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SIYE Time:6:06 on 19th March 2024
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Lost
By PFaucheur

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Category: Alternate Universe
Characters:Harry/Ginny
Genres: Angst, General
Warnings: Sexual Situations
Story is Complete
Rating: R
Reviews: 16
Summary: Harry and Ginny spend a night together.
Hitcount: Story Total: 6818







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Author's Note: The story is complete, this is the end, a 500 word ficlet, that's all. All credit for the characters goes to JK Rowling as they are her property. As you can obviously tell, I am not her. (le fin)


You’re lost. You’d better get yourself found.

They were bad together. they were worse apart

He smelled of three days without a shower, of sweet summer air, of the soil embedded under his fingernails. Of Honeydukes, of butterbeer. He smelled of rain, and of honeysuckle. All of the odors mingling together to provide the unmistakable scent of him, and the perfume that would coat her sheets for many days after him. It wasn’t saying goodbye that killed her, it was washing him off of her clothes, and body. Bidding farewell to his scent, even after he was gone.

Because “goodbye” can still mean, “I love you.” But having to wash someone out of your life is the worst kind of farewell.

Her breathing was heavy, and labored. The unbearable heat in their moments together was being forced to the surface, her small, high, breasts ached, her cheeks were flushed crimson, her legs were slick with sweat. She was hot.

His body fell heavily upon her, his lips pressed fiercely against her own. Beads of perspiration on his upper lip slid down into their kisses and were devoured by their hungry mouths. He threw all of his force into kissing her, every angry memory became part of her as she fought him, countering his strength with her own. He gnashed his teeth and ran his tongue over the soft pink flesh of her lips. She responded by biting his lower lip, the rusty tang of metal coated her tongue, but it didn’t matter.

“Nothing matters now.” He said.

Her only response was to pull him closer, to feel his body clinging to her with sweat. She tasted his skin, dragging her tongue along his collarbone. She felt the ache in the moment, a second in time when they were both weak enough to want to erase the past, weak enough to forget.

That’s what it was: a forgetting kiss, a lose-yourself kiss, a bleeding, bruising, swollen kiss. And soon, it would end, all come crashing down when their sense returned and that night would have to be forgotten. Another thing to regret, another memory to lose, another pain to numb.

His kisses were growing more and more insistent, his hands less delicate and tender. It wasn’t about romance, he did not kiss her now to comfort her. He kissed her now in a desperate, last attempt to make some sense of anything, he kissed her now to flood her body with his anger, his doubt, his fear. His touch burned her skin, leaving angry red marks where his fingers pressed too deeply, pain, pleasure, what difference did it make? The line between the two became so nearly indistinguishable that whether her whimpers were of encouragement or not, it affected nothing.

But, it had not been she who cried then. She may have yelled, but it was he who submitted to her whims, he who ran out of strength to support them both. It was Ginny Weasley who led, and Harry Potter, who followed.

When it was over, when the morning came, and they looked at each other with startled eyes, when they could no longer remember what exactly had transpired, or perhaps they were unwilling to remember. Her brown eyes, clouded with the uncertainty of the previous night, and what was to come, met his troubled green ones:

“We matter now.”
Reviews 16
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