Hello World, this is my first story ever written to FF so please be constructive, but yes critical when you review. I look forward to your feedback! This is a femmeslash written about well, you can probably tell. There will be fluff, drama and plenty of smut when the time comes so be ready!

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, that would be J.K Rowling's bag. And even if I owned him, God knows I would not be writing about him, I would be riding him.

Ginny's POV

I awaken the biggest day of my life ready to take over the world. I get up, kiss my loving husband on the cheek, and leap from the bed with unusual fervor. Dressing today should not be an ordeal, yet I was standing half-naked in the closet for at least 10 minutes longer than usual, stressing every detail of my outfit.

Suddenly I realize I have spent so much time on my appearance that I don't notice the intoxicating smell of maple sausage coming from what I assume is my kitchen. I dress quickly thinking that the only reason for this would have to be that my mother floo'd herself in and began making me breakfast knowing that I would be too jittery today to make it for myself and Draco.

As soon as I make it to the kitchen with everything on me zipped and buttoned, I am beyond shocked to see not my mother but my husband Drake cooking breakfast! Drake is never one for domestic activity, but he seemed perfectly happy scrambling some eggs and sausages in the big cast iron skillet for us!

Upon seeing me come closer to him he gives me a husband-like grin of sexual complicity, "Hey, what happened to what you were wearing in the closet? It looked more like a tan nighty than jeans and a sweater!" I blushed at him, appreciating the grin and all that I know is hidden beneath it. After being married for nearly two years, Drake is very much stuck in the honeymoon stage of our bedroom. Every evening no matter how horrendous our respective days at work were, we played like feverish teenagers underneath our Egyptian cotton bedsheets.

I thank Merlin everyday for blessing me with this dedicated, hard-working man of mine. He understands me and appreciates all that I am. And whenever he can, he comes to support me and my fellow Harpies down at the Quidditch pitch. That's far more than I could have asked for in a life-partner.

Today is the day that our lives could change though. Today will decide if I will be successful on my own regardless of my husband's Auror status within the Ministry of Magic. Today the Harpies will play for the League Cup against the Montrose Magpies. Whoever wins could go on to the World Cup next year, it was the highest honor our Quidditch club could even imagine. I'm so nervous that even though I am ravenous with hunger, I barely eat anything, just enough to show Drake that I love him cooking for me. More than anything I just want to meet with everyone at the Burrow before the match. I want to go to the pitch and put my uniform on, knowing that today will be the day of all days to don my red and white.

Drake is working on a report due to his superiors on the capture of a gang of rebellious Warlocks living in the mountains of Albania. He desperately wants to see me in action but work is important to him. He takes his job very seriously, which I'm glad for, he is making a safer world for us and our future children. I'm not pregnant but I often wish I was, I wish to hear the pitter-patter of tiny feet moving across the living room floor headed towards me, Momma. But even though me and Drake go at it like animals every night, I am yet to see a pink plus sign on those little pregnancy test stick things Hermione keeps bringing me. One day I know it will happen, and I am okay with waiting patiently for that to happen.

When 12-noon finally rolls around, Drake is done with his report and I am bouncing maniacally around the house in a flutter, trying to convey the urgency I feel to leave even though the match doesn't begin until 5:00. I grab his hand and drag him to the fireplace to floo ourselves to the Burrow, where everyone is, I'm sure, waiting and as excited as I am.

As soon as we come out of my parents' fireplace, I am surrounded by a sea of red and white faces painted, pennants, hats and t-shirts. George and Angelina, his wife now, have bewitched a small action figure made to look like me and spontaneously wave to the makers from her broomstick.

My mother comes tearing through the crowd of her children and their significant others to pull me into a fierce hug with Drake and tell me, "I can't believe today my darling baby girl Ginevra is going to play for the League Cup! Me and your father are just so proud of you, you have no idea what this means to us!" I'm blushing and trying not to let the water in my eyes become noticed when Drake pulls me into him and whispers "I love you" into my ear in a way that I can only describe as humorous, knowing that I need a laugh to hide the tears my mother can force with only a few words as always.

Once everyone has hugged me and Drake, and said their encouraging words of the day, we all head outside to the field where Dad has arranged a portkey in the form of a large park bench that has boards missing, its just big enough for everyone to touch until suddenly we arrive, at the pitch, and my destiny.