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Ginny Weasley's Particular Brand of Therapy | ||||
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Category: Post-HBP Characters:Harry/Ginny Genres: Angst, Drama, Fluff, General, Romance Warnings: Sexual Situations Story is Complete Rating: R Reviews: 57 Summary: Ginny develops her own method of healing Harry after he kills Voldemort. Hitcount: Story Total: 33958 Awards: View Trophy Room Disclaimer: Harry Potter Publishing Rights © J.K.R. Note the opinions in this story are my own and in no way represent the owners of this site. This story subject to copyright law under transformative use. No compensation is made for this work. |
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He had a habit of caressing the same bit of her skin over and over again. At first it was his thumb stroking the back of her hand as he held it. He would rub the spot repeatedly, sometimes in a circular motion, sometimes in a sweeping pattern as if he was trying to memorize the feel of the bones in her hand. He held her hand everywhere: in the hallways, by the lake, in the common room, underneath the table in the Great Hall. And every time he took her small, calloused hand in his larger, calloused one, she would wait for the motion to begin. It was a constant and he was consistent. Their passion for each other rose quickly. They had known each other for years and it was more than exciting to find new ways to know each other. Soon he had progressed from rubbing the back of her hand to her cheekbone as they lay together by the lake. Or the skin of her waist as he snuck his hand inside her robes and fingered the space between her jumper and jeans. Sometimes it was the back of her shoulder as she lay with her head in his lap and sometimes it was the arch of her foot after a rough Quidditch practice. When it got to be too much, she would tease him that he was going to rub her raw. He would smile sheepishly and move his hand to another spot. She tried touching him like she thought she’d liked to be touched–as if he would learn by example. Her hands roamed everywhere, tracing every bit of his skin as far she dared. He seemed to like it and would moan into her mouth as he rolled her over to her back. He’d shudder under her hands and almost like a puppy, began begging for her touch without asking out loud. He would collapse with his head in her lap at the end of the day and nuzzle her stomach with his nose until she was forced to rub her fingers through his hair. When she was busy studying and he’d gotten bored with her ignoring him, he would nudge her until she put down her books in exasperation. She started to realize that he craved attention–not the usual kind of attention he got from the press and the students who whispered about him in the hall, but the kind of attention that he’d been denied as a child. Loving attention, little touches, hugs for no reason…she gave them to him freely and he seemed to bloom every time she brushed his fringe back and kissed him softly on the forehead. But his habit of staying in the same spot on her skin did not change. He was fascinated with the way freckles swept over her shoulder and down her back and he would trace between them, making little patterns until she would laughingly move his hand to another spot. “Here, Harry,” she would say and direct his hand to her waist. He would grin at her and slant his mouth over hers until all thoughts left her brain and she was swimming in a sea of bright green eyes and dark hair and soft, slow kisses that left her dizzy for hours afterwards. He told her once that he was trying to memorize the way her skin felt, inch by inch. She had laughed and kissed him but had stopped trying to put his hands where she wanted them, content to let him continue his quest without direction. He’d been doing quite a good job of it too, until the world fell apart and he’d left her alone, sitting in front of a white tomb that held the dashed hopes of so many. She’d watched as he met his friends, her brother and her own best friend, realizing that she could not blame him when she knew he was the hope that was still left–even if others did not know it. When they met later at her brother’s wedding, she’d been torn between cornering him and letting him continue to avoid her. She’d stood on one side of the dance floor and he’d stood on the other, their eyes meeting across the swirling dancers. He looked haunted and she knew she could not push him. She would be strong for him–even if she could not be strong for herself. So she had slumped defeated, away from the dance floor and slunk between the shadows back to the house where she’d fought back her tears until she could feel the privacy of her own