A/N: YAY finally. I was going to post this earlier but I wrote another 800 words because I felt like it was too short. Hope you all enjoy this one! The end of the chapter does set up some events for the next chapter but if you have any ideas or prompts of things you'd like me to try and work in, please let me know! This is just a fun fluff fic so I'm open to suggestions!
Harry hesitates, doesn't actually link their fingers but lets his knuckles caress hers. "I feel bad, y'know."
"That I'm going to get carpal tunnel from all those forms?" Ginny teases, knotting their fingers together as they slowly make their way down the deserted corridor.
He swipes his thumb across the back of her hand. "The last two weeks of your life have been essentially been nurse Harry back to health duty."
"Doctor Harry back to health," Ginny corrects, squeezing his palm, "So as your doctor and your – "
"Girlfriend sounds ok to me," Harry finishes, slowing to a stop, his back against the wall as he pulls Ginny closer.
She smirks up at him, toying with his practice kit, "Well if it's just ok…"
"No, more than," Harry laughs, dropping her hand to grip her waist, tickling at the waistband of her skirt, "Though I'm not a fan of these tucked in shirts."
Pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw, smooth and fresh with the scent of his aftershave, Ginny strokes his hair back, "Got to be professional."
Harry nuzzles her temple, "Guess so. I'll see you tonight, girlfriend?"
"Yes you will, official, HR approved boyfriend," Ginny answers, patting his cheek and sauntering away, heels clacking, "Now I'm off to do what I'm actually being paid for."
"Which is keeping the team healthy," Harry puts in, jogging to catch up, "particularly me, given my history," he slants his gaze toward Ginny's, her lips quirking, "and health is closely related to happiness so – "
She cuts him off with a short kiss, "Don't be a wanker," then swiftly smacks his rear and winks, "Now go play football and get that little arse all tight for me."
Turning toward the weights room, Harry points an accusing finger at her, "Excuse me I have a very tight arse."
Ginny's retort is cut off by a throat clearing behind them and Harry's eyes widen as Wood strolls closer, arms folded across his chest, clipboard in hand. After a moment for recovery Harry turns his attention to the team manager, "I do though, right?"
And if he didn't know better, Harry would think Wood's lips twitched before he grumbled, "Potter get your tight little arse down to the locker room."
A triumphant grin spreads across Harry's face as he salutes and trots backwards, "See? Tight!"
After he disappears around the corner, Ginny turns to try and make some sort of apologies while keeping the laughter from her voice, Wood's expression entirely serious as he blinks once, then twice, and his eyes wrinkle with a smile, "Congratulations Dr. Weasley."
Brain nearly fried at the uncharacteristic humor on Wood's face, Ginny almost doesn't hear her phone buzzing in her bag. When she finally does, she presses her thumb to unlock the screen and stifles a snort when she sees a text from Harry waiting.
Harry: [peach emoji] it's got nothing on mine
Ginny: stop sexting me at work
Harry: excuse me dr.
Harry: I was discussing fruit
Harry: which is an important part of my diet
Ginny: keep your fruit in your pants and we'll discuss it later
Traffic is light by the time Ginny's making her way home from the hospital. After finishing up some housekeeping type duties at the stadium, she'd been scheduled to perform a minor procedure at the surgery. Of course, her desire to return home in time to see a certain footballer and the fact that she skipped lunch meant everything that could go poorly during the operation did. It was a dozen tiny things – the patient taking a bit too long to wake up from the anesthesia, a gangly twelve-year-old rugby player being rushed into emergency with a severe sprain and a coach flushed with worry, and three broken printers – but by the time she's scrubbed out and riding the lift, she's dead tired enough that she's halfway down the hall before she realizes she's on the way to Harry's flat.
And when she's standing in front of his door, the thought of seeing his bright green eyes, his smile flashing at her the overpowering vision in her mind, she forgets all the reasons she should go back to her own flat and pass out. Harry answers on the third knock and ushers her in without hesitation.
Stepping over the threshold hesitantly, Ginny lingers near Harry's discarded line up of trainers, cleats, and boots. "I don't know why I'm even here – "
"Because you could smell my stir fry from the street?" Harry laughs, hands grasping her elbows and slowly pulling her further into the flat.
