AN- There was a recent request for a Sequel to Comfort Food (Chapter 6) as seen from Harry's eyes.

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Craving Comforts

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There were so many eyes on him, so many hands reaching, mouths moving in his direction. All he could hear was a dull droning that was growing louder, he could see the wall of sound that was coming at him and he braced for the impact of it. Through the crowd of people, the same people that demanded that he be put on this soap box he was on, he could see the wave. It shimmered as it grew, the wave was made of a thin layer of anxiety, and as he turned around and around to see if there was a way to avoid it, somewhere to run, he realized that he had no way to escape, it was coming at him from all sides, and there were too many people.

He couldn't make out the individual words any of them were shouting, but they were shouting, and so he couldn't respond even if he wanted to; and he didn't want to.

The wave continued to grow and it started to push in toward him faster. He threw his arms up as some last effort to brace for the impact and let out a strangled gasp when he was mere seconds from being hit.

But the wave never hit.

And the gasp he gave was enough to wake him from that nightmare.

Harry found himself sitting up from his bed in the dark of his old dorm room, just how he always used to do when he had a bad dream.

It took a minute to remember how he got here, or when it was. Waking up like this, in this exact spot, was causing such a strong sense of deja vu that he could not for the life of him remember his age at present, or what day it was.

Ron was snoring in the bed next to him. The familiar sound of that was causing his racing heart to quiet down some. But then he strained his ears to listen for the other boys in his dorm and could only make out the soft breath sounds and accompanying slight nose whistle of Hermione that he had grown used to from the confines of the canvas tent.

Now he remembered.

It was May 3rd, the day after the battle.

And he was all in one piece.

He'd come out of it alive.

Save for those few minutes that he was dead anyhow.

The nightmare about being on the soap box made sense now; with the threat of Voldemort hanging over him for the last seven years now being gone, it meant everyone was going to want to know the whole story and he was not ready to give it. He didn't want to tell the story, not now, not so soon after everything had happened. He'd made so many mistakes and so many people had died that could have been prevented.

They were all going to want him to talk; him and Ron and Hermione.

He was too anxious now thinking about next steps that he knew he wasn't going to be able to get back to sleep, so he got out of bed and headed to the bathroom. A decent shower was like to make things worlds better.

All the shower proved to do was its main function though; it made him clean. The hot water felt nice, the bar of soap being rubbed all over him was certainly necessary and he was grateful for it, but it didn't stop him from thinking again and again of his dream and all the other many ways that people would be coming at him for information.

He walked back into the dorm room and found his wand so he could use it to search for clothes that would fit him. The feel of his Holly and Phoenix feather wand in his hand again was a great comfort, it felt so much more right than the Elder Wand ever would. He'd made the right choice in destroying the Elder Wand, power led to nothing but the temptation for more power, and he didn't want more power.

Seamus had left his things in the room, and though they weren't the exact same size, the clothes were clean and soft.

But now what?

He was dressed, but it was still dark outside.

Harry went to the window to look down. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust and realize he wasn't just looking at the Hogwarts grounds anymore, he was looking at a battlefield, one that was still being cleaned up. There were still people moving around down there, in small groups, carrying… things.

He turned away from the window when he realized what was being carried.

He should have stayed down there and helped with that. Instead he ran from it with Ron and Hermione, again, then went to bed. He'd opted for a nice rest instead of sticking around to honor everyone who had lost their lives while he was the primary target and still had his life ahead of him.

His stomach gave a grumble, and that gave him a start.

When was the last time he'd eaten? For the life of him he couldn't remember.

There was a chance that no one would be in the kitchens, maybe he could slip through unnoticed.

Or maybe he could use his Invisibility Cloak, a mocking voice told him in the back of his mind.

He went to his bed and reached for the cloak, which was still in pristine condition, even after all it had been through. It was impervious to dirt and time, always silky smooth. That was another comfort to him.

There were a few people in the Gryffindor Common Room, some sleeping, some simply staring off in a daze, but no one noticing or hearing him. The Fat Lady was fully open, Harry imagined all the entrances to the Houses were wide open right now so no one had to think in order to get some respite.

Here and there on his way down to the kitchen he saw people, but mostly it was just the House Elfs that were working fastidiously to clean up and right the castle. It seemed wrong how quickly they were making progress though. There was taking pride in your work and then there was erasing the evidence. Harry wasn't sure why he felt there should be a mourning period where even the school shouldn't be cleaned, he just felt that it should have taken longer.

When he reached the kitchens he didn't know what felt more wrong; the fact that all the House Elfs were working so hard to put Hogwarts back to the way it was, or the fact that not a single one was left in the kitchens.

