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Queen of the Cardboard Jungle (![[info]](http://www.journalfen.net/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} beccafran) wrote in ![[info]](http://www.journalfen.net/img/community.gif){kind=small} smutty_claus,@ 2008-12-29 08:58:00 |
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| Entry tags: | harry/ginny |
FIC: Private Gifts (Harry/Ginny)
To: almond_joyz
From: Your Secret Santa
Title: Private Gifts
Author: dragyn_42
Pairing: Harry/Ginny
Summary: Harry and Ginny are home from their last year at Hogwarts for the holidays, need more be said?
Words: ~6100
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: none
Author's notes: Wow, my first exchange ever and its for
Harry slowly came awake. He hadn’t opened his eyes yet, and he was trying to figure out what woke him. There it was again; something was tickling his face. He brought his hand up to scratch when he noticed the familiar scent of strawberries and lavender. Ginny! Opening his eyes, he immediately focused on Ginny’s face hovering almost a foot above his own. Her mouth was curled up in a large grin while her brown eyes sparkled in mirth, her beautiful red hair framing the view by hanging down and stopping just at his skin.
“Good morning!” she chirped.
Harry grunted and grabbed her hair loosely, pulling her gently down towards him. Just inches away, she stopped him by bracing herself on his mattress, causing his hands to slip from their hold, and started sniffing. “Brush your teeth, Potter,” she laughed, standing back up and sauntering towards the door, causing Harry to moan as she swayed her hips on her way out.
Sitting up, Harry looked at the room that he had spent so much time in over the years. Ron was absent, having taken up George’s offer to ‘share’ a room with him, while Hermione made use of Fred’s old room in their flat above their store. Harry had no misconceptions about the actual room assignments taking place. But beyond Ron’s absence, it was difficult for him to reconcile the cream colored walls with the bright orange atmosphere that had previously adorned the room.
After the Final Battle, the Weasleys had returned to find their familial dwelling still intact, thanks to the magic that held it together, but many of the contents had been damaged or destroyed, and the entire house needed painting. Harry remembered Ron pitching a fit when he saw the paint he had to use for his room and he swore that he was going to redo it all in orange as soon as he could. No one bothered pointing out to him that not only was he a wizard, but of age and legally allowed to use magic to change the color.
The Burrow had needed a lot of work, but the work gave the entire extended Weasley family something to do to take their mind off of all that had happened, all of the casualties and their own losses. And after a month of work needed to fix the Burrow, the family banded together to help repair the even more damaged Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes. It was hard to work in the shop with reminders of Fred everywhere, but overall, it was an amazingly cathartic experience.
That had all happened four months ago. Since then, Harry had decided to attend his seventh year at Hogwarts with Ginny, hiding away from the Wizarding public and all of its demands on it. He and Ginny had used the summer to rekindle their relationship, and they had used their school year so far to stoke it to new levels. Ginny showed Harry how to have fun and ignore the rest of the world – in particular, she showed him how to truly make use of broom closets. Harry smiled, as he often did, as he reflected upon the activities he and Ginny had embarked upon within the closets, upon the feelings they were able to invoke in each other with the their hands, their fingers and their mouths.
And then Christmas arrived, Harry and Ginny returning to the Burrow for the holidays, which is how Harry now found himself in Ron’s room.
He eventually climbed out of bed, threw on his robe, and made his way down to the bathroom. Taking extra care to make sure his breath was minty fresh, he finished his morning routine and went down to the kitchen, still in his dressing robe. Ginny was standing up against the back of one of the kitchen chairs, leaning forward on the backrest, listening to her mother rattle off her plans for the day, Christmas Eve. Since Mrs. Weasley had her back to the kitchen while she cooked up eggs and sausages on the stove, he approached Ginny from behind and wrapped his arms around her waist, his hands coming to rest over her stomach. He placed a kiss just behind her ear, while whispering, “Good morning.”
Ginny gave a startled gasp, moaned quietly in response to his greeting and turned in his arms, placing a kiss directly on his lips. “Much better,” she smiled. “Good morning.”
Foreheads upon each other, they stood in their embrace, smiling, for nearly a minute until Mrs. Weasley spoke up. “Oh! Good morning, Harry dear. I didn’t even hear you come in. Well, as you’re up, you can help set the table. Come on now, you two,” she ordered, directing them to the stack of dishes that needed to be laid out for breakfast.
