***

“Harry and………Padama.”

“Ew…strange, but not that far fetched.”

“Okay. How about…Ron and…Pansy!”

“Oh gross!”

“Disgusting!”

“I don’t even want to THINK about that one!”

“How about………Ron………and…………Harry!?”

“Ugh, gross! I’m going to have to gouge out my eyes! Thanks for that mental image.”

“AHHH!!! Alter my memory!!! Obliviate me!!! Ack!”

“Ewwww! We’re going for unbelievable, not gay! Good lord!”

“This has gone too far! Way too far. There is no way I want to even have the notion in my mind that my brother is gay. And gay with his best friend, no less! That’s just utterly wrong.”

“Wait! Just one more, Gin. I have one for you. I thought of the absolute best! This is the most unlikely, unrealistic, unbelievable, unfathomable, most utterly hilarious relationship of all! What about………Ginny and………”

“Oh come on, spill!”

“Ginny and………Draco Malfoy!”

“Oh my God! How could you even speak such an atrocity?”

“The ‘Slytherin Sex God’ and our ‘Virgin Mary, Little Sister, and Baby of Gryffindor’?”

“Not in a million years!”

“Not in a million decades!”

“Well, I personally could see that happening. It’s on my list of plausible events. Right after Snape gives full marks to every Gryffindor, McGonagall falls in love with Flitwick…and the apocalypse comes.”

“Can you imagine?”

“That is rather fantastic. You’ve got to admit, Gin, that IS utterly inconceivable.”

“Yeah, you’re right. It’s hilarious. Bloody disgusting. As if I would ever get within ten feet of that pile of rubbish! … I better head off to bed. I’m rather tired.”

***

Later, sitting on her bed up in the sixth year girl’s dorms, Ginny sighed and ran her hand over the soft white gloves she held. The fuzzy gloves had just arrived via a regal looking owl through her dorm window. There had been a tag attached, but it was gone now. It had quickly, and magically, folded itself into a paper bird right after she had finished reading it, and flown out the window. The thin, flimsy bird only made it five meters away before it burst into thousands of tiny, multi-colored pieces, each one fluttering to the bright snow-dusted ground below.

Thinking of you.

That’s all it had said. Romantic, really, if it had come from anyone other than him. But as it was, she knew he just intended to flaunt his wealth, not woo her or anything as silly as that.

As she folded the gloves and placed them softly in her trunk under her summer clothes, she remembered that the next day was the first day of the winter holidays. This fact meant that most everyone would be leaving and she would have the dorm to herself. She was staying behind this year, and frankly would be glad for the solitude.

This year, her mother and father were going to visit the twins at their flat. Fred and George had become a major success with Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes and were now living on their own. Charlie was still in Romania and wouldn’t be able to make it home for Christmas this year because a Hungarian Horntail had just died and left three eggs that were fit to hatch any day. Percy was off somewhere doing work for the Ministry. Both his job and his location were unknown and everything about him nowadays seemed “classified”. Bill was spending time with his wife and newborn daughter at his mother-in-law's house in America. Bill’s wife, Carol, had been on a business trip to England when she met Bill in a café. The two of them had dated for three months before they decided they were meant for each other. Ginny had asked Bill about his wife and how he had known he wanted to marry her so soon into their relationship.

“There’s just---a feeling you get Gin. I can’t put it into words. I don’t want to sound like a sappy romantic, but it’s just a feeling of complete, well, completeness. It’s as if I finally feel whole when I’m with her. There’s a connection between us. It’s not tangible, or describable, but it’s there, and I can feel it.”

At that point, Fred and George had walked in and Bill had shut up fast. It was all terribly romantic, but Ginny wasn’t sure that she would ever feel that way about anyone. It was hard enough for her to open up to her family and close friends. Even that wasn’t completely. Ginny never wanted to lay her heart on the line. She never wanted to put all of her trust into someone else. She never, ever wanted anyone to hold power like that over her. In her mind, it was like giving complete control of your emotions over to another person. And by giving your love and your life to them, they could break you just by saying one hurtful thing, just by doing one hurtful act. It was all too unsafe. All too unsure. Ginny knew she couldn’t do it. Not in this lifetime, anyway. It had already happened once, and she had vowed never to let it happen again. She wasn’t a stupid callow first year any longer.

Harry, Ron and Hermione were also staying at Hogwarts, like they had almost every year. The three of them were in their last year at Hogwarts and seemed, well, for lack of a better word, utterly bored. Every year before they had had an adventure to embark on, a mystery to solve, or something evil to vanquish. This year, however, with Voldemort cornered by the Ministry, everything in the wizarding world was remarkably under control. There were still plenty of death eaters scattered everywhere, but for the most part, they had fled, turned themselves in, or landed themselves in Azkaban. The Ministry had managed to predict where Voldemort would be in the coming month and were hot on his tail. Everyone was sure that this would be it, the end. Ginny wasn’t so sure. She had heard about the prophecy and she was, for the most part, sure that not only would Harry be the only wizard who could bring about the death of Voldemort, but Hermione and Ron would need to help him. After all, they had done everything together from the very beginning, so why not together at the end as well?

