SIYE Time:1:46 on 19th March 2024 SIYE Login: no | | |
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Category: Alternate Universe, Post-Hogwarts
Characters:Harry/Ginny
Genres: Fluff, Humor, Romance
Warnings: Extreme Language, Intimate Sexual Situations, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Situations
Story is Complete
Rating: R
Reviews: 61
Summary: Most things didn’t come naturally to Harry -- like brewing a Pepperup Potion or making a halfway decent treacle tart. In fact, the only thing that had come naturally was Quidditch… until he met Ginny Weasley.
Hitcount: Story Total: 55638; Chapter Total: 4998
Awards: View Trophy Room
Author's Notes: I don’t how but I’ve been uploading weekly… It’s a surprise to us all. Arnel, TheDistantDusk, and gryffindormischief have been super helpful throughout this chapter, editing and making suggestions, so I thank all of them!
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Harry stared up at the ceiling of his new bedroom. Tomorrow was the first game of the season -- Puddlemere versus the Tornados. Training over the past month had been grueling. Endless tactical sessions, coordination drills, and stair climbs. So many stair climbs!
Every night, Harry came home exhausted. Though he had been in his new flat for just over a month, there were still numerous boxes lying about, ones that still needed to be unpacked. Most nights after practice, all he could manage was cooking a trivial, unexciting meal in his small kitchen, showering, and falling into bed.
Ginny seemed to be having the same struggles. On one of the rare days when they had both had a free afternoon, Ginny had met him at his flat. They had lounged about, resting their weary bodies, chatting about the differences between the two Quidditch clubs.
“Gwen does not accept anything but knee to chest,” Ginny had said, her head resting on Harry’s lap as they sat on his sofa. Her eyes were half closed as Harry combed his fingers across her scalp. “I swear I’m going to fall up those stairs one of these times.”
“I did fall yesterday,” Harry retorted. “Left a nice bruise on my right hip, I’ll tell you.”
Ginny had lazily opened one eye lazily and given him a coy smile. “Need me to kiss and make it better?”
That had led to a much more enjoyable form of exercise than stair climbs.
Unfortunately, Harry hadn’t been able to see Ginny much since that heavenly day two weeks ago. Just short Floo calls and long letters. Not enough, in Harry’s opinion. Though to be fair, he didn’t think there would ever be enough time with Ginny Weasley.
Harry turned onto his side, forcefully shutting his eyes. Merlin, he would regret it if he didn’t get at least some sleep. Sure, there was no way he would have to play in the game tomorrow, but he wanted to at least look semi-alert.
“Harry?”
Harry’s eyes flew open and he looked around wildly as his senses adjusted to the low light in the room. There by the door -- with hunched shoulders -- was Ginny. Her red hair looked darker in the moonlight streaming through the large gap in the curtains.
“Gin?” He sat up. “What happened?”
The more Harry woke, the more detail he could see. Ginny’s hand was rubbing the back of her neck, as her face was darkened from the telltale sign of blush.
“Nothing happened,” she admitted. “I just — “ She took a deep breath, which seemed to help her regain some of her normal confidence, as her removed her hand from her neck and straighten her shoulders. “I wanted to see you.”
“You wanted to…” Harry’s mind was having a hard time catching up. Once it had, he threw the covers off himself and headed over towards the door. He pulled Ginny into a tight embrace. “Yeah? Me, too.” He kissed her tenderly, hoping it expressed just how much he truly had missed her. “Wanna spend the night here?”
With her face still pressed into his neck, Harry could only feel Ginny nod. They walked as one towards his bed, and laid down still wrapped in each other’s arms.
“Are you nervous?” Harry asked. The Harpies had their first game tomorrow against the Bats.
“I don’t know why,” Ginny confessed. “It’s not like I’m going to play or anything.” She removed her face from its hiding spot and looked at Harry, her expression barely visible in the almost complete darkness of the bedroom. “I’m excited, yet every time I think about it, my heart starts to run a relay race.”
“I know what you mean, Gin.” Harry lightly caressed her cheek with the side of his thumb. “But I think that’s a good thing. We should be nervous. My mum likes to say that if you’re worried about something that just means you actually care.”
