Chapter Text
The fireplace in the middle of the Potters’ living room flared to life and out stepped Mr Potter himself, dusting his Auror robes to rid them of the soot. Harry Potter had spent most of his life being the only ‘Mr Potter’ since both his parents had been dead his whole life, but he still had difficulty thinking of himself and his family as the Potters. Part of him expected to see James and Lily Potter every time he walked into the two-storeyed rustic but sophisticated cottage that he and his wife had purchased together before getting married.
The house stood still at this late hour and Harry found himself hoping that his wife was still up, waiting for him to arrive. However, he knew better. Most days, he barely saw his wife, who was almost always exhausted and in bed hours before he made his way back from work.
Harry was an Auror and his working hours were never set. He could be called away to work at odd hours if there was criminal activity afoot. Over the years, his wife had complained about how demanding his work could be. But they had made it work anyway, mostly thanks to the fact that she had her own stable, and rather successful, career to focus on.
However, things were different now. His wife had retired from her Quidditch career last year when she and Harry had decided to start a family. She had become pregnant within a couple of months of trying, and her last Quidditch match had been the final of the season. She had led her team to victory one last time as their star Chaser, then had gracefully given up the glory of the game. She had done that for him, Harry thought warmly, because he wanted a family of his own more than anything in the world.
Harry took off his boots and kept them inside the shoe cabinet next to the main door. He shucked off his Auror robes, putting it next to the Floo, from where he would pick it up again to wear in the morning for yet another day of work. Now clad in only his shirt, pants, and socks, Harry padded his way through the living room towards his bedroom, which was located at the far end of the ground floor.
Tiptoeing into his bedroom, trying not to wake up his wife, Harry quickly rid himself of the rest of his clothes. He put on pyjama bottoms, which was the only thing he preferred to sleep in when he wasn’t sleeping naked. He could see the shape of his wife, buried under the covers - she had the strange habit of putting her entire body under the covers, even her face. It was a habit that he found absurd, yet endearing, perhaps because it was she who did it.
Harry slipped under the covers as carefully as he could, but his wife stirred anyway. She turned her body, still asleep. The blanket finally slipped off, revealing her face, pink lips slightly parted, soft snores escaping her nose. They had been together for almost ten years now, but Harry was still unusually preoccupied with the dusting of freckles on her nose.
Ginny Weasley. Ginny Potter, he corrected himself.
It was still strange to think of her as anything but Ginny Weasley, the ten-year-old girl who ran after the Hogwarts Express, wanting to be part of the grand adventures that her brothers were enjoying at Hogwarts. Ginny Weasley, the spirited and feisty fifteen-year-old girl who Harry fell maddeningly in love with.
But she was now Ginny Potter. Despite being a professional Quidditch player, who was known for her name, Ginny had fiercely insisted that her name be officially changed to Potter when they married three years ago. It was one of those things that she did for others, simply because she was kind and thoughtful, and because it didn’t cost her much. Having grown up in a family without too much money, Ginny knew the power of loving gestures. And changing her name to Potter was just one of those many, many things she’d done for him.
“You’ve been alone for far too long,” Ginny had said when he’d asked why she wanted to change her name. “I want you to have your own family now. The world needs more Potters. And I’d be honoured to be the first one.” And then she’d winked at him saucily. “At least until we add a few more soldiers to the ranks.”
That’s how she was, his wife. Bright, happy, giving, and fun.
Harry tried to turn off his brain and simply drift off to sleep, but the tantalising figure of his wife kept him awake. He was itching with the need to pull her close. He slept badly without holding her close for comfort.
So, even though there was a danger of disrupting her sleep, Harry purposefully pulled her closer to him. Just like always, she fit perfectly into the curve of his body.
“You’re back,” Ginny whispered, turning to put her face against his chest. “How was your day?”
“Same as always - caught some wizards doing bad things.”
“Are you okay? Hurt, or anything?”
Ginny did this - asked him, every day, whether he was okay. Always checked whether he’d gotten hurt. He sometimes wondered whether this was because they’d spent the war away from each other. He knew that she’d waited for him. But it couldn’t have been easy, knowing that he was out there, putting himself in harm’s way. Perhaps this was her coping mechanism, checking to see that he was physically and mentally fine all the time. Especially since the war had never truly ended for him - he’d just gone from fighting Voldemort to fighting other dark wizards.
