This is a piece of nonsense that will hopefully make you laugh! JKR would NEVER do this to her characters I'm sure! Dedicated to all of you who share my sock fetish… Socks, Sex and Snape
Harry Potter stood alone, half-hidden in an alcove, some way along the Transfiguration corridor. He checked his watch impatiently for the third time in as many minutes, and peered around the suit of armour and down the corridor once more. Where on earth was she? Surely she couldn't have got detention with McGonagall again. Admittedly, she found the work easy, but that would make it the fourth one this month. He sighed in exasperation, but knowing full well that Ginny definitely hadn't left with the rest of the sixth years, and leaned back against the wall to wait, with as much patience as he could muster.
Bright sunshine streamed through the chequered panes of glass along the hallway, creating patterns along the floor as the beams distorted into elongated lengths, that stretched across the carpet, and touched the walls on the opposite side. Harry prodded the carpet restlessly with his foot, and finding that didn't soothe his frazzled nerves, he began to pace within the confines of the little space he occupied. Suddenly, he heard the lilt of a certain voice, which made his stomach quiver with anticipation, and a swift glance around the trusty suit of armour revealed the truth of the matter. A slight figure, wearing her vibrantly red hair twisted neatly into a knot, stood in the doorway talking vivaciously to Professor McGonagall and gesticulating wildly in the manner he adored. Even from this distance, Harry knew from two years experience of interpreting her moods that at least she hadn't got detention. He heaved a sigh of relief and began to grin wickedly once more.
Wand in hand, he waited. Professor McGonagall smiled and nodded at Ginny, before returning to her classroom; Ginny swung her bag casually over her shoulder and headed happily down the now deserted corridor towards Gryffindor Tower. Harry's grin widened as she unknowingly passed by him, and before she had got more than a few steps further, he cast a simple spell.
He heard her gasp of astonishment, as she was magically lifted from her feet and transported rapidly into his arms, as if attracted to him like a magnet.
"Oh it's you," she smiled fondly, stretching up and wrapping her arms around his neck, and carelessly playing with the little hairs there, sending prickles of desire down his spine.
"Who else would it be?" Harry chuckled throatily, drawing her backwards into the shadows. "Don't tell me other people do this to you all the time."
"Well, there was that one time when…" Ginny began, her eyes twinkling mischievously, but Harry wasn't listening. His lips suddenly met hers with a forceful longing, fingers frantically pulling the pin out from her hair, letting it cascade wildly around her, his hand tangled up in the thickness of it, loving the feel of her against him, filling his every sense. A soft moan escaped from her, making the blood pound in his ears. Feeling his back press against the wall, he pulled her ever closer to him, acutely aware of her small hands slowly beginning to explore, to caress, and to produce nerve endings on his body where there had been none before.
"Gin," he whispered breathlessly, returning the urgent kisses, the demand for more.
"Have you got much homework tonight?"
She broke free from him and looked up, her dark brown eyes almost black with desire, breathing shallow and uneven.
"Nothing that can't wait," she whispered, her eyes still fused with his. "Why?"
"Do you want to?" he murmured, raising his eyebrow at her, before tracing a lightly fluttering trail of kisses down to that sensitive spot at the base of her neck, making her shiver with pleasure.
"Harry," she gasped. "You keep that up, and I'll pin you down right here and now."
"That'll be a bit of a shock for anyone going past," he chuckled in her ear. "But I'm game if you are."
She laughed, and slapped him affectionately. Reluctantly she pulled herself away from him and twitched her robes straight.
"Tonight, then?" she said, eyes alight with anticipation. "Shall I see you in the Common Room, or shall we meet up the same as last time?"
"I think it'd better not be like last time," Harry teased, with a devilish grin.
The colour rushed into her cheeks at the memory, but her eyes sparkled and a low chuckle erupted. There was absolutely no danger whatsoever of either of them forgetting that experience in a hurry, and Harry, for one, thought it might be prudent to avoid that particular broom cupboard on the fourth floor for the foreseeable future. It was typical of their relationship to be the total opposite to everyone else's; the first time they had ever had sex was wonderful, yet subsequent forays into parts of the school, for a bit of privacy in the dead of night, had met with rather mixed results.
