AN: Aloha, fellow Potter-nerds. I'm hoping for some feedback. If you like this story, let me know. If you have any criticisms or suggestions, I'd welcome those too. I've seen plenty of folks following this story, but only have two reviews thus far. As a fledgling writer (like most of us), feedback really helps. Looking forward to hearing from you. I hope the story continues to be enjoyable for you all. ~ Mahalo!
CHAPTER 9 – MAKING LOVE, MAKING PLANS
Ginny gazed lovingly into Harry's eyes, feeling her orgasm building forcefully within her, and wondering how this had come to feel so natural in such an astonishingly short period of time. Of course it helped to have complete privacy for the first time in their nearly new engagement. Further enhancing her mood was the incredible transformation that had begun at Grimmauld Place. With the assistance of a team of grateful house elves, Kreacher had managed to strip away the effects of decades of neglect, restoring the master suite, kitchen, and other key areas of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black to their original grandeur.
After ensuring that his master and soon-to-be mistress had everything they might need for the evening, Kreacher had tactfully informed them that he was needed back at Hogwarts but that he would be available via the Floo Network should they require any assistance. Ginny smiled to herself, certain that their world would be complete with only two inhabitants for the rest of the night. The feel of their brand new golden-hued Egyptian cotton sheets was almost as intoxicating as Harry's touch. Try as she might, Ginny had been unable to suppress the joy of experiencing such simple luxuries for the first time in her life.
"Almost as intoxicating as Harry's touch? Have I lost my mind?" Ginny wondered silently, as she turned her full attention back to her partner.
By rotating her hips at the beginning of each downward thrust, Ginny had learned that she could hit that spot without losing any contact with her clit. The combined effect was absolutely heavenly, and whenever he would stare up at her with such obvious love and devotion, as he was now doing, it was almost too intense for words. She could feel her interior muscles beginning to contract, clinching Harry tightly inside her. As his movements became more exaggerated beneath her, Ginny knew she was bringing him close to the same precipice she was rapidly approaching.
"Not … yet, P … Potter," she stammered, her voice sounding more ferocious than she had intended. She liked the effect she saw in Harry's eyes, however, so she decided to go with the flow. "Don't you dare finish yet!"
"But, Ginny, it's too good," he gasped before pressing his lower lip forcefully between his teeth.
Watching him make such a superhuman effort for her benefit touched Ginny's heart in a way she couldn't explain, but it was enough to send her spiraling to new heights of physical fulfillment.
"Oh, God!" she screamed, as wave after blissful wave crashed over her body, radiating from her center but shaking her from head to toe. For a few moments she couldn't focus, but soon thereafter, she was able to make out the contours of Harry's face, which showed clearly that he was still fighting to maintain control. She smiled warmly down at him, unable to suppress the soft giggle that escaped between moans.
"Now, baby … come, now!"
She watched contentedly as Harry's teeth relaxed the grip they had held on his lip, and a guttural groan burst suddenly from him. The effect was intoxicating, bringing forth yet another orgasm from somewhere deep within her. Ginny could have sworn that this one had come from her heart, although that couldn't be possible … or could it?
"I love you, baby," she whispered.
"More than anything," he answered. "More than life, itself."
Silence fell over them as Ginny reflected on what Harry had just said. "More than life, itself." She allowed the words to turn over repeatedly in her mind. The phrase was powerful, so powerful that Ginny found it surprising that she accepted everything it implied without doubt.
"Ginny … love?" The upward inflection told her that Harry was beginning a question. "Do you understand … now … why I came after Bellatrix instead of Voldemort?"
"Yes, Harry," she answered. "Yes, I do."
Ginny had understood the pervasive need to protect the one she loved the moment Draco and Pansy appeared behind Harry's back during Fred's funeral.
She understood that she had only a split second to act, for if Malfoy meant to make another attempt upon Harry's life, even a moment of hesitation could spell the difference between life and death for the man she loved more than life itself. So she had taken action, stunning Draco without warning. She had also been prepared to do the same to Pansy Parkinson, but Kreacher had obviously come to the same conclusion. Acting together, Ginny and Kreacher had neutralized the threat against Harry, choosing to hex first and ask questions later.
"You were brilliant, you know that?" Harry said as he reached up to stroke her face reverently.
"Kingsley didn't seem to think so," she answered, still clutching Harry's slowly softening penis within her.
"Kingsley didn't know that Malfoy tried to kill me the last time we saw each other," replied Harry, "or that he hadn't given Hermione, Ron, or me the courtesy of a warning."
"I still don't understand why you didn't insist that he be arrested," Ginny added.
