A/N: someone on tumblr asked for cute and romantic so hopefully this satisfies :) Also contemplating a new Hinny multichapter (and still planning Demigod part 2!)

Wind whips against the windowpane, the chill seeping in through minute cracks and trickling past the tightly woven wool of Harry's Weasley jumper – this one nearly a year old and once again the deep color of his eyes. His quill stops scratching as he smirks to himself, knowing Ginny oh so casually hints to her mother each year about how much Harry likes that particular shade. Personally, he has no strong feelings one way or another, but Ginny certainly did. And when she was happy, he was happy – Ginny made sure of it. Frequently.

So Harry would wear emerald green until the day he kicked it.

But today, the jumper is less about enticing a certain fiery red head and more about staving off the increasingly frigid London winter. With a sigh, he places his quill down carefully to avoid splatter and leans from his desk chair toward the cozy armchair nestled nearby to tug the cozy knit blanket from its arm – momentarily forgetting he is in fact a wizard, despite the picture of his girlfriend that winks at him from the left side of his desk and the wand that rocks back and forth at his right.

Fingers finally catching on the soft nap of the throw, Harry grits his teeth and leans a little further, letting out a surprised yelp with the final shift slides the chair out from beneath him and he ends up with bent glasses and a face full of carpet.

"Alright Potter?" an amused voice asks from behind him.

Scrunching his nose, Harry turns his head to the side, too defeated and cold to move, "No need to sound so smug Weasley."

He hears her chuckle – full and warm – followed by the quiet sound of her feet padding across the room. "I laugh because I love you."


She doesn't answer, but instead strides closer, her dainty feet – complete with adorably freckled toes she likes to wriggle in his face after Quidditch practice – appear before his eyes.

One of his slim hands comes up to stroke across the arch of her foot, just light enough to not tickle, before she squats down and lays herself parallel with him, her face inches away. "Tired dear?"

Harry's eyes drift closed as her fingers card through his hair, trim nails scratching at his scalp in an unbelievably pleasant manner, and his brain is only capable of a wordless grunt-like response.

Ginny laughs again – this time low and quiet – and he feels her breath fan across the bridge of his nose as she pulls his mangled spectacles from their awkward perch. "You're too clumsy to be the savior of the wizarding world. I bet Lockhart just taught you his ways during all those detentions and you took it to the next level."

He snorts at that, opening his eyes in search of what occupation her hands have found now – he'd much rather they did something that involved touching him – only to find she's slipped them onto her face and is blinking at him owlishly, her brown eyes distorted by the strong prescription and his own dismal eyesight. "No wonder you like to keep these on when we snog – you're bloody blind."

They're mirroring each other at this point, both with one arm tucked to pillow their head as the fire crackles across the room and soon enough Harry becomes unhappy with the space that remains between them, using his free arm to tug her closer as he begins placing chaste kisses in strategic places across her face. Starting with just beneath her ear – she sighs – further down her jawline – a deep hum of approval – her cheekbone – a groan as he moves away from her lips.

"You are a tease, Harry James," Ginny breathes as he rubs his nose against hers gently.

Harry chuckles low, slipping his hand beneath the hem of her t-shirt and she gasps loudly, "You're freezing," and pulls his hand to her lips, blowing warm breath and placing even warmer kisses across the too cold fingers.

Sighing happily, Harry murmurs, "I think they're better now," and slips his warmed digits into her wild locks, his mouth pressing over hers urgently.

More than receptive, Ginny rolls so he looms over her, nose scrunching at the hardness of the floor before Harry wordlessly and wandlessly summons a cushion from the chair and slips it beneath her head.

Ginny pulls away, expression incredulous but otherwise looking thoroughly snogged, and waits for an explanation. When she denies him her lips he moves on to her jaw, her ear, her earlobe, her neck.

"Harry. Your wand."

He hums against her collarbone, hands slipping further beneath her shirt, "Which one?"

Letting out a surprised snort, Ginny tugs at his hair, forcing him to look at her, "You're such a boy."

Harry attempts a wink – and fails rather adorably – and smirks, "I know. That's why I have the wand."

"Oh my God."

Snickering, he nuzzles her ear, "Harry'll do just fine."

Landing a careful pinch on his bum – and earning an affronted glare in response – Ginny frowns playfully, "I mean you summoned that pillow without speaking or using your wand. And you were rather deliciously distracted if I do say so myself."

He begins kissing across her cheekbone, before whispering into her ear, "I've told you – for wandless magic you have to want it."

Ginny's mouth opens to ask a follow up question – she's like a bloodhound – but he stops her with a rather sloppy kiss. "I'll take questions after the main presentation dear."