*A HUGE thank you to Kai/Only For Signed Reviews for providing me with the solution to my editing/posting problems! THANK YOU!*

And thank you all for your lovely comments on the last chapter! From what I saw, quite a few of you appreciated Harry's Ginny moment. So what is a simple writer to do? She gives you more of the same ;)

You do realise this story could go on for like... forever? Love you for reading!

Chapter Thirteen – Ginny

Needless to say, Harry did not sleep much that night. To begin with, he spent some ten agonising minutes in the bathroom on the first floor – with his back to the cracked mirror so that his reflection would not taunt him – before he could work up the courage to even consider doing something about his most pressing problem. Sure, he'd wanked before, once in a while (just like any other average teenage boy), but he had never before had a reason for doing it. As in a real one. Of course, he had been curious and once in a while he had woken up hard for no particular reason at all – all natural stuff. But now...

Sirius' face danced before his eyes, the very detailed memory of every second of their admittedly not too long encounter on the landing outside Harry's bedroom, made his blood boil. And this time, anger was not involved in any way.

Never before had Harry had an image to toss to (this was not the moment for attempting to decide why neither Cho nor Ginny had done that for him). It made him feel almost dirty. Even so, it also eventually made him push down his pyjama bottoms and his boxers, and take himself in hand. This, the first step, was awfully difficult to take, but he found that the next ones followed easier. Leaning back against the black basin, Harry closed his eyes and surrendered to the flow of images that filled his mind. He relived the sensation of Sirius' hardness pressed against him again and again and again, until it almost hurt.

During the time it took him to find release, Harry learned that when it came to pure, primal desire, real life was infinitely much better than dreams.

He had no more than cleaned himself up before guilt and shame came crashing down on him. And yet... he could not help but wonder if Sirius had resorted to the same angst-filled activity – but, of course, with Harry's face dancing before his mind's inner eye. He quickly turned away from the mirror again, quite determinedly refusing to acknowledge his flushed cheeks, his glassy eyes and his ruffled hair. There really was nothing new about that last bit, but Sirius' hands had tangled in it, and Sirius had kissed him and Sirius had shoved his hard cock against Harry's and...

Oh, God...

To summarise, Harry was fucked. Well, not literately, but most definitely if you were talking figuratively.

With a deep breath, he turned back to the basin and kept his gaze trained on the taps in the form of open-mouthed serpents. Removing his glasses and balancing them precariously on the edge, he splashed his face with ice cold water, wishing it were morning and the perfectly appropriate time for a bone-chilling, blood-freezing, mind-numbing bath. Hogwarts was great for learning all about turning mice into kettles but they did not exactly offer classes on how to handle brought-back-to-life godfathers that seemed to want nothing more than to shag their godsons. The fact that this most probably was what Sirius was after opened up a whole new terrifying world to Harry. He was quite – quite – sure that the humble amount of snogging he'd managed to cram into his life in between Voldemort and homework was nothing compared to Sirius' wealth of experience in this particular area of life. Assuming, of course, that he did have a wealth of experience, but Harry did not very much doubt that. In fact, a small part of him would have been disappointed, even, to find out that he did not.

The resident chill in the bathroom eventually chased him upstairs again. It was not until he reached the abandoned second landing that he realised he'd been half entertaining a hope that Sirius would be waiting for him there, maybe with some kind of proposition... And so it was that when he sneaked into his bedroom, trying his best not to disturb Ron who was snoring softly, Harry was hopelessly torn between disappointment and relief. But indescribably grateful that he had to answer for his burning cheeks to no one.

o.O.o

The next morning brought something of a truce with regards to the weather. Heavy rainclouds hung low in the sky but there was an odd sort of bright light in the air, hinting, at least, at the idea of sunlight. It was with some reluctance that Harry trudged after Ron downstairs. A part of him desperately wanted to see Sirius while another part of him was fully convinced that never ever again leaving his bedroom was the best plan ever conceived of. They got no further than the hallway on the ground floor, however, before they came upon Hermione and a good part of the Weasley clan. They had all gathered around the large trunk Percy had brought back from The Burrow, as though it were a peculiar kind of Christmas tree.