"I only asked Kingsley to let him go because his mother saved my life while I was in the Forbidden Forest. If she hadn't lied to Voldemort, I don't know how things would have ended."
"Well, Draco," said Lucius softly, "all things considered, I think that went even better than I could have dreamed of."
"Better?" asked Draco. Everything about his appearance bore witness to his depressed state of being. "I was thoroughly embarrassed, Father, but you think it went perfectly?"
"Perfectly," replied Lucius. "I can't imagine a better way to put Potter and the Weasleys on the defensive than for them to wrongfully attack an unarmed guest."
"I wasn't unarmed, Father. I had my wand with me, as you well know."
"Don't be so literalistic, Draco. My point was that you were doing nothing threatening, and Arthur Weasley's daughter attacked you."
"It was completely unprovoked, which left them in the position of having to apologize to you."
"Neither Potter nor the Weasley girl apologized for anything, Father," said Draco. "In fact, Potter seemed pretty pleased with his child bride."
"So, you have confirmed that Harry Potter is, in fact, getting married to that silly little girl?" asked Lucius.
"Oh, yes," answered Draco. "That's about all anyone wanted to talk about after the funeral."
"Rather ironic, don't you think," asked Lucius, "all that fuss about Mudbloods and Muggles, and Potter goes off and gets engaged to a pureblood?"
"The Weasley girl is a blood-traitor, just like her parents," interjected Malcolm Parkinson.
"Ginny," said Pansy, speaking at last.
"What?" asked her father.
"Ginny. Her name is Ginny, not 'the Weasley girl.' Have you people been listening to yourselves?" said Pansy, a flush of anger spreading across her cheeks.
"Since when have you cared about the Weasley girl?" asked Draco.
"I don't care about her, but you're the one who said we needed to be careful of her, Draco. Now you're talking about her as if she isn't even a person, when she just kicked your ass."
"You're one to talk!" replied Draco. "Flattened by a house elf!"
"Now, now, children," interrupted Lucius, "play nicely."
Draco and Pansy glared across the table at one another, each wondering how things had gone so sour between them. They had been getting on fairly well until they were attacked by Ginny and Kreacher. More than anything else, Draco's pride had been seriously wounded, especially when he woke from the attack to find Ginny standing over him, holding not only her own wand, but his new Hawthorne wand as well. Pansy had not been Stupefied but had immediately surrendered her wand when it had been requested by Ron Weasley.
The experience had been humiliating, to say the least, but Pansy realized that that had been the point all along. They had been instructed to make amends with Potter and the Weasley family, and while seven years worth of damage could not have been overcome in one afternoon, it was a beginning. At least it appeared they had been well received by everyone other than Harry and Ginny. It was evident that Harry Potter would never like or trust Draco Malfoy, but what Harry thought wouldn't matter if Lucius's plans were successful.
"So, tell me more of what you learned," instructed Lucius, breaking the uncomfortable silence that had developed around the Malfoy's conference table.
"I overheard an interesting conversation between Potter and Kingsley Shacklebolt," said Pansy. "Apparently Shacklebolt offered Potter the chance to head up the new Auror department."
"Yes, I had heard that rumor," said Lucius. "What did he say to the Minister?"
"Potter told him he was going to return to Hogwarts to finish his education and teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. Shacklebolt seemed unhappy with the decision but told Potter that he would think about holding the job open – but only for the one year."
"Very interesting," said Lucius. "And the others?"
"Ron Weasley and the Mudblood are going to Australia to find her parents," interjected Draco. Apparently she sent them away while she was helping Potter fight against the Dark Lord."
"And the wedding? Have they set a date?" asked Malcolm Parkinson.
"Saturday, the sixth of June. The day after my birthday," answered Draco. "At least that's what I heard Mrs. Weasley tell some old hag she called 'Aunt Muriel.' She practically had to scream it at the old bat in order for her to hear it. Apparently Potter and the Weasley girl don't want to waste any time."
"I guess not," replied Lucius. "That gives us less than two weeks to put our plans in place."
"You're going to attack Potter on his wedding day?" asked Draco.
"Can you think of an occasion when they might be more distracted?" asked Lucius. "With the fall of the Dark Lord and a family celebration to organize, when do you think they might be less on guard? Add to that the fact that Potter's sidekicks will be traveling out of the country, and I suspect there will be little attention paid to security."
"But surely they will be back for the wedding," objected Draco.
"Surely," agreed Lucius. "But they won't be here for the preparations. Who will be left to think about security? Dumbledore is dead, and so are Moody, Nymphadora Tonks, and the werewolf, Lupin. The rest of the Weasleys will be moving straight from a funeral to a wedding, so they will be distracted. I can't imagine a better setting for a surprise attack."
