31 March 2002

Easter celebration was in full swing at the Burrow. Ron lounged on the sofa, lazily watching various members of his family talk and laugh together, feeling quite full. Dinner had been delicious. His mum had truly outdone herself tonight, Ron couldn't help but think.

But just when he was contemplating going back to the kitchen for another slice of pie, George caught his eye. And it was like his brother was shouting in his ear: What the hell, Ron? Just tell them! Ron couldn't exactly blame him. They'd decided after Harry had left that Ron would be the one to tell them, but keeping it secret was hard on George. He had taken to avoiding Fred, afraid that his twin would somehow pluck the secret out of midair.

It was hard for Ron not to talk, too. All throughout dinner he kept thinking that two people were missing from the table. This was normal, though. What was unusual was the fact that both Harry and Ginny would be back… they'd finally be here, fully. Tell them for me, Ron. When I see them, I want them to already know.

When.

Maybe this time next year, Harry would be here too. Ron could almost see him sitting on the sofa, mocking him when Ron said something to annoy Hermione, or thanking Ron's mum profusely for dinner, and patiently answering all of Ron's dad's questions about Muggle stuff. And he'd be laughing right along with Ron at the way Percy was so pompously explaining how important his job was, and how he was on the track for a stellar career.

"And Melinda Wilkins – the Senior Undersecretary for the Chief Mugwump of the Wizengamot, you know – said that I—"

"Harry told me what happened at Malfoy Manor," Ron blurted out.

Silence fell so abruptly that it was like all the words were sucked out of the Burrow, fleeing into the night. Percy stopped talking, but forgot to close his mouth. Ron felt sort of bad for just blurting it out like that, but how else was he supposed to do it? Hermione, beside him, stroked his arm, giving him strength.

"Excellent timing, Ron," George said. His casual words belied the serious expression on his face.

Ron glanced at his mum, and then at his dad. Their faces were frozen and unreadable. It was going to take some tricky work to not reveal exactly why Harry had come to them. Ron took a deep breath.

"Start at the beginning," Hermione suggested softly.

"Well, you know how Harry is," he said. "He blames himself for everything, you know."

Fred took advantage of his pause. "Yeah, we know that Harry's got issues with guilt. He hasn't come around here, has he?"

"Fred, be quiet," his mum murmured.

"Trouble was, Voldemort knew it too," Ron said, as if neither of them had spoken. "Everything happened to Ginny because Voldemort wanted to completely fuck with Harry's head -- using that mental connection they had--"

"Apparently, Harry saw almost everything," Hermione said in a soft voice. "Forced to watch it--"

"And then Voldemort told Harry that if Harry let Voldemort kill him, he'd let Ginny go," Ron added. It infuriated him as much to retell it as it had when he'd first heard it. He paused, and glanced at his dad again. "You know, all these years, I've thought that Harry was completely mental and I didn't understand why or how he could possibly blame himself. But it was sort of like with Ginny and you, Dad--"

His mother moaned. "They did use the Imperius Curse on him?" she said, eyes wide with horror. "Ever since Ginny told us the truth, I've been certain that he was forced to -- that they--"

"No!" Ron said sharply. "That wasn't what I meant. I thought that too, though," he added, glad to know that he'd not been the only one. "But that's why he killed the Death Eaters. No, I meant that Ginny's -- well, that her issues with Dad are pretty understandable. Not that it's Dad's fault--"

"Enough, Ron," his dad said harshly. "Get to the point."

"Er -- right," Ron swallowed. But the sudden anger and hurt on his dad's face made it hard to think.

"Harry took Voldemort up on his offer," George piped up.

"What?" Fred turned and gaped at him. "You knew? And you didn't tell me?"

"I was there when Harry came," George said quietly. "It wasn't pretty, Fred."

