A/N: I lied. I wrote this while also writing a cover letter so woo! This is way cuter ha.


Over the years, Harry's tried to become less of an overly suspicious individual. Which is difficult to begin with considering the way he spent the majority of his formative years, but coupled with his chosen profession, which involves situations where not thinking the worst can mean maiming or death – Harry tends to be a bit cautious.

So, when he comes home to an eerily – that's right eerily – quiet home and an unmarked package on his kitchen table, he's a little on edge. Aside from Death Eater wannabes out for revenge (savior or no he has plenty of people who hate him), Ginny's status as an up and coming in the Quidditch world means they've had their fair share of stalking scares so it's not unheard of for undesirable things to be delivered.

Except thanks to Bill, the wards usually prevent packages from unknown senders.

All this means Harry has been staring at the fist-sized box for a quarter of an hour before he prods it with the tip of his wand. Yes that's the official way to deal with suspicious packages. No mysterious ticking or strange gases start eeking out so at this point he's fairly certain the worst he's about to get is a faked photo of one of them marrying some random witch or wizard and as disturbing as that is, at least it won't kill him – hopefully.

Gritting his teeth, he disconnects the spello-tape with quick slides of his fingers and tears the brown paper away to find – Ginny?

Tiny Ginny. Tiny Harpy Ginny.

The figurine is still strapped into the official plastic and cardboard box but that doesn't keep it from winking at him cheekily and a blush rises onto his cheeks. Until he remembers that's not Ginny. And Ginny is his wife. So winks shouldn't lead to blushes anymore. Ideally anyway.

He's undoing the ties that hold the doll in place when he remembers Ron's ill-fated Krum figure he'd gotten at the Quidditch World Cup the summer before Fourth Year and can't help but think he prefers this one.

In the end he plays with the little figure longer than he'd like to admit but the charm work involved is a lot more reactive and realistic than he thought. Tiny Ginny follows him through the house – maybe it imprinted? – as he prepares a mug of tea and swipes some biscuits from the cupboard until they settle in the living room where she circles over his head while he reads Quidditch Today.

Some unidentified amount of time later, Harry hears the front door click shut and the locks slide into place, followed by some rustling of fabric and plastic. "Harry?"

He answers with a grunt but is two thirds of the way through an article on the rise of protective gear in professional games – which is more interesting than he'd guessed.

Two thumps sound as Ginny kicks off her shoes and strides in from the front hall, arms laden with copious amounts of take out from their favorite Chinese place. "Harry I'm – I see you got my gift."

Harry looks up at that, "I – "

She gestures toward the doll swirling in figure eights around his head, grinning smugly.

"Oh my god."

Ginny saunters over to the table and sets the bags down gently, flicking her wand toward the kitchen for two chilled Butterbeers that float in gently. Harry pops the cork out of both and glances at his wife, "You know I was joking, you didn't have to buy me one."

"If it makes you feel better I got it for free," Ginny drawls as she works her way around the couch.

Harry quirks his brow but doesn't respond verbally so Ginny continues, "Plus you're going to need it."

"Divorcing me dear?"

Ginny wraps her arms around him from behind and nuzzles at his neck, working her way to nibbling at his ear. "Nah, I'm keeping you around for a bit."

Harry hums, "So why am I lonely, then?"

With two short taps to his chest, she moves back toward the table and starts pulling food out of the bags, shooting him a look when he eyes her Kung Pao until their chosen dinners are dispersed. Once she's finished, she glances at him with forced casualness, "Well I'm going to be awfully busy prepping for the World Cup so – "

His lips are on hers before she finishes and they dissolve into gleeful laughter, collapsed across the carpet.