“I’m perfectly fine.”
“Good,” Ginny whispered, eyes still closed, breathing still slow. She was drifting in and out of sleep, he could tell. But she scooted closer anyway, her hand absently petting his hair, the way she knew made him feel cared for.
Entangled in each other, Harry and Ginny had almost drifted off entirely, until they were both woken up by the sound of their baby crying. Loud screams - that’s how baby James Sirius Potter cried. Let it be known that he never did anything half-arsed, not even crying. The boy took after his uncle, Ronald Weasley, in more ways than just his looks, Harry was convinced.
“I’ll check it out,” Harry said when he felt Ginny move to get out of bed. “Keep sleeping.”
“You have to be back at work early in the morning, Harry.” The pressure from Ginny’s palm was enough to make him lay back in bed. She was right - he was exhausted. And he had only about four hours to get some sleep. He sighed, feeling frustrated that he wasn’t able to be more useful to his family.
Ginny shuffled out of bed, gathering her red, flowy hair into a bun at the top of her head. And then she walked out towards the nursery, which was a small bedroom right next to theirs, meant for this exact purpose. When Harry and Ginny had bought their cottage, filling the rooms with children had always been the plan.
In the dead silence of the night, Harry could hear Ginny’s muffled but soothing tones and James’s light cooing. And then Harry heard it, the low humming of a song. Ginny had a natural maternal instinct that had taken him by surprise. She had always been more of an athlete than what Molly Weasley would call ‘a traditional wife’. Harry had never minded, of course. But he still felt guilty that he had harshly judged his own wife by thinking that she wasn’t naturally the type of woman to be a mother. Not that he would ever admit that he’d thought that to Ginny.
Harry sighed, running his fingers through his hair. Sleep was eluding him, even though he was tired enough that his limbs were aching. He sat up, giving up entirely. If sleep wasn’t bound to come, he’d rather take the opportunity to be close to his wife and son.
Harry made his way to the nursery and leaned against the doorframe, watching Ginny hum her song about mermaids. He knew it had to be one of the Muggle songs his wife had picked up, thanks to the TV they had in the living room because Harry knew that the mermaids in the wizarding world were nothing to be singing to a baby about.
“If you weren’t going to sleep anyway, you might as well have come here to sing to Jamie,” Ginny said, turning slowly towards Harry. He saw that his son had fallen asleep in his mother’s arms. Ginny carefully lowered him into his cot.
“I doubt he wants me to sing, Gin. I don’t have half the voice you do.”
“Right, of course,” Ginny spoke softly, running her finger against James’s cheek. “I remember the ruckus you and George made on your stag do. Running around the pub singing your own version of Weasley is our King, was that it?”
“No, we changed it to Weasley is my Queen, because you are, aren’t you?”
Ginny rolled her eyes at Harry.
“I’m your Queen, am I?” She came up to him and placed her palms on his chest, nuzzling her nose against his. “Then what are you?”
“Just a poor stable boy.”
Ginny chuckled softly and then placed a chaste kiss against Harry’s lips. Harry wanted to lean into the feel of it and extend it beyond what was appropriate for the moment, but she pulled away before he could do it.
“Do you want some tea, stable boy?”
“I could use a cup.”
Harry followed Ginny into their kitchen. Ginny pulled out the teapot and set the water on the stove. She also fished out some sticky toffee pudding, kept in a small tin on the side of the counter, and handed a spoon to Harry. Harry sat across from Ginny on the stools they had in the kitchen and they both dug into the pudding as they waited for the tea to boil.
“I met Luna today,” Ginny said, spooning some pudding into her mouth.
“How is Luna?” Harry hadn’t seen Luna in almost two years. The woman was off on some expedition or the other with her husband and the handful of times that she’d been in town, Harry had been too busy to make time to meet her. But Luna and Ginny had remained incredibly close and always made it a point to meet.
