Fake It by Celtics534



Summary: What do you do when your friends won't stop making fun of you for still being a virgin? You go find a man and shag his brains out, right? Well, at least you fake it.
Rating: PG-13 starstarstarstarhalf-star
Categories: Alternate Universe, Post-DH/AB
Characters: None
Genres: None
Warnings: None
Challenges: None
Series: None
Published: 2018.07.04
Updated: 2018.10.12


Fake It by Celtics534
Chapter 2: Chapter 2
Author's Notes:

Warmth made Ginny too content to move. She didn’t even want to stretch, in case she ruined the cocoon of perfection she was currently in. Her eyes remained shut, in hopes of recapturing that immaculate dream she had been having.

“Hey, Ginny?” A deep voice broke through Ginny’s comfort haze. Eyes opening slowly, black hair and green eyes gently came into focus.

“You are not my flat mate,” Ginny muttered sleepily, making Harry chuckle.

“I mean, we would be moving rather fast, but I’m willing to give a go,” Harry bent down and pressed a light, chaste kiss on Ginny’s lips. “How did you sleep?”

Ginny sat up, arms rising above her head. “Really well, you have a really nice spare bed,” she grinned wickedly, “I can only imagine what your bed is like.”

“Trust me, darling,” Harry drawled, suppressing a smile, “you’ll never want to leave.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Ginny laughed, placing her hand on the back of Harry’s neck and pulling him in for a real good morning kiss.

“I thought you might like breakfast, so I made some for us to share.” Harry claimed, once he pulled away from her, his eyes slightly foggy. He gestured to a breakfast tray loaded with a full tradition English breakfast that sat on the bedside table. Eggs, fried tomato, toast, two glasses of orange juice, two cups of coffee (with milk and sugar to the side) … the works.

How in the bloody hell was this man single, Ginny asked herself as Harry situated the tray on her lap. He then moved around the bed and sat on the empty side.

“What time is it anyway?” Ginny asked as she handed Harry one of the forks.

“Six,” Harry took a bacon rasher. “I remember you mentioning you had an early practice, so I wanted to make sure you had a decent breakfast beforehand.”

Ginny, who had just taken a large bite out of one of the sausages, moaned in ecstasy.

“Yeah, I know my sausage is good,” Harry gave her a wink.

“It could just be because I’m hungry,” Ginny was more than willing to fight back on his teasing. “Anybody’s sausages could have sufficed.”

“I doubt that. I haven’t heard good things about Severus Snape’s sausage.”

Ginny snorted. “Well, it’s probably too greasy.”

Harry laughed, having met the potion’s master once before. “How the hell does he get his hair so greasy? It’s unnatural.”

“My twin brothers once snuck into his quarters at Hogwarts. He does have shampoo, believe it or not.”

“No way! Was it open?”

Ginny snatched the remaining half of the tomato, and pointed it at the black-haired man beside her. “Ah, that, my friend, is the real question. The answer is simple and not surprising at all. No.” then she popped the fruit into her mouth, while Harry laughed.

“Could it have just been a new bottle?”

“Well, the amount of dust it had collected didn’t make Fred or George believe Snape had bought the bottle last weekend.”

Harry took a sip of his coffee. “I figured as much, but it’s better not to assume.”

“Very true, Mr. Potter, very true. You wouldn’t want me calling you an arse, would you?”

“You can do whatever you want to my arse, Miss Weasley,” Harry volleyed, a coquettish grin spreading across his lips.

Ginny couldn’t help but laugh at his attempt at flirting. She couldn’t believe how well the two of them flowed. She had heard stories about Harry Potter for years. The boy who destroyed You-Know-Who at the ripe old age of eleven. She didn’t know the whole story, but it always made Harry seem larger than life. It made her picture him to be ten feet tall, with ripped muscles, and a deep voice. Instead, she had received a barely five eleven, broad shouldered yet semi-scrawny, glasses-wearing, incredibly sexy dish of a man… who could cook! With all honesty, she liked the real version of Harry.

“So, when do you get out of practice?” Harry asked, breaking into Ginny’s musings.

“Gwen says by three, but that means five.” Ginny swallowed her forkful of eggs, before continuing, “Why do you ask, Mr. Potter?”

