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Like so many good things before, it had started purely by chance. They’d been standing close together in a bustling queue, waiting alongside thousands of other fans for entry to the Weird Sisters’ concert, when Ginny was bumped roughly by the hairy-looking wizard in front of them, sending her flying into Harry. She was just preparing her most withering glare, the one she normally reserved for the few remaining brothers either stupid or reckless enough to call her “Titch”, for the bastard who dared knock her like that, when she felt something rapidly stiffening against her backside. She spent a naïve moment motionless, wondering whether Harry had picked up one of the prototype Reversible Fake Wands – “From fish to stick in just a swish” – Ron and George had been working on when they’d last visited Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes. She even ground herself slightly against it, trying to figure out why it felt so warm, even through both of their trousers, when she was sure she’d heard George complaining about how the “blasted things feel way too cold, it’s always a dead giveaway”. It wasn’t until she’d felt a that she’d realised exactly what she was pressing against and jumped forwards, a blush creeping up her neck as she studiously avoided looking at both her fiancé and the impromptu camping holiday in his trousers. If she was honest with herself, it wasn’t that huge a surprise. At least, the surprise itself wasn’t huge. The subject of the surprise… Her cheeks warmed further as she tried desperately to hide her blush from Harry.
Any girl growing up with an older brother would naturally have a pretty good, if uncomfortable, knowledge of the male body. Having six of them, alongside the occasionally failing charms on Ron’s room, had almost provided her with a better understanding of men’s bodies than her own. Of course, even if she hadn’t been painfully aware of the mechanics of that particular body part, Dean’s – enthusiasm – during their occasional snogging sessions in her fifth year would have filled her in in that regard. Not literally, at least. For all his good looks and charm, she’d known from the start that she was never going to shag him. Really, she didn’t want to go much further than snogging him anyway, especially when Dean’s version of snogging tended to leave a slightly damp patch where he’d been grinding away at her hip. She had taken pity on his puppy-dog eyes nearer the end of the relationship, when she was only really with him in a failed attempt to prove to herself that she could be “over” Harry, and let him have a bit of a fondle, on top of her blouse. She wouldn’t admit it to herself at the time, but she’d spent every moment with her eyes locked tight, imagining those wandering hands belonged to a boy with far darker, messier hair. She hadn’t planned to admit it to Harry, either, until a particularly intense session down in the orchard at the Burrow had her blurting out how much better this was than it had been her imagination. Harry had been hard then, too, and it only seemed to grow against her leg as she’d gushed on and on about how she’d imagined it was his hands running over her shirt, his lips caressing hers, him pressed hard against her hip and soaking her skirt, as she marvelled at how how sexy and powerful the sensations of Harry’s erections made her feel, rather than the discomforting embarrassment offered by Dean’s.
In other words, she’d been well aware that guys sometimes get erections, and glorious experience said that Harry seemed to get them particularly often whenever he was around her. The real surprise had been that they could happen even when they were fully clothed, surrounded by people and at the merest touch from her. Intellectually, she was aware of the concept of spontaneous erections, having overheard Charlie asking Bill for some “brotherly advice” about his issues in Transfiguration, but she knew in her heart that this was very different. She was responsible for that bulge in Harry’s deliciously tight jeans, and it was hers to claim. The very thought was exhilarating.
She didn’t really know what to do with this knowledge, though, so she spent the duration of the concert alternating between trying to focus on the bands playing and hoping that Harry wouldn’t notice how worked up she’d gotten. It didn’t exactly help things that Harry kept offering to let her ride on his shoulders, nor that she kept accepting. After all, she wasn’t going to let a little discomfort stop her engaging in one of the best parts of attending festivals with her fiancé, even if it was a little distracting to keep the warmth blazing between her thighs from coming close enough to his neck and head that he could feel the heat that was surely radiating from her.
