I wrote this while I had insomnia last night. My awesome beta, waiting4morning, described it as "domestic." I'm not sure if that's a positive or not.
I do not own Harry or Ginny - they're Ms. Rowling's brilliance. The argument about yogurt is all mine.
Ginny rolled over in bed but didn't meet the familiar bulk of her husband, simply a dent in the old mattress where Harry belonged. Her eyes shot open, and she saw the bleary grey outline of a beat up bureau, the second drawer vomiting a half-folded white undershirt. She lifted her head enough to read the alarm clock on top of the dresser. The glowing purple numbers were partially obscured by a deodorant stick and a plush dinosaur, but Ginny thought it looked like 4:21 AM. She repositioned her head; yep, 4:21.
She hefted herself into a sitting position and paused to listen. Al wasn't crying for once, Harry didn't seem to have the radio on, and Ginny couldn't even hear the sounds of Kreacher's knobby little feet padding around the kitchen to get Harry a snack. Ginny almost felt she could hear the house breathing - or maybe that was the trees outside.
On her way out the bedroom door, Ginny kicked a few errant laundry articles back toward the burgeoning hamper and grudgingly added that to her to-do list for tomorrow… today. Maybe her mom would be willing to take the boys for the afternoon so she could get some errands done without James' antics or Al's moods. Ginny tripped on a toy broomstick in the hallway but caught herself on the closet doorknob. She fumbled for the banister before feeling her way downstairs.
A vague glow was coming from the living room. Ginny entered with a bleary grimace at the soft lamplight on Harry's desk in the corner. She inched forward half-blinded, rubbing her face with an uncontrollable scowl. Harry was sitting in a pool of light and stacked paper. He looked like he had been staring at the same report binder for half the night. His hair was flattened on one side and he had chewed the feathered end of his quill bald. Deep purple circles sagged under his puffy eyes.
"Hi handsome. Working hard?"
He looked up and blinked a couple times. "Not really – pretending to. Couldn't sleep so I figured I would stop trying." He adjusted his glasses and squinted back down at the report.
"You fell asleep before I did."
"Yeah, I was faking. Or maybe I did fall asleep but then woke up again." Harry gave a tight smile and scratched at the back of his head.
"You were asleep, I know the difference. You start twitching when you fall asleep." Ginny rubbed her eye absently.
"You would know best, I suppose."
"Did you have another nightmare?"
Harry gave a weary glance up from his work. "Yeah."
There was a beat of silence and Ginny took a couple steps forward. "Whatcha working on?"
"Oh, just the report for those muggle-baiting arrests yesterday."
"Muggle-baiting? Isn't that usually handled by regular Magical Law Enforcement?"
"Eh, usually, but this was following up on a string of attacks so it got bounced to us…" Harry shrugged. "Nevermind, it's not important."
"It is important if it has you up at four in the morning, love." Ginny took another step toward Harry and fidgeted with a stack of papers on the corner of his desk.
"Well, you know what I mean, nothing you need to hear about." Harry popped a pretzel in his mouth from a nearby tray of food. Apparently Kreacher had been on snack duty earlier in the evening – the morning, that is.
"Hey, is that my yogurt?" Ginny pointed at the empty container an edge of annoyance creeping into her voice.
Harry looked befuddled by the sudden subject change. "Hm? What was that?"
"You're eating my yogurt again!"
"Well, it's the only yogurt in the house, and I wanted yogurt." Harry's forehead creased a little in irritation.
"Harry, I buy you your own yogurt for a reason! My yogurt is for digestive health – your digestive heath doesn't need any help. Stop eating my yogurt!" Ginny crossed her arms. It didn't matter how many times she reminded him about that, Harry never seemed to pay attention to what he was shoveling in his mouth.
"Well, we're out of my yogurt, okay?" Harry scowled. "Besides, you do realize you're sniping at me about a cup of yogurt don't you?"
"But it's special yogurt!"
"It's one cup of special yogurt. I don't think you will die without it. Nor will I die from eating it." A small quirk of amusement played at the corner of Harry's mouth. "You're talking like an insane person – you know that right?"
