wl_mods (wl_mods) wrote in wizard_love, @ 2009-02-07 12:56:00 |
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Entry tags: | *fic, ginny, harry |
Special Delivery For: deadwoodpecker
Title: Harry’s Bad Week
Author: dragyn_42
Recipient's IJ/LJ name: deadwoodpecker
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Harry/Ginny, Neville/Hannah, Ron/Hermione, Bill/Fleur
Word Count: ~7320
Summary: Ginny is gone for two weeks and Harry is stuck at work. Can things get any worse?
Authors notes: Wow, I read your special elements and pairings and this whole thing just unfolded like a script. It’s a bit longer than I expected, each scene grew all by itself. However, I hope I got it all to your satisfaction :)
Harry had been having a desperately bad week. Ginny was away for two consecutive weekend games with the Harpies. The team had left the previous Thursday for the first game on Saturday, and the staff had decided they would stay over the intervening week and use it as a training camp. Team rules stated that, barring acceptable circumstances, all team members were required to stay with the team during training camps. For married couples, spouses and children were always allowed to stay with their espoused team members during in-season camps.
Unfortunately, that lead to Harry’s second problem: he was an on-call Auror this week. Auror Corps regulations provided that all on-call Aurors had to stay within certain known locations. Harry had argued it as stupid – after all, they had Apparition, Floo networks and Portkeys that would allow Aurors to arrive. There were Messenger Patronuses, magical mirrors and, once again, Floo networks to contact on-call Aurors to let them know they were needed.
Kingsley had agreed with him wholeheartedly, but the current Head of the MLE was an old school Auror name MacDonald who was pulled out of retirement after the War and they had yet to get him to go back. The old geezer’s reluctance to induce change in a system that “...worked darn well for as long as I’ve ever been an Auror,” left Harry stuck in London, unable to get time off to go with his wife.
The third problem was that Harry’s on-call assignment coincided with a relatively low crime-rate period. While Harry wished that he were out doing something, instead, he showed up for work every morning, went to the daily briefing, finished up various bits of paperwork and was let of early with orders of ‘go have fun.’
If only I could, he wished. Most of his friends were working all day leaving him with no one to ‘have fun’ with. He ended up home each night, missing Ginny horribly. The past couple nights, he even resorted to masturbating in the shower. He would remember the morning Ginny left. She had woken him up with her mouth around him, doing things to him that he had never known were possible until they had discovered them together early in their relationship.
After Ginny had been sure he was awake, she informed him that since they would be apart for the next week and a half, she needed to make sure she had everything she could, and that the previous evening may not have been enough. In his mind, Harry pictured her lying under him, writhing in ecstasy after he had rolled himself on top of her and entered her. Ginny had a very quick trigger – something else they discovered early in the relationship – but that morning she seemed exceptionally ready.
The memory of the look on her face was all he needed as his hand moved quickly over his hard cock, the water and soap providing lubrication for his furious movements. He came over the wall of the shower, breathing heavily. This activity helped alleviate some of his frustration the first night he did it. The next night, it helped also, but only a little. After that, it only seemed to leave him more frustrated and even more lonely for Ginny.
Friday afternoons, Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione had standing invitations to join Neville and Hannah at the Leaky Cauldron for lunch. They didn’t always make it, it was a weekday after all, and lunch hours were often non-existent in each of their lines of work. However, Harry had stopped by for a drink nearly every day this week when he was released from his paperwork and had promised Hannah that he would be there for lunch.
And so, today, after waking up, missing Ginny, going to work and listening to a debriefing, he was released early and told to take his weekend, although he was reminded once more about the protocols for being on-call, to which he wanted to punch the Director. He wandered around London for a bit – he found it a great place to get away from everything without being recognized for a chance to think – and spent most of his time missing Ginny. As much as his work often kept him from his wife, he was miserable that this week it wouldn't even help him keep away from missing his wife.
With lunch approaching and nothing else to do, he made his way to the Leaky Cauldron for lunch. Upon entering, one of the afternoon barmaids saw him and motioned him towards the back storeroom. There was a desk back there that Hannah used to do the till, and Neville often spent his spare time back there helping her with the stock. Since it wasn’t the lunch rush yet, it didn’t surprise Harry in the least that they were both back there, he and Ginny often met the other couple back there to talk before coming back out for food.