“Well, I remember mentioning an all-you-can-eat restaurant that has our names written all over it, so I figured we could go after practice, if you’re still interested.”

Ginny took the now empty tray, off her lap and placed it on the floor. Then she moved her body so it was positioned over Harry’s. Her face was inches from his. “Trust me,” she whispered, nose tips touching. “I’m plenty interested.” Harry leaned forward and connected their lips. Yet another thing eleven-year-old Ginny would want to scream about, the way Harry Potter’s tongue works.

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“There she is!” Lisa Greene’s hand slapped Ginny’s back as the red-head grabbed her gloves from her locker. Greene, Holds and Grew had all come over from their respective corners of the room to… what? Interrogate me, Ginny thought sardonically, sure I spent the entire night at Harry Potter’s flat (not that they knew it was Harry Potter) and sure I spent the final twenty minutes before I left snogging the man, but still that was on a need to know basis.

“So, Red,” Greene pressed. “Tell us about your night.”

“It was fine,” Ginny claimed, making sure to thwart any blush that tried to creep on to her cheeks. She didn’t need to give her teammates any more encouragement.

“Just fine?” Holds’ eyebrows knitted together. “With looks like that… I doubt he was just fine.”

“Well,” Grew piped in. “He was fine, but yeah, I’m Gretchen on this one, Weasley. You’re holding out on us.”

The three older Harpies started at the young Chaser expectantly.

Ginny couldn’t stop herself from letting out a loud huff of air. They would never get off her back if she didn’t say something. Bloody Hell! She hated this part of the changing-room culture. Ginny liked a little privacy and Harpies loved to dig their claws into any gossip.

“Fine. All I’ll say is,” Ginny picked at her mind, trying to come up with a half-truth at least. “is that his bed was very comfortable this morning.”

The Greene and Hold clapped her on the back again while Grew wolf whistled. “Look at our little Ginny.” Grew mocked wiping a tear. “All grown up.”

“So, Red, when can I take him out for a spin?” Greene asked, winking at Ginny. Hold nodded her desire as well.

“Sorry, ladies,” Ginny grabbed her broom from the designated shelf. “He’s a little busy tonight.”

“Going back for seconds, eh Gin?” Grew laughed.

“What can I say,” Ginny opened the door to the pitch, but turned around to smirk at her fellow Harpies. “His sausage was divine.”

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“This place is brilliant!” Ginny claimed as she tucked into her third helping of cottage pie. Harry couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. “If I had known about this place before joining the Harpies… well, I never would have made the team.”

Harry laughed. “So, in terms of your average second date… How am I doing?”

Ginny sent him a sly smirk across the table. “Second date, huh? Last night was considered our first?”

Harry sent her a saucy wink. “I mean, you did come back to my flat… I shared my sausage with you in the morning. What else could you call it?”

“An average Saturday night?”

“Sorry, yesterday was only Friday.”

Ginny snapped her fingers together, “Damn, I knew I was forgetting something. Oh, well, I was able to get a great cup of hot chocolate out of it, so what’s a little slip up?”

“You don’t hear me complaining.”

“And why would you? You had the pleasure of —“ Whatever Harry had the pleasure of was interrupted by a tall, red-headed man and bushy-haired woman walking past their table. Ginny had jumped up to hug the woman.

“Hermione!” Ginny exclaimed, releasing her apparent friend. “What are you two doing here?” She moved over to the man, giving him the same reception.

“Hermione says she’s tired of paying for three entrees’ when we go out,” the red-head man explained, “so, she figured this was the best compromise.”

Ginny laughed as she turned towards Hermione. “I don’t blame you. I wouldn’t want to have to pay for Ron’s appetite, either.”

“Like yours is any better,” Ron said defensively. He took in the table where Ginny had been dining and for the first time seemed to notice Harry. “Hello,” Ron stuck out his hand politely; Hermione really had been training him all these years! “Nice to meet you. I’m Ron, Ginny’s brother.”

“I’m Harry,” Harry introduced himself, shaking Ron’s hand. “Are you the brother who hit Ginny in the face with a door because you were running from a spider?”

Ron’s pleasant grin faultered as he turned to glare at his sister. “Why are you still telling people that story? It was ten years ago.”

