Another Twenty-Two Days

HP/GW, Rated R for sexual situations and language

A/N: Because I can't get enough of these two.

Now it's complete.

Enjoy!

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I. (Everywhere)

It's a switch being flipped, and suddenly she's light and she's everywhere.

Someone's complaint one morning over burnt toast floats down the table, and Harry's stomach flutters. He thinks automatically of Ginny, and how much she's going to enjoy breakfast; she always picks the darkest slices.

There is a decorative vase of amber yellow flowers on Professor Sprout's muddy desk when he goes up to turn in his essay on the benefits of Snargaluff pods. He breathes them in. They smell just like Ginny, soft and delicate and sweet.

"Freesia refracta," Professor Sprout says, nodding towards the bouquet when she notices him lingering there.

"Er, they're nice," he mumbles, and moves on quickly after that.

It's pouring during Potions, and Professor Slughorn is collecting rainwater in a tin bucket in the high, open windows, and it sounds like the time they were stuck in the broom shed together during a rare summer storm. He remembers Ginny's tinkling laughter as she rung out her sopping hair.

She's everywhere, everywhere, and he wishes he'd been ready for her when she'd been ready for him.

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II. (The Thing about Dormitories)

Ron is finally snoring, and Dean's trying to sneak out.

Harry wishes Dean were quieter about it.

Harry also wishes he didn't know exactly where Dean was going and who he was intending to meet at such a late hour.

Still, he takes out the Marauder's Map, perhaps because he is a glutton for punishment, and watches Dean's dot descend the staircase. There's a second, maybe two, and Harry wills it not to happen.

But it does.

Dean's dot engulfs Ginny's, and Harry tries not to set the curtains on fire.

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III. (Christmas)

She always gifts him a handmade card for Christmas. He always buys her a small fudge sampler from Honeyduke's. But he knows which one she likes now (salted caramel), so he gets her a package of that instead.

She hugs him in the sitting room that morning during the gift exchange, in view of all her family, and Harry tries not to show how flustered he is, a particularly difficult task indeed as her breasts are very near his face.

"Thank you," she says gratefully, standing before him in a soft white dressing gown and pajama bottoms bedecked with glittering fairies. Arnold is diving into a pile of paperchains at her feet. "I ran out last month. You have no idea how much I needed these."

Fred and George begin to snigger, and the "you're welcome" on his lips dies as she launches an attack on her brothers.

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IV. (Resolutions)

Minutes before the countdown, the music is louder than usual, and Harry's eyes travel the same well-worn path to Ginny. She's wearing her newest Weasley jumper, robin's egg blue with a small, silvery G worked into the chest, and jeans so brilliantly tight they're almost like a second skin. She's bobbing her head, jiggling her leg, and he knows she wants to dance.

He tries, and fails, to force himself to her side, to ask her for a dance; it doesn't matter that he'd make a fool of himself. If he had her in his arms, no one else would matter but her.

He makes a resolution when the clock strikes midnight and the new year begins, to be less of a pansy.

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V. (She's Ron's Sister)

"Well, Ginny seems okay," is Hermione's declaration as she falls into her usual seat across from Harry and Ron in the Gryffindor common room.

"What d'you mean?" Harry says quickly, just as Ron says, "Oh, good."

Hermione's eyes are alight with amusement as she explains, "Ron asked me to check up on her. You know, since she broke things off with Dean the other day." Her grin turns a little maniacal. "You should've been the one to go, Harry."

Harry flushes and stares hard at the book before him, trying to appear unmoved by what Hermione's just said, but he's gripping his quill so hard that his knuckles are white, and he tries with great difficulty to relax.

"Why would he?" Ron demands.

Harry grimaces at the slight note of suspicion in Ron's voice.

"You know," Hermione says, fluttering a hand in the air, "they've been a lot friendlier this year, bonding over Quidditch and all. And he would want to make sure the members of his team aren't emotionally compromised. Right, Harry?"

"Yes, exactly," Harry says through his teeth, glaring at her.

Ron's face clears, and he turns back to his History of Magic textbook. "Well, that's all right then."

Harry's stomach promptly sinks, and he mentally reminds himself again that she's Ron's sister, she's Ron's sister.

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VI. (Refrains)

Harry sits in the common room and positions himself so that he can clearly be seen from the bottom of the girls' staircase. He opens his newest edition of Which Broomstick? and pores over the first section, dedicated, per usual, to Chasing brooms, wondering which would suit Ginny best.