By the end of the night, she’d almost reduced herself to a gibbering wreck even as Harry seemed completely oblivious to her state, instead holding her close against his chest as the Weird Sisters closed out the concert with *Magic Works*, the same slow dance they’d played at the Yule Ball, back in the days when she’d only been able to dream of a chance to dance with him like this, with those strong arms wrapped around her. In that moment, as the song reached its close and she gazed up at his beautiful, green eyes, framed by an endless field of stars and a contented smile, she made her decision. If just this light touch could make her feel so good for so long, she was going to dedicate as much of her time as humanly possible to teasing him like that. And shagging his brains out, naturally. In fact, she thought, struggling to morph her wicked grin into something decidedly more innocent, and coming out with something somewhere between the expression of a poodle caught chasing her bobbly tail and a tabby cat on finding her way onto the milkman’s float. She silenced Harry’s questioning look with a quick kiss, and began to scheme.
Of course, few plans last past their infancy, and Ginny’s barely made it five minutes as the bustling crowd leaving the stadium barely allowed her to keep a grip on Harry’s hand, let alone grasp him anywhere more exciting without risking somebody knocking them apart and leaving her suddenly engaged to a eunuch. Fortunately, a childhood spent with the twins and their constant tricks had fashioned Ginny into a genius when it came to thinking on her feet, and so she stepped behind her fiancé and patted him on the shoulder in the signal they had arrived at to ask for a shoulder ride when the crowd was too loud to communicate in words. Without missing a beat Harry dropped into a low crouch to allow her up before slowly rising back to his feet, keeping a tight grip on her knees as she found her balance before roaming upwards to softly caress her thighs, under the guise of helping her remain stable. She remained still, enjoying the feeling of his broad shoulders underneath her, before she began to slowly rock back and forth in time with his walking, softly at first before becoming more vigorous as she tangled her fingers between locks of his hair, stroking his head in the same lazy circles she made whenever his mouth found its way down to her crotch. Given that he seemed to enjoy that particular act of giving even more than he liked the reciprocation, she was pretty sure he’d recognise the motions, especially as she made sure to grind herself against the back of his head with every step he took. While they were stopped for a moment, she took a quick moment to move her wand out of her pocket before running her free hand slowly along his stubbled chin and back up to rub through his hair, as if that had been her sole reason for moving her hand in the first place.
As they reached the spot where they’d tethered their brooms, Ginny swung her legs around and slid down his back without giving him a chance to crouch for her, making sure to press every curve of her body she could against his back as she went. He turned to her with a look of bemusement, which she once again countered with a kiss which was slightly too long for polit company, breaking away with a coy look as he began to deepen it.
“I do love it when you let me ride you, Harry.”
She spun around before he could respond and sashayed towards her broom, making extra sure to fully exaggerate the motion of her hips with every step she took. As she reached the post, she bent over, bending from the waist to bring her back parallel to the ground and thrust her arse out with a silent word of thanks to Fleur for teaching her that particular move. She untethered the broom and, in a single motion, straddled the broom, turned back to face Harry and straightened her back up, flicking her hair towards him as she went. She reached into her shirt and brought out her wand from its place between her breasts with a demure smile, which widened as she watched Harry’s jaw unconsciously drop a little. Not wanting to lose the moment, she flourished the wand slightly, pausing for a moment as she brought it past her mouth, then pointing it straight down as it passed her chest before bringing it to rest, pointing just before the spot where the broom came into contact with her groin. Harry watched hungrily as she muttered an incantation and the broom began to shrink, seemingly receding between her legs until it was only a few inches long, at which point she reached down and placed it delicately between her breasts, with the wand following a few shallow breaths later. Harry’s mouth opened and closed wordlessly as he tried to articulate some coherent thought.
“Gin, what’s going on? You know you can’t safely fly that home until the shrinking charm wears off naturally, right?”
She let her grin widen further, until she almost resembled a Cheshire cat. Hopefully a sexy one, although she wasn’t quite sure how that would work so she schooled it slightly.
“I know, I was just worried I’d,” she paused for a moment, glancing down at herself, “slip off. I was hoping you’d let me ride your,“ another, longer pause, as she glanced towards the tented fabric of his trousers and licked her top lip, “broomstick.”
She almost thought she saw his dick jump from under his clothes as he gulped and struggled again for words. When he did speak, it was only in two, choked and stuttering syllables, rising to a squeak as he spoke.
“O-okay.”