"Oh, there you are! I was just about to go upstairs and wake you." Mrs Weasley's brown eyes darted anxiously between them, but Harry got the impression that she avoided to look directly at him. "Ronald, I need you to pack."

"Good morning to you, too..." muttered Ron under his breath. "I've nothing to pack, mum. Hermione's got all my stuff in that neat bag of hers." He pointed at her.

Hermione obligingly raised her beaded bag for scrutiny; they all looked ready to leave. For a moment, Mrs Weasley looked lost, obviously not ready to believe – witch, though she was – that something so small could hold anything more than a comb and... Harry was not exactly sure of what girls normally carried around in beaded bags. But then she collected herself and nodded.

"Very well..." she said absentmindedly, her attention already diverted. "George, love, are those your only pair of jeans?"

Harry saw no reason for why he should draw any unwanted attention to himself. He remained in his place behind Ron, trying his very best to avoid Ginny's eyes while his thoughts swirled. This is it, he told himself. Tell her you need to speak with her. Tell her you don't want to go out with her any more and then that's that, and you'll be free to figure out what this thing between you and Sirius is... But no matter how great that sounded in theory, Harry simply could not work up the courage to open his mouth and address her.

"We're leaving now?" Ron was asking. "Where is dad? And Percy? For that matter..."

"Your brother is at the Ministry," said Mrs Weasley, and where she once might have sounded proud at her son being summoned to work on a Sunday, she now looked almost disgusted. "Your father is at home at present but will be back soon to..." She trailed off, frowning at her only daughter, "Ginny, sweetheart, will you please..."

Harry never heard what Mrs Weasley wanted Ginny to do because just then the door to the dining room opened further down the hallway and Sirius appeared in the semi-darkness. Harry's heart skipped a beat when his godfather's eyes fell on him.

"Harry, would you come in here for a moment?" He spoke in a low voice that nevertheless managed to carry all the way to where Harry huddled behind Ron.

His throat gone suddenly dry, Harry did not trust his voice enough to answer, and he ignored the fleeting looks that were sent his way as he slid past the others and made for the dining room.

The light was a bit brighter in here, somewhat successfully filtering through the grimy windows. He dropped his gaze to the stained carpet, not really daring to look Sirius in the eye. He wished he had thought of checking himself in the mirror before he went downstairs. Sirius was not wearing robes today and there was no way in hell that Harry was going to let his gaze wander over that chest, hidden only by a tight-fitting black t-shirt, before he knew what this was all about. As he waited for his godfather to speak, he heard Mrs Weasley recommence her inquiry about clothes and belongings, and the muttered responses.

Sirius gave the door a little push but it did not close entirely. A moment's silence followed during which Harry wished himself a million miles away. Then his breath caught when he realised how close Sirius suddenly was. He did not dare to move as his godfather completely erased the distance between them. He stopped breathing altogether when Sirius placed two fingers under his chin and tilted his head backwards.

For all the agony and for all the aching and shameful desire that Harry had known since last night, the kiss was heart-wrenchingly soft. At first, it was even hard to tell whether their lips touched at all. They remained almost unmoving for a while, and Harry was conscious only of this simple touch that in no way matched his racing heartbeat. The floor swayed beneath his feet as Sirius increased the pressure just a little and opened his mouth enough to be able to taste Harry's lower lip with a tongue tip. Ever so gently, his godfather coaxed him to open up and Harry yielded, his world spinning to a complete standstill. Sirius' tongue slid against his own and Harry tasted toothpaste, and was vaguely surprised; he'd never thought of his godfather as someone who particularly enjoyed brushing his teeth. The thought was gone as soon as it had formed, though, and he willingly let Sirius explore every corner of his mouth, retaining just enough sense to angle his head so that his glasses would not be too much in the way.

