Chapter summary: Harry gets lost in a teenage fantasy.

Note: Thank you to everyone for all your wonderful encouragement for my first smut scene! It really helped as I continued on this foray. I rewrote this chapter so many times, I've lost count. I really hope you enjoy it though.


Harry found himself stopped in front of a magazine rack, his traitorous feet rooted to the ground. Ginny, decked out in her Holy Harpies uniform and poised flying on her broom, gazed back up at him, a wicked smile on her face and a fierce glint in her eye.

He pulled his cap lower and glanced around to see if anyone had noticed him. The young wizard manning the little stand seemed utterly disinterested in his surroundings, chewing on some Droobles and flicking lazily through a rag in front of him.

Swallowing hard, Harry gingerly picked up The Quidditch Weekly from the shelf. He swore the photo of Ginny gave him a pleased wink. He flipped to the centerfold, skimming the article that announced her new position as a starting Chaser, with several accompanying photos of her and the team.

It was strange being able to stare at her face unabashedly. He examined the magazine closer, wanting to see the familiar splatter of freckles. Photo Ginny threw her head back and laughed with delight at something one of her teammates leaned over to say. His mind drifted as her entire body shook with laughter.

Three weeks ago.

Twenty-two days, one hour, and fourteen minutes (not that he was counting), Harry had gone to the Leaky Cauldron to celebrate the engagement of his two best friends, and there she had been. Ginny, his best mate's sister, a professional Quidditch player, his unrequited crush of five pathetic years. Looking completely and utterly radiant.

For three weeks, he had agonized over what had happened. With every passing moment, he grew more and more certain that she had seen it as a mere dalliance, a one-time (ok, two-time) shag, and that was it. She couldn't even look at him when he suggested getting together again. His silly crush and any future possibilities had gone up in smoke. He had thrown himself at work to do anything, anything to chase away thoughts of Ginny.

But after last night's stakeout, he couldn't keep that night's memories at bay.

It had been a moment of weakness. The alcohol, the unconfined happiness for his best friends, the undeniable joy, and deep, deep down, a hollow loneliness and craving to be loved the way that Ron and Hermione had a burn-down-the-ground (and maybe even themselves) kind of love.

It had been so long since he had seen her, the first time in years since she was single and he might — just might — have the tiniest chance to bask in her presence, laugh unabashed at her jokes and wit, feel like he could be someone without a lightning scar.

And in the churn of these feelings, simultaneously dulled and sharpened by liquid courage, Ginny's alluring brown eyes had been so dangerously close and easy to drown in. In the haze of it all, he couldn't recall who moved first, if indeed there was an instigator, but in the crisp early winter evening, his lips were suddenly crashing against hers, and a hunger that had been suppressed for years came from the pit of his stomach to roar in his ears. She tasted like Firewhiskey but oh so, so much better. They kissed and kissed, lips tingling and sliding over each other. After what felt like several days, they pulled apart long enough for him to ask and her to say yes.

His eyes glazed over as the photograph of Ginny faded into intimate memories of her looking up at him through her lashes, her tongue flicking over her lower lip. The freckles that he had been amazed to discover under her shirt, beneath her bra, that lined up her thighs… How she had clung to him, writhed under his touch (his fingers, his tongue, his weight). He could practically smell that tantalizing flowery scent that followed her — practically feel her arching up against him, her soft skin pressed against his, her harsh breathing against his ear, her voice calling out his name.

"Excuse me?"

Harry nearly dropped the magazine. A portly man impatiently gestured toward the stand.

"Oh — sorry."

Harry shuffled a few steps back. The man turned his nose up at Harry while he carefully selected a copy of the magazine further back in the stack as if the further away from Harry's grubby fingers the better. With great dignity and a deliberate swish of his robes, he waddled past him to make his purchase.

Trying to stifle his laugh, Harry looked down at his copy, where the photo of Ginny continued to laugh, only now he felt like they were sharing some inside joke.

Careful there.

He should probably put it back before he got lost in more absurd flights of fancy. His hand held up the magazine, in line with the other copies, all of the Ginnys smiling winningly at him. He rocked back and forth on his heels. It would just feed his futile yearnings, add fodder to the flame.

But what if that walrus-like man was going to use the magazine for his lecherous purposes?

A monster stirred with formidable force in his chest.

Maybe he should buy all these copies.

No, Harry frowned at himself in disgust. It wasn't as if he hadn't had a lewd response. And for all he knew, the man was your average Quidditch fan.

Still.

