Okay, the second of just three fics I have promised for people on my flist over the holiday period. Tee mrspadf00t1, this is all for you. Harry/Ginny, angst, in the rain, no missionary (I have NO idea why you made that stipulation).
TITLE: A Moment of Quiet Need
RATING: >18 (mature adult)
DISCLAIMER: The characters involved in this story are the creations of one JK Rowling and belong to her, the only thing that I own in this is the order in which the words have been written.
DEDICATION: To Tee, this is your seasonal fic, as promised
THANKS: I would like to thank the salmon, and Ronda for helping me with the title, but mostly I would like to thank the salmon.
FEEDBACK: If you think this deserves it, please…
AUTHOR’S NOTES: This is my first ever (and will remain my only) Harry/Ginny fic.
Ginny pulled back the curtains and looked out of her bedroom window. Crystalline droplets of water clung to the slightly fogged up pane, the vaguest reminder of the violent storm that had shaken the house the night before.
The house had been so quiet ever since the final battle, it was as though with the twins gone, and Ron in a coma in St Mungo’s, the life had faded from the Burrow, and with it all the laughter. She sighed, her breath steaming up the window for a moment before dissipating into nothing in the warmth of the bedroom.
She leaned her forehead against the window and studied the gardens from her lofty height at the top of the house. She could see Harry wandering out to the woods that surrounded the Burrow in the direction of the pond where, in times gone by, the Weasleys en masse had spent many warm summer afternoons, before the Death Eaters had come and destroyed everything but what remained.
“Ginny, breakfast’s ready. Can you come down and set the table?” Her mum’s voice through the partly open bedroom door dragged Ginny out of her maudlin thoughts. She slid her feet into the over-large fluffy joke slippers that Fred had given her for Christmas two years previously and walked slowly down the stairs to the kitchen.
The place settings were already hovering impatiently over the table, the butter knives clashing almost angrily against the teaspoons. Agitated, she grabbed each setting out of the air and slammed it none too gently onto the wooden tabletop, a swish of her wand making sure it didn’t rise back into the air.
“Are you going to visit Ron today, mum?” Ginny asked around a mouthful of toast and black cherry jam.
Molly looked at her daughter and with an expression devoid of hope, merely nodded. She visited her youngest son twice a week, and for those few hours she would sit beside his bed, holding his hand and praying to whatever Deity was listening for something to help him.
Feeling as though someone had slammed a fist in her stomach, Ginny put down the remaining piece of toast that she no longer had the appetite for, and pushed her chair away from the able. “I think I’ll go for a walk,” she spoke quietly, her eyes lowered, undeniable guilt coursing through her system. She hadn’t visited the hospital for nearly six-months, unable to look at Ron lying on that bed, little Muggle inspired machines that Hermione had insisted on monitoring his wellbeing. Nothing, so far, had been successful in bringing him out of the comatose state that a well-placed curse by Lucius Malfoy had put him in.
Dragging the light wool cardigan from the hook behind the back door, Ginny rushed out into the garden and headed through the small squeaky gate in the direction of the woods, the same direction she had seen Harry heading almost an hour before.
Harry was sitting on the bank of the pond, his bare feet dangling in the cool water as he stared up at the sky, studying the shapes made by the clouds gathering quickly overhead.
He turned quickly when he heard a branch crack, returning to his study of the clouds when he saw Ginny brush through the last of the densely planted trees and walk into the clearing. “Go away Ginny. I thought I already told you there was nothing left to talk about.”
Ginny kicked her shoes off and dropped down to the muddy, rain-drenched ground next to Harry, a determined expression on her face. “Who said I came here to talk?” She looked around her at the thriving woodland and then shrugged out of her cardigan, dropping that to the ground on top of her shoes. “I might have just come here to escape.” Shuffling on the spot, she pulled her dress off over her head and threw it onto the growing pile of clothing slightly behind her. “Well I’m going to have a swim. Want to join me? Or are you still thinking?” Wearing only a pair of thin cotton knickers with a little pink bow in the elasticated waistband, Ginny stood up, and wandered over to the makeshift diving board that Charlie and the twins had set up a few years before, during the hottest summer of the decade.
“Ginny!?” Harry swallowed nervously when he noticed that she was doing nothing to hide herself from him – did she even care that he could see her breasts, or that the knickers were almost see-through? “What happened to the swimsuit your mum got you?” He had to fight the sudden urge to grab her cardigan and fling it over her to hide her from his sight. Didn’t she realise that she was far too tempting?
“Oh stop being such a prude, Harry. If I didn’t know better I’d think that you’d never seen a girl naked before.” She took a step out onto the diving board and, with a grin on her face, and a defiant expression in her eyes, pushed her knickers down her legs and then picked them up and threw them down at Harry.
With a gulp, Harry looked down at the girlish, yet still sexy, knickers in his hand, before lifting them to his nose and sniffing at them, then quickly and guiltily shoving them deep into his pocket. “Ginny, what if someone sees you?” Harry’s mind was clouded. As Ginny had said, he had seen naked girls before. Since the war girls had been throwing themselves at him and he had taken a few of them up on their grateful offers. But he had never seen anything as beautiful as Ginny Weasley standing on the edge of the diving board, the sun hidden partially behind light grey clouds giving her a golden ethereal glow.
