|SIYE Time:22:12 on 28th June 2017|
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Genres: Fluff, General, Romance
Warnings: Intimate Sexual Situations, Mental Abuse, Mild Sexual Situations, Sexual Situations, Spouse/Adult/Child Abuse, Violence/Physical Abuse
Story is Complete
Summary: After a bad day at work on a stressful case, Harry is doubting his career choice. Lucky Ginny is there to remind him of his wonderfulness.
Hitcount: Story Total: 956
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.
Hi, it's been awhile, but I'm back with a fluffy, sexy one shot of our fave witch and wizard. Apologies for the old joke at the end. Enjoy xx
Harry exited the Floo at Grimmauld Place and cursed when he stumbled, as he was prone to do. He righted himself, before realising his Auror robes were all twisted, and with yet another angry word, he flung his robes off and threw them over the chair, then flung himself down on the sofa. He rubbed his tired eyes under his glasses.
Sometimes he really hated his job. He'd joined the Aurors after the battle, choosing to accept Kingsley's offer rather than return to Hogwarts for his last year. For the most part he liked it, the physical training, the camaraderie, the testing of new skills and the variety of cases each day brought. But then there would be days like today — days that brought up a lot of bad memories.
Harry and his partner, Pete, along with a member of the Child and Youth's Magical Protection Services, had gone along to a home, where neighbours had reported shouting and what sounded like hitting, and a child crying and begging for help. The man of the house, a large brute of a man, had not been particularly welcoming, and not helpful at all. Only Harry's determination, and a warrant to confirm they had the right to search the premises, allowed them entry.
A meek witch with a black eye was in the run down kitchen, stirring a pot. When Harry and his team announced themselves, she began weeping, practically begging for help. The man threatened her and her freak daughter, a comment that made Harry see red. Only the intervention of his partner stopped Harry from crossing the line in his duties. In a cold voice, trying to keep his temper in check, Harry had demanded to know where the daughter, Hazel, was. The weeping woman pointed to the attic. With a nod to his partner, Harry shot up the stairs while his partner took away the bully of a man.
She was cowered in the corner, shivering and rubbing her arms as she tried to keep warm on this cold night. She squealed in fright as Harry approached, but his gentle tone soothed her.
“Hazel, I'm not here to hurt you. My name is Harry and I'm an Auror. Please, won't you come downstairs, your mummy is worried about you,” he said gently.
The little girl shook her head. “Max will hit Mummy again, and it will be all my fault. I didn't mean to do magic, honest.” She began to cry.
“Max has been taken away, and won't bother you or mummy again, I promise. Hazel, you did nothing wrong, sweetheart, your magic is a gift, it's part of who you are. Here, this is Linda, she will help you and mummy find a nice place to live where you'll be safe,” Harry said, moving aside so she could see the other woman.
Linda moved closer to Harry, so Hazel could see her. “Hello Hazel. What Harry said is true, I'm going to find you a nice new place to live, just you and Mummy, okay? Max won't know where you live, and won't hurt you again.”
“Promise?” asked Hazel, warily.
“We promise,” vowed Harry and Linda together.
Hazel slowly came forward, and Harry let Linda take over, reuniting her with her weeping mother. Soon the whole horrible story came out. Max had seemed like the answer to single mother Janice just over a year ago and had soon moved in. The disruption to their new housemate unsettled young Hazel, and she began to exhibit signs of accidental magic more and more. Max, a Squib, believed her to be showing off her powers, and punished her or her mother.
But no more. Max was being held before official charges were laid tomorrow. When Harry had finally left the Auror office, Linda was finding Janice and Hazel emergency accommodation for the night, after having the department's healer look over them both. Harry vowed to follow up the case with a visit, even if was just to see how little Hazel was doing. Maybe he could even go tomorrow, he was sure Ginny would understand, despite the plans they had.
“Master, you are home,” said Kreacher.
