answer for a moment before he spoke. "I can only tell you what I was told Harry," he said. "That the prophecy spoke of a child matching your description as a person who could destroy Voldemort and that is why your parents took you into hiding. I am not sure if Sirius ever knew more than that. I am afraid we didn't really discuss it."
Harry was more than a little scandalized. "You never talked about it?"
Lupin raised an appeasing hand. "You have to understand, Harry, for a long time there it didn't seem to matter. I knew the prophecy pointed to you as a someone who could defeat Voldemort and for all intents and purposes, you had. It seemed your role was over."
"Then why did you think Voldemort was trying to steal it last year?" Harry demanded.
"Because," Lupin answered forcefully, "he believed it may reveal why he hadn't been able to kill you before and use that information to kill you now."
Harry slumped in his seat. "There's a bit more to it than that." He sighed, "It's him or me. Or maybe both of us. I'm not really sure about that part."
He felt Lupin scrutinizing him for a few seconds before he asked, "Do you want to tell me?"
For the fourth time Harry spoke the prophecy allowed. He then also recounted the few other relevant tidbits of information that Dumbledore had given him the previous spring. When he finished, Lupin was regarding him with deep sympathy. "I am sorry Harry."
Harry swallowed over the painful lump in his throat. He really didn't want to dwell on his fate too heavily right now. "Do you think Sirius knew?"
Harry could tell that Lupin was contemplating the question very seriously as he closed his eyes and thought about his friend for a while. Finally he answered, "My best guess is that Sirius did not know the exact wording, but that he may have suspected. And knowing that he had been denied the information, he may have believed that the one person Dumbledore would consider revealing the full contents to would be you. And that is why he was trying to make you ask questions."
How did that make any sense? Why wouldn't he have just been straight with him? Harry was dumbfounded and sounded it. "Why didn't he just tell me?"
"I don't know Harry," Lupin said sounding rather tired. "Possibly, respect for Dumbledore. His natural inclination to try to get around the rules, rather than break a direct order. Sirius was your godfather Harry, but Dumbledore is our leader in this war. And he had led us to success in the past."
"He didn't," Harry nearly spat.
"Harry?"
Harry felt his old anger returning. "The only reason Voldemort vanished for all that time is because my mother sacrificed herself to save me. It had nothing to do with Dumbledore or anyone else."
"That ultimately may be true, but we fought for a long time before that happened. A lot of people died, but many other lives were saved as a result of our efforts and Dumbledore's leadership. We may not have been turning the tide, but we were holding it back, until you came along." Lupin smiled at him sadly, "I'm not giving you the answers you wanted."
A few hours later, Harry was once again sitting in the drawing room in Grimmauld Place. The charred hole in the family tapestry was just as fascinating as ever. Harry had so hoped to absolve Sirius of any guilt and now he was left with just as many questions as before.
It was the middle of the night and everyone else in the house was asleep. Harry was feeling a little cold in the large room in nothing but his old faded pajamas, but he didn't care. The chill suited his foul disposition just fine.
The door to the room creaked open. Great. Now what?
Ginny entered, dressed in a pair of faded flannels covered with flying brooms. Harry was relieved at her attire, if she was in anything else he would have to be embarrassed about his own.
Trying, at least, not to sound too surly he asked, "What are you doing here?"
"Looking for you," she answered simply.
"Why?"
Ginny sat down beside him. She looked like she had something to say, a lot to say, but was having difficulty. Finally she took a deep breath, "Care for a snog Harry?"
Harry was flabbergasted. "A snog?"
"Yes."
"A full out snog, not even just a kiss?" It was amazing how fast his mood could swing. He suddenly wasn't feeling grumpy anymore. He wasn't sure what he was feeling, but it wasn't grumpy.
"Mmhmm."
A million questions started to form in his brain: was she kidding? Had she gone mad? Not to mention just plain old why? But his heart started to thump, his throat dried and his stomach buzzed and he realized he would be the boy who was stupid if he didn't push them all aside. "Alright."
Ginny licked her lips and moved closer to him. At least she had the decency to appear slightly as nervous as he felt. She removed his glasses. "I've always loved your eyes you know."
He didn't. Almost as an automatic response he said, "Apparently they're my mother's."
"She must have been beautiful," Ginny breathed.
"She was." He was about to say "just like you," but quickly decided comparisons with his mother were far too dangerous at this particular moment, especially considering Ginny's distinctive hair.
