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SIYE Time:8:10 on 19th March 2024
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Natural
By Celtics534

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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: 55646; Chapter Total: 4436
Awards: View Trophy Room




Author's Notes:
Huge thank you toTheDistantDusk and gryffindormischief for their awesome beta skills! I will say quickly, sorry this chapter took so long to come out. Holidays are always busy with a large family like mine. That doesn’t matter now, because I have a chapter for y’all!




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“Potter!” Coach Cara’s voice somehow filled the field as he called from one side to the other. Harry and the rest of the second team turn to look towards the disruption. Cara had the first squad lined up, only Fletcher out of place. “Come over here!”

Harry rushed to his feet (having been performing a figure four stretch) and hurried over to the opposite side of the stadium.

“Potter,” Cara repeated once Harry was in normal tone’s distance. “I want you and Fletcher to compete in a couple of challenges.”

Fletcher, Harry noticed, did not look happy about Cara’s request. In fact, he looked downright murderous. The rest of the team watched, their eyes flicking between Harry and Fletcher, sizing them up. Oliver caught Harry’s eye and winked.

“Mason!” Cara called to the secondary coach. “Grab a Snitch. You two.” He pointed at Harry and Fletcher. “Line up here.”

They did as they were told. Mason came back with their brooms in one hand and the golden ball held tightly in the other.

Harry took his broom, closing his eyes as he mounted into position. He could do this. He just needed to focus.


“Best two of three catches is the winner,” Cara claimed. “On my mark.” He blew his ear-piercing whistle and Harry’s eyes shot open. He watched as Mason released the tiny Snitch, eyes following as it zoomed onto the field. He and Fletcher took off into the sky as one, both ready to be crowned the victor.

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Harry’s eyes roamed over the field, looking for any sort of glittering gold. After two hours, he was starting to feel as if the game would never end. He and Fletcher had already completed two out of the three rounds.

Fletcher had won the first. The Snitch seemed to gravitate to him. Harry, however, claimed the second round. Not only had it surprised the first team (except Wood), but it had shocked Harry when the little gold ball had almost choked him after flying into his mouth.

Now here he was, determined to win more than ever. Harry had taken to scanning the area from above, a birds eye view. Fletcher had a different method. He hovered lower, towards where regular play would commence. Every so often he would make a wave-like motion, going up then down.

Harry looked over towards what would be the other team’s goal posts. Nothing glinted. He moved at a steady place, eyes flickering high then low.

A Bludger came charging towards Harry, forcing him to perform an awkward barrel roll. Fletcher, who was flying just below him, snorted loudly at Harry’s new aerial dance move. With a face mimicking the color of a tomato, Harry sped off to the other end of the pitch. That was when he saw it: A small glint of silver and gold. The golden snitch was above the home team’s post, its wings flapping wildly.

Fletcher clearly hadn’t seen it; he’d been on the other side of the field, and his attention had been focused closer to the grass. Harry didn’t have to feign or dodge any other players...no, he simply leaned close to the handle of the broom and sped forward.

“Potter’s seen it!” an excited call came from one of his fellow players in the stands (where the team had all gone to enjoy the competition).

Harry couldn’t resist the urge to look back. Fletcher was staring opened-mouth as he gained on the ball.

The sound of heavy air passed right by Harry’s left ear, forcing him to veer to the right. A Bludger had come hurtling towards him, missing him by mere inches. In his distraction, the Snitch had disappeared from Harry’s view.

Harry swore loudly, only able to blame himself. He went back to the center of the field and gained altitude, focusing all his attention on finding some gleam of gold.

After another twenty minutes, Harry’s eyes were starting glaze over. He kept having to blink rapidly to regain full sight. As far as he could tell, Fletcher wasn’t faring much better. He kept shaking his head as if to abolish his drowsiness.

Both he and Harry were currently positioned to the right of center field. Fletcher was combing the grass, and Harry was focusing his attention on the sky. While looking down to see if Fletcher had seen anything, Harry finally made eye contact with his opponent. Fletcher’s eyes were a harsh grey, a shade that seemed to transmit anger just by contact.

Then a shimmer of that treacherous gold shone between him and Fletcher, and Harry saw Fletcher’s gaze flicker towards the movement as well. As one, both Seekers started rushing forward, both low to the broom handle. They came onto the same level, neck and neck. Fifty feet… thirty feet… both their hands stretched out, both of their fingers twitched in anticipation of catching that elusive ball.