“Obviously,” said Harry, drily, instantly regretting his tone. It wasn't Kreacher's fault he'd had a shitty day. “Sorry, bad day. Ginny home?” he asked.
Kreacher appreciated the apology, nodding his head in acknowledgement. “Mistress Ginny fire-called an hour ago, looking for you. Miss Jones has called a team meeting, and mistress Ginny does not know how long it will go for. She said she will be home as soon as she can be,” recited the elf.
Harry sighed. Coming home to Ginny was the best tonic after a stressful day. She reassured him and stopped him from moping and brooding. “Well, that's just great,” he groused.
“Can Kreacher be bringing you something to eat?” asked Kreacher.
Harry shook his head. Truthfully, he'd grabbed a dry sarny from the Leaky, left over from the lunch trade. It had filled a hole and was quick and easy as he dictated his report, eager to finish the case, check on Hazel, then get home to Ginny. But he knew Kreacher wouldn't find that nourishing enough, yet Harry had no appetite.
“Perhaps a cup of tea,” suggested Harry.
“Very good, master Harry. Mrs Molly sent over a treacle tart today, made fresh. Perhaps a thin slice,” he proposed. “It is quite rich. Too much treacle, I suspect.” He grimaced in distaste.
Harry tried to hide a grin. Molly, as was her way, always sent over copious amounts of food for Harry and Ginny, aware of their busy lifestyles. Kreacher was quite affronted at this, and begrudgingly served up her food, feeling as though her sending over food was a stain on his ability to provide for his master and mistress. He never missed an opportunity to add his comments about her cooking.
Harry patted his stomach. “Maybe just a couple of those nice ginger biscuits you made yesterday, thanks Kreacher. I'm going to go and have a shower, can you bring it to my room, please?” He stood and made his way to the stairs, thus missing the way Kreacher's face lit up.
“Yes, master Harry. Kreacher will be turning down the bed, and shall leave your tea and biscuits on your bedside table.” He picked up Harry's Auror robes and put them over one arm, prepared to clean them.
“Thanks, Kreacher,” waved Harry, tiredly, going up the stairs. “Better add a couple for Ginny.”
“Just a couple?” murmured Kreacher to himself.
Harry stood in the shower for ages, letting the hot water cascade over his body, washing away the day's aches. Today's case was just a little too close to home, bringing back memories of life with the Dursley's. Harry often found that he could go along, quite all right, then bam, something someone said, or did, would bring it all back. Ginny had suggested counselling — Hermione had nagged about counselling — but Harry knew it was unlikely he would be able to bare all his secrets to a random stranger. Trust was something an abused child found hard to accept, and Harry had only opened fully about his pre-magical life with Ginny. Usually late at night, after a wine or two, when he was feeling mellow — or melancholy.
Knock Knock. “Is master all right?” asked Kreacher. “You have been in there for a long time.”
Harry realised his fingers were all wrinkled, so he turned the water off and stepped out of the shower. “I'm fine, Kreacher, sorry, lost track of time. Gin home yet?” he asked hopefully.
“Not yet, master Harry. Your bed is all ready,” said Kreacher.
“Thanks...goodnight,” said Harry, towelling himself dry, then wrapped the towel around himself as he went across the hall to the main bedroom.
He lay on the bed, sipping his tea and nibbling on one of the biscuits. He looked over to the other side of the bed, still feeling a thrill that Ginny Weasley — no, Potter — was his. He stretched his arm out to her side, drawing her pillow close so he could inhale her fragrance. It was quite a poor second choice, but if that was all he had, then he'd take what he could get.
He must have fallen asleep, but something alerted him to wake up. He rolled over from hugging Ginny's pillow, leaned back on his elbows and squinted at the door. “Gin? 'issat you?” He adjusted his glasses.
She wore familiar robes, and with a start, Harry realised they were his Auror robes, the ones he'd discarded in the lounge. She leaned against the door jamb, looking amused.
