A/N: Anyone who knows my writing (especially if you used to follow me on SIYE), knows that I love to write for challenges and fic exchanges, the fluffier the prompt, the better. This piece is for a fun exchange from the Writing, Fanfiction, and Hinny Discord server, of which I'm a part. Check it out, if you're interested. Some people there are writers, some are readers, and some are just along for the ride, but everyone loves Harry/Ginny fanfic. We have channels for reading, writing, SFW, NSFW, art, food, story discussions – sometimes with the author, and general randomness too. Come check it out, if you're so inclined.

Anyway, the prompt for the fic exchange is from HBP, and Harry's thought that the way Ginny kept cropping up in his dreams, he was sincerely glad Ron wasn't a Legilimens. The task was to write one such of those dreams, and this little tidbit just popped into my head. Enjoy!

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Harry loved Christmas at the Burrow. It didn't matter that he had no real basis for comparison; until Hogwarts, the holiday had been a nightmarish blur of being stuck inside the Dursley home, day after cold day, watching Dudley play with and then break the mountain of toys he'd gotten. But Harry couldn't imagine any Christmas could be better than one at the Weasley's, with its never-ending parade of delicious food, his own warm sweater lovingly knitted by Mrs. Weasley, and an abundance of laughter and good cheer.

That good cheer was in slightly less supply Harry's sixth year, at least as far as Ron was concerned. Harry wasn't sure if it was the weight of having a girlfriend he was realizing he didn't particularly like, or the literal weight of the ghastly necklace she'd given him for a gift, but Ron's attitude towards the holiday this year was decidedly lacking in enthusiasm. It wasn't all gloomy; Harry noticed with amusement how quickly Ron's mood seemed to improve whenever the next meal rolled around, or when everyone trooped outside for a wild game of snow Quidditch. And he'd grinned for a full twenty minutes after they'd all had a floo call with Hermione. But later that night, while everyone was sitting around drinking cocoa and trying not to listen to closely to Celestina Warbuck's latest holiday medley, Fred got a wicked look in his eye. Harry saw him elbow George and whisper something, and suddenly the tree was adorned with an enormous swath of gold tinsel that had been transfigured to spell out "My Sweetheart" in sparkly letters.

The room exploded in laughter, except for Ron, who looked like he was simply about to explode. He turned, inexplicably, on Harry. "Did you tell them about it?" he asked testily.

Harry held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Hell no, mate. I know better." Truly, Harry suspected Fred and George had been planning something ever since they'd learned Ron had a girlfriend. But Ron still looked rather mutinous.

"Whatever," he groused, standing up. "But I'm not really in the mood for company tonight. Can you find somewhere else to kip?" He looked around the room. "Like, what about with Ginny? She's the only one not sharing with anyone. Go sleep with her. I'm going to bed." With that, Ron turned on his heel and left.

Harry stood frozen, watching Ron's retreating back. Was this also one of Fred and George's pranks? He didn't dare look at Mrs. Weasley, certain his face was bright red and she'd be able to tell immediately that he'd spent rather too much of the last months having increasingly inappropriate thoughts about her daughter.

But Molly was still knitting serenely, tapping her foot to Celestina's caterwauling. "That's a good idea, Ron," she said idly. Her eyes flicked up. "Okay with you, Ginny dear? Ron's in a right state. It's not fair to subject Harry to that, especially on Christmas."

Harry caught his breath. What the hell? Fred and George were one thing, but there was no way Ginny's mum was in on a prank. Maybe the single shot of Firewhiskey he'd drunk earlier had been stronger than he thought? He cleared his throat.

"Err, maybe I should just . . ." he gestured weakly at the sitting room sofa.

"Come on, Harry, I promise I don't snore. It'll be a lot more comfortable in a real bed." Ginny was looking earnestly at him, and when Harry caught her eye, she bit her lower lip. "I mean, unless you don't want to sleep in my room."

"No, I do," said Harry quickly. "I umm, I think that'd be brilliant actually, to sleep with you." He stuttered. "I mean, t-t-to sleep in your bed. Instead of on the sofa. Much more comfortable." He nodded. "I'd like that."

Ginny gave him a satisfied look. "Good," she said. Then she yawned. "Actually, I'm rather knackered. Should we just head up now?"

Harry pinched the inside of his wrist. The pain was real and Ginny was still staring at him with her hand out. "Harry?" she asked.