For almost an entire minute, the only sound was the crackling of the fire. Ron avoided the eyes of his family. For the first time, he actually considered whether or not the rest of his family would think about what happened the way Ron did. His dad was not in the best place. What if they saw things the way Harry saw them? Not all of them, Ron knew. With a start, he realized that his palms were sweating and his heart was thumping, and he fully understood why Harry wanted Ron to do this.

"Dad, Harry was a Horcrux," Ron said.

"A Horcrux?" Percy adjusted his glasses; he was the first to recover. "How is that even possible?"

"What do you mean he was a--?"

"So... that means he...?"

Hermione held up her hand. "It happened when he first got hit with the Killing Curse, when he was a baby."

She told them everything (except Harry and Ginny's relationship now); Ron was grateful that he didn't have to say it, but was able to watch their faces. Bill and Percy were simply shocked, and didn't seem to know what to say. Fleur's eyes were wide and horrified. His mum had her hand over her mouth, and her brow was furrowed, as though she didn't quite understand. Hermione's voice seemed to echo around the room: He meant to die for her. And Ron saw it reflected in the faces of his family.

Except for his dad. The expression on his face was completely unreadable. Instead of the sympathy and understanding and even awe that Ron felt, his dad's face was blank. Don't blame him, Dad, Ron wanted to say. And six months ago, Ron knew that his dad wouldn't even think about it. But the truth about what had been done to Ginny had been a huge blow; one that Ron could scarcely comprehend.

Everyone had a flurry of questions. Ron let Hermione answer them. And even when his dad left the room, slipping out the door with no one but Ron noticing, Ron kept his eye on where his dad had stood, wondering if it had been too soon to hope that Harry would be able to come home.

HPHPHPHPHPHP

01 April 2002

"Thank Merlin you're awake," Harry said in a voice thick with sleep and desire.

In truth, Ginny hadn't been that awake, but the sound of his voice and the feel of him rubbing against her brought her out of sleep. "This is the best way to wake up," she said. He had one hand on her belly, and the other cushioned her head, and their bodies fit together like spoons.

His fingertips stroked her belly, tracing unknown patterns on her skin, and then moved up to the undersides of her breasts. Ginny took a deep breath and arched back. He moaned against the side of her neck, and pushed his erection against her, playing with her nipples until they hardened.

This would be the fourth time they'd made love. Easter Sunday had basically been spent getting to know each other's bodies, and the thought of it further inflamed her. Especially the last time, when Harry had wrapped himself around her right after she finished her shower and stepped out of his small bathroom. He'd mentioned something about imagining her in there, wet and naked, and he'd kissed her so wildly that she'd pulled him down to the floor.

It was Harry's whole-hearted enthusiasm for sex that made things easier, Ginny knew. There was this look on his face right before he finished inside her: eyes wide, cheeks flushed, lips parted, and looking at her with a sort of awe, as though she'd done something wonderful. And she really liked how his penis and his hands and his mouth made her body feel, but Ginny had lost count of how many times Harry had expressed how amazing it felt for him, and that was just as good as her orgasms.

Strange but true.

Harry interrupted her thoughts by sliding his hand down her body, gripping her knee, and lifting it, opening her.

"You're wet already," he said, sounding surprised.

"Mm hmm," she murmured. "I've been -- I've been thinking about you." She gasped when two of his fingers found her opening and pushed inside.

At the same time, he pressed a kiss to her shoulder. "I love that I can make you wet," he said smugly. Ginny tried to laugh -- he sounded so pleased with himself -- but it came out as a gasp when his thumb rubbed her clitoris. "And make that sound," he added, rubbing himself more insistently against her bum. "Ginny -- can we, like this?" To make his point clear, he stopped stroking her and reached between their bodies and adjusted himself, until his penis was right up against her.

"Mm hmm," she said again, wiggling.

Harry slid up inside her, groaning. She pushed back automatically, reaching down for his hand and squeezing it. "This feels incredible," he whispered. He began gently, as he always did, small thrusts that pushed him deeper and deeper.

