Christmas 1996

It was after eleven o'clock at night when Ginny Weasley was finally able to take a shower. The Burrow was uncommonly full this Christmas, and the two bathrooms were overrun with family members and guests. At least we don't have the same problem that Muggles do, she thought. The idea of running out of hot water for a wash seemed barbaric, and she had not believed it when Hermione had first told her, until Harry had confirmed it. Poor Muggles. She glanced over at the other (thankfully empty) bed in her room and grimaced. Because of her stupid brother, she had to share her space with Phlegm and not Hermione.

And stupid Bill, for picking an empty-headed witch for his future wife. At least she wouldn't be expected to share a room with Phlegm after she and Bill were married.

She gathered up her shampoo and conditioner and tossed them onto the bed. Almost as an after thought, she threw her wand there too. If there were no clean, dry towels, her mum would just have to ignore a bit of underage magic. And if Phlegm is taking another one of her two hour long baths, Mum will understand when I've got to hex her, she thought grimly, though she felt like a bit of a hypocrite, since the reason why she'd stayed up to wash was because she liked having enough time to take a very long shower.

But it was different when Phlegm did it.

Ginny liked to use the time to think, and several things had been bothering her all day, and Dean's gift to her (a stupid basket full of WonderWitch products that she'd been forced to hide to avoid humiliation in front of Fred and George) was at the top of the list. Where in the name of Merlin had he gotten the idea that she'd like that? He could've gotten her something to do with Quidditch; he could've gotten her something that wasn't pink!

She threw off her clothes angrily, grabbed her dressing gown and threw it over her shoulders, belting it at the waist. It wasn't until she felt a cool breeze around her bum that she remembered that she'd stepped right through it and torn it in her sleepy stupor the other day. "Damn it," she snarled. She glanced at her wand. What Mum doesn't know won't hurt her, she thought. She grabbed it and whispered the charm that would make her invisible.

Everyone's asleep anyway, she thought. Except for Phlegm and she's with Bill. There wouldn't be any uncomfortable confrontations on the landing, and even if there was... no one would be able to see her. She gave herself a mental pat on the back -- and whispered a thank you to the universe that the Trace could not detect one little underage witch's magic with so many fully-qualified adults around -- and gathered up her things.

She caught a glimpse of the pile of laundry that hid Dean's gift to her, and started fuming again. A small part of her could not help but be happy that his complete idiocy had given her something else to focus her anger on. She didn't want to think about Percy. Thinking about Percy hurt, especially seeing the look on her dad's face after he had left. Harry had been wonderful today, though. He'd relived the row he'd had with the Minister of Magic (complete with hand gestures and exaggerated facial expressions) to make them laugh, and then he'd--

Dean's stupid present, she told herself firmly. She didn't want to think about how wonderful Harry was, and how he'd given her a one-armed hug that had sent shivers down her spine. And later that afternoon, he'd told her (after making her swear not to tell Ron) what Lavender's stupid gift had been; he'd done it just to cheer her up, she could tell. They were just now starting to be friends, real friends, and if he had any idea that her crush not only still existed, but had deepened into something that sort of frightened even her, he'd run in the opposite direction.

Dean's stupid present.

Dean's stupid WonderWitch present.

The thought stayed with her as she marched -- naked -- up a flight of stairs. She pushed open the door to the bathroom, working herself up to a good, cleansing anger. She shut it behind her, remembering just in time not to slam it. Others were sleeping, after all. He doesn't even know me at all, the stupid git--

It took her only a split second to realize two things: one, the shower was running; and two, she wasn't alone.


Naked Harry.

Her face ignited as she caught sight of his naked buttocks. His back was to her, and he was rinsing the soap suds out of his hair. Leave! a little voice in her head screamed at her. But Ginny's feet were glued to the floor and she felt awful and guilty, but all she could think about was how much she wanted him to turn around. Water flowed down his back -- his buttocks were perfectly shaped -- turn around! Turn around! Just one little peek, she promised. And then I'll leave straightaway.

She set the shampoo and condition down, softly, so he wouldn't hear.

He tilted his head back, rinsing his face. Ginny's eyes travelled from the top of his head to the backs of his heels, trying to memorize every inch of him. He was tall and thin, but he had clearly defined shoulders that tapered down to his waist. She stared, fascinated, as his bum clenched, and the muscles were clearly defined.