Harry slipped through the door located between the fireplace and the bar, and the first thing he noticed was that Hannah was not at her desk which was located right by the door. He made his way around the stock shelves, and it wasn’t until he neared the back that he heard voices. He could tell Neville was saying something quietly to his wife, but he couldn’t tell what.
When he came around the last shelf, he stopped in his track. Neville was leaning back against against the stocking table – the small square table he used to repack boxes – with his robes hanging open and his trousers down around his ankles. And, kneeling in front of his, was his wife, one hand against his thigh, the other grasping the base of his manhood, her mouth engulfing the rest.
“Ohhhh. Oh yes, that’s great. Yesssss....” moaned Neville.
Startled, Harry knew he should have turned around and left, but his feet seemed glued to the floor. His frustration of the past several days crept back up on him, and his body responded with a tightening of his own trousers. Hannah, though not Harry’s ideal – Ginny was everything he could ever want – was still quite attractive in Harry’s opinion.
He watched as her lips, puffed out and rounded around their goal, moved over skin, leaving a gleaming trail. Her hand pumped up and down, varying the speed of its motions. Neville had stopped uttering words and began moaning, but Harry tuned him out. He really didn’t need to think of one of his mates in this position. But Hannah, watching her brought his need for Ginny forward, making him ache with desire that it was Ginny doing this for him.
Hannah’s motions sped up, her cheeks becoming concave as she increased the pressure she provided with her mouth. Her eyes, which had been closed, now opened and looked upwards at her lover. The timing was obvious as Neville suddenly yelled out. Hannah stopped moving her mouth over Neville, but her hand continued its motions, though at a much slower rate.
Finally, Harry’s feet came loose from the floor. He turned around and slipped away as quietly as he could. Back in the bar, he noticed that the lunch crowd was slowly picking up. While most people did him the favor of leaving him alone in the Leaky Cauldron – Hannah had made it clear in the past that patrons were not to bother her more noteworthy customers – he no longer felt like staying. The embarrassment of what he had just witnessed and his intense loneliness drove him to leave, maybe find a Muggle café for lunch.
He slipped out the front of the bar and, as he turned the corner, almost walked directly into Fleur. That Fleur was in Muggle London didn’t really surprise him, he knew she went there to shop all the time. She claimed that it was cheaper to get French food ingredients and clothing there.
She looked really good in her Muggle attire: tight fitting blue jeans, a diaphanous, white, button-down blouse and high heeled black boots. In his current state, she struck a chord inside him, once more bringing Ginny to mind in a similar outfit – though Ginny preferred more form fitting tops. As usual, her Veela allure had very little effect on him, a trait Fleur very much enjoyed when talking to him.
“’Arry! Such a surprise seeing you ’ere,” she greeted him. Over the years, her accent had certainly improved, though they still had trouble getting her to pronounce her ‘H’s. “’Ow ’ave you been?”
“Fine,” he said.
“Oh, come now,” she berated him. “Do you really expect me to believe that? We, your family, know you too well.”
Harry snorted in response. “Really, I’m fine. Just a bit, I don’t know, lonely. I really wish Ginny would get back.”
“Ah. So terrible when the ones we love are away, yes? Ginny does not return until Sunday night?” At Harry’s rueful nod, she asked, “’Ow about dinner tomorrow? Mmm? Guillaume and I ‘ave plans tonight – a French play I ‘ave been trying to get ‘eem to see for months – but tomorrow. We can have dinner then, oui?”
Harry didn’t need much thought to decide it was a good idea, “Sounds good. What time?”
“Five in the evening? We can start with drinks before dinner. I will prepare a sumptuous meal to help you take your mind off your lovely Guenevere.”
Harry snorted once more. He was well aware of how Ginny felt about her name, and it annoyed her to no end when Fleur referred to it in the “...proper French.” After several arguments, Fleur stopped doing it in front of Ginny, but apparently that didn’t mean she stopped doing it altogether.
“Five sounds good. I’ll see you then,” agreed Harry.
“Au revoir, ’Arry,” said the silvery blond as she went into the Leaky Cauldron.
He watched her walk into the Leaky Cauldron before he continued moping around Muggle London. He told himself repeatedly that Ginny would be home in only two more days and that he needed to stop feeling sorry for himself. He passed a small little bistro he and Ginny had eaten at several times before and realized that his quick exit from his friends’ establishment had caused him to miss lunch.
Walking into the bistro, he was quickly seated and handed a menu. He already knew what he was going to order – it was meatloaf sandwich and chips that he fell in love with previously – and hoped a little people-watching would take his mind off things. It worked for a while. His food came and he relaxed himself observing the patrons of the shop.