room–the comfort of her childhood wrapping around her until she felt safe enough to cry. She hadn’t until then. She’d held out just a little hope that he would cave once he saw her but the look on his face, his determinedness, had shook her. She sat in the middle of her bed, hugging her knees to her chest and crying silently; the tears dripping down and staining the front of the gold silk her new sister-in-law had sworn made her look like a goddess. Her head lifted when the door to her room creaked open and a figure stood there, silhouetted by the hallway light. Harry stepped into the room and the look on his face was so pained, she fought back the rest of her tears, determined to not make this harder on him. “This is the first time I’ve cried, I promise,” she whispered to him, her eyes wide as she watched him come towards her. He hadn’t said anything, just sank down on the bed next to her and reached out a hand until he was cupping her face. His thumb brushed over and over on her cheekbone, rubbing away the tears. She hesitated, then uncurled one her fists and held his hand to her face before closing her eyes. She enjoyed his touch for just a few minutes before he stood up. “I’m sorry,” he whispered back to her and then he was gone, hesitating only a moment as he shut the door behind him. Two seconds later he was back, his eyes shining in the darkness as he slammed the door behind him. He strode over to her in three quick strides and grasped her by her upper arms, yanking her off the bed and to her feet. “Bugger it,” he swore and crushed his mouth to hers. His mouth was hard and bruising and she welcomed the feeling of it on hers, anxious to savor every moment of his weakness. She wrapped herself around him, arms and legs, fighting to grasp every inch of him. She noticed with a detached part of herself that he had stopped focusing on just one inch of her skin. His hands roamed her with urgency, gripping her waist, bum and thighs until she was sure he would leave marks. She welcomed them with a sob, knowing it would be the only proof that he had ever been here. She urged his head up by tugging on his hair and fastened her mouth to his neck, nipping at his skin, anxious to leave her own mark. “Ginny,” he whispered hoarsely. “Harry,” she gasped. “I missed…miss you,” he said and he slid a hand up to palm the back of her head, fingers tangling in her red tresses. He held her head still and kissed her with desperation. “Miss you too,” she managed, right before he swept his tongue into her mouth again. She whimpered and clutched at him tighter as he walked forward with her until her back hit the wall and he pressed against her. He held her there suspended, trapped between his body and the wall of her bedroom while his hands, with fingers splayed wide, moved down her sides and gripped her hips. She could feel his arousal and it wasn’t the first time she’d felt it. There was too much between them to be embarrassed and they’d never hidden their passion for each other. He pressed his hips into hers and she moaned as a bright bolt of heat shot through her. Harry’s mouth slid down the side of her neck and he sucked the skin below her earlobe between his teeth. Ginny was just about to loosen the tie around his neck when voices were heard outside the door. They froze. Harry backed away, letting go of her, his eyes wide with fright they would be discovered. Ginny slid down the wall to the floor, breathing heavily. “I’m-I’m sorry,” he stammered. “I shouldn’t have…” “It’s fine Harry, it’s fine,” she said, holding up a hand. She pressed her other hand to her chest, trying to calm her racing heart. “Its fine,” she reassured him again from her position on the floor. Her knees had buckled underneath her and she didn’t think she had the strength to stand. Harry sat down on the edge of the bed and put his head in his hands. “I’m such an idiot,” he mumbled. “Why?” Harry shook his head and rubbed his face with his hands. “I shouldn’t have come up here,” he said finally. “I knew I wouldn’t be able to resist if we were alone.” “You don’t have to resist,” she said fiercely. “I’m not buying your act of indifference and no one else is either!” Harry continued shaking his head. “It’s not just a show for other people,” he said sadly. “It’s for myself. I can’t be with you right now Ginny and the only way for me to do that is to pretend I don’t want to be.” “But you do want it! There’s nothing wrong with that!” Harry looked up at her. “It’s not about what I want,” he said harshly. “We’ve been through this before.” Ginny opened her mouth to speak and then thought better of it. She’d known he was serious from the minute he’d opened his mouth at Dumbledore’s funeral. And she respected him too much to fight him on