Sic Transit Gloria

Ginny let out a sigh and gave up trying to arrange the trinkets on her desk in some order. She opened the drawer to the desk and shoved all the objects in. There, nice and clean. Pushing herself up from the desk, she started pacing the room impatiently waiting for her guest to arrive. She had planned this, it was perfect. None of her brothers would miss him at the party, they would be much too shit faced and preoccupied with their own girlfriends as they always were when their parents went to Romania. Of course, he would be drinking too, but that didn't matter. She knew he would do whatever she wanted; he WAS in love with her. She faced the mirror and straightened the hair she had just tousled by running her hands through it. With a thought, she quickly put up silencing charms to block out the noise of the party downstairs.

Keep the noise low.
She doesn't wanna blow it.

A sudden knock on the door shook Ginny from her thoughts. She opened it to reveal a very wet, very dejected looking Harry. Most of his unruly black hair stuck up as if he had tried to shake himself dry (a habit he must have picked up from Sirius), while pieces clung to his forehead and slightly pink cheeks. He no longer wore his round glasses that made him look much younger than his age, as Hermione had found a very useful charm to fix his eyesight. His brilliant green eyes scanned the room before his hand made a motion asking to be let in.

Shaking head to toe
While your left hand does "the show me around."
Quickens your heartbeat.
It beats me straight into the ground.

Ginny took the questioning hand and pulled him into the room, quickly locking the door behind her. A surprised look crossed Harry's face as she pushed his tall thin frame onto the bed.

"Ginny! Wha-? I- I brought you this book." He stumbled for the words as he pulled a folded and slightly damp book out of the back pocket of his jeans. "I- I though you might like it. We- we were talking about Muggle tattoos the other day, remember? Do you want to loo- oh!"

Harry didn't move as Ginny crawled on top of him and started kissing his neck, pushing her hands through his soft wet hair.

"Harry, I don't want to read," she said, taking the book from his hand and tossing it to the ground. Harry followed it with his eyes, not understanding why Ginny wouldn't want to look at the book, she'd been so interested in the topic only days before. "In fact, I don't even want to talk." With a look of pure lust in her eyes she started to slowly peel Harry's rain soaked t-shirt off of his scarred body before repeating the same motion on her own.

You don't recover from a night like this.
A victim, still lying in bed, completely motionless.
A hand moves in the dark to a zipper.
Hear a boy bracing tight against sheets
barely whisper, "This is so messed up."

oOo

Harry had been outside in the garden of The Burrow with a bottle of Firewhisky for half an hour, it was raining but he'd barely noticed it he was so lost in his thoughts. He needed to be alone for a bit before going to face Ginny. The look in her eyes earlier that day when she told him she needed to talk to him later... It couldn't be good. She was going to break up with him. He knew it.

She obviously realized the mistake she made when she decided to start dating him, and she had realized it relatively quickly. Harry began to think he was an idiot for even trying to be in a relationship with Ginny, it was too risky, there were too many factors against them. But he wasn't ready to give her up. He loved spending hours with her just walking out in the countryside talking and learning more about her, his best friends little sister. The beautiful woman with long red hair and a laugh that made his heart soar.

No, he wasn't ready to let her go... but obviously she was ready to get rid of him.

He threw the kitchen door open and stalked up the stairs to Ginny's room, taking no notice of the fifteen drunken people staring at him from the living room.

Upon arrival the guests had all stared.
Dripping wet and clearly depressed,
he'd headed straight for the stairs.
No longer cool, but a boy in a stitch,
unprepared for a life full of lies and failing relationships.

(Up the stairs: the station where
the act becomes the art of growing up.)

This isn't how people break up with each other, Harry thought, not daring to move lest he did something wrong. She wasn't going to break up with him. No, breaking up with him was definitely something Ginny was not doing tonight.

Merlin, she was beautiful. Soft light from the candles placed around the room made her fair skin glow. Harry took great interest in the light freckles sprinkled over her bare shoulders before daring to look up at her face, framed by flaming red hair as she leaned down and caught his mouth with hers.

