Title: Coming Home, Chapter 2, Asking the Question
Rating: PG-13
Characters/pairings: Harry/Ginny
Summary: Now that the Final Battle is over, Harry wants to pick up the pieces of the life he left behind, starting with Ginny.
Author's Notes: Plot bunny that refused to shut up. Hope it's enjoyable. Extra special thanks to my betas rosiekatriona, and sassyfrass. Constructive criticism cheerfully accepted. Praise greatly enjoyed. Flames haughtily ignored.
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"Ron! So help me, if you don't stop this instant, I'll. . . I'll. . . I'll learn the Bat-Bogey hex and use it on you!" Hermione wasn't really pleased with that threat. It lacked one of the three necessities for a good threat. Validity, of course, was the first. The threatened person had to really believe that the threatener would go through with it. Ron, of course, didn't doubt that. The second was the direness potential. It wouldn't do to threaten something innocuous; it would be like threatening to mess up Harry's hair. A Bat-Bogey Hex was definitely dire, and Ron knew it. But the third thing. . . the third thing was immediacy. If she had to wait to learn the Hex so that she could use it, then her threat really wasn't a threat-it fell into the category of Vague Promises of Postponed Retribution. And Ron had proven in the past that any threat that was less immediate than, say, dinner, wouldn't even impinge upon his consciousness.
Ron wasn't really that concerned about the so-called threat that Hermione had just issued. But the fire in her eyes as she uttered it had distracted him somewhat from his quest, and he moved down a stair. "Honestly? Hermione, you must be tireder than I thought. Do you need to take another nap?"
"No, Ronald! I do not need to take another nap. I just woke up, for Merlin's sake, and I'm not. . . not. . . " and her voice died as her mouth split open in a huge yawn. She gave up, and sat down. "Fine, I am a little tired-" Ron snickered. "-but that doesn't mean I won't Body Bind you if you bother Harry while he's sleeping!"
Ron made his way back to the sofa and sat down next to her. "But don't you worry? I mean, he's been up there for almost a whole day. He can't be that tired, can he?"
Hermione unconsciously moved closer to Ron, and he automatically lifted his arm so she could fit underneath it. "I don't know, Ron. We don't know exactly what happened out in the forest. Harry mentioned that he'd had to die, right? And, knowing Harry, that is, if anything, an understatement. Maybe being killed makes you more tired."
Ron couldn't help it. He tried, but a snicker escaped. Then a chuckle. Then a snort. Then Hermione giggled a bit, and that let loose the laughter. They laughed, and they laughed, and they laughed, and as they laughed, they found themselves, instead, crying. Crying that their best friend had had to die. Crying at the deaths of those around them. Crying at how close they had come to dying themselves.
As the sobs turned to sniffles, and the sniffles to hiccoughs, Hermione found that she really was tired, and Ron's side was rather comfortable, and she gently, quietly, slipped into a more peaceful rest than she'd had in. . . well, in quite a long time.
Ron noticed when her breathing evened out, and she started making that absolutely adorable, and very quiet, snoring. He smiled to himself-he hadn't wanted to say anything, but he'd been rather worried about Hermione. She always cared so much about Harry, about everyone, really, and he knew she hadn't had the opportunity to really rest yet. He gently moved her forward a bit, scooted over slightly, and stretched her out so she would be more comfortable.
Ron was torn. Harry had been up in the tower for an awfully long time. Sure, he was probably asleep, or maybe asleep again, but he really wished he knew for sure. He had just been planning on sneaking up the stairs and looking in at his best mate, honestly! But Hermione hadn't let him, and he supposed that he could wait. Besides, Hermione really looked like she needed sleep, and who knows who might come in and bother her? So, Ron leaned back on the couch, and turned slightly, so he could keep the stairs in his field of view, as well as Hermione's face. He would keep watch, over both of his best friends.
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Harry was very comfortable. The bed was soft, the covers warm, and there was a delicious warm weight on his right-hand side. He felt safe (which was definitely not to be discounted), and, as far as he knew, no-one was actively seeking his demise. But, he desperately needed to use the loo.
He closed his eyes again and tried to convince his body that he didn't really have to get up. It didn't work. Now that he had thought about it, he couldn't stop thinking about it. Sighing (quietly, so as not to awaken Ginny), he set about trying to worm his way out of the warm nest that they had created.
Ginny must have been rather tired too, as her only response to losing Harry's body heat was a soft murmuring that sounded like "b' na ry", which didn't make a lot of sense. Harry found his glasses, the better to stare at Ginny's hair, spread across his pillow as he'd imagined it so many times, and his wand, the better to undo the sealing charm on the curtains, and started toward the loo.
Only to stop, turn around quickly, and rummage in the pile of his disgusting, dirty, and rather rank clothing for his boxers. Now clad in the accepted manner for the boys' dorm, he made his way to the loo.
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Ginny woke slowly. Her subconscious told her she was safe, that there was no reason to wake up quickly, and she had been having the most wonderful dream. She blushed as she remembered the dream more completely, but then the events of the previous evening caught up with her, and the dream vanished behind her memories.
Now fully awake, she realized that Harry had left her alone in the bed. The depression where he had lain was cool, and she couldn't quite suppress the jolt of fear that ran through her. "Harry!" she called, looking around frantically for her wand. She called again, but there was no answer. Now fully panicked, she clambered off the bed. Not wanting to go out into the dorm room starkers, she threw on her shirt, and was just about ready to pull on her grime-encrusted pants from the previous day, when the curtains suddenly opened.
Ginny spun around, the incantation for the Stunning Spell already being formed, only to collapse in relief at seeing Harry. "Harry! Where were you? I woke up, and you were gone, and I couldn't stop thinking that you had been taken, or last night had been a dream, or. . ." and she burst into tears.