Breakfast was a relaxed affair as Mrs. Weasley laid out her plans for the day. Ron, Hermione, George and Charlie were going to be over later in the day, but until then, Harry, Ginny and Percy were welcome to do what they wanted. Percy announced that he was heading over to the store, the whole family had helped out there and George was expecting a rush of last minute gift buyers, which left Harry and Ginny time by themselves.
When breakfast was over and the table cleared, the duo went to their rooms to get dressed and went outside to take a walk and spend some time alone. They made their way down the path, through the freshly fallen snow from the night before, towards the paddock that was used as the Weasley family Quidditch pitch and crossed the field to the wood line on the other side.
Under the cover of tree branches, there were several dry spots, one of which the couple chose to sit in, leaning against the tree’s trunk. School had been all about classes and studying, except for their alone time, which had been about – well, other things. The couple hadn’t had much time to simply talk since the summer.
Being that it was Christmas, Ginny was regaling Harry with stories of holidays past. She told of the year Fred and George tried mounting a lawn gnome wearing costume angel’s wings and a tutu on the top of the tree. She told him the year Charlie got her a photo of himself petting a dragon; in fact, she still kept the photo on the table next to her bed. There was a veritable laundry list of gifts of which she shared her memories with him.
“And what about you?” she asked.
“What about me?”
“What kind of gifts have you received before?”
“Well, there was my dad’s cloak and the album Hagrid gave me, but usually its books and candy from Hermione and Ron.”
“I know that, silly. I meant before that.”
“Oh.” He paused for a minute. He loved Ginny, he showed her that as much as he could, but there were still things from his past he didn’t like sharing, things that he just wanted to forget. His childhood with the Dursleys was one of those things. After a couple breaths, he said, “There weren’t.”
“There weren’t what?” Ginny was confused.
“There weren’t any gifts... before.” His breath hitched, but he continued on. “Hagrid gave me my first birthday cake. That was really my first ever gift that I can remember. But, as for presents, those were them. I still have every sweater your mum made for me, including that first one, even though it doesn’t fit anymore.”
He heard Ginny sniff and watched as a tear made its way down her cheek.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t-”
“No,” he cut her off, brushing away the tear with his thumb. “You didn’t know. It's okay. I just... I really don’t like thinking of all the gifts I never got, that my parents never got to give me. Especially during the holidays.”
“Well, your family always gives you gifts now. How about one early?”
Ginny held his hand to her face and leaned in towards him. Their lips met and she closed her eyes. Harry wrapped his other hand into her hair and pulled her in even closer as he opened his mouth to invite her in. Once her tongue accepted the invitation, his returned the favor. They spent a fair while kissing passionately. And as Harry’s body responded, his hands started to work.
The hand wrapped in her red tresses tightened its grip and pulled, just slightly, in the way he knew she loved, and he received a moan in response. The hand on her face stroked its way down, fluttering across the soft skin of her neck, stroking across her shoulder moving her jacket away, and cupping her breast from the side. His thumb reached over and started playing back and forth over the hardening point in her shirt, causing even more moaning from her.
Her hands started moving erratically, rubbing up and down his back, grabbing his face and his hair. They continued their random movement, grabbing at his shirt, rubbing down his legs. Harry’s thumb increased its movement over her breast and his hand increased his kneading while his other hand grabbed at the back of Ginny’s neck, pulling her in closer. Ginny’s breathing grew even more irregular, her hands moving even faster across Harry’s back, and Harry’s hand moved its way down, rubbing and applying pressure through her trousers.
Ginny’s moans became higher as Harry’s manual stimulation swelled in its intensity. Finally, Ginny squeaked out in release. Harry, having done this with his girlfriend quite a few times in the past month, ceased his massaging, but kept applying pressure, prolonging her orgasm. Her breath caught in her throat through the entire climax, before she finally released it in calming breaths. Harry kept hold of her tightly with his other hand while her hands slowed down their movement across his back.
As she buried her now flushed face into his neck, she kissed him lightly and then whispered “I love you.”