“That's Auror Potter to you,” she teased, holding up his Auror identification card, which did, indeed, proclaim her to be Auror Potter. “And you, sir, have the right to remain sexy.” She moved closer to the bed.
Harry fell back on the bed, a smile on his face. Already he felt better. Ginny was home and in a playful mood. Suddenly, things were looking, and moving, up!
She hopped onto the bed and straddled him. “If you resist me, I'll have to magically restrain you. Or you could simply, come” — she leaned down to lick his earlobe, something he found a real turn on - “quietly.”
Harry grinned, his hands finding her hips, over his robes. “Well, seeing as I find you irresistible, it looks like I'm going to come” — he ran his hand inside the robes to her hip — “ quietly.”
“Very good, Mr Potter, very good. I'll be sure to tell the judge you've been most co-operative. Maybe they won't send you to Azkaban if I put in a good word for you. Of course, you'll have to do something nice for me,” purred Ginny.
“I'm all for co-operation, Auror Potter,” said Harry, “and I'll do anything to stay out of Azkaban. And I do mean anything,” he said, his voice thick with lust. He bucked under her to show her how aroused he was.
“Mr Potter!” exclaimed Ginny, in a shocked voice. “Are you propositioning me? And you, a married man. Why, I've seen photos in the paper of your lovely, charming wife. What will this do to her, do you reckon?” she asked, trying not to laugh.
Harry sat up, pulling her close as he nuzzled her neck. “Trust me, she'll understand.”
He began to kiss her ear, throat, her neck, when she took his glasses off and put them on the end of her nose, looking at him over the rim. She looked sexy as hell, but for a fleeting moment, it reminded him of Professor MacGonagall, which cooled his ardour slightly.
“Mr Potter,” she scolded, in a tone that also reminded him of his former head of house. “I'm surprised at you...yet slightly intrigued and tit-illated.” She said the last in a sultry tone, drawing Harry's attention to that particular part of her body. Unfortunately all he saw was a pale pink blur.
“Gin, you know I can't see a bloody thing without my glasses,” whined Harry.
“Harry, love,” said Ginny, as she lightly kissed his lips. “You've seen me naked plenty of times before, you don't need your glasses. Close your eyes,” she encouraged.
Harry closed his eyes, taking a moment to enjoy the nibble of his earlobe and the fingers running through his hair. Then he pictured Ginny.
He saw Ginny at ten, running after the train, waving madly. He saw her at thirteen and a half, offering him Easter egg in the library. He saw fifteen year old Ginny after he'd kissed her in the common room, and then sixteen year old Ginny after the battle her eyes shining with love. For him.
He saw just eighteen year old Ginny, smiling broadly, her face flushed after their first time together. He saw nineteen year old Ginny play her first professional Harpies match, and win. He saw twenty year old Ginny walk towards him, a vision in white. Over and over, a hundred different Ginny's invaded his mind. Playful, happy, angry — which was sexy as well — sad, teary — which didn't happen often -- sentimental and loving. So many different Ginny's wrapped up in her small, perfect body.
His hands wandered under his cloak. Merlin, she was naked. His hands crept up her side, to her shoulders and then down. He cupped her breasts, thumbing the hard tips.
She lifted his face to kiss him passionately. He felt his glasses smoosh against his face and he smiled. He quickly flipped her over, and loomed over her. He took back his glasses, mercifully glad to be able to see his beautiful, sexy wife under him, flaming hair spread all over the bed and her eyes blazing for him alone.
“I have to inform you that you're under arrest for impersonating an Auror. If you resist me, I'll be forced to magically restrain you. Do you have anything to say?” he asked.
Ginny put her hands either side of his face. “I could never resist you. Yes, I'm guilty of the charges, it's true. Lock me up and throw away the key,” she cried dramatically, opening her legs to allow him to settle in between them.
“Hmmm.” It was an idea Harry had jokingly considered early in Ginny's career, once the fan boys joined the growing Ginny Weasley fan clubs. Ginny was his, dammit. “I like the sound of that.”
