"Come on, hurry," Ginny tugged at his hand as she giggled, the words and letters oddly melting into each other as she tried to talk. Her head was spinning slightly, feet stumbling against feet as she climbed the stairs as speedily as she could, Harry's hand clinging tightly to hers.
"But Ron -"
Ginny spun around and flashed him a bored little look. "Too busy shagging in the bathroom."
"Woah, happy birthday, mate," Harry whispered reverently and nearly tripped over the next step, woozy on his feet.
Ginny giggled again, lips stretching in endearment as she took in his somewhat disheveled look, the rumpled shock of dark hair, the glasses slipping down his nose, the half unbuttoned shirt, all of it the natural result of a twenty year old's birthday party with too much alcohol and a pack of older brothers inventing new and increasingly wilder drinking games on the spot.
She started tugging at his arm again, a new found ardour in her body, a dizzying kind of determination taking hold of her mind. Or maybe it was the wine, Ginny didn't really know or care much either. She had a brilliant idea and that was all that mattered.
She pushed open the door to Ron's room with the sole of her foot, with a small 'whoops' as it banged against the wall and a toothy grin at Harry, who still blinked at her as though he'd only begun to cotton on to what she had in mind. Ginny found the semi shocked expression on his face adorable, the way those deep emerald eyes widened behind his round specs.
"That way," she instructed, marching both of them inside the small annex where it all started three years prior. "Heaven, eh?" Ginny sighed, stumbling over Harry, arms locking at the back of his messy head.
Suddenly, Harry seemed to sober up, his eyes less glossy, a hungry look settling there as he watched her face intently, gazing into her eyes so deeply Ginny felt the tips of her fingers buzz, a wave of electricity coursing through her. Her stomach churned and she swallowed hard, teeth sinking into her bottom lip as her heart strummed wildly, fluttered madly inside its cage.
Then Harry kissed her hungrily, just as mindful not to waste precious time as he'd been at sixteen. At the back of her mind, Ginny could still hear Ron shouting 'six minutes', his voice the epitome of annoyance as he exercised his older brother prerogative.
But all of that swirled right out of her head when Harry groaned into her mouth, his fingers gripping at her waist, one knee sliding easily between her legs. This time, it was Harry who was walking them backwards until her back hit the wall and her chest pressed ardently into his, eager for more, more, more.
She fumbled with the rest of the buttons and nearly tore his shirt open, desperate to feel more of him, to taste more of him, to have his skin searing as it rubbed against hers, friction and panting and bodies melting into one. She kissed him ardently, nails raking at his scalp, tongue rolling out moan after moan as his lips trailed from her neck to her chest and kissed her through her dress.
They'd done it countless times before, of course, a relationship as heated as the seven glorious minutes that started it, but somehow - somehow Ginny craved the thrill, the heavy excitement that came with the possibility of being caught, of hiding somewhere small and dark and forbidden to abandon themselves into each other. Her breath hitched as she thought about it.
Her hands went behind her back to try and undo her bra through her dress, managing to trip on her feet in her eagerness, bringing them both tumbling to the ground.
"Alright, Gin?" Harry asked as he cradled her face, looking for the smallest sign that she'd been hurt. Ginny wanted to laugh: how could she ever be hurt when she's with him?
"Quite," she smiled, crawling her way up his body to resume their kissing. "Had a bit of trouble with this stupid bra - ah, it won't come open."
She supposed her face was probably scrunched up ridiculously as Harry studied her, bemused, before one warm hand snuck inside her dress, feeling the back of her thigh, her bum, caressing the clusters of freckles on her back until two fingers hooked around the clasp and effortlessly popped it open.
"You're a wizard, Harry," Ginny grinned and grabbed the insulting garment, tugging it out with such vigour it flew across the crammed dresser, knocking the door slightly ajar.
Harry chuckled and reached back to shut it with the tips of his fingers, blocking all light again and leaving them in complete darkness.
"Now where were we?" He switched his attention back to her, fingers tickling at her waist, bunching up her dress in their wake.
Ginny simply pressed his hands to her chest and leaned in to whisper confidently against his lips, "I think right about here."
Harry groaned hungrily and swiftly rolled them over, now towering over her, kissing and biting at her lips as her thighs rose to bracket his waist, her ankles locking around him in a grip that screamed don't stop, go on, don't ever stop.
Harry's mouth found her chest again through her dress and Ginny couldn't stop the moan that erupted out of her at the damp, warm feeling, at the increasing pressure that was building in her stomach. It was something exhilarating about him feeling her through her clothes, about this new layer, this new kind of barrier between them and them doing it despite it. Two fingers came to rest between her legs and Ginny cried his name.
Harry pressed his fingers through her dress, her knickers at first, his mouth still hungrily at her breast, his other hand wound tightly through her hair, his glasses tumbling off his nose as she pressed herself enthusiastically up into him, desperate to get more, more, more.
His hand ceased the gentle circles he'd been doing and brilliantly, marvelously found its way inside her dress, inside her knickers as he bunched them aside, inside her wet and hot and needing him achingly so.
Ginny moaned his name again as Harry pumped his fingers into her and she held onto him tightly, sinking her teeth into his shoulder, tugging at his hair, grasping for his jaw to pull his face and mouth and lips from her breast and glue them to her. He didn't stop but kissed her the way she wanted him to kiss her, madly and hard and breathlessly right there on the floor.