Harry smiled, reveling in the three words that he had never been told before Ginny – at least, not that he could remember. He was about to respond, but instead, shrieked when Ginny’s hand grabbed his collar and snow made its way, rather forcibly, down his shirt. In his surprise, he released his hold in Ginny, flailing his arms backwards in an attempt to dislodge the snow. Ginny made use of this to scramble backwards, laughing as she went.
Betrayed, Harry looked at Ginny, shock clearly written across his face. His eyes met hers and he saw her darkened eyes in her still flushed face, but there was also mischief there that extended all the way from her smile. Just as he was comprehending what she had done, she let fly another handful of snow which caught him just on the side of his face.
“You’ve let your reflexes go, Potter!” Ginny cried as she tossed yet another snowball at him, which this time he managed to duck.
Harry took a moment to readjust himself – though the shock of the snow had all but eliminated the most pressing source of discomfort, he still needed put things right, as it were – and grabbed a handful of snow before taking off after Ginny. He cleared the wood-line and ducked as his instincts cried out and then loosed his own snowball. His reactions were, now that he wasn’t otherwise distracted, quite quick, and Ginny didn’t have the time to dodge. She shrieked out in laughter when the snowball grazed her neck.
When some of the snow melted down her back, underneath her shirt, she shrieked again, but didn’t let it distract her too much, engaging the fight in full. For nearly an hour, Ginny and Harry traded tosses of the snow, forgoing any sort of magic. Neither of them truly got the upper hand in the fight, and both of their winter coats were fairly wet with snowmelt.
In the course of their battle, however, Ginny failed to notice Harry carefully guiding her with well placed throws back to the tree-line they had emerged from earlier. She also neglected to pay attention to the distance between her and her attacker. As a result, when she reached a fairly large patch of ground shaded by a tree, she came up empty when reaching for another handful of snow, and when she looked up in surprise, she was shocked to find Harry only several strides away, holding a large armful of white, frozen snow.
“Harry?” she hesitated. “Don’t do it, Harry.”
Harry merely grinned at her, and before she could react, he jumped forward and wrapped her in a huge hug. He shoved as much snow as he could down the back of her shirt, laughing all the while to her shrieks of “No!”, and much of the snow caught between their bodies made its way down her front. Her shrieking died off to shivering stutters as Harry stood there, holding her close.
“Harry, this is nice, but I’m a bit cold, here,” she stuttered.
“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” he responded, murmuring into her ear. “Whatever shall we do to warm you up?”
As her hands did earlier, his started rubbing up and down her back in an attempt to warm her. Her arms circled his waist and she leaned up into his kiss. As his hands continued their motion for warming Ginny, her coat was moved up and out of the way, and shortly after, her blouse was pulled up and out of her jeans. Pretty soon, Harry had full access to to the skin of her back, rubbing briskly, the friction generating a fair amount of heat.
He could tell from kissing her that she was warming up; her jaw had ceased its shivering. He moved his mouth off of hers and continued his kissing, working along her jaw, nibbling at her neck. Ginny moaned and, grabbing onto Harry, the pair lowered to the ground.
They were both already out of breath from all the running around, but Ginny, it seemed to Harry, was now breathing even harder. He continued moving his hands along her back and sides, warming the cool, wet skin as he did so. Then, he carefully used one hand on her back to lower her to the fairly snow-free ground while the other made its way around her front, the rest of her blouse coming loose in its wake, to cup and rub her breasts.
Ginny, not be outdone, pulled at Harry’s jumper and, once it was free, moved her own hand down the front of his trousers. He inhaled sharply as she softly grabbed him. She, in turn, grasped him a bit more firmly as he pinched at her nipples, causing him to apply more pressure. His mouth moved from her neck and, moving her shirt and bra out of the way, to her breasts, laving them with attention.
On a whim, Harry used his one free hand and reached to the edge of the snowfall. He grabbed a small bit of it and placed the snow onto Ginny’s nipple, causing its already stiff state to become extremely hard. Ginny’s heaving breathing became whimpering, interspersed with tiny little gasps. Switching his mouth to the now cold nub, he moved his icy hand down, unbuttoned her jeans, and continued under her knickers. He paused briefly over her clitoris, causing her to shriek, and began to rub his fingers through her folds. He quickly realized that she was already quite wet, and that it wasn’t snow melt.
