Title: Particularly Happy
Author: pauraque
Pairing: Harry/Ginny
Rating: NC-17
Kinks/Themes Chosen: adolescentism, impotence
Other Content: Outdoor sex, virginity roleplay
Word Count: ~2000
Summary: Harry and Ginny revisit an old haunt and rewrite history.
Author's Notes: This is my first post here, yay! Thanks to the mods for inviting me, and thanks to Hannelore for proofreading and for many spirited discussions about exactly what was supposed to have happened by the lake during that particularly happy hour. ;)



"I feel a bit guilty," Harry admits as the doors of Hogwarts fall closed behind them. "Minerva looked like she could have used a break, too, but she can't exactly slip away unnoticed from her own retirement banquet."

Ginny squeezes his hand with a smile. "I don't think she's much for being the centre of attention."

Harry nods in wry sympathy. The late spring air and the sudden quiet have already begun to soothe his headache, brought on by the din of too many generations of students crammed into the Great Hall to share memories and farewells.

Hand in hand, they walk through the courtyard, over the same well-worn stones they first trod on so many years before. The shrubberies in the stone planters on either side are different now, taller, and with large red flowers that Harry's never seen before. When the afternoon sun slants through the clouds, their petals shimmer with the hint of gold.

"Neville's going to be brilliant as Headmaster," Ginny comments, as though reading Harry's thoughts. Coming to a stop before the planters, she reaches out and gently takes one of the blossoms by her fingertips, shutting her eyes as she breathes in its scent. Harry's breath catches in his throat — she is so beautiful just then, the silver of her hair in the wan sunlight, and her face at such peace.

They walk down to the lake, slowly. Harry finds that the way down the hill feels steeper to his knees now. But the school grounds are just as they ever were, the grass broken in all the same places by grey stone, and the lake still as a mirror. The laughing croak of a rain goose echoes from somewhere out on the flats, and for a hazy moment Harry feels like he's just woken up from a decades-long dream and found himself back in school again. Before the fear and the pain, when Hogwarts was safe and full of wonder.

Pressing up beside him and sliding her arm round his waist, Ginny points down, directing his gaze to the deep blue-grey lake water at their feet. Their reflections peer back at them, broken by the occasional kiss of a minnow at the surface. Ginny draws her wand and casts a charm, and in a ripple their reflections change. Their faces grow smoother, Harry's hair darkens and Ginny's reddens, until they look like teenagers again.

Harry turns to her with a grin. Her smiling face hasn't changed; the spell was cast only on their reflections. They still look like themselves. Seasoned, as Ginny likes to say.

She moves a few steps off and places her hand on the trunk of a black alder tree. Turns to him, eyes shining with the light of nostalgia, and says, "Do you remember this place?"

"Yeah," he says, blushing a little as she takes his hand to draw him closer.

"It was the first time you touched me," she murmurs, bringing his hand to her breast, over her jumper. She closes her eyes, as if pleasantly lost in the memory. Impulsively, he cups her other breast too, and kisses her. She hums in surprise, pressing warmly against him in the stillness, her hands over both of his.

Breaking away from him with a sly Cheshire smile, she lowers herself down to sit against the tree, and brings him with her, supporting his weight for a moment so he doesn't have to go down on his knees. They kiss again there, seated on the tree roots, just as they did on that long-ago afternoon. Above, the patchy clouds move slowly across the sun, and the light brightens and fades around them, again and again, as though the sky itself is breathing in and out.

When Harry reaches under her shirt, Ginny startles from the cold of his hand, and she grasps it in both of hers. They both grin as she rubs his skin warm in the fabric of her jumper, and then lets his hand loose. They kiss again, and his now not so chilly fingertips brush her nipple through her bra, feeling the tightness there.

Arching her back, she presses her cheek against his, and whispers, "It's my first time."

Harry takes a moment to register this, to adjust his mindset to hers. He's never thought of their games as roleplaying... more like telling stories to one another, playing out the scenes. This one is new, and a thought flits across his mind of how extraordinary it is to find new things after all this time, and how stupidly lucky he is.

"It's okay," he says, shifting his voice a little to sound younger, less certain. "It's mine, too."

"Oh, Harry," she breathes, half play-relief and half real excitement, wrapping her arms round him and squeezing him tight. She kisses him frantically and a bit awkwardly — not so that it's truly uncomfortable, but just the suggestion of it, like when she used to bump against his glasses.

His hands under the back of her jumper as they kiss, Harry pretends to fumble with the clasp of her bra until she sits back and does it for him, face flushed and grinning. Sometimes Harry thinks she missed her calling as an actress. A subtle change in the way she moves, a little bouncier, more free, and it's suddenly so easy to see her as just a girl again, and himself as just a boy.