Her hands fumbled with his belt and his hand kept moving, building an intoxicating need for him inside her. She wanted to feel him entirely, to melt into him. She wanted him to have her.
"No, don't," Ginny hurriedly said when Harry moved to slide down his jeans and, for a moment, he looked at her bewilderedly. Then, as if understanding perfectly what she was telling him, as if he too was getting the same kind of kick, the same kind of mad thrill out of it. Harry smirked and helped himself out of his pants, the other hand gripping the hem of Ginny's dress to pull it up enough to find his way inside of her.
Ginny wiggled slightly until her upper back found the wall, one palm at Harry's shoulder as he pulled her knickers aside once again and drove himself insider her gently.
Her head rolled back and her eyelids fluttered shut in raw pleasure as he pushed onto his knees to dive in deeper, rapidly driving the easy, tender rhythm into something more urgent, more desperate. She wound herself around him, head feeling the hard impact of the wall as he pushed and thrust, her dress sliding up her thigh to leave it bare as they rocked together, moaning.
There was no alcohol on her tongue, on her mind now, only Harry. Only Harry and the way he tasted as he kissed her, and the way he sighed her name as their bodies glided against one another, the way his touch burned her skin as his palms snuck underneath her and brought her closer to him, deepening his dive. Harry.
His forehead rested against her clavicle as Harry's breathing became more erratic, more irregular and his thrusts harder, stronger, deeper until Ginny heard herself call his name over and over, pulling at his hair frantically, digging her heels into the floor to push herself up, to be closer, impossibly close to him, to become one with him.
Ginny didn't know where Harry ended and she began. She only felt the warmth of his open mouth on her skin, the furrowing of her brow as he finally let go and took her with him. Her head hit the wall and she screamed his name. Harry, Harry, Harry.
In the mess that was left, her knickers wet and sticky with the both of them, his jeans carrying drips and spots, proof of their hungry love, Ginny simply let her cheek rest against his stubbled one, sighing contently. It was a different kind of dizziness, her head lighter than it had been not an hour before, when wine was woozing its way through her thoughts, guiding her and tearing down her barriers, tearing down her inhibitions.
Harry lifted his eyes and stared at Ginny briefly, a smile tugging at his lips, sweat glistening at his temples. He gazed at her adoringly and she cupped his chin and brought his lips to hers, the way she wished she could three years before. They only had seven minutes back then - and all their lives afterwards to kiss, to feel, to be happily and irrevocably in love with each other.
"What the bloody hell is this?" Ron's voice boomed from the other end of the door, shaking her out of her revery.
Her heart beating in her ears, Ginny listened for her brother's footsteps. He took a few and stopped again. "Potter, you arsehole," Ron muttered dejectedly as Hermione's feet quickly padded across the room.
"How do you know it's Ginny's?" Hermione asked, an amused edge to her voice and suddenly the image of herself chucking her bra out of the dresser flitted through Ginny's mind. She heard Harry stiffle a groan close to her ear.
"Well, it's not yours, is it?"
"No, Ron, it's not mine. I put mine back on not two minutes ago, as you should very well know," Hermione huffed, dignified, and Ginny was absolutely certain Harry was rolling his eyes just as hard as she was.
"Wait till I get my hands on that prat," Ron declared and they could hear him stride across the room and slam the door behind him, no doubt taking the insulting piece of garment with him as proof for Harry's heinous crime.
Ginny bit the inside of her cheek to muffle the bubbling laughter building from the pit of her stomach and coursing up through her until she could no longer hold it in. She burst into laughter, boisterous and heavy, rumpled head buried into Harry's shoulder as he laughed as loud as she did, fingers wiping at his eyes.
"Oops?" Ginny grinned and Harry leaned in to kiss her nose, moving gently to remove himself from her. Carefully, she straightened her underwear and patted her dress to ease the creases, tucking her legs under her.
"Imagine if we undressed," Harry winked, righting his clothes and zipping his jeans. This time, he didn't bother taming his hair, just pushed his glasses up his nose and seemed content with the result. Everyone knew anyway, Ginny supposed. Everyone was doing it, hidden away in different corners of the house.
"Know what, my knickers are entirely too wet to still be wearable," she started, a mischievous sparkle in her eyes as she watched Harry's eyebrows shoot up into his hair. "What if you slipped them in your pocket? Give my brother another shock when he rounds up on you?"
Harry laughed at the ridiculousness of her words, shaking his head as if to say 'be nice, naughty' but Ginny could see that he was secretly interested, pleased even by her wicked suggestion.
So she quickly lifted her dress to hook her fingers around the edges of the sopping things, rolling them down her freckly legs with a grin on her face and a look in her brown eyes that left Harry gaping.
"Keep them safe for me, will you?" Ginny winked, her hand slipping inside his front pocket, chest puffing in sheer delight as she could feel him harden against her hand and hear as his breath hitched loudly.
"What if - erm," Harry cleared his throat, a little flustered as Ginny took pity and removed her hand, "what if we skipped the cake this year and went directly to my place?"
Grinning widely, Ginny grabbed his face and kissed him deeply, tugging at his hand right afterwards to break into a run directly down the stairs and straight out of The Burrow, Ron's indignant shouts of 'Potter, you bloody bastard' echoing behind them.