Harry Potter Seven Causes

**Story title: Seven Causes**

**Part 1/1**

**Disclaimer: I want them. But then, again, I want many things. Sadly, they are not mine. ****No infringement is intended, and I'm not making any money out of this.**

_All human actions have as their basis one or more of these seven causes: chance, nature, compulsion, habit, reason, passion, and desire._

It was mere chance that I met her, all those years ago. Young, and alone, I quickly swallowed my pride to ask for instructions to Platform 9 ¾ to the first person that wouldn't freak out when I asked. And that's where I met Mrs. Weasley, who not only pointed me to the right direction, but also introduced me to a young boy who would come to be my best friend.

Standing on tiptoe behind him, brown eyes boring into me, was a small girl with bright red hair and the warmest smile I'd ever seen.

Ginny Weasley.

I could have asked someone else for directions. I could have waited until they had all stepped through, and tried my luck. I could have let shyness take over me and said absolutely nothing. But I asked and found myself a friend, a family …and a girl with a smile that warmed my heart.

And so chance brought us together that day, even if I didn't pay much attention to chance at the time. I was a bit of a daft prick, I'll admit, for it took me six years to really notice her again, in the same way I had noticed her that first time.

But when I did, let's just say nature took over.

I was a boy, she was a girl, and I, for one, understood how those two things complimented each other. So while Ron spent long afternoons trying to understand Hermione's behavior, I let myself fantasize over Ginny Weasley, and how bright red hair would look against dark as we lay in a close embrace, always careful to hide my thoughts from my two best friends.

Sometimes I think Hermione noticed, but I think she was too busy dealing with her own daft prick to really trouble herself with me, for she never said a thing. One time, I even thought Ron noticed, but I see now that I was merely giving Ron too much credit at the time. He didn't even notice what he had in front of him; it wasn't very likely that he was going to notice something I tried very hard to suppress.

It was then that nature led the way to compulsion. Because with every second I spent thinking about Ginny, wondering how her soft hands would feel against mine, and imagining how she would feel pressed up against me, the more I wanted to send every concern, every doubt and all the reasons I'd drawn up to prove that this wasn't a good idea to hell.

The more I thought about her, the more I wanted her.

My urge didn't diminish with time, as I'd first thought. It got stronger with every moment we spent together and became more painful when we were apart. And somehow it stopped being something about the male nature, and it became something more.

It was when I started contemplating how beautiful she probably looked when she was sleeping, that I realized the time to do something about these feelings had passed me by. And so I gathered up my courage, something I swear Ron still hasn't managed to do, and talked to her.

She wasn't the blushing, stammering little girl I'd met, but Ginny Weasley still smiled brightly when I stumbled through a confession of my feelings and I suddenly found out with careful precision what exactly it felt like to have her pressed up against me.

I found out a couple more things with time, too. I learned about the soft touch of her lips and the delightful tickle of her tongue as she explored my neck. I understood that in women, softness is appreciated in places where in men, it's not. I noticed that she would tremble when I touched her, and my hands would tremble with her as I explored her softness.

She became a part of me, something I couldn't live without.

And suddenly it became a habit to wait for her to come down every morning before heading to breakfast. It became natural to clasp her small hand in mine as we walked, and to help her with homework before curling up with her in an armchair and staring at the fire.

Being together became a habit.

I can't really say it was a bad habit. It wasn't that she changed my life, as much as it was that she became a part of it. When before it was merely Harry, we became an entity, the 'Harry and Ginny' entity, as she liked to call us. Suddenly I wasn't alone; I was part of something, two halves of a whole.

When I left school, things started to get complicated. While before I had all the time in the world to be with Ginny, now we were reduced to Hogsmade weekends, and daily letters. The habits I'd counted on were broken, and reason reared its ugly head.

I started thinking of a future together, where she wasn't only my girlfriend, but my wife, and I didn't have to rely on stolen kisses and then yearn for her form pressed against mine as I went to bed.

Where she would be allowed to stay the night and her hands and mine would move slowly, exploring each other at our leisure. And then we would lay together, hearts beating as one as we slept, locked in an embrace.

Reason won out in the end, of course. Hermione would say it always does. And while my two best friends were still just discovering what love could be, Ginny and I were reveling in the fullness of a love that had grown with time, and was now ready to savor the fruits.

It wasn't a grand event. We didn't really want it to be so, and Mrs. Weasley's complaints to the contrary didn't sway us. For too long I had been the hero of the wizarding world, and the attention had become rather uncomfortable after fifth year, so we agreed to a simple ceremony, surrounded by the people we loved most.

In the end, it was for the best. I don't think it could have been any more special had we been surrounded by thousands of people. Our celebration of love, as it was, was something we didn't feel the need to share with everyone else.

Ron was my best man, of course. I didn't really think of anyone else. He was just getting over the awkwardness of being with Hermione, and he couldn't really tease me for my nervousness without getting teased in return, so I got off easy. Bill did try to give me a talk about how to treat his little sister, but in the festive mood the threatening tone was kind of lost. Can't say I missed it.

It wasn't until later, when all the formalities had been taken care of, that I truly discovered passion. I caught a glimpse of it when I first saw Ginny in her wedding gown, but it got swept away by tenderness and love as we said our wedding vows.

Later, once we were alone together, it finally came back.

It swept through me with force as she stepped out of the white gown and stood in front of me attired in little lace undergarments that seemed taken right out of my fantasies, and when her hands touched mine I felt my skin burn with need.

Slowly I reached up and cupped her cheek, and soon our soft lips met, tongues dancing as we let the passion inflame us. There was no holding back as hands met bare skin and stroked, exploring, teasing, savoring.

"Ginny," I whispered softly between kisses, an affirmation, nothing more. My hands clasped her shoulders tightly as I moved onto her neck and tasted her skin. She moaned, an earthy sound that made my heart skip a beat as her hands unfastened the clasps of my robes.

Soon, skin met skin in a tantalizing tangle, and robes were discarded, undergarments forgotten as we rolled around, meshed together in a rhythm that was wholly ours.

And when we lay together afterwards, as I stared into her peaceful face, I knew desire for the first time, the desire to hold this woman for the rest of my life.

Seven causes, indeed.

_The End_

_A/N: So, that's a quote by Aristotle at the start. Yes, Aristotle. Don't ask. you don't want to know what goes inside the mind of a law student. Anyway, this is for Tosca, who asked for something that somehow mutated into this. Enjoy!_


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Harry Potter, Romance