It ended just as tenderly as it had begun. Sirius pulled back little by little, still kissing, still sliding their tongues together, still gingerly sucking on his lower lip, but inevitably letting Harry go. The warmth of his godfather's mouth had wrapped securely around him and he felt as though he were melting. Eventually, Sirius placed a final, very light, kiss to his lips and Harry slowly opened his eyes to the light of day.

Sirius' own lips were reddened and his grey eyes were gleaming. "I want to fuck you senseless."

Colour rushed into Harry's cheeks and a wide, wolfish grin was painted across Sirius' features. But he was not jesting. There was something distinctly predatory in the way he was regarding Harry and it made a shiver of fearful anticipation run down the young man's spine.

"However, this, I believe," continued Sirius quietly, "is neither the right time nor place for that... Or..." he cast a quick glance in the direction of the large table and a smirk replaced the grin, "not the right time at least."

"You..." Harry swallowed hard, "But it's..."

"Ssh..."

Sirius covered his mouth with his own once more but the kiss was initially no more demanding than the first one, though perhaps a little less elegant. Harry lost his precarious hold on reason as his godfather deepened the kiss and sucked Harry's tongue into his own mouth for further exploration. A jolt of heat reverberated through his body and worked its way all the way down to his groin. He meant to pull away but Sirius' hands had landed on his hips now and all Harry wanted was to run his hands down his godfather's back, searching for the warm skin that hid underneath his t-shirt and...

He broke away a little, or tried to, at least. Indeed, he was rather successful until Sirius wound one arm around his waist and with his free hand caught one of Harry's own hands in his. "Here..." he mumbled against Harry's lips, "feel this."

Harry nearly choked when Sirius pressed his palm flat against the prominent bulge in his trousers. His skin seemed to soak up the heat that was emanating from Sirius' body. In fact, Harry would not have been surprised to learn that someone had pointed their wand at them both and whispered Incendio. He had no idea what to do but it seemed he could not move and so he remained with his palm against Sirius' cloth covered erection and allowed himself to be kissed in a way that he up until now had not known existed.

His head swam as Sirius ended the kiss and, removing Harry's burning hand from his groin, twined their fingers together and smiled. "Good morning."

Harry licked his lips, quite unnecessarily, and stared up at him. "What... I thought you wanted to..."

"Not the right time, Harry," Sirius reminded him, his eyes twinkling. "I think we ought to give the Weasleys a chance to leave first."

Harry had completely forgotten about them. When he concentrated, he could still hear them talking in the hallway. He felt the colour drain from his face. "They could have..."

"But they didn't." Sirius grinned. "How's that coherent speech of yours coming along?"

"I wasn't really expecting this," he mumbled.

"Tell me, Harry... after last night, what were you expecting?"

He shrugged, dropping his gaze to Sirius' left shoulder. "Yesterday you were angry with me... again." Now that he was sobering up, it was hard not to recall the fight they'd had about the Malfoys, and he discovered that a few kisses – no matter how passionate they were – did not really make up for the misery.

Sirius sighed. "Yeah, I'm sorry about that..."

Harry glanced up at him. "I don't get it... Why were you so adamant that the Malfoys should end up in Azkaban? You spent twelve years there and from what I've heard, you didn't have the time of your life..."

"Harry..." Sirius' eyes had lost all humour. He hesitated. "Listen, it has nothing to do with the Malfoys, really..." Letting go of Harry, he raked a hand through his dark hair. "I just..."

"What?" prompted Harry when it seemed he would say no more.

"Well..." Sirius shrugged, he too, and he sounded slightly rueful. "I just... I just don't want you getting involved, you know." He grimaced. "I know I'm being a selfish shit and all, but I want you here... not chasing after Ministry officials and going to trials and..."