Ginny kicks her trainers off haphazardly and lets Harry guide her toward the kitchen, perking at the spiced scents wafting from the simmering wok. Hands drifting to her waist, Harry leans forward to press a kiss to her lips and Ginny ducks away, forehead dropping to his shoulder. "I'm pretty disgusting right now."
"I think not," Ginny's mouth drops open to fire an answer back but Harry doesn't relent, "But if you would feel better, you can use my shower and steal some clothes."
Nuzzling into the crook of his neck, Ginny sighs, "It would be nice to be out of my scrubs and not smell like disinfectant."
"If you use my shampoo, you'll trade hospital for 'clean 'n' fresh,' if I'm not mistaken."
Ginny chuckles against his throat and presses her lips to his steady pulse. "Thanks."
Once the bathroom's filling with steam, warm tendrils wrapping around her and relaxing her sore muscles, Ginny finally feels the stress of the day dripping from her. She peels her socks from her feet and tugs her scrub top off with some difficulty as her body begins its rebellion after a too long day and her arms somehow manage to tangle themselves together. It's in this state that Harry finds her, one green eye closed and the other pointedly looking at her pale toes, chipped yellow paint bright against the plush bath mat. "I brought you some clean clothes and a towel – " his gaze darts up and he chuckles, "You need help?"
"No," Ginny grunts out, finally freeing herself of the pale blue scrub top and scowling at the sweat stains across her Henley, "Thank you."
Smirking, Harry sets the change of clothes and towel on the countertop and salutes Ginny teasingly before slipping back out the door. Once she sheds the rest of her clothes and steps beneath the spray of the shower, Ginny's half convinced this is the greatest experience of her life, nearly moaning as the hot water pounds her shoulders. Harry's shower is surprisingly clean, particularly for a bachelor, tiles shined bright – likely from the after shower cleaner tucked in the corner opposite his shampoo and soaps.
When she squeezes a generous dollop of the pearlescent liquid into her palm, Ginny's hit with the heady aroma of Harry and she's not at all prepared. Despite the over-warm water massaging her skin 'til it's red, a shiver runs up her spine while goose bumps rise on her freckled forearms. And it only gets stronger as she works her hair into a lather, the fresh, minty suds sliding over her curves and pooling at her feet while she tries not to think of Harry standing just here, washing his hair, the bubbles slipping down his –
Blowing out a short, impatient, breath through her nose, Ginny finishes working the shampoo through her locks and scrubs everything else with a sort of gritty body wash Harry's got on the lip of the tub.
By the time she's stepping free of the spray and turning the taps off with a handful of squeaks, her skin is rosy and the mirror's a foggy blur. After toweling off, with many creaks and groans accompanying her twisting and contorting, Ginny slips into the perfectly worn jersey with POTTER emblazoned across the back and the nondescript grey cotton joggers that bunch around her ankles.
She folds her discarded things somewhat neatly and twists the towel around her head, not sure how long she's kept Harry waiting while she luxuriated, and steps from the steamy bathroom and back into the flat, a blast of cool air tickling her still-damp skin. Puttering around on tiptoes, Ginny tucks her shoes into the front corner with Harry's and sets her pile on top of them, dragging her abandoned purse toward it as well.
When she stands, towel crooked on her head and sleeves drooping over her fingers, Harry's frozen in place with plates and cutlery in hand. "Hi."
Grinning, she pushes the towel to the center of her head and steps closer. "Hi."
Cheeks flushing, Harry blinks rapidly and lets his eyes dart to the kitchen table as he sets two places somewhat clumsily. "Shower was alright?"
Ginny smiles to herself and searches for glasses and serviettes while Harry finishes his overly meticulous place settings and returns to the kitchen, eyes glazing a bit when she turns to him and she can't hold back the teasing. "Really? Overtired, soggy, and dressed in baggy clothes. That's what does it for you?"
Reaching forward, Harry takes the cups and napkins from her hands, walking her backward until the small of her back is pressed against the countertop as he murmurs, "Pretty much everything about you 'does it' for me, Gin."
Sunlight's breaking through a crack in the thick draperies against his windows when Harry wakes – bright sunlight. It's been a good while since his schedule's allowed for a late wake up, and waking up late with a beautiful woman in his arms is a decided improvement to his usual crack-of-dawn, cold bed routine.