He is in her line of sight when she comes back down from her dormitory, Arnold skittering along her shoulders. When she notices the magazine, asks him what she has to do to get her hands on it next, Harry wants to answer, "Kiss me," but refrains by biting his tongue.

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VII. (Quidditch)

He is addressing the team before the start of practice when she does it: bends over, robes outlining her fantastic bum, and it robs him completely of speech.

"Er." Everyone is watching him, and they follow his gaze. He looks away, scratching the back of his neck as it heats up. "Ginny, what're you doing?"

She stands back up, and it is once again safe enough to look at her. Her fingertips are caked in mud, and she smears a line on each of her cheeks. Harry isn't the only one gaping at her, though Ron seems unsurprised by his sister's antics and is gazing heavenward as if begging for patience.

"It's go time!" Ginny cries so suddenly that half the team jumps. "We're going to smash Ravenclaw to the ground! Claw out her- er, their eyes! Pluck their feathers! Fry them up!"

"For Merlin's sake, Ginny," Ron groans before hiding his face in his hands.

Harry reckons he's half in love with her already, and he laughs, his chest so warm he could almost swear it's glowing.

"Thanks for the pep talk, Ginny." He barely glances at the rest of the group before his eyes are drawn to her again. "Let's go. Everyone in the air."

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VIII. (Tea)

She sits next to him at breakfast, letting out a puff of air that causes a long strand of fringe in her eyes to flutter up and settle fetchingly against her cheek. Harry mentally shakes himself to stop staring and keeps his hands busy with the tea things.

"Morning," she rasps, pulling the eggs, bacon, sausages, toast, and fried tomatoes towards her with two sweeps of her arm.

"Good morning."

He slides a small cup, of warm milk containing a splash of tea and two lumps of sugar, towards her.

"Oh."

He meets her surprised eyes.

"Tea," he says unnecessarily, and wonders if he always sounds like such a brute.

"You know how I take it," she states with a hint of disbelief.

He manages a nod, and a smile blooms upon her face like a steady sunrise.

"Thank you," she says softly.

With meaning, he says, "Anytime."

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IX. (Quidditch, II)

There's a huge tear on the thigh of Ginny's Quidditch uniform by the end of practice, and Harry has to dig his fingernails into his palms to keep his mind off of how creamy her skin looks, and how fucking fantastic her thighs would look wrapped around-

"Right," he says, voice shaking just beneath the surface as he cuts through that particularly wild line of thought. "That was- that was great, everyone. See you again on Friday."

She's grinning, cheeks mud-stained and face bright with excitement, and she's never looked more beautiful. She skips over to him, ponytail streaming behind her, and he knows what she's going to do- she's been much more physically affectionate towards him lately, which he has no such complaints about, only he is far more riled up than normal thanks to those torn trousers- and he turns so that she has to throw her arm over his shoulder and side-hug him.

He squeezes her gently around the waist and quickly releases her.

"Merlin, I love Quidditch," she says.

Her eyes are sparkling as she looks up at him. Their faces are very close. Harry can count all the freckles on the bridge of her nose, if he wants. 1, 2, 3, 4…

"Yes, we know, we know. Can we please go to dinner now?" Ron breaks in. "I'm starving."

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X. (The Meddler)

Hermione is trying to kill him, he's sure of it.

Ron has gone back to the Tower, having forgotten his half-finished essay, and Harry and Hermione settle at a table towards the back of the library that's drenched in sunlight. It's a little warm, though not uncomfortably so, and soon enough a companionable silence settles between them amidst the whispers of their peers.

The peace is ruined when Hermione begins fidgeting in her seat. After several minutes of this, Harry tears his eyes away from the Half-Blood Prince's book and props his chin in his hand.

"What is it?" he asks her, mildly annoyed.

Her eyes flicker over his shoulder, then back to him. "Nothing."

He raises a skeptical brow. "Nothing? I don't believe-"

It's then that she does it. Waves her arms over her head, signaling at someone behind him. His stomach does an elated yet terrified sort of whirl; he knows instantly who will be joining them.

"You." He finishes his sentence with accusation overflowing in that one little syllable.

"Ginny! Here, have a seat beside Harry. I've got those Transfiguration notes you were asking for."

Harry manages to throw Hermione a scowl without Ginny noticing. Hermione's eyes are gleaming.

"Hi, Harry," Ginny says, placing her things down next to his.

"Hey," he says casually, though his heart is racing at breakneck speed.