On the last night in question, things had just been getting very interesting indeed, when the cupboard door had clicked open, despite the locking spell Ginny had cast on it. Harry was eternally grateful that Ginny had considerably more presence of mind than he did, and actually managed to throw the invisibility cloak over then like a blanket, concealing them from the intruder. He could remember it in vivid detail: the desperate attempt to control his unsteady, rasping breaths, the violent thudding of his heart, as they lay entwined together, too afraid to move. Footsteps coming ever nearer, some rummaging, and something was removed from the shelves not far from their feet. Further little steps, which Ginny had told him later belonged to one of the House Elves, followed by the gentle closing of the door. The sense of relief they felt to escape undetected was immense, but rather short lived. The House Elf, as is the nature of the very creatures, had neatly and tidily gathered together their clothing from where it had been strewn in their haste, and taken it away with her. To Harry's total mortification, his clothes simply appeared on his bed the following day, neatly laundered and pressed, and no comment was ever made about it.
"I am never going to forget that expression on your face," Ginny giggled wickedly, remembering the ensuing horror, and subsequent hilarity, at having to make their way back to Gryffindor Tower with nothing but the invisibility cloak to hide their modesty.
"Thank heavens for towels in the Prefects' bathroom," Harry laughed, turning rather red himself. "I think the Fat Lady would've had a heart attack if I'd had to step out of the cloak completely starkers to give her the password."
Tears of laughter rolled down Ginny's cheeks, and she hugged him tightly.
"It's worth it though," he said, kissing her deeply. "Leave it to me. I'll think of somewhere safer for tonight."
"Perfect," she whispered, beginning to twist her hair back up into its pleat, and then pinning it securely. "Come on. I'm ravenous and it's dinner now."
"What did McGonagall want?" Harry asked her curiously, as she slid her hand into his and they strolled down the corridor.
"Oh, she had a bit of a proposition for me," she grinned at him. "I think it's a plan to keep me out of trouble, to tell you the truth. I'm going to do my N.E.W.T.s in Transfiguration this year with you lot, and then she says I can work on becoming an Animagus next year, instead of the regular seventh year stuff."
"You're kidding?" Harry asked in sheer astonishment.
"No," she laughed. "It sounds great, doesn't it?"
"That's incredible, Ginny," he said, smiling proudly at her. "Y'know, maybe I should get you to teach me sometime. My dad was one, and I think I'd like that."
"Definitely," she replied, sneaking another swift kiss before they entered the Great Hall.
Harry glanced up from his chess game with Ron, unable to keep his eyes off Ginny for long. A warm feeling spread out, across the upper part of his chest, and steadily flowed through every inch of him as he absorbed her image. He watched her shake that glorious mane of hair free from the daily restrictions that she now imposed upon it, despite his protests. The multitude of colours danced in the candlelight, as it fell and then swung to stillness once more. She crossed her very orange feet on the table, making him idly wonder whose socks she was wearing today, and continued to read her book, completely oblivious to his rapt attention.
Harry smiled to himself. He loved her with every ounce of his being, and it amazed him each and every day that she could possibly feel the same way. All the same, it was incredibly frustrating that they couldn't spend the night together in the way they wanted. Quite aside from their encounter with the House Elf, there had been another disastrous occasion when they had sneaked out of Gryffindor Tower in the dead of night, down to one of the Muggle Studies classrooms. A particularly passionate clinch had resulted in them becoming so totally unaware of anything else, that they'd collided with one of the tall bookcases, sending it crashing violently to the ground. They'd had to flee that time as well, to escape the wrath of Filch and Mrs Norris, pulling their clothes back on as they went. And then, worst of all, there was the time when… Harry felt himself flushing fiercely at the very thought of that incident.
"Your move," Ron said, interrupting his thoughts, and looking curiously at his best friend. "Are you OK?"