Ginny let out a deep sigh, as she placed her head on Harry’s chest. Her breath spread warmth across his bare skin. “She’s right. I know she’s right, but it’s still…” She let her sentence hang, but Harry understood what she meant perfectly.
He tightened his hold around Ginny’s waist, pulling her tighter. They laid in silence, each lost in their own thoughts and anxieties until Ginny interrupted with a snort.
“What?” Harry asked, his lips twitching at her unexpected outburst.
“If my brothers had just seen that scene, they would have been relentless. Merlin knows they already tease me enough for being a girl, but a vulnerable one at that?” She snorted again. “Forget about it.”
“I doubt that.” Harry pressed a kiss to the crown of Ginny’s head. “From the stories you’ve told me they probably would have run away, not made fun of you.”
“Weasley boys and emotions do not mix,” Ginny huffed out a quiet laugh. “Once Ron’s girlfriend told him he had the emotional range of a teaspoon.”
Harry chuckled. “And I’m assuming you agree.”
“To say the least.”
Harry ran his hands up and down Ginny’s spine. The soft cotton of her new Harpies shirt felt wonderful against his fingers. “You know I’ll never tease you for being vulnerable, right?”
Ginny scooted her body up the length of the bed, making it so her face was level with his. She didn’t speak, but the way she kissed him left him no doubt that she understood perfectly.
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“One and oh, boys!” Danger cheered, as he lifted his pint into the air. The rest of the Puddlemere players copied the chaser’s actions with a chant of their own.
Harry had joined his new teammates in their after-game pub crawl, a tradition that spanned many seasons according to Wood. They were on a collective fifth pitcher at the second bar, and there seemed to be no end in sight.
“So, Potter. ” Oliver Wood sauntered over, full glass in hand. “What did you think?”
“It was.” Harry struggled to find the right word. “Intense.”
“That’s a good way to put it.” Wood took a long pull from his drink. “It’s even better when you’re flying.” He sent a conspiratorially glace towards the rest of the team, who were cheerful making jokes at each other’s expenses, and lowered his voice. “There’s talk about you and Fletcher having a Seeker battle.”
“No foolin’? ” Harry couldn’t contain his surprise. It made sense for him and Fletcher to train with one another, but a battle, really? Wood had explained them to him earlier in the season but the idea that he was going to be a part of one…
“Coach Cara thinks Fletcher’s losing his touch. He wants to see if you have it.” Wood put an arm around Harry’s shoulder and started guiding him away from the bar, back towards the group.. “And trust me, mate, you have it. With a little more practice, I’d say you’ll beat Fletcher and get the starting spot.”
Harry’s stomach clenched. He was thrilled that he was a candidate, that Cara though him to be as good as, if not better than, someone who had been playing professionally for almost five years. At the same time though… that was a whole lot of fucking pressure. Sure, after his conversations with Ginny he’d started to have more confidence in himself, but this was different, seeing as he wasn’t sleeping with the person claiming he could be good enough.
Wood guided him back to the rowdy team, plopping him in a chair next to Devlin, one of the team’s Chasers. From that point on Harry was involved in all of the drunken but oddly-sophisticated conversations. Well, sophisticated until the topic of women came along, just a little while after midnight.
“All I’m saying.” Artie Morgan pressed his point by hitting the table with his finger loudly. “Is that women who play Quidditch tend to be more flexible, which means they’re great in bed.”
Sam Love snorted. “What player have you been with? Better yet...” Sam’s drunken smile became wicked. “What woman has been willing to shag your sorry excuse for a beater arse?”
A collective chuckle came from the group.
“I’ll have you know. ” Morgan took his abused digit and pointed it at Love. “I’ve been with that bird from the Bats.”
Morgan’s fellow Beater, John Bastille, started to snicker. “Oh, yeah, I remember that night. Let me just say that as your roommate of a very thinly-walled flat, those were not impressed noises. Also, learn a bloody Silencing Charm! I never wanna hear that again.”
Everyone but Morgan roared with laughter. It took a few moments but eventually Love calmed down enough to say, “You know what team I think has the best women?” He paused for a moment, as if expecting the group to actually guess. When it was clear no one would play his game, Love continued, “The Harpies.”
