Chapter 9: Persuasion
Harry turned, and barely had time to register what was happening before Ginny's lips came crashing down on his. One of her hands slid up his chest, and the other knotted in his hair. After a moment's hesitation, his primal instincts took over; arms slipping around her and pulling her closer. The doorknob was pressing uncomfortably into his back but he barely noticed. It was only when Ginny's lips began to kiss a heated path to his throat that any kind of coherent thought returned.
"Gin, stop." The words were rough and husky; barely audible. Whether she heard him or not, she continued tracing a line between his pulse point and his collar bone, making his heart thump erratically against his ribcage.
"Ginny," he repeated breathlessly, with a little more resolution, "we've got to stop."
"Why?" she whispered seductively against his skin, moving to nibble a new path between his jaw and his ear.
"Because it's late, your brother is just down the corridor, and will kill us when he finds out, you promised your mum you would stay in Hermione's room, I only just got back, and we decided we would take this slowly." Harry clenched his hands into fists on her warm back, trying to stay focused.
"So? Ron will only kill us if he find out, which he won't, because Hermione has enough common sense to keep her mouth shut, and the same applies to my dear mother," she touched her hot tongue lightly to his skin, knowing it wouldn't be long until he cracked.
"Yeah, but-" he didn't get any further. Ginny brought her mouth back to his. Something almost animal seemed to play behind the rhythm of her lips; something unfamiliar and different that drove out everything but the hot, electric sensation that roared through his blood like adrenaline. Ginny opened her mouth slightly, and ran the tip of her tongue along his bottom lip with a soft moan. Harry's resolve melted. He pushed away from the door, forcing them tightly together and plunged his hands into her glorious hair. He backed her roughly into the side of his bed, forcing her to sit. Without breaking the kiss, he pushed her backwards and crawled over her, one knee in between her legs. She hissed as his fingers played over the exposed skin between the hem of her t-shirt and her jeans, leaving a trail of goose bumps.
His hand slipped under her shirt, and she twitched slightly.
"Ticklish," she giggled against his mouth. He chuckled, and continued to skim his hand across her stomach and ribs.
Each moment that passed between them caused any remaining rational thought to drip from his mind. Everything was just her. Her, her hands, lips, the same flowery smell of her hair that he recognised from sixth year, all taking over everything he knew and blurring it all together into now, and this, and everything and nothing at the same time.
The door flew open with a crash that seemed to shake the heavens. Harry's eyes flew open, and in an attempt to roll over to see who the intruder was, he misjudged his distance from the edge of the mattress, and hit the floor with a heavy thump. The pain of the fall was quickly forgotten under the livid expression of Ron Weasley, who seemed to fill the doorway, waves of rage rolling off him, a muscle in his jaw ticking. The blood drained from Harry's face.
"Ginny, leave," Ron's voice was low, but the menace the boiled under the surface of it made Harry sincerely hope that Ginny was not in an argumentative mood this morning. From behind him he heard her scramble out of the bed. Harry thought the fact that she was still fully clothed would calm Ron down, but his fists just ball up, his muscles tensed. As Ginny hurried past him out of the door, Harry noticed Hermione cowering behind Ron. She was very pale in the morning light shining, and was anxiously biting at her bottom lip. She glanced at him and mouthed, "Sorry,"
Ron seemed to be having difficulty controlling his anger long enough to speak, so using the bad frame as support, Harry pulled himself to his feet.
"Listen, Ron, it's not-"
"It's not what it looks like? Don't-" he paused, jaw working furiously, "It's everything it looks like, Harry!" He suddenly roared. Harry flinched, not expecting the sudden change in dynamic. "You persuaded my sister to stay with you last night in here, thinking oh, Ron will never find out, and it's just a bit of fun, am I right?" He began advancing on Harry, who backed around the edge of the bed.
"No! It was nothing like that! She made me let her stay!"
"Oh, and you so valiantly objected, did you? Pull the other one. I'm sure you were more than happy to let her stay." Ron snarled, shoving Harry in the chest, forcing him to take another step backwards.
"Nothing happened! I'm still clothed, she's still clothed. Nothing happened, honestly!" he shouted, pushing back.
"Doesn't mean you didn't do anything! Copped a feel, didn't you? She's my sister, Harry! And if you ever hurt her, or take advantage of her or-" there was a thump as Harry back into the wall. Ron seemed to lose his train of thought, "Hurt her, and I'll kill you," he hissed.
"Ron!" Hermione shoved her way in between the two of them, glaring at Ron, "This is Harry! You know he wouldn't hurt himself before he ever hurt your sister. And yes, it wasn't particularly responsible of him to let Ginny spend the night in his room, but he would never pressure her to. In fact, on that side of things, Ginny's a lot more likely to be the guilty party in that matter."
There was a long pause, as Ron continued to glower at Harry over the top of Hermione's head.
"I'm going to go have breakfast," he muttered, before striding out of the room.
Walking downstairs with Hermione, Harry asked, "How did he find out?"
To his surprise, Hermione blushed.
"Well, he came to say good morning to me, and then saw that Ginny wasn't in her bed. I told him she had just gone to make a cup of tea. He said he hadn't heard the bedroom door open. I'm sorry Harry, he made me tell him that Ginny hadn't been in all night. I tried to stop him from barging into your room..."