If he was never going to be with her again in that way, maybe it wouldn't be the worst thing ever to cling onto this pathetic substitute.

Safely stashing the purchased magazine deep in his cloak, Harry hurried to his destination. He glanced up at the bruising purple and pink sky, the sun dipping its head down beyond the horizon. His little detour had taken longer than he thought, and now he was late to the former DA gathering. If he weren't excited to see Ron and Hermione, he probably would have begged off and curled back into bed. But he missed his best friends, especially considering how little he saw of Ron these days.

Pushing open the heavy door of the Leaky Cauldron, he was greeted with a rush of warm air, loud chatter, and the inviting smell of whatever Tom and Hannah were cooking up in the kitchen. Despite having eaten already, he took a deep, appreciative breath in.

"There he is!" Harry was warmed by Ron's shout over the noise. Laughter and the sound of glasses thumping against wood followed his voice. "Any longer and we were going to send a search party!"

Harry turned toward his best friend's voice, a snarky reply on the tip of his tongue, but his smirk and the words died as they formed when there, at a table several feet from Ron and Hermione's, standing between Neville and Luna, was Ginny.

Ginny with her flaming hair, giving him a devious smile. Here, surrounded by their friends, at the casual monthly former DA get-together that she usually missed. His friend. His friend whom he shagged.

"Oi, you just going to stand there?" Ron laughed.

"Shut up," Harry bristled, trying hard not to stumble as he headed over to their table. He greeted others as he passed the tables.

He tried shooting Ginny a furtive glance, but it was intercepted when frizzy hair engulfed his vision as Hermione threw her arms around him.

"Harry!"

"Hey Hermione," Harry said, returning her hug. He didn't see her enough these days.

"You're late. Where have you been?"

"Got sidetracked." He led her back to Ron.

"Not more work?" Hermione asked with a frown, Ron's arm falling comfortably around her shoulders.

"No, I slept in," he lied, placing his cloak and cap carefully on a nearby stool.

Harry tried very hard to ignore how his heart clanged in his chest when he realized he had a view of Ginny from where he stood. The distance offered a buffer, an excuse to look at Ginny while her focus was diverted. Her full attention, as much as he craved it, burned like a spotlight, as if looking back would be too intense. She was laughing at whatever exchange Neville and Luna were having, and he suddenly wished he had been the one to make her laugh.

What was she doing here? Why wasn't she coming over? Was she avoiding him?

"Got you a pint," Ron said.

Questions burned inside him, but Harry dragged his eyes away from Ginny and accepted the chilled glass gratefully. He willed himself to focus on his best mate. Since Ron left the Aurors to help George with the shop, Harry never seemed to see him nearly as much, especially now that he had moved in with Hermione. The flat wasn't as enjoyable without Ron, and without Ron, there wasn't as much reason for Hermione to stop by constantly.

"Neville said you took on yet another one of those overnight stakeouts. What are you still doing, taking those shite shifts?" Ron asked.

"Can't have them thinking this promotion is getting to my head," Harry said, conveniently excluding how he had volunteered. His eyes darted to Ginny before focusing again on his friends.

Ron and Hermione shared a look.

"You've been working an awful lot, Harry," Hermione said.

"There's a new important case," Harry said, taking a long drink.

"They're always important," she pointed out. "Harry, you know that it doesn't all fall on your shoulders…"

Harry swallowed hard, shrugging. The new potential promotion had started up those "Boy Who Lived" nepotism whispers around the office again. Neville was great, but it wasn't the same as having Ron there.

"Mum missed you the last few Sundays," Ron said.

"It wasn't just work," Harry blurted out stupidly. He felt a jolt in his stomach, but he couldn't say that he had trouble going over to the Weasleys' after shagging their precious daughter. He took another drag of his drink.

"Were you on a date?" Hermione asked, eyebrows lifted.

Harry choked and sputtered. "No!"

"It's not such an outlandish idea. You haven't really gone out since Diane."

He left out a frustrated sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Yes, well we know how well that went."

He had not been interested in dating after the war. It wasn't until two years after that he even went on a date or two, but time had not magically improved his abilities with women. Dates always went awry. They were too in awe, came on too strong, or...well, they could be perfectly fine, really, but he simply couldn't sustain his interest. Not that they seemed to find him any better. They would complain about the hours he put into work (sorry if he would rather find a missing kid than go to some concert for some popular musician he didn't know of), the fact that Ron and Hermione were always there, usually accumulating to some loud accusation about how emotionally unavailable he was. Then when the press caught wind of his dating, splashing it all over the front pages, finding someone decent to keep him company when Ron and Hermione had their alone time all the harder.

