SIYE Time:13:55 on 16th June 2021

By sapphire200182

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Category: Post-Hogwarts
Genres: Fluff, General, Humor, Romance
Warnings: Sexual Situations
Story is Complete
Rating: PG
Reviews: 8
Summary: After Harry is installed as Kingsley Shacklebolt’s star Auror, Ginny feels that he has not been paying her enough attention lately. She decides to consult Hermione on how to remedy the problem…
Hitcount: Story Total: 5950

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:
Just a short anecdote on Harry’s and Ginny’s married life. Plus, I couldn’t get the plot bunny out of my head…



Summary: After Harry is installed as Kingsley Shacklebolt’s star Auror, Ginny feels that he has not been paying her enough attention lately. She decides to consult Hermione on how to remedy the problem…

Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter, nor do I intend to get any monetary gain from my usage of JKR’s characters. She can have them! I just want to play with them a little…

Author’s Note: Just a short anecdote on Harry’s and Ginny’s married life. Plus, I couldn’t get the plot bunny out of my head…

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No. 2, Drew Lane, London

Fr iday

Harry James Potter sighed as he stepped out of the fireplace. There seemed to be no end to things that had gone wrong today. First, he’d had to rush to the office without more than a mouthful of toast when two ex-Death Eaters had been spotted trying to hold up Madam Puddifoots’ in Hogsmeade.

That little problem had been solved rather easily, except that it had made Ginny extremely pissed off at him - not least because she had decided to cook bacon and eggs, and because this was the fourteenth morning in a row when he’d had to rush off.

The morning fiasco was carried on by a chapter of accidents in Bethnal Green, in which two Durmstrang drop-outs were caught indulging in a little Muggle-baiting. Of course, the Magical Law Enforcement patrol should have handled them easily, but they wanted Harry Potter, the Great Chosen One, to impress them a bit with his supreme power…

They’d been doing that ever since he’d gotten onto Kingsley Shacklebolt’s Auror team. Always relying on the Boy-Who-Lived to do their work, simply because he was around and because he was a Ministry employee. As such, he couldn’t refuse, because it was his job!

Of course, there was always professional Quidditch, but Harry had never found a team he liked playing for. Puddlemere United was the best, but Oliver had said the coach was…well, what he said of the coach wouldn’t have been printable in Playwizard’s Dirty Jokes section.

All the other teams Harry had sought out had wanted him more as a figurehead, even though his Quidditch skills were undeniable. Despite letters of recommendation from Professor McGonagall, Madam Hooch, Viktor Krum and Oliver Wood, the contracts they’d offered him were transparent enough to Harry; they wanted him more as a publicity figure than anything else.

Certainly not as a useful addition to the team.

After Bethnal Green, they’d gone chasing down a nest of rogue vampires who’d broken out of a prison in Albania. The Albanian Government, of course, had requested specifically for - who else? - Harry James Potter.

The rigours of Apparating to Albania - there wasn’t an international Floo system there - had drained Harry of his strength completely. Two Restorative potions hadn’t helped. After the vampires had come meetings, after meetings paperwork, and one thing just led to another…

So it was that when Harry arrived home (finally!) at two in the morning, he had plenty of issues on his mind. Certainly, his wife was quite far from his thoughts.

Harry dropped his briefcase by the fireplace - where he could pick it up quickly if there was yet another frenzied dash in the morning, of which he was fairly sure there would be - and lumbered into the kitchen.

As he passed by the remnants of what must have been dinner, Harry’s stomach grumbled. Fetching a fork from one of the drawers, he sat down to what passed for the dinner of the Chosen One (and Saviour of the World to boot!)…cold leftover ravioli.

Even in his famished and exhausted state, Harry still proved that he was not a top-flight Auror for nothing. Whipping out his wand, he directed it towards the far corner of the room.

Then he sighed.

“Put it away,” he muttered, settling down to his food once more.

Ginny Weasley-Potter removed Harry’s spare Invisibility Cloak - Remus’s present to the Potters when they’d wed almost two years ago - with no hint of remorse.

“You’re late,” she said, sitting down next to her husband.

Understatement of the century.

“I was caught up at work.” Harry couldn’t say anymore, he had to focus on the ravioli he was demolishing.

To watch him eat, one would think he was Ronald Bilius Weasley.