this decision. “You’re right,” she said, looking down at her feet. “I’m sorry. I won’t force you on this.” He sighed and looked at her sadly. “It helps to know that you would fight for it,” he told her. “But you won’t?” she said sharply. He stiffened and she kicked herself mentally. “I’m sorry,” she said, shutting her eyes. “I didn’t mean that.” “Why do you think I’m doing this?” he asked her quietly. “What else am I fighting for except for the chance to live a normal life for once? To be a normal teenager who only has to worry about whether his girlfriend will shag him?” Ginny softened. “You’re going to get him. I know you will,” she said softly, meeting his eyes. He tried to smile at her but it failed. “I wasn’t lying,” he said. “I really have missed you.” “Me too.” She got to her knees and walked over to him, placing small hands on his knees. “You’ll get him and then you come back to me.” She put her hands on his face and urged his head up so she could look him in the eyes. “There are all sorts of places on my body you still have to memorize,” she whispered. “All kinds of bits left to discover.” Harry really did smile then and Ginny flushed. It was a pretty blatant invitation but they’d been headed that direction anyway…hadn’t they? She thought she could see a familiar twinkle in his eyes as he leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss on her mouth. “I can’t wait,” he said softly. He was gone in a swirl of his dress robes and Ginny sat back on her heels long after he’d gone. She could see herself in the mirror over her bureau. Her hair had fallen out of the style Hermione had painstakingly charmed it in that morning and there were red marks on her neck. Her lipstick was smeared and one shoulder of the dress had been yanked down. She looked…debauched. She stood up and smoothed her dress, grabbing a tissue to wipe the lipstick from her mouth. Tomorrow Harry would leave and he would take her brother and her best friend with him. She would be alone, left behind. She would probably go back to Hogwarts where people would ask her endless questions about the Golden Trio and what they were doing. Or worse, they would want to know why Harry had dumped her. She straightened her hair and grabbed her wand from where she had thrown it earlier. Well, she wasn’t going to tell them the truth. She’d say something non-committal like “he decided he liked boys better than girls.” She smirked at herself in the mirror. That oughtta throw off those death eaters. ****** He stayed away for almost a year. And when he finally returned, he was thin, pale and even more haunted than when he had begun. Voldemort was gone, he managed to gasp, right before he passed out on the front porch of the Burrow. Ginny thought maybe he came to the Burrow because that was where she was, but it just as easily could have been because it was the only place left that felt like home. It had been endless months of pretending she wasn’t dying inside, pretending she didn’t miss him, pretending she didn’t expect to see the three of them every time she stepped into the Gryffindor Common Room. There were only short notes sent to the Order and a few even shorter ones that came to the Great Hall and the Burrow, assuring her they were okay. None of the notes were from Harry. In fact, the only indication she had that he even thought of her during those months away were a few little scraps of paper brought to her by unknown owls. They had only shapes on them. A star, a heart, a smiley face, something that looked like a hippogriff…they were shapes he had once sworn he could draw in her freckles. She knew what they meant and she treasured each one. She realized then that she would give just about anything if it meant she could feel him caressing the same spot of her skin over and over again. She couldn’t believe she had ever tried to break him of that habit. She swore that if he returned to her, she would put up with whatever quirks he had. Sometimes she would lay in bed and hold her own hand, her thumb rubbing the back of it over and over again, trying to remember what if felt like when he did it. But it wasn’t the same. After they came home, he slept for a week. The world was clambering outside the Burrow’s door but still he slept on and her mother reached new levels of protectiveness. She threatened to hex the Minister of Magic and Ginny actually hexed several reporters. Her brother put up unusual wards and protections around their home and one by one, people stopped trying. When he finally woke, she was sitting by his bedside, studying for her NEWTS, which she had decided to take early. Hogwart’s had been closed since Christmas and she’d been doing home tutoring with several members of the Order. Tonks had insisted she