Even Harry had started to wonder after two more years of disastrous dates if he was hopeless. If he couldn't help but prefer those few, stolen moments at the Burrow laughing until his sides hurt with a particularly sassy Weasley.

Then, when working on a case that required interoffice collaboration, he had met Diane, an Unspeakable very much dedicated to her work. A pretty brunette who was known to make a scathing remark now and again, unlike many of the other women he had dated. He had tried. Really, really tried. He researched and took her on proper dates (not just the pub), brought her flowers, remembered important dates, tried to make time. They stayed over at each other's place now and again.

It was...nice.

His eyes strayed past Ron's shoulder once again to Ginny, who looked impossibly effervescent. They flickered back to his now empty glass.

But it wasn't right.

"It worked for a while," Hermione said encouragingly. "I'm sure if you put yourself out there again —"

"I'm going to get a refill," Harry said. "Shall I get you something?"

"Yeah, thanks mate." Ron smiled at him, pulling Hermione closer, who seemed to let the topic go despite the conflicted, concerned look on her face.

"I'm fine, Hermione," Harry said with a fond smile.

He headed over to the bar and greeted Hannah, who promptly filled several new glasses. Three drinks balanced in his hands, Harry turned to survey the room. Unable to hold back, he glanced over to where Ginny was. Except she wasn't there anymore. Alarm rang through him as he looked around for the tell-tale long mane of fiery hair, but he couldn't find her anywhere.

Did she leave without saying anything? Was this how it was going to be from now on? Awkward avoidance? Loneliness?

He nearly jumped out of his skin when a shoulder brushed up against his.

"I was wondering if you were going to say hi."

The sound of her voice, so close to his ear, sent heat coursing through him like wildfire. But it was immediately doused by the cold liquid down his front.

"Shite!" he swore, fumbling to prevent further frothy Butterbeer spillage.

Ginny's laughter beside him didn't help, but he was grateful for an excuse for how flushed he must look.

"Didn't mean to take you by surprise," she said, casting a quick Scourgify.

"Thanks," he mumbled, daring to finally really look at her. She was leaning against the bar, her hair spilling over her shoulder, catching the light. Her eyes bright with mirth, she bit down on her lightly stained lower lip, trying to suppress her laughter, her face a pleasant rosy glow.

"So?" she asked, arching a perfect eyebrow.

"What?" he asked stupidly, afraid she had caught him staring at her lips.

"Were you going to say hi?" The hesitancy in her smile didn't match the playfulness in her voice.

"Yeah," he said forcefully, and something flickered in her eyes. "Yes, I was."

"Good." Her stance relaxed. "Ron and Hermione weren't sure you'd pull yourself away from work to show up. Something about another stakeout?"

Had she come knowing he might be here?

"Would have done a better job of getting here on time if I had known a rising Quidditch star would be gracing us with her presence."

Her low throated laugh sent tingles of pleasure down his spine.

"Didn't realize I was so special." Her eyes danced with warmth.

Believe me, you are.

"Hi, Ginny! You two need anything else?" Hannah appeared, her cheeks ruddy from running about filling orders.

"I'll have another of the house red," said Ginny.

"I need a new drink. Er — actually, make it a Firewhiskey instead," he said on impulse, needing something to dull his nerves.

Hannah blinked but smiled. "Sure thing."

"Get him the good stuff," Ginny said, leaning closer. Harry swallowed hard, getting far too appealing of a view of her assets.

Hannah laughed and nodded, heading to the storage room.

"Having a hard night?" Ginny asked.

Harry cleared his throat roughly. "Something like that."

"Nothing too bad, I hope?" She peered at him, a seriousness in her eyes that put him at ease. She understood without him having to explain the pressure of being the Chosen One. If things went awry, he always took it harder than the rest.

"No, nothing too bad," he said with a smile.

"I'm glad." She placed her hand on his arm and gave him a comforting squeeze.

His chest tightened. Ginny seemed like her usual self. In a way, he was grateful. It was as if nothing had happened between them. But was that what he wanted?

"When did you get back?" Harry asked as casually as he could.

"Tuesday. I had dinner with Ron and Hermione the other night," she said.

He swallowed back the urge to ask why anyone (Ginny) hadn't told him. Not that she would ever alert him to when she was in town, which was inconsistent and varied a lot depending on the Harpies' schedule. So really, it wasn't strange that no one (Ginny) hadn't said anything to him.