There were groups of co-workers and friends, mostly laughing. One group looked a bit grim and they weren’t speaking much. The waitress brought out his food and while he ate, he continued watching. There was a family sitting over in the corner whose little girl could have been Ginny at a young age. He tried to move quickly from that train of thought when his eyes caught a couple in the corner. They were kissing – snogging really – and except for Harry’s angle, probably not very visible from the rest of the diner.
He tried to look away, he really did, but he very much wanted that couple to be him and his wife. They stopped kissing in short order, but their hands appeared to be in constant movement under the table if the motion of their arms was any indication. He saw the girl gasp and bury her head in her boyfriend’s shoulder. Harry couldn’t take any more, so he tossed some money onto the table next to his mostly empty plate and left.
Passing by a small general store, he saw a digital clock on display in the window. It was later than he thought. Then he realized that, being Friday, Hermione was probably home a bit early. Finally, with a friend around to talk to and take his mind off of Ginny, he found the nearest dark alley he could, and ducked in to Apparate.
Appearing at Ron and Hermione’s house, he knocked on the door. It was answered in short order by his longtime female friend.
“Harry! What are you doing here? Is everything okay?”
“I’m fine. Just wanted someone to talk to.”
Hermione studied him with her critical eye. Harry hated it when she did that. I made him feel as if he were some type of logic puzzle, a game just for his friend. Unfortunately, his friend knew him too well.
“You aren’t fine, but that’s okay. It’s Ginny, isn’t it?” It was more of a statement than a question.
Harry sighed before answering, “Yeah. I dunno, Hermione. I just... I miss her. I was hoping you could help...”
“It’s not like this is the longest she’s been gone before, Harry,” stated Hermione, as if Harry were being silly.
“I’ve had nothing to do all week! They keep kicking me out of the office early, and with everyone else working, what am I supposed to do? I just keep thinking of her,” he said pitifully.
Hermione’s gaze softened and she stepped back, inviting Harry in. “Oh, I didn’t realize. I’m sorry. Of course, come on in. We’ll have some drinks and talk.”
As only a good friend could, Hermione did indeed keep Harry involved in discussion and allowed him a respite from his loneliness. They had gone through nearly two bottles of wine and were laughing like madmen on the sofa when Ron arrived home. He came in the room, robes in hand, took one look at the two of them, and left down the hallway, muttering and shaking his head. This only caused Harry and Hermione to laugh even harder.
It took a little time, but the duo eventually calmed down and made their way to the kitchen. Hermione wasn’t the best cook – though she had certainly improved since their time on the run together – and Harry was pretty good in the kitchen from his upbringing. Together, they put together a passable meal of roast chicken, rice and vegetables.
Ron joined them as soon as the food hit the table, and the trio talked over dinner as only the best of friends could. Between them, they drank another two and half bottles of wine as they reminisced of school days and talked of their work. After dinner, Hermione pulled out some ice cream from the freezer and they continued their evening in the living room.
Eventually, Harry began succumbing to the effects of the wine and began dozing on the sofa.
“Harry, why don’t you just stay here? Okay?” asked Hermione.
Harry, deciding that his bed would only remind him of Ginny, not mention he was tired and not in the best condition to travel by any means, nodded his agreement. Hermione grabbed a blanket from a chest by the wall, handed it to Harry, and she and Ron disappeared down the hall. Harry fell asleep soon after.
He started awake, his eyes glazed as he was not yet completely un-asleep. His mind was still trying to cling to his dream. Ginny had been wearing her Quidditch robes, except they were sheer. And she wasn’t wearing anything under them. She floated over to him on her broom, handing him a bottle of wine corked with a snitch.
“C’mon, Harry. A little wine to relax? Then we can play Quidditch.”
He had snatched the snitch off and taken a swig straight from the bottle. He offered back to his scantily clad, chaser girl. She took a drink of her own, then she pushed Harry back onto the bed. Her hands were all over him, stroking him just way he liked. She grabbed his cock in one hand and cupped underneath with the other. Her mouth was kissing along his chest, stopping to nip and suck at his nipples.
She slowly slid up his body, kissing up his neck, her nails ever so lightly grazing up his shaft. Her own legs straddled his, and her wetness left its warm, slick trail up his leg. Finally, she had aligned herself over him. He knew, without a doubt, that he wouldn’t last. He was going to come the instant he entered her. He could feel her heat against him, the wetness just against his tip. Ginny moaned, and as she began her descent, he awoke.