"Don't you dare laugh at me, Harry Potter! You know I hate that!"
"I can't help it! You're starting a fight about yogurt. I mean, maybe if it was something sensible like work or the children or the last cinnamon bun, I would let it slide, but honestly Gin, yogurt?" He wasn't even trying to hide the smile now.
"Oh shut up, it's four in the morning." Ginny rolled her eyes by way of surrendering the argument as pointless.
"No really, the last cinnamon bun is a reasonable complaint."
"Sod off, I'm tired." Ginny was in no mood to be teased.
"Or the last piece of cheesecake – that's a call to arms."
"I'm serious, Harry."
"Or maybe a nice pum—"
"I'm pregnant."
Ginny nibbled her bottom lip and studied her husband's face at the pronouncement. He let his hand with the quill fall into his lap; a spot of ink began to bleed onto his pajama pants. He blinked a few times and glanced over at the food tray as if it maybe would translate what Ginny had just said, then he looked back at her.
"You're serious?"
"Very." Ginny picked absently at a hangnail on her thumb. "I'm sorry about the yogurt, I'm just… I'm pregnant."
Harry threw the quill on the desk and fairly bounced out of his chair to grab for both of Ginny's arms. "You're serious? You're pregnant? Are you sure?"
"Fairly sure, yes."
"Are you okay?" His face was so earnest and overwhelmed, so delighted and terrified that Ginny had to grin.
"Well, I'm still a bit miffed about the yogurt, but I feel fine. It's not like this is my first time."
Harry's mouth opened and closed wordlessly for a moment before he blurted out, "That's fantastic!" and gripped Ginny in a fierce hug. She couldn't help but laugh a little – he squeezed it out of her.
"How long have you known?" Harry pulled back and gave her a perplexed frown.
"I've suspected for about a week. Found out for sure today – well, yesterday." Ginny leaned against the desk and stole a pretzel from the tray; her stomach was growling.
Harry collapsed backward into his chair and let out a low stream of awe stricken expletives. "I'm sorry. You'd think I'd get used to hearing news like that, but…"
"Well, it is four in the morning, and we were in the middle of a conversation about yogurt. I can see how it would be unexpected."
"Will you drop the yogurt already?" Harry waved Ginny's quip away with his hand. He shook his head slowly as if he were hoping things would fall in place in his brain. Ginny's eye was caught by the white curtain billowing softly behind Harry's head – he had the window open. Ginny could smell lawn clippings and hear crickets through the gauzy whiteness.
"Damn, I love you, Gin." Shaken out of her reverie, Ginny looked at her husband. He was watching her. His face seemed frankly amazed.
"I love you too." She broke into a smile and fidgeted with her tangled mass of hair.
They paused for a few more moments in silence. Ginny heard the village clock tower toll the half hour through the open window behind the desk. "You ready to come to bed?" Ginny asked, nabbing another pretzel.
"I – sure I guess so." Harry glanced down at the report that had fallen on the floor when he had jumped to his feet. "I've totally lost my concentration anyway." He got up and stretched, replaced the report on the desk and turned off the lamp.
Plunged once again into darkness, Ginny heard Harry bang his toe on the corner of the desk as he rounded it and swear again, softly. He muttered something about leaving his wand on his nightstand. Ginny reached out and groped around for Harry's hand. When she found it he pulled her in and tucked an arm around her waist. Together they navigated their way out of the living room and up the stairs.
In bed, Ginny lay on her side facing her husband. Her eyes had adjusted enough to see his familiar profile against the backdrop of the ratty set of drawers. His eyes were drooping but not quite closed.
"Do you think it will be a girl this time?" Harry's quiet question jostled Ginny out of the first tendrils of sleep.
"Maybe." Ginny could hear how sluggish her voice sounded.
"Hm…" Harry's voice seemed as if it was coming through pancake syrup. "Sweet dreams, Gin."
"You too, Harry," she murmured as she felt his right arm twitch slightly against her own.