And it felt really good, and judging by Harry's moans and increased speed (both with talking and thrusting), he felt really good too. But Ginny just couldn't get there. Her stomach quivered, her back arched, and she couldn't help but cry out when he lifted her leg higher, but it was as though she had come to a plateau, and she just... couldn't... orgasm.

She missed the feel of his chest on hers. Ginny wanted to wrap her arms around him tightly, like she had before, but even though she gripped his hand with both of hers, it wasn't enough. The heavy weight of his body wasn't on her, they weren'tclose enough, even with his penis inside her.

"Ginny -- I can't," he muttered, panting. "I have to -- this is wow, and I -- I'm going to--"

"It's okay," she said, squirming, helping him. "It's okay. Let go." She twisted her head so she could watch his face; he pumped into her twice more and then she felt him finish. His arms convulsed around her, and he pressed a hot kiss on her lips.

"I love you," he said. "But I can't just--"

Instead of finishing his sentence, he slipped out of her and pulled her on to her back. "My favorite part," he murmured. "Is knowing you had your pleasure." He paused, considering. "Though mine really does come a close second, I have to admit."

But his mouth closed over her nipple, and she was too distracted to answer him.

He spent some time with each breast, but soon enough he was kissing his way down, swirling his tongue in her navel and moving further. Then, suddenly, his head popped up, and he eyed her strangely.

"Am I supposed to do this?" he asked.

"I hope so," she said before she could stop herself.

A satisfied grin flickered over his face before his brow furrowed. "I just -- the book didn't say -- and what if I--"

Ginny firmly cut off his babbling. "What's going on? And what book?"

"Well," he hedged. "I'm going to -- with my mouth -- but I just finished there. And my -- it'll still be there."

Her face abruptly felt very hot. There were spells for this sort of thing, her brothers used to laugh about them when they thought she wasn't listening. "Haven't you ever--?" she whispered, mortified. And she was completely unprepared to ask him if he'd ever wanked before, and needed to clean up. So instead she made a gesture with her hand, which was even worse, she discovered too late.

And then she remembered he'd done this particular spell before at least once, after she'd used her hands on him. "You knowthere's a spell," she said accusingly.

"Yeah, but -- it'll work there?"

Something in her eyes must have told him to abandon this line of questioning, for he rolled over and fumbled for the wand on his nightstand. He muttered a spell that Ginny knew all boys learned around the age of thirteen; she felt a certain warmth, and then he was back.

"What's this book?" she asked.

He pretended like he hadn't heard her. "Where was I?"

"Telling me about the book," she pressed.

"It's just a book," he said evasively. And then he gave her a long, slow lick, effectively flipping a switch in her brain, and the part of her that could conduct a successful interrogation was turned off.

I'll ask him later.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHP

05 April 2002

It was Friday before Ginny finally cornered him and forced him to tell her about the book.

Harry glanced around the Quidditch pitch. They'd just landed, and were now planning to visit Hagrid, and it simply wasn't possible to employ the methods of distraction he had grown quite fond of in the last several days. Even now, walking beside her and too far away to touch, his body had a pleased, happy feeling.

He looked down at her. The sun shone in her face, but he could tell that her smile was sly and her eyes glinted with mischief. Harry often thought that her natural temperament was most like the twins. "What book?" he asked, trying to sound as innocent as he could. It's not that he didn't want to tell her (at this point, he was only mildly embarrassed about it), but they'd made sort of a game of it.

She widened her eyes at him and turned around, facing him, walking backward through the tall grass of the shortcut to Hagrid's hut. "I don't know, Harry, that's what you're supposed to tell me," she said.

"I've no idea what you're talking about," Harry lied, grinning at her.