He clung to the vision with everything he had. He needed this release, needed it to be with Ginny. But it was no use. The dream was gone, and if he came, it would be by himself, and he knew there would be no satisfaction.
Sighing, he swing his legs off the sofa, taking a moment to remember he was at Ron and Hermione’s. Besides the discomfort of his erection, he realized he had to go to the bathroom – all that wine was apparently making its way through him. So, he stood and head down the hall.
When he was done in the bathroom, he debated going back to the sofa or making use of his friends’ fireplace. It was then that a sound from the door across the hall from the bathroom interrupted his pondering. It was Ron and Hermione’s bedroom, he knew this. He knew he shouldn’t look through the slightly ajar door, but his Auror instincts, combined with the fact that he was still not completely awake, caused him to do so anyway.
Hermione was straddling atop Ron. There were things he didn’t need to know about his best friends, but in his current state of mind, he did have to admit that Hermione was attractive naked. He glanced down and saw that Ron was currently inside his wife. As Hermione moved herself up and down on her husband, his cock sliding in and out, Harry’s dream overlaid his vision.
Ginny had been on top of him. She had been about to do this very same thing. He watched as Hermione rode Ron, up and down, in and out, and in his mind, it was Ginny on himself. His hand went into the front of his trousers – he hadn’t undressed before falling asleep – and he grasped himself. The scene in front of him and the picture in his mind caused his hand to start moving in synchronicity.
Hermione was moaning, louder and louder, panting with her effort. He heard Ginny doing the same thing. Suddenly, just as Ginny squealed, though he didn’t know if Hermione had, he came. His slick, stickiness covered the inside of his boxers. He took several moments to catch his breath, before Hermione’s continuing moans brought him to reality and he realized what he had just done.
He quickly, but quietly, made his way back to the sofa where he picked up his wand, and then he grabbed some Floo Powder from the jar on the mantle, threw it into the fire, and left.
The next morning, he woke up a bit more relaxed than he had the previous mornings. He figured that it was his little session last night with Ginny in mind, but the view that instigated it caused him a little bit of guilt. He shouldn’t have watched. But he did feel a bit better...
While he puttered around his kitchen putting together breakfast in nothing but boxers, a -shirt and a dressing robe, he heard Hannah’s voice from his living room.
“Harry? Are you there?”
He pulled his pan off the burner and wandered into the next room, seeing Hannah’s head in his fireplace. “Yeah, I’m here. What’s up?”
“Neville and I just wanted to make sure you were okay. You seemed pretty sure you were going to show up for lunch yesterday, and Carol remembers seeing you come in, but we couldn’t find you.”
“Oh!” he said, blushing briefly. He was thankful that viewing someone through a fireplace was notoriously fuzzy. “Yeah, I peeked in and didn’t see you at the desk, so I figured you were probably busy in the back and left.” He felt a little bad for the tiny omission.
There was a pause before Hannah responded, “We were in the back, but were out shortly. We were waiting for you when Carol told us you had already been in.”
“Sorry about that. I just figured, you know, if you were busy...”
“No, that’s okay. But Neville and I were looking forward to talking with you. We know Ginny’s been gone for a while and figured you could use the company.”
“That’s, yeah, I guess I could,” said Harry, reluctantly. Though he realized it was just bad luck with everyone else busy at work but him, he was getting a little upset at it all away.
“How about today? Twelve o’clock?” inquired Hannah.
“Sure, sounds great.”
“Good! We’ll make sure we’re not busy this time,” she smiled. “See you later.”
Her head disappeared and just as he turned to get back to his breakfast, he heard his fireplace flare up. Turning around, it was now Hermione’s face in the fire.
“Hermione? Is something wrong?” he asked.
“Oh! Good. No, nothing’s wrong,” she said, all traces of the previous concern in her voice disappearing. “You weren’t on the sofa this morning. We just wanted to make sure you got home okay.”
“Yeah. I woke up in the middle of the night. I, uh, I had thought the sofa would be better than thinking of Ginny in bed, but it really wasn’t.”
“I guess that’s understandable. It’s only a sofa, after all.” She seemed to be staring at him, though he didn’t know how closely she could. Views through a fireplace were notoriously fuzzy. But she seemed to see something, because she asked, “Are you sure you’re okay, Harry?”
