Summary: Post-Hogwarts. Harry's on summer break from Auror training and his first crush, Cho Chang, is coming to visit; she's anxious to get things going again. But Harry needs a few tips on how to handle a woman, and he gets them from a most unlikely source.

H/G romance/humor. Rated R for sex-lots of it--and language. Various plot points tie in with my other story, The Sixth Year: Ron's Big Adventure. Based on the Jim/Michelle plotline of the movies American Pie/American Pie 2. Not very canonical, of course. :D

Prologue: The Yule Ball

Harry Potter sat alone in his dorm room staring at his dress robes, his stomach roiling with dread.

What the bloody hell was I thinking, he asked himself for the hundredth time that day. I'm pathetic. I'm rubbish. I'm a loser. He glanced up in the mirror at his reflection.

Harry was a nice looking young man, really. He'd grown a few inches and Quidditch had put muscle on his otherwise wiry frame. He had messy, unkempt black hair and vivid green eyes that stared out from behind round, wire-rim glasses. But he screwed up his face in disgust. Ugly prat, he told himself.

Tonight was the Yule Ball. Harry was going, but he didn't want to. He should have been going with Susan Bones, but she had dumped him over the summer before their seventh year, and had broken his heart in the process. Now she was going with Terry Boot, a Ravenclaw. Even worse, Harry had heard the rumours about Susan and Terry, how they couldn't keep their hands off one another, how Susan had, in the words of Parvati Patil, "jumped into bed with Terry after six weeks, AND they do it all the time, apparently.

SIX WEEKS! Harry thought furiously. We dated practically all last year and she had sex with me ONCE. Now Terry Boot is shagging her every other night?!

He ran a hand through his hair and laughed bitterly. Susan wasn't even the worst of it. No, the worst of it was that Cho Chang, his first crush, the girl (he had thought) of his dreams, had started writing to him. Like an idiot he'd written back, and now they had a regular correspondence that had started friendly but had turned first flirtatious and then downright naughty. Cho was a year older than Harry and worked as a Curse Breaker for Gringott's bank; she was stationed in Egypt. She was smart and gutsy and the most beautiful girl Harry had ever met. Every night he fell asleep dreaming of her long black hair and the way it fell down her back, ending just above her very lovely backside. Every night he dreamed of her perfectly straight teeth, her fabulous bow-shaped mouth that had once-only once-kissed his, back in his fifth year, under some mistletoe.

He had never meant to fall for her all over again. Their first foray into a relationship had been mostly disastrous. But for that one kiss-which supplied Harry with the perfect springboard to imagine doing lots of other things with Cho-they had not been able to connect, to get along. Cho had been grieving over her first boyfriend, Cedric Diggory, who died the year previous. Harry had seen Cedric die and was trying to deal with that. In hindsight, Harry realized, he and Cho probably shouldn't have gone near one another.

But this year things were different. Harry was a free man; he was over Susan (well, mostly. He still wanted to smash Terry Boot's face in). Cho, as she told him in every increasingly sexy letter she wrote to him, was entirely available.

Harry finally broke down and wrote to Cho, begging her to visit him. She wrote back a day later saying she would and three days later she arrived at Hogwarts for the Halloween weekend.

It should have been perfect. Harry was ready for Cho now. Okay, he'd only had sex once in his life and Cho had had sex, well, many more times than that, but he was ready. He would not shirk from doing all the things she had teased him about wanting him to do to her. No sir, not Harry. He was ready. Cho might be the most gorgeous female person on the planet but she was just a girl. He wasn't going to worry about what other blokes did with their girlfriends, like he did on their only date at that dreadful tea shop, Madam Puddifoot's. He was ready.

Except that he wasn't. Not even close. Cho showed up looking so spectacular that Harry had trouble talking around her. Again. She flirted with him, which only made things worse. They went to the Halloween ball together and she danced so close to him that his pants became rather uncomfortable, and he wound up spending half the night walking around with his hands in front of his crotch.

But that wasn't the worst of it. No, the worst of it was when the ball ended and Cho whispered in Harry's ear.