was ready for the advanced tests. He rolled over and looked at her blearily. “Ginny?” Ginny looked up from her book and smiled. “I’m here, Harry.” He didn’t say anything, just held out a hand and pulled her into bed with him. He smelled, not having bathed in several days, but he was real and alive and she curled herself into him and tangled her legs with his. They were silent for a moment until she felt his palm start to move on her lower back, right where her shirt rode up and exposed the skin. He rubbed the spot over and over again and the feeling of it was so welcome, so precious, that she was soon crying and blubbering. He held her while her shoulders shook, whispering and soothing her until her cries subsided. She laughed then and told him how ironic it was that he was the one comforting her, when she couldn’t even imagine what he’d been through. It was an invitation to tell her what happened but he was silent. “I just can’t talk about it right now Gin. Is that bad?” “No,” she said. “It’s not. You’ll talk about it when you’re ready.” “Dumbledore,” he said haltingly, as if the name still hurt to say. “He always made me, said it was best that I get it out. Otherwise I would dwell on it.” “Dumbledore isn’t here,” she said softly. “So you have to do what you think is right. It’s what you’ve been doing all along.” He hesitated and then told her some of it. He told her how much he had missed her and how hard it was to keep her out of his mind. How Hermione had to learn Leglimency so she could test his Occlumency. How they had started their journey at Godric’s Hollow and he’d found his parent’s graves. ”I wanted to tell them all about you,” he told her in the darkened bedroom. “But I was afraid Death Eaters would overhear.” He seemed to not be able to go on. So she talked. She told him all about her school year, about the attack on Hogwarts and how she had missed him every single minute of every single day. He held her tighter then and they fell asleep, wrapped up in each other, until the morning sunlight fell on her face and woke her up. The next week passed pretty much in the same manner, except that Harry was awake instead of asleep. He seemed to draw further into himself every day and Ginny wondered if she’d made a mistake in not encouraging him to talk everything out. She knew people were discussing him behind his back and it angered her. She sensed that he mostly just wanted to be left alone, to deal with things internally. She reminded Remus Lupin that he had been sent home alone to the Dursley’s at the end of each school year and had managed things just fine until now. The werewolf hadn’t tried to argue with her the rest of the day. She became protective of his privacy, even more so than her mother had been. She badgered, argued and fought for his right to be alone whenever he wasn’t around to fight for it himself. She sat with him every day and made an effort to talk about everything except Voldemort and Horcruxes. Hermione was the worst one of Harry’s well-meaning friends. Ginny couldn’t deny that Hermione had earned the right to be just as upset as Harry; although what had happened between Voldemort and Harry had happened alone. But Hermione dealt with her own trauma in much healthier way and one afternoon, Ginny caught her reading books on how to overcome depression. “Are you depressed ‘Mione?” she asked, plopping onto the lawn beside her friend and looked at her expectantly. “No, but I think Harry might be,” her friend said crossly. “It’s the only thing that explains this funk he’s in.” “Maybe,” Ginny conceded. “I might be a bit depressed too if I had to live what he’s gone through.” “Does he talk to you? Does he talk about his feelings at all? He can’t keep them bottled up inside. He’s going to explode soon.” “Probably,” Ginny agreed. “But then it will be all over and we can all move on.” Hermione closed her book in frustration. “Don’t you think we need to force him to talk to us? To someone? Maybe a professional?” “I think,” Ginny said slowly, “that what he needs is to completely forget about the past seven years of his life for just one moment. He’s been fighting for so long, he doesn’t know what it’s like to be a normal teenager.” Hermione looked at her thoughtfully. “Hmm…I suppose you’ve got some sort of plan then?” Ginny stretched her legs out in front of her and leaned back on her elbows. “I do,” she confirmed. “I’ve just been waiting until it was time.” “Are you going to tell me what it is?” “No,” she said honestly. “Not until I see if it works. And maybe not even then. Trust me, this isn’t something you can help me on.” Hermione huffed and went back to her reading. She mumbled something about a “Plan B” under her breath but Ginny ignored her. That night, Ginny