"It's okay, don't worry. I should have been more responsible. I just got a bit, uh, caught up in the moment..." It was Harry's turn to redden.
Ron seemed to have calmed down by the time they reached the kitchen. Breakfast was awkward, and barely anything was said, but Harry preferred it to arguing. At ten he apparated Ginny home, who had refused to talk to Ron since being told to get out of Harry's room. He left her outside The Burrow's back gate, after telling her he'd see her when they got back from Australia and kissing her softly.
That day was a mess of packing and cleaning, but on Wednesday they headed into the centre of London to buy some new furniture and decorations, new rugs, carpet, paint and wallpaper. Ron was in a foul mood all day, which only worsened when Harry and Hermione refused to purchase a couch that would bite unwelcome visitors that had the misfortune to sit on it.
"Come on guys," he whined, "just imagine it, Malfoy pays us a surprise visit to show off about the new line of racing broomsticks he's releasing, sits down, wham! Man-eating sofa, one, Ferret Boy, nil." he cackled evilly.
"How's it supposed to know who's an unwelcome guest and who's not?" asked Hermione, examining the sofa warily.
"Yeah, Ron, we're trying to make the house friendlier; more welcoming. A biting couch isn't going to help that."
Ron crossed his arms and muttered, "When I'm married and have my own place, I'm getting one of these."
"No, we won't," blurted Hermione, before turning a very bright shade of fuchsia.
"I-I'm going to go and find lampshades," she stammered, before running off to the other side of the department store at top speed.
"So, uh, not this sofa then?" Ron asked uncomfortably. It took all of Harry's mental strength not to laugh out loud; it took a lot to embarrass Hermione, and the crimson shade of Ron's ears was beginning to stain his cheeks, too.
Thursday morning dawned bright and early, a thin mist settled over the rooftops of London, turning beautiful shades of orange and pink in the sunrise.
Harry, however, did not think it was beautiful. It was too early in the morning for beautiful. In the room down the corridor, Ron had no opinion on the sunrise. He was fast asleep.
Hermione didn't have time for things like sunrises. She had woken at four, and was now cooking breakfast downstairs, after waking Harry and many fruitless attempts to wake Ron.
Harry stumbled bleary eyed into the kitchen.
"What time is it, and what time's the flight?" he yawned.
"It's quarter to five, and our flight's at eleven thirty," she stated brightly.
"Hermione! We have six hours until then!" Harry exclaimed, aghast.
"Well, if the ministry car Kingsley is sending arrives at six thirty, and it takes us an hour to get to the airport, and then we have plenty of time to check in before the flight."
"But you're only supposed to check in two hours before a flight, not four!"
"I thought we would beat the crowds," she reasoned, not allowing him to put her down, "Could you go and wake Ron again?" Harry scowled.
"No. At least then one of us can get a reasonable amount of sleep." he left Hermione to finish kitchen and went upstairs to shower.
The bruise from the killing curse was almost got, now all that remained was a pale green and yellow splash across him chest. Part of him wished it had stayed as a reminder of that day. Another part just wished he could forget everything. He showered and dressed in comfortable clothes, and then began to pack his hand-luggage.
At quarter past five, he went into Ron's room and hit his friend over the head with a pillow. There was no response. He pointed his wand at the slumbering mass and though Levicorpus. With a yelp of alarm not dissimilar to the one he had emitted in sixth year, Ron was hoisted into the air by his ankle. Though satisfied that he was awake, Harry doubted that he would stay that way for long. He cast a levitating charm over his friend and with a flick of his wand in the direction of the door, Ron began drifting after Harry, flailing and cursing.
The ministry car pulled up to take them to the airport at six o'clock, prompt. They piled their luggage into the magically extended boot. They would have used Hermione's bag, except that, as she pointed out after Ron almost fell to his death lugging his suitcase down the stairs, Muggle security at the airport would find it a bit suspicious that they were taking one small bag on a three week trip. Also, the charm would mess with the hand luggage screening machines.
"Heathrow?" the driver from the ministry asked as they climbed into the back row of seats.
"Yes please,"
Ron gave Hermione a questioning look.
"Heathrow is the airport we'll be flying from, Ronald."
"Well sorry," he muttered under his breath. He was still in a bad mood after his rude wake up forty-five minutes previously.
Harry had never been in an airport before, but it wasn't too different from a train station. Ron was fascinated by everything, and it very much reminded Harry of a young child experiencing something brand new for the first time. While Hermione checked them in, Ron stared up at the flight timetables with an expression of dumbfounded awe on his face.
His excitement only grew when they went through the metal detectors and entered the duty free. Hermione and Harry exchanged glances. In the end, they took shifts in looking after him, like parents with a toddler.
Finally, and not a moment too soon, a voice announced that all passengers on the flight from Heathrow to Sydney, Australia should begin to board the plane.
It took a lot of struggling to get Ron away from the Aftershave display, but not because he was so engrossed in it that he didn't want to leave it, but because as soon as the announcement was made, he remembered how they were going to be getting to Australia. After reassuring, arguing, and threatening him, he finally, but reluctantly let them drag him onto the plane.
Harry stared out of the window at the tarmac of the runway.
"Goodbye, England," he thought, "Hello Australia."