Harry jerked slightly, nearly tipping his beer; fortunately for Bastille’s trousers, he pulled back on the glass. No one noticed the new seeker’s reaction, all were too busy agreeing with Love.
“Have you seen that new chaser?” Fletcher spoke up for the first time in a while. “I saw her on the roster and looked her up. I think it was Weasel. Red hair.” He started making exaggerated curves with his hands.
If Harry had ever liked Fletcher, this would have been a turning point.
His intoxicatedly loose tongue was about to give his teammate a lashing, but Wood beat him to the punch. “Oi, I know her. Her name is Weasley and she’s the little sister to some of my old teammates, so watch it, Fletcher.”
Harry started nodding without thinking, which drew all eyes to him.
“Do you know her too, Potter?” Love asked, quirking an eyebrow.
It was comical how big Harry’s eyes seemed to grow. He looked quickly from one face to another, hoping to find an ally, someone who would say it was preposterous that this no-name seeker would know a Harpy and offer to bring up a new topic. Instead, all Harry received was curious and hopeful faces.
“I - uh - I.” He cleared his throat and his hand jumped to the back of his heated neck. “Yeah. I do.”
“You know Ginny?” Wood asked, a small smirk appearing on his lips. “How?”
“We met at tryouts.”
Bastille squinted at Harry, clearly thinking hard, which was not an easy feat in his current state. Finally, his face broke out into a wide grin. “You’ve shagged her!” He claimed, obviously proud of his detective abilities.
Harry could feel the burn of a thousand suns on his cheeks as his teammates stared at him, waiting for confirmation. “I - I - I’m dating her.” He decided that full disclosure was the best way to handle this fucked up situation.
Everyone just continued to look at him in silence until Bastille let out an appreciative whistle. “Fucking hell, Potter! How did you manage that?”
“Better yet,” Love piped up. “Why are you here with us and not with her?” He stood up and pulled Harry to his feet as well. “You’re shagging a Harpy and you’re here having a pint? What is wrong with you? Post-game sex is the best, especially if you’ve won the game.”
Love pushed Harry towards the pub’s exit. “The Harpies won as well, so we better not hear from you until practice on Monday.”
Harry walked out of the pub to the sound of his team’s approval and encouragement. He felt slightly confused, but was nonetheless thrilled for the excuse to leave the pub and spend time with Ginny.
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“So, they kicked you out of the party so you could come find me, take me back to your flat, and have your way with me?” Ginny asked, in between pressing kisses down the length of Harry’s neck.
Harry had found his girlfriend right where she had said she would be -- in The Harpy, the Harpies’ choice of pub in Holyhead. He had snuck up behind her, whispered in her ear (“Meet me at my place in ten minutes.”) then disappeared.
Apparently, Ginny was willing to follow orders, because she made it back to Harry’s in ten minutes flat. Things had escalated from there. Harry had pressed Ginny against his sitting room wall, she’d unbuckled his belt, and Harry had guided them to his room.
Harry would never tell him this, but Love was right about post-win sex… Holy fuck!
An hour and a half later, they were perfectly content discussing their activities after both their wins. Ginny had found out that Harpies enjoyed drinking competitions, which tended to lead to strength contests (arm wrestling was apparently a staple for post-game parties). Harry had explained how the Puddlemere United Quidditch team had figured out about their cross-team romance.
“Yeah, pretty much,” Harry tilted his neck, giving Ginny more access to his bare skin.
Ginny moved from her position beside Harry to straddle his hips. Harry couldn’t contain a moan as certain parts of his and hers connected tantalizingly.
“Gwen said that one of her favorite post-game traditions,” Ginny murmured against Harry’s jaw, moving her mouth in a set course towards his, “is to shag the brains of out some bloke she picks up at the bar.” Finally, she allowed their lips to connect. “I think you and I should have a similar tradition.”
“I’m more than happy to assist you in this endeavor,” Harry claimed as he flipped them over, taking control. “How about we start right now?”
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“Seeker battle?” Ginny asked, dipping her tortilla chip into the salsa bowl and scooping a generous amount. “I’ve never heard of it.”