There had always been nearly twenty Elfs in the kitchen that would close in around him asking what they could get for him, now the entire room was his alone.

It was probably for the best though, if they were in here and closing in around him then it would have brought to mind his dream again.

He made for the first cupboard and found it to be full of desserts. He took a cake square and popped it into his mouth, but it was too sweet. He swallowed it and kept searching for something else, something with substance. At the third station he found the makings of several different kinds of sandwiches and made two for himself.

The Ravenclaw table was where he'd dropped his cloak when he came in, so he sat there and started in on his first sandwich. He'd gone hungry before, when living with the Dursleys and when they would run out of food in the tent, so him not having kept track of when and where he'd had his last meal felt normal, his body had adjusted to not being fed properly for days at a time.

That was a bad thing.

He was too thin. And he exerted himself too much not to have a proper diet. Maybe he needed a new wardrobe too. And he needed to finish school.

And a new owl, he thought sadly.

But he could actually plan for a future now, that was something he hadn't been able to do for a long time. He was going to have a future, with his friends and a job and playing Quidditch.

And maybe with Ginny.

He missed her so much. Seeing her dot on the Marauders Map both gave him comfort and was like a knife to his heart. When he let her out of the Room of Requirement he hadn't had time to process how he was throwing her into the fight but now he was thinking about it and it terrified him. He'd heard her scream when Voldemort announced he was dead, that hurt him too, just to think about what she might have been feeling to hear that.

She was okay though. She was alive, he knew that.

The time they'd spent together had been the happiest he'd ever been in his life. She'd been so understanding when he had to break it off, 'for noble reasons', as she'd said. And then there was their last kiss last summer. Nine months since he'd last been able to touch her, he longed to do it again; but who knew when he'd get the chance or if she'd even let him now.

There was a noise and the air pressure in the room shifted slightly as the portrait swung open to let someone in, Harry felt his whole body tense up before his eyes met hers.

For a moment he didn't know if he'd drifted off to sleep or had somehow summoned her here with his thoughts, but there she was; looking exhausted with dirt on her face and in her hair, appearing just as surprised as he was to find them in the same room.

She was still just as beautiful as he remembered, maybe even more so now.

They stared at each other for a moment, he didn't know if he should offer her the rest of his sandwich, she was clearly hungry and tired. Before he could gather up the words to ask she turned and went towards the cupboards across the room, heading directly for one in particular, and pulled out a container of ice cream.

It took all he had not to crack a grin at her choice, initially he was amused by the whimsical idea of midnight, or whatever time it was, ice cream. The craving for it didn't extend from a whimsical place though, it was because she was craving comforts.

She brought it over to his table and sat down beside him and started eating one small mouthful at a time. Seeing her licking the spoon nearly did him in and he had to look away. He turned back to his own food and concentrated at finishing the sandwich. He was parched by the time he ate the last piece of bread, he hadn't thought to grab something to drink with it and hadn't realized just how dry his throat was becoming until she was sitting beside him, making him self-conscious.

Ginny nudged the ice cream over to him and offered her spoon.

Ice cream would make his throat feel much better. He reached over to take her offered spoon as well and their hands met, causing them to make eye contact once again.

Her gorgeous chocolate brown eyes and full lips, the line of her jaw, the set of it, even her hands were perfect. She was perfect, perfect for him. There were only a few things that he considered truly 'his', his wand, his invisibility cloak, that about summed it up in terms of his most precious possessions. But then there was 'his' Ginny, the one he'd gotten to know so intimately around this time last year. How had it been nearly a full year already since he'd first kissed her? And why had it taken him so long to do so? He should have asked her to ditch Dean the first moment he realized what it was he felt for her, there were months of time they could have spent together before he had to leave and he'd wasted them.

He didn't want to waste anymore time dancing around the prospect of being together again.

His hand dropped the spoon and he wrapped it around the back of her neck and pulled her closer, meeting her half way to kiss those perfect lips of hers again.

Hmm, chocolate.

She tasted slightly of the ice cream, and it had made her lips cool to the touch, which was a marvelous combination. He wanted to drink her in, in that moment he wanted the two of them to fuse together and never let go. Her mouth opened slightly and he dove right into it with is tongue, searching for the taste of more chocolate. Ginny was clutching at him now, pulling herself against him, then somehow coming to sit on his lap. He moaned at the feel of her there, at the sensation of her fingers running through his hair, of how she moved her hips and cried out against his mouth. His mind grew hazy with desire for her, all he wanted was to be closer, to have more of her.