"But even if you are successful in killing Potter, how do you plan to take control so soon?"
"I don't plan to take control, Draco. Not yet. I only plan to take control of the Elder Wand. As long as no one knows that it is I who killed Harry Potter, I can seize the Wand of Destiny and be its rightful master. Then I can take my time and do things the right way. The Dark Lord became distracted by his personal quest for immortality. That was his downfall. My goal is simpler – to protect wizard-kind against destruction from within."
"And how will you manage that, Father?" asked Draco.
"In stages, Son. We start first by seizing power. With the unbeatable wand, I can rally those who have been sympathetic to our cause but lacked the courage to become Death Eaters. Once they realize that I cannot be defeated, we can build a coalition of witches and wizards who do not want to see magical blood diluted by mixing with Muggles and Mudbloods. We inspire people with respect for their heritage, and we teach them to fear the dangers of further diluting our genetic heritage."
"Are there enough purebloods left to make your plan feasible?" Draco said, doubt etched in every word.
"Of course not. But we don't have to start with purebloods, alone. Didn't you see how people turned on one another once we gained control of the ministry? People were desperately trying to prove their own magical heritage, as long as they could show they weren't Mudbloods."
"And you expect that to happen again?" asked Draco, skepticism evident in his tone of voice.
"Of course. It has happened countless times through history, magical and Muggle, and we can depend on people to act the same way again. They want safety and security, so we can count on them with complete certainty. We simply need to know how and where to draw the line."
"But Voldemort just failed. What makes you think you can succeed with the same strategy when he failed?"
"The Dark Lord was too distant from his followers – too disagreeable to the population at large. He scared away those he needed. His primary motivational tool was fear, so he had two groups of natural enemies. There were zealots like Potter and the Weasleys, who do not believe it is important to protect the purity of Wizarding blood. They actively approve of intermingling with Mudbloods and Muggles. We will never win over the zealots. However, the Dark Lord also alienated those who lacked the stomach to deal with his methods."
"So you intend to put a prettier face on the same plan."
"Exactly, Draco. People don't want to see ugliness, no matter how necessary it is to accomplish a worthy objective – not even when it is for their own good."
Pansy had been sitting quietly, taking in everything being exchanged between father and son. The plan was remarkably simple, really. Lucius Malfoy intended to simultaneously take control of the most powerful wand in the world while eliminating the central rallying figure for the opposition.
"You know what?" said Pansy. "I think your plan can work, Mr. Malfoy."
"So, how do we get to Australia?" asked Ron, slipping an arm around Hermione.
"I think we'll have to fly," she answered, shifting her head against the orange pillow in order to gaze directly in Ron's piercing blue eyes. She was still amazed that he was determined to accompany her on the journey to find her parents and bring them back home to England.
"Fly?" asked Ron, shock evident on his face. "I thought you hated flying."
"Oh, Ronald, don't be silly," she said teasingly. "I mean we'll have to fly on an airplane like Muggles do. It's the only dependable way to travel long distances in a short period of time."
"Can't we just Apparate?"
"You know Apparition isn't dependable over long distances. In all honesty, I think we were testing the practical limits by hopping all over Britain for the last year. Even if we could manage to jump from country to country, ignoring all the laws against international Apparition, we would still have to cross far too much open ocean to reach Australia."
"So, we travel like Muggles? How do we do that?"
"I spoke with Kingsley this afternoon, and he said he can arrange Muggle passports for us by tomorrow. The Ministry of Magic has arrangements with the Muggle Prime Minister for such things."
"How do we pay for the trip?"
"When Mum and Dad agreed to have their memories modified, they moved some money into a bank account for me. We have enough cash to get us down there and bring all of us back, with plenty to spare."
"You're amazing, Hermione, really you are. We'd have all been dead in the first few days if it hadn't been for you. Harry and I would have been hopeless on our own," said Ron, gratitude ringing clearly through every word.
"It took all of us in the end – all three of us, plus Neville, and everyone who fought at Hogwarts. But we did it Ron! We fought to the end, and we survived. We survived, and we have each other," said Hermione, a single tear escaping from her eye as she leaned toward the only man she had ever wanted.
Ron responded enthusiastically, accepting her kiss and deepening it immediately. Electricity flared through her body, causing her to arch firmly against him. She was glad that she had been careful to cast the customary silencing charms upon the room.
It was true that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had accepted her relationship with Ron as readily as they had accepted Harry and Ginny's engagement, but still, Hermione felt like they should spare Ron's parents from too much exposure to exactly how well she and Ron were getting along with things.
