A/N: four day weekend woo! Thank you for all the follows and favorites! So grateful you're all taking the time to read! (I'm exclamation point happy right now apparently) This was a Hinny prompt, but I incorporated some Ron & Harry brotp time as per Lolabasyang's request :)

Harry had been awake for a long time. A very long time. Long enough that he had that weird airy feeling in his neck, but his shoulders were filled with knots that felt like tiny rocks had somehow wormed their way into his muscles, never to leave. And the headache…don't get me started.

"What'd you say mate?"

Harry had apparently been awake long enough that he no longer had the ability to keep his thoughts just that…thoughts. "Nothing, Ron. Just thinking." He ruffled his hair tiredly, eyes blinking rapidly in an attempt to rid them of the grit that settles in once you're awake for more than seventy-two hours. That's right…over seventy-two…I am not being a baby.

Ron dropped his head to the conference room table with a 'thunk' and groaned, "I just want to go home and see Hermione. Is that too much to ask?"

"Apparently for Robards, yes," Harry grumbled mutinously. Normally he'd be a much better sport, but did he mention he's been awake for over seventy-two hours…well might as well say it one more time, just to be sure…seventy-two hours.

"My ears are burning, someone must be talking about me," a gruff voice sounded from behind. Harry jumped in surprise, smacking his kneecaps on the metal table painfully, ouch, jostling the white Ministry issued china that littered the shiny silver surface. If he was more lucid, he'd be embarrassed. But right now, the only words he could think were bed and Ginny…Ginny and bed…that sounds nice.

Ron, always quick on his feet, jumped in, "Yes sir, we were just wondering if we'd given you all that you needed?"

The director's eyebrows shot up into what used to be his hairline. He eyed the two aurors with a strange expression, almost appearing as if he was suppressing a smile. Which was impossible. Because Robards does not smile. Unless you make him fruitcake. Actually, unless Molly Weasley makes him a fruitcake…

Just as Robards opened his mouth to answer, Harry scrunched his face in thought, rubbing his eyes childishly, "Sir, what day is it?"

Harry could hear Ron let out a distressed moan, muttering something about 'no good best mates who need to learn keep their mouths shut.' If he hadn't been awake for over three days, Harry might've had a retort, or, and this was even more likely, he wouldn't have asked such a dim-witted question in the first place. But he had. So he did. This time, Robards' face really did lift in what could be called some type of grin. For a normal person, it was more like an even expression. But Gawain Robards made frowning an Olympic sport, so his neutral was the every-man's ear-to-ear, 'I just won free chocolate frogs for life,' grin. Sadly, Harry was in no position to enjoy it, or the fact that he'd been the one to bring it about. He was too distracted by the spots floating in front of his eyes. That one's sparkling a bit. Not like Ginny's eyes sparkle though. Ginny.

Ron coughed, "Er- sir, if you don't have anything urgent-"

Robards waved him away with a bear paw of a hand, "Get him out of here and home Weasley. You've given me all I need for now. And if I have more questions, we can take care of them after you two take off the next few days."

Harry slumped in his chair a bit, picking at a smudge on his boots…one of the smudges…I never knew there was so much mud in the world.

The red head got a firm grip around his partner's arm and yanked him to a standing position. Harry pulled his arm away with a scowl reminiscent of his godson's toddler years, "Oi! Don't manhandle me."

Heat spread up Ron's neck rapidly, melding with the sunburn he'd obtained on day one, "I wasn't manhandling you. And even if I was, you're just laying around like a lump. And if your face was any indication you're thinking about my sister. And if you're thinking about her like I think you are-"

"She is my wife Ron. I think I'm entitled," Harry snarled, fist coming down on top of the table with a clatter.

Gawain eyed the duo unabashed, "Alright, both of you home. I don't want to see your sorry faces for the next week."

Both men froze, Harry suddenly achieving some measure of lucidity, "Is this because- I- we just-"

Robards cut him off before he could flounder much longer, "You're not in trouble." Ron's eyes narrowed in confusion. Ignoring any attempts at questions or arguments, the director continued, "You were on duty full time for three weeks, and then went out on that call, which ended up with you two pulling almost ninety hours straight on duty in less than…comfortable conditions. Then this one goes and gets himself injured."

Harry wriggled his defrosting toes in his boots, thought I might lose one of you guys.

"Well?" Robards barked, eyebrow quirked.

In a swirl of mud and blood stained robes and cloaks, the partners shuffled quickly toward the private floo. Ron eyed Harry speculatively, "You alright to get home then?"

Blinking sleepily, Harry smiled, "You're my best mate, y'know?"