“Seeing as I don’t detect any trace of perfume, no blond, brunette or black hairs and certainly no sign of lipstick, either you’re telling the truth or your mistress does a good job of scanning for tell-tale signs.”

“You’ve got to stop listening to those ridiculous soaps on the radio,” grumbled Harry good-naturedly…well, as good-naturedly as one could be in his situation.

“Maybe I would, if my husband would come home at five in the evening, instead of two the next day…” said Ginny sharply.

“It’s not my fault!” exclaimed Harry. “For some reason, everyone thinks that just because I got lucky against Voldemort I’m supposed to do every single little task for them. In Millicent Bagnold’s time, you wouldn’t see a fully-fledged, highly-experienced Auror chasing down juvenile punks in Bethnal Green! That’s the MLE’s job! Not mine!”


What was there to say? It was an old argument, one that flared up every single time he came home late. As always, it was due to Diodorus Siculus - the head of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad - constantly hounding the ‘Chosen One’ to help the MLE with this or that, or to attend PR functions as representative of the Ministry, or simply to chat about ways to improve MLE efficiency, or…

Ginny stood up, and began to knead her husband’s shoulder muscles, feeling the tautness there and rubbing it away.

“You’ve got to put your foot down,” she said, and now her tone was softer, conciliatory. “Tell Siculus that he can get his own Chosen One if he’s going to send you on these kind of missions that the MLE is supposed to be sorting out.”

“I know, dear,” said Harry, taking her hand. “Once the Albanian vampires are done with, I’ll use it to get into Siculus’ head that I’m wasted doing PR stunts for the benefit of a couple of delinquents and the Daily Prophet’s readership.”

He kissed her on the cheek.

“Want a shower?” said Ginny hopefully at this show of affection on the usually reserved Harry’s part.

“Maybe later. Give me five minutes on the couch first.”

Ginny’s hopes came plummeting down. Dully, she said, “Fine,” and, pausing to collect the Invisibility Cloak, she left for the bedroom.

Harry was too tired to sense her displeasure, and stumbled for the sofa. A moment later, he was asleep.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


The next morning, Ginny rose early, despite her late night. As she passed by the inert form of her sleeping husband, still on the couch where he had practically collapsed on last night, she felt a flash of annoyance - which she quickly suppressed. Harry was working hard, and it was through no fault of his own that they were having such a rough time of it.

Ginny fried bacon and a couple of eggs that day, certain that the Ministry wouldn’t come calling. What were the odds, considering that they’d disturbed his breakfast for the past fourteen days? Surely it was the Potters’ turn to get lucky?


The kitchen fireplace flared to life, and Kingsley’s bald pate poked out, making Ginny thankful that she had put on an old robe.

“Sorry about that,” apologised Kingsley, averting his eyes.

“Good morning, Kingsley,” sighed Ginny. It was going to be one of those days. Quickly she prepared an egg sandwich for the man of the house, who would soon be leaving for another work-a-thon.

“Terribly sorry to intrude on your morning together,” rumbled Kingsley, “but, uh, Diodorus Siculus wants to see Harry immediately. Something about putting together an mixed Auror and MLE task force to combat the recent vampire uprising in Albania.”

“Oh?” said Ginny. She made no attempt to disguise by her tone what she thought of Mr. Siculus.

And when she wanted to, Ginny’s sarcasm was cutting.

“Sorry about this, Ginny,” said Kingsley, and now he was less of a superior talking to his subordinate’s wife, but more of a friend…a friend of the family since Ginny was fourteen. “I’ve been working hard myself to block as many Harry-requests as possible. Believe me, you don’t want to hear about the ones from the Sports Department. Or the official Gobstones Club.”

Ginny’s expression softened. “Alright, Kingsley. But tell Mr. Siculus that Harry’s going to take fifteen minutes to get there, and if he even thinks of complaining, Mrs. Potter is going to tell him what she thinks of the whole thing,” she finished grimly. “Personally.”

Kingsley winced perceptibly, and withdrew. “Thanks, Ginny.”

Ginny went over to where Harry still lay on the sofa. She pointed her wand at him. “Scourgify, Scourgify, Scourgify!”

That, at least, ought to take care of his clothes, shoes and general cleanliness, thought Ginny.

Then she sat down by her sleeping husband, smoothing his unruly hair that looked even messier than usual. Ginny kissed him softly, and drew back.