“But please, allow me to explain,” said Ginny, wrapping her legs around his waist.
“Right now?” groaned Harry, looking down at their lower bodies; so close to joining.
“It's because of my husband, you see,” explained Ginny. She wriggled teasingly, making Harry groan. “I wanted to make him feel better. Someone told me he had a bad day at work.”
Harry arched up. “Believe me, this is definitely making me feel better; don't stop. The only thing I can even think about right now is you...me...this.” He bucked up, as she bore down, allowing him entry.
He hissed at the wonder of how perfectly his body fit hers, like two pieces of a puzzle. He captured her lips with his own, trying desperately to show her how much he needed her, wanted her. Loved her.
He pulled her legs up so he was cradled between them. “You have the right to remain not so silent,” he whispered roughly, as he plunged deeper into her heat.
Ginny moaned to feel him deep inside. “Harry!” she groaned, knowing he loved to hear her. “Fuck, yes!”
Her naughty words spurred him on, and he plunged in and out, capturing her moans with his mouth. At her peak, she arched her back, and his lips found her rosy peaks, pushing her over the edge.
Sated, they lay together after, Ginny's leg thrown over Harry's. He stroked it mindlessly, just loving this feeling of togetherness. Ginny broke the comfortable silence. “Want to talk about your day?” she asked softly.
Harry smiled, kissing the side of her forehead. Ginny never prodded him in his darkest times, only gave him unconditional love and support. “Not really,” he said.
“Okay,” she acquiesced, kissing his chest and drawing patterns on it with the pad of her index finger. It felt nice, so he grabbed it and kissed it, before placing it back on his chest. Ginny resumed her patterns and waited.
“I nearly lost control today,” he admitted quietly. “There was this large man, and he was abusing a woman...because her daughter did magic. He shut her in the attic...the cold attic.” He stopped talking; his voice thick with emotion.
“But you didn't,” said Ginny, calmly.
“But I could have,” he protested. His Ginny, his greatest defender. “If Pete hadn't been there, I might be facing charges myself.”
“You have the right to remain sexy,” chuckled Ginny. She hugged him tighter, glad when he chuckled too. When they quietened, she reiterated, “you didn't, Harry.”
They lay together, hands caressing and stroking in a reassuring manner. I'm here. Ready whenever you want to talk about it. I will listen and support you. It was one of their greatest strengths as a couple.
Finally Harry spoke. “It brought back a lot of bad memories.”
“I'm sure it did. Are they all right, the mother and daughter?” asked Ginny gently.
Harry nodded. “Linda was finding them emergency accommodation for tonight, and then she'll see about finding them somewhere new, somewhere better to live.”
“Good. Starting that department was a good idea of Kingsley's,” said Ginny, although she was sure she knew who had the original idea.
“Yeah,” agreed Harry, knowing he could never fool Ginny. He rolled to his side, so he was facing her. “I never want another kid to go through what I did. Every kid deserves to be in a loving happy home.”
“Yes, they do,” said Ginny, brushing the hair that had flopped over his forehead, “and you've set up various foundations to help many children, Harry. It was a great way to use the money from Sirius' vault. He'd be happy with what you've done, happy and proud.”
She pulled Harry's head to her shoulder. “You think?” he asked, unsure. “I mean, something like today happens, and I wonder if what I'm doing is making any sort of difference. Even being an Auror.”
Ginny sat up, dislodging his head. He frowned at her, unhappy to lose his place. Ginny ignored his pouting. “You are an amazing Auror. In fact, and I may be biased here, but I would go as far to say, you're the best damned Auror in the whole history of Auror-ing,” she proclaimed.
“Auror-ing?” queried Harry, but again, she had made him smile. How did she do that?
“Har-ry,” she sing-songed. When he looked at her, she tilted her head. “You wanna know why?”
She held up her index finger. “Number one- you have that whole noble, protective streak going on. For as long as I've known you, you've risked your life to save others.”
