Full Nakedness (HP)
Title: Full Nakedness
Rating: NC-17
Summary: The morning after her wedding to Harry, Ginny is having to come to terms with the life-altering step she has just taken, not least of all the challenge of overcoming the emotional deprivation Harry endured as a child. Written prior to the release of HBP.
DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns the Harry Potter universe and everything it encompasses. This is a work of fan fiction, and thus derives no profit or material benefit therefrom.
Note: This was previously posted on Hand Me My Robes and Essence of Valor under the author name "Baba O'Riley." We are one and the same. :-)
Full nakedness! All joys are due to thee,
As souls unbodied, bodies unclothed must be,
To taste whole joys. (John Donne, "To His Mistress Going to Bed")
Ginny awoke to the sound of water running. Slightly befuddled, she propped herself up on her elbows and looked around. She was in a bedroom, no doubt about that, but not like any bedroom she remembered having ever slept in before. When she twisted to one side to get a closer look at the clock on the bedside table, however, the twinge in her groin and the sudden revelation that she hadn't a stitch of clothing on brought everything back with a sharp "Oh!"
She'd got married yesterday.
But where was her husband? she wondered as she sat up, pulling up the bedsheet to cover her exposed breasts. Why wasn't Harry lying naked in bed beside her?
The groan of ancient pipes as the water turned off in the adjoining room answered her question. He must have awakened before she did and decided to take a shower. Her stomach filled with butterflies. If his shower was done, then odds were he'd be emerging from the lavatory any moment now. It would be the first time they'd have had to face each other in broad daylight since... last night.
The click of a door unlocking sent her scrambling to wrap the sheet more tightly around her torso. She realized, too late, that her dressing gown was still packed in her valise; she hoped Harry would be a gentleman and avert his eyes when time came for her to make a dash for the loo.
The door opened to reveal her new husband wrapped in a thick white dressing gown, his hair still damp from the shower, his glasses slightly fogged by steam. Ginny pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged them. "Hi," she said.
He turned beet red and ducked his head down to hide the goofy grin that had suddenly blossomed across his face. "Hi."
"Have you been up long?"
"No. Er... lavatory's free, if you want to take a shower."
"Thanks. I'm okay for now."
"Oh. Okay."
He dropped down in an easy chair across from her. His thighs unconsciously spread, widening the gap in his dressing gown and giving her a clear view of what lay beyond. She was tempted to point this out to him at first, then thought better of it; though she knew she had the rest of her life to get to know that particular part of his anatomy on very intimate terms, as of this morning it was still a strange and fascinating thing. Not staring at it too overtly would be a challenge, though. She willed herself to focus on Harry's handsome face instead.
"Did you sleep well?" She felt her cheeks grow warm at the memory of what had happened before sleep overtook her.
The goofy grin was back, though this time he made no effort to hide it. "Yeah. You?"
"Mostly."
He played with the sash of his dressing gown. "D'you want me to order up some breakfast?"
Her stomach growled noisily in response. "I reckon that's a 'yes'," she said with a laugh.
He laughed with her as he retrieved his wand from the pocket of the dress robes he'd worn yesterday. "Any special requests?"
"Coffee, juice and pastries will do."
"Coffee, juice and pastries it is, then." He followed the instructions in a pamphlet the concierge had given them upon check-in, and in less than a minute a heavily-laden tray appeared on the dinette by the balcony.
"D'you want to eat outside?" Harry asked, holding a hand out to her.
Ginny shook her head. "I'd rather stay here, if you don't mind."
"Oh." He looked disappointed at first, then turned pink. "Oh! Okay. Of course." He Levitated the tray over to the bed. "D'you mind--?" he asked, gesturing to the empty spot beside her.
"Of course, Harry," she said with a smile. "I'm hardly going to turn my own husband out of our bed on the first day of our honeymoon."
The coffee he'd just tried to swallow went all over the place. Ginny held the sheet across her chest with one hand and reached over to pound at Harry's back with the other. "Are you okay?" she asked.
He nodded, though tears ran down his face. "You've got to give me time to get used to the idea of being married before you go saying things like that," he croaked.
"Sorry," she said, scooting closer to put an arm around his waist and rest her cheek against his arm. "If it helps any, this is just as strange for me as it is for you."
He turned his head to look down at her. His eyes, always such a startling shade of green, seemed so much more so when viewed at close range through the distortion of his glasses. She felt her heart jump in response and the butterflies renew their frenetic fluttering. "Really?" he asked, licking his lips.
"Yeah," was all she managed to get out before he leaned down and kissed her.
Whether she drew him down or his weight brought him over her she couldn't say, but it didn't take long before she found herself entangled in his ardent embrace. She responded eagerly, arching her back and grasping at his hips to pull him closer. In her eagerness she forgot to keep herself covered. She gasped when the cool air hit her breast, then again when his warm hand engulfed it. And when he lowered his head to suckle at it, she moaned out loud. Somewhere in the dim recesses of her mind she worried about the mess they'd make if -- when -- one of them kicked the breakfast tray off the bed in a spasm of ecstasy.
That spasm never came, however, because when Harry's lower body tried to nudge its way between her thighs, the strained muscles in her groin cried out in protest and she found herself pushing him away. "Harry... wait... please..." she gasped.
He lifted himself off of her, supporting his weight on his arms. His glasses were askew, his hair flopped down in his eyes, and his dressing gown had been pushed down just below his shoulders. "What's wrong?" he asked, his voice thick and husky.
"I'm sorry," she said. She felt tears of embarrassment spring to her eyes. "It's just -- I'm not accustomed to -- you know --" She covered her eyes with her hand, afraid to see the hurt and disappointment in his face.