Harry jerked, and opened an eye. Catching sight of her, he smiled, and held out his arms.

She lay down next to him, feeling the warmth as he held her tight, listening to his steady breathing, feeling the rise and fall of his chest.

“This is pleasant,” she said after awhile, “but Mr. Siculus wants you to form a task force to handle the vampire problem. Get up, Harry.”

“How long?”

“Two minutes ago. I said you’d be there in fifteen.”

Harry groaned, and released his wife. “Sorry,” he said, as he made his way to the bathroom.

Ten minutes later, he stumbled to the kitchen table, grabbed the sandwich and devoured it in three giant bites.

“Sorry,” he said again in between mouthfuls.

“Just try to come home early tonight, alright?” said Ginny.

“I’ll try,” said Harry, kissing her again and hefting up his briefcase. Throwing Floo powder into the fireplace, he yelled, “Ministry of Magic, damn them!”

Then he was gone.

With a sigh, Ginny turned to the bacon and began to put away half of it, knowing that when he came home early next morning, he would want some of it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

No. 15, Humbert Lane, London

That Afternoon

“I’m worried,” said Ginny, as she chewed thoughtfully on a mouthful of lamb stew. “He’s been working almost round the clock these days.”

“I know,” replied Hermione. “His rate of work is really amazing to the other guys. It’s even filtered down to the other departments how much work Harry is doing. Ron says the guys at the Sports Department call him an office legend.”

The two friends were in the small house that Hermione and Ron lived in, just ten minutes away from Diagon Alley on foot, for their weekly luncheon. On Saturdays, Hermione would prepare lunch, but on Sundays the Potters invited Hermione and Ron to their own house.

“That’s just great,” mumbled Ginny. “I’m married to a legendary workaholic.”

“Doesn’t he come home?” quipped Hermione. “Or does he live in the office?”

“He does, but when he comes home it’s usually almost two in the morning. Then he just eats and goes to sleep. Five minutes of chit-chat with me if I’m lucky, then it’s back to the office,” complained Ginny.

“You’re just there for the food and sex, huh?” said Hermione, winking at her best friend at school, now turned sister-in-law.

“I wish,” said Ginny, rolling her eyes, “He’s too tired to talk to me, let alone make love. And this is from the guy who couldn’t get enough. I mean, we nearly killed each other during our honeymoon!”

“Spare me the details!” cried Hermione in mock horror. “Locked in your rooms the whole day, it’s no wonder you couldn’t describe one inch of Hawaii’s beaches to the rest of us!”

There was a momentary silence as each girl - they still thought of themselves that way, being just 25 and 24 respectively - picked at her stew, lost in her own thoughts. Then they started on more pleasant topics.

“Have you thought of children?” said Hermione later, as she went to the kitchen to get dessert - which was raspberry tart.

“It requires the act of sex, remember?” muttered Ginny sourly. “I don’t think I’m prepared for kids if this goes on. I’ll feel like a single parent. He’d probably have a meeting and leave me in St. Mungo’s while I’m in labour. Eight centimeters dilated.”

“I was thinking,” said Hermione, “you need something to spice up your life. Sort of…take Harry’s mind away from the office.”

“Wonderful analysis,” said Ginny sarcastically. “What an illuminating insight into my love life.”

“But seriously…perhaps if you could…I don’t know…” mumbled Hermione, toying with her raspberry tart.

“What am I going to do, follow in your footsteps and wait for Harry to come home wearing lingerie and a salacious grin? He’d probably acknowledge my presence by falling asleep on the couch.”

“There are more subtle ways, though your idea isn’t without merit,” said Hermione, quirking an eyebrow.

“And what does the font of sexual wisdom have to say about these ‘subtle ways’?” Ginny demanded

“Why, nothing at all,” smirked Hermione. “Figure it out yourself,” she declared.

Ginny’s eyes narrowed. “If you don’t help me with Harry, I’m going to have to tell Mother - and Tonks - about the furry handcuffs and the silk ribbons I found in your wardrobe when I came to borrow your dress the other day,” she said. “And the ‘reference books’ you keep under one of Fred’s Invisibility Hats.”

Hermione’s eyes widened in shock and horror, and a pink blush crept up her neck. “How did you…?”