Quickly pushing all thoughts of the last night out of his head, he said, “Er, yeah. I’m fine. I just... I don’t like waking up without Ginny, and it’s been two weeks.”
“She’ll be home in two days, you just need to go out and do something.”
“I know. I have plans for today, so I’ll be okay.”
“Alright. If you need something, just ask.”
“Can you come up with a spell to force MacDonald to retire again?”
Hermione laughed, she knew all about Harry’s problems with the head of the Aurors’ policies. “I’ll talk to you later, okay, Harry?”
“Sure.”
After Hermione disappeared, he waited a moment to make sure no one else was showing up in his fireplace. When no one did, he went back to the kitchen, tossed his now now cold, half cooked breakfast. He looked at the clock on the wall and realized it was later than he thought. With only two hours until he met with Hannah and Neville at the Leaky Cauldron, he grabbed some toast, butter and juice, ate while glancing at his paper and finally went to shower and get dressed.
Taking his time getting ready, he still had an hour before lunch, so he took a quick trip to his office to make sure nothing had come up. He almost hoped something happened, but there was nothing waiting for him in his parchment tray besides a few reports that needed his signature. He glanced over the reports, signed the ones that didn’t need his full attention and set them ready to be delivered.
Deciding that there was nothing more for him to do without being late, he went to the Atrium and used the Floo System there to go directly to the Leaky Cauldron.
He was a little surprised that for the second day in a row, and on a Saturday no less, the dinning room of the Leaky Cauldron was nearly empty. He was a bit early, by about ten minutes or so, and was picking out a table in the corner when he heard a muffled scream from up the stairs as he was passing them.
Always the Auror, he cast a spell to quiet his walking and made his way up the stairs. He heard another scream at the top landing, louder now that he was closer. Walking down the hall, wand at the ready, he heard moan through an open door just as he looked in.
Oh no, not again.
Inside the room, on the edge bed, was Hannah, her legs spread wide and hanging over the end. Kneeling in front of her was her husband, his head at the cleft of her legs, moving in some very irregular ways. Hannah screamed again. The angle she was lying at meant that Harry couldn’t see much of anything except for brief moments when Neville’s head moved just so.
Harry argued with himself. He knew he didn’t want to watch this. He really didn’t. These were two of his good friends, and he didn’t need to see them do this. It was invasive and rude. But he couldn’t make himself look away.
He remembered doing this to Ginny quite often. He loved her taste – tangy and just a little bit sweet. She was sensitive there. He could keep her orgasming for entire stretches at a time if he really wanted to. His best so far was twenty minutes straight before she pushed him away, complaining that she was too sensitive, too sore and way too tired to continue. He was very proud of that evening.
Hannah screamed once more, Harry came out of his memories and looked again at her. He saw Neville move slightly up to focus on her clit, giving Harry a near perfect view of Hannah’s red, slick quim, her juices running out and pooling under her. Neville then pushed a finger in, causing Hannah to moan louder.
With an extreme amount of self control, Harry finally forced his feet to move. As he turned away, he saw Neville add two more fingers as his lips closed over Hannah’s clit. Afraid that Hannah’s screech might bring people from downstairs, he flicked his wand at the door and cast a fading silence spell – an Auror specialty spell that faded by itself over time, leaving no trace behind. He figured it would help prevent embarrassment on all their parts.
He slipped back down to the dinning room unnoticed. Deciding that he needed a little help if he was to stay and talk to his friends, he went to the bar, grabbed a bottle of Firewhiskey and a couple glasses. One of the serving girls noticed and was about to yell at him before she recognized Harry. He was a regular, a friend of the owner, and was often given free access to the bar, so she instead grinned at him and winked.
Harry sat at a corner table, poured himself a glass and pondered his poor luck the past several days. He couldn’t understand why, now that he didn’t have Ginny around, he kept walking in on these situations. He also berated himself for his seeming inability to walk away. He downed his glass and poured another; he really wanted Ginny home.
At twelve o’clock, Hannah and Neville came calmly down the stairs, looking for all the world as if they had not been carnally intimate only minutes before. In fact, if Harry didn’t know better, he would have assumed they were just coming from checking on the rooms – something he knew Hannah liked to do to maintain cleanliness. Now, however, he wondered how often she and her husband actually checked the rooms.
His friends saw him and came over the to sit at the table. Hannah leaned over and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.