“She’s alright. Just getting a bit tired of the travelling.” Harry threw Ginny a thoroughly confused look and she continued, “Yes, I know. I was surprised too. But I don’t think she foresaw only travel in her future, you know. Plus, her dad’s not doing well these days and she wants to be closer. She’s getting a bit annoyed that Rolf doesn’t seem to want to settle in one place yet.”
“I can see how that might be annoying, having to put down roots if you’re not ready yet.” Harry didn’t know why he automatically sympathised with Rolf in this situation, but apparently, it had been the wrong thing to say, because Ginny looked immediately offended on her friend’s behalf. “Because that’s what marriage is about, Harry. I didn’t want to quit my Quidditch career either, but I did, so that we could start a family. Rolf should put a stop to it as well so that Luna can be there for her dad.”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” Harry defended. The last thing he wanted was to fight with Ginny over something that had nothing to do with them. “I just mean, it can be difficult. It was for you, wasn’t it? You loved playing Quidditch, and even though you love Jamie, it can’t be easy being at home all day, not being able to do what you love.”
And that was the wrong thing to say too, because Ginny’s face blazed with fury, shortly reminding him of the first time he’d kissed her, but also making him curse at himself in his mind.
“Yes, I loved Quidditch, but it wasn’t a difficult decision to make at all. I love being a mother and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”
“I know that, Gin. I just meant that a part of you must miss playing?”
Ginny’s eyes softened for a bit before she bit off, “I had my moment in the sun. It’s time to move on and focus on better things. Like our family.” The kettle whistled and Ginny got up to prepare two cups of tea. Harry played around with his bite for a bit, feeling awful for having said the wrong things. He loved his son, it was everything he’d ever wanted, to have a family, but he knew that his relationship with Ginny hadn’t been the same since they’d had James. Harry felt like an arse for even thinking it, but he missed how easy it used to be between them.
“Here,” Ginny said, as she handed him a cup of tea, the steam rising in soft waves.
“Thanks.”
“I hope you’ve told Robards that you’re taking the day off on Friday,” Ginny asked for what must have been the tenth time. She didn’t trust that he’d be able to take the day off and he couldn’t blame her. He’d been called away for emergencies many times before, on days that he’d meant to spend with her.
“Yes, I’ve told him,” Harry said, putting his hand on Ginny’s hand. “Don’t worry, Gin. I wouldn’t miss Jamie’s first birthday for anything.”
“Yes, of course.”
Ginny slurped her tea noisily, her finger fiddling with a spoon on the counter, her gaze unfocused. It was only in the soft light of the kitchen that Harry first noticed the dark circles - marring the otherwise perfect features of his wife’s face. Guilt gripped him before he could even process what those dark circles implied. His wife, once the most popular girl in Hogwarts, breaking the hearts of dozens with her bright eyes and dazzling smile, now sat with tired lines etched on her face. Harry couldn’t help but feel like he was to blame.
“I am going with Mum tomorrow to shop for some decorations for the party,” Ginny finally said, taking another long sip, and sighing deeply. “And Hermione and Fleur will come around on Thursday evening to help me decorate.”
Harry nodded absently - something much more unpleasant was on his mind. He wondered if Ginny ever thought about anything but James these days. Was it normal to feel jealous of one’s own son? Harry tried to bury the irrational thought before it fully reared its ugly head.
“Oh, and Angie asked if we could have Freddie stay over on the weekend. She would have asked Hermione, but she is busy with her case and Ron needs to look after the shop while George is away.” Harry was hearing the words, but they were barely registering in his mind. He was too busy thinking about when they’d changed from a couple who wasted no time jumping on each other to one who discussed mundane tasks over a cup of tea in the middle of the night. “They are going to spend the weekend in Cyprus. I’m trying not to be envious. It has been almost two years since we managed to get away, hasn’t it?”
“Mm-hmm,” Harry confirmed. It has also been almost three months since we had sex, he wanted to say but bit back the words. Merlin, he was so ungrateful. Here she was, his wife, who had given up so much to give him the perfect family and he couldn’t help but feel disgruntled - all because their sex life was a bit dry. So what? Didn’t that happen to a lot of couples, especially after they’d had a baby?
We were never like other couples, the unhappy voice in his brain countered.