"Yeah," Harry muttered vaguely, and moved his rook a few paces, entirely oblivious to what that tactic would do to his game plan. It had obviously done something interesting, because Ron bent his head over the board again and rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
Harry stared back across at Ginny, who this time caught his eye and smiled at him with a very intimate and knowing expression, making his pulse begin to race in anticipation. The question was where should he take her? Hogwarts was enormous, and technically they should be able to find a multitude of solitary places, but certain factors made it very difficult. Locked doors never deterred the ghosts, for example, so they had to be well away from the usual areas they haunted. The thought of Peeves drifting in and catching them made Harry shudder. Not to mention that the news would be broadcast loudly within seconds in that loud cackling voice of his, and if they were really unlucky he'd probably make up a rude rhyme about it as well.
"Potter always looks at her
With expression so salacious.
I don't blame him, not one bit,
She's really quite delicious."
Much as Ginny loved poetry, Harry seriously doubted that she'd appreciate the literary merits of such a thing, and besides, Ron had no idea what they were up to and he'd probably have an apoplectic fit if confronted by the little poltergeist singing something like that about his best friend and little sister. Harry's mind ran riot over what Peeves could do with phrases like 'flagrante delicto,' and blushed even more deeply, his cheeks now radiating more warmth than the common room fire.
"What is up with you?" Ron asked incredulously, watching Harry move his knight to a square in direct line of fire from Ron's bishop.
"Nothing," Harry asserted, rather too forcibly for it to ring true. "Just not concentrating, I suppose."
Time ticked by agonisingly slowly, and Harry was still racking his brains without any success whatsoever, until Hermione unwittingly came up with a miraculous answer when she returned from the library.
"Hi there," she grinned at the pair of them, and dropping her heavy bag on the floor with a thud, she settled beside Ron and sighed heavily.
"Bad day?" Ron asked her sympathetically, as she wriggled up against him. His voice took on a teasing tone as he added, "Well, if you must be Head Girl, I suppose these things are going to happen."
"Oh, they've been adding an extension to the library, and I've been helping with the books," she said, sounding absolutely exhausted, but quite excited by the idea at the same time. "I've never seen wizard building before, you know. Dumbledore said we could create a couple of new study rooms for the sixth and seventh years off the main part of the library, and I've just been stocking the shelves in there with books. It'll be great. Imagine all the work we can do without all the younger ones disturbing us."
"Can't wait," Ron said, with a tinge of sarcasm. Then his eyes lit up. "Although," he said slowly, a smile spreading across his face, "It might be a good idea; it'll give us more privacy when we're working down there."
Harry grinned wickedly. It certainly did sound perfect, especially as he knew that the library was always completely deserted from about midnight onwards. Just the thing.
The flames flickered energetically in the fireplace, casting lively rays of light through the darkness, but the circular common room was devoid of other signs of life. Harry had pretended to go to sleep earlier in the dormitory, the scarlet drapes were firmly closed around his four-poster bed, so that none of the others would suspect his absence. Wrapped in his invisibility cloak, he crept stealthily back downstairs. He didn't have to wait long. A rapid patter of footsteps on the stairs heralded the arrival of the woman he loved, her long red hair swirling tempestuously around her and as he watched, he felt a surge of longing filling his heart.
"Gin," he whispered hoarsely, swiftly pulling the hood of the cloak down so she could see where he was. "Over here."
She enveloped herself in the folds of the cloak, and squeezed closely to him so she disappeared from view completely to the outside world. His arms slid instinctively around her, and their lips frantically sought each other out, with a desperate sense combining love and lust and longing. The warm moisture of her mouth, the sensation of her breath lightly brushing across his skin made Harry forget the existence of everything but her. His hands roamed freely, wanting to know and explore and love every inch of her, but she caught his hands in hers.
"Not here," she whispered breathlessly. "I don't think that's such a good idea."
"Library, then," he murmured in her ear, holding tightly to one of her hands. And without another word, they slid through the portrait hole and silently hurried along the corridors and down sets of staircases until they rounded the corner that led to the newly extended library.
It was almost pitch black inside the large wood panelled room. The candles had all been extinguished for the night, and the only source by which they could see was a little moonlight trickling through the window, giving a bluish tinge to the darkness. Towering stacks of books lined the room, and usually seemed to be looming ominously over them, but tonight neither Harry, nor Ginny, took any notice of them. The extra study rooms were quickly located, and they locked themselves in the furthest one.