"Go on, we'll be up soon and won't want to wait for the loo." Bill pulled his lips away from Fleur's jaw just long enough to wave Harry out of the room.

There was definitely something in that Firewhiskey

Taking a deep breath, Harry grabbed Ginny's hand and followed her up the stairs.

Harry had never been in Ginny's room before, and he looked around curiously at the bright curtains at the window, the Holyhead Harpies poster on the wall, the small desk. Anywhere except to the place his gaze kept pulling him – Ginny's bed, tucked cozily under an eave. It was bigger than a camp bed, but not by much. Was he really meant to sleep there next to Ginny? They'd be so close to each other . . .

Harry felt himself start to twitch underneath his trousers. Bloody hell, don't get hard now. She'll never let you in her bed if she thinks you're randy. She has a boyfriend, remember? This is just Ginny being nice. She thinks of you as a brother. Harry tried to force his thoughts to a place that wouldn't encourage his erection. He stared at what looked like a burn mark on the ceiling.

"Is Fred and George's room right above . . .?" he began. A flash of red pulled his gaze down and his voice died in his throat. Ginny had turned her back to him, and her hair spilled over her shoulders as she pulled her Weasley jumper over her head and tossed it casually on her chair. Underneath was a t-shirt, and seconds later, that was gone too. Harry forgot to breathe.

"Can you help me undo my bra? The hook on this one always sticks." Ginny's back was still to Harry, but she peered over one shoulder and caught his eye. Harry could see the soft swell of her front when she turned, covered only be a bit of cloth and lace. He swallowed.

"That would be, umm . . . yeah. I mean, sure." He took a couple of steps forward, eyes firmly trained on the pale blue band that stretched across Ginny's back. Harry meant only to touch the bra, but as soon as he got close, he couldn't help brush one hand down Ginny's shoulder first. She shivered, and Harry felt himself getting hard all over again.

"If you want to give me a backrub later, I definitely won't complain," she said.

"O-okay," Harry managed. He hooked a thumb underneath Ginny's bra and pulled it away from her back so he could unhook it, trying not let his hands linger on the soft skin underneath. In front of him, Ginny pulled it off and tossed it in the direction of her other clothing.

"Thanks, Harry," she said. She grinned at him over her shoulder again, and again, Harry caught sight of . . . Oh Merlin.

Ginny seemed oblivious to Harry's state. She prattled on casually as she walked to her wardrobe and grabbed an oversized t-shirt, pulling it on before turning back to him. "I'm going to take the bathroom first, okay? I don't think Bill was joking when he said we'd better be done when he and Fleur got up here." She grimaced. "You don't want to be anywhere nearby if they decide they need a shower. His silencing charms are good, but sometimes he gets distracted and forgets to set them."

"Uhh, okay." Bill wasn't the only one suffering from distraction. While she talked, Ginny had reached under her t-shirt and undone her jeans, pushing them down off of her and revealing rather a lot of her legs. The t-shirt covered her arse, but only just, and Harry found himself casting about again for something, anything, to take his mind off the way her muscles bunched when she bent over to pick her errant bra off the floor.

"There's some pajamas for you," she said, casually gesturing at the end of her bed. Harry was certain they hadn't been there a moment before. "I'll be right back." She darted out the door and Harry could breathe for a second. He pulled own sweater off, and the shirt underneath, and then glanced swiftly at the door before taking off his trousers.

The pajamas were not ones he'd seen before. Harry pulled the gold t-shirt over his head and then picked up the dark red bottoms, which were covered with tiny Quaffles that zoomed up one leg and down the other. He even thought he saw a tiny Snitch, weaving in and out.

A sound from the hallway made him jump, and he hastily pulled the rest of the pajamas on just as Ginny reentered the room. Her face had a scrubbed look about it and tendrils of damp hair fell across one cheek. "All yours, Harry," she said cheerfully. She held out a dry towel.

Harry couldn't help but notice the way Ginny's hair dripped onto the front of her t-shirt, which had been thin to begin with. Now wet, it was rather transparent in several strategic spots. He couldn't pull his eyes away, and realized, belatedly, that pajama bottoms were completely ineffective when it came to keeping certain . . . conditions hidden. He grabbed the towel from her.

"Right," he said. "I'll just be, umm. . . . right." He fled without waiting to see what Ginny thought of his crazed babbling or worse, if she'd noticed the reason for it.