She angles her chair towards him, away from the glaring sun, and she's catching the light just so; she's aglow and positively radiant.

"What?" she says to him. "Have I got something on my face?"

He is staring at her, mouth agape. Upon realizing this, his teeth click when he finally reels in his jaw.

"You haven't," Hermione chimes in from across the table. Her expression is all mock-innocence when she says next, "You look quite fetching today, by the way. Wouldn't you agree, Harry?"

Harry and Ginny simultaneously glare at Hermione. Hermione is smiling with her lips pressed together, as if holding back laughter.

"Hermione," Ginny hisses.

With a dry mouth, Harry turns towards Ginny. He looks into her eyes and forgets every upcoming obstacle he may have to face for this.

"I mean, she's not lying," he says quietly.

Ginny elbows her inkwell, thankfully still stoppered. She lunges for it before it rolls off the table, and her eyes are wide when she looks at him again.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?"

He takes a deep breath. "You do, you know… look fetching."

She flushes pink, and her reaction has Harry feeling triumphant.

Then there's a sudden slam, and Harry and Ginny both jump and spin towards the source of the noise. Hermione looks at Ron with unmasked exasperation as he collapses noisily into his chair.

Ron looks from Hermione, to Ginny, to Harry.

"Did I miss something?"

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XI. (Together)

The portraits are wide-eyed and whispering. Several students they've passed have come to a complete stop to gawk at them.

Ginny lets out a burst of laughter as soon as they set foot outside, as if she'd been containing it on their walk throughout the castle.

He squeezes her hand, grinning back at her like a maniac.

"Was that real? That, up there? That kiss? That really happened?" she says in a rush, her cheeks straining to contain her smile.

"Yes," he says simply.

She laughs again, and it is contagious, for now he laughs with her.

"How long?"

"How long?"

"How long have you been wanting to do that?"

"Ages."

"Ages," she repeats. "Ages?"

"Yes."

She pauses, then says matter-of-factly, "Hm. Yes. I thought so."

"Yeah?" He was sure he'd been much more subtle.

Ginny nods. "I had an inkling… but only when Demelza pointed out- the first time, and many times after that- that you were staring at me. And lately Hermione's been so insufferable when it comes to you. I was going to take you aside, after the game, after everyone had gotten a hold of you. I was going to ask you what you're playing at, making eyes at me and driving me to utter distraction during practice and at meals and-"

"I fancy the fuck out of you."

"Oh," she breathes.

They're halfway to the Black Lake and slow to a stop on the path between the greenhouses and vegetable patch. He's nervous, knows he shouldn't be- he's already kissed her. But his next move won't be as impulsive as it'd been up in the Gryffindor common room. So, he stands there, completely flummoxed as to what to do next.

Ginny tiptoes up and robs him completely of brain function, kissing him soundly on the mouth, and it's even better the second time, and the third time after they've come up for air, and the fourth time, when she's pulling behind greenhouse three.

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XII. (Of Diaries…)

He's working the plait out of her long hair, gently raking through the thick threads. He likes doing this; it relaxes them both. And she seems like she needs it today.

It's Tuesday, and she's been impossibly quiet the few moments he's gotten to be with her at breakfast and lunch and between lessons. Now that they're alone together in the common room, while the rest of the castle is in the Great Hall for dinner, Harry hopes she'll impart with him whatever it is that is bothering her.

She blurts out just as a log in the grate pops, "I write in a diary."

Harry freezes, heart flushing blood ice cold, but forces himself to say as lightly as possible, "It doesn't write back, I expect."

"No, it doesn't."

"Okay."

She turns, wraps herself so tightly around him that he doesn't quite know where he ends and she begins, and it's the best thing he's ever felt, her against him like this.

"It's not a real diary, though," she says, nuzzling his neck. Her breath fans across his collar bone, and his skin immediately erupts with goosebumps. "I don't write in everything that's happened to me."

"What do you write, then?"

"Only good things, happy memories."

She allows his fingers to glide up the sides of her shirt and around her back, and she twitches, ticklish, when he reaches halfway up her spine.

"Am I in it?" he asks her.

"You're all over it."

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XIII. (…and Tom Riddle)

They are in the Astronomy Tower, lying on their backs and staring up at the twinkling sky, when she says, "Tom was my first friend."

He looks at her, but she keeps looking up, up at the stars, and her eyes are reflecting their sparkling light. Of what he can see of her face, it is clear; there is no sadness, or anger, just acceptance of a past she cannot change.