"What are you talking about?

Sirius did not meet his gaze. "I want you all to myself, Harry... I was given this second chance – you gave me this second chance – and I don't want to lose you to some fucking noble cause."

Watching him, Harry did not know whether to laugh or scream. "Sirius..." he said slowly, "I'm staying here, with you. I'm not leaving with the Weasleys and I'm not going to move in with Draco and his mum in some cell somewhere."

"Yeah, about that," said Sirius, "Molly told me she's upset–"

"You're changing the subject."

"Fine. Go on."

Harry felt a small twitch in the corner of his lips but he firmly forbade himself to smile. "The Malfoys..."

"Are Death Eaters."

"Well, yes, but Draco..."

"Whom you've always hated –"

"Did sort of redeem himself –"

"Lucius –"

"Can go to Azkaban."

Sirius' eyes shot to Harry's face. "But I thought you wanted to save them?"

"If you had been listening properly yesterday, you would have heard me say that I don't care what happens to Lucius because, yes, I believe that he truly was supportive of Voldemort. But Draco and his mum were only in for the ride because he wanted it." Harry added an exasperated sigh, if only for the effect. He felt rather like Hermione.

"Right." Sirius ran a hand across his jaw. "You know that you look like you haven't slept for a week?"

"You're changing the subject again..."

"No, I'm not." Stepping up to him, Sirius flashed a small smile, but he did look somewhat sheepish. "OK, fine. Go save the Malfoys."

"Two of them, at least."

"Whatever. Just make sure you come back, yeah?"

Looking up into his lined face, Harry finally smiled. "Promise."

"That's what I like to hear..."

Edging a bit closer still, Sirius' hands resumed their gentle hold on Harry's hips. His eyes were sparkling again and this more than anything made a wave of pleasure wash through Harry. Leaning in, Sirius brushed their lips together, exchanging smiles.

Harry's eyes were drifting closed once more but this time something stopped them. There was confusion for a second or two as he could not understand why Sirius tensed. He opened his mouth, a question ready on the tip of his tongue, but he never needed to ask. In the doorway, with her eyes widened in shock and her mouth open, stood Ginny.

Something very cold wrapped around Harry's heart and his stomach plummeted into the basement. None of them moved, none of them spoke. Ginny was white in the face, her bright green sweater standing out against her skin so strikingly that she looked like a ghost.

It was ages upon ages before Harry found his voice. "Gin... let me explain..."

As though entranced, she nodded slowly, her eyes not leaving them. "I think... I just might... let you do that, Harry..."

It was Sirius who first reclaimed the ability to move. He disentangled himself from Harry, taking a few steps back. Where his hands had rested on Harry's hips, two patches of warmth remained. "I'll..." he cleared his throat, "um..."

Harry certainly did not have the right to long for him again, already. With Ginny having found out his big secret, Harry was pretty sure he did not even have the right to look at his godfather. "Upstairs?" he suggested weakly.

She nodded again. It looked mechanical.

It proved impossible to sneak past the Weasleys unnoticed. Harry caught Ron's puzzled expression and as they reached the stairs, Mrs Weasley called after them, "Ginny, your father will be here any minute now...!" Ginny did not answer her.

The bathroom in which Harry had spent a good deal of the previous night, he realised now, lay practically next door to the room occupied by Ginny and Hermione. Somehow, in all his confusion, he had managed to forget this and now he felt even worse. What if he had made any strange noises...? What if he had... groaned? Harry's cheeks were burning as he let Ginny enter the bedroom first.

Harry carefully closed the door behind him. This room was about the same size as the one he and Ron slept in, and equally dank and dismal. Two narrow beds and one gigantic chest of drawers, decorated with odd symbols and signs competed for attention. The black velvet curtains were dusty. Ginny plopped down on to one of the beds but Harry did not follow her. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other while she clearly waited for him to speak.

"I'm sorry."