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“Gin!” Harry called through the fireplace. He’d recklessly stuck his head into the green flames after calling out the location of Ginny’s dorm room.
A surprised noise come out of the bedroom, followed by the sound of someone landing on the wooden floor. Ginny hurried out. “Harry? What the actual fuck?”

“I’m coming through!” Harry was already pulling his head out of the fire, not allowing Ginny to respond. He stepped into the flames and spun into the small sitting room where Ginny was waiting for him.

“You know most people -” Ginny started to say, but Harry cut her off with a kiss. His hands moved quickly to her backside, lifting her off her feet. Ginny let out a small noise of surprise, but Harry kept with his plan. Ginny wrapped her legs around his waist to help support herself, and Harry guided them into her room, closing the door behind him with the heel of his foot.

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“Not that I’m complaining,” Ginny huffed out as she rolled off Harry, keeping her head pillowed on his chest. “But what the bloody hell was that all about?”

Harry craned his neck forward and pressed a kiss to the top of Ginny’s head. “You have just shagged Puddlemere United’s next starting Seeker.”

“What?!” Ginny sat up so fast her hair was just little more than a red blur, though that could have been from Harry’s lack of glasses. She turned her body so she was facing him, and in her haste, the thin sheet that had once covered her fell from her breasts, giving him a great view of her front. “You beat Fletcher?” There was no surprise in her question, she was just asking for assurance.

“You bet your sweet arse I did.” Harry reached for the aforementioned body part and sat up, reconnecting his lips with hers. Ginny fell backwards, pulling Harry with her. Their feet, which were now up by the headboard, knocked some of the pillows off the bed onto the floor in a heap.

“Oh, kinky,” Harry murmured against her mouth.

“If you qualify this as kinky...” Ginny snorted as she pinched Harry’s hip. “You and I have been downright filthy in the sitting room.” She slowly made her way to his jawline, then up towards his left ear. “The shower has seen some things.”

Now she was by his earlobe, letting her teeth graze the cartilage.

“And don’t get me started on the kitchen table.”

Harry, who had been focusing all his efforts on her neck, moved his face to hers. “I would love to hear you retell the story of the kitchen table.”

“Maybe later,” Ginny let her lips reconnect with his for a tantalizingly short minute. “Right now, I have something else to... bring up...other than old stories.” She moved her hands down his chest, fingers threading through the dark hair that ran down Harry’s toned stomach.

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“So,” Sirius let his voice fill the small kitchen, his over-dramatic tone in full effect. “You called me all the way over here -”

“Because Apparating is such a chore for you,” Harry muttered, placing the full kettle on the stove.

Sirius continued as if Harry hadn’t spoken. “Just for tea and some basic biscuits. I’m offended.”

“I figured you’d like the biscuits.” A mock pout spread across Harry’s face. “Being such a dog, and all.”

It took a grand total of five seconds for Sirius’ composure to break. He let out a loud laugh. “Well played, Harry. Well played.” He took the still steaming mug of tea Harry offered him. “So, what’s really up? I’m assuming it has something to do with your new beau? Ginny isn’t it?”

Harry placed the reasonably priced biscuits on the table and reclaimed his vacant seat. “Been gossiping with Dad, have you?”

“It’s not gossip if it’s true, ” Sirius defended, pointing a defiant finger at Harry. “Besides, it was your mother who informed me of, how did she put it? ‘Our little Harry’s growing up’.”

Harry took a sip of his gradually cooling drink, unable to contain an affectionate eye roll. “Right.”

“Your father did give you the talk, right?”

Harry started to choke on his tea. Spluttering, he said, “Merlin! Yes, Sirius.”

Sirius’ smirk was wicked. “Miss Weasley satisfied, huh?”

“I’ve heard no complaints.” Harry could have fried an egg on his face, he was sure of that. “No. I wanted your opinion on how to introduce Ginny to Mum and Dad.”

“That’s it?” Sirius looked taken aback, yet still amused. “I thought it was going to be something on a much more -”

“No, I have that covered,” Harry protested. He had no desire to hear what Sirius would call tips and tricks. “No. I just want to make sure that… I want to make sure…” Why did words keep eluding him?