Groaning, and closing his eyes against the sight of Ginny’s gently rounded breasts bouncing slightly as she jumped on the edge of the diving board, Harry made his way back to the waters edge and sat down, his feet back in the water. “Looks like you could do with a cold shower,” Ginny giggled as she floated on her back, her hands behind her head, almost at his feet.
Tempted to do just that, Harry unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged it off his shoulders, then dropped his hand to his fly, slowly pulling down the zipper until an arrow of dark hair was revealed, the tip of his uncomfortable erection poking through the slit of his proudly Gryffindor boxers. “If not a cold shower, then perhaps you should…”
She didn’t get the chance to say anything else. Ignoring the fact that his jeans were uncomfortably hitched on his bony hips, Harry slipped into the water, grabbed Ginny by the shoulders and crashed his lips down against hers, silencing her, stealing her breath.
Somehow his hands made it from her shoulders to the curve of her arse, his fingers squeezing her lightly and pulling her closer. “You feel so good,” Harry breathed the words against Ginny’s pale throat, his teeth nipping at the sensitive flesh, the sound of her gasping in pleasure sending shivers down his spine.
Driven by desperation, Ginny wrapped her legs around his hips and used her feet to push his boxers down to his knees. She knew that the slightest movement in the wrong direction could possibly overbalance them both, but right now all she cared about was getting closer to Harry, being part of Harry, feeling Harry become a part of her!
“Harry, please…” Her head fell back as Harry brushed light kisses across her neck and shoulders. “I need you.”
As he slipped a single digit, and then another, into her from behind, his hands still curved around her cheeks, she dug her feet into the hollow of his back, a guttural growl escaped her lips and her whole being was focused completely on Harry’s fingers inside her.
Unable to concentrate on anything, even the knowledge that they could, at any moment, be discovered, Harry moved them both until Ginny’s arse cheeks were resting on the bank.
Leaning back on her hands, Ginny loosened her legs from around Harry’s waist and spread them wider, the scent of her desire floated like a fog around them even as he slipped his fingers from inside her and sucked them into his mouth. The taste of her arousal was almost as overpowering as her perfume and Harry savoured it, and the need for it was fuelling his own desire even more.
Unable to hold back any longer, Harry pulled Ginny to the edge of the bank and using one hand to guide himself, slipped the tip of his erection into her damp heat. The moment she started to accept him he closed his eyes, a droplet of sweat dripping down his cheek like a single tear, and thrust home.
Ginny felt like she was dying. This was nothing like her fantasies, those school girl dreams so blinded by the minute passion they had shared when they had been in school. Everything she had done up to this moment with Harry had been nothing in comparison with this. She felt so full, so complete and she wanted nothing more than for this to last.
Arching her back, thrusting the full curve of her breasts up to the sky, Ginny rocked her hips against Harry’s, relishing the feel of him moving against and inside her. A primal cry of pleasure left her lips and the heavens opened, the rain had become their primitive drumbeat. Her fingers curled into the muddy ground beneath her as she fought to maintain her balance, the sensation of the slippery dirt under her fingernails doing little to distract her from the feeling of Harry’s body pressing against hers.
Harry could feel his control slipping away. He dug his fingers roughly into her hips as he thrust inside her, his head rolling back, his breath coming in harsh pants. He could no sooner have denied himself this than he could have denied himself bread and water. He was so close, one…more…roll…of his hips and he tipped over the edge of the cliff into black nothingness.
He collapsed on top of Ginny’s supine body, his every breath loud in the silence of the woodland. He was still inside her, his whole body throbbing from his release, but he could feel she needed something more. He slipped one hand between their bodies and, with three sure strokes of the pad of his thumb against her swollen, pulsing clit she came with a howl that caused the birds on the topmost branches of the trees scattering.
Her whole body felt swollen and sore, but it was a good kind of sore. She wrapped her arms around Harry and pulled her down until his face was buried in her neck, their legs intertwined, their breath intermingling.
“I love you Harry.” Ginny managed to utter against his cheek even as she felt him pulling away from her.
“I know,” he couldn’t say anything else. However much he felt for her, he was still responsible for so much, still had so far to travel.
“You’re leaving, aren’t you?” she forced herself to ask as she watched him turn away from her and cast a spell, instantly drying his jeans.
“You know I can’t stay,” he swallowed back the misery that suddenly engulfed him, he couldn’t weaken.
“I guess I was fooling myself,” she curled up, wrapped her arms around her legs and pulled them to her stomach as she watched him finish dressing and pick up the bag that had been slightly hidden in the marshes.
“I’ll come back,” even as he said the words he knew that they might not be the truth.
“I’ll miss you,” she whispered the words as he hoisted the bag onto his shoulder and picked up the Portkey that Moody had created for him.
“I’ll never forget,” the words were a mere echo as the Portkey was activated, and with a simple pop he was gone.