Even with the new Minister of Magic, there was one thing that had stayed the same; the Ministry did not want Harry to be involved in the capture of Voldemort, no matter what any prophecy said. Nor did they want the public to think that a teen-age boy could take care of Voldemort or, more precisely, that the Ministry was weak and incapable and couldn’t. They claimed it was not worth it to risk an innocent boy's life for the sake of a prophecy, but certainly they had ulterior reasons. Ginny knew that no matter what the Ministry said, Harry would be able to find a way around their directions, like he had every other time in his life. Ginny knew that Harry would end up saving the world. She figured it was only a matter of time until he figured out how.

Ginny was shaken from her thoughts when the dorm door opened and all the other girls came through. They all looked exhausted and hardly said a word to Ginny as they flopped down on their beds and pulled the curtains shut around them.

Ginny glanced at her watch and her stomach twisted nervously. She was going to be late if she didn’t hurry.

***

He had been waiting for nearly ten minutes and was debating whether or not to forget her and go for a bath when she burst through the portrait hole, out of breath and flushed in the cheeks.

“You’re late,” he stated, more as a fact than an accusation.

“Blame my housemates. They came to bed late.” She tossed her cloak over his desk chair and began to unbutton her blouse. His cloak was already hanging in the closet and he moved toward her and pushed her hands away from their chore. She knew he liked to undress her, for the sense of control it gave him, so she let him, not wanting to bother with a row tonight. “You’d never believe the ridiculous things they were talking about.”

“Oh,” he said, as she shrugged off her blouse and he idly ran his fingers along the edges of her white cotton bra. She moved closer to his touch, possibly unconsciously, but it really didn’t matter. He grabbed the opportunity he was presented and conquered her lips with his. Like the first time and every time after it, they both felt something; both felt something unspeakable, inexpressible, almost unreal. And at that moment, like every time before, they both had the same thought, the notion that something had clicked, something worked, something fit. As if they were at that moment complete. And this time, just like every single other time before, neither of them said a thing. Not a word was spoken.

Like always, the kiss was full of excitement and hunger. At first, their kisses had been tentative, growing slowly more heated and passionate as their desire began to stir to the surface. Now, there was no need to be tender. They knew what they wanted, and their needs were expressed without words. They knew how to work without communication. They worked together better than anything, as if they were attune to each others thoughts. They worked -they fit- it was that simple, but neither dared to say so. The awkwardness had vanished and had been replaced by urgency so strong and a fervor so intense that they nearly lost all sense when they finally were together.

She sighed with content at the contact and slid her hands up from between them, first over his chest, then his neck, and let them rest in the soft, web-like locks of his silvery gossamer hair.

Pulling back momentarily to undo the buttons of his shirt she mumbled, “Utter rubbish.” He closed his eyes as she kissed him across all the contours of his face. First on his eyelids, then his nose, his cheeks, his chin, and finally moving soft kisses across his neck, gentle as the beating of butterfly wings. To each infinitesimally small part of his face she gave attention. Though the desire was raging inside her, she felt no need to rush at this point. For some reason, there was a compulsion to give each beautiful contour of his sharp face gentle and tender attention.

He loved---the attention, he thought to himself. Together they were fiery and hot. They were always full of passion. But beneath those desires and burning excitement, there was an undeniable pull. He needed the time that he spent with her. She treated him like no one else ever had. She treated him like an individual person who truly mattered. She treated him like he was someone special, which was not in itself so unique. But what was different was her motive behind it. Her reason why. She didn’t do it because he was rich or powerful, those were the reasons she hated him. He wasn’t sure why she treated him the way she treated him when he knew that she hated him so. The fact was he really didn’t care. All that mattered to him was that she did it.

He realized she was speaking, whispering words referring to her early mention of her dorm mates. He didn’t much care what those bubble-gum bimbos were wasting air space saying, but he listened anyway. She managed to throw out words between kisses. “They were each trying to think of the most ridiculous couple in Hogwarts. One that would never…happen.”

She tugged at his hair while she pressed herself closer to him, the contradicting motions enticing all the same. He began to aid her as she struggled with the buttons of his shirt, but she, like him, chose to brush his hands aside and perform the task herself. She was tender but quick this time, focussing more on him rather than the pleasingly tender butterfly kisses he was unknowingly giving her. His soft lashes brushed across her cheek while she rested her head on his shoulder to acquire a better view of the pearl buttons of his shirt. She did her best to ignore intimate moments like that. She also did her best to ignore the frighteningly wonderful emotions they stirred in her. She knew that he must do such things to her either unknowingly, or just to make her fall for him. Whichever it was, she wasn’t sure. All she knew was that he hated her and all that she was, he always would, and there was no reason to let herself believe anything else and let her feelings for him change. She didn’t want to have to face what pain and damage he could do to her if she wandered into that dangerous territory.

