A/N: Credits to J. K. Rowling who created this fantastic wizarding world.

I have decided not to only post this as a separate story but also add it to this other Harry/Ginny one-shot, since both are about this relationship. I think it's a nice idea to have all Hinny one-shots compiled into one story so that readers can easily access to all. Also, these stories are not chronologically published - I will constantly be jumping backwards and forwards in time according to my inspirations, which sometimes may include a whole lag period (it's been over a year since I last posted :imsorry:). But hopefully all are still enjoyable.

For a split second, a whirlpool twisted the calm, golden air of the serene village dosing off in the summer-like warmth. It was gone before anyone noticed it was there, and in it's place stood a man cloaked in a solemn, black coat that was too billowing and dark to be usual. In one hand he held a suit case, in the other he held a sturdy wooden stick, looking simultaneously incongruous with his grim expression and natural in his grasps, as if it was an innate feature of his body.

Harry didn't move for a while - he didn't want to lift his foot. Closing his eyes, he felt the sun gleam over his messy hair and forehead, and sensed its cheerful rays vexing his eyelids. Releasing a long-repressed sigh, his shoulders slouched a little, and he briskly made his way up the path dividing the lawn in front of his two storey home, and opened the door. He wondered silently why he didn't just Apparated into the house if he knew that the sunlight irritated him so much.

The house was still, as unmoving as the village that snoozed with ease outside its door. Ginny was probably still at Diagon Alley, doing a little shopping before returning home. Harry left his briefcase on the armchair in the snugly organised living room, his mind distractedly hopping back to the day they first moved in, wildly waving wands and moving boxes and furniture around. It was in such a mess that they both slumped down on the soft burgundy sofa, Ginny giggling in his ear as his lips made its way from her cheek to her jaw, and then no her neck. It was in such a mess that he blissfully felt her slender fingers running through his hair, her sparkling fawn eyes invitingly penetrating his green ones, her soft warm lips parted on his, luring him in.

He absent-mindedly thought of how long ago that was (half a year, atmost) as he hung his coat on the peg near the sofa, and after walking upstairs and rellocating the arm chair in his study with a slackened wave of his wand so that it faced the window and allowed him to look at the back yard bellow, Harry settled in it, heaving a second sigh.

He didn't mind the time; he stay motionless in that chair until Ginny came in and sat on the armrest, her tender hand running over his shoulders. Harry looked up at her, and kissed her rouged lips as she bent down towards him.

"Bad day?" Her voice was soft, and as warm as the early summer day.

"Not the best," Harry replied as he placed his hand on her knee, "they brought in one of the last Death Eaters who survived the Battle of Hogwarts today. A nutcase, really."

"Was he hiding in one of the woods in Wales, then?"

"Yeah, they found him at the edge of Coed Felinrhyd. It didn't look like he was having it good. Still believed Voldemort was alive." He paused and cleared throat before resuming. "He smirked when he recognised my scar. Said he that he did it, he killed Remus."

Ginny silently took the hand he had on her knee in her small, smooth ones. He wondered how they could remain so mesmerizingly tender when she practiced with a Quaffle everyday. She sighed and bent down to kiss him on his jet black, rumpled hair. Harry liked how she quietly let him sulk, how she gently moved closer and held on to him as he put his arm around her waist, seeking for security in her warmth. She didn't say anything, she didn't tell him that perhaps this Death Eater had lied to annoy him, or tell him to let it all go and relax. She simply held him in her arms, and sat still as he held her, too. Every time a segment of the painful past came pack to prick his healed wounds, ever since the War ended, she was there by his side to console him, to bring him peace, as he brought her peace as well. Harry closed his eyes and leaned onto Ginny, and together they sat there until dusk sprawled across the sky, clear as water colour diffusing on paper.

Two weeks later, Ron and Hermione came to Godric's Hollow, as they always did every now and then. They hiked up a nearby hill, all preferring some fresh air rather then Apparition or broomsticks, and found a little clearing in the wood where they could settle down and have a picnic lunch. The sun was shining amiably over the trees and leaves, falling onto the four's skin, dancing on their faces as they talked and laughed.

"Hermione took me to this strange Muggle event the other night," Ron said enthusiastically, his body leaning back on his arms, which were propped against the blanket on the grass, "I told you, didn't I, Harry?"

Harry shook his head as he dug his teeth onto a fresh, bright red strawberry.

"No? When it was this back-in-time event, pretending to be in the 1960s and whatnot, where you blow your hair up and wore those ties and jackets," he turned to Hermione, who was sipping some juice by his side, "what are those posh Muggle attires called?"

"Suits," she laid down her cup, smiling as she recollected that night. "You didn't look too bad; at least better than that flaring dress robe you wore to the Yule Ball."

Ginny and Harry both laughed at the mention of the memory while Ron scowled. He didn't like the robe then and still despised it now, especially considering that the Ball didn't happen as he wanted it to be.

"I didn't think you'd notice me that night, considering you were dancing with Viktor Krum the whole night." Ron meant to make it sound light and jokingly, and yet the remark took Hermione aback as she straightened her back a little indignantly. Harry and Ginny exchanged knowing glances as both guessed that one of Ron and Hermione's habitual bickers was about to start.

"What are you saying, Ron? You speak of Viktor like he's indecent."

"I didn't say that," Ron took a swig of his drink.

"Are you jealous of him still?"

"Why should I be jealous?"

"He was my date."

"I could've been your date."

"You could've," Hermione nodded.