“Maybe we can plan another vacation soon,” Harry announced loudly. Yes, this would help their relationship - getting away from the banality of it all. Thinking of all the ways he could seduce his wife in a hotel room, tucked far away from the rest of the world, almost made Harry smile. Until, of course, Ginny ruined it.
“Harry, we cannot do that.” Her nose immediately turned up at the suggestion and Harry felt his heart sink. “James is far too young to be left alone. And he’s so fussy. Mum can’t handle him on her own.”
“Then maybe Hermione and Ron can take him.”
“They’re both far too busy to mind Jamie. No, we should hold off on any vacations until he is a bit older.”
Harry didn’t want to admit defeat. He was determined to fight for some time with his wife.
“Then let’s just take him with us. He sleeps for most of the day anyway, he can do that in France, or Spain, or Italy.” Ginny grew thoughtful for a second, and Harry knew he had her if he just said the right things. “Besides, I have plans for us to stay in bed as well.” He threw her the crooked grin she knew was his signal to get frisky. Ginny giggled, and for a short moment, Harry was transported back to their younger, more carefree days.
“You want to be careful, stable boy, lest you get into trouble with the Queen.” Ginny hovered closer towards his mouth, making his mouth water at the thought of having her splayed in front of him. Maybe he could convince her to turn his visions into reality right here, right now. He tried to guess what time it was, surely they could spare twenty minutes of Ginny screaming his name as he buried his face in between her legs. Ginny’s flirtatious smirk told him that he had a chance.
“Oh, I would very much like to get into trouble.”
And then he closed the distance between them, pushing away all thoughts of kids, birthday parties, and babysitting. It had been far too long since he’d felt his wife’s lips against his in long, passionate kisses. Usually, he arrived far too late and she was almost always too exhausted. But tonight, by some stroke of luck, they were both wide awake, their son tucked in bed, with nothing else to focus on but each other. And Harry would be daft to let this time trickle away with only talks of Luna or Freddie or Hermione.
Harry’s insides almost danced happily when Ginny’s body melted a bit against his, a low whimper escaping her lips. This was proof that maybe she missed him just as much as he missed her. He knew that they were quickly approaching the point of no return when he slid off his stool and pulled Ginny out of hers, bringing her flush against his chest.
“This isn’t fair, Harry,” Ginny whispered as he trailed kisses along her neck, pulling down the strap of her nightgown off one shoulder. His tongue followed the route and traced the patterns of freckles it found there. “You know I can never resist you when you kiss me like this.”
“Hmm, that’s exactly the plan,” Harry moaned as his hands cupped his wife’s breasts. Ginny had never had large breasts before, nor did she now, but since the birth of their son, they had been a bit more ample, as Harry liked to think. Either way, he had been obsessed with her breasts for years and it was no different now, especially since there was even more of them for him to love.
“Shouldn’t you sleep?” Ginny tried to reason, even as she arched her back to allow Harry even better access to her curves, which meant that her protests now were entirely half-hearted. “You do have that meeting with Robards at seven.”
The last thing that Harry wanted to do was think about his humourless boss, not when he had just pulled off Ginny’s nightgown entirely, revealing her creamy breasts to his gaze. So he simply shrugged his shoulders and responded, “I’ll just show up a little late. What will he do, fire the Saviour of the Wizarding World?” And then, he put his lips against one of Ginny’s pebbled nipples, all thoughts of work and responsibility flying promptly out of his brain.
Ginny vibrated with laughter. “I thought you never wanted to use your status as the Saviour to get unfair advantages.” A low moan escaped her mouth as Harry brought his teeth into the party, nibbling on her skin the way he knew drove her crazy. “That was the naivety of youth. What is the point of killing Voldemort if I can’t misuse my influence to show up late to a meeting after I thoroughly fucked my wife the previous night?” Harry replied, pulling back from his activities and meeting Ginny’s eyes. He found the desire he felt reflected in them and put his hands against her bum to lift her off the floor, Ginny’s legs promptly wrapping themselves around his pelvis. He reached for his wand, only then realising that he had left it in their bedroom. So the only thing left for him to do was to push their tea cups and the leftover pudding away from the counter hastily, the crash of the ceramics against the tiled floor of the kitchen making a loud sound that echoed in the house. Ginny gasped as he set her down on the counter and admonished, “Harry! What if Jamie woke up?”
