Warning: There are mentions of premarital sex in this story. If this offends you, please don't read.

Next Time

Harry couldn't stop thinking about Ginny. He was thinking about her during Auror lectures — during meals — whilst waiting in the lunch hour queue at Gringotts — even during training exercises.

He couldn't stop reliving their first time — and he couldn't stop obsessing about their next time.

Next time.

Next time he would slowly undress her. Next time he would touch and taste and caress and remember through his excitement to tell her how beautiful she was. And next time he would take more time to . . .

Take more time.

Harry squared his shoulders. He vowed to last longer with resolve and mental fortitude and steel-trap concentration —

Whoomf! Harry hit the ground with a thud.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Ron asked, as he extended a hand. "That's the third time I've Stunned you in a week."

Harry mumbled something about not sleeping well.

Ron's blue eyes narrowed. "You're in a daze, mate. Sleep-deprived people don't wear stupid grins all the day. Someone put love potion in your tea?"

"Yes, Ron. I can't stop thinking about Ian."

Ron smirked. "Too bad — he's getting married next week. Are you going to his stag party on Friday?"

"I dunno. I don't want to."

"But everyone is going to be there," Ron said in a low voice. "I think it's kind of expected — you know, department morale and all of that."

Harry pushed up his glasses and nodded. It was shocking, really, how office politics came up in so many situations that had nothing to do with the office. "Have you told Hermione?"

"Am I still alive?"

Harry tittered. "You're going to have to tell her."

"No, I won't," Ron said. The tips of his ears turned telltale red. "She's already planned a night out with her knitting group and —"

"Where does a knitting group go? The yarn shop?"

"Bowling."

"Bowling?"

Ron shrugged. "So she goes her way. I go mine. I just omit to tell her a few things about the pub."

"Like the naked witches."

"Right."

Harry shook his head. "I'm going to have to tell Ginny. If I just go at the beginning for a quick pint, I can be out before the other stuff starts."

"Forget a love potion, someone mixed full-strength Stupid in with your tea," Ron declared. "You think Ginny is going to buy that excuse?"

"It's not an excuse. It's a plan."

"Plan for what? A trip to St. Mungo's?"

Ron didn't understand the new closeness that had sprung up between them since their first time. "She'll understand."

"I don't understand," Ginny said flatly as she closed the door of the broom shed at the Burrow. "You think you can go to a stag party for a few minutes and then just leave?"

"Well, yeah."

She raised her eyebrows. "And then what were you going to do? Stop by and see me?" She put her hands on her hips. "What did that American Auror call it? Booty call?"

"Well, yes. I mean no! I would want to see you and spend the night — I mean spend time with you."

Her eyes flashed ominously. "Is that all you're thinking about these days — our first time?"

"What's wrong with that?" He tugged at the collar of his Auror uniform. It felt tight around his neck. "Don't you think about it?"

"Not all the time!"

"Really?" He gaped at her. "You don't think about sex? What do you think about?"

"When I'm flying, I think about not putting my broom into the ground. When I'm eating, I think about the food on my plate."

"You mean." He felt completely deflated by this revelation. "You mean you don't think about sex when you're day dreaming?"

"Harry, I think about you. And that doesn't always include sex."

"Oh." He eyed Ginny warily. Her hair was still mussed up from flying and now she had her arms crossed in front of herself. There would be no 'next time' tonight. "Ginny, I think about you, too." It sounded lame, even to his ears.

She tossed her head and looked away from him.

"Really. I'm telling you. We've only had sex once, so it's not like that's all I've thought about in the years we've gone out."

Her expression remained stony.

"It's just that —" He didn't know how to explain it without sounding like a complete pervert.

"What?"

"It's just that it was so amazing, you know?" He looked into her eyes, willing her to understand.

Her expression softened. "I know. It was."

After a few seconds, Ginny unbent enough to put her arms around his waist. "Why do you blokes have to have these stag parties and — er — feed the beast? It's not like Ian isn't seeing his fiancé naked. Why does he have to look at other witches?"

