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SIYE Time:3:11 on 19th March 2024
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Watching Ginny
By Pigwidgeon11

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Category: Post-DH/AB
Characters:All
Genres: Fluff
Warnings: None
Story is Complete
Rating: PG
Reviews: 9
Summary: Otherwise known as "Three Years, Seven Months, Two Weeks, and Six Days." Mindless fluffiness. Harry observes his wife and ponders their perfect love.
Hitcount: Story Total: 5701



Disclaimer: Harry Potter Publishing Rights © J.K.R. Note the opinions in this story are my own and in no way represent the owners of this site. This story subject to copyright law under transformative use. No compensation is made for this work.



Author's Notes:
Not exactly canon (I know, Harry doesn't actually play for a Quidditch team) but pretty close. I think one of their kids actually was born right around this time, so that's good. Mindless fluff, really. Hope you enjoy it! (There aren't really all the characters, but the only options were none or all so I just chose all)




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Harry Potter knew exactly how long he’d been married: three years, seven months, two weeks, and six days. He knew that nine years, one month, one week, and five days ago, Voldemort had been vanquished once and for all. He knew the exact number of seconds it had taken Ginny to start crying after he knelt to propose. He knew that on their wedding day, in the Weasley’s back yard, surrounded by the only people he’d ever known as family, he’d thought she could never be more beautiful. He knew that in his eyes, she grew more beautiful with every passing moment. And he knew that he loved her more than life.

At eight past seven, as tinges of red light crept under the curtains, Harry rolled over to gaze at his wife. Her chest rose and fell with the even, relaxed breathing of a peaceful slumber, and her face was tilted ever so slightly towards him.

Harry watched her as he had every morning for three years, seven months, two weeks, and six days. Just as he had every morning, he longed to reach out and touch the brilliant locks of Weasley hair that curled around her ears and splayed across the pillow. ‘I didn’t think angels could have red hair,’ he mused, just as he had ever morning.

He knew she’d wake in exactly seven minutes, so he cherished her undisturbed beauty. She was something so wonderfully good for him in life. She was the reason — the main reason — he’d killed Voldemort. She was perfect.

Her forehead was rounded just so, perfectly smooth beneath a twirl of marvelous hair. A spray of freckles decorated her brow, tracing its way around her thin eyebrows and increasing as it ran down her nose. Some noses were too long, some too short and upturned, but Ginny’s was ideal. Had she awoken, Harry thought he would have drowned in her eyes, those beautiful brown eyes. Now they were identically angelic, hidden beneath freckled eyelids and tucked in by the longest lashes Harry’d ever seen.

Perfect. She was simply perfect. Her lips — God, he wanted to reach out and touch them, reach out and kiss them — her lips were the color of heaven, a pink so delicate but deep enough to be impudent. A wash of morning sunlight illuminated the pair of lips which drove him mad, whose soft pressure on the side of his neck could cool any temper, whose gentle movements mocked him. She knew, of course. She knew that every time she spoke it sent shivers down his spine. Every breath upon his ear or cheek made him swallow. Every kiss blew his mind. She knew, and she tormented him.

Harry’s heart swelled at the sight of the bulge of pregnancy that showed under Ginny’s nightgown. Three months, and he’d be a father with the most amazing woman in the world.

She shifted slightly, the long, slim fingers of her left hand falling a hair’s breadth from his chest. He pushed himself up, hardly daring to breathe as he glanced at the clock. Less than a minute.

He began to count her freckles. Ten…fifteen…twenty…He’d never made it past thirty, would probably never make it past thirty before the time came when…

The clock on the bedside table flipped to 7:15 and Ginny let out a sigh, eyes fluttering open to meet his. Harry sank slowly back down onto his pillow, smiling at his wife.

Just like she had every morning in the last three years, seven months, two weeks, and six days, Ginny snuggled into him. Breathlessly, he waited to hear what the first words of a brand new day would be.

“Morning, love. Watching me sleep?”

Her voice, thick with slumber, caused his heart to do somersaults that would have shamed any circus performer. But then again, the thought of her had sent his heart racing long before that happy, happy day three years, seven months, two weeks, and six days ago.

“Waiting for you to wake,” he replied, basking in the golden glow he knew as love as he dropped a kiss on her perfect nose.

She gazed up at him with the brown beauties that had secured his love for her, eyes that held just a trace of the innocence of an eleven-year-old girl terrified out of her wits in a chamber far beneath a magical castle. She gazed at him, unblinking, head nestled against his shoulder.

“I love you,” she whispered, such honesty in her voice that Harry knew it meant just as much as it had every day before. “You are a blessing.”

“I love you too,” he murmured, “and you are the only one I would ever bless.”

She smiled, the simplest gesture that told him she understood. “Ron and Hermione are coming over today with the baby. We should get up.”

Ginny slipped from his arms, leaving him to fall reluctantly back onto the bed. She padded into the kitchen, just as she did every morning. Harry wondered idly what this day would bring.

As he swung his legs over the side of the bed, Ginny reappeared in the doorway with her hair pulled back into a long tail. “Come on, lazybones, there’s a match on the radio today. You’ll miss it if you don’t hurry.” Grinning cheekily, she called over her disappearing shoulder, “I enjoy listening to my husband’s team losing without him.”

“Well, just you wait until that baby is born!” Harry called, scooping a pile of clothing from a chair. “I’ll be back on that team in time to take us to the championships!”

Ginny laughed and strode outside to pick up the paper. Chuckling, Harry carried the clothes into the bathroom. He could hear Ginny humming over the sizzle of bacon as she laid the paper out for him. And he smiled, just as he did every morning.

Voldemort was gone, Hogwarts was rebuilt, Sirius was really dead. Many things were changing, but Harry Potter’s love for Ginny Weasley Potter was just not one of them.
Reviews 9
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