Still befuddled from lack of much needed sleep, Harry had enough wits about him when Ginny had dragged him out of his bed at Grimmauld to wonder about her odd attire.  Why she would be wearing a Muggle trenchcoat indoors on a warm April night was a mystery.  Why she was dragging him half dressed down the stairs to the kitchen was another.

By the time he could put words together, she’d begun sorting through the contents of a tiny cupboard in the back of the pantry.  “Gin, what are we…where are we….I mean I’m glad to see you and all, but why……” 

“Harry, we’ve got a mission to do, so don’t ask too many questions.  Hermione’s come up with an excellent spell to hurt Tom, and I need you, or actually, you need me, to be able to do it.”

“But, why aren’t you at school?”

“Apparated silly.  The Ministry’s not checking anymore.  And it had to be tonight.  We need the moon. Aha!”  She pulled out a tiny vial of some liquid that Harry thought looked suspiciously like blood, rammed it into her pocket, and then grabbed a hold of his hand again.

And without any preamble, Harry felt the stomach twisting sensation of Apparition, as Ginny side-Apparated him to some unknown destination.

It was the last place he would have suspected.

The sight of the cemetery outside of Little Hangleton that had plagued his nightmares for so long woke him up and set him on instant alert, a rush of adrenaline filling him with fear and anger.  Seeing no immediate threat, he spun on Ginny, and held his wand out at her.

“Who are you, damn it?”

She rolled her eyes, and unbuckled the belt of the trenchcoat.  “Ginny Weasley, your girlfriend, you prat.  We made love for the first time the night after my sixteenth birthday, in the grass outside the orchard.  I never could get the grass stains off that dress.”

She opened the coat, and let it slip off her arms and onto the hard, cold ground below.  She surveyed her surrounding with a clinical eye and Harry stared hard at what she had revealed.  Adrenaline surged in a completely new fashion as he took note of the short white slip that barely reached her thighs and the sheer material that puckered with her nipples in the cool night air.  He finally noticed that she was barefoot, and the miles of pale freckled skin on her arms and legs seemed luminescent in the light of the full moon.  He swallowed audible, deprived again of the power of speech and the ability to think properly as his blood supply rapidly changed course.

“There is was.  That’s where he first set foot.”

She walked, well….Harry was in a bit of an odd mood, so he really thought she rather floated over to a spot on the ground need Tom Riddle Sr’s headstone.  A brief flicker of tension ripped through his gut at the memory of being tied to the stone, and he swore he could feel an echo of pain in the long scar on his arm. 

He tried to shake off his sexual befuddlement and ask a coherent question about this bizarre situation.  “How do you know where…”

She was biting her lip, staring at the ground, as she cut him off mid-sentence.  “Pensieve Harry.  Hermione’s got that Pensieve of all your Voldie memories.  That how we worked this bit out.”

“Worked what bit out!?”  He hadn’t meant to shout, and immediately he glanced around, sure that they would be set upon by Death Eaters any moment.

“Don’t worry Harry.  We already thoroughly combed the site.  No one is here.  There’s a silencing and concealment spell already in place, the best Tonks and Hermione could cast.”  She bent over and ran a hand over the ground, revealing the lower curve off her beautiful bum, and Harry felt the power of rational thought begin to leave him again.

With a last struggle, he croaked out, “Why are we here Ginny?”

She smiled.  That slow, sexy, evil smile that she had whenever she was plotting.  That smile that said he was in deep trouble.

“The Blacks had some very interesting books Harry.  Some of the texts on sex magic were very very informative.”

Sex magic?  How could the collar of a pajama top feel tight?

“Hermione find a fascinating spell for defeating poltergeists with an act of true love.  She thinks it might help to weaken Tom’s current physical form, given how he was brought back.”

His blood ran cold, as his experience with “acts of true love” involved sacrifice of extraordinary magnitude….

Ginny notice his expression, and was instantly contrite.  “No, nothing like that Harry.  We just have to make love.”

He shook his head in confusion.  “Huh?”

The evil smile was back.  “Fuck, rut, have intercourse, as Hermione kept putting it.”

He grimaced.  “Oh, don’t mention Hermione and sex in the same sentence.”

“What, don’t you and Ron every compare notes?”

His eyes bugged out, “Are you nutters?  You are his sister!  He’d vomit, and then beat me about the head with something sharp.”

She rolled her eyes.  “Just come here Harry.”

He crept forward until they were toe to toe, and she reached up to grip his hair in her hands and pull him down to kiss her.  Surprisingly quickly, he lost himself completely in her kisses, as his brain simply enjoyed the feel of her soft lips and the taste of her agile tongue.  He moaned as she pulled away from his mouth, and started running kisses down his throat.  Somehow, his pajama top melted off, and before he could submit any protest as to the inappropriateness of the location, his pajama bottoms had been pulled over his stubbornly erect cock, and the warmth smooth velvet of Ginny’s mouth engulfed him, her tongue teasing the skin pushed back around his glans, and he closed his eyes and allowed himself to forget the horrors of where his stood and bask in his girlfriend’s long absent attentions.  He was still a randy young man, and it had been months since he’d last felt her touch.