Because they were just friends.

"The team came back to wrap up some publicity events. I reckoned the little time I had in-between I would give my dear brother and future sister a visit. Help out as the maid of honor."

As the best man, Harry would see more of her, wouldn't he? Did that mean she would be in town often? Did it matter? Ginny had made that abundantly clear when Harry had tried to ask to see her again last time that anything more than platonic was out of the question.

Ginny's face brightened when Hannah came back holding a glass of Blishen's Firewhisky, its contents giving off a fiery glow. "Thanks Hannah!"

They started weaving through the crowd again, heading back to Ron and Hermione. He watched her long red hair dancing behind her.

"There you are," Ron said as they approached. "What took you?"

"Harry had a bit of an accident," Ginny answered with a cheeky grin. "Couldn't contain his excitement at seeing a famous Quidditch player."

Harry reddened under the insinuation, glancing at Ron. Did he know?

Ron scoffed. "I bet you snuck up on him. She was always doing that. Anything to get a rise out of us." He shrugged. "Little sisters."

Harry banged his knee against the table as a jolt of fear ran through him, the drinks on the table jostling noisily. Steadying the glasses, Hermione gave him a curious look.

"Sorry," he mumbled, wondering why he chose to get out of bed today.

"I thought Aurors were agile and couldn't be snuck up on," Ginny said.

"Maybe if Harry weren't practically dead on his feet," Hermione said.

"I think you need to loosen up, mate. You don't fall asleep in the office still, do you?" Ron frowned.

Harry flushed. "I'm fine."

"Careful or you're going to end up like Harry," Ron said, looking at Ginny. "You fell asleep on the couch right after dinner the other night."

Harry hadn't noticed the darkness under her eyes or how tense her body was until then.

"I'm fine." She rubbed her forehead, her brow furrowing.

"You two." Hermione shook her head.

"Hermione's all about work, but even she fits in some play." Ron bumped hips with his fiance, who blushed.

"Not all of us are so lucky," Harry said dryly.

But Ron and Hermione seemed to be sending each other not so subtle glances and smiles, still clearly basking in their recent engagement glow. Ginny's eyes slid over and met Harry's over the rim on her glass, both of them holding back their amusement.

"I suppose we're two hopeless cases," Ginny agreed.

"I guess so."

"At least we can keep each other company," she said, lightly bumping his shoulder against his.

Warmth spread in his chest.

She glanced down at his untouched drink. "Are you going to try it?"

"Oh. Uh, yeah." His mouth went dry at the look in her eye. He tipped the glass to his lips. He welcomed the burning sensation down his throat and pooled into his stomach.

"Easy there," Ron said when Harry coughed.

"I'm trying to loosen up." Harry swiped at his mouth.

"How is it?" Ginny asked.

"Good. Do you, uh, want a taste?" he heard himself ask. "Apparently we both need to relax."

Merlin, was he flirting? He wondered if his face looked as hot as it felt. At least he could blame the drink.

"Sure."

He swallowed hard and as he slid the glass over to her.

"Thanks."

Harry watched, mesmerized, as she tipped the glass back, the amber liquid swirling. She closed her eyes, savoring the taste. His breath caught in his throat when she opened them, a blazing look in her eyes.

"Thanks for the recommendation."

"What are friends for?" Ginny asked, holding his gaze as she held out the glass to him. Desire curled up in his stomach.

He reached over, feeling his heart skip a beat when his fingers brushed against hers.

"Drinking isn't a solution," Ron said, leaning in to kiss Hermione.

Harry barely heard him, however, as Ginny pushed away from the table.

"I need a bit of a reprieve from this," she said, gesturing toward Ron and Hermione.

"Be sure to say goodbye before you go," Ron said.

Harry tracked Ginny as she made her way toward the loo. She tossed her hair over her shoulder and she glanced back, her gaze lingering on him for a beat longer than necessary. Arousal shot through him.

Was that — was she —?

"…okay, Harry?"

"Hmm?" Harry blinked. "Oh, er, yeah. Sure."

Ron raised an eyebrow and Harry reddened, grateful as always that Ron couldn't perform Legilimency.

"I didn't think you'd agree so easily."

"Yeah, thanks," Harry said absently, taking another drink from his glass, appreciating the excuse for his flushed appearance and the thumping courage in his veins.

Hermione started talking about some topic at work, the latest law she was trying to get pushed through in support of house-elves. Harry feigned interest, but the entire time he was on pins and needles, wondering if he had imagined Ginny's suggestive look out of wishfulness. Maybe she really was going to the loo.

