A/N: Prompt from tumblr. It's a shorty, but I like it & hope you do too! Also, I'm trying for another fic that will involve cheesy pick up lines, so if you have any suggestions, please leave them in the comments or send a PM and maybe I'll fit them in! Anyway, here's some Halloween Hinny fluff!
Harry Potter was a very mature wizard, an auror in fact, who had been married for over a year. He was very mature and found enjoyment in things adults did. Not those adult things…well yes those, Harry Potter liked having 'adult time' with his wife very much, and the feeling was quite mutual. But, back to the point, Harry Potter was very mature and most definitely was not hiding in the cramped and slightly musty coat closet of his and his wife's shared flat on Halloween waiting to scare her as soon as she flooed home from practice.
No, Harry Potter was much too mature for that, and had not been lying in wait for almost three quarters of an hour waiting for said wife, because that would be a very immature waste of time. However, if he was immature and hiding, he would currently be muttering curses and trying to wriggle his toes in an attempt to regain feeling beyond the uncomfortable tingles that told him the entire lower half of his body was asleep.
A whoosh of sound traveling from the inner rooms of the flat drew the young husband's attention from his prickly toes, his measured breaths and excited heartbeat loud in the silence. Harry listened, ear pressed against the door, as Ginny let out a tired sigh. Her light shuffle-steps moved from their cozy sitting room currently bedecked with cobwebs and pumpkins they'd messily carved over the weekend, toward the front entrance, the sound of her coat dropping on the bench, as it always did, despite the half dozen hooks that were meticulously hung next to the cherry wood front door.
Harry's hand slid onto the brass door handle, chilly from the autumn cold, waiting for the perfect opportunity. She has to be relaxed…and positioned in the exact right place…Two thumps in quick succession told him she had kicked off her battered trainers that she refused to throw away, not from a desire to economize, but because they were 'perfectly broken in;' a choice that frustrated Molly Weasley to no end and had once been the subject of a recent Rita Skeeter exposé accusing Harry of miserly tendencies toward his young bride.
Quiet metallic clicks told Harry's ears that Ginny had now dropped her green and gold Harpy duffle to the hardwood in an unceremonious heap; smelly, sweat-damp clothes and underthings to be fished out and washed later, likely by the ever dutiful Harry. Early on in their marriage, they had intended to split such chores, taking turns doing the weekly washings, but a few months of putting this plan into practice left Harry with one too many pink undershirts and the realization that his devious wife just happened to only find dirty clothes when it was his turn.
The sound of a zipper refocused Harry's attention; in his mind's eye, he could see the individual teeth unlocking from each other, slowly but steadily revealing the plains and slopes of Ginny's toned torso, snugly encased in a standard Harpies practice kit, long sleeved for the cooler months. As this final outer garment fell to the ground with a whisper of a noise, Harry leaned closer, biting his lip as he listened closely, mapping her progress through the hall and towards his hidden location in his minds eye.
Face scrunching in confusion, Harry pressed himself closer to the door, cupping one hand over his ear in the hope of determining the lovely read head's current location, should've stolen some extendable ears from George…
Just as he was contemplating cracking the door open slightly to peer around, said door swung open rapidly, his screech of surprise mixing with the triumphant battle cry of one Ginevra Potter, who caught him with deft arms as the door slammed into the springy doorstop and bounced back with enough force to tap Ginny's shoulder.
Under normal circumstances, falling face first into the bosom of his lovely bride would've been cause for happiness on both of their parts, but Harry's scowl broke tradition as he spoke, voice muffled by the moisture wicking fabric of her top, "How?"