Harry rolled off her with a groan. "Dammit."
If Ginny didn't feel miserable before, she certainly did now. She also felt angry. "Excuse me for not wanting to spread my legs for you at the drop of a hat," she snapped, moving away from him. She yanked the sheet back up to cover her nakedness. "Merlin forbid I need time to get used to being married."
She waited for his response, but he'd flung his arm across his eyes and gave no indication he'd even heard her. If not for the very prominent erection jutting out through the folds of his dressing gown and his rapid, shallow breathing, she'd have thought he'd dropped off to sleep.
"Thanks for being so understanding, Harry," she muttered under her breath. "Suit yourself." She tugged the sheet free and scooted to the edge of the bed to wrap it around herself. A final look over her shoulder told her that Harry hadn't moved, hadn't even noticed. In fact, his free hand had strayed down past his waist and was now slowly stroking his penis.
That was the final straw. Ginny went to her valise as quickly as she could without tripping over the sheet, grabbed her toiletries bag, dressing gown and wand, then fled for the safety of the lavatory, slamming and locking the door behind her.
Once inside the lavatory Ginny took several deep draughts of air into her lungs, regaining control of her emotions by sheer will power. She knew she shouldn't let Harry anger her this way; he was often thoughtless, but never intentionally so, and she knew she was already tired and overwrought and prone to overreacting.
She hung her dressing gown on a hook on the back of the door, dropped her bag on the counter, then sat on the edge of the bath to turn on the water. As she held her fingers beneath the water, waiting for it to warm up, she was reminded of the conversation she'd had with her mother the other day as they washed up from supper. Mum had done all the talking; Ginny had been forced to listen in mute horror as her mother explained that, though she would never think to speak ill of Ginny's father or Harry, the plain truth was that, when it came to matters of intimacy, men were quite lacking in finesse. Furthermore, given that the Dursleys had deprived him of the affection all children needed, Harry was probably even more naïve than most. At the time Ginny hadn't wanted to encourage her mother to go into greater detail -- Mum's archaic euphemisms were more than sufficient to warm Ginny's cheeks -- by admitting that she already had a pretty good idea of just how naïve Harry was, or how she knew this.
Now, though, upon hindsight, she wished she'd listened more carefully. Her mother hadn't borne seven children in a vacuum, no matter what some of Ginny's brothers might think. And though Mum might seem old-fashioned on the outside, Ginny knew a lot of that was for show. No woman could raise Charlie or Fred and George to manhood and keep her prudishness wholly intact.
The water had warmed enough to her liking, so Ginny turned on the shower tap and unwound the sheet from around her. As she did so, she spotted a couple of distinctive stains that brought back memories of the night before in a flood of sensations.
She had never intended to be a virgin on her wedding night, but the very idea of intimacy seemed to frighten Harry so badly she had been reluctant to push him before he was ready. It was a miracle he'd even found the courage to pursue her. What little physical intimacy they'd experienced before yesterday had been fleeting and mostly innocent; though her brothers might have approved, Ginny's friends, had they known, would have been scandalized to learn that it had taken months for Harry to work up the courage just to touch her covered breast, and several weeks more to do so under her robes. She hadn't dared try to touch him even over his trousers. When he'd asked her to marry him, she'd had to swallow the temptation to ask if he realized that, as her husband, he'd be expected to let her do that, and more.
His fear -- his innocence and inexperience of affection -- had unfairly earned him a reputation for being cold and distant, not to mention the persistent rumors about his sexuality. Few girls at Hogwarts had had the patience to discover just how much he craved closeness, but was afraid to give in to that need lest he make himself too vulnerable. Even Ginny had asked herself at times if he was worth the trouble, but once he learned to trust her enough to lower his barriers and give her a glimpse inside his heart, she understood and accepted the challenge.
His enthusiasm last night -- and again just recently -- had astonished her. It was as though he had decided he could finally expose himself both physically and emotionally, and completely give himself over to her. It was a side of Harry she wasn't accustomed to, and in a way it frightened her. She had been so focused on her own emotions and sensations last night she hadn't taken into consideration what must have been going through Harry's mind. What must it have been like for him to touch her the way he had, to let her touch him, to enter her for the first time, to come inside of her? He'd spent so many years repressing his emotions and protecting himself from heartbreak it must have been overwhelming to surrender himself to her. And yet he'd come back for more.
The warm water cascaded in sheets over her body, washing away her aches and worries. She and Harry were married now. They'd made a solemn promise to love each other for the rest of their lives, through all the ups and downs that life could bring. With You-Know-Who a rapidly fading memory and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement rounding up stray Death Eaters, Ginny hoped to have many years together with Harry. A simple lovers' quarrel was hardly anything to nurse a grudge over. She loved Harry; she loved his intensity, his moods, his competitiveness, his urgent desire to please, his laugh, the way his hair refused to lie flat, and all the thousands of little things she had yet to discover about him that made him so uniquely Harry. Above all else, she loved him for finding the courage, against the odds, to love her.
Feeling refreshed, Ginny turned off the tap and reached for the nearest towel. It must have been the same one Harry had used; it was damp, and smelled so strongly of him it was as though he were standing before her. She held it to her nose and inhaled deeply, remembering how it had felt to fall asleep in his arms, skin against skin, her leg draped over his, his heart beating steadily beneath her as she pillowed her head on his chest, his shallow breaths stirring her hair. She had the rest of her life to enjoy that with him, and she wanted it to start now.
Eager to be with him again, Ginny toweled off quickly, put on her dressing gown, scrubbed her face, brushed her teeth, and combed the excess water and tangles from her hair. She examined her reflection and took a deep breath. "You're a married woman now, Ginevra Potter," she said. "No turning back."