"Let's find someplace private," she cooed. "I know the perfect place."

She meant, of course, the Room of Requirement. The very room where they'd shared that oh-so-innocent kiss two years before. The very room where Harry and Susan, in fact, had ALMOST achieved what Fred and George Weasley jokingly referred to as "Number Four" before Susan put on the brakes and told her she wanted to wait to "make love" until she was older. She and Harry wound up doing it three weeks later while on holiday together in France, and then two weeks after that she dumped him, and then two weeks after that took up with Terry Boot, and then six weeks after that started shagging him stupid every night...

But I don't care about that, thought Harry, as Cho led him down the corridor to the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. They walked back and forth three times, thinking of the kind of room they needed ("anything with a big bed in it," thought Harry), and the room appeared. Complete with massive, heart-shaped bed (that was entirely Cho's doing).

Things had not gone well. Harry knew he was doomed the moment Cho started peeling off her clothes. She wound up taking the lead, pushing him down on the bed seductively and kissing him slowly and passionately, but then she started to undress him. And Harry...lost it.

The horror of losing control was nothing compared to Cho's reaction. She started to get dressed and leave. Harry begged her to stay, swearing on a stack of Bibles (which magically appeared next to the bed-damn that Room of Requirement!) that he could last longer, do better, that he had more control.

Cho relented, and they started kissing again, and Harry immediately felt himself standing at rather painful attention. Then Cho climbed off him and stood by the bed, looking magnificent-and very naked-in the moonlight. She took Harry's hand and ran it over her skin, starting with her collarbone, down over her breasts-both of them!-down the smooth valley of her stomach, over her hips, and then between-

And Harry lost it. Again. The evening ended. Harry was left alone on a huge, tacky heart-shaped bed with a stack of Bibles next to it, while Cho dressed and left, very embarrassed.

The only bright side was that Cho, at the very least, was not cruel or mean about it. She was as embarrassed as he was, and wound up apologizing.

Harry was sure she'd never want to speak to him again, but she had begun to write him again, not long after that. She didn't mention that night at all, but she didn't come to visit again, either, claiming that the bank "owned her" and was sending her all over the Middle East on dangerous curse- breaking missions. Their correspondence had died over a few weeks, and he hadn't heard from Cho in over a fortnight.

So tonight, Harry was going to the Yule Ball not with Cho Chang-and the promise of a second chance at finally getting the whole shagging thing right-but with his best mate's little sister. Ginny Weasley.

How the bloody hell did I let that happen? Harry wondered again. Yes, he liked Ginny. Very much in fact. She was smart and funny and rather mischievous, like her older twin brothers, Fred and George. She was also amazing at Quidditch. A real corker at it. But she was also a bit strange. She hung out with Luna Lovegood (who was definitely round the twist), had dated Colin Creevey (who she told Harry one day, out of the blue, had dumped her because she wouldn't go along with his bizarre big toe fetishes), was entirely too caught up in her little girly clubs, wore rather weird clothes (when she wasn't dressed in her school uniform and robes), and to cap it all, she was Ron's little sister.

Harry sighed. It could be worse, he supposed. He could be going with Eloise Midgen, whose acne was acting up badly again. Or Millicent Bulstrode, who even Crabbe and Goyle wouldn't touch.

One thing was certain. Harry was swearing off women. Between Susan yanking out his heart and stomping all over it and then putting it in a meat grinder and spitting into it, and Cho not writing him any more just because he had a wee little problem with premature ejaculation, he was through with the lot of them. At least he and Ginny were friends, of a sort. No worries there.

Harry pulled on his dress robes, ran a hand through his hair, and headed out the door. Time to get this miserable night over with, he thought.


Harry nodded as Ginny droned on and on. Everything was starting to sound like the same empty drone.

"...and you know I wouldn't care about the whole big toe thing if Colin hadn't insisted on using his toe to shag me rather than his-"

"EXCUSE ME?" Harry said, as though he had just been slapped out of a deep sleep.

