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In From the Cold | ||||
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Category: Post-Hogwarts, Post-DH/AB, "Baby, It's Cold Outside" Challenge (2008-1) Characters:None Genres: Romance, Songfic Warnings: Sexual Situations Story is Complete Rating: R Reviews: 27 Summary: Ginny takes advantage of a snowstorm to convince Harry to take their relationship to the next level. Hitcount: Story Total: 11354 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. Author's Notes: Written for the February 2008 SIYE challenge and based on the song "Baby, It's Cold Outside," by Frank Loesser. Thanks to LilyValley73 and MagnoliaMama for beta-reading. This is my first-ever SIYE challenge fic, so please let me know if you enjoyed it! |
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Ginny leaned over towards Harry, where he sat next to her on the Burrow's sofa. It was late at night and her whole family was asleep. Carefully and determinedly, so that there was no way he could mistake her intention, Ginny took his earlobe between her lips and bit down gently, playing the sensitive flesh between her teeth. As she did so, she pressed her body closer to his, so that her breasts were pushed firmly up against his arm. Her hands played lightly over his chest. "Ginny, come on," Harry said nervously. "Hrr-rrm?" she murmured, her lips and tongue still too busy with his ear to form words. "No, no, no. Not here, Gin." Harry squirmed away from her and stood up. "Come on, your whole family's asleep upstairs. It's just --" "Just what?" she asked, in a voice that might've been louder than strictly necessary for a simple conversation between two people. "Don't you want to?" "Of course I want to," he hissed. "Keep your voice down." At that, it was just possible that Ginny over-reacted a little. Maybe. By the time she finished screaming and her mother, Ron, Charlie and Percy made it downstairs, though, Harry was already gone. Ginny brushed off their questions and went up to her room with an ache inside. It was just that much worse because she knew that she'd have to take care of matters by herself. Ginny looked up as Harry entered the house on Sunday evening, the day that the entire Weasley clan usually reserved for family suppers. "Hi," she said simply. "Erm, hello," Harry said. "Where's, erm, everyone?" "Out," Ginny said, twisting a lock of red hair around her finger. "Mum and Dad went to dinner at the Diggorys', and the boys are in London with Lee." "Oh," Harry said. "But-- what about dinner?" "We have some leftovers if you want," Ginny said. She got up off the sofa and led him into the kitchen. In the kitchen, Ginny searched through cabinets and pulled out some leftover stew and shepherd's pie and other things, and they sat down at the big table to eat together. They sat side-by-side with their backs to the small kitchen windows, and the sky faded past twilight into dark. The clouds outside were low and grey, thick with unshed snow, and as Harry and Ginny ate their dinner, a few small flakes began to fall. After dinner, they returned to the sitting room, and Harry sat down on one end of the sofa. Ginny settled herself on the rest of it, taking up most of the cushions and resting her bare legs on Harry's lap, leaning back with her hands behind her head. Stretched out like that, her back arched so that her breasts pushed forward and her shirt pulled up to expose a strip of pale, freckled skin at her waist. Harry swallowed, and looked around the room until his eyes settled on a frayed edge of the sofa cushion. "I'm -- I'm sorry about the other night," he said. Maybe I should've brought flowers, he thought. "It's all right," she said. "Don't worry about it." "Are you sure?" Harry asked. "I mean, it seemed like you were a little--" "A little," Ginny agreed. "But I'm sure you can find a way to make it up." Harry tore his gaze away from the sofa cushion and looked up at her, detecting a strange note in her voice. There was a gleam in her brown eyes that he'd rarely seen. Usually, it preceded some kind of mischief, but he had never been the target of her tricks before. Harry's throat felt dry, and he swallowed again. This did not look good. His mind was seized with a sudden desire to be somewhere far, far, far away; yet at the same time his body wanted to draw closer, closer, closer. "I think," he said, "I forgot to mention one little thing-- I have to go home and--" And then Harry glanced at the window for the first time that evening. Through the Weasleys' small leaded-glass windows, framed with dainty lace-edged curtains, snow was falling thick and fast. Already, the windowsill was piled with a drift a few inches thick, and the yard was nearly invisible through the haze of falling snow. "You don't want to go out in that," Ginny said, as if stating a fact. "Well no, but--" "It's so nice in here, with just the two of us." Ginny smiled up at him. Her lips were soft and pink and inviting, and Harry could just remember the taste of her kisses. It had been an awfully long time since he'd kissed her. Whole days had gone by. Harry swallowed again. He was feeling awfully thirsty. As if she had read his mind, Ginny said, "We have some butterbeer in the fridge, why don't you go get some?" Forgetting that he'd been about to leave and simply grateful for something to do, Harry jumped up off the sofa and returned a moment later with two frosty