At his quizzical look, she rolled her eyes and counted, “Me, in the chamber, Hermione and the troll, Sirius, hell, the whole damn wizarding world. Harry, you were born to be an Auror,” she stated.
Harry pursed his lips, considering her words.
Ginny held up two fingers. “Two- you want to, no, have to be, in the thick of things. You could never be behind a desk, not yet anyway. Down the road, maybe, but now, you're a man of action.”
“I can show you how much a man of action I am,” teased Harry, grinding against her.
Ginny felt her passion rouse again. She could never get enough of this man. She rolled over to face him.
“Then I'll wrap this up quickly. Three.” She held up three fingers, then rested the palm of her hand against Harry's chest. “In this body beats the biggest, strongest heart I've ever known,” she said quietly.
Harry stilled, and placed his hand over hers.
“How you can be so good, so loving, with all you went through as a child? How those damn Dursley's couldn't see the wonderfulness that you are? Grrr, it makes me furious,” she said angrily.
“Wonderfulness...auror-ing? Gonna ask Hermione about those two,” teased Harry.
Ginny lightly smacked him, but he grabbed her hand again and held it over his heart. “Oh, you, it's a real word. You know how I feel about them,” she said, kissing his shoulder.
“Do we need to make another list?” he asked, chuckling. One night, in a melancholy mood, Harry had confessed to Ginny about yet another time he'd gotten a beating for some imagined transgression at the Dursley household. A tipsy Ginny suggested they make a list of the most gruesome punishments for the Dursley parents they could think of; Harry having established a strained relationship with Dudley after the battle.
Harry had participated in the list making, although Ginny had a much more depraved mind than him. She truly was just like the twins. He shuddered to imagine if some of her ideas came true. Still, Petunia forced to do laundry for a bunch of trolls was pretty funny.
“What I'm trying to say,” said Ginny pointedly, bringing him back to their original topic, “is that the whole wizarding world is far better, far safer, with you as an Auror. I know that you would literally do anything to keep us all safe. Literally,” she emphasised.
Harry stared deep into her eyes. “Merlin, I love you,” he said, reverently.
“I love you, too,” said Ginny, “and whenever you're doubting yourself, whenever you're down, you come find me. I won't have anyone saying anything bad about my man, not even you, understand?” She poked his side, making him jump.
“Oy!” he protested, but he rolled closer to her, cuddling her. “My fierce protector!”
“Always,” said Ginny, yawning. She rolled over to look at the time. “Oh, ginger biscuits, have they been there the whole time?” She picked two up and offered Harry one.
“Such a Weasley,” he sighed, affectionately.
Ginny held up a finger. At first, Harry thought it was the rude gesture, but then he realised it was the wrong finger. “Potter,” she corrected, showing her wedding band.
“With a Weasley appetite,” he amended, grabbing her hand to feel the band of gold that told the world of their commitment to each other.
“In all things,” grinned Ginny, sitting up and straddling him again, “and I don't hear you complaining.”
Harry reached up to fondle her breasts gently. “Never!”
Their lovemaking this time was slower and playful, with nips and tickling here and there. But always, always was the sensation that when they joined as one, they were complete.
Ginny lay on her side after, Harry spooned behind her, as close as he could be. Sleep was imminent, but they still confirmed their plans for the next day. Ginny knew time with Teddy would help cheer Harry up, and she herself loved spending time with the little boy. Then dinner at the Burrow with her crazy family should set Harry's mind right again. He was the best Auror, and Ginny had no doubt one day he would be head of the department. Of course, that was way in the future, when they'd have kids, and a nice big home...one with no cupboards under the stairs. She'd make damned sure of that!
“So, big day tomorrow, then,” murmured Harry, almost asleep himself.
“Yeah...but I'm sure we'll have time to check on the little girl, Hazel, was it? We could have an early breakfast, then go to the Ministry, see Linda — Harry, you're strangling me!”