He slides his hand into hers, and it is very cold. "He wasn't your friend."

She shrugs a shoulder, still avoiding his eyes. "Yes and no."

"Ginny-"

"I know. I know he used me, manipulated me, tried to kill me, but at the very beginning of it all, he was the first person to ever make me feel like I was… I don't know. Important."

Harry does not know what to say to her. She's never shaken him quite like this before.

"I'm sorry," he manages because that is the only thing he can think of.

She turns towards him finally. "Don't be. It's not your fault."

Now Harry shrugs. "Yes and no."

She kisses him then, slowly and deeply, her lips velvet soft against his. "We're fucked up, aren't we?"

Harry laughs a little sadly against her mouth. "Yeah, probably."

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XIV. (The Courtyard)

Harry has a feeling she knows exactly what she is doing.

Their secret courtyard holds one gnarly tree with perfect footholds for climbing. Ginny is up it in a flash, and settles onto the first thick branch.

Should he mention he can see straight up her skirt? Her knickers are navy blue with white trim, and the very image burns into his mind's eye in an instant.

She's smirking when he looks up at her face, her head shielding the sun so she is all haloed in bright light.

"See something you like?"

Ginny does know what she's doing.

Harry walks forward, reaches up to grip her dangling foot. He needs to touch her. "I do."

She's bites her bottom lip for a moment, an action that drives him utterly mad with desire. Then she says, "Whatever will you do about it?"

"Come down here, and I'll show you," he says.

She reaches down, bending double, and he grasps her beneath the arms. She slides down his body, and Harry cannot stifle the groan he releases against her lips as her legs wrap around his waist. She is warm all over, and he presses her into the tree, nearly killing them both when he trips over a root in his haste to be as close to her as possible, and then she is hot, all over his hand as she gasps in his ear.

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XV. (Forever)

She's curled into the crook of his arm, chest heaving.

"I… that… you do that far too well," she says, breathing labored.

He smirks at her lazily, sleepily. After all, he'd come first. "Well, I had a very good teacher."

She lets out a laugh. "You're a fast learner."

They are in the Room of Requirement, skiving dinner again. Ginny caresses his bicep with feather-light fingertips, rubs her nose against his ribcage, and suddenly his throat is tight.

What did I do to deserve you?

Instead, he says as evenly as he can. "I love you."

Ginny shifts and tilts her face up to look at him. Her eyebrows are furrowed; she's not fooled, not for a second. "What is it?"

He presses into her, rolls on top of her, and for the first time, they are completely bare and flush together.

Her eyes are wide. "What is it?" she says again.

He shakes his head, unable to say another word without breaking, drops his forehead to rest against hers.

And perhaps she gets it, gets why he's suddenly embarrassingly emotional, because she does not press him anymore. She wraps herself around him, tightly, and whispers, "I love you, too. Forever."

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XVI. (Lesson Learned)

When she finally tells him what's wrong, he makes the stupid mistake of grimacing, and she doesn't let him live it down.

After lunch and in the middle of the packed common room, Ginny empties her entire purse of feminine products into his lap.

"Hold these for a moment, would you?" she says, the corners of her lips twitching.

Swimming in pads and cheeks on fire, Harry meekly nods his head.

Hermione is openly laughing at him. Ron shifts uncomfortably in his chair and throws him a commiserating look, but does absolutely nothing to save him from further mortification.

Harry vows to remember the sting of betrayal from his so-called best friends.

Ginny, meanwhile, is dramatically digging through the depths of her purse, and saying loud enough for everyone to hear, "I just can't find the jumbo ones. You know, for a heavy flow?" She turns towards Harry again, eyes crinkled at the corners. "Would you be a good boyfriend and sort through the ones you have there? There has to be one big enough for today."

Lesson learned, Harry finds the largest pad in the pile and hands it over to her silently.

She rewards him with a kiss, grinning against his mouth, and says, "You're the best."

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XVII. (Talk)

She looks upset when he picks her up outside of Potions.

He opens his mouth to ask her what's wrong, but she shakes her head and tugs at his hand. They are quiet as they trek through the castle and out onto the grounds, and it's not until they're in a thicket of trees by the Black Lake that Ginny takes a deep, shuddering breath, and presses her face into his chest.

"What is it?" he says at once, wrapping her in his arms.

"Do you think I'm a slut?"

Harry jolts in surprise and pulls away enough to look down at her. "What?"