So close to her body, inside her clothes, not to mention right next to her hot center, his finger had warmed up... but not by much. He slipped a still cold finger into her and started moving it in and out. Ginny let out a scream, which Harry quickly muffled with his mouth, and grabbed his shaft even tighter, stroking it with an erratic, jerky motion. The lovers moaned into each others mouths, their motions upon each others sexes increasing and, as Harry added another finger, and then another, Ginny came, screaming into his mouth. The contractions around his fingers and the extra flow of her lubrication, combined with the grip his girlfriend had on his cock, caused him to come quickly after her, over her hand and inside his boxers.
They lay together, still kissing, breathing heavily as they descended from their orgasmic high. Their hands were no longer moving on each others now sensitive genitals, but Harry’s other hand continued massaging her breasts, while Ginny kept a hand entwined in Harry’s hair. Harry knew it wasn’t very ‘manly’ of him – at least, not according to Seamus’ stories – but the after sex cuddling was one of his favorite parts of their time together. He loved more than anything being the one to make Ginny orgasm, but truth be told, he never felt more loved than when the two of them lied together after pleasuring each other.
They didn’t often get intimate time together that they didn’t need to rush back to their tower when they were done, and were enjoying their current session when Mrs. Weasley’s voice interrupted them, coming from the directions of the Burrow.
“Ginny! Harry! Lunch!”
The pair pulled their hands back to themselves in surprise. The looked at each other and then giggled, which quickly turned into outright laughing. After one last, quick kiss, they stood up and appraised each other.
“You know, neither of us are any good at removing these types of stains with the cleaning charms,” commented Harry.
“I know,” Ginny sighed. “If anyone asks, we’ll just have to tell them about our snowball fight.”
Harry gave another once over at Ginny and snorted, “Right. But I guess its all we can do.”
Straightening their shirts and buttoning their jeans, they made their way hand-in-hand back to the Burrow.
As they entered the kitchen, Molly turned from the counter. “There you are, I was wondering what was taking so long. What on earth happened to you?”
“Um, snowball fight, Mrs. Weasley,” answered Harry.
“Mmmhmm,” she said, obviously taking in their red faces and wet, rumpled clothing. She eyed certain areas of their outfits that appeared more wet than others, and met each of them in the eyes. “Well, then, go clean up, and then come back down for lunch.”
Harry and Ginny turned and headed toward the stairs, throwing surreptitious grins at each other when the hear from behind them, “And might I suggest cleaning up separately? We wouldn’t want any more snowball fights messing up your clothes.”
The pair paused at the base of the stairs, and then ran on up, laughing as they did so.
Harry let Ginny use the bathroom first, and so arrived back in the kitchen after her. She was already ensconced at the table, chatting away with Hermione, who had shown up, apparently while he had been in the shower. Ron had been living out of Fred’s room in the flat above their Diagon Alley shop, and over the hols, Hermione had taken the room while Ron bunked with George – or that’s what they told their parents, at least.
The girls were giggling, and Harry stared at his girlfriend, happy to see her happy. Ron walked up to Harry and greeted him.
“Good holiday so far, mate?” he asked.
Trying to keep his memories of his activities with his best friend’s sister from just a short while ago showing on his face, he responded, “Yeah, great.” He then noticed that George wasn’t in the kitchen with them. “Where’s George?”
“Last minute sales. He says they always make a killing with them.”
As if summoned, they then heard the fireplace flare up and, a moment later, George came meandering into the kitchen, slapping Ron and Harry on the back, then hugging his mother, sister and, lastly, Hermione.
“Always good business the days before Christmas. Fre... Fred had the right idea keeping open for it.” No one missed the hitch as he spoke, but no one said anything, either. George had come a long way since loosing his brother. “So, what’s for lunch?” he asked with a grin.
“Sandwiches and juice,” replied Mrs. Weasley. “As soon as Percy gets here.
“Wasn’t he with you?” she asked George.
“He went to the Ministry. Kingsley contacted him at the store. He needed an extra pair of eyes for some paperwork.”
Mrs. Weasley nodded and said, “In the meantime, why don’t you lot set the table?”
Just as Harry was laying out the last goblet, the kitchen door opened and in walked Percy and, surprisingly, Mr. Weasley. The Weasley patriarch had been working especially hard in recent months, splitting his time between the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts department and the newly created Muggleborn Extracurricular Support System – a new department providing support for Muggleborns and their families outside of the school structure.