Calliope chose that moment to attempt to escape, leaping from her bag and rolling around in the grass. Arnold started peeping excitedly, wanting to join the fun as well. Harry dropped his Firebolt and reached out for the pygmy puff. His fingers brushed her soft fur before she hopped away. He narrowed his eyes at her. "So that's the way of it, is it?" he asked. Calliope twittered and leapt away. It took far longer than Harry had expected. "So much for my Seeking skills," said Harry, to Ginny's great amusement. Her laughter rang in his ears, and by the time he finally captured the pygmy puff, he was on his hands and knees and covered in dirt and grass.

"Why didn't you just summon her?" Ginny asked, giggling as he brushed off his robes.

"That would've been cheating," Harry said easily. Plus, it had distracted her from her questions. His smile widened.

She'd retrieved his Firebolt from where he'd thrown it, and was now passing both it and her Nimbus 2121 back and forth from hand to hand. Something told him that she hadn't been distracted at all. "What if I told you I wouldn't give this back until you told me about the book?" she asked smugly. "And you can't summon it, that would be cheating," she added in a sing-song voice.

"I'd buy a new one," Harry told her, just as smug.

"Hmm," she said, tapping her chin. "What if I held your cloak, and the Marauder's Map for ransom? Would you tell me then?"

Harry pursed his lips, pretending to think. "No-o," he said slowly. They'd resumed walking, but she still went backward, so she could keep her eyes on him. He looked over her shoulder, making sure there weren't any obstacles in her path that she couldn't see. "I've already lived without those," he said. "I can do it again."

"What if I stole all the things Hermione just gave back to you?"

That was an easy answer. The owl from Hermione returning all of the things he'd left behind had shocked him, and he'd enjoyed looking through it, seeing his old, broken wand and old clothes. "We might have to negotiate with the photograph album," he admitted. "But," he added hurriedly, because she looked entirely too happy with herself for finding his weak point, "I could always just steal them back from you."

"Let me get this straight," she said. "I could take your broom, your family heirlooms, possibly even the clothes on your back, and you still wouldn't tell me about the book? You know that just makes me want to know more," she told him devilishly. "I may have to resort to drastic measures."

Harry thought he knew what was coming, and he felt a tingle of anticipation. He was very glad that it was still Easter break, and they were quite alone on the grounds. Though they weren't touching, and actually had a respectable distance between them, Harry was pretty sure that the look on his face -- and hers -- wasn't hiding anything. "Resort to drastic measures all you want," he said firmly.

"Mmm," she said. "What if I said that until you tell me about your book, I won't let you see me naked?"

Harry narrowed his eyes at her. "What about half-naked?" he asked, thinking that if it was the bottom half, he would hardly be limited at all.

"All clothes on," she told him.

"Oh, so you want to play mean," Harry said dramatically. "I would've thought that you'd take pity on me... I'm not a Weasley, you know. I haven't got extortion down to an art form." He knew it was time to give up his secret. She was teasing him, but he hadn't missed the fleeting vulnerability in her eyes. Now was the perfect time to end the game. "All right," he said, trying to sound pitiful. "The book is -- look out, there's a branch behind you," he warned her. She turned her head and maneuvered over it. "It's basically... everything I needed to know about sex," he said in a low voice.

She raised her eyebrows, but didn't say anything.

And despite how comfortable he felt with her, he actually felt a bit more flustered than he thought he would be. "I wanted to -- you know -- figure things out before... well, before," he said, ruffling his hair. "It helped," he shrugged. "I mean -- I had more of a clue what to do." He paused. "Sorry if you thought I was just naturally good," he added playfully.

The look on her face was so sly that Harry suddenly wished that they were heading back to the castle, back to his rooms, and back to bed, instead of off to have dinner with Hagrid. "It was very informative," she said, to his shock. Her face was bright red, but she appeared to be enjoying herself a great deal. "Especially the later chapters. With the moving illustrations."

Harry gaped at her.

She winked at him.

"How did you--?"

She finally turned around and walked the right way, marching down the hill, and giving him a knowing look over her shoulder. "I summoned it – you know, Accio book! -- the first time I was alone after you let it slip."