Once safely in the loo, Harry leaned against the door and took deep breaths until he was finally in the proper state to actually have a pee. His body was feeling more and more disconnected from his brain, and after he brushed his teeth, he splashed cold water on his face to try to make sense of everything. Was he really going to spend the night in Ginny's bed? There'd be no way to avoid touching her, small as her bed was.

That thought was all it took, and Harry's erection came roaring back. He looked down at himself, considering. The decent, proper thing to do would be to have a quick wank right here, before going back to Ginny's room. The way he was feeling, there was no question that he would be able to finish well before Bill and Fleur required the loo.

But if he was being honest, Harry didn't want to take care of things himself. He'd be much likelier to just fall asleep if he wanked first, and that was something he didn't want to do. Harry knew nothing was going to happen between him and Ginny, at least, nothing physical. But in the back of his mind was the idea that maybe they'd have a chance to talk, lying together under the covers, alone in the dark.

Bloody hell.

Harry took a deep breath and forced himself to think of how many different body parts he'd never be able to use again if Bill suddenly appeared in the loo and discovered Harry with a serious hard-on caused by thoughts of Ginny. It helped only a little bit, so Harry added Charlie, and then for good measure, Mr. Weasley to the mix.

Only when he felt like he could go back to Ginny's room without fear of entering penis-first did Harry dare leave the bathroom. He kept the towel in front of his middle though.

Ginny was sitting up in her bed, scooted close to the wall when Harry got back. The blankets next to her were pushed back, waiting, and for a long moment, he was sure he was going to have to take the towel to bed with him. Ginny patted the mattress. "Come on, Harry, it's freezing out there. Get under the covers." In the next second, she pointed her wand at the door. It closed with an odd squelching sound and Harry started.

Had she just set a silencing charm?

Ginny lowered the lights, and only then did Harry feel it safe enough to drop his towel and climb gingerly into the bed. Ginny sighed in satisfaction and Harry felt her slide down until her head was on the wide pillow that stretched across the bed. Harry had never seen such a big one before, and he said so.

"It's so we can share, silly." Ginny turned on her side, facing him, and poked her toe into Harry's leg. "Now lie down. You're letting in cold air."

Harry lay down flat on his back and looked up at the dark ceiling. Next to him, Ginny laughed softly. Harry felt her breath on his neck and he couldn't hold back a shiver. She scooted closer and he shivered again. "Are you comfortable?" she whispered.

Harry wasn't sure that comfortable was the exact word he'd use, but he was determined not to let Ginny know what he was really thinking. "Ummhmm," he murmured. He wiggled a bit, and stretched, and hoped the movement masked the fact that he was adjusting himself under the blankets. As long as he kept a little distance between him and Ginny, she wouldn't ever need to know that he had a . . .

She scooted closer and hitched her leg across his hip, and Harry squeaked in surprise. The side of Ginny's thigh was nestled up against Harry's erection and he could hold back a small thrust against her. A second later, he tried to scoot away.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "Sorry. I didn't mean . . . it just kind of . . . sorry." He tried to sit up.

Ginny just clamped her leg more tightly around him. "Is that . . . I mean, are you . . .hard?" she asked, sounding both curious and shy. She wasn't moving away, and that gave Harry the courage to answer.

"Yeah, I am. I'm sorry. I swear, Ginny, I didn't plan this at all. It's just . . . sometimes my body has a mind of its own." He tried to sit up again. "I'll just go back down to sleep on the sofa, okay?" Or preferably, go find a way to get back to Hogwarts immediately, and then maybe look into transferring to another school. How bad could Durmstrang be, really?

Ginny put her hand on Harry's chest and pushed him back down. "It's okay, Harry," she said softly. There was a movement under the covers and Harry felt her hand splay across his belly, under his t-shirt. "I can't believe that you got one . . . because of me?" Her breath hitched, and in the low light coming through the window, Harry could see that Ginny's eyes were open and searching.

"But . . . Dean," he said weakly.

"Isn't here," said Ginny. "And I'd never be comfortable doing any of this with him anyway." She shrugged. "We're probably going to break up soon."

"Oh," said Harry. His brain felt sluggish. "I'm sorry."

"Are you?" asked Ginny. She sounded amused.

Harry shook his head. "No, not really."

Ginny made a hum of approval. "So, umm, can I . . . touch it?"

