A/N: prompt from diva-gonzo on tumblr! (also my bday is tomorrow)
As they've grown into adults, Harry and Ginny have both learned to cope with the press somewhat. Harry does so begrudgingly and can usually only be induced to discuss Auror office business or how fantastic Ginny was in the latest Harpies match. The latter of which can get soppy if George and alcohol are involved, but Harry's mostly learned his lesson about making deals with the troublemaker.
Ginny too enjoys her privacy, and doesn't appreciate being hounded when she's out for a romantic evening or stops off with her nieces and nephews for a creamy summertime snack at Fortescue's, but she's relatively good with the press. Has had to be really, considering her job forces her into the public eye, at least for Quidditch talk. That is, until she gets pregnant, and everyone seems to think her entire life is their business – and her swollen belly becomes a homing beacon for anyone in a five foot radius.
So a combination of raging hormones, impatience with her whale-like state, and a general instinct to hex anyone who could possibly pose a threat to her unborn child means Ginny has shied away from the wizarding public in the later months of her pregnancy. And Harry, the ever dutiful husband, has borne the brunt of this state of affairs, which lead to a lot of photos of his dark scowl when faced with the press in the midst of various errands for his growing family. One day in particular involved Harry look-a-like Teddy, Ginny's craving for fish and chips from the Leaky Cauldron, and a journalist who assumes the most logical explanation is Harry's secret muggle family he apparently started in the midst of a war.
Still, together, they laugh off most of the strange articles and only achieve a state of righteous indignation once every fortnight or so. Even considering the secret family scandal, things have stayed fairly tame. Until Ginny realized she needed new panties, according to the note she stuck to the bathroom door before she left for Bill and Fleur's cottage that morning. Ginny favors a small out-of-the-way lingerie store in Diagon Alley and Harry's not about to deprive her of the small luxury – especially when she's carrying his currently squash-sized progeny.
He makes it to the shop with relatively little drama and has narrowed down his choices based on particularly vivid memories of Ginny's underthings when a flash goes off behind him, followed by a cloud of green smoke.
Blinking dazedly, Harry turns toward the interloper and frowns disapprovingly, but the gangly teen is already running out the back door, shooed by the blustering shop owner who apologizes profusely and gives Harry his selections free of charge. Which won't eliminate the gossip column that will likely run the next day about Harry Potter's secret proclivities.
It's only once he reaches their flat that Harry realizes he forgot to check the sizes, but really he's not sure what the correct one is anyway. But Ginny's fit – in both senses of the word – and the fabric is stretchy so he putters around the house, enjoying the quiet afternoon until Ginny comes home.
Harry's about a quarter of an hour into his impromptu nap when the floo flares and he hears Ginny exclaim, "Oh you got my note you beautiful man you."
By the time he reaches the kitchen she's mostly nude and hopping about trying to get her second leg into the panties. Her scowl is the only thing that jars him from the train of thought that set off once he was treated to the sight of his scantily clad wife. "It's a bit of a departure from the norm, but I could help you put those on."
Ginny's gaze is warm and mischievous when she turns to him, but she doesn't let the main issue drop just yet. "What size do you think I am Harry? Fleur's the only veela in this family."
Taking a few steps closer, Harry slips the too-small garment from her leg gently as he murmurs, "Could've fooled me."
Her head tilts back so he has full view of her flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes. Her tone is softer but the playfulness remains as she gestures to her rounded middle, "Plus we both know I'm hardly allergic to food at the mo'."
His nose is brushing along her jaw when he rumbles quietly, "Doesn't bother me."
When his hand slips lower, Ginny gasps, "I- noticed."
Harry nibbles at her earlobe and whispers coyly, "Still, I could go switch those out."
Ginny's fingers tug at his hair as she pulls him close. "I rather think our evening won't require knickers."