Ginny laughed. “Because it’s a great ice breaker. Who else has a story of a ten-year-old boy screaming bloody murder when a five-centimeter spider crawls on a window ledge?”

“The smaller they are, the more dangerous they are,” Ron protested weakly. Hermione moved to place an arm around Ron.

“I said possibly more dangerous, Ronald,” Hermione corrected. “Besides you didn’t know me when you were ten, so you had no way of knowing that information.”

“I could have looked it up in a book,” Ron claimed, making both his sister and girlfriend snort.

“Anyway,” Hermione changed the topic. “We were going to this new dance club.” Ginny’s eyebrow raised quizzically. “Ron lost a bet,” Hermione explained smiling. “He thought Bill and Fleur would have a boy. I told him it was a girl, because of the way she was carrying. He challenged me… which you would think he would know better after nearly ten years. If he won we would get Cannons season tickets — “

“Come on,” Ginny complained lightly swatting her brother on the arm, a mock grimace on her face. “You would pick the Cannons over supporting your sister?”

“Yes,” Ron said a smug smirk pulling at his lips.

Harry, who had grown up as an only child, with only his godfather, Remus, Tonks, and Dumbledore as company, couldn’t help but admire the sibling comradery. They bantered with each other easily, nothing off the table, and nothing seemed to really anger them. Harry had to wonder if that was something that formed as siblings grew older, their tolerance to teasing, or was it just these two?

Hermione continued explaining as if the siblings had never spoken. “I decided that we would have to go out more often, with different and new activities, if I won. So, here we are. It’s dinner and dancing night.” Hermione looked between Harry and Ginny. “Would you to like to join us? The club is only a few blocks from here.”

Harry did not dance. Really, he couldn’t dance. Sirius had tried to teach him, but it seemed Harry was born with two left feet when it came to dancing. Hell, every damn Ministry ball was Harry’s worst nightmare.

Ginny, however, looked thrilled by the idea. She looked at Harry pleadingly, clearly hoping he wanted to go as well. Bloody Buggering Hell. “Sure,” Harry tried to make his tone more upbeat. The smile Ginny sent him made it worth it.

“Great!” Hermione claimed. “I’m just going to use the loo and we can head out if you two are ready.”

“Perfect,” Ginny came over to Harry’s side. “How about we meet outside in five minutes?”

Hermione agreed, for both her and Ron, and the two walked off in the direction of the toilets.

“Thanks,” Ginny wrapped her arms around Harry’s neck, giving him a quick kiss. “I don’t know if you even like dancing, but I’m really glad you agreed to go.”

Harry smiled at her. “Keep that in mind when you’re icing your feet later tonight.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Loud music, too many people, and piss poor, expensive drinks would be the way Harry described this new dance club. He, Ginny, Ron and Hermione arrived and all Harry wanted to do was sit in a corner. Ron seemed to follow his train of thought, as he looked around the room grimacing. The two women, however, had different thoughts.

“Come on, Ron” Hermione took her boyfriend’s hand, dragging him out to the dance floor. Ginny looked over at Harry.

“How about we get a couple of drinks,” she suggested. Harry was more than happy to dodge dancing for as long as he could. He had never honestly been to a club before, having never been interested, so the dancing styles he was watching were a little more… intense then he was used to.

Once they had received their beverages, Harry and Ginny found a small sofa to rest on. After taking a sip of her drink, Ginny leaned up towards Harry, her lips practically touching his ear. “Did I tell you about my teammates today?”

Harry shook his head, trying to ignore the pleasant shivers spreading down his spine.

“They wanted to know how everything went last night.”

“Oh, yeah?” Harry spoke over the noise, so Ginny could hear him. “What did you tell them?”

“That your bed was super comfortable and that you really knew your way around your sausage.”

Harry snorted, unable to prevent the blood from rushing to his cheeks. “What did they say?”

“Oh,” Ginny finally did connect her lips to his skin, her voice taking on a silky texture. “They wanted to know when they could take a turn. I told them you were busy.”

“Ah, I’m glad you keep track of my schedule so well,” Harry turned his head so he could move his lips to her ear. “I’m booked for the foreseeable future, if they ask again.”

