The Boy Who Lived (hjpotter) wrote in riddikulus,
@ 2008-03-31 17:58:00

Who: Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley
When: Monday night at six
Where: No. 12, Grimmauld Place
What: Just call it...Their First Time.
Rating: R and above.
Status: Complete!

Harry shifted a bit. He had been sitting there on the fourth stair for about fifteen minutes, even though they had decided on six o'clock. But he had already checked everything for supper ten times, he had remade the bed twice to get all the linens and blankets folded back just perfectly, he had even fluffed each pillow on the living room sofa, as if that mattered, but it was something to do. It was like his body was stuffed full of bells, struck hard and vibrating. His hands were trembling, his ears were ringing, his mouth dry and tongue coated metallic.

He ran a hand over his newly shorn hair. Walking into the muggle barber shoppe in Camden, he was Harry Potter, with the shaggy black mane. Harry wanted out a different looking person altogether with his close-cropped hair; though his scar was on display for all to see, he barely recognised himself in the mirror without that cloud of dark hair. He looked like someone who could walk right through Diagon Alley without being stopped every two feet for an autograph, for a handshake, for applause and offers of free drinks and sweets and books and everyone, everyone seeing him and knowing him and touching him, as if he belonged to everyone and everyone's uncle, but not himself. Staring in the mirror at this newly shorn Harry, he didn't see the famous Harry Potter staring back. How would anyone else?

Would she like it? Would it turn her off? Would she take one look and disapparate right away from him?

I've been waiting for this for - and just because I walked out of the bloody Market and saw this place and I was so fed up about the stares and the attention - if she thinks its dodgy, I can always charm it back, right? I can do that, right? He used to without thinking of it when he was young -

A crack, the loud clap that signaled apparating. Harry practically leapt to the floor, wiping his sweaty palms on his cords and picked up the flowers he had bought her, running that hand over his head once more.

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ginnyweasley
2008-04-04 02:48 am UTC (link)

She watched his face move from shock to panic to bliss in the course of a few seconds.

It took her a moment to move past her own feelings of bemusement, of not feeling anything that could match those faces and noises of his, the way he flopped down on top of her and panted, to realise--this was because of her.

Not too shabby.

And besides...Harry was so far inside of her heart...and for these past few minutes, he physically climbed his way near that place deep under her heart that had always been his property, even before he claimed it as his own.

She'd take that, for starters.

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hjpotter
2008-04-04 02:58 am UTC (link)

On one hand, Harry felt guilty because clearly this was better for him than it was her.

On the other hand - that was the most incredible physical feeling, better than Felix, better than - good God in heaven. I can't feel my feet.

Harry tried to get his breath back, sliding a kiss on her shoulder as he rolled with her into a cuddle, Ginny wrapping her arms around him as he laid on his back, their chests pressed together so close, her heart was echoing under his ribs. I have never felt so close to you. I want to feel that way all the time.

As soon as he got his breath and his energy - and the feeling in his feet - he was going to give her this same feeling, or the best he could do until he got better at the sex thing; he would kiss his way down her body like a deep sea diver in search of a treasure, bracing himself by holding her waist like he would found gold.

But not yet. Now, he could only concentrate on her heartbeat. Matching his breath to hers. Clumsily stroking her hair and breathing in that Ginny scent of flowers and rosed courage. The sweet smell of daffodils that was her heart. "Thank you," he murmured, pressing his lips against her cheekbone.

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ginnyweasley
2008-04-04 03:17 am UTC (link)

Ginny tried not to laugh as she looked at the worn-out Harry. How cute! His entire face was rubbered and soft, and she just wanted to stroke it and kiss it.

Later, he would pull on his boxers and Ginny would tuck the sheet around her body like a dress and they would have dinner in the kitchen, her legs in her lap as they giggled, feeing each other bites of the fondue meat and clinking their forks in small wars.

They would sit in front of the fire and watch some video of a movie Harry loved, Ginny curled in his arms, feeling warmer from being so near his skin than from the flames.

And they would return to the bed, her legs wrapped around his waist as he carried her up the stairs, and even though Harry had made sure that she got pleasure of her own after the first time and would after the second, she would feel something, the sparks of promise that one day, it would not be so bloody boring for her.

And afterwards, they would wind together like question marks that had been mollified into answers, kissing each other until they fell asleep in the bed that would be theirs for good very soon.

But for now, she just kissed him.

"Thank you," she said back and meeting his lips for a kiss that felt like it would never end.

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