Both of them paused and waited, expecting to hear the shrill cries of their son pierce through the air of their otherwise silent house. However, nothing apart from the joint pounding of their hearts could be heard. Harry relaxed, giving Ginny a quick kiss.
“I think even my son wants me to get laid tonight,” he remarked, earning a whack from Ginny against his chest.
“Then he doesn’t take after his Uncle Ron, after all,” Ginny said, pulling down Harry’s pyjama bottoms with urgency, reaching for his aching arousal with her nimble fingers. Harry put his palm over her hand, halting her ministrations, even though they were driving him crazy. “Let’s not talk about your brother while your hand is near my bits.” Harry pulled her hand away. “And I would like to focus on you first.”
As he said this, he hooked his thumbs into Ginny’s knickers, which were thankfully the only garment that adorned her body now, and pulled them off in one swift motion. Harry was dying to be in familiar territory so he wasted no time kneeling on the floor and putting his hands around his wife’s thighs to pull them apart.
A loud breath escaped Ginny’s lips as Harry dove between her legs, his tongue exploring her wet folds in a manner that could only be described as hungry. Harry felt Ginny’s fingers grip his hair and push him further into her core. Harry obliged immediately, flicking his tongue against her nub, even as he slipped two of his fingers into her entrance. He hooked his fingers and rubbed that secret spot inside that he knew would bring Ginny over the edge sooner than any other move. The result was instant - Ginny gasped his name and with her foot against his shoulder, bucked her bum off the counter in her enthusiasm. Harry’s left hand gripped her buttock fiercely, supporting her weight as she convulsed through her orgasm. He pulled his fingers out, now slick with her finish, and placed one last kiss against her centre, before placing Ginny on the counter again and pulling himself up off his knees.
The rise and fall of his wife’s chest in the afterglow of an orgasm was a sight that he had sorely missed. Ginny’s eyes were still closed, but her hand reached out for him and she straightened her back to pull him into a kiss. It was a kink they shared - tasting themselves on the other’s lips.
“Considering how long it’s been since we’ve done that, I’m surprised at how quickly you can make me come,” Ginny commented, her breathing slowing down. Harry smiled wickedly, wondering if he would ever stop feeling an absurd level of pride at bringing his wife to orgasms even after years of being together.
“Yes, three months is a long time.”
Harry hadn’t meant to sound bitter, but the way the words came out, they couldn’t be interpreted as anything but. Ginny’s smile faded a bit and she looked just a touch guilty as she said, “I know. I’m sorry that we haven’t been able to do more of this. I have just been so exhausted lately. I didn’t know that a baby could be such a handful.”
It was genuine, her apology, and that made Harry feel that much worse. He had considered their petrified sex life an affront only to him. It was only now that he was considering that Ginny was just as much of a victim of this new sexual drought as he was. She had always been someone who enjoyed sex and initiated it with Harry just as much as he initiated it with her. So why had he, over the last year, somehow assumed that he was the only one missing their regular physical intimacy?
“No, I’m sorry.” He took her hand in his and kissed her knuckles. “I know you miss this just as much as I do. And you wouldn’t be so exhausted in the first place if I was around more.” He didn’t think there was any way for him to remedy that particular problem, but he knew that it contributed massively to how tired Ginny was. “Let’s try to make some time for us, okay? Whenever we can.”
Ginny kissed him then, long and deep.
He let his worries dissipate in her embrace, his twitching erection reminding him of just how much he wanted her at that moment. Their kisses heated up again, Harry’s hands seeking Ginny’s breasts, while she proceeded to grip his erection with her fingers, leading him towards her core.
“Be slow, it’s been a while.”
Even as he entered her, entered what he knew was his home more than any stack of bricks had ever been, Ginny whimpered slightly. Since the birth, her body had never gone back to what it used to be. He couldn’t feel the change, but he knew that for her, the first thrust was usually a bit uncomfortable, especially if they didn’t do it for a while.