"Oh," said Ginny. "I was just saying, about Colin and the whole toe thing."

"Colin...used his TOE?"

"No," said Ginny, rolling her eyes. "I mean, I'm a bit kinky and all, but that's just bloody weird."

"Oh," said Harry, shaking his head. They were sitting at a small table in the corner of the room, resting from some vigorous dancing. Ginny was good company, when she wasn't talking a mile a minute.

"So, Harry, are we going to shag soon?" said Ginny, tapping her fingers on the table. "Or should I just call it a night? Because I'm getting a wee bit antsy."

Harry, who had been taking a swig of butterbeer, choked and sprayed his drink down his front.


"I asked you if we were going to shag soon," said Ginny, very slowly, rolling her eyes.

"Uh," said Harry, staring at her. "You're...you're Ron's little sister."

"Yeah, so?"

"Ron would beat me to a pulp if he found out you and me, you know," said Harry, turning very red.

"Ron doesn't have to know," said Ginny. "And anyway, his brain turned to dung ever since he got together with Hermione. Those two are like rabbits. It's a good thing Hermione's got private quarters now she's Head Girl."

"Look, Ginny..."

"We don't have to shag if you don't want to," said Ginny. "I mean, if you're nervous or something-"

"I'm not NERVOUS," said Harry defensively.

"Okay," said Ginny. "I'm just saying, though. We're friends. We've both had our share of bad luck with people of the opposite sex. Why not end the night on a bit of a high note?"

Harry stared at her, but of course the moment she had suggested they shag he had started thinking about it. Ginny WAS rather cute, with her freckles and long red hair and hazel eyes and button nose. He was suddenly very curious to know whether she had freckles all over. He was suddenly overcome with the urge to find out.

"Okay," he said. "But-"

"No strings," said Ginny. "We have a good fuck and tomorrow we go our separate ways. Friends."

Harry nodded, and they left the Yule Ball.

They wound up, to no great surprise for Harry, at the Room of Requirement. This time when they went inside (Harry again wished only for a room with a huge bed in it), they found a room that was painted in various shades of blue, with a big, but not huge, bed in the center and plush carpeting. Not bad, Harry thought. Huge improvement over the heart-shaped bed and the Bibles.

He was just starting to admire the fireplace when Ginny made her move.

Or, more accurately, when Ginny attacked. For someone so petite she nearly bowled him over when she literally jumped on him. Suddenly she was kissing him passionately. Harry had half a mind to tell her to slow down, but then he realized he was desperately randy and that kissing her was rather fun. They stumbled over to the bed and she pushed him down roughly onto it and straddled him.

Harry gulped. She was clearly experienced at this stuff. She leaned over, rubbing against him. He moaned and his pants began to feel tight again. She reached for the buttons of his shirt, but instead of slowly opening them, she gave a huge yank, and his shirt burst open.

"Hey-" he began, but then Ginny was kissing him with her lips and tongue and rubbing against him again.

"Oh, god," he moaned, when she sat up again. She yanked on his belt buckle.

"What's my name?" she growled, in a feral sort of voice. She pulled his belt slowly from the loops of his pants.

"Wha-what?" Harry asked, unable to think.

She snapped the belt viciously on the floor, where it made a huge cracking sound. Harry jumped.

"What's my name, bitch?" Ginny snarled.

"G-Ginny!" Harry yelled. "Ginny!"

She smiled and bit her lip, dropping the belt. Harry had never been so scared, nor so aroused, in his life. He didn't even care that Ginny made him wear two condoms, instead of one, to, as she put it, "help you keep a lid on things for more than five seconds."

The following morning Harry awoke, rather exhausted and bearing a few scratch marks on his chest, to find Ginny gone. For a brief moment he felt a bit dirty; Ginny had rather coldly used him, hadn't she? He had been nothing more than a sex toy to her.

But then he smiled. Harry Potter, sex toy. He rather liked the sound of that.


Author's Note: I'm back. This is pure, unadulterated and very naughty fluff.

The prologue is a flashback, in case anyone's confused.