He raised a hand with a slight shake, and the remaining broom flew into his outstretched fingers without a word from him. She wasn’t sure if she knew just how hot it was when he did such powerful magic with such nonchalance, but damned if she was going to let him know he had that sort of power over her when she was just figuring out how to use her own. Harry mounted the broom and scooted forward slightly, gesturing for her to sit behind him, but she only gave him a light chuckle and a wink before lifting her leg needlessly high and climbing on in front of him, scooting back and leaning forwards until she could feel every inch of him throbbing against her backside. She glanced back over her shoulder at him, one eyebrow raised.
“So, are we going or what?” She accented each word with a quick wiggle, eliciting a small groan as she pressed back against him. Harry, to his credit, was a far better flier than talker, and only needed a few deep breaths to calm himself enough before he could kick off from the grass and bring them into the sky. They flew in silence for a while, revelling in the combined joys of flight and their closeness. Ginny didn’t even have to put too much of an effort into teasing him, the erection between her arse cheeks providing an effective indicator of the success of her work. Every time he began to soften, she simply had to lean back and run a hand up his thigh, give another light wriggle against him, or even, when she was feeling particularly frisky, drag herself a little forward of the broom, before letting go and allowing herself to slide slowly backwards into him, slowly pushing his hard penis back upwards as she went. Between the constant teasing and the thinning of the air, neither one of them spoke in a complete sentence until they were flying over Oxfordshire and Ginny decided it was time to step up the teasing.
“Wow, love, your wood is looking really battered. Not to worry, I’ll give it a good polish when we get home.” As she spoke, she casually leaned forward, pressing him even tighter between her cheeks as she conspicuously ran her hands up and down the handle of the broom, stopping every time she reached the rounded end to run her palms over the tip, before plunging back down until she was almost touching herself through her clothes. Behind her, she could feel Harry trying again to speak, so she took pity on him for a moment, halting her movement with one last stroke. Of course, Ginny was never one to stop completely, and she took great pleasure in running her hands up and down his well-toned thighs, never quite reaching anything she might normally consider interesting as he spluttered through a question, but coming a little closer to the focus of his throbbing need with every word he managed to grind out. She gave silent thanks to the course-correcting charms on the broom, which were likely being worked overtime to keep them from wandering out to France as he shook.
“Fuck, Gin. What are you doing?”
She looked back over one shoulder, intentionally shifting her bum against his raging erection in the process, and put on the most innocent smile she could manage while he throbbed against her.
“What do you mean, love?”
For his part, Harry was much quicker to respond than she suspected she would be in his situation. Evidently she needed to try a little harder to properly fog his mind.
“You know what I’m talking about.” She fluttered her eyelashes until he elaborated. “You’ve been pressing and grinding against me almost non-stop ever since we got to the concert. I know we’re normally close but this, it’s agony…” he trailed off, eyes barely visible in the darkness.
Shit. She’d gone too far. She pulled herself forwards on the broom, perching at a safe distance to avoid accidentally pushing him any further.
“Sorry, Harry. I was just having some fun with you, I never really thought about how it might affect you outside of the obvious.” She tried in vain to avoid glancing down at his bulge, which was only accentuated by the broomstick underneath him. “I’ll stop now. Sorry love.” She looked away, trying to hide her despair at having hurt him. After all, if there was one thing her Harry hated more than being hurt, it was seeing somebody else hurting, and she didn’t want to unload this on him as well, even as she worried that he might not be her Harry anymore after this. So focused was she on keeping the unbidden tears from falling that she didn’t notice him snaking his hands around her waist, and she almost fell from the broom when he pulled her back into him.
“Bloody hell, Gin, please. Don’t stop.”
She gave him a disbelieving glance through tear-flecked eyes, meeting his own as they seemed to shine in a sudden flash of moonlight.
“You want me to keep going? Even though it hurts you?”
He chuckled lightly at that.
“It’s not painful, love. Anything but. What you’ve been doing to me, the constant anticipation, it’s torture, but the absolute best kind.”
She burned with triumphant joy at his words for a moment, before schooling herself back into her teasing mask and turning back to look at him through her eyelashes.
“So you’re saying you like it?”
“Yes, Gin.”
She turned further, swinging one leg slowly over the broom so she could sit side-on, and ran one delicate finger around his throbbing erection.
“You want me to keep going?”
He struggled to force out a response between the sensations she was giving him and the tone of her words.