took Harry’s dinner up to him. He’d been taking most of his meals away from the dinner table and Ginny had convinced her mother that as long as he was eating, she shouldn’t be worried. They ate in silence after a brief greeting kiss. Harry finished his meal quickly and after happily downing her mother’s treacle tart, stretched out on his bed. He crossed his legs at the ankle and folded his arms behind his head and watched her with glittering eyes. “Hermione’s worried about you,” Ginny said nonchalantly, taking a bite of her own pudding. “I know,” he replied. “I keep telling her I’m fine but she won’t listen.” “You would say you were ‘fine’ if your arm was blown off,” Ginny scoffed at him. He smiled faintly. “You don’t believe me then either?” Ginny shrugged. “I think you’re as fine as anyone who has been through the shite you’ve been through. In fact, I’m a bit surprised Hermione is as fine as she is. Remarkable resilience that one.” She stood up and walked over to sit next to him on the bed. “She told me she thinks you need to see a counselor or something.” She raised her eyebrows at him as if it was a question. “And what did you say? Do you think I need to see someone?” he asked curiously. She smiled at him and got up on her knees on the bed, moving to place one on either side of him so that she was straddling him. “I’ve been telling everyone that you need to be left alone to deal with things until you’re ready to talk about them.” She lowered herself until she was sitting on his stomach. “And I told Hermione that you needed to feel like a normal teenager for once.” “Which means?” he asked. His hands came up to rest on her thighs. “I think you need a good long shag,” she said firmly. “Do you remember what you said to me before you left?” He nodded slowly. “You said a normal teenager would be worried about shagging his girlfriend, not chasing Dark Wizards.” Her hands went to the hem of her t-shirt and she pulled it up and off, dropping it to the side of the bed on the floor. “I’ve decided you’re right.” Harry’s eyes went wide and his hands twitched like he wanted to move them but was restraining himself. “So your form of therapy is to…shag me?” “Shagging,” she confirmed. “Whenever and wherever you want. We’re going to shag every time you feel bad, everytime you feel sad, everytime you feel happy. We’re going to shag up one side of the Burrow and down the other. We’re going to forget the past year by drowning in each other.” “What happens if I don’t want to forget,” he asked hoarsely, his eyes fastened on her lace-covered breasts. Ginny considered. “Well, we’ll stop shagging for those moments. But all the other times, we’re going to drown your sorrows in sex. It’s bound to make you happy again.” “Ginny, your parents and your brothers-“ he gestured wordlessly towards the door, an almost panicked look on his face now. “Oh, thanks for reminding me,” she said. She got off him to grab her wand from the floor and cast a series of charms on the room. The door sealed itself with a squelch and Ginny turned to him, grinning. “I put a repelling charm on the area as well.” She kept her eyes on him as she toed off her sneakers and shimmied off her shorts. She’d prepared for this moment by purchasing a contraceptive potion and new underwear in Diagon Alley two weeks ago. Harry swallowed as she walked over to him and took off his shoes and socks and then slowly crawled up his body until she was sitting on his thighs. She reached for his belt buckle but his hands stopped her. “Ginny, are you sure?” he asked seriously. “Harry,” she assured, “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my entire life.” He reached out a hand and cupped her face. “I love you,” he whispered. “I know,” she said, her eyes fastened on his. “I love you too.” “I did it for you,” he said hoarsely. “Everything I did, I did it for you. I was thinking of you in that last moment. Of how much I love you and of how much you love me.” “Good,” she said firmly. “Now get that shirt off Potter, we’ve got a whole year to make up for.” He grinned at her and sat up, whipping off his t-shirt as he did so. He grabbed her around the waist and brought her back down to the mattress with him, rolling her over onto her back. “I think I’m going to like this therapy,” he said just before he fastened his mouth onto hers. He slid his legs between hers, until she was forced to part them and he settled into her pelvis. That first session of therapy didn’t last long, it even hurt a little bit; but when Harry finally rolled off her, she thought she could see a tiny parting of the shadows on his face. He reached for her again in the night after a nightmare and cried on her shoulder, even while he was moving inside of her. “You’re