He keeps his hands low.
He doesn't wanna blow it.
He's wet from head to toe and
his eyes give her the up and the down.
His stomach turns and he thinks of throwing up.
But the body on the bed beckons forward
and he starts growing up.

He wasn't ready for this...

The fever, the focus.
The reasons that I had to believe you weren't too hard to sell.
Die young and save yourself.
The tickle, the taste of...
It used to be the reason I breathed but now it's choking me up.
Die young and save yourself.

No, he wasn't ready for this. But he wanted it.

Every part of his mind was screaming, "This isn't right!" But his body was on fire, every muscle seemed to tense when she moved. He didn't know what to do, so he did nothing but return that hungry kiss. She muttered something into his mouth and the room went dark.

She hits the lights.
This doesn't seem quite fair.
Despite everything he learned from his friends,
he doesn't feel so prepared.

She's breathing quiet and smooth.
He's gasping for air.

Harry's breath caught in his throat as she licked his exposed hip bone. She shouldn't know to do that. She shouldn't know to do any of that. She was his Ginny, she was supposed to be his innocent Ginny. He'd had it all wrong. She'd done this before, and from the way she was moving against him, Harry guessed she'd done this MANY times.

"Ginny," he gasped as she let her teeth graze one of his nipples, "I- I've never... this is..."

"This is the first and last time," he says.
She fakes a smile and presses her hips into his.
He keeps his hands pinned down at his sides.
He's holding back from telling her
exactly what it really feels like.

It was no use, she wouldn't stop. Harry was sure she could feel the embarrassment and awkwardness radiating off of him in waves, but she kept going.

If only he had said something before she threw him on the bed. They could have fallen asleep together; her flowery scent would linger on his clothes the next day. He wouldn't feel guilty in the morning; he wouldn't feel used by the one person who promised never to use him.

Merlin, if Ron caught them like this...

He is the lamb, she is the slaughter.
She's moving way too fast and all he wanted was to hold her.
Nothing that he tells her is really having an effect.
He whispers that he loves her,
but she's probably only looking for se-...

(Up the stairs: the station where
the act becomes the art of growing up.)

He wasn't what she needed. Not the secretive, emotional, heavy baggage carrying Harry Potter.

He wanted to run away. Ginny deserved so much more than him. She deserved a life where she wouldn't end up in Witch Weekly every time she set foot out of the front door with anyone besides the Boy Who Lived.

No. No, she didn't deserve him. She was just using him. All she wanted from him was bragging rights, he could see that now. To be able to say that she shagged Harry fucking Potter. Or better yet, that she turned the Boy Who Lived into a man.

Maybe she thought it would make her a Hogwarts legend.

She didn't want the long walks or witty conversation. She didn't want the laughter, or content quiet nights. She didn't want to be with Harry.

She just wanted sex.

So much more than he could ever give.
A life free of lies and a meaningful relationship.
He keeps his hands pinned down at his sides.
He waits for it to end
and for the aching in his guts to subside.

"Leaving so soon?" Ginny peered up at him from the bed as he picked up his clothes and cast a quick drying spell before putting them back on.

"Need more Firewhiskey," he mumbled before opening the door. "G'night, Ginny."

Harry walked down the stairs as quickly as possible without attracting too much unwanted attention from the occupants of the living room. He stepped through the back door to empty the contents of his rolling stomach into the garden before returning to the party.

The living room was full of noise and movement when he returned. He was glad nobody questioned him about his absence, and quickly found an unopened bottle of Firewhisky. He plopped down on the couch next to Ron, who nearly tipped over when the weight shifted on his seat, and also happened to have a nearly full bottle in his hand.

"Cheers 'Arry!" Ron beamed at him, catching his balance. "T'morrow's gon' be hell!"

"Cheers, Ron," Harry said as they knocked their bottles together. The red head had no clue how horrible the next day was really going to be. But for now, Harry was going to forget.

The fever, the focus.
The reasons that I had to believe you weren't too hard to sell.
Die young and save yourself.
The tickle, the taste of...
It used to be the reason I breathed but now it's choking me up.
Die young and save yourself.