Harry was around the bed in a flash, holding Ginny close to his body, stroking her hair and muttering soothing nothings. He took a moment to notice the fact that, while a crying Cho Chang had scared him half to death, a crying Ginny in his arms made him want to protect her, and calm her, and rip apart anyone who dared make his girl cry!
Eventually Ginny calmed down enough to notice that Harry smelled much better. She also noticed that he was even less clothed than she was, which was saying something. She leaned back in Harry's arms and smiled up at him.
"I think I like you like this, Potter. Clean and naked. Was this show just for me? Or did the others get a chance to watch you streak through the dorms?"
Harry blushed mightily, and Ginny leaned back even more to see how far down his body the blush extended. It turned out that it didn't extend extremely far, but by the time she saw enough to notice that, she had seen enough to become distracted from her goal.
"It's just for you, Gin. It looks like there's nobody else on this level. In fact, I can't really hear anything from any of the floors. So, um, if you want to take a shower, I don't think anyone will notice. . ."
Ginny thought about it, she really did. But being held by a very naked, and very handsome Harry, while not wearing much of anything herself had given her other ideas. She snuggled in closer to his chest and started to gently run her hands up his arms. "Harry," she practically purred.
"Yes?" he squeaked, then cleared his throat and tried again. "What, Gin?"
"I really want to take a shower. Later. With you."
Harry's jaw dropped. Then he swallowed, swallowed again, and leaned in and kissed her.
The kiss didn't even start out innocent; it was purely sensual from the beginning, and quickly grew white-hot. How Harry managed to do it, he never knew, but he got both of them off the floor and into bed without breaking the kiss. Ginny moaned as Harry lay her down on the bed, and Harry swore to himself that as soon as possible, he'd make it so he could call her his wife.
Ginny's shirt came off rather reluctantly, as if it, too, wanted to participate, but soon enough they were clasped tightly in each other's arms, feeling of the love that surrounded them. Harry had been afraid that it would be awkward, bringing up the subject of making love, and dealing with the physical side of their relationship. But they fit together perfectly, as if each part of him was made to exactly fit each part of her, and Harry fancied he could hear a tiny click as they connected.
Even though this was only the second time they'd been able to be together in this most intimate of ways, it felt as if he were made to spend the rest of his life giving her pleasure, and receiving it in turn.
Ginny had been worried that this new level of their relationship would make Harry back off. It was pretty common knowledge that Harry had not had a good example of a proper physical relationship. And they'd probably need to talk about things later, but right now it didn't seem as though he were reluctant in any way. In fact, if he kept doing that, and then starting doing . . . and all thoughts fled as she gave herself fully to the sensations, the caring, the loving, and became one with Harry.
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This time, they didn't fall asleep right after. Harry lay on his back, Ginny on his left side, this time, with his arm around her, and her left hand over his heart. As they lay there, basking in the afterglow, Harry reached out for his glasses, which, for some reason, were tucked between the mattress and the headboard, rather than on the nightstand.
He put them on, wanting to see Ginny's face. As she came into focus, and he noticed the smile there, he smiled back at her. "Hey, you," he said gently.
She looked back up at him. "Hey, yourself."
Harry had planned on asking Ginny how she had slept, but instead found himself saying, "Thank you. Thank you for giving me the best gift anyone can give."
Ginny blushed slightly, but looked back into his eyes. "Harry, I've always only wanted you. And I've always only wanted to give it to you. Thank you for coming back to me."
Harry teared up a bit at that and squeezed her tighter. "I couldn't not come back. You were the last thing I saw before I died, and you are why I came back."
Ginny gasped at this, but calmed her emotions. They would be able to talk about the deep, serious, life-altering things later. But it was something she most decidedly did not want to discuss while lying in bed naked. Wanting to return to the lighter, or at least, more loving topics, she grinned and asked, "So, did you find any Veela while you were gone, Mr. Potter?"
Harry chuckled, and Ginny quickly put her ear against his chest-she loved hearing his happiness so close to her. "No, Gin. No Veela, no models, no girls even close to matching you in my eyes. Although, I did spend quite some time alone with Hermione. . ." He trailed off suggestively.
Ginny swatted him on the chest. "And I suppose that you both found yourselves prisoners of passion, and succumbed to your base natures, yeah?"
Harry blanched. "Eww! No, I don't know that I've ever thought of Hermione like that. By the time I noticed that girls were different than boys, she was already my sister. And besides, I wouldn't have wanted Ron to come back and kill me-he probably wouldn't even know why."
"So, I don't need to worry about you throwing me over for the resident bookworm?"
"No, Ginny. You're the only one I've ever wanted to do, well, this with," and he motioned towards their bodies, lying intertwined on the bed.
"Really? Not even with Cho?" Ginny asked, honestly wondering.
"Not even with her," Harry answered. "I thought she was very pretty-nowhere near as pretty as you-but I didn't know what to do with her, and had no idea how to handle her. You-you're different. I can be myself with you. You understand me, and you know how to deal with me. And you're so. . . perfect for me. You're beautiful, and smart, and sexy," he caressed her then, causing a thrill to run up her back. "You're it for me, Gin. You're my first, and I want you to be my last, and every one in-between."
Ginny melted at these words. She knew Harry loved her, and hoped that he loved her with the same passion she loved him. And these words had just confirmed it. She kissed his chest, then decided she wanted more. She lifted up a bit, and reached up to his cheek, wanting to stroke his face, and kiss him, and perhaps climb on top of him and see how that worked.
But as she reached her left hand towards him, his eyes focused on her fingers. He grabbed her left hand, and looked up at her with panic in his eyes. "Ginny," he said, suddenly very serious. "Why are you wearing that wedding ring?"