“Gods - yes”
“So,” she wrapped her fingers around him until she could almost feel the blood pulsing beneath his skin, “you really want this?”
“Gin, please, yes!”
She squeezed him slightly tighter, gripping him to the point that he took a sharp breath before she pulled her hand away entirely and ran it down her own body, still perched sideways at the end of the broom.
“I’m not sure I want to. After all, I wouldn’t want to risk hurting you. Especially not that gorgeous cock of yours, I have big plans for it.” She punctuated her more salient points with soft moans as her hands roamed over her clothes. “You wouldn’t want to ruin my plans now, would you Harry?”
She continued to caress herself as he watched mutely, paying special attention to the breasts she knew he was so obsessed with. On occasion she dipped her hand beneath her blouse with a wink, rubbing a cold finger over her chest and suppressing the shivers brought on from the crisp night air on her sensitive skin. Beside her, Harry almost resembled a fish, his mouth bobbing open and shut as his clouded brain searched for a way out of her verbal trap. She was beginning to think she’d broken him when he finally spoke, almost whining with need.
“Ginny… please…”
She turned her head, pretending to regard him for a few, agonising minutes, before carefully swinging her other leg over, resting her ankle on his shoulder for a moment then, when he’d almost lost control of the broom in his excitement, bringing it slowly down to rest her thigh against Harry’s as she straddled the broomstick backwards, facing him. As he watched, she dipped her hand under her blouse once more to bring out her wand, before pointing it towards his crotch with as much nonchalance as she could muster given what she was about to do. After a moment’s hesitation, she tapped her wand against his crotch, then before she could change her mind shot a quick cutting charm at him, splitting his trousers straight down the middle and switching his long moan of pleasure for a gasp as cold air suddenly battered his uncovered groin. Before he could protest, she Vanished his boxers with another tap, leaving his bobbing erection exposed to the elements, if it hadn’t been for the rudimentary windbreak provided by her body.
Two more quick flicks sent his trousers flailing away from them, to land in some field in Wycombe. While some particularly obsessive fans might well have spent hundreds of galleons on The Chosen One’s jeans, the next morning a particularly observant farmer might well have noticed one of his goats snacking on the priceless denim. Not that either Harry or Ginny were concerned either way, of course. They had no real need for even more money after all of the wealth hoisted on them as “war spoils” which Harry apparently couldn’t return without causing what Hermione had termed a “major inter—species incident”, so for the foreseeable future Ginny would be keeping all of Harry’s clothes to herself. Other than the occasional pieces donated to the goats, of course. Lightly tickling his erection with one hand, she raised the other with her wand towards his torso, ready to grant the livestock one last meal of white cotton, before the wand was snatched from her grip.
“Gin, we need to stop. The muggles might be a bit oblivious, but somebody’s going to notice if we start shagging our way over Trafalgar Square.”
“Oh.” She said shortly, putting on her practiced look of innocence. “So –“ she reached her now empty wand arm down towards him - “you don’t want me to-“ she curled her fingers loosely around his erection, so soft against his sensitive skin that her touch might well have been mistaken for that of a feather - “touch you anymore?” She gave him a quick squeeze, withdrawing her hand just as a thick, clear bead dripped from his shining head and began to run down the polished shaft of the broom, moistening his leg and leaving Harry with a trail of wetness to rival Ginny’s own.
As Harry once again grappled with speechlessness, with the added dilemma of maintaining what remained of his modesty, Ginny took the opportunity to reach over to give him another, slightly firmer squeeze, but as her fingers came into contact with his skin, he yelped and momentarily lost control of the broom, swerving to the left and nearly throwing Ginny from her spot, half perched on the broom and half draped over Harry’s thighs. Regaining her balance, she curled her fingers around him once again, although much more carefully this time lest he accidentally drop out of the sky in distraction.
Once she was certain she wasn’t going to be given an early introduction to the concrete, she began to move her hand up and down his shaft, starting off so incredibly slow that after a few moments he gave up on his half-hearted concerns over being seen and instead thrusted impatiently into her grip as she stroked.