bottles of butterbeer. When he walked back into the room, Ginny sat up and snuggled backward into a seated position, making room for him next to her on the sofa. He handed her a bottle of butterbeer and sat down, leaving several inches of room between them. Looking around the room, he noticed that Ginny had lit a fire in the small fireplace. It filled the room with a cozy orange glow, and warmed the air in the small room. Ginny was drinking her butterbeer, pressing the neck of the bottle to her lips in a way that made Harry feel like the room might be a little too warm. He pushed up the sleeves of his jumper and wished he'd worn something lighter. The flames danced merrily in the grate. As Harry watched, the changing colors and flickering lights of the fire seemed almost hypnotic. In the back of his mind lurked the suspicion that he might've been forgetting something. If only he could think of what it was... "The Floo!" he said, a bit louder than necessary. "What about it?" Ginny asked. "I could just Floo home, couldn't I?" "Didn't you disconnect your Floo when that reporter got through?" "Oh, right." The room was silent for a long moment, and then Ginny set her butterbeer bottle down on a side table with a loud thunk. Harry winced. He had an idea of what was coming next. There would be shouts, recrimination, and probably groveling. It would not be pretty. He braced himself. Instead of accusations, though, Harry felt the light touch of Ginny's lips on his cheek. Her kiss was soft and cool, but Harry felt himself flush at the touch. It was too hot in the room, he thought to himself. Much too hot for fireplaces and jumpers and all of this-- Ginny kissed her way down the line of his jaw until she reached his mouth. Harry stayed perfectly still, and as Ginny made her way around, she had to climb nearly into his lap to reach his lips. Her lips connected with his, soft and probing, and her body was against his, curvy and warm and inviting. He could smell the flowery scent of her shampoo. Ginny made a little noise in the back of her throat, as though she was asking him a question, and Harry was sunk. He couldn't sit still any longer, couldn't remain impassive to this onslaught. He wasn't a bloody monk, after all. He parted his lips and joined the kiss, opening his mouth and letting her in. Ginny's tongue was hot and searching, dipping inside his mouth and tracing patterns against his tongue. Harry was operating purely on instinct now, and his instincts wanted Ginny closer -- as close as possible. He wrapped one arm around her waist and pulled her to him. She mewled in the back of her throat, and even though it was a tiny quiet sound, Harry could feel the reverberations echo down his spine. She wiggled and shifted and moved around, and Harry could feel his own body responding. His heart pounded and blood rushed through his veins, carrying messages to every part of his body, saying go go go and yes yes yes, more faster closer. Ginny threw one leg over him and then she was straddling him, her chest flush against his and her panties directly against Harry's hard, aching erection. Harry jerked back from her, his eyes wide. "We can't-- this-- I shouldn't be here," he said, finding it difficult to get the words out. "You really want to go?" Ginny asked. She did something with her hips, like moving around in a little tiny circle, and pleasure shot through Harry's entire body saying stay stay stay. "Yes," he said, but he didn't make any move to push her out of his lap. "You'd rather be out in the cold?" she asked. Her breasts pressed against his chest, and Harry's hands itched with wanting, saying touch touch touch. "I should go," he said. "Why?" Ginny asked. She ducked her head and kissed the spot behind his ear, hot and wet and just the right amount of pressure. "Your family--" Harry said. "They'll come home, and--and they'll see us, and they'll think--" "I --" Ginny said firmly, "--don't care--" she ground down with her hips again, "--what my family thinks." He thought he had never felt so good in his entire life. "But--" he said. "Harry," she said, "Look at the snow out there." She pressed her hand to his jaw, and turned his face so he was looking out the window, at the swirling, churning world of white beyond the glass. "Nobody is going out in that tonight." "Right," he said weakly. He could see himself and Ginny reflected in the window, locked in an embrace against a backdrop of solid snow. "I guess we could say it was the snow." She kissed the spot next to Harry's ear again, scraping her teeth across his sensitive skin. "Let them talk if they want to talk," she said softly, in a voice just over a whisper that made Harry's skin tingle and his hairs stand on end. "Stay here with me?" she asked, a pleading note in her voice. "Please?" Harry felt like if he had to pull away he might just die. His whole body was saying touch touch touch, now now now, want want want, and his mind had gone completely empty of reasons that he should leave. He had opened his mouth to answer, but could not find the words to say anything. Ginny arched her back so that her breasts were nearly in Harry's face. "Please," she said. "Please touch me." Harry found that he had used all of his stores of resistance, and had none left. There was only one thing left to do. He gave in to her warmth. After all, it was cold outside. |
| Reviews 27 |
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