Chapter Thirty-Four

"Will you hurry up already?"

"I think the Great Salt Lake will still be there five minutes from now when I've had time to tie my top right!" Ginny shouted, fussing with the strings of her bikini.

America had been strange. She and Oliver had been abroad for four months and they'd gone all over Europe and most of the way across the United States; if she'd been rather ignorant about life there, Oliver had known nothing. They'd seen art like nothing else, Oliver had used mediums he'd never dreamed of (Ginny had to convince him that using his own ejaculate like one … unusual … artist they'd encountered was an awful idea), and Ginny had churned out three columns from American experiences alone. Now they were in Utah, studying something Ginny had never seen before: video games. The founder of something called A-tar-ee lived in Salt Lake City and Ginny had been lucky enough to interview him. Oliver had been struggling to paint or make something that was at all like what they'd seen at the museum, so he (Ginny privately believed) was putting it off by dragging her to the Great Salt Lake. Not, of course, that she didn't want to go.

Finally struggling her top into submission, Ginny threw on one of Oliver's shirts (it was his own fault for leaving it on her floor when he had his own side of the suite to leave clothes on) over her suit and shorts and grabbed her bag. Dashing down the stairs, she announced her descent to an impatient Oliver. He turned, mouth open to chide her for taking so long, but he stopped mid-word when his gaze fell on her.

"What on earth?" Ginny said, polishing her sunglasses briefly on the tail of Oliver's button-down. "Look, I'm sorry for using your shirt, but I'm not really, and you dumped it in my room when you could have just as easily dumped it in yours and… Stop staring!"

"Sorry," Oliver said, obviously not very sorry at all. "Sorry, I just … you look …"

"What, stupid?" Ginny frowned, looking down at herself. She thought she'd looked rather nice, as she'd been skimping on her food budget so she could get nicer hotels, writing supplies, alcohol, and hangover potions. "Well, I just figured since your clothes are so big they'd help me to dry faster, I won't get salt on it or anything, I promise."

"No, you look sexy," Oliver said, and he almost blurted it out. "You just look very sexy, that's all. I like seeing you wearing something of mine. It's a bit primal." Until the last sentence, his voice had been a little too serious for Ginny's liking, but the lightening of his tone relaxed her again. "I'm glad we're going together. You're making me look better just by being with me."

"Shut up, then," Ginny laughed. "Apparate? I'm sure there's some spot where Muggles won't see us. Behind a building or something."

"Seems a bit risky, lass," Oliver replied, but nevertheless he held out his arm for Ginny and she took it. Squeezing her eyes shut, her body followed Oliver's as he twisted into the quick but tight grip of Apparition. When she opened them, the light was dim and the air felt humid. She looked around, blinking slightly as she got used to the comparative darkness.

"Are we in a shower?" she asked, and although she hadn't spoken loudly her voice echoed slightly.

"Hey!" came another voice from over the wall. "This is the men's room, ya twat!"

"Oh, shut up," Ginny responded. She lowered her voice to speak to Oliver, who had been observing the exchange with amusement. "Right, I'm going to the girls' so I can walk out without attracting too much attention. Try not to get lost."

Once she'd done as she said, she met up with Oliver and they walked together down to the lake. It was larger than any Ginny had ever seen, and although there were several people scattered in the water and on the shore, it wasn't terribly crowded. It was beautiful, in an earthy sort of way. She felt like painting it but she wanted a magical impression and, obviously, couldn't get that in front of the Muggles. "It's wonderful," she said, and Oliver nodded. "Want to get in?"

Together they left their things on the beach atop the small blanket they'd borrowed from the owner of the bed and breakfast where they were staying. He'd lent it to them happily with far too many smiles and knowing winks for Ginny to be comfortable. Oliver, as usual, had just found a lot of amusement in the situation. Now, on the beach, he spent another moment admiring her much fitter than usual bikini-clad body before they sauntered leisurely into the lake. It was almost summer, and the water was clammy, but buoyant. Ginny stepped out slowly until the lake rippled gently against her waist, then raised her legs and spread her body out until she was floating on her back. Oliver went out a foot further and did the same. They drifted aimlessly, together but each in their own mind. Ginny looked up at the sky, thinking about Hermione and what she and Ron were doing. Lately Hermione's letters had been awfully cagey about her brother, and Ginny was starting to worry she'd started a ripple of domestic disturbances when she broke up with Harry. However, reflecting on it further, a blissful float in a salt lake that was bigger than any lake Ginny had ever been to didn't seem like the time to think about troublesome things.