“I tripped over the Invisiblity Hat, tipping it over and revealing its…lurid contents…and the toys fell on me when I was searching for the dress.”

“You wouldn’t…”

“…dare?” said Ginny, completing her sentence for her. “Oh, I would. I wonder how much Fred and George would pay for a family-wide exposé of my dear favourite sister-in-law’s love life?”

“Fine,” muttered Hermione, defeated. “All you have to do is to just get his mind off the office and on you... so bake a batch of cookies.”

“Cookies?” said Ginny incredulously. “Did you say cookies?”

“Yes,” said Hermione, smiling. “Cookies, with a touch of…”

Ginny’s cheeks coloured as Hermione whispered conspiratorially into her ear.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

No. 2, Drew Lane, London

That Night

Harry James Potter sighed as he stepped out of the fireplace. It was nearly eleven at night, and it was considered an earlier night than usual for him. In addition to beating off a vampire attack on the Albanian Ministry, he’d been called back to England - just moments after throwing the last vampire into jail - to deal with a board of inquiry as to why exactly he’d fired an Impediment Jinx at the Bethnal Green Muggle-baiters.

Apparently they were wondering whether Harry was ‘abusing’ the kids with his ‘exceptional’ powers.

After explaining for the fifth time why he’d had to hex them - they were firing back Stunners, after all, and breaking the International Statute of Secrecy - Harry had stormed out of the Auror offices and Flooed back home in a fit of temper.

“Gin?” he called. “I’m home.”

Harry dropped his briefcase by the fireplace - where he could pick it up quickly if there was yet another frenzied dash in the morning, of which he was fairly sure there would be - and snuck into the kitchen to see if there was anything to eat.

There was. Ginny sat there in her nightgown, with a tray of cookies - cookies! - in front of her.

“Hi, Harry,” said Ginny cheerfully. “I decided to bake cookies today.”

Harry grinned. Cookies…he liked those. Nothing like a little finger food at the end of a long, emotionally-draining day to help him wind down.

He took one. It was good. Better than any he’d tasted before. There was a hint of an exotic taste there…perhaps some sort of herb…?

“They’re good, Gin. Thanks,” he said, putting an arm around his wife’s waist and pulling her to him while kissing her.

“It’s a special type of biscuit, with a special type of ingredient in it.”

“Oh?” said Harry idly, reaching for a fourth biscuit. “What ingredient? I tasted something exceptionally aromatic, but I couldn’t place it.”

“Oh, you’ll never guess. It’s…” and she whispered into his ear with a wicked grin.

Harry dropped the biscuit, and smiled a wolfish, predatorial grin.

“Witch,” he said, before scooping Ginny up and carrying her - giggling madly - up to the bedroom.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

No. 15, Humbert Lane, London

The Next Saturday

“So, I take it things are back to normal?” asked Hermione.

“Oh yes,” said Ginny happily. “All is coming up roses. Harry’s realised the error of his ways, I had a meeting with Diodorus Siculus and gave him an earful, and I have to say that I am now totally satisfied with Harry’s, ah…conduct. Thanks to you, Hermione,” she added with a sidelong look.

“Oh?” said Hermione innocently, glancing round to ensure Ron - who was reading several reports nearby - hadn’t heard. Some things were better off being kept secret between the two girls…

“Yes,” confirmed Ginny. “Everything back to normal. I’m quire sure that after this, dear Diodorus is not going to bug Harry with any more PR stunts, functions or anything that shouldn’t be Harry’s bailiwick. And Harry’s got an incentive to stay home and help with chores.”

“You two are all right then?” asked Hermione, who was dying of curiosity but didn’t want to ask.

“Most definitely,” nodded Ginny. “Why, he’s even promised to talk more often. Everything is just fine.”

“Everything?” prompted the bushy-haired witch.

“Everything,” repeated Ginny, grinning slyly at Hermione to let her know that she wasn’t spilling the beans until Hermione got up the pluck to ask.

“You told him what you used in the cookies?” demanded Hermione, who couldn’t bear to play coy anymore. “He knew what it was? He knew what it meant?”

“Oh yes,” said Ginny, smiling wickedly. “He spent the next two hours, ah…emphatically demonstrating that he knew exactly what colostrum is…”

The End

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Author’s Note: Have a cookie? Anyone? Anyone?

Reviews 8

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