"Go get him, honey," the mirror responded archly.
Harry looked up from where he lay stretched out on his side as she emerged from the lavatory and gave her a shy smile. He had his chess set laid out before him, all the men carefully set in their places. The white pieces were on the side nearest her. "Hi," he said.
"Hi." She returned her toiletries bag to her valise. "Why is your chess set out? Why did you even bring it with you?"
He shrugged. "I reckon I thought it would be a good way to pass the time." His eyes were wide and his expression boyishly hopeful as he watched her take a seat across the board from him. "D'you want to have a go?"
She smiled, wondering if he was aware of the double entendre. "I'd love to have a go, Harry."
Her queen's side knight, eager for play to begin, brandished his sword, nearly impaling the pawn in front of him with it. Ginny laughed and gave the poor fellow a nudge. "Right then, you go first," she said, "before he maims you."
Harry followed up her opening gambit with one of his own. Soon their pieces were scattered across the board while a few of their mortally wounded comrades lay off to the side. Ginny knew she and Harry were fairly evenly matched, but she wasn't too focused on winning. It was nice, she thought, just to be able to have these few moments to relax and be at ease with him. The butterflies that had been fluttering in her stomach all morning seemed finally to be at rest.
She had followed Harry's example and stretched out lengthwise on the bed. Their feet were close enough to each other that if she stretched her legs she could caress Harry's ankle with her toes. Just to see how he'd respond, she gave it a try.
His gasp was barely audible and his hand shook as he prodded his king's side rook forward, but he gave no overt response. Undaunted, Ginny inched down and rubbed her foot against his calf. This time Harry's cheeks turned pink and his lips curved in a tiny smile.
She rubbed her foot against his calf again, angling her toes downward to reach the sensitive skin behind his knee. Before she could pull away, however, he'd lunged forward and grabbed her foot, knocking down a bishop, who made a rude gesture in response. "D'you mind?" he growled, though she could see the laughter in his eyes. "You're disrupting my concentration."
"Am I now?" she asked, laughing, as she wiggled her toes against his wrist.
His slim, strong fingers tightened their grip around her ankle and he slowly pulled her towards him, knocking the chess pieces all over the place. His eyes had grown dark and his breathing ragged. Suddenly, her butterflies were wide awake and fluttering madly. His hand had moved up her leg and was now moving in small, gentle circles across the surface, ever so slowly inching closer to her inner thigh. Ginny sucked her lower lip between her teeth when he brushed against a particularly sensitive spot and her flesh jumped at the contact.
She wasn't going to stop him this time. She wanted him to continue, to give himself to her in this most intimate of ways. She wanted him to know he could be completely defenseless with her. With this in mind, she willed him to look at her, and when he did, she moved closer to him and lifted her hand to his chest, slipping it beneath the gap in his dressing gown.
His skin was warm to the touch. It trembled and quivered as she ran the tips of her fingers across it, tracing the outline of his collarbone, then down across his chest and following the course of a rib until it curved around his side. She tilted her head when he raised his hand to cradle her neck and the back of her head with his spread fingers. His thumb caressed her temple as he applied just enough pressure to bring her in for a kiss.
Her hand slipped further into the darkness, following the rib's path until it met his spine, then trailed up and down his backbone. She felt a tug down near her waist as he loosened the sash on her dressing gown and moved closer to him, lifting a leg to drape it over his and against his hip.
His breath was hot and moist against her throat, and the vibrations his mouth made against her skin as he moaned sent a frisson of desire deep into her belly. She reached up with both hands to push his dressing gown down past his shoulders but had to pause when the pull of his mouth on her breast shocked her into breathlessness. Unable to hold herself up any longer she leaned back, grasping the knot of his dressing gown sash to bring him down with her.
The movement had loosened the knot, so she quickly untied the sash and helped him remove his dressing gown until he lay naked and exposed beside her. He was trembling all over.
Harry's eyes were wide and fearful as she propped herself up on one arm to look down at him. He seemed afraid even to breathe; when she skimmed her fingers across his chest and down the thin line of black hairs leading to his groin he inhaled so sharply his body shuddered and he squeezed his eyes shut. Once again she found herself hating You-Know-Who and the Dursleys for denying Harry the ability to surrender control and give himself up to love. "It's okay," she murmured next to his ear before kissing the corner of his mouth. "I love you."
He turned towards the sound of her voice. "I love you too," he whispered into her mouth.
He whimpered when her hand brushed against the tip of his erection. Fascinated by his reaction, she drew back to look at him. Except for that tantalizing glimpse he'd given her earlier, she hadn't really had a chance before. The skin of his penis was softer than she'd expected, sliding beneath her palm like the finest velvet. It was warm, too, and seemed to have a life of its own as it jumped at her touch.
Harry's strangled cry made her pull back in alarm, afraid she'd hurt him. "Sorry," she said.
He grabbed her hand and put it right back where it had been. "Don't stop."
Curiosity overcame embarrassment. She grasped his penis more firmly, stroking it like she'd once seen Ron do when he didn't realize his bedroom door was open and she'd got an eyeful. Harry's resulting groan was drawn out as he surged into her hand, his hips lifting clear off the bed. Enthralled by his response she pumped several times in rapid succession. The skin at the tip was looser and more pliable, pulling back with the movement of her hand to reveal the darkened head.
At another protracted groan from Harry, Ginny turned to study his face. His expression was the picture of intense concentration; his brow was deeply furrowed and she could see the muscles in his cheek clenching and unclenching like his fists in the bedsheet as he struggled to keep himself in check. A dark flush had spread across his chest and the hairs across it were standing on end, but still he held on.
