FIC: No Boundaries, by lunalovepotter
Title: No Boundaries
Word Count: 1,690
Summary: Now that the war is over and she is free to pursue romance with Harry, Ginny doesn't quite know what to do.
Author's Notes: Thank you so much to the Mods, snuggle_muggle and carrickorourke, for their patience in allowing me the extra time. I sincerely apologize to my recipient for being so late, as I had a very hard time settling on an idea that worked. I tried to make it fit your prompt as best I could, and I hope you enjoy the result. Thank you also to my wonderful beta, luvscharlie. :)
It was the day she had been waiting for, the day she had dreamed about since she was ten years old - her first "real" date with Harry Potter. And as happy as she was, Ginny felt a twinge of anxiety. She'd known him for nearly seven years, and fancied him for all of them - even before she'd known what it truly meant to 'fancy' someone. Now he fancied her back, and with the war behind them, they were finally free to be together as they had always wanted. So why was she so nervous?
Even though she and Harry had technically 'dated' for those few wonderful weeks while at Hogwarts, in Ginny's mind that didn't really count. Because then, they hadn't been free. The lazy afternoons by the lake had been heaven; with the feeling of Harry's fingers intertwined with hers, his thigh sliding between her legs as they lay together under their tree, and his slightly chapped lips finding hers in awkward, earnest kisses. But still, it had been a temporary respite from what they'd both known was coming. Deep in her heart, even then she had sensed that it would end. She'd held those thoughts at bay, allowing herself those moments of joy and hope as she looked into Harry's impossibly green eyes and ran her fingers through his perpetually messy hair as he flashed that lopsided grin at her. But when he had taken her aside at Dumbledore's funeral and told her he had to go on without her, she wasn't surprised. Even as she'd cried herself to sleep for days afterward, and spent months fearing for Harry's life, somehow in her heart she had known they would be together again. That knowledge - and the memory of their brief interlude on Harry's birthday right before Bill & Fleur's wedding - had kept her strong.
Ginny worried her lower lip as she stared into the mirror above her dresser, adjusting the pale green blouse for the upteenth time. "It looks wonderful on you, dear," Mum's voice echoed in her head. "Green sets off the highlights in your hair and your lovely skin tone."
A faint smile passed over Ginny's lips. Butterflies rose and fell in her belly, and she even felt a slight pulse of heat between her legs. She was nervous, not because it was Harry Potter, the heroic Boy Who Lived who had saved the wizarding world from evil; but rather because it was Harry, the man she loved. There were no shadows now, and no imminent threat of danger or death. This was freedom, and Harry was hers forever. She ran her fingers through her loose red locks, which she had decided to leave down since it was easier to manage and Harry liked it that way. She reached for a green jewelled clip in the shape of a butterfly, and lifted strands of hair off her temples, fastening them at the back of her head. She flipped her hair back over her shoulders and stared at herself again for a few moments, biting her lip. Her eyes drifted down to the small silver heart-shaped pendant at her throat. Then she frowned, and shook her head. Too girly. So she unfastened the hair clip and dropped it on the dresser.
She smoothed her hands down her front, and as she touched the light linen of her summery skirt, she wondered if she should wear jeans. She'd never been on a real formal date before, and she didn't know what to expect. Where was he taking her? He'd said dinner, but that left a lot of options open. It could be a pub, or a real restaurant with uniformed waiters that hovered around the table and refilled their water glasses every time they took a sip. (She'd never been to one of those restaurants, although Fleur had told her all about the fancy places in France, and Ginny assumed there were plenty of those in England, too. Harry would certainly feel more at ease in a pub, as would she, but he might also feel the need to impress on their first date.) Should she dress up, or was he expecting the usual Ginny, in jeans and a jumper? Would he think she was overdoing it with the silk blouse and the stockings? Then if he was underdressed, he would feel self-conscious and then the evening would be ruined.