She only raised one eyebrow. Her lips were pressed into a thin line.

Harry forced himself to look at her. "I'm really, really sorry, Gin... I should have told you."

Unmoving, she continued to stare at him.

"I don't know what happened..." said Harry. "I don't know what is happening. I came back – Sirius came back – and he..." He did not know what to say. "We just..."

"Harry... I'm a girl," said Ginny quietly. "Sirius is... not."

"I know that. I know..."

"Did you always...?" She shook her head, a furrow deepening on her brow. "You liked Cho..."

"I liked you!" Harry himself was surprised at the fervour with which he spoke.

This time, she raised both eyebrows.

"I still do..." said Harry. "Just not... like that, any more."

They were silent for a little while. Harry felt like a statue.

Eventually, Ginny spoke again, very quietly. "I didn't know whether you were alive or dead, Harry. For all I knew you could have..." She drew a deep breath, "I didn't know anything..."

Cautiously, Harry crossed the floor. When she did not object he sank down to sit beside her. "I missed you."

She sat staring at her hands that lay folded in her lap. "You don't owe me anything, Harry... You broke up with me."

"I didn't want to put you in danger..."

"It doesn't matter now."

Harry swallowed hard. A great big lump was forming in his throat. "I don't know how to explain this," he admitted. "Ever since Sirius came back, we've had this connection... I feel like we're really close, you know."

"Yeah, well, obviously you are." Her smile was completely humourless but at least it was not grim.

"I wanted to tell you – I meant to. But I didn't know what to say..." Now that he had begun talking, the words rushed out of him, one after the other. "How was I to tell you that I felt attracted to my own godfather?"

"This is so weird..."

"It's madness, Gin. I have no idea what I'm doing."

"Your godfather...I mean, it's not enough for you that he's alive – you have to fancy him too!" She had turned to face him and there was a flash in the brown eyes. "You're a bastard, Harry, for not telling me!" She flung her bright red hair over a shoulder. "For one year I was without news of you! I thought you were dead! And then you come back, and you almost let Voldemort kill you, and then all of a sudden it's over and Fred's the one who's dead and you're alive and you say nothing! NOTHING!"

Her last word tore through Harry's heart like a blade. It was worse than any Cruciatus he'd been dealt. He watched as she flew up from the bed, spinning to face him. "I should hate you for this!" Tears were forming in her eyes and she angrily brushed them away. "I should hate you, Harry..."

Her first sob pulled Harry to his feet and without thinking, he wrapped his arms around her. At first she tried to twist away from him but he was determined and when she realised her struggle was pointless, she buried her face in his shoulder and let him hold her as she cried.

"Ginny!" Mrs Weasley's voice came floating through the door. "Ginny, your father is here!"

Ignoring her, Harry tightened his hold on Ginny while she cursed him between sobs and shallow, ragged breaths.

"I'm so sorry, Gin..." he mumbled into her hair, feeling tears sting his own eyes as well. Despite everything, that flowery fragrance still clung to her. He relaxed his hold on her a little and closed his eyes to the pained that welled up.

"Ginevra!?"

Taking Harry by surprise, Ginny tore away from him, stomped over to the door, flung it open – Harry thanked whatever powers watching for the fact that Mrs Weasley was calling from somewhere down below – and cried, "Mother, NOT NOW!"

A deafening silence followed during which Harry was absolutely convinced that he had ended up in a dream again, and when he woke – anytime now – he would be back in his dorm with a dead godfather and a war yet to come. In fact, for a moment or two, he preferred this scenario to the current one. Then Ginny slammed the door shut, and slowly turned back to him, her jaw tightly clenched.

"Anything else you'd like to tell me?"

Harry looked into her tearstained face and her puffy, reddened eyes and came to the conclusion that he would always find her beautiful. "Yeah," he said slowly, and his stomach took a very unpleasant backward flip. "I think I'm in love with Sirius and I'm scared to death."

TBC