ginger_veela: (Twelve Fail-Safe Ways)
[personal profile] ginger_veela
Title: In the Now
Pairing: Harry/Ginny
Rating: R
Word count: ~650
Warnings: Adult themes

Summary: Ginny helps Harry unwind after a rough day at the Auror Academy.

Notes: This pseudo-drabble was bought by [livejournal.com profile] katwoman_68 as part of my Purple Dove Auction, a fandom benefit for organizations that support LGBT youth; her donation went to The Trevor Project, a suicide prevention hotline for children and teens. Anyone who wants a 500-word drabble from me may purchase one for a small donation; bids are open for a longer fic as well. Please click on the auction link for details. Kathy's prompts were "fire" and "chocolate."

In the Now



"How'd it go today?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

Harry threw his Academy-issued cloak over the back of the armchair. He rummaged in his pockets, tossed a couple of knuts and a chocolate bar on the kitchen table, then headed to the bathroom; the sound of the shower running filled the small flat.

When he emerged twenty minutes later, towel cinched around his waist, a fire roared in the sitting room hearth. Ginny dimmed the lights and handed him a glass of Elder wine; Harry slugged it down in one swallow. He sat on the sofa, reached for the decanter on the coffee table, and poured himself another glass; Ginny sat down next to him.

"It's not a Dementor anymore, is it? Your Boggart."

Harry froze, the glass midway to his lips.

"How did you know?"

Ginny nodded at the now-empty wrapper on the edge of the table. "You didn't eat the chocolate I sent with you."

Harry took another gulp of wine.

"No one said this would be part of the training." The silence stretched out between them.

"It was me, wasn't it? Dead, or badly hurt."

He hesitated for a long moment, then nodded, not looking at her.

"I don't think I can do this, Gin."

Ginny put her hand on his knee. "I know you can. You've faced far worse than Boggarts already."

"It's not Boggarts that scare me." Harry took her hand in his. "I'll be hunting dark wizards, sending them to Azkaban. Some will have friends on the outside who could take revenge by hurting you. If I become an Auror, you'll always be in danger." He stared down at their entwined fingers, lost in melancholy, their wedding bands glinting in the firelight. "Maybe I made a mistake."

Ginny set her glass down. "Everyone fears losing the person they love, Harry. Do you really think Ron's Boggart is still a spider? That Hermione still cares about failing tests?" Her warm brown eyes sought his. "My Boggart's always been your corpse — even before Hagrid carried you out of the Forest and I thought you were dead."

Harry looked away, lost in thought.

"It never completely disappears, does it? The fear."

Ginny shook her head. "You will lose me someday, Harry — and I'll lose you. Nobody lives forever."

Harry frowned. "So how do we deal with not knowing when it will happen, or how?"

Ginny shrugged. "By making the most of the time we have, I suppose. Speaking of which, I expect that chocolate's melted by now."

Ginny withdrew her wand from the pocket of her dressing gown and waved it at the hearth; a tiny cauldron hanging over the fire sailed across the room, landing with a thunk on the coffee table.

Harry set down his glass, eyes fixed on Ginny as she untied the sash of her dressing gown, letting it slip off her shoulders. Her bare skin glowed pink in the firelight.

"Seemed a shame to let something so luscious go untasted." Her eyes crinkled as they dropped to the erection tenting the front of his towel. "Looks like that won't be a problem."

Harry shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips. He unwrapped the towel from his waist, letting it fall away, then dipped two fingers into the pot.

"Come here."

Ginny leaned closer. Her breath caught as the dark, viscous liquid coated one nipple, then the other, warm rivulets dripping down each breast.

"Harry..."

She gasped when his tongue followed, her fingers tangling in his hair as he licked and sucked her clean. The fire popped and crackled through the night, casting warmth and flickering shadows over their moving bodies, until the pot was empty, the embers turned to ash, and Harry was viscerally, sensually reminded — despite their uncertain fates — of the joy of being alive, and living in the now.
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