"Let yourself go, Harry," she said.
His eyes snapped open and looked up at her anxiously and his tongue darted out to moisten dry lips. Ginny nodded, then leaned down to kiss him just as she stroked him several more times. She swallowed most of the cry that erupted from his throat when his control finally snapped.
She could feel his entire body shaking next to hers as he gradually came back to his senses. "Harry?" she asked. "Harry, are you okay?"
His eyes were brimming with tears when he turned to look at her. She lifted a hand to run it through his hair and then press her palm against his cheek. "What's wrong?"
He shook his head. "I don't deserve you," he whispered hoarsely.
"What are you on about?"
"Why did you marry me?"
He looked so defenseless, so vulnerable, she marveled at the courage it must take him to expose himself to her. "Oh, Harry, you daft prat, I love you," she said, throwing her arm across his chest and nestling her head against his neck. "Why else would I marry you?"
She felt his shoulder rise and descend in a shrug. "Maybe Ron put you under an Imperius Curse?"
"Ron couldn't Imperio a garden gnome." She leaned up to kiss the underside of his jaw. "Now stop all this foolishness, Harry. I made a promise to spend the rest of my life with you, and I intend to see it through."
He lifted up his glasses to wipe away the tears that had finally begun to trickle down his cheeks. "I really don't deserve you," he said, settling the glasses back on his nose and pushing them up with his forefinger.
"Bollocks. You can't get shut of me that easily."
His laugh as it reverberated in his chest beneath her arm was the most welcome sound in the world, and she found herself laughing with him. Gradually the tension that she had felt creeping into him ebbed and he lay quiet next to her.
After their laughter had subsided he said, "I really should clean myself up." He sat up and reached for his wand, sweeping it across his torso as he uttered a Cleaning Spell. Then he set his wand on the bedside table and turned back to her.
Ginny felt the butterflies come back to life as Harry looked down at her. "I really don't know what I did to deserve you, Ginny," he murmured, cupping her cheek in his hand, "but I'll do everything in my power to prove my worth."
The nakedness in his gaze pierced her heart. "I'll do everything in my power to prove you are already worthy," she said, reaching up to clasp her arms around his neck and pull him down for a kiss.
It didn't take long for their kisses to grow deeper and more intense. Soon hands started to roam, exploring areas that were only just beginning to become familiar. Harry's soft lips left her mouth and began to move downwards with the rest of him, pressing themselves against her throat, or suckling at a breast, or opening to let his tongue glide across her navel.
She instinctively drew her knees up when he brushed his nose between her legs, sniffing audibly, and then again when a fingertip made tentative contact. He pulled back at her gasp, then touched her again, applying delicate pressure here and there as he listened, head cocked to one side, for her responses. Soon the gentle touches become more sustained, more sure of themselves. Ginny found herself wondering what had possessed Harry to do this, though she wasn't about to stop and ask him now; setting aside the pleasure he was giving her, she was thrilled beyond measure just to know he was willing to try.
When his tongue touched her she nearly jumped out of her skin. She gave a nervous glance downward. His eyes, made to appear larger by his glasses, watching her, sober and intense in their scrutiny, drove her half-mad with desire. She swallowed and nodded, giving him permission to continue.
His fine, baby-soft hair tickled the insides of her thighs, making her twitch and shiver. The sight of his black-thatched head bobbing up and down between her legs was so incongruous it almost made her laugh, but by then he'd found a rhythm and she had to close her eyes and clutch at the sheets to contain herself. She could feel an odd sensation coiling deep within her body as her muscles tensed until she was as taut as a bowstring. Then the string snapped and she heard ringing in her ears as trembling overcame her.
He was inside her before the contractions subsided. Astonished, Ginny opened her eyes to find Harry's face mere inches from hers, his lips glistening, his pupils dilated so far his irises were mere ribbons of green around the edges. She reached up to remove his glasses, tossing them to the foot of the bed just in time to meet his thrust head on.
As he lifted himself to pull back, she glanced downward; the sight of where their two bodies joined, coupled with the sensation of fullness that overcame her when he pushed himself forward, awed her. Then he moved forward again and the friction of his belly against hers seemed to spread heat throughout her body, until she could feel the rhythm of his movements in every inch of muscle and every square of skin.
This time the tightening began at the base of her spine and progressed much more slowly than before. She hooked a leg over Harry's, rubbing her foot against his straining calf muscles, and grasped his hips, tilting hers upward to alter the angle of his thrusts. Yet even as she did so she reminded herself to focus on Harry, to try to see this act of coupling through his eyes, to try to understand his experience of it. She willed herself to remain grounded and watch him as he made love to her.
His forehead shone with perspiration and his eyes were tightly shut as he withdrew and plunged and withdrew. A lock of hair flopped in his eyes, waving in time with his rocking inside of her. His biceps shuddered with the effort it took to hold himself up. Each time he pushed forward, a soft grunt escaped his half-opened mouth.
Suddenly his entire body stiffened and he threw back his head with a groan, exposing his slender, pale throat to her. She embraced him tightly, clinging to him as he rode out his orgasm. When the shaking subsided and he withdrew from her, she cradled his head against her breast, hoping the steady beat of her heart would reassure him that he would always be safe with her. They had a long way to go, Ginny knew, before Harry could feel completely free to drop his defenses for her, but she was patient, and she loved him so much. She'd gladly spend the rest of her life filling the void the Dursleys had left in his heart. And, she hoped, the time would come when their children would do the same for him.
Soon his ragged breathing grew deeper and more measured, until she knew he'd dropped off to sleep. After planting a kiss on the top of his head she murmured, "I love you, Harry," then slowly relaxed until sleep overcame her as well.