As he grew closer and closer to losing control completely, a different side of Harry Potter woke up, and the monster in his chest let loose a growl as he gripped silky red hair and dragged Ginny up to meet his kiss.  If she was so bloody insistent on having sex in a ruddy cemetery, then she would have the best bloody shag he could manage!

His long fingered hands gripped her arse, and hauled her up against his erection, and she gasped into his mouth and wrapped her legs around his thighs.  He fell forward onto his knees, and she leaned back, sitting on his thighs while he bent and took a hardened nipple into his mouth through the thin cotton of the teasing slip.  She let out a whimper that ran straight through his aching cock and then ground herself up against him, demanding that he give her want what wanted, namely him inside her.

“Now Harry!  I’m ready.”  She was breathless, hot and panting and erotic as hell.

“Well I’m not, so shut your gob and let a man work.”  He let her slip back on to the ground, and hooked her knees over his bare shoulders as he pushed his glasses up into his hair.  Then he plunged into her scent, lapping at the soft red folds of her sex, feeling her grow wetter and wetter as he teased her clit, nipped at her labia, and thrust his tongue into her entrance, until he could feel her legs shaking and her cries ring out into the brightly lit night.

He kept at it, until she pushed on his head and snapped out a demand for, “Now Potter!”

He gave her a wet grin, and held her legs at his shoulder while he rose up to kneeling and then positioned his cock.  Knowing that he would suffer if he teased her anymore, he thrust into her hard, and swore as her back bowed hard and her muscles clenched around him.

“Merlin Harry, you’re so hard!”  She whimpered again, her hips thrusting up against him, eager to keep him deep inside.

He grunted with the effort of not coming immediately, “It’s been months Gin….and you taste too damn good.”  He leaned forward to kiss her, and her legs slipped down, wrapping around his waist as they exchanged a wet, sloppy and utterly satisfying kiss. 

Although this position wasn’t as deep, they needed the closeness, the connection of being face to face, chest to chest as he thrust hard into her.  Her hands clutched his arse, driving him forward as her lips fell across his face, his ear, his neck.  She whispered in a tense, tight voice perched on the cusp of release, “I love you, Harry.”  He shuttered, unable to hold back the wave of emotion or the wave of sensation that flooded his body.

“Love you…. love you so much.”  He collapsed on top of her as she shuttered with her own release, the last quivering of her orgasm squeezing the last drops from him.  As his breathing slowed and fatigue set in, he remembered that they were on the bare earth of a graveyard, probably disturbing the dead with their cries of passion.

“So, Gin, what the hell was this about then?”

She opened brown eyes still darkened with passion and took a deep breath, pushing him off her in a strangely businesslike fashion.  As he lay on his back, he watched in puzzled fascination as she sat up straight and jiggled around a bit, then reach a hand down and thrust it inside herself, pulling her fingers out and shaking them, the copious fluids dripping to the ground.  They she twisted away, reaching for the trenchcoat and retrieving the vial she’d retrieved from Grimmauld.  She uncapped it, and the drops fell down on the ground, sinking into the dirt along with all the other assorting liquids from their coupling.

Harry sat up and tilted his head, questioning his lover’s sanity.  She raised her eyes to him, and with a solemnity that could not be denied, said simply, “I love you, Harry.”

His reply was immediate.  “I love you too, Ginevra.”  After a smile reappeared on her face, he felt he had to ask.  “What was in that vial, Ginny?”

She blushed, pink even in the silver moonlight.  “Umm…well, witches save there blood, you know…from when….virgin’s blood is a power potion ingredient.  And I am a seventh child, so mine would be particularly valuable.  Fred and George offered me load of Galleons….”

“They what!”  He paled at the thought of what the Weasley brothers would do to him since he deflowered their baby sister….

“Harry, Fred and George helped me buy the dress I wore that night.  I think they realized what it would be for, luv.”

He gulped in response, still expected retribution at some point.  “Was that….”

“It was part of the spell….we’re not certain if it will work as well as if I had really been a virgin, but….”

“I can’t believe you and Hermione planned this all out!”  He was still unnerved at the thought of his rather prissy best friend being quite so involved in his sex life.

“Well, you performed marvelously my dear.  I thought I’d have to work a lot harder to keep you…well, to keep you hard.  I think cemeteries must quite turn you on. ”

He shuddered.  “Not bloody likely!”  He paused considering for a moment.  “Still, I think we should go back to Grimmauld, and you can try working to keep me hard, again.”

“You randy bugger!”  She blushed and smiled.

He waggled his eyebrows a bit and stood, pulling on his abused pajama pants and extending a hand to his lovely girlfriend.  “But I’m your randy bugger.”

She kissed the tip of his nose.  “Always, Harry Potter.”

Far away, in a cold marble throne room in a vast manor house, Tom Riddle Junior screamed in pain as his corporeal form crumpled in on itself, leaving him with nothing of the twisted infant form he had endured for months before that blasted Wormtail had managed to perform his embodiment ceremony.  Somehow, Potter had managed to reverse one of the most powerful dark spells ever devised, and Voldemort would secretly live in abject terror of this unknown power until he faced his death at Harry Potter’s hands.