Voldemort may kiss my ass.
Harry Potter was extremely pissed off when he was leaving the Ministry of Magic that day. Furiously he ran one of his hands through his messy black hair and forcefully loosened his red tie with the other. A lot of time had passed since he had an awful day like this. For over a month a group of Aurors was preparing a trap for three elusive Death Eaters, and today when finally all of that was heading to an end, they all escaped because of one bloody idiot. Before he decided to aparate home, he took a few deep breaths to calm himself down. He couldn't let himself split no matter how mad he was. Ha landed safely in Godric's Hollow and started to think why the hell Robards didn't sack Terrens yet. It was the second mission that this git screwed up already, and to be honest, nobody even liked him! Harry sighed loudly. There were moments in his life when he was wondering why he's still fighting and doing everything to send all of those old Voldemort's followers to the Azkaban. He should have given it up.
Angrily he rid the coat of himself and left it on the floor in the hall, then removed this annoying tie and throw it on the chair standing near the entrance to the living room. And just then it hit him. To the sight in front of him, his face softened immediately and a small smile appeared on it. He felt ashamed of himself. How could he, even just for a moment, think that he has nothing to fight for? How could he think, that he should of gave it up? How could he think that those things, that he'd been doing for a few years now, are pointless and simply stupid? How could he think things like that, when the main reason of all of this fighting was now sleeping soundly, curled up on the sofa? He took a few steps forward and looked at his wife's beautiful, childish face. He smiled to himself thinking about her. Despite the fact that Ginny was 20 she still looked like when she was less than 17. She didn't change at all. Or maybe she changed? Maybe she was even more beautiful than those few years ago? The fact was that, no matter how cheesy that sounds, every day she seemed to be more gorgeous in his eyes. But she still had this same mild face, this same little, stubbornly pug nose with those same lovely freckles covering it, those same bright brown eyes, now covered by her creamy eyelids, and finally this same flowery scented, red hair surrounding her head like a burning halo. She was so adorable. His wife. Maybe he was Harry bloody Potter, but he still was wondering how it happened that she chose him of all the people. Softly he brushed a strand of hair from her peaceful face. Very gently, afraid that he may startle her, he placed his right hand between her shoulder blades, left under her knees, and slowly to not wake her, he lifted her up. During the process, the blue blanket in which she was wrapped, collapsed on the sofa reliving her small body dressed in his bottle-green t-shirt with "Voldemort may kiss my ass." written on it with white letters. He couldn't help that gleeful chuckle which escaped his mouth. That statement was not only very truthful but also it perfectly fit his current thoughts. Ginny's eyes opened slowly, and a small smile appeared on her face when she saw her chuckling husband in front of her.
"Sorry sweetie, I didn't want to wake you up." He said silently and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead.
"Mmmm… I only hope that something really funny made you decide to so rudely interrupt my awesome nap." She replied smiling widely. He chuckled again.
"Remember when I've got that t-shirt?" He asked and she noticed that he looks far too gorgeous for his own good with this goofy grin on his mouth.
"Of course I do. George gave it to you for Christmas, let me think, three years ago? I remember that you've announced it the best Christmas gift ever." She replied happily "I mean officially." She added wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. He laughed out loud this time. "Anyway. Why I'm not on the sofa anymore?" She asked. He shrugged.
"I thought that here, you're not comfy enough, so I've wanted to take you to the bed." He stated truthfully.
"Really, Potter?" She asked smiling mischievously. He raised his eyebrow.
"I wasn't thinking about that, but I'm perfectly fine with the idea." He replied. She laughed and kissed him firmly on the lips.
"Nah… sorry, dear but I'm exhausted." He pouted for a moment.
"Apology accepted, but please, for God sake, don't call me 'dear'."
"What? Why?" She asked puzzled.
"Don't you think that it's a little bit awkward, considering the fact that your mum had been calling me 'her dear' since I was 12 or something?" She thought that, that was indeed, very strange.
"Right… awkward." She added, and realized that she's still in his arms. He nodded.
"Okay, put me down." She demanded "I'm going to the bed"
"Why? I said that I can carry you." He said and started to walk toward their bedroom.
"But I can also go by myself."
"I know that."
"Harry!"
"Ginny!"
"Okay, If you insist."
"I insist."
"Good." And with that statement she relaxed in his arms putting her head on his collarbone. He wasn't even in the middle of the stairs when he realized that she fell asleep again. He smiled to himself. He definitely had something worth fighting for. He had family, not only his beautiful wife, but also her family which had been his own since he was 12. He was happy, all was well, and his last thought that night before he fell asleep was "Voldemort may kiss my ass.".
The End