Rating: NC-17
Summary: The morning after her wedding to Harry, Ginny is having to come to terms with the life-altering step she has just taken, not least of all the challenge of overcoming the emotional deprivation Harry endured as a child. Written prior to the release of HBP.
DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns the Harry Potter universe and everything it encompasses. This is a work of fan fiction, and thus derives no profit or material benefit therefrom.
Note: This was previously posted on Hand Me My Robes and Essence of Valor under the author name "Baba O'Riley." We are one and the same. :-)
Full nakedness! All joys are due to thee,
As souls unbodied, bodies unclothed must be,
To taste whole joys. (John Donne, "To His Mistress Going to Bed")
Ginny awoke to the sound of water running. Slightly befuddled, she propped herself up on her elbows and looked around. She was in a bedroom, no doubt about that, but not like any bedroom she remembered having ever slept in before. When she twisted to one side to get a closer look at the clock on the bedside table, however, the twinge in her groin and the sudden revelation that she hadn't a stitch of clothing on brought everything back with a sharp "Oh!"
She'd got married yesterday.
But where was her husband? she wondered as she sat up, pulling up the bedsheet to cover her exposed breasts. Why wasn't Harry lying naked in bed beside her?
The groan of ancient pipes as the water turned off in the adjoining room answered her question. He must have awakened before she did and decided to take a shower. Her stomach filled with butterflies. If his shower was done, then odds were he'd be emerging from the lavatory any moment now. It would be the first time they'd have had to face each other in broad daylight since... last night.
The click of a door unlocking sent her scrambling to wrap the sheet more tightly around her torso. She realized, too late, that her dressing gown was still packed in her valise; she hoped Harry would be a gentleman and avert his eyes when time came for her to make a dash for the loo.
The door opened to reveal her new husband wrapped in a thick white dressing gown, his hair still damp from the shower, his glasses slightly fogged by steam. Ginny pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged them. "Hi," she said.
He turned beet red and ducked his head down to hide the goofy grin that had suddenly blossomed across his face. "Hi."
"Have you been up long?"
"No. Er... lavatory's free, if you want to take a shower."
"Thanks. I'm okay for now."
"Oh. Okay."
He dropped down in an easy chair across from her. His thighs unconsciously spread, widening the gap in his dressing gown and giving her a clear view of what lay beyond. She was tempted to point this out to him at first, then thought better of it; though she knew she had the rest of her life to get to know that particular part of his anatomy on very intimate terms, as of this morning it was still a strange and fascinating thing. Not staring at it too overtly would be a challenge, though. She willed herself to focus on Harry's handsome face instead.
"Did you sleep well?" She felt her cheeks grow warm at the memory of what had happened before sleep overtook her.
The goofy grin was back, though this time he made no effort to hide it. "Yeah. You?"
"Mostly."
He played with the sash of his dressing gown. "D'you want me to order up some breakfast?"
Her stomach growled noisily in response. "I reckon that's a 'yes'," she said with a laugh.
He laughed with her as he retrieved his wand from the pocket of the dress robes he'd worn yesterday. "Any special requests?"
"Coffee, juice and pastries will do."
"Coffee, juice and pastries it is, then." He followed the instructions in a pamphlet the concierge had given them upon check-in, and in less than a minute a heavily-laden tray appeared on the dinette by the balcony.
"D'you want to eat outside?" Harry asked, holding a hand out to her.
Ginny shook her head. "I'd rather stay here, if you don't mind."
"Oh." He looked disappointed at first, then turned pink. "Oh! Okay. Of course." He Levitated the tray over to the bed. "D'you mind--?" he asked, gesturing to the empty spot beside her.
"Of course, Harry," she said with a smile. "I'm hardly going to turn my own husband out of our bed on the first day of our honeymoon."
The coffee he'd just tried to swallow went all over the place. Ginny held the sheet across her chest with one hand and reached over to pound at Harry's back with the other. "Are you okay?" she asked.
He nodded, though tears ran down his face. "You've got to give me time to get used to the idea of being married before you go saying things like that," he croaked.
"Sorry," she said, scooting closer to put an arm around his waist and rest her cheek against his arm. "If it helps any, this is just as strange for me as it is for you."
He turned his head to look down at her. His eyes, always such a startling shade of green, seemed so much more so when viewed at close range through the distortion of his glasses. She felt her heart jump in response and the butterflies renew their frenetic fluttering. "Really?" he asked, licking his lips.
"Yeah," was all she managed to get out before he leaned down and kissed her.
Whether she drew him down or his weight brought him over her she couldn't say, but it didn't take long before she found herself entangled in his ardent embrace. She responded eagerly, arching her back and grasping at his hips to pull him closer. In her eagerness she forgot to keep herself covered. She gasped when the cool air hit her breast, then again when his warm hand engulfed it. And when he lowered his head to suckle at it, she moaned out loud. Somewhere in the dim recesses of her mind she worried about the mess they'd make if -- when -- one of them kicked the breakfast tray off the bed in a spasm of ecstasy.
That spasm never came, however, because when Harry's lower body tried to nudge its way between her thighs, the strained muscles in her groin cried out in protest and she found herself pushing him away. "Harry... wait... please..." she gasped.
He lifted himself off of her, supporting his weight on his arms. His glasses were askew, his hair flopped down in his eyes, and his dressing gown had been pushed down just below his shoulders. "What's wrong?" he asked, his voice thick and husky.
"I'm sorry," she said. She felt tears of embarrassment spring to her eyes. "It's just -- I'm not accustomed to -- you know --" She covered her eyes with her hand, afraid to see the hurt and disappointment in his face.