There were plenty of sandwiches, even with the extra family member present, and when lunch was over, Mrs. Weasley remained in the kitchen to work on Christmas Eve dinner while everyone else retired to the living room. Harry and Ginny claimed the love seat, curling into one another. Mr. Weasley stoked the ever present – at least in winter – fire in the fireplace to a dull roar, quickly raising the temperature in the room, before sitting in an old Muggle lounge chair he confiscated a while back and grabbing a hardware catalog to read. Ron and Hermione sat on the other sofa while Percy slipped off elsewhere into the house and George sat on a floor pillow by the hearth.
While everyone lounged in the afternoon, talking about class and the shop, swapping stories of teachers, pranks and new items, Charlie arrived. After another round of greetings and story telling – Charlie loved sharing stories from the reserve, – the conversations started to lull, Ron and Hermione disappeared outside, Harry and Ginny fell off to sleep from their morning’s activities and Charlie and George went off to track down Percy.
Harry was woken up when something bounced off his forehead. He refused to open his eyes, though, and merely gave a grunt in response to whatever it was. He grabbed a tighter hold on Ginny and was trying to go back to sleep when Ginny gave a similar grunt. He once again felt something small impact his face, so this time, against his personal desires, he opened his eyes. Noticing Percy looking down his nose at him, Charlie standing over him, glaring, and George off to the side grinning, Harry became immediately aware of his position, sleeping on the couch with Ginny in his arms, curled up with him.
He was about to defend himself when Ginny gave another grunt and stirred. If he hadn’t already been looking at them, he would have missed the grins that appeared on the faces of Percy and Charlie before they recomposed themselves. Ginny looked up at Harry, meeting his eyes, and then turned around to glare at her brothers.
“What is going on?” she inquired, threateningly.
“We were sent by Mum to have you get ready for dinner,” explained Charlie. “When what did we find but Harry here sleeping with our little sister.”
Harry flinched as he felt Ginny stiffen, and then he heard George comment, “Probably not the smartest thing to say, dear brother.”
Charlie was going to respond when once again, something ricocheted off the top of Ginny’s head to bounce off of Harry’s face. This time, the Weasley boys were openly grinning and not bothering to try and hide it.
“What the?!” cried Ginny as Harry looked upward to try and locate the source of the irritant.
“Oh no,” he moaned when he quickly found it. A sprig of mistletoe was floating above the sofa, occasionally pelting the victims directly below with tiny, hard, red berries. “George,” asked Harry. “Aren’t those holly berries?”
“Yes,” answered George, happily. “We discovered they work much better than the actual mistletoe berries when under the charm. The actual mistletoe berries kept exploding before ever reaching their targets, leaving a very sticky mess. But the holly berries hold the charms quite well, and even seem to become more aerodynamic.”
Harry was a bit annoyed at George’s cheerfulness.
“And can we assume that the plant will keep this up?” asked Ginny.
“Oh, absolutely!” George’s exuberance made Harry want to hex the Weasley brother. “What would be the fun if the plant just gave up. No, no, that wouldn’t work at all. Our wonderful friend here will keep at it until you do what it expects.”
“Expects?” asked Harry, weakly.
“What else do you think mistletoe would expect?” replied Ginny as she turned back to face her boyfriend. “Just remember, you boys asked for this.”
Ginny quickly moved in, placing her lips on Harry’s and proceeding to snog him passionately. It took no time at all for Harry to return the kiss, opening his mouth for her and using his tongue to request entrance into hers. Their kiss very quickly grew deeper, and their hands not long after started to wander, at which point they heard a strangled cry from Percy, Charlie loudly clearing his throat, laughter from George and an unexpected cry of horror.
“What are you doing?!” yelled Ron. “And why are you all standing there watching them go at like... like...”
Harry and Ginny broke apart unhurriedly and smiled at each other before facing an apoplectic Ron, Hermione smiling at them from beside him. She placed a hand on his arm to calm him down, and while it didn’t seem to have much effect, a moment later Ron flinched when a tiny red berry hit him on the nose. “Oi!”
