All characters and everything you might recognize belongs to J. K. Rowling.
"What a week!" Harry thought as he took the steps leading to the front door of his small flat in the centre of London after a particularly nasty week at work.
Finally, two years after Voldemort's defeat, they had managed to hunt down the Death Eater Yaxley. His trial had kept Harry at the Ministry for much longer this evening than he had hoped for.
"Maybe that's the reason why Friday isn't called 'Freeday'. This way nobody can excuse ones hopes to have a free evening on a Friday because of its name," he muttered darkly under his breath while struggling with the charms locking the door. He found it exceedingly hard to concentrate in his state of fatigue.
As soon as the door swung open he stopped dead on the threshold. Everywhere in his flat the candles were lit (it somehow gave him the feeling to be home, the light from the candles instead of Muggle light bulbs). He was nothing if not sure that he'd put them out when he'd left on Wednesday morning.
A door creaked.
Harry didn't make a sound and his wand was still at the ready. He made his way down the short hallway with cautious steps, every muscle in his body tense. Warily he opened the kitchen door. Only a few candles were lit here and somebody had definitely cleaned up the mess he'd left over from Tuesday's hasty dinner and Wednesday's breakfast.
He hadn't planned on sleeping in his office two nights in a row, but there had been far too much to do to leave his desk. Maybe Molly had come over to look after his flat, but she knew not to freak him out like this. The Weasleys knew that he had kept some paranoid habits from the war, had not been able to lay them off completely. He could understand Mad-eye Moody much better now.
He had reached the door leading into his living room. When did he last open this door? He didn't know. There simply had been no need to, as a living room was there for relaxation, not for working, eating, sleeping. The door handle creaked. The same noise he had heard upon entering his flat. Somebody had to be in here.
"Harry? Wand down! It's me!" a voice came from within as soon as he had pushed the handle all the way down.
He knew that voice. "Ginny?"
"Of course it's me! Who else would dare play hide and seek with you in your own flat without you knowing about it. Admit it, they'd all be far too afraid of being hexed by accident by the famous Harry Potter! Now get in here, Harry!"
The door handle was ripped out of his grasp as Ginny pulled the door open from within with a bit more force than necessary and flung her arms around him.
Harry released the breath he'd been holding and pulled Ginny close. He inhaled her flowery scent, which calmed him immediately and made him wonder what had him so worked up a moment ago.
"I'm glad you're here," he mumbled in her hair and felt her smile against his collarbone.
"That's why I'm here: Look after you, take care that you actually sleep in your bed tonight and not on some couch in your office, force you to have a good night's sleep, make you a proper breakfast and a proper dinner, if you're hungry now. Mummy thought of everything."
She smiled softly at him and all he could do was bury his face in her shoulder while she threaded a hand through his unruly black hair, massaging his sculp.
"I don't know what I'd do without you. I love you, you know that?" he whispered close to her ear.
"I know that. But you want to hear something as well? I love you, too," she breathed warmly as she began to walk backwards, supporting part of his weight as she made for the couch.
She made him sit down and arranged his body in a comfortable position, as he himself was too tired to move any number of limbs. The adrenaline kick he had received upon entering his flat had drained him of all energy he might have had left. She took his wand out of his hand and tossed it away. Then she got up and rid him of his shoes. Only when she unclasped his cloak and freed his arms from its sleeves and didn't stop at his simple button down he was wearing did Harry start wondering what she was doing.
He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Ginny? What are you ... I mean I doubt I can ... just tonight ... er maybe ... what ..."
He just couldn't express his thoughts in a coherent sentence with his brain on energy-saving-modus but thinking about Ginny's hands that brushed over his exposed chest as soon as she had managed to open all the buttons of his shirt – or what she could be up to after that.
With a cattish grin she stopped his babbling and told him, "I know you're tired. I don't expect anything from you tonight other than close your eyes and dose off any moment. Just stop assuming everybody wants you to do something. Maybe I want to give something to you for a change. Honestly, Harry, you're far too kind for your own good," she scolded him good naturedly.
"So, are you hungry?"
He shook his head a little. Sleep had a higher priority right now.
So she guided him in his bedroom, helped him discard his trousers and on his bed. It was a sign for how tired he was that his body hardly responded to the promising situation he was in in his current state of undress with Ginny right behind him. He fell asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow.
He woke the next morning to gentle stoking along his arm. Sunlight was flooding the bedroom with soft light and warmth. It was just a perfect morning and it got even more perfect as he turned his head to let his eyes trace up the length of the arm attached to the hand that was stroking him and found Ginny there smiling contently at him. The night in his own bed had worked wonders on his body and he felt refreshed and relaxed like he hadn't known for quite some time now.
"Hi," Ginny whispered and stopped in her ministrations for a moment.
"Hi," he whispered back and smiled too.