Harry rolled off her with a groan. "Dammit."
If Ginny didn't feel miserable before, she certainly did now. She also felt angry. "Excuse me for not wanting to spread my legs for you at the drop of a hat," she snapped, moving away from him. She yanked the sheet back up to cover her nakedness. "Merlin forbid I need time to get used to being married."
She waited for his response, but he'd flung his arm across his eyes and gave no indication he'd even heard her. If not for the very prominent erection jutting out through the folds of his dressing gown and his rapid, shallow breathing, she'd have thought he'd dropped off to sleep.
"Thanks for being so understanding, Harry," she muttered under her breath. "Suit yourself." She tugged the sheet free and scooted to the edge of the bed to wrap it around herself. A final look over her shoulder told her that Harry hadn't moved, hadn't even noticed. In fact, his free hand had strayed down past his waist and was now slowly stroking his penis.
That was the final straw. Ginny went to her valise as quickly as she could without tripping over the sheet, grabbed her toiletries bag, dressing gown and wand, then fled for the safety of the lavatory, slamming and locking the door behind her.
Once inside the lavatory Ginny took several deep draughts of air into her lungs, regaining control of her emotions by sheer will power. She knew she shouldn't let Harry anger her this way; he was often thoughtless, but never intentionally so, and she knew she was already tired and overwrought and prone to overreacting.
She hung her dressing gown on a hook on the back of the door, dropped her bag on the counter, then sat on the edge of the bath to turn on the water. As she held her fingers beneath the water, waiting for it to warm up, she was reminded of the conversation she'd had with her mother the other day as they washed up from supper. Mum had done all the talking; Ginny had been forced to listen in mute horror as her mother explained that, though she would never think to speak ill of Ginny's father or Harry, the plain truth was that, when it came to matters of intimacy, men were quite lacking in finesse. Furthermore, given that the Dursleys had deprived him of the affection all children needed, Harry was probably even more naïve than most. At the time Ginny hadn't wanted to encourage her mother to go into greater detail -- Mum's archaic euphemisms were more than sufficient to warm Ginny's cheeks -- by admitting that she already had a pretty good idea of just how naïve Harry was, or how she knew this.
Now, though, upon hindsight, she wished she'd listened more carefully. Her mother hadn't borne seven children in a vacuum, no matter what some of Ginny's brothers might think. And though Mum might seem old-fashioned on the outside, Ginny knew a lot of that was for show. No woman could raise Charlie or Fred and George to manhood and keep her prudishness wholly intact.
The water had warmed enough to her liking, so Ginny turned on the shower tap and unwound the sheet from around her. As she did so, she spotted a couple of distinctive stains that brought back memories of the night before in a flood of sensations.
She had never intended to be a virgin on her wedding night, but the very idea of intimacy seemed to frighten Harry so badly she had been reluctant to push him before he was ready. It was a miracle he'd even found the courage to pursue her. What little physical intimacy they'd experienced before yesterday had been fleeting and mostly innocent; though her brothers might have approved, Ginny's friends, had they known, would have been scandalized to learn that it had taken months for Harry to work up the courage just to touch her covered breast, and several weeks more to do so under her robes. She hadn't dared try to touch him even over his trousers. When he'd asked her to marry him, she'd had to swallow the temptation to ask if he realized that, as her husband, he'd be expected to let her do that, and more.
His fear -- his innocence and inexperience of affection -- had unfairly earned him a reputation for being cold and distant, not to mention the persistent rumors about his sexuality. Few girls at Hogwarts had had the patience to discover just how much he craved closeness, but was afraid to give in to that need lest he make himself too vulnerable. Even Ginny had asked herself at times if he was worth the trouble, but once he learned to trust her enough to lower his barriers and give her a glimpse inside his heart, she understood and accepted the challenge.
His enthusiasm last night -- and again just recently -- had astonished her. It was as though he had decided he could finally expose himself both physically and emotionally, and completely give himself over to her. It was a side of Harry she wasn't accustomed to, and in a way it frightened her. She had been so focused on her own emotions and sensations last night she hadn't taken into consideration what must have been going through Harry's mind. What must it have been like for him to touch her the way he had, to let her touch him, to enter her for the first time, to come inside of her? He'd spent so many years repressing his emotions and protecting himself from heartbreak it must have been overwhelming to surrender himself to her. And yet he'd come back for more.
The warm water cascaded in sheets over her body, washing away her aches and worries. She and Harry were married now. They'd made a solemn promise to love each other for the rest of their lives, through all the ups and downs that life could bring. With You-Know-Who a rapidly fading memory and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement rounding up stray Death Eaters, Ginny hoped to have many years together with Harry. A simple lovers' quarrel was hardly anything to nurse a grudge over. She loved Harry; she loved his intensity, his moods, his competitiveness, his urgent desire to please, his laugh, the way his hair refused to lie flat, and all the thousands of little things she had yet to discover about him that made him so uniquely Harry. Above all else, she loved him for finding the courage, against the odds, to love her.
Feeling refreshed, Ginny turned off the tap and reached for the nearest towel. It must have been the same one Harry had used; it was damp, and smelled so strongly of him it was as though he were standing before her. She held it to her nose and inhaled deeply, remembering how it had felt to fall asleep in his arms, skin against skin, her leg draped over his, his heart beating steadily beneath her as she pillowed her head on his chest, his shallow breaths stirring her hair. She had the rest of her life to enjoy that with him, and she wanted it to start now.
Eager to be with him again, Ginny toweled off quickly, put on her dressing gown, scrubbed her face, brushed her teeth, and combed the excess water and tangles from her hair. She examined her reflection and took a deep breath. "You're a married woman now, Ginevra Potter," she said. "No turning back."