He murmured something she didn't quite catch, and for a few moments, her eyes were drawn to his arm, which was moving back and forth in a rhythmic manner. It wasn't until he shifted and turned around that she realized what he was doing, and her heart nearly failed in her chest. She pressed herself against the door, completely incapable of moving or even blinking.

Holy shit.

Harry held his penis in one hand and lightly stroked his balls with the other. It lengthened while she watched, enthralled. Almost without realizing it, she stepped closer. Harry drew in a deep breath, as though savoring the smell of something, and moved his fist, pulling at the skin of his balls at the same time. She jumped when he made an abrupt movement, but he was only bracing his legs. He hadn't heard her.

Ginny's breasts grew very heavy. And, unable to stop herself, she brought her hand up and squeezed lightly, running a thumb across the nipple. It tightened, and she felt a surge of heat between her legs. He grunted, and the sound sent a shiver up and down her body. Her eyes fixed on his penis, and she fervently thanked the universe for this moment, even though she felt slightly dirty at standing here watching Harry in a private moment. The majority of her, however, felt an almost unbearable arousal.

Harry looked wonderful from behind. His bottom was a thing of beauty. But Harry in profile, with his erection arching up toward his flat stomach, and his own hand fondling it... Ginny's body tingled from the sight. Just seeing him, watching him pleasure himself, was sending her toward an orgasm, and she'd not touched her clitoris once. It was difficult for her to breathe, and he kept groaning whenever he gave his penis a full stroke.

Ginny was quite certain that she'd never seen anything more beautiful. Until he took the hand off his sac, arched his back, and braced himself against the wall. His right hand moved faster and faster, and Ginny leaned over just a little, just so she could see a little better. Everything about Harry masturbating sent jolts of pleasure to her body. The sounds that came out of his mouth... the way his eyes were squeezed tightly shut, and his lips were parted... the way his balls slapped against his leg...

Ginny bit back a whimper. She took her hand off her breast and moved it down between her legs. She was so wet that her fingers kept slipping, and she pressed down on her clitoris -- hard -- with the palm of her hand while Harry's grunts grew louder. Damn. She imagined that it was Harry's palm, and that she had her hand wrapped around his long, thick penis. She almost fell over.

He was close too. His hips were moving in time with his hand, and a flush had spread over his chest and face. He thrust once, twice, three more times into his hand. Ginny watched, unable to breathe, as white fluid shot out the tip and splattered against the wall. He kept going, though he slowed down, and more came out and dripped to the floor, where it swirled around with the water from the shower and disappeared down the drain.

And Ginny shattered with the force of the most intense orgasm she'd ever had. She slid down the wall and into the corner where Harry was least likely to step on her; waves of pleasure still made her entire body shudder. She dimly realized that she was very lucky that Harry had come at almost the same moment, for he was still distracted enough by his own pleasure that he did not hear her panting for breath. His own was still coming out in harsh gasps.

"Merlin," he groaned. He shut the water off, and reached for a towel, drying himself off. And Ginny still couldn't keep her eyes off him. His penis was soft now, but just a few moments previously, it had been erect and fierce. He dressed, almost carelessly graceful, in the pajamas he had brought down from Ron's room.

And he stopped suddenly when he saw the shampoo. Ginny's heart failed, and she desperately hoped that if he found out she was here, she could reach her wand and perform a memory charm before he could stop her. But instead, he drew in a deep breath and said, inexplicably, "It's the shampoo."

And then he was gone.

As Ginny reached down and placed a light touch on her clitoris -- fully prepared to relive what had just happened -- two thoughts popped into her head. First: Happy Christmas to me. Then: I'm never going to get over Harry Potter now...

Author's Note:

Some of you have expressed confusion in that in the first chapter, Harry and Ginny were married, and in the second, they had just gotten engaged. This is more like a series of one-shots rather than a story (as is probably obvious by this chapter). I pretty much go with the inspiration.

Inspiration can be helped, and if any of you have got any requests, I'll definitely take them into consideration. I'll only do Harry/Ginny, though. Suggest away, though I'll not promise that I'll get bitten by a plot-bunny. :D