When he nuzzles closer, nose tucked into her sleep-mussed locks, Harry can't help but breath in her scent. There's the familiarity of his own soaps, but stronger is an earthy, light smell that's just so Ginny. And while he feels a bit daft for smelling his girlfriend, he can't quite bring himself to stop.
Until her voice sounds, scratchy with sleep, "Are you sniffing me?"
He freezes for a moment, before throwing caution to the wind and pulling her closer, "Have a problem with that, Weasley?"
Twisting in his arms to face him, Ginny blinks away the bleariness in her chocolate brown eyes. "So long as it's good sniffing."
Harry chuckles and kisses her, despite the niggling fear of morning breath, and grins. "Of course. You smell like me."
She pushes away from his chest with a mock glare. "Well if you just want to smell yourself – " and she's half out of the bed before Harry's arms band around her middle and tug her back beneath the crumpled sheets. "Don't know where you think you're going."
Eyebrows raised, Ginny smirks, "I thought I'd leave you alone to…smell yourself."
"Are you – " Harry's response is cut off by a familiar trick knock at the door, "Sirius."
"Yes I am," Ginny laughs, but Harry's got his face buried between their pillows, and he's groaning too loud to hear her.
When he doesn't emerge, Ginny runs her hand up his spine, fingers cool beneath his t-shirt, and leans close. "We don't have to answer whoever it is."
As if in retort, Harry's phone lights up on the nightstand with a photo of a shiny black dog posed next to an even shinier motorbike and Harry groans again. "Yes we do."
Ginny sighs and leans closer, her hand inching higher as she nips at his earlobe and whispers, "Are you sure?"
Harry turns and tips Ginny onto her back, mouth hot and seeking on hers while she sneaks her other hand beneath his tee with a moan.
She's just about worked his top off when another knock sounds at the door, followed by a muffled entreaty for 'Baby Prongs' to open up, and Harry falls away with a groan. "Why does the universe conspire against me?"
Pressing a short kiss to his lips, Ginny reaches across his chest and grabs his mobile as it begins vibrating with another call, answering on the third ring while Harry gapes helplessly, pinned beneath her strategically placed knees and elbows.
"Harry Potter's phone," Ginny chirps.
"Well shite, did the kid get himself a bird?" Harry hears Sirius bark out, laughing entirely too hard.
Ginny sits back, knees still pinning Harry's arms to his sides while she perches on his middle. "No birds here I'm afraid, but I am his girlfriend and you are interrupting."
Mouth dropping open, Harry widens his eyes at Ginny, who's still entirely unintimidated as Sirius' laugh sounds on the other end. "I like you so far Miss?"
"Doctor Weasley," Ginny corrects, fingers spearing through Harry's messy locks.
Smirking triumphantly, Ginny lets out a chuckle, "Thank you, Mr.?"
"Black, Sirius Black."
"Well Black, Sirius Black," Ginny parrots, "You seem awfully important to Harry, given the fact that I had to wrestle him to the mattress to keep him from answering the door."
"My godson is finally making some good life choices," Sirius laughs.
Ginny raises her brows threateningly at Harry as she releases his arms, allowing him to sit up and wrap them around her middle. The kiss he presses to her pulse point leaves her a little breathless as she answers, "Well Godfather, we'd like to have a bit of a lie in, but how about an early supper? The three of us."
Pausing his ministrations, Harry pulls away, brow quirked and Ginny mirrors his expression, realizing he might not be too chuffed about her planning his day and inserting herself into it – and maybe he sees her face cloud because he leans close to her non-phone covered ear and whispers, "You sure you're up for Sirius Black?"
She doesn't respond at first, nodding along as Sirius apparently gives his lunch requirements and signs off, then tosses Harry's phone toward the foot of the bed. "Hope I didn't overstep."
Harry's hands slip under her shirt and caress her spine rather distractingly. "Nah, just concerned that Sirius'll scare you off."
"I'm tough stuff," Ginny scoffs, "Did you forget about my six brothers?"
He tilts his head in acquiescence and Ginny goes on, "Plus crazy Aunt Muriel and Phlegm."
She's already pushing him back into the pillows when Harry asks, "Do I want to know who 'Phlegm' is?"
Slanting her mouth over his Ginny doesn't answer for a moment, and Harry doesn't seem too disappointed, but she still pulls a breath away, letting her hands wander teasingly, "Maybe talk about that later?"
Harry nods emphatically and pulls her back down, grinning, "Much later."