Sirius, however, seemed to take pity on his godson. “You want to make sure they love her as much as you love her.”

If the lights had been off, Harry was ninety percent sure his face could have illuminated the room in a red glow.

He nodded.

“Well then.” Sirius clapped his hands together, rubbing them in a scheming manner. “This is an easy request, my favorite godson.”

“I’m your only godson,” Harry muttered, but he allowed Sirius to continue on his sermon.

“If you love her…” The dramatic pause really wasn’t necessary. “Then they will love her too.”

Harry stared at the older man. “That’s it?”

That wicked smirk re-appeared on Sirius’ lips. “That’s it.” Interpreting Harry’s disbelieving scowl correctly, he continued, “All your parents want for you, Harry, is happiness. If Ginny is what makes you happy, they will love her.” He reached across the table and placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Trust me. Just wait and see.”

He did trust Sirius. The fact that his godfather was so confident about the future relationship between the most important people in his life made Harry’s feel as if he could fly.

“When do you plan on this big introduction?” Sirius asked, taking one of the cookies from the plate and giving it a cautious sniff as though it might be poisonous.

“I was thinking that Sunday after my first game… Sunday dinner. Ginny and I both have the day off.”

Sirius nodded in agreement. “That sounds decent. Food always puts your father in a good mood.” He put the sweet back down on the plate. “Now. Where are you hiding the good biscuits? Because I am no basic bitch, and after that incredible advice, I deserve the best you’ve got.”

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Harry tried to remember how normal breathing used to be. How he could just inhale than exhale.

It wasn’t like that today. Because today was his first professional match.

Merlin, those words alone…

He had tried to treat it like any other day. He’d woken up with Ginny sprawled across the bed, cooked a hearty breakfast for the two of them (which had been hard to swallow), he’d taken a shower (which Ginny had been kind enough to join), and then he’d left his flat for the morning workout.

It wasn’t a normal day, though. No, he couldn’t lie to himself. When Ginny had given him a kiss for good luck, he had nearly vomited (which wouldn’t have been a very romantic goodbye). Just the mere idea of walking out onto that field, broom in hand, made Harry’s knees want to buckle.

Taking a deep breath, he remembered the parting words Ginny’d had for him. “You’re going to be nervous before the game, but the minute you’re in the air…” She had smiled and nodded knowingly.

Harry figured she was right. That’s what it had been like at school. Nerves had tried to take over his body, but the minute the whistle had blown… Yeah, he just needed to be in the thick of it. That’s where everything became lost, except the game itself.

“It’s time.” Cara’s voice came from the doorway of the locker room. The white noise that had filled the room came into sharp clarity as Harry’s teammates started to chant and cheer. Harry grabbed his broom and took one final deep breath.

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“And today is Potter’s first professional game,” commentator Phillip Mothers told the wireless listeners. “He went to school in America, where he was the youngest Seeker to play for Ilvermorny.”

“From the little we know about him,” Dan Gregory continued his partner’s train of thought. “He rather good at a quick catch. His record is under five minutes.”

“But that was at school, so the level of difficulty has increased drastically,” Mothers reminded Gregory.

“True, but he is the son of the well known Chaser James Potter, so I have a feeling Quidditch is in his blood.”

“Well.” Mothers voice was slowly being overrun by an intense unknown song. “We’ll be finding out shortly. Puddlemere United versus Banchory Bangers starts next.”

As the music swelled to cover any discussions that may have been happening inside the commentating booth, Ginny leaned back in her arm chair. She and her family had gathered for a Sunday lunch, which just happened to co-align with the Puddlemere game. Ginny had been the one to suggest converging in the sitting room to listen to the game.

“They sound pretty unsure about Potter,” Bill observed, sipping on his Butterbeer. “He was in the same tryouts as you, right Ginny?”

“Yeah, he’s really good.” Ginny smiled at her eldest brother.

She hadn’t told any of them about her and Harry, except for her mother and father. She loved surprising them with her boyfriends. Their introduction to Dean had been -- well, awkward at the time, but hilarious in retrospect. Snogging in a deserted corridor was always better if your youngest brother didn’t discover you.