“Want me to go a little faster, love?” It was clear from the look in his eyes that it was taking all of Harry’s remaining brainpower even to nod yes to her question, so she set to work, accelerating rapidly until her hand was almost a blur against the night sky. She held that pace steady, occasionally leaning forward to whisper something particularly dirty in his ear while also giving him a not-so subtle peek down her blouse. It was after a particularly effective message, “I want your load, Harry, please come for me” that she felt him finally begin to spasm and grunt in her grip as he sped towards his impending orgasm before she pulled her hand away.
Suddenly deprived of any sensation at the peak of his pleasure, Harry thrust impotently into the empty space where her hand had been, his pulsating erection pumping a near torrent of that viscous, clear liquid across their thighs and lower torsos as it bobbed back and forth, in search of an orgasm which, like him, never came. As he struggled to regain his composure, Ginny plucked her wand from his grip and once more pointed it at his torso. Just as he noticed the wand against his stomach, she cast her spell, Petrificus, locking his arms at his sides in a partial body-bind, but leaving his legs free to keep control over the broom. .
“Just wanted to make sure you couldn’t interfere” she answered his questioning gaze with a wink, before pushing herself backwards until she sat nearly on the tip of the broom, bracing her feet against his thighs. Once she was as comfortable as possible, she began to caress herself once again, getting straight back to where she’d left off the last time, both hands fondling her breasts through her blouse and occasionally dipping under her clothes, but now she also had her wand in hand and wasted no time in slicing through the seams of her blouse, allowing it to fall away as she toyed with herself mere inches from where Harry sat, frozen and silent and throbbing with need. She leaned forward again, balancing fully on his legs so that she could remove her skirt, and inadvertently bringing her crotch right to his face, so close that she could feel his warm, heavy breath against the moist fabric of her knickers. If it hadn’t been for the partial bind he was in, he could have simply leaned forward and buried his face in her, but as it was his only real freedom was to reach out with his tongue, sheer millimetres from the sweet nectar he so desired. Hooking her fingers under the fabric of her knickers, she considered depriving him of the view a little longer, but her own need quickly overtook her and she almost tore the delicate fabric in her haste.
As Harry watched, cock bouncing in time with his racing heart, Ginny’s hands snaked around her bare flesh, pinching and rolling her nipples before they finally descended, gently running her fingers over her mound before she finally gave into the desire pulsing through her and pressing properly against herself, rubbing in rough, rapid circles as she brought herself higher and higher. Harry remained transfixed, his eyes drinking in every red-flushed inch of her as his abandoned erection weeped and bobbed worthlessly. In his distraction, he didn’t notice Ginny gently guiding them lower until they almost grazed the spire of St Paul’s Cathedral. She had a feeling he hadn’t realised just how close they were to Grimmauld Place, which meant it was time to bring out the big guns.
“Fuck, Harry,” she breathed, gazing hungrily down at his engorged manhood, “I need you inside me.” The rush of strength her words gave him was enough to break through the binding hex, pulling her down against him and wrapping his arms tight around her as he finally entered her. Unfortunately for Harry, their positioning, with Ginny’s legs wrapped over his, gave him absolutely no room to manoeuvre and leaving all motion under her control, something she was currently exploiting to rub lazily back and forth against him, a choice which was both immensely pleasurable and also completely useless for resolving Harry’s throbbing need. Out of the corner of her eye, Ginny caught a glimpse of the dull grey bricks of Number 12, Grimmauld Place, and put the final stages of her plan into place. Trusting the landing charms on the broomstick, she finally slipped into the motion he craved, even pulling out of his embrace slightly so that he could have a proper view of her boobs bouncing with every thrust. Unfortunately, the extra movement was enough to overpower the broom’s labouring charms, dumping them unceremoniously in a pile of bare flesh and limbs on the attic balcony. His throbbing erection was pressed against her chest, and her head rested on what she could only assume was his leg. They lay there for a while, catching their breath before Harry’s voice finally spoke out, from his position somewhere near to her hip.
“Fu-uck that was good, Gin.” She grinned at him, although admittedly what part of him she was grinning at, she didn’t quite know. In fact, she realised as she glanced around her, his body didn’t appear to be there at all. It took a moment for her to remember the subtle invisibility charm she’d cast under the guise of teasing , and dispel it. There was no need to tell him all of her secrets, after all.