"Now then, Miss Weasley," Harry grinned at her as he pulled the cloak off them, and moved with her to a secluded spot behind a set of shelving. "Where were we?"
"About here, I think," she giggled softly, before kissing him once more and enveloping them both in a world of spectacular fireworks and deepest velvety darkness.
A little while later, she freed her mouth briefly from his, and giggled.
"I keep thinking about that elf," she admitted, breathing unsteady and her eyes glistening through the darkness. "I keep thinking she's going to come and take our clothes again."
Harry grinned down at her, seeing her hair tousled all over the floor is every direction, and bent to nuzzle into the sensitive spot on her neck, making her purr with pleasure.
"Got an idea," he said, voice muffled against her skin. He reached for his wand, and waved it at their discarded items:
Suddenly the clothing was magically lifted from both shelving and floor and whirled into mid-air, vanishing as it neared the ceiling.
"What did you do?" Ginny asked in astonishment.
"The spell's concealed them," Harry chuckled. "Still there, just invisible."
"Very clever," she whispered, rolling over to kiss him again. "I'm impressed."
Suddenly, they heard a noise, and they both froze. Harry could feel the muscles in her back tauten under his hand, and they held their breath, listening to the silence, which thickened around them. A footfall. There was someone out there. Harry groaned inwardly. This couldn't be happening again. He reached for the cloak. It was gone. The panic flooded through him, as he suddenly realised that it must be up on the ceiling with everything else, and to release that would be to release everything. Ginny had seen his frantic expression and understood, her eyes widening in horror. The footsteps were coming nearer, and with a last desperate glance at Harry, Ginny turned her wand on herself, and transfigured easily into a paint pot, nestled amongst the others littering the floor from Filch's decorating earlier in the day. Harry felt a good deal less secure about doing transfiguration, but what other option did he have? The door handle turned. Concentrating with all his might, he changed shape into a leather bound tome, leaning casually against the end of the shelving.
A distinctive shape strolled into the room, candle in his hand, casting the hooked nose and greasy black hair of the Potions Master into clearly into view. Harry didn't dare think of anything other than remaining a book. His transfiguration was shaky at the best of times, unlike Ginny, who could transform for hours on end. The last thing he needed right now was to pop back into his regular shape.
"Think book," he repeated to himself.
Snape had passed the paint pots and was stooping ever lower towards the spot where Harry was. His bony finger traced the legends along the spines of the books, clearly searching for something. Harry held his breath. Snape paused, looking right at him, and tapped him sharply, giving a snort of disgust under his breath.
"'The Rise and Fall of Harry Potter,'" he read in quietly scornful tones. "As if that boy isn't big headed enough already." Harry kept perfectly still, and Snape moved on, grasping a volume from further down the row and pulling it out of the stack. Harry would have been seething in fury, had it not been for the sight of the blue pot of paint turning very steadily into a fetching shade of red.
Snape flicked through the pages, and turned to go. He was a metre away from the door, when he uttered a cry of surprise as something hurtled from the ceiling and caught him between the eyes. Harry craned as far as he could to see, almost falling off the shelf in his efforts.
"How very interesting," Snape muttered to himself, picking up the projectile from the floor and examining it in candlelight. The socks were clearly visible, and the orange of the Chudley Cannons shone vibrantly in the half-light, broomstick on one sock and a cannon ball flying across the other. "Weasley," Snape said, looking around, as if expecting to see Ron right there behind him. "This wasn't here earlier. He's been down here after hours tonight, no doubt with Granger. Well, we shall see about that." He stalked purposefully out, and the door clicked shut behind him.
There was a very long pause.
Ginny reappeared looking extremely flushed, and Harry fought his way out of the confines of the bookshelf, reaching for her, to reassure her. She bit her lip with a mixture of horror and mischievous delight playing across her face.
"Ron's never going to let me steal his socks again," Ginny whispered. She giggled a little, and glanced impishly up at Harry. "So, do you know of any good books I can read tonight?