here, you’re alive,” he whispered over and over to her. She woke him up the next morning with a move she’d heard the older girls in her dorm at Hogwart’s talk about. He looked down at her with wide eyes, right before they rolled back in his head and Ginny liked to think it was the perfect start to what promised to be a cheerful day. He started to improve bit by bit. He laughed more and started joining her family for meals at the table. Whenever his eyes fell on her, his gaze would turn heated and she would wink back at him. They would excuse themselves after dessert and race for his bedroom, throwing charms at the door behind them and falling into his bed, struggling to remove each other’s clothing. It was the kind of therapy that got better with each session. They made love everywhere: his bedroom, her bedroom, and the attic, by the lake, in the living room… More memorable moments included bent over the kitchen table when they’d been left alone for the day. One time, he even took her against the wall in the stairwell when they just could not wait any longer and the rest of the family was still outside. He’d even joined her in the dressing room at Madame Malkin’s in Diagon Alley on one of his rare excursions out. He said it was to escape the people who were staring at him but when his hands had started removing the clothing she was trying on, she’d known differently. Her family and the Order were amazed at the change in him. “I don’t know what you’re doing for him Ginny,” her mum said admiringly, “but keep it up.” Ginny had held back her laughter and later cheekily told Harry that her mother had just given them permission to have as much sex as they wanted. They’d celebrated with sex in the shower after several, carefully placed silencing and repelling charms. Hermione, although pleased at the change in Harry, watched Ginny with a shrewd look in her eye. If she suspected Ginny’s brand of therapy, she didn’t say. Ron just thanked her and said he didn’t want to know. He made love to her a thousand different ways. Sometimes he was so gentle it would bring tears to her eyes. Other times, he would take her when he was upset or angry at the world. She gave everything to him freely and told him it didn’t matter if it was sometimes slow and sometimes rough. She liked it both ways. She was often the initiator of things; she knew him better than anyone and she could tell when the melancholy was about to overtake him. He always responded eagerly, as if he had forgotten they could do this until the very moment when she slipped her hands underneath his shirt. In the beginning, she had to remind him every day that he could be just a normal teenager but after a few weeks, he started to remind himself and would seek her out. She would drop whatever she was doing when she saw that particular glint in his eye. Soon something happened that Ginny had not intended. He began to talk to her about his life and about the past year. He started with his life at the Dursley’s and moved through his life at Hogwarts at a snail’s pace. Ginny listened in rapt attention, fascinated with the details he was letting out. They developed a pattern for bedtime: Shagging, talking, and then more shagging. It was as if making love to her allowed him to release his demons and the follow-up sex cemented that they were gone. They would talk for hours, wrapped around each other until her days became nothing but studying for her NEWTS, talking to Harry and making love with him. Remus Lupin took her aside and thanked her with tears in his eyes after Harry had approached him and asked about Sirius and his parents. Harry eventually even met with the Minister of Magic and gave him the barest minimum of details about how he had defeated Voldemort. He’d also talked to the Order and spoke in greater detail. It had been really difficult for him–it was the first time he’d spoken about it to anyone other than Ginny, Ron and Hermione. Ginny had made the Order swear they wouldn’t ask too many questions. By the time he got home that day, she had taken one look at him and knew he needed her. She took him up to his bedroom and undressed him slowly, loving every inch of his body as she exposed him. She made love to him that night and when he’d held her afterwards, body still trembling, she knew he appreciated it. They decided to reopen Hogwart’s in September and Hermione was ecstatic. Ron was excited too but they failed to notice Harry and Ginny’s lack of enthusiasm until two days later when Ron finally recognized their silence on the issue. Harry sighed and took Ginny’s hand. “Ginny and I,” he spoke haltingly. “Well…we’re not going to go back.” Ginny squeezed his hand when his friends stared in disbelief at him. “Not go back,” Hermione whispered, as