Words cannot describe what tonight has been like. I haven't been so happy and satisfied in years, if ever!
I've never experienced anything like that with Ron and never in my wildest dream, I thought it could be as it has been.
Even better than when we were seventeen! There was the heat of discoveries the "I want it all and now" back then. It had been very intense and tumultuous. Those nights are impressed vividly in my mind, and I thought very often about them afterward. I never admitted it to myself, but I think it was there I fell in love with him. I could sense it wasn't the same for him. He called me very often Ginny and the behaviour during daytime it showed anyway. So, I crushed it, I ignored it, I convinced myself I was still in love with Ron, and maybe I was, if it's possible to love two men together. But more I tried to bury it; more it was spurting out unexpectedly when I was less prepared. The nightmare of being considered just a friend, to play the role dutifully, when inside you envy every kiss, every hug he gives to his wife! I've done my best though and he had never realised. It's true he has never been too observant; a different man might have discovered it. But everything was fine until that night I lost control and I exposed myself so foolishly. I regretted it bitterly afterward. It was much better being just a friend but close to him and allowed to hope than an avowed lover, rejected and estranged.
I bear it courageously and I truly tried to forget him, but I couldn't. It would be nice to have a switch to control this kind of feelings but unfortunately, they are unmanageable.
Tonight, they had reawakened in full force. The guy makes love in a rapturous way. It seems like he is not doing it to satisfy himself but you.
When I'm with Ron, I can feel he is just partially concerned about what I'm experiencing and what I like. He is very concentrated on his pleasure and that is his goal.
But with Harry had been totally different. It seemed as if he could read my mind. He explored my body as it has never been explored before. His touch gentle when it needed to be gentle and firm when it needed to be firm. How can he have this kind of sensitivity it's beyond me. And when he was finally inside me it was just perfection. He knew when, he knew what, he knew how. I could have died any moment and still be happy.
Finally, at thirty-eight, I found out what having sex means.
I've sinned? Definitely. It is called adultery. But I couldn't care less. I feel selfish in my happiness.
The only tinge of guilt comes thinking about Ginny. But I want to hope she would forgive my feebleness. She knew Harry, she knew me. She knew how desperately I need to feel loved. And she knew how much comfort Harry needs. She would forgive me; I know she would.
And now I'm lying awake watching him sleeping and I almost feel like crying for joy.
What is it going to happen tomorrow? I don't care. What's important is the present, this moment. And right now, I'm in heaven.


I wake up in the morning and I still can't believe what has passed tonight. It resembles so much one of my daydreams that I struggle to believe it real. But it is real. Miraculously, unbelievably and joyously, it is real. A smile is on my face when I regain consciousness from my sleep. Harry's arms are wrapped tightly around me, our nakedness confirming everything without any other possible interpretation.
I open my eyes slowly savouring the moment and I'm already relishing in the cuddles I hope to get, the tenderness. I wonder what is going to happen now.
Many daydreams pop in my mind in bright flashes.
Flashes of uncommon foolishness. Because as soon as I'm awake enough, I sense that something is wrong or not as it should be.
His arms are wrapped around me, it is true. But it is not a soft embrace. He is keeping hold of me a bit too tightly, his muscles are a bit too stiff, he is a bit too tense.
And as I, more and more, regain my wits and drowsiness abandon me completely, I understand what's happening. He is far from being in the same good mood as I am, he is simply trying not to break down, that's why he is so tense. I can almost feel him quivering with the effort.
I call his name softly, but he doesn't answer. I let him hold me then, hoping that it will be of any help but, after a few minutes, sensing his distress unabating, I free myself from his arms and it's me that is embracing him. I envelop him, I let him crouch close against me, his head on my breast, I kiss it and I lull him, I smooth his abundant hair.
By degree his body loosen up, his muscles relax under my restless caresses. The pain is undiminished, however. It's all still there.
'What can I do for you? How can I help you?' I whisper to him.
He doesn't answer at first but then he does. And it's an answer I would have preferred not to hear.
'I just want it over' he says.
While warm tears are gushing out of me as a cascade, I cannot find the strength to answer.
This is not exactly the sentence one would like to hear after having made love with the cherished one nor the sensation one would like to instil.
Therefore, I cry. I cannot do anything else.