Harry and Ginny giggled, followed by George’s laugh, Charlie’s chuckle and, eventually, even Percy started snickering at Ron’s expression. More berries were suddenly flying at Ron, and now Hermione as well, when two more mistletoe plants appeared in the entryway. Ron, recognizing he was outnumbered, but not bothering to think of a solution, did the first thing that came to mind and ran from the room, dragging Hermione with him. The remaining occupants of the room broke down laughing again as all three plants took off after the couple at high speed.
“Perhaps we should tether them to an area,” commented Charlie while he tried to catch his breath.
“But then how would they follow people around?” asked Percy, sounding to all as if he actually meant the question. The room grew quiet for a moment as everyone stared at the normally straight-laced man, but when he started to grin, everyone began laughing once more. “Honestly, though. You two should go straighten up and get ready for dinner. It will be in half an hour.”
Not having done much of anything since cleaning up for lunch, the pair only washed their hands and the sleep from their faces. Upon arriving back in the kitchen, Harry stopped and stared at the amount of food on the table. He had always thought that the Hogwarts elves put a lot of food on the house tables, but he would now swear that Mrs. Weasley had placed the same amount of food on her much smaller kitchen table. There was a beautiful looking roast, some type of game bird, tureens of gravy, a bowl of what appeared to be some type of fruit salad, a basket of rolls, pitchers of juice and a bowl of eggnog with a ladle. All of this was in addition to the individual place settings.
Harry decided to play the gentleman and pulled Ginny’s chair out for her, letting her sit before taking his own seat next to her. Dinner was was a boisterous affair, as only true family meals can be. Harry and Ginny both kept eyes on George and, since he had been spending way too much time with George in the shop, Ron as well; they were both sitting too close to the eggnog for comfort. As a result, they failed to notice Percy at their periphery slipping a bit of extra alcohol into the bowl, and continuously charming the nog from the bowl to their goblets. In the joyous activity that was dinner, it never occurred to them that they didn’t seem to have need of a refill.
Bill and Fleur showed up for dessert, having had dinner in France with Fleur’s family. And when dinner was finally over, the entire family left the dishes to clean themselves and retired to the living room, congregating in front of the tree, and sharing a wonderful Christmas Eve with each other.
As it got later, several of the older members of the family made their way to bed. Molly and Arthur were the first to leave, followed by Fleur and Bill who retired back to Shell Cottage with the promise of returning tomorrow morning. Harry and Ginny, while not drunk, were pleasantly happy from Percy’s mealtime prank, which had still gone unnoticed by the couple, and spent increasing amounts of time slipping each other kisses that lasted longer and longer each time. It helped that the various mistletoe plants, whose sole charmed purpose was to make people kiss, found the couple extremely gratifying and kept returning.
George grinned at his sister, happy for her, and slipped out unnoticed to his flat in Diagon Alley. Percy and Charlie conversed for a bit longer, casting constant glances at the two couples that remained, before finally deciding that there were things that they didn’t need to see and retreated to their rooms for the night. Finally, Ron and Hermione looked up from the own private conversation to notice that Harry and Ginny weren’t even trying to hold a conversation anymore. Saying their goodnights to their oblivious friends who gave no indication of hearing them, they flooed back to Diagon Alley, leaving the couple alone on the sofa.
The room was now silent except for the popping of the fire and the quiet little moans that Ginny made as Harry’s hands and mouth started wandering over her body and neck. Ginny once again threaded her fingers into Harry’s hair, her favorite place for them to be, while Harry’s hands worked their way down her body. Just as he was about to slip into her knickers, they broke apart suddenly, realizing where they were and what the were doing. They were quite surprised to discover that the room was otherwise empty.
Snickering at each other at what had happened, Ginny stood, grabbing Harry’s hand, and pulled him up, leading him to her room. When they arrived, Ginny closed the door behind them, and with a few flicks of her wand, cast several locking and silencing spells. She then cast another spell at herself and one more at Harry. He looked at Ginny with mild surprise, to which she replied, “It’s after midnight, Harry. Happy Christmas,” and stripped off her clothes, climbing into bed.
Harry stared at her for a minute before coming to his senses and removing his own clothing. He slipped under the covers of her bed and the two of them immediately clung to one another, picking back up from where they left off on the sofa, this time without any pesky material in the way. Their lips met, briefly, before Harry continued his earlier journey. His hand cupped her sex, which was a lot easier to do now, and his mouth worked its way down to her breasts. While he worried the tip of one breast with his teeth, lips and tongue, he worked his fingers through her folds, spreading the increasing slickness around.
