A/N: Hi, all! konARTISTE here, with a H/G one-shot. It's my first for this ship. It is nothing big or dramatic, just some fluff of how I imagine them post-war.

This one-shot could become multi-chaptered if requested by reviewers.

I would like to ask anyone, if there is anyone, who will favourite this story or sign up for alert to: please review, too. Just a word or two would suffice. It's like telling someone 'You're my favourite neighbour!' or 'You're my favourite friend!' only to never keep in touch with them.

Anyhoot, no pressure. I won't judge you if you don't review – at all.

I wish you a pleasant read~!

Bare Feet and Bad Eyesight

'Ginny.'

A clear blue sky stretched out above them, without any indication of ending.

'Ginny.'

They were lazing there, only an inch between the tops of their heads.

'Hm?'

The smell of grass and mud wafted along the occasional breeze.

'Nothing, I just like saying your name.'

A playful smile was barely visible through red tussled locks of hair, but the slight sound of her breath catching in and escaping from her throat did not go undetected.

'So I have noticed.'

The sun tickled the freckled skin of her stomach until she rolled to expose her back instead.

'Ginny.'

A cloud slowly but bravely moved in front of the sun, bathing them in a pleasant shadow.

'Ginny.'

He tilted his head upwards and had it bump softly against her chin.

'Gin.'

Her weight was balanced on one propped up elbow as she used her other arm to snatch his pair of glasses like it was a Snitch. Finally, their eyes met directly. Then, a tender kiss was brushed against his forehead, causing him to close his eyes in a moment of bliss.

'I didn't realise you were calling for me.'

With some difficulty, he raised his head and kissed the tip of her nose. 'Guess what I am thinking.'

Scarlet tresses finally abandoned their struggle to stay atop of her head and fell around his face.

'You're thinking about Quidditch.'

'No.'

'You're thinking about food.'

'I'm not Ron, Ginny.'

'You're thinking about sex.'

He chuckled. 'No! Yes, well... Now that you mention it! Blimey, are you stereotyping me as an average male? That I only have sports, food and sex on my mind?'

'You are an average male, Harry,' she replied, moving away from him to sit upright, 'unless you reckon you're something special?'

Another bark of laughter was emitted by the young man and he too assumed her position. 'No, you are right. I'm just Harry.'

They held each other's gaze for a silent moment, taking in the appearance of the person in front of them. Without averting her eyes until the second it was physically impossible, she then climbed onto his lap, pressing her back to his chest.

As she motioned for him to wrap his arms around her, she asked: 'what are you thinking about, Harry?'

'I want to take you out on a date.'

The young woman smiled and turned to look at him. 'A date?'

A sudden look of apprehension passed his face. 'Unless, unless you don't w-want to, I mean- '

'It's a wonderful thought, Harry, and I take you upon that offer. But...'

'But?'

'All those journalists will catch wind of it in no time and we'll be forced to pose for the camera's in the whole date!'

He mulled about it.

'Then we'll have to go somewhere no Daily Prophet journalist goes. In fact, there won't be a lot of wizards there either.'

'Where is that? Filch's office? Percy's desk filled with reports on cauldrons? Or Umbridge's bedroom?'

'No, don't be so dramatic. '

'Oh.'

'If you want, we could go somewhere in the Muggle realm.'

'Like Muggle London or something.' It was a statement, not a question.

'You don't want to?'

'No, I'd like to go there. As long as we're going to do some shopping.'

'If that is what you want to do, then that is what we will do.'

She let out a soft cheer and entangled her fingers with his. 'I have been dying to do some shopping outside of Diagon Alley.'

'I'll buy you anything you want.'

'Thank you, my lovesick puppy, but you don't have to.'

'I know, but I will.'

'I have money, you know.'

'Yes, but so do I and I want to spend it on you.'

'Well, what if I don't want you to.'

'What if it would make me happy if you allowed me to spend it on you?'

'What-'

'Do you want to make me sad?' He pouted exaggeratedly.

She turned 60 degrees just to show him that she rolled with her eyes. 'Shut up, Potter.'

He poked her in her side. 'I will, on the condition that you allow me to blow half my fortune on you-'

'Only half?'

'Or more, of course. Whatever you desire.'

'Well, all right. If it means so much to you,' she replied and nudged him back, 'then I, Ginevra Weasley, hereby allow you, Harry James Potter, to go bonkers and buy me everything I like.'

There were several clauses to this statement and after she was done listing them, Harry dryly asked her if she wanted Hermione or Percy to write out the whole agreement to make it official. As a response, she laid down adjacent to him and placed her feet in his lap.

'Don't worry about that, love,' was her smug reassurance and – as if it were a common thing to say to The Boy Who Lived And Defeated - said, 'rub my feet.'

A demand to which he complied instantly with a happy smile dancing on his face. Because this young woman loved him for who he was. For to her, he was a bloke called Harry with eyes the colour of pickled toad. And if this Harry's girlfriend wanted her feet massaged, he would.

'Ginny.'

No response.

'Gin, please, could you give me back my glasses?'

The End (?)

A/N: Did you enjoy it? Let me know! I do hope you enjoyed it.

Should I crank up the fluff-factor? Cliché? Want me to write about their date in Muggle London? Do you have any suggestions about the date? Let me know! I love constructive feedback and also, if this story will continue: I don't live in London, so I don't know much Ginny worthy dating sites. If you have any idea, let me know! OK? Yay! Have a nice day!