The announcers came back on with a final debriefing of the the two teams. Both placed bets on the Bangers, largely because of the inexperienced Seeker for Puddlemere. Ginny remained silent, but inside she was bellowing her disagreement.

“You know,” George spoke from beside Fred on the sofa, where they had been drafting out plans for a new candy that would make the eater speak only in truthful rhymes, “if I were a betting man-” Ginny and Bill both snorted. “I’d gamble that Potter’s gonna a pull off a great catch. If not just to prove everyone wrong.”

“I’m glad you’ve said that, George.” Fred placed down his quill and reached into his pocket, producing a betting slip. “Because I’ve placed one hundred Galleons on Puddlemere today.”

With the knowledge that they could lose big on this match, George and Fred’s attention became much more hyper focused on the match. Ginny was the same, but for a different reason than her twin brothers. Her ears trained for the name Potter.

After an hour of play (where Harry had only been mentioned to explain his Seeking strategy), excited music started to play behind the announcers. A sign for a Snitch sighting.

“Potter and Warren are both heading to the center of the field,” Gregory claimed excitedly. “Both on opposite sides of the pitch. Oh! I see it! It’s flying straight up in the middle of the pitch. Potter and Warren are now level with each other. Both have arms outstretched.”

“Devlin has scored again!” Mothers said, keeping up with the rest of the game. “That makes the score two hundred and twenty to one hundred and seventy. Whoever catches the Snitch will win the game for their team.”

“Come on Harry!” Ginny jumped up from her seat in her excitement. She had forgotten where she was, or who she was with. All that mattered was whether Harry caught the Snitch.

Fred and George seemed to agree with her proclamation. They stood as well and started cheering, “Come on, Potter!”

“Warren shouldered Potter hard, but Potter seems to be giving as good as he’s received.” Gregory’s tone was filled with uncontained thrill. Between the brand new Seeker and a close match, nothing was more exciting.

“Both Seekers are climbing high into the air. Any incident from this point on will be catastrophic. Warren’s arm has an inch on Potter’s.” There was a sudden scuffling in the commentators’ box. “Wait, the Snitch has changed course! It’s turned to the right, giving Potter the advantage.”

“And Potter’s caught the Snitch!” Mothers exclaimed loudly as the roar of the crowd could be heard in the booth. “That makes the final score three hundred and seventy to one hundred and seventy. Puddlemere wins!”

The Weasleys cheered along with the crowd.

“I’m glad we’re betting men!” George high fived his twin.

Ginny reclaimed her seat, listening to the after-game report. Bill, who had left the room after the winner was announced, came back in with two new bottles of Butterbeer. He walked over to Ginny and handed her one. Bill waited until she had accepted the drink and taken a large gulp to ask, “So, you and Potter on a first-name basis, then?”

Ginny had always hated Bill’s know-it-all smile, but she’d never hated it worse than she did right now.

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“It was the most incredible feeling in the world.” Harry continued to stare up at the horizon, his arms encircling Ginny as he sat behind her. The sun was barely visible around the many buildings as he and Ginny sat on his flat roof. They had stayed up the entire night, and Ginny had met the team in their choice pub. Then, once they had tired of the party atmosphere, Harry and Ginny had moved back to his flat with their own celebratory event.

They had dozed for a few hours, but both had woken before the sun, so Harry had Appartated them to the roof in order to watch the sun replace the moon.

“I can bet.” Ginny’s head rested on his chest, right over his heart. She took a sip from her pumpkin juice (Harry’s choice of drink at five in the morning). “You must have felt like you were flying, almost like you were without your broom.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed. “How do you think you’ll feel when you score your first goal?”

Ginny pondered his question for a moment. “I’m guessing the same way you felt.”

Harry smiled. He couldn’t wait for Ginny to have her shot.

“Though, I’ll get more than one chance per game,” she added. “Just another reason why Chasing is better.” She was never one to let a sentimental moment rest, his Ginny.

Harry let out a little indignant laugh through his nose, one that ruffled her hair. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Darling.”

“That would be nice sheets and a heavenly workout, courtesy of a little-known Seeker.”

“Oh, so you admit Seekers are best at something.”

“I never said that,” Ginny protested, turning her neck so she could look Harry in the eye. “But yes, this Seeker has some skills.” Harry was about to close the small gap between their lips, but Ginny quickly added. “Though, it could just be because of his incredible teammate. I am rather talented in all fields.”