Harry could feel Ginny’s grin on his neck as she dragged those frisky lips from place to place. Though he was a healthy twenty-year-old man, never had Harry ever been so aroused. Merlin, what this woman was doing to him, and he had only known her less than a week!

Ginny moved her attention back up towards his ear. “Alright, Potter,” her voice was husky, “it’s time we dance.” She leaned away, making Harry begroan the loss of contact. Ginny stood and grabbed his hand, dragging him off his arse and towards the dance floor.

“I really don’t know how to dance,” Harry protested once Ginny had found them a spot towards the outer circle.

“Don’t talk, Harry,” Ginny put a finger over his lips. “Just grab on to my waist and follow my lead.”

Harry did as he was told, his body pressed to hers, her arms hanging around his neck. Ginny started to move her hips, upper torso, moving in time with the music. Harry didn’t even realize his body started to mimic her, his attention fully focused on her. He could have sworn she had magnetized him to her. If she moved one way, he followed.

Bloody Hell, he loved the way her body moved. It was perfect. Her shape; the way her body curved… Merlin! Harry wasn’t a pig, though. Her humor, mind, and general personality were just as incredible. He couldn’t believe he was there, dancing with such a pure, outstanding woman.

Time lost meaning as Harry and Ginny moved together, keeping pace with the music. Finally, Ginny moved her lips to his ear. “I’m ready to leave. What about you?”

Though he had been enjoying being so close to her, Harry was more than happy to leave the obnoxious club. Ginny released him, claiming that she would let Ron and Hermione know they were leaving. She offered to meet him outside, which he was more than happy to oblige.

The London street had cleared during their time in the club. Harry leaned against the outer wall, loving the fresh air. He hadn’t realized how clogged his senses had become between all the different fragrances and smoke machines.

It only took Ginny a minute to meet him. The walked together down the street, no purpose or set location.

“And you said you couldn’t dance,” Ginny teased as she wrapped her arm around his, leaning against him.

“Trust me, this was an anomaly,” Harry tilted his head down and pressed a light kiss to the top of Ginny’s head. “Not to mention it wasn’t me dancing well. It was you.”

“Well, call the Department of Mysteries, because they should add it to the record books. Harry Potter, twenty, gyrates well in Muggle club due to Ginny Weasley.”

“Careful where you say that,” Harry laughed. “The Prophet will demand an interview.”

“You think your famous enough to warrant an article?” Ginny mocked, flicking the tip of his nose.

“I was only thinking about your reputation, my dear.” Harry placed his free hand on his chest in mock surprise. “Would Ginny Weasley want to be seen dancing with such an abysmal partner?”

Ginny stopped their movement, and pulled back on Harry’s arm. He turned to face her, her body dangerously close. “I really don’t care about what people say about me,” Ginny explained, a hard-blazing look held his attention. “Let them say what they want about me and you.” She grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him into one of the most powerful and sensual kisses Harry had ever experienced. They were in the middle of a London, open for anyone to see them, but Harry couldn’t give a rat’s arse. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close to him.

Ginny pulled her lips slightly away from his, eyes darker than normal. “I think I should go back to your flat tonight. I still haven’t tested your bed.”

Harry’s brain was working overtime. He didn’t want to assume anything, but he really, really hoped she meant what he thought she meant. He nodded, unable to form a coherent thought, let alone a word. He took them around a corner, trying to find a hidden spot to Disapperate. Finally, a small alley on the side of a restaurant became his saving grace. He took Ginny in his arms, holding her tightly as he turned on the spot.

They landed on the front step of this flat. He tapped the door knob with his wand, allowing them access. They walked through the entryway, still wrapped together. The minute the door closed behind them, Harry held nothing back, he pressed her against the entryway wall. His lips gliding against any part of her he could reach. Her neck, jaw, cheeks, her lips… Ginny responded just as enthusiastically. She pushed him back, backing him to the other wall.

“You sure about this, Gin?” Harry muttered as he kissed behind her ear. He wasn’t sure how much control he would have if they kept this up.

Ginny took her lips off his neck, then grabbing the hem of his shirt, she tugged it over his head, dropping it to the floor. “Come on, Potter,” she pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “Let go spend the night in your room, I want to make sure your bedsheets only smell like me.”

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