A good question.

With no good answers.

"Er? Tradition?"

"Huh. I say it's testosterone."

"Bit of both, perhaps," Harry said diplomatically.

Ginny didn't appear interested in keeping the peace. She pulled away from him. "I won't be seeing you on Friday then," she said in a hard voice.

"I don't know how I can get out of it," Harry snapped, responding to the anger in her tone.

His stomach plummeted to his shoes when Ginny turned without another word and stalked into the house.

At least he had stopped thinking about their next time, Harry thought as he took his first sip of beer. Instead, all of his mental energies had gone into how he could reconcile with Ginny and still not let down the Auror Department.

Unfortunately, his mental energies were too feeble to come up with a solution. Ron had been insufferably smug that his plan not to tell Hermione was working.

Now Harry was trapped listening to Ian drunkenly tell his favorite joke. "So the Scotsman wakes up and sees his kilt up and a ribbon tied around his privates. So he says: 'I dinna kin where you've been laddie, but ye won first prize!'"

Everyone laughed. Harry gave a wan smile and Ron muttered that Ian always told that joke.

Harry put down his full glass and pushed away from the table. Why was he here? Ginny was the most important thing to him — not these idiots. He would go to the flower shop and get a huge bouquet that smelled liked . . .

He turned around. Ginny was standing behind him — and to his immense relief — her wand wasn't out. She met his eyes briefly and then addressed Ian. "Sorry to interrupt. The landlord wouldn't let owls in so this was the only way to communicate. It's — er — family emergency. Ron. Harry. Great-Uncle Billius needs your help."

Since Great-Uncle Billius was long dead, Harry knew this wasn't a real emergency. "Right." He swiftly stood up and tossed several Galleons on the table. "Buy another round on me, Ian."

"Thanks, Harry," Ian mumbled. "Hope your uncle will be — erm — okay."

Ron reluctantly got to his feet and looked at his unfinished pint. "I imagine he'll be resting in peace when we get to him."

"Hope so."

Harry happily took Ginny's hand and left the pub. Hermione, wearing bowling shoes and a satin shirt, was waiting under a lamppost.

"Oh," Ron said.

"Have fun bowling," Ginny said cheerfully.

Ron pinned a winning smile on his face and walked cautiously toward Hermione. Harry waited to make sure Hermione wasn't going to hex him before he turned to Ginny. "Thanks for the rescue."

Ginny smiled. "Next time we'll work something else out to rescue you."

His heart leaped. "Next time?"

"You're going to be expected to go to these things every now and then." Ginny sighed. "I should have thought of that before I got so angry with you. This wasn't just your problems to solve. It's my problem, too, if it's bothering me."

"I'm sorry," Harry said. "I should have just said 'no' from the beginning."

"I understand why you didn't."

"You do? Are you sure?" Harry asked. "Because it had nothing to do with feeding the beast or seeing naked witches or anything like that."

"I know," she said quietly. "I'm on a team. I know what peer pressure feels like. Sometimes it's better not to fight it straight on, but just do your own thing in your own way."

He touched her hair. "Thank you," he whispered.

In the lamplight he could see her blush. "You already said that."

"I already said 'I love you,' but I think I'll say it again." He cupped her face with his hands. "I love you." He kissed her.

She kissed him back. "I love you, too." Her eyes were shining. "I think it sounds better the second time."

All of his senses went on alert as the blood rushed through his body. "You do?" he asked.

"And speaking of second times, I think now is right for our 'next time.'" She smiled and took out her wand to Apparate.

"Wait." He put his hand on her wand wrist. "I don't want to mess this up. Ginny, I should have said 'no' because you're more important to me than the Aurors."

"Oh, Harry," she whispered. "Let's go." She put her arm around his waist.

"And you're beautiful, too," he blurted, but he wasn't sure if she heard. They were Apparating — something he normally hated. But he didn't notice. He was thinking about Ginny again.

A/N: Written for the Passage of Time Challenge at hpgw_otp on live journal. There was a word limit, which is why this is short and sweet.