“Apparently, it’s a Puddlemere tradition,” Harry explained as he sliced a tomato to be fried. He and Ginny had spent the last several hours preoccupied with primitive urges. It wasn’t until they’d both been sated that another core appetite had become apparent.
Harry had volunteered a basic fry up, and Ginny was more than happy to let her boyfriend show off his culinary skills. They had thrown on the bare minimum (Harry in a pair of sweats and Ginny in her knickers and an old shirt of Harry’s), and headed into the kitchen to scrounge for food.
“When the coach thinks someone has a chance at out-playing the current starter, he starts a battle. Best two out of three.” Harry flipped the sausages over to avoid burning one side. “Wood told me about them in my first week, but I didn’t think I would be placed in one, especially so soon.”
Ginny let her half-eaten chip hang suspended halfway between her mouth and bowl. “Wait… so you’re in the running for a starting position?” Harry still had his back to her, but Ginny knew he had a small self-satisfied smirk on his lips. It was the same smirk he had whenever he completed a complex Quidditch move, out sassed her, or every time she cried out his name in bed.
“Yeah, I think so.”
There was a count of three before Ginny hopped out of her chair, her pre-meal snack completely forgotten. She wrapped her arms around Harry from behind, holding him tightly.
“What did I tell you?!” Ginny asked, a little too loudly for an acceptable inside tone.
Harry allowed her to excitedly chatter in his ear (about how she knew this would happen and how he was going to be incredible) for a few moments before turning himself around in her arms. Ginny had been right about that smirk, but there was more than pleasure in his expression. The way he was looking at her… it was like he could see right through, into her inner core. It stopped her mid-sentence.
He didn’t speak, he just embraced her, as his hand guided her face to the crook of his neck. Ginny breathed in deeply, taking in his overwhelmingly intoxicating scent, the way his calloused fingers made small circles at the base of her neck, and the way his nose burrowed into her hair.
“Thank you, Gin,” Harry murmured, and his words warmed her like hot drink.
Harry was one of the quietest men she knew, (though to be fair, she’d grown up with six rowdy brothers) but even compared to some of her calmer male friends, Harry was an internal creature. He wasn’t one to share all his thoughts or explain why he did something one way instead of another.
However, where most people would have floundered around with words to try and express some of the emotions they were feeling, Harry decided to show, and honestly, Ginny preferred that. Anyone could say words, but not everyone could show how they truly felt. Between the way he was holding her and the way he had looked at her, Ginny knew what he was thinking. She knew the unspoken words they both felt.
They remained in each other’s embraces until the toast popped out of the toaster, breaking the heavy silence. They broke apart, but Harry kept her gaze for a little longer. Ginny bit her lower lip to prevent herself from being the one to speak first.
Harry turned away and focused his attention back on their breakfast-for-dinner, leaving Ginny slightly breathless. Holy fucking Merlin! The way that man worked those gorgeous eyes...
“So.” Ginny waited until they were seated with heaping plates of glorious breakfast foods before returning to the previous conversation. “What happens in a seeker battle?”
Harry chewed his bite of sausage slowly, collecting his thoughts. Once he had swallowed, he said, “My guess is they release the Snitch and the first one to catch it wins.”
“You don’t think there will be any tricks or obstacles?”
“Besides Fletcher?”
Ginny nodded.
“Well, I’m guessing there may be bludgers and whatnot.”
Ginny let out an unsatisfied huff as Harry stood to clear their now-empty plates. “Damn. I wanted to see you catch the snitch with one hand tied behind your back and one eye closed.”
Harry laughed, placing the unwashed dishes into the sink. He moved in front of Ginny’s chair, kneeling and using the base of the seat to turn her so she was facing him. “If you wanted to tie me up, Gin,” Harry whispered into her ear as he moved his lips enticingly down her jawline and to her lips. “All you had to do was ask.”
Slightly stunned but unwilling to let Harry get the best of her twice in one night, Ginny pushed him into a standing position and moved him backwards until his back was touching the cool counter.
She nipped at his bottom lip. “Lead the way, Potter.”
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