“Harry!” she greeted. “You’re early! How long have you been here?”
“Not long.” It wasn’t a complete lie, but what he followed it up with was. “I checked the back, but you weren’t there. Since you were so upset at me for missing yesterday, I figured you’d be here, so I grabbed a drink and waited.”
“Well, I’m glad you did, mate,” said Neville as he poured out two more drinks for him and his wife and topped off Harry’s. “We did miss you, yesterday.”
Harry noticed over his glass that Neville now looked a little red. He chuckled to himself. Neville was just the kind of bloke to be embarrassed that his friend was waiting while he and Hannah... Hannah, on the other hand, sipped her drink and smiled.
Lunch after that was actually quite pleasant and served to keep Harry distracted from his missing wife. Hannah must have noticed as she didn’t make any motions to get up and head back to work, something she often did when her establishment was busy. Harry was grateful. In no time at all, Harry realized it was it was nearing half three and he needed to be at Shell Cottage in an hour and a half.
He thanked Hannah and Neville for lunch and took the Leaky Cauldron’s fireplace back to his own flat. He knew Fleur didn’t expect him to bring anything, and Bill always gave him a hard time when he did, but between a vague lingering guilt from his upbringing and training from his wife that it was ‘the right thing to do,’ he quickly put together a cheese and cracker tray from supplies in their ice box.
Apparating to Shell Cottage, he knocked on the front door which was answered quickly by a stunning Fleur.
“‘Arry! Come in, come in,” she greeted. He handed her the tray as he stepped into the house and she said, “Oh, my, you did not need to bring anyt’ing. Eez this for dinner?”
Harry shook his head in the negative and she said, “Well then, let us put this on the coffee table. Come.”
She led him to the living room where she motioned him to sit on the sofa. She disappeared into the kitchen, reappearing a couple moments later with two bottles of wine – one white, one red – and two wine glasses. She placed the items on the coffee table next to Harry’s tray and then pulled the cover off the tray, revealing the cheese cubes and crackers.
Eying the tray oddly, she then looked questioningly at Harry.
“Is... Is something wrong, Fleur?”
“Hmm? No, no. Nothing eez wrong. I just do not normally have cheese. But with wine... This is your evening to forget it all. Come, let us drink, dinner will be a while.”
She poured out the wine and they noshed on cheese and talked. Harry liked talking with Fleur, especially without Bill around, she was always helpful in putting his problems into perspective. If Harry had an older sister, he would have wanted her to be like Fleur.
Over the course of their conversation, Fleur had left twice to check on dinner. Each time she left, Harry would have sworn that the sway in her hips was more pronounced, and each time she returned, she had another bottle of wine. They were mostly done their fourth bottle, the cheese was almost gone, Harry was very pleasantly happy, but Fleur kept giving him odd looks.
Each time he thought to ask her about it, his head got fuzzy and thoughts of Ginny filled his thoughts, causing a predictable reaction. He would then break away from asking her and would continue talking about whatever pointless topic they had drifted to at that moment.
Fleur stood up to again check on dinner – she was sure it would be ready by now – and wobbled slightly before finally leaving. The fireplace then flared green and Bill stepped out from it.
“Harry! Fleur told me yesterday you would be here for dinner. I didn’t expect you this early, though.”
“I, uh, I came by early. Fleur insisted we start with some wine,” replied Harry, grasping his brother-in-law’s hand.
“She did, did she?” There was only humor in his voice. He glanced around the room and lifted an eyebrow at the sight of the four empty wine bottles, and drew in a sharp breath when he saw the platter nearly empty of cheese. “Oh, no. Did she eat from the tray?”
“Yes?”
“Beel!” yelled Fleur, running to Bill and wrapping him in a hug.
“Harry, I’m so sorry about this. I’m going to need to talk to Fleur for a couple of minutes. Just hang out and we’ll be back out for dinner shortly.”
Harry gave a confused nod to Bill as he carried his wife out of the room in the opposite direction, back toward the bedrooms. Sighing, he wondered what would be so important to talk about with a guest over for dinner. There was no wine left and he didn’t really feel like more cheese, so he made his own way to the kitchen, hoping to help set up the table so that everything would be ready when the couple came back.
The kitchen table had an absolutely heavenly smelling roast setting in the middle with bowls of vegetables and even a salad, and there were plates out but no silverware. As Harry searched the drawers for the forks and knives, he heard a sound emanate from further back in the house. They couldn’t be, he thought. My luck cannot be that bad.
