She's nervous, Harry realised, looking at her red face. Ginny Weasley is nervous. She almost reminded him of when she was a little girl, that bashful thing that ducked away whenever he was near. "I love you. Not them - you," Harry told her with a smile, tracing a hand down her arm. He gently lifted her head and cradled her face, kissing her sweetly, lightly, before slowly opening his lips and stroking her tongue with his own. This, he knew. This, Harry could do. That thing with beds and lovers - that, he wasn't sure, but this he could do.
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