Of course there had been no question that Ron and Hermione would be sharing a bed on the night following Fred's funeral. She needed to be with him, to feel whole and alive once again. She knew that Ron felt the same way, only more so. Hermione had watched his mood darken progressively as the time inched closer to the appointed hour when Fred was to be buried. No matter how many friends and acquaintances arrived unexpectedly to pay their respects, nothing could mitigate the pain that accompanied such a loss.
As an only child, Hermione realized that she had no basis for comparison – no basis, other than her remarkable relationship with Harry Potter.
Hermione wasn't sure when, exactly, she had come to think of Harry as her brother. She often reflected upon her lengthy relationship with him, knowing that she loved him intensely, yet realizing from the very beginning that she had never been romantically attracted to him. But she knew that she would do anything for Harry; give anything for him – even her life – which she had risked for him on numerous occasions. It was a relationship that was as close to having a sibling as Hermione could possibly imagine. However, there had been almost twelve years before she had met Harry – such a long period of time when her world had been comprised of only her parents and herself. In stark contrast, Ron had never lived a day without Fred as a significant person in his life.
She also realized that comparisons weren't important. She had not lost Harry, although there had been that awful time when she had thought Voldemort had killed him. Of course, Ron had shared the same awful feeling, for he was as much Harry's brother as she was his sister. But Ron had lost Fred. He had endured that searing pain that had to cut to the very core of his being. Yet he still had several saving graces: he had the rest of his family, with whom he shared a life-long bond of love and affection; he had Harry; and he had Hermione. That grace lay with her, and she intended to pour every ounce of her love, every ounce of her being, into Ron's recovery.
So she lifted her head once again from her pillow and gazed into his remarkable blue eyes, willing every bit of the love she felt for him to radiate through her own eyes. She pulled against his body, closing the slight distance that lay between them, thankful that they hadn't bothered to wear pajamas, feeling their souls merge as the softness of her breasts pressed against the hardness of his muscular chest. At last, her lips were once again on his, her tongue seeking entry into his mouth as her left leg slid over him, with nothing between them.
Ron moaned as his lips parted, eliciting the same reaction from Hermione. She could feel his desperation for her in the way his arms enveloped her and in the rock hard erection that pressed hungrily against her inner thigh. Placing her left arm around his shoulder, Hermione pulled herself completely on top of him, never breaking their kiss. Her right hand crept between them, her fingers sifting through the fine red hairs on his chest, her thumb tracing circles over his rapidly hardening left nipple.
At last, she withdrew from his lips and began tracing gentle kisses down his throat. As he groaned in response, she scooted down his body, her kisses trailing farther southward until her lips settled where her thumb had been, and her tongue began to lave his nipple firmly. Apparently Ron liked what she was doing, for his hips began to thrust upward, seeking her center, obviously longing to enter her as he had done so frequently since Voldemort had been killed.
Encouraged by Ron's movements and seeking to feel him in a way she had yet to experience, Hermione slid farther down against his body each time he thrust upward until she captured his cock between her breasts. The feeling was amazingly erotic and only intensified when she instinctively pressed her arms against her sides, strengthening her hold on his penis and increasing the pressure against his throbbing balls. She had no idea where the thought had come from, only that she was enjoying it immensely.
It was equally clear that Ron was caught up in the experience, as his thrusts began to take on a sense of increased urgency. She wondered what it must feel like for him – the inverse of what she was feeling – his masculine hardness pressed fiercely against the soft fullness of her femininity. The thought further enflamed her passion, making her ache for something more. Finally, when it seemed that he was nearing his climax, and when his thrusts forced farther upward, she knew what she wanted to do – what she simply had to do.
As Ron lurched forward, moaning in his excitement, Hermione slipped even lower against his body, clasping his erection in the palm of her right hand while slipping her lips completely over the throbbing purple head of his cock. She stroked her tongue firmly over the sensitive underside of his penis.
"No, Hermione!" screamed Ron frantically. "I can't hold back."
But Hermione had no desire for him to hold back, so she took him even deeper into her mouth, sucking fiercely while continuing to stroke him with her tongue. She had no idea how or why she knew what she wanted to do, only that it felt so incredibly right. Ron's protestations ceased instantly, replaced by a primal cry as his orgasm burst forth within her.
Hermione swallowed deeply and redoubled her efforts, elated to feel him pulsing forcefully within her as he continued to come. She had never before felt so powerful, knowing that she had brought him to yet another place he had never been before, had perhaps never dared to imagine. She felt alive, as if death could have no power over her, and prayed that Ron was feeling much the same thing.