Harry threw back his head and laughed.

HPHPHPHPHPHP

07 April 2002 – 12 April 2002

It seemed fitting that Ginny's period started on Sunday, the day that all of the other students would return to Hogwarts. Dismay and embarrassment filled her. She was going to miss sex, damn it. It seemed unfair that they'd only just started having it a week ago, and now they had to stop for a little while.

And she couldn't just not tell him why she had to take a small break from their intimacies; he'd think she didn't want to sleep with him or that she'd changed her mind. Despite the fact that he'd mentioned it to her during their fight, Ginny got the feeling that he wouldn't know what she was talking about unless she spelled it out for him.

After dinner was served in the Great Hall, and they returned to Harry's rooms, Ginny gathered up her courage. "Harry, I know you want to… be intimate tonight," she said, face burning.

"You don't?" he asked. A guarded look came into his eyes, exactly what she'd worried about. Harry was making an effort, she knew, but she also knew that he was still pretty vulnerable. And Ginny was more than aware that it took longer than a day to change thought patterns that had been seared into one's brain.

"Well…" she hedged.

"If it's too much, you can tell me," he said earnestly. "Or – I suppose you are telling me," he added. "I know we've been doing it a lot, but… you know we don't have to. It just feels good, and I love being that close to you, and—"

"Harry," she interrupted. "It isn't that I don't want to, believe me," she said, with more emphasis than she'd really intended. "I can't. Physically." She silently willed him to understand.

It took him fifteen seconds to catch her meaning. "Oh," he said, sounding relieved and surprised. "Oh, that's…" his voice trailed off, and he looked down at Arnold, who was dancing for Calliope again.

"Do you want to play Exploding Snap?" Ginny offered.

The next few days passed quietly. It was almost as though they'd returned to the stage of their relationship before Ginny had touched him, except it was better. They were far more comfortable around each other, for one. One evening, Harry had even randomly brought up her family. He didn't tell her she ought to talk to them, of course.

But he told her stories she'd never heard before about how her brothers and parents had put their lives on the line to help others. Muggle families had been protected, the war effort had continued, and the Weasleys had been right at the center of it. Ginny had known about their involvement, of course, but not the specifics; her mother had tried so hard to keep the darker details from her ears.

And he didn't just tell her about the war, but also how much their support had meant to him. And how they'd made him feel a part of the family, and how he'd been less lonely. He didn't come right out and say how much he loved her family, but it was apparent to Ginny.

It had the desired effect, and she began composing actual conversations in her head for when she'd see them next time, whenever that would be.

Soon, thought Ginny.

The first week of resumed classes passed slowly, and with nothing out of the ordinary happening (except that Pollux Sennet seemed to be even more annoying than usual, but his attempts to find her alone were continually thwarted) and Ginny was inordinately delighted when Friday came. And not just because her period had ended, though that was a large part of her happiness. It was Friday, and she didn't have Quidditch practice, and the entire weekend was ahead of her.

And even though at breakfast in the Great Hall she was sort of haunted by the nagging feeling that she'd forgotten something, she was able to shake off the confusion as soon as Harry's class began.

But then she was haunted by something else.

"We're having another practical lesson," Harry announced to no one's surprise. He had never pretended to like lecturing. "Find a partner."

Ginny avoided Dennis Creevey's attempts to catch her eye, and paired up with Demelza.

"You're going to beat me dismally," Demelza said wryly. "I wish Emma hadn't accidentally poisoned herself in Potions."

"I'm not necessarily going to beat you," Ginny said, surprised.

Demelza rolled her eyes. "Oh, please," she said good-naturedly. "Everyone knows you're the best in the class."

"Before all of you have a go at each other," Harry said loudly, looking over at two Ravenclaw girls who hated each other, and always paired up in order to duel together. "I'm only making one condition – besides that you can't do any permanent damage to each other," he added hastily. "All of your spells have got to be non-verbal," he told them. "I don't want to hear anyone talking."