"Oh bollocks, this is ridiculous!" Ginny sank onto the edge of her bed. The old mattress sank under her weight so that only her forehead and the crown of her red hair was visible in the mirror. She needn't be so self-conscious; she'd never been like that before. In a house full of brothers, with the almost constant need to prove herself, she'd never cared about how she looked. None of that mattered, because those were her brothers, and they wouldn't have cared if she went without makeup and wore holey jeans and faded t-shirts all day. She wasn't even sure they thought of her as an actual "girl" in the true feminine sense of the word - except when it came to Quidditch, which they mistakenly believed was a "man's game" until she'd shown them otherwise. This was Harry, who judging by the way his eyes glazed over and his fingers trembled when he touched her breasts through her shirt, definitely thought of her as a girl. Ginny's nipples tightened under her blouse at the thought, and she pressed down hard on them to make it stop. She was anxious enough, and there was no need to add arousal to the mix. That was a sure recipe for disaster.
Wringing her hands, she stood up again and went to the mirror. She consoled herself with the idea that at least she wasn't one of those girls who used "Glamour Mirrors", charmed to tell them how marvellous they looked and to lavish them with praise to boost their self-esteem. Ginny didn't need any of that nonsense. If she wanted to boost her self-esteem, she would talk to her mum. Mum wasn't afraid to tell her the truth, while also making her feel good about herself. After the war, it seemed ridiculous to worry about superficialities, especially with Harry, who couldn't care less (but then he was somewhat biased, she had to admit. He would never tell her she looked bad, even if she was covered in owl droppings). Yet here she was. She caught herself vaguely wondering if she ought to buy a mirror to keep in her purse.
Was green really the right colour? She frowned again, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "Damn it," she muttered, and started for the closet. Then there was a knock at the door, followed by Mum's voice: "Harry's downstairs, dear."
Ginny stopped short. Her tongue suddenly felt like a swollen sponge in her mouth. "C-Coming, Mum! Tell him I…I'll be there in a minute. Wait, what is he wearing?" She glanced toward the mirror again, fleetingly wondering if she had time to change.
Harry was standing in the kitchen with his back to her when she alighted from the stairs. Mum had mercifully ushered herself and Dad out of the way, so she and Harry were alone, although Ginny heard the low murmur of her parents' voices in a back room. Ginny lingered in the doorway watching Harry, taking slow breaths to steady her fluttering heart while she clenched and unclenched her fists. She was relieved to see he was wearing dressy trousers, with a collared shirt and a blazer that was slightly too big around the shoulders and a touch too long in the sleeves. He was muttering to himself, and seemed to be looking at something in his hand. He ran the other hand through his uncooperative hair a couple of times, muttered again, and then he started to pace. He turned on his heel, and he let out a slight gasp when their eyes met. His eyes were wide behind his round-rimmed glasses. Then she saw him surreptitiously slip something into his side pocket - the kitchen light glanced off it, and she realised it was a portable mirror. Ginny felt a rush of emotion sweep from the pit of her stomach into her chest.
She stepped into the room, her low heels clicking on the floor. "You really don't need that," she said, her voice soft.
Harry quickly wiped his palms on the front of his trousers, his cheeks flushed. He wasn't wearing a tie, and his collar was slightly crooked. It looked as though he had missed a button on his shirt somewhere along the way. He was perfect. He gazed at her with such unabashed longing that it made her want to run to him and snog him senseless. Her nipples hardened again.
"Sorry," he said, sliding his tongue along his lower lip. "I…you look…I mean -- wow, Ginny."
"You too," she answered. She barely felt her arm as she lifted it from her side, and held out her hand. Her fingers trembled imperceptibly. Harry's fingers slipped into hers, and their hands folded together. He drew her closer, and her heel caught in a groove on the floor so she stumbled. He caught her around the waist and without hesitation he pulled her up against him, where his arousal nudged her thigh as his mouth claimed hers. The kiss was soft and deep, and with each passing second Ginny felt her anxiety melting away. There were no rules now. No boundaries. It was just she and Harry, together. There would almost certainly be bumps in the road - separation loomed in the form of her return to Hogwarts with Hermione in a few weeks for their seventh year, and Harry's immersion in the intense Auror training program, along with Ron. But after all they'd gone through to reach this perfect moment in the kitchen, they could conquer anything. They were free.
"No more mirrors," she murmured into his mouth, as she curled her arms around his neck and laced her fingers up into his hair.