Fic: Newlyweds (Harry/Ginny)
Title: Newlyweds
Author: basilm
Recipient's name: swandive97
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Harry/Ginny
Warnings: Unmitigated fluff. Author not responsible for any dental work which may be required after the reading this story.
Author's notes: Many thanks to my betas.



Ginny Potter was on a mission. That mission involved green eyes, lots of messy black hair, a very large bed, and a bottle of champagne.

Everything that could be set up in the bedroom had been prepared—except for the glasses. But Ginny was planning on drinking her champagne in a more creative way.

All she needed now was the hair and eyes—accompanied by vast expanses of taut muscle and smooth skin, and all of the other numerous attributes of her husband—which were due to walk through the door any minute now.

Her husband. Ginny hadn’t yet grown tired of saying that—of thinking it. The ring on her left hand still caught her eye when it sparkled in the sun with newness. But she didn’t think she’d ever get tired of being Harry Potter’s wife.

In fact, today she was feeling particularly… loving. Which is why she was hiding behind the door, waiting to pounce on him the minute he walked through it. Wearing her sexiest lingerie.

The door creaked open, and Harry stepped through, turning to shut and lock it. “Gin—” he started to call out, but his voice broke off as he turned and found her flying at him. A box of wares from Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes went flying, too—he’d spent the morning visiting with Fred and George, while Ginny had opted to stay at home and catch up on her reading.

But one can only do so much reading when one is a newlywed, before one’s mind starts wandering… in the direction of one’s husband, and the talent of his hands, his lips… his tongue… and so on until Ginny was in a fever pitch and no mood at all for reading. The only way she could sensibly spend her time—that didn’t involve tossing fitfully on the bed in anticipation—was to plot and plan the best way to thoroughly make love to her husband.

She put on the sexiest piece of lingerie that he hadn’t seen yet. She’d received a whole pile of it as presents from girlfriends before she was married and now they were steadily making their way through every piece.

And of course, she started by pouncing on him the second he walked through the door.

“I didn’t think it was possible…” gasped Harry when she finally relented her attack in his mouth to devour his tasty neck—slightly salty with the subtle texture of a few hour’s worth of stubble growth. “—To miss someone,” he continued, easily distracted “…so much when they—“ Ginny’s hand snaked down to his belt buckle and she felt him gasp—“had only been gone for a few hours!” he finally managed to choke out at last. Ginny couldn’t help but grin as she tugged at his shirt, un-tucking it.

“It’s very possible,” she reassured him while sliding her hands down his jeans and boxers and grasping his bum. “Come upstairs,” she whispered. “Make love to me.”

“Oh,” he paused, a though actually considering it, and then smiled at the indignant look on her face. He kissed her nose, “all right,” and then picked her up, slung her over his shoulders, and began to carry her up the stairs.

“Harry!” she exclaimed. “Harry! This isn’t funny!” Despite her claims, she was laughing uncontrollably. “Put me down this instant!” And he did set her down, on the staircase so she stood lopsidedly, each foot on a different stair, and he kissed her again.

“What on earth did you do that for?” she asked, still giggling as he pulled his lips away.

Harry smiled too and shrugged. “I’ve got to keep you on your toes, don’t I? Every once in a while I’ve got to do something unexpected; otherwise you’ll get sick of me.”

Ginny stopped giggling and said quite seriously, “I could never get sick of you, Harry.”

He didn’t reply, he simply leaned his forehead against hers and looked in her eyes, an incredibly sweet gesture. Ginny was lost in the moment, heady with emotions and tinged with passion.

They kissed again and he picked her up—this time in his arms—and carried her into the bedroom.

He started to set her down gently on the bed but tripped and, dropping her, landed on top, taking her breath away and starting them both up laughing again.

“I can’t believe it,” she squealed as he nuzzled her neck. “Would it be too much to ask to just have a normal, perfectly romantic love-making session for once?”

Harry smiled and shook his head, moving his target lower, and Ginny sighed in response. “I don’t think there even exists such a thing,” he answered, “and if there does it certainly isn’t normal.”

“Surely once—“ she began, but he interrupted by tickling her voraciously, sending her into peals of laughter.

“Now, I must say,” Harry began once she had mostly calmed down, “that I do like this… outfit which I assume you put on for my viewing pleasure.” Ginny nodded. “Yes, well… it’s quite lovely, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to take it off.” She nodded and he did just that, slowly and laboriously, tortuously so, distributing love to each new bit of flesh as it was revealed.

And it hardly seemed fair for him to still be half-clothed while she was naked, especially considering how she had gotten that way. Ginny quickly and deftly switched their positions and did the same to him as he had done to her. Soon they were both naked and rolling on the bed, moans and sighs escaping from their mouths as the delightfully pleasurable Saturday afternoon light streamed through the curtains and into them.

“Oh, god Harry,” said Ginny when his mouth gently closed over her nipple, then started to move lower. “Let’s never stop loving like this.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal,” he said into her stomach, and Ginny watched the afternoon colors in the sky slowly change ever so subtlety as the sun moved—with a frustratingly slow pace—across it. She watched until she couldn’t keep her eyes open anymore and then the light reflected on the insides of her eyelids until it was overwhelmed by swirls and dashed of color, and she cried out in pleasure.

In a moment that felt like an hour, Harry was kissing her again, and she could taste herself on his lips—a taste as sweet as any other—and when she opened her eyes he was there. He was all she could see, and all she could feel, and he was everywhere, and then he was inside her, and all she wanted to feel was him—him inside her, his hands, and lips, wherever they were... She wanted, she needed to have more; she urged him on, her body pleading and just when she thought she might go crazy from the wanting, he gave her more—but only a little, and then a little more, less than what she craved but enough to make her whimper, and then finally, finally it was enough. As though from a distance, she heard Harry cry out in her ear as well, and then there was nothing to do but to take all of him in, and then fall back, absorbing his weight as they both sank back into the bed, enjoying that utterly blissful and peaceful moment of complete release.

Eventually Harry shifted off of her, which was a relief, as breathing had become rather difficult, but also left her with a feeling of loss at the same time.

Harry smiled lazily and said, “They ought to pass a law making Saturday afternoon love-making mandatory.” His voice was deep and sounded satisfied.

All Ginny could do was smile back and, remembering for the first time the bottle of champagne, ask if he had anywhere else to be and would he mind terribly spending the rest of the day in the bedroom, as that was what newlyweds did best, after all.