Once he was free of the restraining shirt, she moved on to his tie, breaking away from his lips to smile enticingly at him. She pulled off the long piece of green and silver fabric and threw it to the floor where it landed on the small pile created earlier with their shirts and her strikingly contrasting gold and maroon tie.

She ran her hands over his chest and the lithe muscles of his stomach, marveling at the wonders shape she had seen so many times before, but never failed to appreciate. He captured her lips again and this time their tongues met, swirling together and creating an imperishable bond between their mouths. He urged her backwards, the two of them tumbling to the soft covers of the bed, mouths locked and hands exploring.

Soon, her bra was discarded along with his pants. He was clad now only in a pair of black silk boxers. She was lying across him, kissing his lips fiercely as she pinned his hands above his head. The way she was unaware of how her movements were affecting him was making him want to groan in anticipation and need. He was amazed sometimes at how innocent she was. They had done things together that she had never done before, and he had to admit, some things that were even new to him. Yet she still tended to miss things that happened right in front of her nose.

He made a swift movement and soon she was on her back, staring up into his cool eyes that were dark like storm clouds with animated craving. She moved her hips upward and he pulled her skirt off, tossing it to the side, where it landed on his desk, possibly spilling a bottle of ink. At the moment, he could care less, and soon he was kissing her frenziedly on her lips, on her face, on her neck, every beautiful part of her fragile body. Every inch of her skin was silky and pure, and he knew he was the only one who was able to appreciate its harmony and marvel in its splendor.

Her lacy knickers soon were hanging from the corner of a mirror on the wall, in which the reflection of two people intertwined on a bed of silk sheets could be seen melting together.

In a most inconceivably calm voice, he asked, “Who was the most ridiculous couple your silly friends thought of?” His tone revealed no interest, no hint of his thoughts, but in his eyes, if she had looked, she would have seen what he had felt. That he knew the answer, that he knew the “utter rubbish”, and that,in his mind, he wished it were much more than that to both himself, and everyone else. But she never saw it, and he would never say it

Her hands were in his hair, pushing his mouth toward her as his touch drew sparks from her skin. They were magic together, she knew it, she could feel it in every place they touched. The places where their skin met it was as if there was an electrical storm filled with the energy of lightening, fire and rain. He did things to her that was unexplainable except by the intense feelings that those forces stirred inside her. Though she was vaguely sure that what she felt went beyond all comprehensible forms of lust and into a more dangerous territory, she couldn’t find the strength to admit it to herself.

Presently she couldn’t answer because she was too busy to do anything but savor and experience. She was busily wrapped up in what was occurring; wrapped up in him. She was too busy seeing stars behind her closed eyes, too busy experiencing and marveling in him and her and only them together to think of any sort of acceptable answer.

He brought her back to the moment with a fierce kiss, connecting their mouths again, pressing his swollen lips to hers. Her thumbs caught the elastic band at the top of his boxers and slid them down. Once those were discarded on the floor, she slid her small hands across his body. He closed his eyes and let out a hiss as she lightly touched his burning skin. A small smile graced her full rose lips and again they altered their positions. Even after so long she could still electrify him with just a touch. Even after all the nights the two of them had spent together taking and giving in equal parts, they still lit each other on fire.

Now she was above him and was allowed to bend down and kiss his mouth firmly. They were locked together, tongues dancing and bodies moving. And then they were joined in a second place, the two of them together, fitting as one. If they had looked to the mirror where her knickers hung, they would have seen two people as opposite as day and night finding a way to build a bridge between the gap that held them apart, meeting in the middle, and blending together as one.

Then she pulled a small bit away and whispered in his ear, “They said you and me.” He had no idea what she was talking about but he knew that something about it must have been absurd, must have been utterly ridiculous to her because she was laughing. Then, before he could figure it out, she was moaning and he was speaking her name like it was a holy song and she was falling atop him, and they were slowing their breathing together, holding onto each other, and drifting off into a peaceful sleep. A sleep with no promises, no attachments, no hopes and no fears.

They were both there for the affection and passion, nothing more, nothing less. They both left to live their separate lives feeling somewhat fulfilled, feeling somewhat satisfied for a time. All they thought they needed was temporary bliss, temporary relief from the intense need of another. They searched thought the day without hope for the never found fulfillment of love, passion and promise intermixed. And at night they returned to each other to, for once, feel completed, needed, desired, appreciated. But there would always be a part of them that was not yet complete, not yet perfect, not yet fulfilled. Because they could not see that they were whole and flawless and completely loved when they were together. They could not see what was right in front of their faces. They couldn’t see what should be as plain as the sunburst in the day sky or the crescent moon among the stars. They couldn’t see it, and they wouldn’t. Not in a million years. Not in a million decades.