Fleur would be going mad if she knew she was out of bed, rather than getting her beauty sleep before the big day. It had been the final instruction following Harry's birthday dinner.

"Get plenty of sleep."

But then she just had to go and kiss him didn't she. Her stupid idea for a birthday present. Yeah, so it had been a fun idea at the time to give him something to miss her by. But now it had come back to bite her on the arse. She'd done it for him, but she had only gone and made it worse for herself. It stung worse than that time she'd flown straight into the bare branches of their sycamore, and those scratches on her face had not been pretty.

The part of it that was frustrating her the most was that she hadn't been able to handle it. Hence the need for her current midnight wanderings around the Burrow while everyone else slept. Some sort of attempt to get a handle on it. She knew they were leaving so she would just have to accept it. The three of them had something planned, it was so plainly obvious to her, and now that Harry didn't have the trace on him anymore, they'd be buggering of the first chance they got.

She resigned herself to just keep on wandering the Burrow, talking herself round in circles, and hopefully, she would wear herself out so that she could finally get some sleep.

She was too lost in her own self-admonishment that she almost misses it the first time. A whispered "Ginny", just and so reaching her where she had paused on the staircase. She listens and there it is again. Definitely her name.

She follows the soft echo to the closest bathroom, on the landing above her, where she can see the faint glow of someone's lumos beneath the closed door. With her ear pressed up against the old wood, this time she hears a breathy "Ginny...Fuuck", and she definitely knows where she's heard that before.

She pushes the door open enough to slip quietly into the bathroom. When it clicks shut behind her, Harry looks up at the noise, surprised to see her standing there in the light of his wand as if, by praising her name, he had called her there.

"Oh, don't mind me," she grins wickedly. "You just carry on."

She glances down to where his right hand is curled around his cock, and pulls her lower lip into her mouth, remembering all the times she had made him fall apart in her own hands. As her teeth tease her lip, she hears Harry inhale a sharp breath and his hand begins to move again in slow but sure strokes.

He's supporting himself with his left hand braced against the counter, his plaid pyjama trousers pooled around his ankles. A risky move on his part considering he had not locked the door. She watches him for a moment, getting himself off to thoughts of her. The way his hand worked was mesmerising and it was easy for her to recall what else those strong fingers, currently curled around his cock, were so good at.

She ran her tongue over her lips at the thought and heard him take a sharp breath again. Pulling her eyes away from the show, she met the deep green rings of Harry's eyes, mostly obscured by the blackness of his dilated pupils.

Good, she smiled to herself, realising that he was watching her too.

She held his gaze, the intensity of it causing the pleasure between her legs to swell, and teasingly reached her hand down into the front of her cotton shorts. Leaning back against the door for support, she slid her fingers through her already wet folds and brought them back up to circle slowly over her clit. Around and around the sensitive bud of nerves that Harry knew could be played until she was keening a perfect tune.

When she dipped two of her fingers between her folds to wet them again, she saw Harry jerk slightly and a shiver of pleasure shot through her. She pumped her fingers once, twice, three times and brought them back out to rub her clit again, pinching a nipple between the fingers of her other hand as she did so.

She held Harry's gaze as she brought herself ever closer to her peak, aware of his own hand moving faster out of the corner of her eye. When his eyes begin to flutter closed and his lips part in silent ecstasy, she allows her own eyes to close, throwing her head back against the door, spine arching away from the wood as the movements of her fingers grow frantic.

Her breath is coming faster now, hot and insistent as her hips buck instinctively against her hand. A strangled moan sounds from the other side of the bathroom and her body responds to the noise, tensing in anticipation. She moves her fingers to thrust the final few times into her clenching heat, pressing the tip of her thumb firmly against her clit and gives her own strangled gasp.

The heat of her breath lingers in front of her face, prevented from going anywhere by the other presence in the room suddenly being so very near. She opens her eyes to see those green rings she knows so well flickering beneath dark lashes as they roam over the details of her face, memorising every freckle. They are so close that their shortened breaths are mingling between them. Their lips would be touching if they could stop panting for a second to purse them.

But she can't let that happen again. Not when he will be disappearing tomorrow. So, she turns the door handle behind her back and slips out of the bathroom, closing the door on those piercing eyes.

At least now she would be worn out enough to sleep.