First base: sharing intense, passionate, open-mouthed kisses, with a mix of above the belt touching.
His head was spinning as he dropped on top of his bed, still fully clothed. He heard a sound close to vomiting coming from the four-poster next to his, but he just laughed. He'd talk to Ron tomorrow, for he couldn't quite trust his legs to support him should he attempt to stand up again.
Harry could never have imagined the day taking such a completely unexpected turn. Of course, he had already made up his mind and was only waiting for the perfect opportunity, whatever that may be, to make his intentions towards Ginny loud and clear.
But starting the day in the sublimely heinous company of the Hogwarts' Potions Master had in no way indicated that, only hours laters, he would succeed in both securing his spot as Ginny Weasley's boyfriend and kissing her until he felt dizzy. And Gryffindor would win the Quidditch Cup, but that was something Harry could feel good about later, much later, when the taste of her lips would start to fade and he'd be able to use his brain again.
And such intense kisses she gave. She was like wildfire, unleashing completely when he held her in his arms, bringing to the surface a side of him he never even knew he possessed (as a matter of fact, he had kissed girls before, if a snog shared through tears ever counted, but never quite like that).
No. It was different with Ginny: she could only trace his lower lip with her index finger and he came undone against the castle wall. And she enjoyed it, oh how she enjoyed making a fool out of him. He could read it in her eyes, that mischievous glint which reminded him so well of the twins. She was a cheeky one, Ginny. But that made it all the more exciting to him; yes, he was drunk on her, so much better than he had imagined.
Rolling on top of the covers until his head reached the pillows, Harry Potter fell asleep with a strong feeling of content woozing through him, coursing through his veins, for the first time the world around him fully at peace.
When he opened his eyes, it was already morning. The sun was up, there was a happy clatter of Hogwarts students rising to their dormitory windows, and a very wide grin plastered on his face. He was love-struck and it didn't even bother him.
"Ouch! Oi, what was that for?" Harry yelped and glared at Ron, who had apparently decided it was a good idea to smack him right between the eyes with a ridiculously large pillow.
Ron rolled his eyes so hard Harry thought they'd tumble out of his head.
"You had that lovesick smile stretched all over your face and it made me nauseous."
Harry wasn't quite sure what face he was making, but apparently it must've screamed 'confusion' as Ron jumped right into a little demonstration of his current feelings: he had put out his tongue and started viciously pointing towards it with his index finger.
Harry's first response had been 'Lavender Brown', but reckoned he valued his mental health too much to remind Ron of his own little trysts around Hogwarts. Luckily for Harry's eyes, and for their friendship with Hermione, that episode of Ron's life was now over.
"Are you feeling well enough to grab breakfast?" Harry asked, nonplussed, quirking a dark eyebrow.
Ron's bright blue eyes immediately lit up.
"Always. But, oi," he pointed a freckly finger at Harry, "no snogging at the table, around the table or anywhere near me, mate, is that clear?" Ron plowed on, poking Harry in the chest for better clarity.
Amused, Harry tapped two fingers against his temple, snuffing the laugh that was bubbling in his throat. "Aye, aye."
After all, he felt generous enough to spare some quality kissing opportunities if it meant keeping his best mate in good spirits. For now, at least.
Sadly for Ron, Ginny did not feel as generous. Sat next to Hermione at the Gryffindor table, she had already finished eating her breakfast, a healthy helping of buttered toast and pumpkin juice.
She dipped her head to the side and her features broke into a dazzling smile when her eyes fell on him. Harry's heart violently leaped.
Next thing he knew, two arms were encircled around his neck and a pair of moist lips glided against his own right there in the middle of the Great Hall, lingering eyes of professors and student body thoroughly ignored.
Getting a grip on himself, or rather feeling the incense of Ron's gaze, Harry slowly broke the kiss and grinned down at Ginny, heart strumming wildly in his chest. Quickly, Harry shrugged it off as if to say 'not my fault', and plopped himself at the table, Ginny's hand in his.
Her foot collided with his under the table, a hand under her chin as she looked at him sideways.
"Fancy a walk?"
His stomach churned, yesterday's memories rushing wildly back to him.
"Yeah, alright," Harry answered, absentmindedly grabbing two pieces of toast to tuck them in his pocket.
A little awkward, a little giddy, they shuffled their feet towards the ancient entrance doors, the sound of Hermione elbowing Ron in the ribs and his not-so-silent mutterings following in their wake.
"He's such a git," Ginny shook her head, amused, sun catching in her hair as they stepped into the summer air outside.
Harry was tempted to stretch his hand and wind his fingers through it, feel its gentle silk slide between his fingers. He stopped at the very last moment, hand flying awkwardly to his own rumpled head instead.
After all, they've only been together for less than twenty four hours - if that's what they were doing. He was not quite sure yet. They hadn't gotten round to talking much the other day, if he was being honest.
He bit his lip, air floating out of him as her small hand squeezed his.
"He just cares for you, is all."
"Well, he might as well stop. I won't have any brother of mine tell me who to date," Ginny confidently stated, nose scrunched up in a way that made Harry want to lean in and kiss it.