"Harry." Hermione was giving him a strange look.

"Hm?" Harry straightened guiltily.

"You're bouncing all over the place."

"Oh — sorry." On impulse, Harry finished his drink, the burning sensation invigorating him. "I'll be back. I, uh, spilled a drink earlier at the bar and need to…"

He made a gesture toward his clothes.

"Okay," Ron said, bemused.

As slowly as he could will himself to move, Harry maneuvered through the crowd, following the direction where Ginny had disappeared.

It had been a one-time (two-time) thing, and that was it, right? He ran his hand through his hair nervously. The banter was just that, right? Not real flirting despite the double entendres he kept hearing. He was probably wishfully imagining things.

His heart sank at the empty corridor.

He had gotten it wrong. He had seen things that weren't there —

A door he hadn't noticed opened, and a hand shot out to pull him into a small, enclosed space. By instinct, Harry pressed the person against the wall, his wand out.

"So you really are an Auror," Ginny said, raising her hands.

"Ginny! Sorry!" Harry hastily withdrew his wand. With only the slight slivers of light from the door's cracks, he could make out the outline of her face. It was rather close, given the tight quarters. "This is a…"

"Broom cupboard, yeah," Ginny confirmed with a hint of pride.

Suddenly all those daydreams from sixth year of being in a cramped cupboard with her, her hands in his hair, his mouth roaming her skin rushed to him. Of course, those dreams hadn't included the rush of noise outside or the various brooms and cleaning supplies, but they also couldn't hold a candle to the heat radiating from her and the smell of her sweet hair all around him.

"The two of us sound pretty hopeless." Her hand touched his chest and slowly trailed downward. "So I thought…"

His heart hitched at her words, the alcohol and situation making his head spin lightly.

"I thought last time — maybe should we talk?"

Ginny stepped closer and pressed up against him. His knees bumped against something. All coherent thoughts vanished as he tumbled onto the low bookshelf stocked with what seemed to be cleaning supplies behind him, bringing Ginny down with him.

"We could," she murmured into his ear. She leaned into him and brushed her lips against his neck. "Or we could…use our mouths another way."

"Ginny," Harry said, his voice strangled. "Sorry —!"

He began to pull her away, but she moved closer. Her fingers ran through in his hair to knead the knot in his neck from holding the same position for hours during the stakeout. He groaned in pleasure.

"I want this," she said, the dim light flickering in her dark eyes. "I want you to make me feel better. What do you want, Harry?"

The edge of his desire was sharpened by the desperate voice in his head.

Last time wasn't the end.

"This. I want this," Harry confessed, giving in. It felt too good to be true. The past three weeks of misery were like nothing compared to the possibility of being with her again.

Ginny made a sound of approval as she pulled his collar toward her. Her kiss was hot and demanding, and Harry was more than willing to give. He gripped her tightly, the pressure of her against him maddening. At the annoying press of his glasses against his nose, he pulled away to remove them.

She leaned him further into the tight quarters, his shoulders banging lightly against what appeared to be a mop handle. But all he could focus on was the thrill as he tasted the bittersweet taste and heat of the wine that clung to her lips and tongue. The mixture of it and Ginny made his mind go fuzzy.

His fingers, which seemed to have a life of their own, delved daringly under her jumper, trailing up her warm, soft skin. At her sigh, he reached up further, inside her bra, and cupped her breast. He rubbed her nipple, feeling it stiffen under his touch. He never wanted to stop touching her.

Her hands reached down, tackling his belt. Harry moaned, his other hand moving up her skirt to find her gloriously wet. He distracted her by slipping his fingers over her clit. His chest ached when she jerked and strained against his hand. He pulled her closer, and the pad of his thumb continued to rub against her while slowly sliding a finger into her. She bit down on her lip as he found a pace that made her arch toward him.

Holding back her cries only seemed to intensify the look on her face. Harry swelled with awe when she trembled at his touch.

When Ginny opened her eyes, her blazing look took his breath away.

Her lips curled up triumphantly as she freed him from his trousers, wrapping her hand around him like a dare. He made a noise, still not really believing she was here. As if she heard this thought, she drew him close, kissing him, the noises erupting from her throat vibrating against him.

"Harry," Ginny mumbled against his lips. The sound of his name in that voice shot straight to his groin.

He wanted her to say it again and again.

"Inside," she said. "I want you inside me."

He whimpered, skimming his lips against her exposed neck.