if the concept was foreign to her. “Why not? What about your NEWTS? What about your careers?” “Professor Lupin has agreed to be our tutor,” Ginny said. “I’ve already reached the NEWT-level of classes so he can teach us both at the same time.” “I’m going to remodel Grimmauld Place and move in there with Remus,” Harry said. “I just…I just can’t go back guys, I’m sorry. I have to go forward now.” Hermione was still in shock and she looked to Ron for help. Ron stared at Harry hard for a moment and then nodded. “I get it,” he said, heavily. “I understand.” “Ron!” Hermione cried. She looked back and forth between the two of them, searching for a voice of reason. “It’s all right ‘Mione,” Ron told her. “He’ll be with Professor Lupin. He’ll be fine.” He said it as if he was trying to reassure himself as well. Ginny realized it was the first time the three of them would be apart in seven years. She could understand Hermione’s reluctance to part–they’d all been through so much together. She decided to give them some time alone and stood up, squeezing Harry’s hand as she did so. He looked up at her and tugged on her hand, pulling her down so he could kiss her goodbye and then turned back to his friends. She was waiting for him in his bed when he returned to the house a few hours later. The sun was setting and Harry’s room, formerly Percy’s room, had a great view of it. He opened the door and stood just inside the doorway, hands shoved deep in his pockets. He looked…almost lost. Normally Ginny would have enacted her own special brand of therapy at this point but he reminded her so much of a little boy that she decided he needed something else besides shagging. She held her arms out to him and he closed the door softly behind him before going to the foot of the bed and crawling up her body, sighing heavily as he rested his torso between her legs, his head facedown in her stomach, and his arms around her waist. She stroked his hair, her fingers soothing and scratching his scalp. “Is everything all right?” she finally asked. “With Ron and Hermione?” Harry sighed again and turned his head to the side so he could talk. “It will be I suppose,” he said. “It’s hard for all of us. It’s the first time we’ll be apart…” His voice trailed off. “I know,” she said. “But well…it would have happened sooner or later.” He grunted in agreement and she continued to stroke his hair. “Do you think they understand? Why you can’t go back to Hogwart’s I mean?” Harry nodded in agreement. “We talked about it,” he said heavily. “I think they get that…well, it just feels like that part of my life is closed now. I can’t be a student there anymore, I feel too old.” “They could stay back too,” she suggested. “Lupin would teach all of us if we asked.” “I told them,” he said. “But just like I feel I can’t go back, they feel like they can’t stay away.” Ginny nodded and Harry looked up at her. “You could go back too,” he said slowly, “if you wanted. I wouldn’t stop you.” Ginny smiled and shook her head. “My place is with you,” she said softly, brushing his fringe away from his eyes. “I belong where you are.” He cleared his throat and shifted so he was supporting himself on his elbows on either side of her hips. “After we’re done with NEWTS,” he said, “will you…I mean…would you…if I asked…” he broke off and sighed in frustration, his head dropping back down so his forehead was resting on her belly. Ginny let her hands drop to her ribs and folded them, waiting for him to get out whatever he was trying to say. “Just say it Harry,” she finally urged. “I want to know,” he said, lifting his head, “if well…if you would marry me, you know, when you’re of age and we’re done with school.” “Is that a proposal?” she asked, tilting her head. “Not yet,” he said, swallowing. “Sort of a promise to each other.” Ginny urged him off her legs and sat up. She put both hands on this face and stared into the green fathoms she liked so much. “Then yes,” she said, “I’ll definitely promise that.” He grinned at her and kissed her quickly. “I think I’m ready for more of Healer Weasley’s therapy now,” he said. His voice was husky and his eyes had darkened. He crawled back over her body and forced her back onto the mattress. She took his weight as he relaxed on her and spread her legs until he was nestled in the cradle of her thighs. “We’re going to be together forever aren’t we?” he breathed, almost as if he was amazed at the thought. As if the idea was just sinking in. “Yes,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him hard. “That’s why you killed that bastard isn’t it?” “Yeah,” Harry agreed, his head nudging her chin up and nestling in her neck. “That’s why I killed him. For you.” |
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