She doesn't meet his gaze, and her voice is small when she says, "Never mind."

He withholds the urge to shake her. "Ginny, who-"

"Girls talk," she cuts in, "and apparently three boyfriends in two years is a lot."

"They're idiots. The lot of them. It's not like you cheated on them, or… or…"

"Had sex with them?"

Harry stares at her. He doesn't know how far she's gone with her previous partners, and a very large part of him would rather be willfully ignorant about it all, but if she had been with Michael, or Dean, or anyone else, it still wouldn't change how he feels about her, how enamored and deeply in love he is with her.

"You don't have to explain yourself to me," he says.

She ignores that and says, "I haven't. I haven't been with anyone. Not like that." She pauses, meets his eyes. "I've been waiting."

"Oh," is all he can manage because his mind is now going a mile a minute, and he tries very hard to control the sudden impulse to ravish her.

Ginny's smiling, but she still looks a little dejected. "I wish people would just mind their own damn business."

He hugs her, kisses her temple. "I've been wishing the same thing for years."

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XVIII. (The Apology)

"I'm sorry."

"I know."

"I'm an idiot."

"I know that, too."

"Forgive me?"

She looks suspicious. "Are you only apologizing because you want to get in my pants now?"

"No," he says, and it's the truth. "I panicked, and I hurt your feelings. I really am sorry."

Ginny looks down at her hands, pulls and presses at her fingers, making them crack and pop. She is biding her time, thinking hard.

After a few terribly long seconds, she says, "I understand if you're not ready-"

"I am," he says quickly. "Ready, I mean. It's just…"

"What?"

"The day before yesterday… we talked about…"

"The end of us."

Harry's gut twists painfully at the words. "Yeah," he whispers.

"I love you," she says, and there's something in her voice that's hard and sure. "I want this. Us. You. For however long we have."

"Okay."

And then she is kissing him.

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XIX. (His)

She's all around him, his, pale skin and soft thighs and full breasts, his.

"Fuck," he mutters, beginning to come undone. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

Ginny arches beneath him, makes a delicious noise from the back of her throat, and agrees, "Yes. Fuck."

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XX. (Hers)

There's something in her eyes, something in the way she moves over him, and it's like she's making sure he knows that he is hers, and hers alone.

His fingers tighten on her hips, answering.

He's known this for a while now.

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XXI. (After The Funeral)

Hermione leaves the group of Weasleys several meters away and walks over to him. Harry looks the other way quickly, hoping he hadn't been caught watching her speak with Ginny.

"I'm sorry," Hermione says when she reaches him.

He looks at his friend, eyes a little puffy, hair wilder than normal.

"She told you?"

Hermione rolls her eyes. "Of course she did, and anyone else who will listen. You want everyone to know, don't you? I mean, that's the point of all this, isn't it?"

Harry doesn't respond. There nothing to say, not really.

After a pregnant pause, Hermione continues, "She knew it was coming. She said you two had spoken about it, to a certain extent."

"Yeah. We had."

"Well, fair warning: she's not thrilled."

There was a heavy feeling in his stomach. Harry had not expected anything less.

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XXII. (The Train)

He feels several eyes upon him and knows at once that the news has spread, that their breakup is real; he cannot do anything to comfort her, only look into her beautiful, red-rimmed eyes and remain resolute in his decision that this is the only way to keep her safe.

She opens her mouth, perhaps to yell at him, raises a hand, perhaps to strike him, but then her chin trembles, Harry's heart breaks, and her trunk slips out of her hands.

Ron is by her side in a second, lugging her trunk with his free hand. "Come on, let's find Neville and Luna. You'd planned on getting a compartment with them, yeah?"

"I hadn't, not until a few hours ago," Ginny says, and there is a hint of anger simmering beneath the surface of her words.

She turns, her fiery hair fanning across her shoulders, and begins down the train without a backwards glance. Ron follows her, and Harry is left alone with Hermione. Together, they find an empty compartment and close the partition on a group of second years who are shamelessly staring at them.

Harry busies himself with stowing their trunks away. Hermione sits silently, watching, and when Ron joins them after the train has already begun to move, he does it, because he can't bear not knowing.

Miserably, he starts, "Is she-?"

Ron cuts him off and refuses to look at him. "She will be."

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A/N x2: This "chapter" got a bit sexier than I'd originally intended. I'm going to blame it on the fact that I wrote it in Harry's POV. He is a teenage boy, after all.