A/N: prompt was adorable and blvnk-art on tumblr has me totally hooked on long haired!Auror!Harry. Go check it out if you haven't seen it.
When Harry got called away mere hours before their long overdue weekend family holiday, he was more than a bit angry. When he arrives at the Ministry to discover the 'emergency' mainly involved a bunch of trainees bungling up a fairly routine run, he's trying to recall exactly why using said trainees for target practice is not acceptable.
Still, even with the relatively low level problem, it's widespread and has enough potential to create a hubbub with the press that Harry isn't locking the door to his office until nearly midnight. His only comfort is the short missive he'd found waiting on his desk in round, looping script. Meet us at the cottage - G
He lands just outside the boundary line of the small place they'd rented, sand soft beneath his boots and tide rising steadily at his back. Squinting against the darkness, he can see most of the cottage is unlit, and he would think his family all already asleep save the small front room which glows with a warmth likely the result of the fireplace that has a steady plume of smoke rising from the chimney. Gin.
Mindful of the children he hopes are well off to dream land, Harry opens and closes the door slowly, the final click shutting out the stress on his shoulders along with the crashing waves.
Before he lifts his forehead from the rough hewn wood of the door, slim arms wrap around his middle, and Harry could melt right there. His voice is low, rough with overuse, when he murmurs, "Mrs. Potter."
"Harry," Ginny answers back, tone matching his as her fingers work the buckles of his cloak free.
He winces as the heavy leather slips past his fingertips and Ginny presumably hangs it on the nearby coat-rack. Tugging his own boots off, Harry places them beneath his cloak and rises, cupping Ginny's jaw. "'m sorry I missed today."
Ginny grips his hand and presses a kiss to the base of his thumb. "Couldn't be helped."
Harry sighs, "The kids?"
She laughs softly and tugs him toward the cozy sitting room, settling into the corner and puling him to sit between her legs. "Disappointed. But they perked up when I whipped out the Quidditch gear."
"Suckers," Harry snort turning into a moan when Ginny's fingers begin pressing into his tensed neck.
He has to bite down on his lip to keep the groan in when she drags his hair free of the tie and Harry once again marvels at the reality that hair can hurt.
After she works the largest tangles free with her fingers, Ginny grabs her wand from the end table and flicks it silently, free hand leaving his shoulder and waiting expectantly.
As she loops one foot around his hip, a brush falls into her hand with a thud, Slowly, she begins working the bristles through his knotted locks, and Harry wonders when exactly he got so lucky. Harry moans, and if he wasn't in an absolutely blissful state, he might be embarrassed. "You're a goddess."
Ginny presses a kiss to his temple. "I know."