She inched closer and he closed his eyes, just wanting to bask in her nearness a bit. He could feel her breath, warm on his face. He remained as still as possible, terrified that if he moved, even a little, she would remember that she still hadn't decided if she liked him and might change her mind. Her nose gently nudged against his own. The anticipation was nearly killing him. She was about to kiss him. Any moment now. Hopefully before he barfed.
Soft lips brushed his own. Just for a moment.
Then again, a little longer.
And again, longer and harder still.
He moved. He couldn't help it. His hands slid into her hair and held her to him. Everything started to move faster. Mouths opened and he could finally taste her as her tongue deliciously slid against his own. The flavour was heady, human, almost indescribable aside from the slight hint of minty-fresh. She had known she would be kissing him when she came down the stairs. A bizarre thought entered his brain: conjuring a happy memory for a Patronus would never be difficult again. But thoughts were pushed away as small hands came up against his chest and pressed him down.
Her weight covering the length of his body felt amazing, especially as her hands began to dance: lightly over his face, into his hair, grabbing his arms and over his chest and back again.
Harry could almost count the number of times he had been touched in love or affection. A few hugs from Hermione. That kiss on the cheek at the end of fourth year. One wonderful motherly hug from Mrs. Weasley, plus a few others as she fussed over him in the last year. A few kisses with Cho, before he ended up holding her as she cried.
Nothing in his life compared to this.
And he needed more. The need was so great it was almost choking him and he had to let it out.
He started trying to turn them over and she seemed to understand as she began to wriggle against in an attempt to help. It was all a bit awkward, arms and legs everywhere, lips still desperately glued together, but the wriggling felt pretty good, till finally he found himself on top of her, and somehow, amazingly, cradled between her hips.
He could feel her heat radiating up against in him the best possible location. On instinct he rocked himself up against her. She made this little noise, something between a whimper and a moan and he took that as good sign and rocked again. And again. Her legs wrapped up around him and he hoped that meant she was enjoying this as much as he was, because if he had to stop... Well, something really terrible would happen. Like he might die or go insane or something.
He had gone from almost no physical contact whatsoever to something that was unbelievable all at once and it just couldn't stop. The rocking became much more insistent. Breathing turned to panting and their kisses became broken, landing haphazardly on the lips, the cheek, the nose, everywhere. He felt her hands travel down to his bum, holding him firmly in place and he was lost.
For a few moments she went terribly rigid, her hips squeezing his almost painfully and he worried he was hurting her. But then he felt her sucking his ear and she started raining kisses that seemed much less urgent than his own all over his face.
It was so strange, he was so far gone he was only really conscious of two things. Everything inside his head, which was still aching with need, but also screaming with joy. And his sex, which was also aching with need and about to let out a scream of its own. Some part of him knew that he was about to make a terrible mess, that he should pull away. But he couldn't, stopping was unthinkable. He needed desperately to fall into that oblivion he knew was coming. Any moment now. Just a few...more...seconds. Please. Please. Please!
Bliss!
His whole body shuddered and convulsed, down from his head and up from his toes, out that one part of him in an unfathomable burst of ecstasy.
He was aware he was making several gasping, choking noises until he regained a bit of control and returned to simple heavy breathing. He lay his head against her neck and held her tight, still needing support. He had never felt so warm or so safe. Ever.
One by one his senses returned to normal. He could feel her hands stroking his hair. Her voice whispering in his ear. She was all sweaty under him. Both of them were completely soaked. And he was, oh Lord, he was wet and sticky.
Joy was gone and he was seized with panic. He pushed himself up and off of her and to the other end of the couch, as far away as possible. Oh God. This was unbearably, humiliatingly awful. He couldn't believe what he had just done. She had asked for a simple snog and he had... He had completely lost control. In the most amateurish, horrid way possible. She would hate him. At the very least she would be completely embarrassed by him. He was absolutely, thoroughly perverted.
A tiny voice came from the other end of the couch, "Harry?" She sounded confused rather than angry. Well, at least that was a start.
Everything was blurry. He wasn't sure he wanted to see her face, but he couldn't just sit there in a fog. "G, glasses?" They were pressed into his hand. As he pushed them up his nose Ginny's face emerged from the haze. Her hair was a total mess, sticking to her face here and there with sweat and she was a bit pink. She looked beautiful.
She also looked very concerned. "Harry, what's wrong?"
"I'm sorry Ginny," he stuttered.
"For what?"