Once he was satisfied she was ready, he slipped a finger inside, causing a very loud moan from Ginny. Apparently, she was more ready than he thought, and he soon followed with a second finger. He twisted his wrist in a little move he picked up in a broom closet session and was able to curl his fingers until they found the slightly rougher area inside her slick, smooth womanhood causing Ginny to release a loud, pleased gasp. Harry took his cue and started to pump his fingers in and out, rubbing roughly the special spot he had found, the pad of his hand striking her clit on every instroke.
Ginny thrashed on the bed as Harry stroked her, in and out, in and out, faster and faster. He switched his mouth often between her breasts, licking and nipping more roughly at the hard nipples on each of them. Ginny’s moans and gasps turned into screams, and her hands gripped the sheets beside her body as she lost herself in the feelings Harry was generating within her. Just when Harry thought his hand would cramp up, ruining the experience for Ginny, she came, loudly, and all over his hand. He continued to stroke his hand in and out, albeit at a much slower pace, extending her orgasm.
When she was finally done, he pulled his fingers out and slid back up her body, kissing her on the corner of her panting mouth.
“Happy Christmas,” he whispered.
“Not... fair...” she breathed. “I said it first. Now its your turn.”
Relaxing her grip on the sheets, she brought one of her hands between them and grabbed a hold of Harry’s cock. She stroked it only a few times to determine that he was, in fact, ready, and said, “Don’t worry about me now, love. This is my gift to you. It’s already been more special then I ever could have dreamed.”
Still holding onto him, she guided him to her center and placed him at her slick entrance. “Merry Christmas,” she whispered as he pushed himself in.
The feeling was indescribable to Harry, better than anything he could have imagined. And imagining was something he did a lot. Despite all the things they had tried at school, in the broom closet, on the blanket by the lake, even on the train, neither of them had done this before. He slid in slowly, reveling in the sensation, listening to Ginny moan in pleasure. Before he knew it, he was the whole way in. He wasn’t too surprised, they had the conversation previously: she was seventeen and had been flying broomsticks since she was six, all evidence of her virginity was gone long before they started dating.
It felt to Harry the she was gripping from the inside, trying to pull him in deeper. But the slickness made it easy to move, and he was ready.
“It’s okay, Harry. Do it,” said Ginny in his ear.
He pulled out slowly, the pleasure working its way up his shaft all the way to his spine. And when he was almost out of her, he pushed back in with a forcefulness that surprised him. Instincts were taking over, and Ginny’s repetitive cries of ‘Do it’ and ‘Faster’ urged him onwards, forgoing any thought of making slow for her. Faster and harder than his hand had been minutes earlier, he pumped himself in and out of Ginny with force, crying his emotions on each stroke. Ginny’s cries again reached a fevered pitch, and before either of them expected it, she cried out in orgasm again, her internal muscles squeezing and stroking him.
But, after his earlier release, Harry was able to hold himself back. He wanted this to last as long as he could for both of them. He rode out her crest, stroking slowly, resisting his urges, until her internal undulation had ceased. Then, he began once more to pump himself into her hard and fast. Wet, slapping noises filled the room, mixing with Ginny cries of pleasure and Harry’s grunts of exertion. Finally, Harry could hold off no longer, and with a final thrust and loud yell, he emptied himself into Ginny. This was apparently all she needed, because as he was still coming, she also crested, her muscles trying to empty him of everything he had.
Harry fell on top of Ginny, doing his best to move off to the side and keep from crushing her under him. Ginny responded by wrapping her arms around him, holding him close. They lay like that together for a while, both of them coming down from their respective orgasms, and then enjoying the closeness, the feeling of oneness they had still joined as they were. As Harry was ready to drift off, he whispered in her ear, “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” Ginny replied. “Happy Christmas, Harry, and thank you.”
The lovers fell asleep like that, still joined.
Harry slowly came awake. He hadn’t opened his eyes yet, and he was trying to figure out what woke him. There it was again; something was ticking his face. He brought his hand up to scratch when he noticed the familiar scent of strawberries and lavender, and something else...