Ginny was barely able to listen to what he was saying. For sometime in the middle of his speech, it had hit Ginny that Harry was her professor. And even though she had a prior connection to him, and that he'd never acted like he had any sort of authority whatsoever over her (if anything, he acted as though the opposite was true, though their relationship was definitely that of two equals now), he was still her professor.

She mechanically went through the motions of dueling, keeping one eye surreptitiously on Harry all the while. He walked around the class, adjusting grips, and offering house points and compliments and instructions. And she couldn't help but think, as she listened to him admonish Casper Street for casting a spell out loud, that it was a wicked little secret they had.

A wicked, arousing little secret.

Ginny tried to turn her mind off and just duel, but Harry kept distracting her. Whenever he spoke, she remembered what he sounded like just before he finished inside her. And if she caught sight of him out of the corner of her eye, she thought about how he liked to cuddle after. And that he usually woke up hard, and he liked sex first thing in the morning.

And I'm the only one in class that knows all of this, Ginny thought.

Harry gave one of the Ravenclaw girls detention for a particularly nasty hex, and Ginny pictured him naked and erect.

"You all right, Ginny?" Demelza asked, sounding concerned.

"Oh," said Ginny. "I'm sort of… not feeling very well."

Harry chose that moment to join them. "You two seem to be doing well," he said. "I saw an excellent hex coming from you earlier, Demelza, but I was over on the other side of the room."

"I've only hit her twice," Demelza said. "And only because she isn't feeling well."

Harry glanced at her sharply. "Do you need the hospital wing?" he asked.

Ginny shook her head mutely, trying futilely to not think of his body entwined with hers. On his desk, the wicked little thought crossed her mind. Somehow, she managed not to blush. "Just a little stomach upset," she said flippantly.

Luckily, class ended soon after that.

Ginny lingered after the rest of the students had left – not that she didn't always, but this time she had something of import to tell him, and they had to be alone for it. She stifled a giggle behind her hand as the door swung shut behind Demelza.

"Are you really sick?" he asked, laying his palm over her forehead.

Ginny replied by reaching out and stroking his thigh, and was rewarded when he sucked in a breath. "I'm not sick at all," she said, blushing. "It's over. I can be with you again."

HPHPHPHPHPHP

12 April 2002

Ever since Ginny had told him she was ready to have sex again, Harry had to concentrate on not having an erection all day. Little thoughts (memories and fantasies combined) kept popping into his head at inopportune moments. While the fourth year students practiced disarming each other, Harry had to keep repressing how it had felt when she'd run her hand up his leg and said, blushing, that it was over. It had been a long five days.

Happy Friday, Harry thought as he walked to his office at the end of the day. He'd really missed being inside her -- her kisses were brilliant, and the cuddling was great. But while they kissed, she didn't hold him so tightly (in what he now thought of fondly as her death grip) that he felt like she was trying to turn them into one person. And when they cuddled, she didn't knead his back like a cat. He missed how she cried out when he was doing things right, and the--

"Knut for your thoughts?" Ginny asked, pushing herself away from the wall.

Harry grinned stupidly, grateful that they were alone in the corridor, because he was pretty certain that he wasn't hiding anything. "They're worth more than a knut," he said cheerfully. He didn't touch her until they were in his office and the door was firmly closed. And he was about to apologize for what was about to happen -- he was about to lose control. She was still close to the door -- she was locking it and putting up a Silencing Charm, good thinking -- and she was perfectly positioned. He could--

"Come here," she said roughly, flushing. Harry threw his cloak in the corner of the office. It just missed the hearth, and lighting on fire. She tugged his shirt, pulling him toward her. Harry bent his head and kissed her. To his relief, her kiss was just as hungry as his; and when he pushed her up against the door, she used his shoulders to move higher, until they were pressed intimately together. They moved their hips together.

