Hinny. First time during HBP. For anon.)
Ginny Weasley was his first and he was perfectly comfortable telling people that. Well, when he did. It wasn’t like Harry Potter went around performing a choreographed song and dance routine about the night that he’d lost his virginity.
It was his sixth year. Wounds were still fresh from when he’d lost his great uncle and the possibility of having a real family haunted his sleep.
She was like a cooling balm rubbed into a furious burn. Ginny Weasley was exactly what he needed at the time.
Unlike Cho, Ginny was the perfect mix of friend and a lover. Her smile set his heart on fire and she could have him rolling about the floor in stitches in seconds. Not to mention they both absolutely loved Qudditch and could spend hours on end talking about the captivating sport.
Sure, his affection had definitely been growing for quite some time but Harry hadn’t realized it until he couldn’t have the red headed girl of his dreams. But he’d ended up with her in the long run. It seemed as if Harry had captured her heart years before the skilled chaser had caught the metaphorical quaffle called Harry’s heart.
Everything had to be perfect, from the scented candles to the scattered flower petals. Never roses. Ginny absolutely hated roses.
Oddly enough, Harry decided the perfect setting for both the novices to share in was the Qudditch field. It was the only place where they both felt entirely free.
On the pitch, Harry was no longer the chosen one and Ginny was no longer the only girl in a large family. Expectations disappeared and it was just them- their souls stripped naked for only a select few to gaze at.
He’d gone above and beyond to make the setting perfect for his girlfriend. Candles floated everywhere and petals littered the usually soft, springy grass of the field. The candles set a light, romantic hue on the pitch as Harry lovingly guided her over.
The nervous expression on her face was readable and Harry honestly couldn’t blame Ginny. This was a huge step in their relationship and he would definitely be sure to ask her if she was sure a million times before he finally entered her.
Their lips found one another’s in the familiar, hot snogs. Hands found places they’d never explored before as the clothing slowly disappeared from the teenagers forms.
The evening was fairly cold, but the heat of their hands, mouths and stares kept their bodies warm and the fire burning merrily in their bellies.
Kissing her hard, Harry murmured the customary, “Are you sure? It’s okay if you’re not.” To her. Over and over. Each time, her reply was the same.
“Yes. Yes. Yes.” Her yes’s turned from agreements to loud, ecstatic moans as their bodies moved together and grass, dirt and flower petals settled its way in her fiery locks.