"Would you have agreed?" Ron looked at her questioningly.

"I can't be sure - you never asked. You didn't think I was worth a try."

Ron looked outraged for a second, but she wasn't completely wrong. Harry and Ginny suppressed laughs as they observed Ron's freckled face. Sometimes, they forgot that these two got married last summer, sooner than anyone had expected.

The afternoon drew on, and as the sun slipped westward, the four packed up and strolled back to Harry and Ginny's home in Godric's Hollow. Ron and Hermione settled in the guest room of the house - they always stayed a night whenever they visited.

Harry came up to Ginny behind her back as she unpackaged things in the picnic basket in the kitchen, and enclosed his arms around her thin, firm waist. He sniffed her hair where the smell of grass still lingered, and then gently pulling them those bright strands out of the way, he landed kisses on the crook between her neck and shoulder. Her sunkissed glow had been enticing him all afternoon, and now that they were alone, he could not resist it. His hands were slowly making their way up into her thin shirt, sliding up her smooth skin as he felt her arms slackened.

"Let's go upstairs," he could hear the smile on her lips as she whispered to him.

They hastily locked the door to their room before Harry pressed Ginny onto the door, his lips hot against hers, his hand on her breast. Ginny pulled his shirt off between kisses and beaming gazes, and her hands ran over his body, stopping at his lower abdomen. He flung his glasses off before undressing her, kissing her neck, her sculpted collar bone, all over her skin. He loved every inch of her, and every little thing that belonged to her, from her air to her soft gasps as he made his way down her body.

They soon found themselves in bed, intertwined, warm against eachother.

"Gin?" Harry said as she drew circles on his tummy.

"Yes, Firewhiskey?"

Harry grinned. "I love you."

"Because I just called you Firewhiskey and you cannot get enough of that fiery drink?"

"Partly," he laughed.

"And what's the other part?"

"You're a Quidditch champion and a sports star?"

"Ooh, and I've had people accusing me of being fame-hungry for loving Harry Potter."

"Loving Harry Potter?"

She kissed his chest before looking into his eyes, her hair, almost wild carmine in the dim light, hanging like curtains on either side of her face, and saying, firmly and assuringly: "Yes, I love you."

Ginny had a Quidditch season to attend to with the Holyhead Harpies a couple of weeks after that - it was the annual European Tournament, this year held in Belgium. They had to be separated for weeks, and that often didn't fare well with either of them. Last year, as Harry went to visit her in Spain mid-season, something overtook him and they fought. He wasn't quite sure how it started, but he realised that it went a bit too far when he suddenly mentioned Dean Thomas. He recalled how she had kissed Dean in her fifth year at Hogwarts. Ginny was furious.

"What the fuck, Harry?" She shouted in their tent, her face as red as her flaming locks. "What has Dean Thomas got to do with any of this? You are so infuriating! You were infatuated with Cho Chang in school, I didn't have problem with that back when it happened, and even more so now. How many bloody years has passed? Why the fuck are you holding a grudge against me?"

He was frustrated - every fibre of his being shook with wrath and also anguish - he knew she was right to think him unreasonable. He stayed on the sofa of the tent that night, not sleeping but not knowing what to do either. As dawn broke, he quietly slipped through the curtain that had separated them all night and found her on her bed, her back facing him, her breathing calm and even, but he could guess that she didn't sleep much either. He noiselessly laid down by her side, and wanted to spoon her, but instead positioned himself lower down on the mattress so that he could place his forehead against her shoulder blade.

"I'm sorry, Gin," he said.

They always make up eventually.

This summer, he was determined to not let that happen. He planned a visit right on her final match, to see the Harpies victorious, and they would spend a couple of days after that in Belgium.

One night, they leisurely walked hand-in-hand down a street lined with small brick houses that seemed to have an excessive amount of windows, as commented on by Ginny.

"Why do you think they have so many windows?" she asked, wondrously examining the white panes.

"I suppose to let light in; I always like natural lighting better: it's why Hogwarts' Great Hall's impressed me so much."

"I think it's because they want to watch and secretly judge people like us: tourists, and queer witches and wizards." Ginny was wearing a cloak - she liked billowing cloaks even if they made her stand out in a Muggle street. "I know the Belgian witches are fascinated by our dressing style. The Muggles might even be more curious."

They chat all the way along the street, and turning at the street corner, the west fell behind them. With the smiling afternoon sun lovingly shining on their backs, and their silhouettes stretched long on the path before their feet, Harry squeezed Ginny's hand and unwaveringly looked at her. Ginny stopped and smiled questioningly at him.

"What are you thinking?" she asked, her perfect white teeth showing and hiding behind her lips with every word.

"That you are such an astonishing person," he smiled and kept on walking so that she followed, too. She was never predictable, and always tenaciously passionate. Her bold and attractive shape held his gaze but her singular personality held his heart.

They walked on for a while before Ginny spoke, her lips curled, "Harry."

"Yeah?" He watched her eyes as they glimmered amber in the twilight.

"We should get married."

She matter-of-factly said it, and all that was in him crumbled. He was so enchanted, so inflamed by Ginny Weasley, and he pulled her into his arms, engulfed her in his embrace as he firmly said yes to her suggestion. He could not imagine any other response to that assured statement of hers.

A/N: I am not at all consistent (again sorry, and that's a warning, so don't expect consistency) - it has been so long since I posted - but I was suddenly so inspired to do another Hinny one-shot. Thank you, reader, for going through this little fic, and all reviews will be greatly appreciated.

Tea Xx