"Guess that answers my question," Ron muttered, pulling the pot of floo powder toward him, throwing the green granules into the flames and calling out their destination as he pulled Harry in behind him.

Seconds later, the red head tumbled out onto the rug, tugging Harry behind him. The lankier and less coherent of the two righted himself, only swaying slightly as he scanned the room, obviously searching for something, or someone, in particular. His green eyes lit up when a diminutive woman with fiery locks piled on top of her head and a worn sweater emblazoned with a homey H stepped into the doorway. With a gasp, Harry grinned widely, appearing for all the world as if the sight of his wife cleared his foggy brain, that is, until his eyes rolled back and he collapsed into Ron's bulky arms, "I thought he was supposed to do this to you."

"Oh stuff it Ron, what's wrong with him?" Ginny shot back, clearing books and magazines from the settee, "Just lay him right there."

With a huff to gather his waning strength, Ron hefted Harry toward the couch, slipping his cloak from his shoulders before tucking him into the cushions as gently as he could after being awake for nearly four days. Ginny thundered back into the room, a nicely organized first aid kit grasped in one hand, and a cold compress in the other, "What'd you do to him?"

Not waiting for an answer, she settled down next to the couch and pulled Harry's eyelids up, running her fingers gently over his pale cheeks, before dropping the kit on the cluttered coffee table and the cloth on his colorless forehead.

"I didn't do anything. He's just tired. And maybe he had some pain potions," Ron half muttered half grumbled as he slumped into the wingback chair nestled in the corner near Harry's head.

"Pain potions?"

"I wasn't there, so I don't know what they were…" Ron answered unhelpfully, biting his lip.

Ginny shook her head, deftly selecting a small vial of smelling salts, holding them under Harry's long, angular nose for only a moment before his eyes shot open dramatically.

Quickly replacing the stopper and tossing the salts in the general direction of the table, Ginny leaned forward, using her fingers to push the sweaty hair back from his forehead, running the flannel along his face before tossing it on the table carelessly. Harry looked at her with a sweet, if a little smarmy, expression, lifting one arm to drape over her knees, "What happened?"

Ron stood, peering at Harry upside down over the armrest, ""You fainted…straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn't have to go to such extremes."

Harry's brow furrowed in confusion as Ginny shooed her brother away impatiently, fighting a smirk, "Oi I'll not have you making any moves on my husband."

"Don' worry Gin. No contest," Harry muttered, knitting his mud streaked fingers with her cool, clean ones.

Ginny placed a chaste kiss to his forehead, then turned her attention to Ron, a slightly smug expression on her face, "I win."

"Well I'm not about to try and compete with you," Ron sassed back, striding toward the kitchen, slamming cabinets indicating his foraging ways.

Seeing that Harry was secured snugly on the couch, Ginny followed her brother into the kitchen, propping her hip against the sideboard. Shooting a quick glance back toward a dozing Harry, she whispered, "Care to tell me exactly what happened?"

"Well you know we've been away for a bit," Ron started, sandwich in one hand, Butterbeer in the other as he sat at the small kitchenette.

Rolling her eyes, Ginny set about preparing herself half a sandwich, grimacing at the smell of mustard. Piling the home baked bread, care of Molly Weasley, with thinly sliced roast beef, she prompted, "Yeah. I picked that up."

Ron gulped down a large bite, swiping at a stray smudge of mustard with a crumpled napkin, "Don't sass."

Hooking an ankle around one of the barstools, Ginny tucked in to her snack, answering primly, "I do what I want."

"Anyway, we got into a spot of trouble at the end," Ron supplied, taking a long draw from the half full bottle. He sighed thoughtfully, adding an afterthought, "His toes are fine."

Ginny choked, smacking her chest, "Toes?"

Waving her off with a calm hand, Ron siphoned the crumbs from the table in the expert manner of a messy eater married to Hermione, "It was cold. But anyway, after we got the two bastards and sent 'em back with a portkey, I was an arse and tripped."

"Oh Ronnie," Ginny teased, gesturing for Ron to follow her back to the living room where Harry slept.

Ron flicked an imperious finger toward his slumbering partner, "This one had to grab onto me like a bloody berk. Dislocated his bloody shoulder."

Ginny grimaced, knowing all too well the pain of a dislocated shoulder. Rolling her own sympathetically, she glanced at Harry, who shifted a little restlessly, "So now he's?"

"'m fine, Gin. Jus' tired," Harry murmured, smacking his lips together. Eyes now open; he rolled onto his side, wincing in pain as he put pressure on the forgotten shoulder injury. Ginny stifled an affectionate laugh at his now horrendously crooked spectacles that pinched the bridge of his nose comically.