YES PLEASE

Harry tried to sound nonchalant, as if having Ginny ask to touch his penis was an everyday occurrence. "Umm, yeah. I'd l-l-like that," he said., unable to completely keep the stutter out of his voice.

A moment later, it didn't matter. Ginny's hand moved down from his belly until she cupped him gently through the fabric of his pajamas. Harry made a sound that would have probably embarrassed him if he'd had even half a mind to think about it, half groan and half sigh. He thrust against Ginny's hands, unable to control the way his hips wanted to move. Ginny gripped a little more firmly and Harry thrust again.

"It's firmer than I though it would be," said Ginny, and Harry detected a little wonder in her voice. "And there's . . . more of it than I expected, you know?"

Vaguely, Harry considered that at some point in the future, he was going to have to spend some time with the fact that Ginny had thought about him enough to have an expectation. For now, though, it was difficult for Harry to even remember his own name. For Ginny had moved her hand up to tease back the waistband of his pajamas and slip inside.

"Oh god, Ginny, that's . . ." Harry couldn't speak. Ginny ran a finger along his shaft and then gripped him again, skin against skin.

"Am I doing it right?" she asked shyly.

"Perfect," Harry breathed. He didn't think he'd felt anything better, ever.

"But I should move, up and down, right?" Ginny's voice was a little hesitant, but there was a hint of something else there too. "I mean," she continued. "When my brother make obnoxious hand motions, it's always up and down." Harry could hear the blush in her voice. "So, should I?"

Ginny's shyness suddenly made Harry bold. "I'll show you, yes," he said. He moved his hand down to surround hers. "Firmly, at the bottom," he said. "That's where to start." He thrust against her. "Then slowly up, but still with pressure. And then back down." He demonstrated, moving her hand along with his.

"Okay," said Ginny softly. She moved her hand up and down, and then again, and Harry groaned. She froze. "Is that wrong?"

"No," Harry grunted. He thrust into her hand again. "Keep going."

Instead, Ginny suddenly sat up crossways next to him and pushed back the blankets. "I want to use both hands," she explained. "I think it will be better."

Harry couldn't imagine anything getting better than what he was already feeling, but he wasn't about to protest. And when Ginny added her other hand, gripping him right above the first, he stopped caring about anything at all.

Ginny's hands were perfectly placed and soft and warm, and Harry felt himself start to lose control. He wanted to draw it out longer, wanted to experience as much of Ginny's hands around him as he could, wanted to see if maybe she'd let him do a little exploring of his own, but it was no use. He was on a runaway broom, no way to steer or stop until he reached the peak and fell over the other side. With a strangled cry and one last groan, Harry came, spurting over Ginny's hands and his own, flecks of white landing on his belly and chest.

Still, Ginny didn't take her hands away, and when Harry stopped panting enough to finally look at her face, she looked positively delighted at the outcome.

"That was amazing," she said in a pleased voice. "I can't believe I got you to . . . do that."

"I can't believe you let me," mumbled Harry. As feared, the heaviness of sleep was already overtaking him.

"Don't fall asleep, Harry, you need to clean up first." Ginny's voice was quite determined. "I don't know that spell yet, so you have to do it. Harry? Harry? What's the spell? My bed's all sticky. Harry? It's sticky."

Sticky.

Harry jerked awake, breathing hard, and it took him more than a few seconds to figure out where he was. He looked wildly around, half expecting to see Ginny lying next to him, but all he saw were the heavy crimson curtains that surrounded his otherwise solitary bed. It was the first day back after the Christmas holiday, and Harry had apparently "celebrated" all over the place. He ignored the mess and closed his eyes, trying to recapture the feeling of Ginny's leg over his hip and her breath in his ear. It had been so warm and cozy, lying there with her, and Sweet Merlin, had he actually dreamed that she'd given him a hand job?

The warm memories of his dream were fading rapidly, and in their place, Harry just felt rather empty and cold and yes, sticky. With a sigh, he picked up his wand and took care of most of the mess, but he knew from experience that only a proper shower and new pajamas would really make him feel clean.

He flopped back onto his pillow and threw his arm over his eyes. He'd been thinking of Ginny for a while now, but damn, this dream had been something else entirely. Extremely grateful that Ron was not a Legilimens, Harry rolled over and closed his eyes. Maybe if he was lucky, he could dream about Easter break next.