She appeared to have the same feelings as she swiped their dishes aside and pulled him onto the table to lay down with her. He felt like he was drowning, taking gasping breaths between their frantic kisses, and he couldn't stop. This was months of suppressed longing coming to a head and he didn't want to reign himself in, instead he wanted to bury himself inside her and never let her go.

As her hand reached down to his trousers he seized the opportunity to do the same. They'd been so responsible for so long, he wanted to forget it all and simply live in the moment with her. Feeling her shucking off not just her trousers, but her knickers too had him feeling like he might explode right then and there, then her legs wrapped around him and drew him in closer; he didn't recall taking off his own trousers and pants, but the feeling of his bare cock gliding against the smooth skin of her thigh he sure noticed. She wasn't stopping this, and he damned sure wasn't going to stop this from happening either. It amazed him how he just seemed to know what to do next, he'd seen pornography and imagined this moment, but he'd never come this close, previously the farthest they'd gone was when his hand found its way under her bra while they were snogging by the lake and even that nearly had him going off in his pants.

He grasped himself, still not letting their lips part for even a moment as he drew small circles against her center with the head of his cock, thrusting forward ever so slightly, still giving her a chance to stop this, which she didn't, so he sunk into her more, and more, and more, drawing back each time before pushing himself farther into her. He'd never experienced anything so blissful in his life. He could feel her squeezed around nearly every inch of his cock before she locked her legs tighter around him and forced him to fully sheath himself inside her. Being completely inside her, his balls pressed right against her as well, he was amazed he was managing to last; yet she had winced.

He stopped, unsure what to do now. He'd heard about virgins losing their 'maidenhead', was that what had happened? Had it hurt her? He thought he'd felt some kind of resistance give away well before he was this deep in. Or maybe his cock had simply caused her some pain because it was large? It was a hopeful thought. It was supposed to feel good for both parties but seeing as she was the one getting impaled by his foreign object, something he was eager to do again and again right now, he'd let her tell him to continue or not.

He felt her relax and his eyes opened to see she was staring up at him.

At some point they'd stopped kissing, likely when she'd tensed up, which meant now there was enough space between them that he could see her properly, and she didn't look to be in pain anymore. She was the first to move, sliding herself up slightly and then rocking back down, his eyes closed from the sensation, it felt so good! It was no wonder some people were so obsessed with sex. He'd usually been too preoccupied most of the time to think much about it, not that he never did, he just never seemed to be as obsessed with it as his dorm mates. Now he got it; shagging Ginny in the kitchen is what wet dreams are made of.

They started moving together faster and this primitive need grew inside him to take her harder. He gripped her hip with one hand, wanting to pistol in and out of her as quickly as his body could manage, but she was stopping it. She wrapped her legs around him and forced him to slow down, changing their pace to what she wanted, essentially locking him in and holding him close as she ground against him, the movement causing his dick to stir around in side her like a spoon in tea; which also felt a whole other kind of amazing. Then the pressure he felt inside her, it grew and pulsed, he heard her suck in rapid deep breaths and shiver with her movements. He opened his eyes to watch what was happening to her. She was about to cum, he realized. Her breath hitched and her back arched then he felt this vice like grip inside her and when she relaxed he could tell that thrusting into her again would be much smoother.

Her legs relaxed and he stared at her as his body took over again, thrusting into her again after that felt even more incredible, and he wasn't going to last long. He stared at her face as he thrust, watching the way she bit her bottom lip and imagining what it would feel like if she was biting his shoulder from passion, the image of her doing that sent him over the edge.

He shot off inside her and it zapped all the energy he had out of him.

He buried his face in her neck and wished they could just fall asleep together right there, thankfully, she had more sense of mind than him and gave him a nudge, telling him it was time they put their clothes back on.

This whole experience was rushed, incredibly fulfilling, but rushed. He rose up onto his elbows and looked down at her, hoping he wouldn't find any regret in her eyes, and he didn't. She looked tired and satisfied, and beautiful. He leaned down to kiss her once more, slowly and softly, before they separated.

With his pants and trousers back on he stood beside the table, not sure what they were supposed to do now. Ginny decided for him with that signature teasing smirk of hers and pulled him down to sit on the bench with her again, pulling the carton of ice cream that had been pushed out of their way back toward them and offered him the spoon.

He smiled, he never did get any straight from the carton yet, only what he had managed to lick off her. The first spoonful coated his parched throat very nicely. He returned the favor as she snuggled in against him.

They stayed that way, trading spoonful's, until the carton was empty.

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