Harry pulled his lips from hers; before she could protest, he flicked his tongue against her earlobe. At the same time, he brought his hand up, intending to undress her; he needed to see her breasts. But her robes -- she's wearing way too many clothes -- were twisted around her body, and he couldn't even find the opening, let alone get them off of her. "I wish you were wearing a skirt," he murmured against her neck.

"Mm hmm," she said, arching against him.

Harry ignored the problem for a few moments. He reached around and gripped her bum. "Have I told you how much I love your bum?" he asked, squeezing it gently. "Don't get me wrong," he said, dimly aware of what he was actually saying. "I love everything about you. Your bravery, your sense of humor, the way you understand me...." he moved his lips to her collarbone, delighted when she moaned and rolled her hips against his erection. "But your bum... it has a special place in my heart--"

He felt her laugh. "I know," she told him. "I caught you... looking at it... before Christmas break."

"It made me crash into a tree," he said blissfully. Her warm hands had found an opening in his shirt and stroked his chest the way he wanted to do to her. He shuddered under her touch. "At first I had no clue," he told her. "Had no idea until the next day in my shower that the... reason I crashed... was because your robes went up just right..."

She interrupted him, gripping his chin, and giving him a hot, open-mouthed kiss that inflamed him even more. "In the shower?" she asked breathlessly, pulling away. Harry looked at her, extremely pleased that her eyes were wide and dilated. "Does that mean that you -- that when you -- well, I mean, I've heard what men do in the shower sometimes -- you've thought about me?"

"Er--"

Suddenly, she looked mortified. "I didn't mean -- if you haven't, I don't mind--"

"A lot," Harry told her, rubbing himself against her even harder, just to prove his point.

"Really?"

Unbelievably, it seemed to arouse her further.

"Uh huh," he said. "And not just in the shower," he told her, unable to stop himself. "In the chair over there, right after... do you remember when you showed me the charm? I couldn't concentrate... and then... right after you left..."

She kissed him then, fiercely. I'll have to tell her about all the other times, Harry thought dazedly. But then she reached around and grabbed his bum, pulling him tighter against her. And then, suddenly, it was imperative that he get those robes (and the rest of her clothes) off of her now--

"Harry, Harry, wait," she said, panting. Instead of pulling him closer, she was pushing him away. Confused, he stepped back -- it took only a second to miss the pressure, and ached to thrust against her, inside her.

"Can we--?" she bit her bottom lip, and gestured. Toward the desk.

"The desk?"

"Yes," she said. Her face was bright red, and her smile was a mixture of fleeting shyness, desire, and... naughtiness? His eyes widened. "Professor," she added.

The implications hit him, really hit him, then. He'd known all along that his relationship with her wouldn't exactly be condoned by the public. He didn't care what they thought, of course; Ginny was special. Their relationship wasn't tawdry; they were in love. But for an instant, he took a step back, and saw that even though they were in love, there was still the lure of the forbidden. He was a professor. And he was about to have sex with his student on his desk,

Harry hadn't thought he could get any harder, but suddenly it was almost painful.

He grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the desk. With his other hand, he undid his belt, opened his trousers, and let them fall to the floor, kicking them off completely. Then, on second thought, the memory of the handy spell he'd found in his book (one that would take care of Ginny's robes and clothes) flitted across his mind, and he grabbed his wand. It was a non-verbal spell, and he thought, with all his might, of getting her naked and--

To his dismay, instead of the clothes melting off of her and folding themselves neatly, they... turned into rags, formless and shapeless. Ginny gaped down at herself, clutching them. "The -- all the stitching is gone," she said, shocked.

But Harry could see her nipples, and the haze of desire closed over him once more. "I'll fix it, I swear," he promised rashly. "But not now. Please," he said. He was delighted when she nodded, and let the remnants of her clothing fall.

"Are you ready?" he asked softly.

"I've been thinking about it all day," she told him. "Professor."