"For that," Harry gestured awkwardly at the space between them. "I didn't mean to, to..."
"But Harry," Ginny interrupted. "I liked it."
Harry was stunned to say the least. "What?"
"It felt good. I mean, you know that I," she waved her hand, looking a little embarrassed, "you know, did to. Right?"
"No."
"You couldn't tell?" she asked in a small voice.
"No."
Ginny smiled shyly. "Maybe I'll let you know next time."
"Don't you think this is embarrassing?" Harry asked, still not really believing she wasn't just patronizing him.
"No," she answered firmly. "Harry, everybody does this. I mean there is a term for it you know, dry..."
"Don't!" He absolutely refused to compare himself to an overly enthusiastic terrier.
"Fine," Ginny grinned cheekily, "but it rhymes with bry bumping."
"How would you know what everybody else does anyway?" Harry grumbled.
"Because I live in a girls' dorm," she said as though it was obvious. "Girls talk about, well, everything actually."
Great, giggling girl talk. "Gossip you mean."
"No," Ginny clarified. "Well, some girls gossip. But no, I mean more like a research exchange. Kind of a free market for information crucially necessary to being a girl. Don't you guys talk about this stuff?"
Harry had mostly stayed out of those conversations, not really having much to contribute. "Some of the guys brag, but not about anything they would find embarrassing. The only person I would talk about this kind of thing would be..."
"Ron," Ginny sighed. "And he's with Hermione so you don't. And I guess it's not going to help that you're with me."
"Am I with you?" Harry asked. That was news to him.
"What do you think I am? A slag?" Ginny joked. "And seriously, there is nothing to be upset about." She moved down the couch, bridging the gap between them and taking his hand. "That was amazing. I loved it. I've never felt THAT with another person before."
Harry couldn't help it. He needed to get the attention away from himself. "If it's so normal why didn't you feel IT with Michael?"
Ginny snorted, "Because I was a year younger. And I was too scared to do anything but kissing."
Suddenly Harry was feeling very tired. He pulled his hand away from hers. "Why are you here Ginny? I thought you had decided not to like me."
"Do you want the long version or the short?"
"Let's start with the short," Harry muttered.
"Well," she grinned, "you're very charming and I was feeling bad for you about Lupin."
"WHAT?" Harry leapt off the couch. "This, this, this was because you felt sorry for me! This was pity?" As if the whole thing wasn't humiliating enough, this was absolutely horrid.
Ginny stood up and tried to reach out to him but Harry dodged and began pacing. "I thought you might need the long one. Harry, sit down."
He swung around and pointed an accusing finger in her direction. "You! You are one of the only people who has never acted like I needed taking care of. Well you certainly took care of me tonight didn't you?"
Ginny grabbed him by his shirt collar and shoved him back down to the couch. Hard. "I did no such thing." Harry stilled, almost afraid to move. "Now you are going to sit still and listen."
Harry appraised Ginny warily and decided his best course of action was to do as he was told.
"Do you remember the Yule Ball?" she started.
That again. "Of course." Really, he thought, he was never going to be allowed to forget, apparently.
Ginny sat down beside him. "You were desperate for someone to go with and yet you didn't even consider me."
Harry knew this. Hermione had told him already. Hermione had practically even used the same words. "Do we really need to go back over the history of my being an idiot?"
"Yes." Ginny smiled at him. "Sorry, but yes."
Ginny shook her head, looking a little sad. "I adored you Harry and you never even noticed me. I had worn my heart on my sleeve for three years and I didn't even occur to you when you really needed someone. Ron had to suggest it. That's when I knew, that as far as you were concerned, I barely even existed."
Her voice turned slightly hard. "It was good to know I guess. To have it spelled out, so I couldn't kid myself anymore. But it hurt. A lot. And I knew I just couldn't do it any longer. I decided to steel myself and be rid of you once and for all. I closed the door. And I will have you know it was hard." She looked down and blushed. "Michael helped though."
Ginny breathed out a dramatic sigh. "It was so good to be free of you, you have no idea. I had felt like such a little idiot every time I was near you. And I don't know if you realize it, but you spend a considerable amount of time with my family. To finally feel like myself again when you were around was almost astounding and it really brought into perspective how foolish I had always acted before."
"I never thought you were foolish," Harry said honestly.
"Shhh," she put her fingers to his lips, "this is my story. It was a very good year for me, personal growth wise. And then something truly amazing happened: we became friends. And IREALLY like being your friend Harry."
