9A/N flashbacks are Italics
"Do I hate you?" Ginny turned to look at Harry, it was the first time he had
spoken since returning from the Hospital. The pleading look in his eyes had brought up a
memory. It had been the day after Bill and Fleur's wedding. (flashback)
"Ginny, I wanted to say goodbye" He looked forlorn, the green eyes that had
been so alive only hours before were overcast and sad.
"Goodbye? Why? Are you going back to those stupid muggles?"
"No," he glanced at his feet shying away from her strong gaze, she had
reprimanded him last night for leaving her, and here he was leaving again. "I'm going to
fight him."
"Fight him?" she looked puzzled for a moment. "No Harry, you're not going
alone" she whispered
"I'm not. Please Ginny don't make this harder…" he trailed off, unable to look at
her any longer.
"Harry Potter don't you leave this house without me!" Ginny was angry, he was
going to leave her alone, again. "I need you, you need me. Together we are stronger, you
can't be alone in this"
"Shhhh love, I'm not alone, Ron and Hermione are coming too."
"So you'll take them but not me? How can you call me love and still leave me
here?"
"Ginny, stop!" he had tears in his eyes. He flattened his fringe trying to hide
them from her and turned away, letting the tears leak from his eyes and turned back to
her.
"Ginny, please understand. If you died how do you think I would feel?"
"It's better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all." She retorted
smartly, liquid clouding her own eyes. "I won't let you go. I'll wake up the house if I
have to. I hate you"
"And I love you," he whispered, kissing her softly and walking quietly downstairs
to disapparate with Ron and Hermione. She had been in a mood for a month, crying
herself to sleep most nights and cursing Harry the rest.
Ginny then recalled an other memory.
Ginny moved to the stove as the pot began to whistle and poured the boiling water
over the tea leaves. She moved over to the table and rapidly heard three pops that
sounded much like people apparating into the back yard. Drawing her wand she peered
out the curtain and couldn't believe what she saw. Standing there were Ron, Harry and
Hermione who had come back for Christmas. Ginny opened the door and smiled
cheekily as the three rushed to the house.
"Ginny," breathed Hermione, "we missed you so much! Is anyone else awake?"
"No, just me," Ginny responded hugging her. Ron hugged her silently, and,
tugging Hermione he went upstairs leaving Ginny and Harry alone. Harry, above all
else, looked exhausted. He eyes were shadowed, his shoulders slumped and his hair was
limp and dirty.
"Ginny," her name barely escaped his lips before he was lying his head in her lap
and sobbing. "Ginny… Ginny" was all he could say between sobs. She held him, feeling
tears leak from her own eyes. They stayed that way for a long time, holding each other,
crying, letting all the old hurt wash away. It was a long time before either spoke, Harry
was finally the one to break the ice. "Ginny do you hate me?" the single phrase was
slowly becoming his way of saying "I love you." "Please," he begged, wanting her to
accept all he had done forever, wanting to know that she could still care for him.
"I could never hate you Harry" she responded leaning her head upon his
shoulder.
"I love you… so much" was all he could say, before capturing her lips and
kissing her hungrily. They kissed for a while, hands roaming, and suddenly the need was
too great. Harry could no longer take the need to touch her, feel her naked flesh next to
his. Too many nights he had listened to Ron and Hermione making love in a room that
stemmed of from the cave he was sleeping in. Too often he went to bed cold and lonely, or
pleasuring himself while moaning her name. "Ginny," he moaned into her mouth,
burying his hands into her red locks.
"Harry," she whispered equally aroused at how his hands were moving, over her
breasts and hips, tracing her curves. "Harry," she moaned again "make love to me,
please." She was begging too and he was happy to reply. Together they raced upstairs to
her bedroom, slowly they made love for the first time, and fell asleep, exhausted, only to
wake up early Christmas morning and make love again, faster, but just as perfect as
before.
Ron and Hermione were doing the same in Ron's room. His large frame was
curled around her smaller one, spooning, as they fell asleep. Hermione was the first to
wake up. She kissed Ron gently and slipped out of bed, bending over his drawers and
finding pulling on his favorite Chudley Cannons tee-shirt. "It looks much better on you,
Love," Ron called leaning on his elbow, still in the bed.
"Shut up you," Hermione responded, smiling shyly. She always felt naked when
he looked at her that way. His blue eyes almost midnight purple with desire, hers, she
knew, were darkening too and a blush was beginning to creep up her cheeks. He blushed
too, his chest turning as rosy as his cheeks and ears. He got out of bed, still naked and
pressed his pelvis to hers, his erection brushing her entrance. "Ron," she moaned, but
pushed him away the same, "Your parents" she reminded him.
"Mmmmmm, I don't care," he brushed her entrance again pushing her into the
wardrobe.
"Ron, it's Christmas, they probably know we're here, besides I want a shower."
"Can I join you," he asked smiling cheekily, his hands moving under the shirt to
caress her breasts. That Christmas was one of the best Ron had ever had.