Over the year and a half they've been married, Harry's come to realize a few things about his wife. She's tiny, but he definitely shouldn't mention it, she's probably allergic to the laundry basket if her complete avoidance is anything to go by, and she's at her most attractive when it's the least convenient moment to act on it.
Which means Harry's half out of his mind not even thirty minutes into the Auror Department picnic.
Somebody's grilling various meats and vegetables and Harry barely ate a slice of toast before his morning with Teddy. But his hunger pangs are nothing next to Ginny's sun warmed face as she gathers her little swarm of eager young fliers and leads them toward a bare stretch of grass where there are a few practice quaffles lying about.
And it gets about a thousand times worse when she tosses her hair up into a careless ponytail and settles her shades more firmly across the bridge of her nose, all business.
Luckily, perhaps, Harry's not given too much time to consider his wife and all of her lovely attributes because it seems everyone in the department is taking this whole 'bond with your coworkers' bit to heart.
He does get caught up in the fun and games, joining in on a few of the usual field day type activities - Rhonda from Muggle Relations has damn pointy elbows and a high level of motivation to win three-legged races - before settling down at one of the many tables scattered around the park. Tucking in to his 'I didn't know you could prepare this many things using a grill' lunch, Harry takes a breath and feels himself relax for the first time since they arrived at the park that afternoon as the sun drops lower and a soft breeze rustles the leaves overhead.
A breeze that then carries a familiar floral scent and quiet chuckle. "Look at you, Mr Life of the Party."
Ginny's hands rest on his shoulders, kneading gently while Harry swipes at his mouth with a papery serviette. "I mingled!"
"Sure."
"I've got the bruises to prove it."
"Rhonda is rough," Ginny concedes, straddling the bench next to Harry, "I'm thinking of starting a little Pee Wee Quidditch league though."
Pushing his plate away, Harry twists in his seat and reaches out to touch the ends of GInny's wild hair. "Sounds lovely - can we press pause on that for another day, like tomorrow?"
Ginny smirks and pats his knee. "Afraid they'll like me better?"
"I pretty much assume everyone will like you more than me."
"Ah, and the marriage was just a ruse to get some of that animal charisma by association?"
Harry leans in and presses a kiss to her lips. "That. And so when you get all enthusiastic in public and then I get enthusiastic, I can lean in close and ask you to come home with me and -"
Her hand on his thigh tightens as she gasps out. "Let's get out of here, yeah?"