“Are you okay?” He asked, holding himself back a bit, even if all he wanted to do was get lost in the feel of her.
“Yes,” she breathed out. “I missed you.”
That was all Harry needed. He kissed her, putting his hands against her hips and drove harder into her, making her gasp with pleasure. Being inside Ginny, even after years, was the most glorious feeling he had ever experienced. As he moved inside her, Harry’s frustrations over feeling distant from Ginny began to fade. He couldn’t possibly feel anything but the intense love he’d shared with this woman for almost a decade when he was this close to her.
Harry peppered kisses against her neck and collarbones as he drove deeper and deeper into her familiar heat. Ginny’s fingers were digging painfully into his shoulders, partly for support and partly because she knew that he liked it when she hurt him.
“Oh fuck,” Ginny panted, little moans escaping her lips between words. “I can’t-” moan “believe that-” moan “we haven’t done this-” moan “in so long.” The last few words were barely audible since Harry snaked his fingers in between them to press hard against her clit and Ginny huffed out loudly in pleasure.
The lurid sounds of their sex were now reverberating in the kitchen, mixed with the low moans of approval that both of them couldn’t help but make in the heat of the moment. When Harry dipped his head down to Ginny’s breast to put his teeth around her rosy pink nipple, she all but screamed his name. The resulting sound was loud enough to wake their son, so Harry moved his hand from between their pelvises to clamp her mouth shut, muffling any more sounds that might come out of it.
Harry pushed Ginny back onto the counter, her back meeting the smooth granite, his hand still gripping her mouth. The scene in front of him - his wife writhing against him, muffled moans against his palm, breasts moving in rhythm with his hips - turned Harry on even more than he thought was possible. He was nearing the edge himself, he knew. But he was determined to get his wife there one more time. So he did next what he knew would guarantee success.
He lowered himself to Ginny’s ear and whispered, “I like fucking you like this. Open and inviting, and entirely at my mercy.”
Ginny had always been the more adventurous one out of the two of them and very early on in their relationship, Harry had learned that nothing brought Ginny over the precipice better than a few dirty words whispered into her ears as he thrust hard into her.
At his words, Ginny whimpered against his palm and he could feel her muscles clenching pleasurably around him. He pumped her a few more times, trying to be as rough as the angle allowed him to be, and added, “I want you to come for me, Ginny.” And when her eyes met his, he added, “Come, now,” and Ginny broke apart in his arms almost instantaneously. Even through his palm, he could hear her delicious screams as he drove into her, riding her through her orgasm, her body shaking with the power of her pleasure.
It was maybe a few more thrusts before he came undone as well, Ginny’s muffled cries driving him over the edge. He could feel the tremors in her thighs as he slowly pumped the last few drops of his orgasm, before removing his hand from Ginny’s mouth and placing a light kiss against her nose.
Harry pulled back from Ginny, the sight of his orgasm dripping down her core almost making him want to do this all over again. But he knew better - they both had long days ahead of them. So he dragged his gaze away from the explicit scene and walked over to pick up his pyjama bottoms from the floor.
“What are you doing?” Ginny asked him as he scrunched up his bottoms in his hand and gently wiped his come from between her legs.
“I left my wand in the room,” he explained.
“Oh, okay.” Ginny pushed herself to sit up straight. “Thank you.”
“Of course,” Harry said, throwing away his soiled clothes once he had fully cleaned Ginny up. His fingers lingered against her thighs and felt some leftover trembling in her muscles before she stepped off the counter and pressed herself into his arms. Harry placed a kiss on her forehead and breathed in the flowery scent that had dominated his senses since he was in his sixth year in school.
“I love you,” Ginny whispered.
Even though many things had changed in the course of their relationship, that one feeling had remained constant. Ginny loved him, had loved him for years. So now, even if there were days when he felt a bit disgruntled or neglected, he had to remind himself that it was all in his head and that Ginny loved him no less today than she did when she had waited for him to come back, without him having to ask, without any guarantee.
Through the ugliness of what had been Harry’s life, Ginny had been his sparkling oasis. And he would be an idiot to let himself forget it. So, he kissed her again, holding her tight against his chest, and replied, “I love you too.”