"That's why I came. With the pain potion and the sleep deprivation, I'm surprised he remembered his own name, let alone how to floo home," Ron said with a chuckle, absentmindedly adjusting a gaudy shepherdess knick-knack Aunt Muriel had given them as a wedding gift in its place on the mantelpiece.

Glaring, Ginny strode over, shoving her brother toward the fireplace. Ron gasped, flailing in surprise, "Oi! Stop manhandling me. I could've broken that."

"I wish," Ginny grumbled, grinning slightly, "Now get out."

Wrenching himself from her Quidditch honed grip, Ron turned, an affronted hand grasping his chest, "Well fine, no need to thank me."

Ginny snickered, "Thank you for being a clumsy git."

"I meant about the- you know what? Next time I'll let him accidentally floo to-" he paused, "I'm too tired to think of something clever and terrible."

"What's your excuse the rest of the time?" Ginny taunted, landing a pointed flick on his freckled nose.

Throwing a handful of floo powder into the the flames, Ron stepped forward, mumbling about 'bloody ungrateful sisters.'

Ginny offered a casual salute, "Bye Ronnie."

She stood, blinking at the flames, her fiery hair glinting in the light, lost in thought as she absentmindedly stroked her stomach.A sigh from behind her back broke her train of thought, "Harry, love, you ok?" Ginny closed the distance between them quickly as he sat up gradually, "Better now," he paused, bending to unlace his grubby boots, "Can feel my toes…and you're here."

Sitting down next to him, Ginny gently pushed him, his back braced by the freshly fluffed cushions, "Yeah, and you're here." She bent forward to continue the project of removing his boots, "I missed you particularly."

Harry ran his fingers through her hair, "Robards gave us the week, so we've time to get reacquainted."

Lightly massaging his calves after pulling the second boot from his tired feet, Ginny murmured, "That's wonderful."

Head dropping back at his wife's ministrations, Harry practically moaned his agreement. Ginny righted herself, nuzzling under Harry's chin familiarly, working his robes open with one hand. She paused, halfway down, her hand sliding under the utility fabric in search of his comforting heartbeat, "It'll give us the chance to plan."

For a moment, Harry simply hummed in agreement, reveling in the warmth of Ginny, until her last statement registered, "Er- what are we planning for?"

Aside from her hand stilling, and a slight sucking in of her breath before speaking, as if she'd been surprised all over again, Ginny stated calmly, "The baby."

The lanky arm around her shoulder tightened as Harry absorbed the news, his heartbeat under her palm accelerating fantastically. Gradually, he regained the ability to move his limbs, starting with the tips of his fingers, which stroked up and down the scratchy wool that covered Ginny's arms as he whispered, "Baby?"

Nodding ever so slightly, Ginny matched his tone, "Yeah."

Suddenly, Harry sat up, aches and pains forgotten as he pulled her bodily from the couch and plopped her into his lap, eyes wide in wonder as he pushed up the sweater, as if he expected some sign of the baby to appear on her otherwise trim midriff. Not tearing his eyes away, he breathed quietly, "When did you?"

Ginny giggled at his chilled hands on her toasty belly, lacing her warm digits with his, "The afternoon you left. It was too late to tell you, and I wouldn't have wanted to anyway."

Harry grunted in disapproval as Ginny leapt to explain, "It would've been too distracting, dear."

Still stroking her smooth stomach with calloused thumbs, Harry tucked his face into her neck, kissing her lightly, "We should go inside."

Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, closing the remaining distance between them, Ginny laughed, "Quite forward, Mr. Potter."

Laughter rumbled through Harry's chest as he ran his nose up the column of her neck to her ear, gingery tendrils tickling his face in the process. In a low voice that sped up Ginny's breathing, he defended, "Well you are having my baby."

With a shuddering sigh, the young Mrs. Potter worked her fingers down the front of his robes once again, gradually revealing swathes of pale, taught skin in the process. Harry, meanwhile placed more insistent kisses across her jawline, "Gin."

"Harry."

After a brief but heavily meaningful kiss to her lips, Harry pulled away, "I really smell."

Eyes slightly glossy, Ginny carded her fingers through Harry's mud caked hair, voice scratchy with emotion, "I don't mind."

Lids sliding closed over bright emerald irises, Harry smiled softly, "D'you think you can help me wash up?"

Ginny let out a slightly watery laugh, slipping from his lap, tugging him up in the process, "Is this a line?"

Stepping around his discarded boots, Harry wrapped Ginny in his arms from behind, trusting her to lead the way to the loo as he focused on nuzzling the juncture between her neck and shoulder, "Is it working?"