Harry kissed her, not caring that they were on top of a roof where anyone could see them, or where they could fall down painfully onto their arses. All he cared about was her, the way her lips felt on his, how her strong arms wrapped around his neck as she turned around on her knees for better access.

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How about we play a game?” Ginny suggested as the sun had reached a point of clear visibility.

“What game?” Harry knew that Ginny loved a good challenge, but if she suggested jumping off the roof to the ground…

“I call it: How would you feel?” She was facing him as they sat cross-legged from one another. “You gave me the idea earlier. We create a situation and ask how the other would feel or respond.”

“Alright. You go first.”

Ginny paused for a moment. “How would you feel if your parents decided to have another baby?”

“Where the fuck did that come from?” Harry asked, equal parts disgusted and shocked.

“I don’t know.” Ginny shrugged. “You’ve mentioned they’re still young, so…”

“I guess. I don’t know… fuck!” Harry ran a hand through his hair. “I mean it would be awesome to get a sibling, but it would I would be so much older than him or her.” He paused. “Hell, I’d probably have a kid before my sibling was ten. No, I’ll pass.”

“Fair. Alright, your turn.”

Harry gave himself a chance to think of a good question. Ginny had held nothing back, so why should he? “How would you feel if all your brothers walked in on us shagging?”

Ginny’s mouth fell open. “What the shit? That’s horrible. I would feel…” she paused, then started to laugh. “You know what… that would be similar to how Ron found out about me and Dean.”

“He walked in on you and Dean?”

“Snogging, yeah. Then he told the rest of cavalry.”

Harry started to laugh. They continued to come up with intense questions (If your family moved back to America without you, how would you feel? If your mother insisted you quit playing Quidditch, what would you do?). They stayed on the roof of Harry’s flat, letting the warming charm keep them content until the sun started to warm the air.

“Alright, Harry.” Ginny slid along the tile, placing herself in his personal space. She wrapped her arms around his neck. “How would you feel if I started to undress you right here and gave your neighbors a little show?”

“First of all.” Harry’s breathing had become labored. “It wouldn’t be a little show. Secondly, as long as I can remove your clothing, I have a feeling I’d be rather satisfied.” He kissed the base of her throat. “Though I would cast a Disillusionment Charm. They really don’t need the entertainment.”

Ginny laughed, which was his favorite sound. It was one he could have sworn would heal a dying man. He loved the way her laughter seemed to fill him with warmth.

“How would you feel,” Harry moved his mouth to her ear. He could feel the gooseflesh on her arms. “If I told you I love you?”

He had no idea what made him say it. There had been no connection between his brain and his mouth. It was as if his heart had taken possession of his entire being.

Yet, he knew it was true, he’d just never said the words out loud. Not to himself, or her, but it was one hundred percent true. Still, people tended to wait longer, or at least based on his knowledge. He had only known Ginny Weasley for three months, but he was undeniably, beyond question, head over heels for her.

Ginny’s breath sucked in with the sharpness of a knife. Harry for his part, could barely breathe. “It’s just something that I wanted to tell you.” Though he had tried to play it off as sauve as his traitorous mouth would allow, his mind had another take on the situation, constantly repeating, tell me that you love me too, please.

If he had thought he was nervous before the game today… that was nothing compared to this. He waited for Ginny to speak, his heart trying to beat out of his chest.

Ginny pulled back from him. The better to see my heart break into a million pieces. Harry’s over dramatic side was coming out again.

She moved a hand to his face, cupping his cheek. “I love you, too.”

Harry’s breath came out in a shaky manner. “Yeah?” To his own ears he sounded like a lovesick boy, but he couldn’t help it. The woman he was in love with loved him back.

“Of course.” Ginny kissed him quickly, but with definite passion. “I thought I was obvious.”

“This.” Harry reconnected their lips again. “Is the best feeling in the world. Forget winning a Quidditch game.”

Ginny’s smile matched the sun, blindly bright. “We’re going to become one of those couples who never hang up on the Floo, aren’t we? No you disconnect first. No you. Next we’ll become all poetic and shit.”

“Her hair as vivid as the setting sun -” Harry exaggeratedly recited.

But he happily stopped his performance as Ginny silenced him in an extremely effective manner.
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