Harry's Birthday - Part 8

"I suppose," Harry said, burrowing his face into her hair and smelling that sweet floral scent he loved so much. Until he was eleven, he'd believed his parents had died in a car accident. He could remember lying in his cupboard and having imaginary conversations with them. He'd never considered that it was a form of grieving.

"So, what do you want to do for your birthday?" Ginny asked, and he knew she was trying to cheer him up. Feeling in the mood to actually celebrate his birthday for a change, he let her.

"I know exactly what I want to do," he said, nibbling on her ear, "but I think your mum might object if we spend the day up here – not to mention your army of brothers."

Ginny giggled, moving her head to give him better access to her neck. She moaned softly as he continued to plant kisses along the slender column of her throat, and he thought the sound might drive him mad.

Harry had just managed to relax and begin to enjoy himself when he heard Mrs. Weasley hollering to them that breakfast was ready. Harry and Ginny broke apart reluctantly, both panting and looking rather rumpled.

"Well," Ginny said, standing up and straightening her clothing. "It's nice to see that my mum's timing is as impeccable as always."

"Yeah," Harry replied grumpily, attempting unsuccessfully to flatten his extremely mussed up hair.

"It's just brilliant."

"Don't worry, Harry. We'll have plenty of opportunities to continue our activities once we're out from under her eye," Ginny said with an impish wink. Tossing her hair over her shoulder, she turned and left the room, leaving a gaping Harry to follow in her wake. Her words had sent his mind into overdrive, and he was suddenly very keen to begin their quest for reasons that had absolutely nothing to do with Horcruxes.

When they entered the kitchen, they found it already crowded. Everyone turned to stare, causing both of them to blush brightly. Harry was surprised to see Ginny coloring; she was usually better at not letting her family get to her than he was.

"Appears as if our birthday boy might have already received one of his presents," Fred said innocently.

Harry felt heat flame in his face and neck and knew that he'd turned even redder, if that were possible.

"Shut it, you," Ginny said in a low voice, piling a scoop of scrambled eggs onto a plate. She handed the plate to Harry and filled another for herself.

"Yes, Ginny," George said, grinning mischievously. "What took you so long? Was it hard to get Harry to rise this morning?"

Harry choked on his eggs, looking around wildly to make certain Mrs. Weasley was still busy at the stove and hadn't overheard their conversation.

Ginny appeared to have regained her composure. She casually cast her eyes downward at Harry and muttered, "Not really."

Fred and George sat motionless except for their eyes, which darted back and forth between Harry and Ginny. They wore identical stunned expressions before both broke out in hearty laughter.

Harry wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole. He was certain any one of her many brothers was about to curse him from existence. He was glad he'd at least come of age, so he could defend himself when they chose to attack. He glanced warily at Ron only to find that his friend wasn't even paying attention to them. He was pushing food around on his plate and glancing at his watch every few seconds. Ron was impatient to leave.