And there it was, that look of determination on her face that Harry had fallen throughout the year, each day a little more until his pulse was out of control and his thoughts turned into mush whenever she appeared, flowery scent and blazing look and sword sharp wit. It made his stomach do a little back-flip every time he was fortunate enough to witness it.
"So, erm," Harry coughed a little in his fist, "are we - I mean, we're dating?"
He was surprised to feel a small glint of smugness sneaking into his tone right beneath the awkwardness, the thrill. Was it pride he was feeling? The creature in his chest roared and purred, thoroughly pleased.
"Naturally," Ginny replied as though it the silliest question he could ask.
She smirked and it made him weak in the knees. It should have troubled him that someone held so much power over him so quickly, so completely, but oddly he was happy to surrender.
They reached a particular secluded spot near the lake and Harry felt his girlfriend – and indeed, it was something thrilling and altogether soothing in thinking of her as his girlfriend – pull him down to sit next to her on the warm grass.
"So," he said.
"So," she mimicked.
If he ever doubted that the conversation between the two of them would flounder, all his worries were immediately waived aside: their lines were flowing effortlessly, as naturally as if they had known each other's minds inside out.
How had it taken him so long to notice? Or has it not always been there, just under his nose, waiting for him to finally open his eyes and see?
Gone was the little blushing girl, his best mate's sister; gone was the shy girl who'd never open her mouth around him. Instead, Harry found himself intently gazing at a breathtaking young woman, all confidence and strength in her posture, in her deep brown eyes and set lines of her jaw.
Briefly, he wondered how she could carry herself as lightly as she did, after all she'd been through, after all she'd seen. Bravery was etched in Ginny Weasley's features and Harry thought he might be able to love her for it someday, in a brighter future than the one he feared was waiting for him.
He listened to her abuse Zacharias Smith and his abysmal Quidditch commentating skills and felt curiously relax, curiously at ease as he leaned on a nearby tree bark. Smiling lightly, Harry bent his knees to sit more comfortably and he was pleasantly surprised to see Ginny move to sit in between his legs, rest her back against the inside of his right thigh, her body fitting easily against his.
She carried on, going over the finer points of the previous day's match and Harry caught himself utterly bewitched by the sight of her lips. He'd never before realised how beautiful they were and full, a bruise delicately blooming on her lower lip where she'd always bite it when she searched for the right words.
Ah, and the way they curved when she laughed, the mischief in her smile, he just had to feel them.
So he did and caught her mid-sentence.
Not minding in the slightest, she responded wholeheartedly, her hands enthusiastically flying tug at his unruly hair.
Chapped met tender and warm, their mouths pressing against each other. Easily, she brushed her lips first against his upper one, then against his lower lip and he parted them without really indenting to.
Ginny pursed her lips further against his, as his hand wandered to the back of her head, pulling her in and as close as he could. He was mollified and, for a moment, Harry felt bold enough to try something he'd never done before: he smoothly touched her parted lips with his tongue, tasted them briefly, and immediately sensed her draw in a mouthful of air.
Harry knew he was travelling on entirely new grounds but took her response as a positive omen and an encouragement to continue. The tip of his tongue gently collided with hers and the taste nearly sent him into overdrive. Honey was mixed with pumpkin juice, increasing his urgent desire to explore her deeper, leaving him breathless against her mouth.
Ginny shifted her position for better access and took over his sheepish attempts.
As she took control, Harry felt more eager and excited, and finally he just let go. Her tongue entered seamlessly into his mouth, making him breathe out aloud.
Ginny sighed softly when his trembling fingers started caressing her waistline through her robe. Gently sucking on his tongue, she set his nerves on fire and Harry heard himself gasp and moan.
He blushed as he realised he'd been making the sounds, a silent prayer speedly raised that she'd magically missed it. With a shudder, Harry drew his head back, finally ending the kiss.
Both of them were panting hard, Ginny laying flush against his chest. She could sense the delicate thumping of his heartbeat under her palm and smiled. Snogging a red-faced, messy-haired Harry Potter was definitely becoming one of her favourite activities and it sent shivers down her spine.
She was no expert in the physical department herself, but seeing him awkwardly venture to discover her brought a wave of pride and pleasure washing over her. It might have been vain to bask in the validation of what she had always hoped – that she would be his first, that she would be his only; a sudden, curious thought that made her understand something else about her own self: Ginny was possessive when it came to Harry Potter and she wasn't even ashamed of it.
She didn't balk under the weight of this strange new realisation. Instead, she grinned at him, breathed him in, with his emerald eyes and his shock of dark hair, a faint blush on his cheeks that Ginny knew she had created. Her, her, her and no one else.
It was the first time Ginny Weasley felt like she belonged, like nothing the world would throw at her could ever make her give up this boy, this young man that was holding her so dearly, so tenderly against his chest. They were going to learn each other inside and out, memorise every small detail and overcome their fears together. He knew it and she knew it and they agreed upon it silently.
It was going to be an interesting journey but it was bloody worth it.