"Contraception charm?" he had enough mental capacity to pant out as she pushed away his hand.

She shook her head. "Already done."

A thrill of hope shuddered through him. Maybe she had wanted this as much as he had.

But then Ginny was straddling him, and he simply couldn't breathe. She looked so glorious, the dim light shining around her hair like a halo, heat radiating off her. Watching him, she guided him inside her. Garbled nonsense fell from his lips as he was consumed by her hot tightness around him.

Tantalizingly slowly, she took all of him deep inside her, a sound escaping from her throat. Every nerve in his body on fire with the heat that coursed through him.

Harry had tried so hard the past few weeks to bury the memories of touching her, being touched by her, the feel of her around him, that the last time surged forth like a broken fuse, elevating all the pleasure at the moment.

Not the end, not the end, his mind chanted as Ginny shifted her hips and rode him.

Harry's heart swelled. Whatever this was hadn't been just the one (two) times — whatever this was, this mind-numbing miracle (that she could want him half as much as he craved her) made him choke with emotion.

Her breath was hot against his ear, matching his heavy pants, the sound amplified in the small space. She set the pace, alternating from agonizingly slow to shallow and quick, teasing and torturing him to no end. He pushed up her jumper and bra, exposing her breasts for him to kiss.

Ginny threw her head back, allowing him greater access. He reached between them, fumbling until he heard the hitch in her breath. He clenched his jaw and focused on her, wanting to be able to hear the build-up of her pleasure, wanting her to feel how good she made him feel.

His throat narrowed when her hand cradled his head against her shoulder in a way that could almost seem tender.

"Oh," Ginny gasped, her entire body tensing. The drumming pressure and pleasure building at the base of his back were becoming too much. When she clenched tightly around him, he gritted his teeth to maintain his control, trying to focus on her nails digging into his shoulders, desperate to make this fleeting moment last.

Suddenly the fevered fantasies of his sixth year surged forth: clenching himself in his hand, dreaming, wishing it were her hand, or that he was sliding in and out of her — then the hollow ache of coming back to reality, knowing she wasn't really there. That she didn't really want him.

"Ginny," Harry breathed, his voice strangled.

His hand reached for her, cupping her flushed face, but it was something inside him that was searching for her in the darkness. He needed proof that this was real, that he wouldn't wake up by himself in his room, alone like always.

Not the end.

"Harry!" Ginny cried as he thrust up into her, her legs locking him close, forcing him deep. She kissed him, her soft lips pressed hard against his, her tongue sliding over them. By instinct, he parted his lips and her tongue slipped in, hot and sweet.

He lost himself in her, let her body hold him, let himself believe for a moment that he's come this far since sixth year, from those days of watching her joke and laugh and fly from the corner of his eye, wondering if there was the faintest, slimmest, wildest chance that maybe, possibly, one day, she could want him too.

None of his fantasies came even remotely close to the real thing.

He held her close, trying to catch his breath and steady his heart. Harry slumped against the wall, completely relaxed. Her comfortable warmth against him kept him floating off. Finally, he opened his eyes to see Ginny grinning in such a mischievous way that he couldn't help but grin back.

"Well, I feel much, much better." Her soft laughter rumbled against him, her fingers splayed lazily against his chest.

His hand went up to cover hers.

"Me too."

Harry felt the weight of her gaze, wishing he could make out more of her face.

She closed the distance between them, her warm lips lingering gently against his. A nearly painful pressure built up in his chest. When he moved to deepen the kiss, she moved away. He hissed slightly as she pulled herself off him, the sensitivity overwhelming him. Longing surged up in him when she took her warmth with her.

"Better get out of here before someone notices how long we've disappeared."

Harry made a reluctant noise of acknowledgment, a sliver of fear creeping into his chest at the thought of Ron knowing what had transpired. His fingers itched to trail up her leg as she stood in front of him, adjusting her skirt and tidying up with a spell. He resisted by casting his own cleaning spell and Accio for his glasses, which had clattered to the floor at some point.

"I'll go first. Give me a head start?" Ginny reached for the handle, but her hand hovered mid-air. She glanced back at him, and he flushed, suddenly grateful for the dark. "Maybe we can do this again?"

"Yeah," he said, hearing the surprise in his voice.

Harry caught a glimpse of her lips curved upwards as she exited.

His head fell back, thumping against the wall, knocking over a mop. Dazed, he raised his hand to his tingling lips, where a stupid smile was spreading across his face.

Whatever this was, at least it wasn't over.