"Then you gave me that card." Ginny's face visibly blanched at the memory. "There I was sitting in the hospital wing, not the cheeriest of places, feeling hideously ugly and downright sorry for myself. And while I know you're my friend and would never be purposely cruel to me I did think that you were teasing me. Maybe having fun at my expense in some sort of backwards attempt at cheering me up. It just... It had just honestly never occurred to me that you were EVER going to like me. And I'm sorry Harry, but it made me feel like that little idiot again and I realized how immensely important it was that I NEVER go back there."
Harry felt the need to interrupt, to clear himself. "But I explained..."
"I know and that was even more horrifying." Ginny took his hand again, trying to make him understand. "I was terrified Harry. You were my first crush and I've always cared for you and we had become so close that I realized if I opened that door again I would be lost. I would fall hard and I might not get back up. If you just fancied me a little and we dated a bit and you decided it wasn't going to work after all, I would have been in for a world of pain." She swallowed and added in a quiet voice, "I just couldn't risk it."
"Then you wouldn't go away and you became so annoying," Ginny continued, suddenly sounding exasperated. "I finally broke down and asked Hermione what the hell was wrong with you."
Oh God. Harry didn't even want to imagine that conversation. "Hermione, she didn't..."
"She wouldn't tell me much." Ginny glared at him. "She was frustratingly loyal to you. She told me that you were serious. That you weren't just playing around and she wanted to impress on me the fact that it seemed you really cared for me a great deal and had for a while. That was the night of the quidditch match with Malfoy." She squeezed his hand. "The next night when we talked, I cracked. And you got in. Even though I had been trying so hard not to let you."
Harry felt the bolt of injustice with ever fibre of his being. "But that was a month ago!"
"Come on Harry," Ginny groaned. "I know you noticed my reaction to you changed. You can't deny you were playing along, at least a little."
"Maybe," Harry grumbled.
She gazed at him imploringly. "It wasn't until I calmed down and stopped being mad at you all the time that I really appreciated what was happening. You were chasing me! It was amazing. And when I allowed myself to actually have those feelings again, I'm sorry, but I couldn't get enough."
Harry still couldn't let it go. Three weeks of snogging, totally thrown away. "Amazing for you maybe."
Ginny lifted her arm and pulled on her pajamas in demonstration. "Like I said, heart on sleeve, nearly three years, you deserved it. And I don't think you are getting the gravity of this: after all this time, YOU were chasing ME. I'll be honest," she said, looking a little devilish, "I was a little tempted to play with you until this summer. Then sometime at the Burrow I was going to toss you in the pond and have my way with you."
"If we even get to go back there this summer," Harry griped.
"Excuse me," Ginny raised both eyebrows, "this was my fantasy and it was a good one."
"So what made you decide to have mercy on me?" Harry asked in earnest.
"Like I said," Ginny shrugged, "Lupin. I felt awful. I shouldn't have been playing silly romantic mind games with you, even if you did deserve them. Not with everything else you've been through. I'm sorry Harry." And she looked like she meant it.
Harry sighed, "So it really was a pity bry bumping."
"Not pity." She climbed into his lap and put her arms around his neck. "I love you, Harry. And I suddenly realized I didn't want to waste any more time. I wanted to share that with you." And then she started kissing him again.
Now of course Harry had quite the distressing dilemma: what to do with his pajamas. His first instinct was to hide them until he had a chance to clean them himself. There was no way he could allow Mrs. Weasley anywhere near the offending garments. At the same time though, he realized such odd behaviour would only ensure she discovered his guilt. They had already been down this road before.
One night during his first summer at the Burrow, when he was just twelve years old, Harry had woken up from quite the pleasant dream, only to find himself in a bit of a mess. He was horrified. These people had just taken him in! There was no way he could survive such a generous woman discovering his, his, well, his obvious perversion.
Harry did the only sensible thing he could think of. He snuck downstairs at dawn in an attempt to do his own laundry before anyone else was out of bed. Unfortunately he miscalculated. Mrs. Weasley was in the habit of rising early to prepare breakfast for her brood and she caught him standing over her wash tubs trying to figure out which potion was soap.
She tsk tsked kindly at him before saying, "Harry dear, I am happy to take care of your things while you're here." When she attempted to take said things from him, Harry held firm and tried to insist. After all, he told her, she had enough to take care of and was so kind to let him stay, he didn't want to cause her any trouble. Mrs. Weasley pulled at the garments again and said, "Don't be silly, you're our guest and it will be faster for me to do it since I can use magic. No trouble at all."