Unfortunately, it seemed that his luck was, indeed, that bad. Pretty soon, he could make out Fleur’s voice crying, “Beel. Beel! Yes! YES!” On and on it went, the volume increasing to incredible heights. Suddenly, the sound stopped and he realized that Bill must have cast a Silencing Charm.
Harry thought hard about leaving, going home, but it somehow seemed rude. Bill had promised they would be back soon, and he would feel supremely guilty that Fleur had made this meal for him and he wouldn’t be here to enjoy it. He found the silverware, finally, and laid it all out on the table, along with napkins and goblets he found in the cupboard. He was putting the finishing touches on the table with another bottle of wine and some juice he found in the icebox when a loud ‘thud’ sounded from the wall.
Another ‘thud’ followed, and Harry quickly realized what it was – Bill’s spell only quieted voices, not the sound of furniture banging against the wall. Harry sat at the table, his thoughts once more going to his missing wife, and the steady, drum-like pounding driving his resolution that if his boss ever put him in this situation again, he would kill the old coot, pure and simple.
Suddenly, there was silence. Harry looked up, wondering if perhaps they fell asleep after their session, but soon enough he heard the door open down the hall. Bill and Fleur entered the kitchen looking only slightly ruffled, though Bill was noticeably red in the face. Fleur, on the other hand, carried herself with her usual poise and grace.
“‘Arry! You did not ‘ave to set zee table. We were not gone that long.”
“It’s fine, really,” mumbled Harry, wondering if his decision to stay was a bad one. “It was no problem. It needed to be done and I didn’t mind doing it.”
“Well, thank you,” she replied graciously. “Now, seet, let us eat.”
The three adults sat at the table and Fleur doled out heaping portions of food to everyone. Bill quickly filled the silence.
“I have to apologize, Harry.”
“Nonsense,” said Fleur. “I do not affect ‘Arry that way.”
“You don’t think he heard us, dear? You don’t think he deserves to know?” he asked his wife who now looked slightly abashed. “Frankly, I was surprised to find him still here.
“See, Harry, Fleur has a slight, um... allergy to cheese.”
“Allergy?” asked Harry after he swallowed.
“Yes. We’re not sure if it’s a trait in all Veela, or just Fleur, but when she eats cheese with wine, she tends to loose a bit of control.”
Suddenly, everything made sense to Harry. The look when she saw the cheese, the fuzziness and thoughts of Ginny – not to mention his reaction to those thoughts – when he thought of asking Fleur, and finally, Bill’s insistent need to ‘talk’ to Fleur immediately upon arriving home.
“Oh,” was his intelligent response.
“Please, Harry,” said Bill. “Don’t worry about it. You didn’t know, and, as Fleur said, you are amazingly unaffected by her. It’s us who need to be asking your forgiveness.”
“Don’t, uh... Don’t worry about it,” decided Harry. If the couple noticed the blush in his cheeks when they mentioned his unaffectedness, they didn’t say anything. “Let’s just eat, this roast is wonderful, Fleur.”
“Merci!” she said.
Dinner was pleasant after that, if mildly uncomfortable. The situation was past and no one wanted to talk of it further. With a happy hug and a handshake to his brother- and sister-in-law, Harry left Shell Cottage not long after dinner.
When Harry finally made it back home, he realized that the pleasant evening of distraction that Fleur had planned was now anything but. In an almost delayed reaction, his thoughts were now full of Ginny, the sound of Fleur’s yells and the thumping of the bed. Fleur’s allure, or whatever it was, was bringing him near his breaking point. His need for Ginny now was stronger than it had been the entire week. The irony was not lost on him that Fleur’s intention was to help take his mind off of his absent wife. He wasn’t sure he would make it two more days.
He walked straight to his bathroom and pulled off his clothes, piling them in the corner. He turned the shower to cold, with just enough warm water to keep him from freezing, and stepped into the spray. His erection was almost painful, never before had it been like this, and the cold water was not helping. He grabbed himself, keeping Ginny firmly in mind.
Remembering once more the night before she left, imagining her naked form writhing under him, he was jolted from his fantasy by the sound of the bathroom door opening. He hesitated briefly, but there was no need to worry – only one other person on the planet could enter their flat without him knowing.
He heard the rustling of fabric, the dull thump of a pile hitting the floor. Her pale, freckled arm pulled the shower curtain aside, making way for the rest of her lithe, muscular body. Ginny stepped up to Harry, placing her hands on his chest, the contact eliciting a sigh from her husband.