She had no idea whether Ron's climax lasted minutes or only a moment, but it mattered not. The sensation was equally as powerful as the first time she had taken him inside her center, even though this orgasm had been only for him. However long it took, she eventually felt his strong arms pulling her upward until his lips engulfed her own and his tongue was upon hers, and he was kissing her more passionately than he had ever done before.
She found her hand reaching to grasp his penis once again, surprised to find it already hardening between her fingers. His kisses grew hungrier as his cock filled her hand until he gently rolled her onto her back and came to rest between her thighs. She reached quickly for her wand which rested upon Ron's nightstand and cast the contraceptive charm as Ron began to slide smoothly between her drenched labia.
Every nerve ending felt electrified, as Hermione was still flushed with excitement from what she had just done. She felt every detail as the thick head of his penis pressed inside her, followed soon thereafter by the flick of the ridge as it passed into her. She shifted her hips forward, pressing her clit against his shaft, shuddering noticeably as he slid slowly in and out of her, repeating the motions, each thrust causing powerful sensations to build within her. She had never yet felt Ron exercise such control during intercourse, and the intensity was becoming overwhelming, so Hermione made a mental note to make sure that she brought him to an early climax again in the very near future.
Each time Ron withdrew, he brought his cock almost entirely free from her opening, stretching her repeatedly to receive him anew with each thrust forward. Hermione was beginning to feel lightheaded when suddenly her orgasm crested within her and crashed upon her with amazing force. Her interior muscles clamped upon him while she waited for the familiar feeling of his following release. However, it didn't come as she had anticipated, and instead, Ron continued to thrust rhythmically inside her as he shifted into a more vertical position to maintain pressure against her clit. For a moment, Hermione shrank away from him, needing to reduce the pressure, but he apparently failed to understand what she wanted to do because he pursued her immediately, moving once again to maximize contact against her clit. Hermione was shocked when her body erupted with another strong orgasm, this one literally curling her toes.
"Please, Ron, slow down," she begged as the waves continued to crash down upon her so intensely that she thought she would come apart at the seams.
Ron responded immediately, coming to a halt within her as the pounding inside of her finally began to subside in the tiniest of increments. She opened her eyes to see the stress on his face as he struggled to be still within her.
Eventually she realized that the throbbing feeling within her had ceased to come from her own muscles but radiated from his cock instead.
"Okay, love," she whispered, "you can move now."
So he resumed, slowly at first, before settling back into a comfortable rhythm. Hermione found the action to be pleasantly comfortable as he did, but soon the tension began to build within her once again.
She was overwhelmed by the thought of another orgasm, but Ron's slow, strong rhythmic thrusts soon had her anxiously anticipating her next climax. She had become so focused on her own feelings that she was shocked when he shuddered suddenly as he came inside her with a throaty cry.
Disappointment flared within her as she pressed desperately against him, trying to bring herself to orgasm while his penis shrank rapidly inside her.
"Damn!" she practically shouted in frustration as Ron's spent body withdrew from her, unable to take any more stimulation. Without thinking about it, she reached her hand into the opening that had formed between them as Ron pulled away.
Apparently he noticed what she was doing, because he reached out and took her hand in his, pushing it away from her throbbing, frustrated clit.
Embarrassment flushed through her as he held her hand in place while sliding farther away from her opening.
"You don't need to do that," he whispered, smiling brightly up at her.
It took her only a moment to understand what Ron had in mind. As she had been thinking about her frustration, Ron had slipped down her body, much as she had done for him earlier. It took only a moment until she felt his lips settle upon her and his tongue slip between her lower lips. Hermione started to object, knowing that he had just emptied himself into her, but his enthusiasm quickly silenced her thoughts.
Ron was obviously struggling to restrain himself, perhaps trying only to avoid hurting her, for she had never before felt him ravishing her so thoroughly. He was literally shaking as he alternately sucked on her clit, then ran his tongue inside her labia before flicking it over her engorged nub. She came hard, calling his name while shuddering repeatedly against him.
Ron moaned against her, driving her further into ecstasy. At last she was forced to retreat from his eager attention, giggling as he followed her, obviously reluctant to stop.
"I love you, Ronald," she murmured as he slid up beside her.
"Why?" he responded with a cheeky grin. "Because I'm magnificent in bed?"
"Among other reasons, yes," she answered, "but mainly because you've always been my hero."
"Your hero?" he asked, astonished.
"Yes, from the time you rescued me from the mountain troll until you insisted on coming to Australia, you've always thought of me first."
"That's always seemed natural, Hermione, probably because I've always been in love with you.