Not much of one, he thought. He lifted her with one arm, and swept the papers off the desk with the other. Her bum had just barely met the edge of the desk, when he took himself in his hand and positioned the head of his penis at her entrance. He stroked up and down, shuddering when he felt how slick she was, how wet. For him. "I'm going inside you," he said. "Miss Weasley."

She whimpered and wrapped her arms and legs around him.

Groaning, Harry pushed himself inside her, inch by inch. "You're so hot," he said. Right away, he could tell that the angle of penetration was going to get him in trouble. He was already close. And he knew that he could use his mouth and tongue to give her her orgasm, but he loved the feeling of the walls of her vagina contracting around him, squeezing him, when she climaxed. And he wanted to hear her cries grow louder and louder every time he thrust inside her.

He held onto that thought by a thread and forced his own orgasm back. "You're going to have to finish fast," he told her. Her words (or his, he couldn't remember, not when his body felt like it was going to explode) that long ago December day, the afternoon after she'd first kissed him. Sometimes we'll have to pretend to be professor and student. His lips curled almost involuntarily in a smile. He'd never thought it would be during a time like this. "Consider it a... homework assignment... or a quiz," he said panting, and moving faster. His arms tightened around her, keeping her in a sitting position; he didn't want his thrusts to push her over.

"Yes, Professor," she moaned.

Her cries grew louder.

And suddenly it was too much. He couldn't keep squatting a little, and supporting all of her weight. So he leaned her back until she was laying on the desk, and he was laying on top of her. Her death grip was strong and getting stronger. "Finish for me," he said, almost begging. His control was slipping through his fingertips, pushed further away by her cries and the way she was clasped so tightly to him and her fingers kneading his back. "Ginny," he gasped, pumping into her.

She arched, and he could feel her nipples hard against his chest. "Harry!"

And then he felt it. She clenched around him, rippling around his penis. Two more thrusts, and his own orgasm overtook him. He buried his head in the crook of her neck and slowed his movements, groaning. By the time his orgasm ended, her grip had relaxed, and she stroked his hair. He couldn't even think straight for long minutes. "I didn't know it would be that... that..."

"Arousing? It hit me earlier while you were teaching," she admitted.

He snorted. The motion made him slip out of her. Still, he rested against her, lifting his head so he could press gentle kisses on her face. She caressed his back through his shirt. Harry wanted to keep holding onto her, but he was starting to get uncomfortable, bent almost double. Reluctantly, he pulled away, and stared down at the remains of her clothing. He'd promised he'd fix it for her, but he really had no clue how. He was just about to suggest he go grab his Invisibility Cloak and she could--

Someone rapped on the door.

Both of them froze, and a look of horror passed between them.

"Professor Potter."

It was Professor McGonagall's voice.

Ginny catapulted into action. Harry watched, disoriented, as Ginny gathered up her things.

"Get dressed," she hissed at him. A giggle exploded out of her, which further confused him. "I'll be back," she said.

Back from where?

Harry moved toward his trousers and stepped toward them.

Ginny grabbed the cloak he'd discarded, wrapped it around herself. In one smooth motion, she waved her wand -- the papers he'd knocked aside in his hurry to be inside of her flew back onto his desk -- and grabbed a handful of floo powder from the small jar on the mantle. "The Burrow!" she said, and instantly whirled away in green flames. Harry watched the flames die down.

The Burrow?

But he didn't have time to wonder what the hell was going on. There was another knock at the door.

Harry tucked his shirt into his trousers, grateful, for once, that he'd never actually cultivated a neat appearance, and opened the door, feeling completely unprepared for what might happen next. Did McGonagall know? Had they been found out?

McGonagall was not alone. Three Gryffindor second-years stood with her, looking both sheepish and defiant. She was not paying attention to Harry at all, to his great relief. "Er -- can I help you?" he asked.

"These three," she indicated Method, Barnett, and Powell, "have something to tell you."