A bit of a tug of war ensued. Both parties remaining amicably polite until, in a fit of sheer desperation, Harry pulled so hard he nearly knocked the poor woman to the floor.
Mrs. Weasley regained her balance with a look of grim determination that told Harry she had just figured out exactly what was going on. Harry hung his head in shame as she took the pile from his arms in a manner that brokered no argument. Then he felt a mother's hand squeeze his shoulder. "Harry, I have six sons. What is happening is perfectly normal. There is nothing wrong with you."
It was a relief to hear, but he still couldn't look her in the eye as he turned to leave the room. When he reached the door she commented to him in the same sympathetic tone, "I suppose it's time I send Arthur to have a bit of chat with you and Ron. Tonight after dinner. It should help make you feel better about everything."
Harry managed an affirmative grunt in reply. As he ascended the stairs he couldn't help but notice that Mrs. Weasley's voice took on quite a different timbre as she started muttering, "Damnable, horrible muggles, not telling the boy anything." Then the water started running, drowning out anything else she might have said on the subject.
Mr. Weasley appeared in the bright orange room just as the boys were getting ready for bed. After he had started and the topic of discussion became clear Ron interrupted, "Dad, didn't we already..." A sharp look from Mr. Weasley stoped his son from commenting further. Harry felt even more awful. Ron had obviously already received this particular chat, meaning that this meeting really was all about Harry. Ron was just a beard. It didn't help that Ron's ears turned a dangerous shade of red.
Now Harry was no eejit. He knew where babies came from. Mr. Weasley just filled in all the fascinating gaps, along with the rather harrowing details of what Harry could expect over the next couple of years. He also included a healthy account of what would be happening with the girls, which made Harry rather happy that he wouldn't have to face Hermione for another week. He was also glad for the first time that Ginny still kept insisting on slamming her door in his face.
It will be many years later, when Harry is set the task of speaking to his own son, that he will fully appreciate exactly what Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had done for him. The duty of discussing the facts of life with his own flesh and blood will be nerve-wracking enough, he will only be able to imagine what it must have been like for the Weasley's having to share this delicate information with the quiet boy whom they had only recently welcomed into their home. When he is finished the talk, he will find his wife in the kitchen, sitting at the table quietly sipping a cup of tea. He will kneel in front of her and rest his head in her lap. And he will tell her, not for the first time, how extremely grateful he is for her wonderful family.
But that was still years away and Harry still had an enormous predicament. He knew that because of the deal he had struck with Mrs. Weasley when he was twelve he couldn't start hiding his bedclothes four years later. She would know something was amiss. The only answer was to put his pajamas in with his regular laundry. But as he dropped the items into the basket he still felt a bit guilty. Despite all of Ginny's assurances and how wonderful the experience had felt, a small part of him worried that he had just done something a little bit dirty with the daughter of the family that had practically adopted him.
Author's note: It's funny, the last several times I have edited this chapter I have removed words to make the pseudo sex scene, less sexy. It was slightly more erotic in its original form, but when it came time to posting I wasn't sure that was the tone I wanted. That said I hope no one found it too weird.
Harry's comfort with sexuality was something I felt a little passionately about examining. It occurred to me that he has absolutely no support system when it comes to this area. Also, he has had zero by way of physical affection almost his entire life and certainly for all that he can remember of it. It seems to me that when he finally does experience positive touching it might be rather extremely overwhelming.
The sex ed thing - when we met Harry he was ten. When I went to school we covered this stuff in either grade six or seven, I can't remember for certain. And six is the grade that would be equivalent to his first year at Hogwarts. Since we have never been given any indication of Health class in the books, I am using the assumption, for the sake of this story, that is a topic left for parents in the wizarding world.
Of course it is entirely possible they do have Health with Madam Pomfrey and we just don't hear about it, because we will NEVER hear anything about this topic in any of the books. I mean, there was a fade to black for Harry's first kiss! But that is the entire reason I just had to go there on my own.
And if anyone is looking for a plot bunny on a related topic. Something else the books omit for understandable reasons, but I find deeply curious and interesting - Hermione also went through puberty pretty much alone and managed to keep quiet about it. I mean, I had my mom, two older sisters and oodles of girlfriends. Hermione has two boys, clueless ones when it comes to girls at that, as her best friends. The things this poor girl must have gone through and these guys never noticed.