"Go get him, honey," the mirror responded archly.
Harry looked up from where he lay stretched out on his side as she emerged from the lavatory and gave her a shy smile. He had his chess set laid out before him, all the men carefully set in their places. The white pieces were on the side nearest her. "Hi," he said.
"Hi." She returned her toiletries bag to her valise. "Why is your chess set out? Why did you even bring it with you?"
He shrugged. "I reckon I thought it would be a good way to pass the time." His eyes were wide and his expression boyishly hopeful as he watched her take a seat across the board from him. "D'you want to have a go?"
She smiled, wondering if he was aware of the double entendre. "I'd love to have a go, Harry."
Her queen's side knight, eager for play to begin, brandished his sword, nearly impaling the pawn in front of him with it. Ginny laughed and gave the poor fellow a nudge. "Right then, you go first," she said, "before he maims you."
Harry followed up her opening gambit with one of his own. Soon their pieces were scattered across the board while a few of their mortally wounded comrades lay off to the side. Ginny knew she and Harry were fairly evenly matched, but she wasn't too focused on winning. It was nice, she thought, just to be able to have these few moments to relax and be at ease with him. The butterflies that had been fluttering in her stomach all morning seemed finally to be at rest.
She had followed Harry's example and stretched out lengthwise on the bed. Their feet were close enough to each other that if she stretched her legs she could caress Harry's ankle with her toes. Just to see how he'd respond, she gave it a try.
His gasp was barely audible and his hand shook as he prodded his king's side rook forward, but he gave no overt response. Undaunted, Ginny inched down and rubbed her foot against his calf. This time Harry's cheeks turned pink and his lips curved in a tiny smile.
She rubbed her foot against his calf again, angling her toes downward to reach the sensitive skin behind his knee. Before she could pull away, however, he'd lunged forward and grabbed her foot, knocking down a bishop, who made a rude gesture in response. "D'you mind?" he growled, though she could see the laughter in his eyes. "You're disrupting my concentration."
"Am I now?" she asked, laughing, as she wiggled her toes against his wrist.
His slim, strong fingers tightened their grip around her ankle and he slowly pulled her towards him, knocking the chess pieces all over the place. His eyes had grown dark and his breathing ragged. Suddenly, her butterflies were wide awake and fluttering madly. His hand had moved up her leg and was now moving in small, gentle circles across the surface, ever so slowly inching closer to her inner thigh. Ginny sucked her lower lip between her teeth when he brushed against a particularly sensitive spot and her flesh jumped at the contact.
She wasn't going to stop him this time. She wanted him to continue, to give himself to her in this most intimate of ways. She wanted him to know he could be completely defenseless with her. With this in mind, she willed him to look at her, and when he did, she moved closer to him and lifted her hand to his chest, slipping it beneath the gap in his dressing gown.
His skin was warm to the touch. It trembled and quivered as she ran the tips of her fingers across it, tracing the outline of his collarbone, then down across his chest and following the course of a rib until it curved around his side. She tilted her head when he raised his hand to cradle her neck and the back of her head with his spread fingers. His thumb caressed her temple as he applied just enough pressure to bring her in for a kiss.
Her hand slipped further into the darkness, following the rib's path until it met his spine, then trailed up and down his backbone. She felt a tug down near her waist as he loosened the sash on her dressing gown and moved closer to him, lifting a leg to drape it over his and against his hip.
His breath was hot and moist against her throat, and the vibrations his mouth made against her skin as he moaned sent a frisson of desire deep into her belly. She reached up with both hands to push his dressing gown down past his shoulders but had to pause when the pull of his mouth on her breast shocked her into breathlessness. Unable to hold herself up any longer she leaned back, grasping the knot of his dressing gown sash to bring him down with her.
The movement had loosened the knot, so she quickly untied the sash and helped him remove his dressing gown until he lay naked and exposed beside her. He was trembling all over.
Harry's eyes were wide and fearful as she propped herself up on one arm to look down at him. He seemed afraid even to breathe; when she skimmed her fingers across his chest and down the thin line of black hairs leading to his groin he inhaled so sharply his body shuddered and he squeezed his eyes shut. Once again she found herself hating You-Know-Who and the Dursleys for denying Harry the ability to surrender control and give himself up to love. "It's okay," she murmured next to his ear before kissing the corner of his mouth. "I love you."
He turned towards the sound of her voice. "I love you too," he whispered into her mouth.
He whimpered when her hand brushed against the tip of his erection. Fascinated by his reaction, she drew back to look at him. Except for that tantalizing glimpse he'd given her earlier, she hadn't really had a chance before. The skin of his penis was softer than she'd expected, sliding beneath her palm like the finest velvet. It was warm, too, and seemed to have a life of its own as it jumped at her touch.
Harry's strangled cry made her pull back in alarm, afraid she'd hurt him. "Sorry," she said.
He grabbed her hand and put it right back where it had been. "Don't stop."
Curiosity overcame embarrassment. She grasped his penis more firmly, stroking it like she'd once seen Ron do when he didn't realize his bedroom door was open and she'd got an eyeful. Harry's resulting groan was drawn out as he surged into her hand, his hips lifting clear off the bed. Enthralled by his response she pumped several times in rapid succession. The skin at the tip was looser and more pliable, pulling back with the movement of her hand to reveal the darkened head.
At another protracted groan from Harry, Ginny turned to study his face. His expression was the picture of intense concentration; his brow was deeply furrowed and she could see the muscles in his cheek clenching and unclenching like his fists in the bedsheet as he struggled to keep himself in check. A dark flush had spread across his chest and the hairs across it were standing on end, but still he held on.
