A/N: little prompt fill from tumblr! hope you like
The pizza's cold.
It's a small issue. There's the oven, the microwave, the countless spells he could cast with his wand to bring it back to the ideal temperature.
He's not usually such a huge prat about things, but Harry's so hungry. And very tired. And really just wants an evening with his girlfriend where they're both conscious and around and watching a stupid film together.
To be fair, he's cancelled about five hundred times more than Ginny ever has. But this time, he essentially told off Robards and ordered two large pizzas to drown his sorrows while he and Ginny watched whatever the latest big budget action film they'd selected on the telly.
But, he's hungry and tired so he's not very reasonable at the moment.
So when the lock of his front door clicks, Harry's a bit angry, but at the world in general. Ginny just gets the brunt of his frustration. He's not proud, far from it.
He hears her drop her bag with a glatter. "You'll never guess what - "
"Welcome to our date two hours late," Harry drawls, slouching further down on the couch, "Almost late enough that it's tomorrow."
Her brows rise. "Well thanks for that warm welcome. I could just leave and come back when you feel less like an ass."
Harry's chastised enough that he's more pouty than angsty at this point, but he's a stubborn little prat, so he grumbles, "Then the frigid pizza's for nothing."
Ginny kicks his legs, jostling his feet from their place on the coffee table. "Care to enlighten me on this little funk that's being foisted on me after I was thrown off a building?"
Halfway through her inquiry, Harry was ready to cut in with some sort of cutting rejoinder, but at the mention of defenestration, his tack changes and he's already on his feet, wand in hand. "What the - who threw you?"
Smirking, Ginny drops down onto the couch and tugs Harry back into his seat. "Nobody threw me."
"But you - you said 'thrown off a building.'"
She inches closer and throws her legs over Harry's lap, her head pillowed on his shoulder. "I needed to get your attention. Nothing like a crime to get Auror Potter in gear."
"So you didn't?
Ginny laughs, fiddling with a little hole worn in his t-shirt absently, "I did almost fall off the roof - me and the other chasers were messing about on a break and the quaffle ended up on top of the clubhouse and I figured I'd just get it."
"And…"
"And I got off my broom so I could climb across the roof and a gust caught me in the crosswinds and well. It's lucky I'm so quick to climb on my broom," Ginny says, a bit of flirtatious mischief tinging her voice as the sentence comes to a close.
Harry's fingers tease at the hem of her jersey and Ginny melts, just for a moment, before pulling away. He's honest enough to own the near whine that squeezes from his throat.
Her finger's aimed between his brows and her look is no nonsense and far from the flirtation of just seconds before. Which in theory is good for her cause, but in reality, Harry's got quite a thing for Ginny's 'serious' face.
Ginny knows, but she's also not going to let him off so easy. At least not yet. It's one of Harry's favorite things about her, when he's out of the heat of things and in a more reasonable mood. Even before they were together, she didn't hesitate to tell him when he was being a dumb little arsehole. Savior or no, Ginny Weasley took guff from no man.
"I may be randy, but I want an apology first," Ginny says, "Tell me you're sorry for being a toe rag."
Harry laughs, "You know Mum called Dad a toe rag once."
"Don't blame this on genetics," Ginny answers, "You worked yourself up into that lather all on your own."
He shrugs and pulls Ginny closer. "Nah, I know. But maybe it's a Potter thing to fall for redheads who don't take guff."
Ginny hums. "I'll accept that."
"Good enough for me."