Just a short drabble. Obviously I don't own anything. Enjoy!
It was eight o'clock in the morning in Godric's Hollow and Harry was in the kitchen making breakfast. It has been six months now that him and Ginny were living together and it was bliss. He rebuilt his parents' house and moved in soon after finishing his final year of Hogwarts. All of them – Ron, Hermione and – most importantly – Ginny have returned to the castle after the war and for once in his life he had a voldemort-free and utterly carefree year of school. Of course, it wasn't all that easy. There was the whole war ordeal to cope with as well as memories, mostly from the battle, haunting him all the time. It took a while to stop seeing people falling dead around every corner but he managed. They all did. It was march now, almost two years after the war and things were really good. He had an amazing godson, fantastic fiancée - yes, that's right, he proposed to Ginny last Christmas, the best present she ever got, or so she says – and his life was perfect.
Almost.
There was just one thing, one tiny thing that kept him from ticking off 'achieving utter happiness' on his to-do list. The bloody jar. Bloody bloody coffee jar. It was unscrewed. Again. For six months now he's been trying. Trying to make his bloo... no, his WONDERFULL fiancée... trying to make her screw that damn jar. What was wrong with her? Honestly, it couldn't be that hard to remember something as simple as 'screw the jar after you make coffee'. Or could it? He's been repeating it over and over and over again, every single morning since the very first morning they moved in here. And what?
Nothing.
It's not like she was doing it on purpose. Or at least she said she wasn't. She looked quite sincere while saying that and it's not like he had any reason not to believe it anyway. But the fact remained that the bloody jar was unscrewed yet again and it really didn't matter to him how sorry Ginny was going to be – again – and how much – again – she was going to promise she'll remember next time. Again. He had enough. Grinding his teeth he returned to making breakfast, all the good mood from just few minutes ago completely gone. He continued silently cursing his fiancée until he heard her coming down the stairs and soon enough she appeared in the kitchen entrance. He shot a glance her way and once again he had to keep himself from drifting away while staring at her. She looked plain angelic. With her long, red hair framing her pixy-like face, and all those freckles – 44 to be exact – covering her little upturned nose, and two dark chocolate brown eyes constantly twinkling with joy and mischief, and her full lips smiling sweetly at him. No, wait. Not sweetly. Mischievously. And one mischievously cocked eyebrow.
'Done staring?'
And that voice. It was playful now, but it could also be filled with love or ringing with laughter or raising dangerously when she was mad or...He loved her voice. He loved everything about her and now that he was looking at her he couldn't stop marvelling at how much he loved her. She was so amazing and right now she looked so cute leaning against the doorframe and asking him if he was done staring at her. She was so cute...
No, wait. She was not cute. She was bloody annoying. Annoying little pixy, making coffee and not screwing the jar. He was so going to tell her that.
'Quite' was his court response. He looked away and added one more pancake to the pile on the plate. She moved from her position in the doorframe and came behind him wrapping her arms around his waist and leaning her forehead against the back of his neck. She was just tall enough to reach his chin with the top of her head and sometimes when he was in the bathroom shaving she would come behind him the way she did now, stand on her toes and peek over his shoulder to watch him in the mirror. If you asked him, that was one of the absolutely cutest things ever. Yes, he could tell her what an annoying pixy she was later.
'Smells delicious' she murmured and he could feel her lips moving against his shirtless back.
'Mhmmm'. He didn't bother forming any more coherent response, too busy revelling in all the amazing feelings she was causing. He felt her shift and soon enough she was reaching on her toes and turning her head to press a kiss on his neck, just below his ear.
'Make me coffee?' she asked, her lips brushing his ear ever so slightly.
Poof. There it was, his amazing mood was gone again. 'The return of Annoying Pixy', sequel to 'Annoying Pixy leaves The Jar unscrewed' has just appeared on the screen. Audience groaned.
'Sure' he said, turned his head, kissed her lightly on the forehead, put the last pancake on the plate and moved to get two mugs. Then he reached for the jar with coffee, glanced at it, picked it up and with the most innocent look he could muster up turned back to Ginny.
'Oh and look, I don't even have to unscrew it, someone has already done it for me.' The remark was as innocent as ever. He saw her glance shift to the jar and then back to his face. Her own face didn't show any signs of guilt. She was good.
'Well, that's nice of them.'
His oh-so-innocent eyes narrowed. Her features shifted. Good.
'Alright, fine. I'm sorry.' He was so not pacified.
'Oh, you're sorry. Fantastic.' Ok, so maybe he wasn't exactly the nicest person ever.
'Look, it's not my fault I keep forgetting to screw that bloody jar.' Now she was getting annoyed too, she was so absolutely beautiful when she was angry.
'Whose then? Nargles' maybe?'
'No, they only live in mistletoes and we got rid of all of those we had in January, remember? So while the Nargles might have been responsible for some of the unscrewed jars before, during or shortly after Christmas they're no longer an option. We should look for another suspect' she got a thoughtful look on her face and started tapping her chin. Then she seemed to have gotten an idea. 'What about a stray Crumple-Horned Snorkack?'
His lips twitched. Damn, he really should learn to control his features better. Ginny responded with a sweet smile. She came to him, took the jar from his hand and after putting coffee in the mugs screwed it and put it back on its place. Then she smiled at him once again and kissed him.
'You're impossible' Harry murmured while tightening his grip around her waist. He both loved and hated it that she could always do that to him. 'But honestly, what's so difficult in screwing the jar?'
She shrugged. 'I keep forgetting.' He rolled his eyes. 'And anyway, what's so important about it? It's not like the world will end if I leave it unscrewed.'
'Coffee withers and then it's shitty' he stated as if it were obvious, but then again it was. How could she not know that? And as an afterthought he added:
'Can't you just remember not to forget to screw it?'
She looked at him as if he were an idiot.
'Yeah, sure. After all remembering not to forget is much easier than just not forgetting. You're a genius, thanks.'
He rolled his eyes again. Then he got an idea. It was as if a light bulb went off in his head.
'I'll be right back' he kissed his fiancée on the forehead and after untangling himself from her left the kitchen in a rush. She looked at the place where he disappeared gobsmacked. She stood there waiting for him for a while and then when she thought he was not coming back Harry returned, proud smile on his face and a piece of startlingly green paper in his hand. Her eyes hurt from looking at it. Proud smile still in place, he took the coffee jar, cast a sticking charm on the paper and pressed it to the lid. Once he was done he handed the jar to her. She took it from him still highly suspicious, glanced at the horrendous green paper and nearly laughed out loud. There, written in Harry's untidy scrawl was a big, red, eye-hurting 'SCREW IT!'. She grinned.
'But screw what?' she asked innocently, glancing his way. 'The jar? Or screwing the jar?'
He mock-glared at her, but a wide grin formed on his lips nonetheless. Smiling he took the jar – no longer bloody – from her hand and put it back on the kitchen counter where it could proudly present its newly acquired ornament. That done, he mentally ticked off the last position on his list.