"Let yourself go, Harry," she said.
His eyes snapped open and looked up at her anxiously and his tongue darted out to moisten dry lips. Ginny nodded, then leaned down to kiss him just as she stroked him several more times. She swallowed most of the cry that erupted from his throat when his control finally snapped.
She could feel his entire body shaking next to hers as he gradually came back to his senses. "Harry?" she asked. "Harry, are you okay?"
His eyes were brimming with tears when he turned to look at her. She lifted a hand to run it through his hair and then press her palm against his cheek. "What's wrong?"
He shook his head. "I don't deserve you," he whispered hoarsely.
"What are you on about?"
"Why did you marry me?"
He looked so defenseless, so vulnerable, she marveled at the courage it must take him to expose himself to her. "Oh, Harry, you daft prat, I love you," she said, throwing her arm across his chest and nestling her head against his neck. "Why else would I marry you?"
She felt his shoulder rise and descend in a shrug. "Maybe Ron put you under an Imperius Curse?"
"Ron couldn't Imperio a garden gnome." She leaned up to kiss the underside of his jaw. "Now stop all this foolishness, Harry. I made a promise to spend the rest of my life with you, and I intend to see it through."
He lifted up his glasses to wipe away the tears that had finally begun to trickle down his cheeks. "I really don't deserve you," he said, settling the glasses back on his nose and pushing them up with his forefinger.
"Bollocks. You can't get shut of me that easily."
His laugh as it reverberated in his chest beneath her arm was the most welcome sound in the world, and she found herself laughing with him. Gradually the tension that she had felt creeping into him ebbed and he lay quiet next to her.
After their laughter had subsided he said, "I really should clean myself up." He sat up and reached for his wand, sweeping it across his torso as he uttered a Cleaning Spell. Then he set his wand on the bedside table and turned back to her.
Ginny felt the butterflies come back to life as Harry looked down at her. "I really don't know what I did to deserve you, Ginny," he murmured, cupping her cheek in his hand, "but I'll do everything in my power to prove my worth."
The nakedness in his gaze pierced her heart. "I'll do everything in my power to prove you are already worthy," she said, reaching up to clasp her arms around his neck and pull him down for a kiss.
It didn't take long for their kisses to grow deeper and more intense. Soon hands started to roam, exploring areas that were only just beginning to become familiar. Harry's soft lips left her mouth and began to move downwards with the rest of him, pressing themselves against her throat, or suckling at a breast, or opening to let his tongue glide across her navel.
She instinctively drew her knees up when he brushed his nose between her legs, sniffing audibly, and then again when a fingertip made tentative contact. He pulled back at her gasp, then touched her again, applying delicate pressure here and there as he listened, head cocked to one side, for her responses. Soon the gentle touches become more sustained, more sure of themselves. Ginny found herself wondering what had possessed Harry to do this, though she wasn't about to stop and ask him now; setting aside the pleasure he was giving her, she was thrilled beyond measure just to know he was willing to try.
When his tongue touched her she nearly jumped out of her skin. She gave a nervous glance downward. His eyes, made to appear larger by his glasses, watching her, sober and intense in their scrutiny, drove her half-mad with desire. She swallowed and nodded, giving him permission to continue.
His fine, baby-soft hair tickled the insides of her thighs, making her twitch and shiver. The sight of his black-thatched head bobbing up and down between her legs was so incongruous it almost made her laugh, but by then he'd found a rhythm and she had to close her eyes and clutch at the sheets to contain herself. She could feel an odd sensation coiling deep within her body as her muscles tensed until she was as taut as a bowstring. Then the string snapped and she heard ringing in her ears as trembling overcame her.
He was inside her before the contractions subsided. Astonished, Ginny opened her eyes to find Harry's face mere inches from hers, his lips glistening, his pupils dilated so far his irises were mere ribbons of green around the edges. She reached up to remove his glasses, tossing them to the foot of the bed just in time to meet his thrust head on.
As he lifted himself to pull back, she glanced downward; the sight of where their two bodies joined, coupled with the sensation of fullness that overcame her when he pushed himself forward, awed her. Then he moved forward again and the friction of his belly against hers seemed to spread heat throughout her body, until she could feel the rhythm of his movements in every inch of muscle and every square of skin.
This time the tightening began at the base of her spine and progressed much more slowly than before. She hooked a leg over Harry's, rubbing her foot against his straining calf muscles, and grasped his hips, tilting hers upward to alter the angle of his thrusts. Yet even as she did so she reminded herself to focus on Harry, to try to see this act of coupling through his eyes, to try to understand his experience of it. She willed herself to remain grounded and watch him as he made love to her.
His forehead shone with perspiration and his eyes were tightly shut as he withdrew and plunged and withdrew. A lock of hair flopped in his eyes, waving in time with his rocking inside of her. His biceps shuddered with the effort it took to hold himself up. Each time he pushed forward, a soft grunt escaped his half-opened mouth.
Suddenly his entire body stiffened and he threw back his head with a groan, exposing his slender, pale throat to her. She embraced him tightly, clinging to him as he rode out his orgasm. When the shaking subsided and he withdrew from her, she cradled his head against her breast, hoping the steady beat of her heart would reassure him that he would always be safe with her. They had a long way to go, Ginny knew, before Harry could feel completely free to drop his defenses for her, but she was patient, and she loved him so much. She'd gladly spend the rest of her life filling the void the Dursleys had left in his heart. And, she hoped, the time would come when their children would do the same for him.
Soon his ragged breathing grew deeper and more measured, until she knew he'd dropped off to sleep. After planting a kiss on the top of his head she murmured, "I love you, Harry," then slowly relaxed until sleep overcame her as well.