#brightlybound

“And why are you asking, anyway?” Ginny grounds out, roughly shrugging out of her coat and tossing it over her discarded bag. So much for this outfit. So much for trying. So much for fooling herself and sweating right through her bra and blouse and panty hose, fuck. “What's it to you?”

Harry’s face pulls strangely, and it seems he's fighting with himself as he gives in tightly, “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“A first!” Ginny scoffs, rounding the desk and dropping into her chair. “I'm fine. Better than fine, actually.”

Remus clears his throat. “Should I call for HR?”

She dissolves into laughter, the best thing he's ever heard, and when she rolls off him, he follows, drawn to her like a magnet. He hovers over her so as not to crush her, takes in her wild, mused hair–half from wind, half from his eager hands–and the marks he's left on her slender neck. 

She looks so fucking good, and she's his.

"And now?" Ginny says, squirming wickedly beneath him.

Harry inhales sharply, very aware that she's wearing a skirt, that she would probably let him push it up her hips, that she might even beg him for it.

"Now?" he says, his brain whirring and dangerously overcome with all things Ginny. "Even better, I reckon."

She bites down on her lower lip, swollen from being in his mouth just minutes ago, and her eyes go hazy with desire. He wonders if his are a mirror image.

Before he can do something reckless, stupid, Harry kisses Ginny quickly, just a peck at the corner of her mouth, and pitches himself into a clump of dandelions at her side. From the corner of his eye, he sees Ginny throw her forearm over her face.

"You should get an award," she mutters to the clear blue sky above. 

"For?" says Harry.

"Extreme Restraint in the Face of Randiness." 

He snorts, and Ginny turns her head to look at him, smiling faintly from under her arm. "I'd be offended if we hadn’t only been together for six days."

Quietly, he says to her, "Imagine what we'd get into in six more."