“You might want to heat up the water a little,” she whispered at him. “I know that I don’t want to cool down now.”
“Wha...” croaked Harry. “What are you doing home.”
“Not glad to see me?” she teased.
“More than you know.”
Ginny trailed one hand down his torso, brushing his hand aside and replacing it with her own. Her other hand snaked up behind his head, pulling his forehead down to contact her own.
“There was a scare,” she explained. Her hand grasped Harry and began stroking. “Nothing serious, but we had to evacuate the hotel. After the first hour, I threatened Gwenog.”
Harry’s laugh came out strangled as his breath hitched with her motions.
“I told her the marrieds all had their spouses – all of them except me. And if she expected me to wait another hour to go back to a cold bed... She laughed at me.”
“She...?”
“Laughed. Yes. Then she told me to get out of there,” she finished placing a kiss on his lips. It was soft, pleasant and exactly what Harry didn’t need.
He put his hands on Ginny’s shoulders. He paused for a moment, relishing the feel of her soft skin, and then he shoved her back, out of the spray, and into the wall. He stepped with her, attached to her hand as he was, and covered her mouth his his own, kissing her desperately.
“Miss me?” asked Ginny when they separated briefly for air.
“You have no idea,” Harry growled back. His hands traveled from her shoulder, down the sides of her breasts, around her waist where he then grabbed her ass, squeezing as he did. “I’ve needed this, you, all week.”
While he hoisted her up and pressed her between himself and the wall, she answered, “I’m here now.”
He needed no further invitation. With a quick and powerful thrust, he was in her. Visions kept passing in front of his eyes as he pumped furiously into his wife, pounding her against the wall. Hannah with her lips around Neville and wishing it were Ginny. Here she was. Hermione bouncing on top of Ron, impaled on him as Ginny was in his dream. And now she was. Neville worshiping at Hannah’s sex, Fleur grinding all over Bill. Harry couldn’t last, everything came to now.
With a loud yell, he came into Ginny, thrusting with each spasm. Ginny was breathing heavily into his ear. Everything melted away, it was now him and Ginny. Everything was better.
“You really did need that,” she said.
“Mmmm.”
“You feel like you need more,” she commented. “I know I do, it’s been too bloody long.”
Harry quickly realized that he was, in fact, still hard – still inside Ginny. Maybe it was the frustration and stimulation of the week. Maybe it was residual effect from Fleur. He didn’t know, but the edge was off, and now he could make up for the entire, maddening week.
He began again, thrusting in and out of Ginny. With his immediate need no longer weighing on him, he was slower, more loving with his wife. She wanted none of it.
“Don’t wuss out on me now, Harry. You were not the only one missing this, the only one who needs it,” she admonished. “Now! Give it to me!”
Needing no more encouragement, Harry resumed his early thrusts. The feel of her slick passage holding him, trying to prevent his withdraw was heaven. The velvety friction was short lived as he drove Ginny again and again into the wall. Each thrust was punctuated with a gasp or growl from her before he pulled out and slammed in once more.
At first, her growls became more insistent. Then he could feel in the subtle fluctuations inside her against his cock. The pressure began to increase, forcing him to slam harder, causing expulsions of air that hit his face, interrupting the whine that her growls had become. Finally, as he pushed aside the worry that he was now being too aggressive and might hurt her, Ginny’s arms clamped around him, making it difficult to breath as she cried out her orgasm. To the best of his ability within her grasp, he continued thrusting in and out of her, prolonging her pleasure.
When she went limp in his arms, he stopped his motions. He held her tightly, enjoying the feel of Ginny finally back in his arms.
“You’re still hard,” she noticed.
“I missed you,” he answered.
“Let’s go make up for lost time.”
Harry got to live his dream as Ginny, whom he carried out to their bed still attached, rode him on top. He could almost make out the snitch cork thing fluttering by her head. Up and down she bounced, and he raised his hips to meet her each time. Her naked skin was beautiful, shining with perspiration. Her breasts were mesmerizing in their movement. Ginny cried out, slamming down and grinding into Harry’s groin as she came, pushing him over the edge. He shouted as he splashed into her.
Ginny fell forward, splayed across his body like a blanket, and breathed heavily catching her breath. Harry wrapped his arms around her naked body, holding her close as he whispered his love to her and they both drifted off to a peaceful sleep.