She let her mind drift to Harry, who had just sent her a very cautious and somewhat standoffish letter. She wasn't upset over it; on the contrary, she was excited that he'd wanted to write to her at all. She was planning to respond to him sometime before she left Utah, as she had no clue when the next time she'd have a spare moment would be. She was healed enough over the breakup at this point that she was beginning to miss Harry's company as a friend, although Oliver had certainly been living up to the task of filling the void.

Oliver.

Now there was a pleasant topic, and she settled on it. The man silently floating a foot away from her had completely turned her life upside down. Over the past months after their heated kiss in Italy, they'd shared many more intimate moments, both bodily and emotionally. It seemed like every time they kissed was just as wonderful as the first time, and Ginny had surprisingly little difficulty sharing parts of herself that she typically kept guarded from other people. For instance, when May had begun, she realized with the annual gut-wrenching thud of sorrow that the anniversary of Fred's death was approaching faster than she could have believed possible. When Oliver had knocked on the door to ask her opinion on dinner, she'd opened to him without a second thought, although she'd cried more than a few tears. He didn't say anything, just brought her back to her bed and half-sat, half-lay next to her until she was ready to talk. He was a good listener and, after an hour, Ginny found herself sitting amidst take-out boxes, laughing and exchanging stories about her beloved brother.

However, things weren't always that innocent between them. She was feeling the same kind of dull heat that she'd felt with Harry almost throughout their relationship. Whatever else Harry's weaknesses might have been, his skill in the bedroom was not one of them. At this point in her relationship with Oliver, she had a sinking feeling that the only reason she was holding back was a subconscious fear that Oliver might not be as good as her ex-boyfriend. He hadn't had the experience with her that Harry had; Harry had been her first and, at least until now, her last, though there had been a few in between. Harry knew how to please her, he knew just exactly what she wanted, and, although Oliver knew just where and how to kiss her, that was the easy part of it.

"Knut for your thoughts?"

Oliver's voice interrupted her rather pleasant train of thought. He was no longer floating, but standing about six inches from her stomach and, although Ginny thought he was rather missing the point of visiting the lake by not taking advantage of its magic, she wasn't about to fight him over it. On a whim built from months of experience with the ever-open Oliver, she decided to be honest. "I was just thinking about you," she said, looking up at him.

"Really?" he asked, moving a little closer. One of his hands gently stroked the curve of her waist. Her already-cold skin bristled in fresh goose bumps. "Chilly, eh?"

"Not really," she said, thankful her teeth were no longer chattering.

"Well then," Oliver said, "what were you thinking about me, hmm?"

"It might be a little uncomfortable," Ginny warned.

"For me to listen to or for you to tell?" he asked, eyes twinkling. His hand still rested at her waist, while the fingers of the other pulled gently through her water-logged cloud of hair.

"A bit of both, maybe," Ginny said. When he didn't respond, she continued, "I've been thinking about how much I've wanted you lately. I know it's not very professional of me but I'm sort of past caring. I don't really think of you as a co-worker, although you are, in a way. I think of you as a friend I'm traveling with - and," she added, "as a friend I'm interested in. Sexually. I've been feeling a lot better lately about old wounds with Harry and it's even at the point where I miss him a bit as a friend and as someone who shares my time, so I don't have many misgivings about finally taking … this … to that step." For the first time during her little speech, Ginny felt nervous. "I'm … I guess I'm just not sure how being with you will be compared to Harry. Not that I'll compare you too consciously," she added, "but you know how it is. I was with Harry for a long time, he knew what I liked…" Her voice trailed off rather miserably.

Oliver didn't seem fazed or insulted at all. His hand crept lower, sliding over her hip and onto her backside, where it came to rest. "Oh, Ginny," he said, and his voice was a deep, rugged growl that made the water freeze around her warming body, "is that all you're worried about?" His fingers tightened around her arse, causing her back to arch slightly. Her lips parted almost unstoppably, and she felt her anxieties about being with Oliver grow a little hazier in her mind. "I don't blame you, though, lass," he continued, his voice approaching a more normal level and his hand loosening to travel back up to the small of her back. "And we're adults, so just straight fucking isn't our only option. How about we take it in steps?" he suggested. "I'll show you how I can please you, you can try things to see if you're all right with me if you'd like, and we'll go from there."

"You're so accommodating," Ginny breathed, mind racing with all the possibilities that deal held. "Thanks for being so understanding about this."

Oliver shrugged, strangely businesslike. "I just really, really want you," he said, and although he chuckled lightly with Ginny, something in his tone had been awfully serious.

AN: Well, as I'm sure you've guessed, the rating for this story is going up! I hope you're enjoying everything - I know I am! I had originally planned for the next chapter to be the last one but I love writing it so much that I cannot seem to stop! :) Also, this story just officially passed 50,000 words of content. Thank you for sticking with me for so long, readers!-TheGoldenAge