And it's turning him on. With a twist of her arms she somehow pulls her bra out of her sleeve (one of those mysteries boys will never understand), and when the tent starts forming in his trousers, he turns it into part of the game, trying to cover it with his hands and playing at embarrassment.

Ginny claps her hands to her mouth, stifling an exaggerated giggle that wrinkles her nose. "I guess you really liked that, huh?"

"Um, I guess," he breathes, finding it surprisingly easy to tap into the memory of being a stammering teenager, terrified of girls.

"I've got something I reckon you'll like even better," she says, and with a teasing sway of her hips she pulls off her jumper and shirt at once, exposing her breasts and stiff pink nipples to the air.

For a moment Harry suspects Legilimency and his blush is all too real — he used to dream of seeing a girl do that, when he was just a kid and could barely even imagine anything more. She gently pushes him to the ground, on his back in the grass, and again they're snogging, Harry touching her tentatively, tasting the remembered fear of doing the wrong thing. The memory of that fear is something he can control now, like a spice to be added just as much or as little as he desires.

"I'm so ready, Harry," she whispers, pressing her hips against him. "I want my first time to be with you."

"A- Are you sure?" Harry asks, holding her by the shoulders, thrilling himself again with that fear — what if she changes her mind?

"God, yes," she hisses, frantically unbuttoning his shirt. "I've wanted this since third year."

Those words out of her mouth are like an electric shock coursing down his spine, and he groans as he feels the cool lake breeze on his chest, and then on his legs as she pulls his trousers down. As she takes off her own skirt and knickers, she makes a show of looking round furtively, as though a teacher might turn up any second and get them in trouble.

Straddling his thighs, she caresses his prick gently. He's gone soft now, but that's no matter — perhaps another day. And in the meanwhile this is still so good, their mutual fantasy so delicious.

"Ooh, yes, Harry," she croons, and it might sound silly if it weren't driving him out of his mind. "I want you to do it. I want you to take my virginity."

"God, your hands," he groans, eyes rolling up to the sky, now a darkening grey. What he's feeling is not so much her hands right now as it is her hands then — the first time. "I- I don't want to hurt you."

She shudders, eyes closed, then shakes her head vigourously. "You won't. I broke it already, one day when I was stretching before Quidditch..."

The breath of a laugh almost slips from his rapidly rising and falling chest; not laughing at her, but in the joy of her, how brilliant she is, how easy she makes this. Always has. "Do it," he says to her. "It's okay, I won't tell anybody."

As though she couldn't have waited a moment longer, she scrambles up onto her knees over him, lifts herself up and then lowers down slowly, settling herself onto his hips with a gasp and a sigh, pressing the heel of her hand hard against her sex. He strokes himself lightly as he watches her mime the loss of her virginity, and just the thought being inside her for the first time is better than any reality could ever be.

"Oh God, Harry, it's- it's better than I ever thought," she gasps, rubbing herself as she rocks back and forth, her hand braced in the grass by his shoulder. He moves his body along with hers, grasping her thighs and arching up into her, lost in her. Her face is flushed with both heat and cold, hair blowing in the breeze and gooseflesh popping up on her breasts as she rewrites history in their bodies and minds, making their first time more than it ever could have really been.

The clouds above have slowly been turning an ominous slate, and just as the thought begins to form in Harry's mind, it starts to happen — tiny little droplets at first, shivery on his chest and blurring his glasses.

Ginny either doesn't notice or doesn't care, stroking herself faster now, thighs tensing, biting her lower lip. Heavier drops are falling through the tree's branches, splattering onto Ginny's arched back and the earth around them. Harry holds her hips as the sky opens and her words unravel into fragments and moans, the ground slipping into mud beneath them. Wanted this for so long... My first time... First time I've felt a boy inside me...

He can feel the tension gathering in Ginny's body as the rain damps down her hair, rolls off her shoulders and down her arms, and the sound of water pouring into the lake just a few feet away almost drowns out her cries as she comes, shaking above him, neck straining and eyes shut tight.

When she is finished, she clambers slowly off him, no longer playing at youth, and lets herself roll onto her back beside him in the mud. Harry can't help it — he busts up laughing, and she is laughing too, and they grasp for one another as the rain keeps pouring down.

"Oh Harry, I'm sorry," she giggles. "I just couldn't stop."

"Don't worry," he says, cupping his hand over his eyes, trying uselessly to protect his already smeared glasses. "This is what drying charms are for."

"It was worth it," she declares, stretching out her legs and squelching her bare feet defiantly in the muck at the lake's edge, letting herself get rained on. "God, it was like the whole world came."

In the end it takes several drying charms and a Scourgify or two to get themselves and their clothes dry and presentable enough to make their way back up to the school. They take a switchback route up the hill, to be easier on Harry's knees. Hand in hand they walk, beneath an umbrella charm cast by Ginny's upheld wand, seeing the rainy world through a dome of rosy, rainbow-stained glass.