Harry reluctantly released her. “Sorry, I just — really, you'll come with me?”
She rolled back to look at him. “Of course I will. This poor girl and her mother need to know there's still goodness in the world, kindness — ”
“Wonderfulness?” teased Harry.
Ginny hooked her arm around Harry's head to draw it down to hers for a kiss. “No, that word is reserved for you and you alone,” she quipped. “Now, go to sleep.” She rolled back to her side, and Harry resumed his position behind her.
He thought she was asleep, but then he heard a soft noise. “Are you — are you eating a biscuit?” he asked, amused.
“Yes, why, did you want it?” she mumbled, her mouth full.
Harry chuckled. “No, you go ahead. Good thing your mum sent over a treacle tart,” he quipped.
Ginny looked up interestedly. “There's treacle tart?” She looked around, as if expecting it to materialise out of nowhere.
“Tomorrow,” Harry told her, “Although Kreacher tells me only a small slice will do. Apparently it's quite rich.”
Ginny snorted. “I'd like to see him tell my mum that.”
Harry had to admit a Molly/Kreacher showdown would be entertaining. “Go to sleep,” he told her.
“Love you,” she said, softly.
“Love you more,” he replied, equally softly.
She giggled. “Love you forever.”
He kissed her shoulder blade. “Love you infinity.”
She rolled onto her side to face him, almost nose to nose. “Isn't that the same as forever?”
“It's longer than forever,” he told her. “By one day.” he smirked at his cleverness.
“Fine,” she smirked. “I love you for eternity.”
“I love you...damn, I need to borrow Hermione's dictionary,” groaned Harry. “Go to sleep.”
There was silence, then, “I win, I win,” she gloated softly.
Harry grinned in the darkness. Another Weasley trait. “Actually, if you love me that much and for that long, then I think I'm the winner.”
Ginny grabbed his hand and squeezed. “There's that wonderfulness again,” she pointed out.
“Go to sleep. It's one in the morning.”
“Love you,” they said together, then laughed softly.
Then, they slept.
And when Harry woke, and he and Ginny went to see Janice and Hazel, he saw the good work the department was doing. Already the stress had left Janice's face, and little Hazel even giggled when Ginny held her on her lap and told her a story of the twins many mischievous pranks on their siblings. Harry and Ginny stayed till they left to go to their new home, and Harry promised to come and visit. Ginny made a note to ask her mother to send over a basket of homemade meals to set them up. Linda had a job lined up for Janice, and the future was looking a lot more positive.
At the end of another fun filled day with Teddy, then the whole Weasley gang at the Burrow, Harry and Ginny returned home, with yet another basket of Molly's goodies. Kreacher begrudgingly took the basket and stored the goods, as requested.
But it was his ginger biscuits Harry and Ginny requested again that night, with their bedtime cup of tea, he noted happily. They'd even requested six, not four.
“Two for me, four for Ginny,” quipped Harry. “Because, when it comes down to it, Ginny's a Weasley.”
Ginny nudged him, grinning, and this time, it wasn't her wedding ring finger she gesticulated with.
He held his hands up in defence. “I'm not complaining. It's all part of the wonderfulness that is you.”
Kreacher rolled his eyes, and plated the appropriate number of biscuits.
“Good word, Potter,” grinned Ginny.
“I'm a cunning linguist,” he boasted.
“Let me show you,” he offered, taking her hand and disapparating upstairs.
Kreacher looked down at the plate of biscuits in his hands.
Harry suddenly reappeared. “Erm, I'll just take them,” he said, reaching for the plate. “It's Ginny, she gets hungry after, erm, later,” he corrected. Blushing, he disappeared back upstairs.
“Mistress has quite the appetite,” agreed Kreacher to himself. “Lucky master.”
Harry felt quite the same half an hour later. As Ginny lay next to him, feeding him his ginger biscuit, Harry felt like the luckiest man in the world.
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