A/N: I hope you enjoy! Canon hinny. sultry at the end

There's a few incidents in the marriage of Harry and Ginny that precede the purchase of a king size bed.

The first, is unsurprisingly, Ginny's tendency to sprawl like a human sized spider monkey. Which isn't really a problem. Harry's grown into a person who affirmatively enjoys human contact. Particularly with his wife. And this includes cuddling, spooning, tangled legs, et al.

But she sprawls, and their sleep schedules aren't in sync per se, and sometimes it's next to impossible for him to slip into bed when she's already asleep.

After one too many nights where Ginny's found him sleeping on the window seat wrapped in one of her ill-fated attempts at knitting with mum - mainly motivated by pure boredom after an end of season injury her second year with the Harpies - she decides they may have an issue. Ginny attempts to resolve the issue with a long chat about self respect and whatnot, and maybe Harry gets teary when she forcefully tells him he deserves a lot including a damn bed. But overall she thinks they've handled things.

Until the second incident - the cat. Minerva, god help them if that secret ever reaches the wrong ears, begins to grow past her kitten phase. Because a small kitten snuggling up to you, sleeping on your shoulder, curling up on the corner of your pillow - the list goes on - is not really a problem. But now, now Minerva is pretty much her full size and she is beautiful and adorable and Ginny loves her, but also would rather not suffocate in her sleep.

So she starts shuffling Minerva onto the mattress at her side, lets her curl against her spine and it's cute and then while Minerva spoons her, she spoons Harry, and it's all quite domestic. This means of course, that Minerva quickly becomes discontented and begins a series of evenings where Ginny and Harry are pounded with tiny little paws that wake them from all states of sleep, and culminates with Minerva somehow managing to actually shove Ginny from the bed.

Ginny feels a bit sorry, but the level of violence has escalated too high and she's forced to shut out the poor - still technically a kitten - kitten out of the bedroom at night. Which leads to earplugs and shared guilty looks when her sad whines slide under the door.

The third and final motivating factor is a little bit boring, and maybe would have been better as an introductory entry. But the story's been told and so now, the last - bedsheets.

Harry and Ginny have acquired many household items over the course of their marriage, both by purchasing themselves and gifts from the wedding onward. Most items, they can recall at least vaguely the purpose served in the original acquisition. But their collection - yes they have three or more of them - of king sized sheets is a complete mystery, and some days it feels like they're just independently multiplying when they're in the closet.

It's not really a reason to make the purchase but it does deserve to go last in the sense that it's the straw that broke the camel's back. Harry's folding the fitted sheet they've just removed and washed from what will later be referred to as the hobbit bed while Ginny fumes and pets the cat to try and relax.

"You know I have offered on multiple occasions to make fitted sheets strictly 'Harry Duty'."

'Harry Duty' was invented after one particularly stressful afternoon that almost ended with Ginny breaking every ornament they own and at least a few bones while trying to string lights on their Christmas tree. Ever since, when an activity or chore is a severely undesirable one for Ginny Weasley Potter, it is quickly relegated to Harry's specific responsibilities. He strings lights, does the washing, and cleans the litter box usually while Ginny watches and compliments his bum.

"No, I feel I need to master this one. It's within my grasp."

"Dunno, Gin. You were wrapped up like a caterpillar when I got home."

"I was getting close, Harry."

He completes another fold and winks, "Sure you were."

"Hey! I've become a very adept gutter cleaner," Ginny grumbles, "Fully muggle in my methods even."

As Harry disappears into the hall, presumably placing the folded sheet in the cupboard, he calls back, "Sure," there's a pause before he resumes, voice getting louder as he nears, "Have you ever wondered where all those giant sheets come from?"

"Giants need sheets too and the manufacturers know it," Ginny replies, waiting for the endeared eye roll she knows will soon follow her cheek.

Harry plops on the couch next to her and Minerva instantly moves to curl in his lap. His fingers find the back of her soft head and scratch lightly. "Because we've never had anything larger than a double and those are - Superkings."

"So?"

"Gin - do you know how large a Superking is?"

"Hm, let me think if I've shoved any pointless facts about measurements of things I don't own in my head lately," Ginny drawls, earning herself a sharp pinch on the back of her leg from Harry as he pouts.

"See I wasn't going to say 'It's almost twice as long and wide as you' because I'm trying to respect your wishes to not be mocked for your stature," Harry starts.

"Wise choice but I fear we're getting near the borderline for my rage monster," Ginny answers back, one brow flicking upward.

In the end, after much banter and a fairly satisfying husband and wife 'bonding session' on the couch, they do decide to give Superking a go. Ginny's splayed across Harry's chest on their secondary location - a haphazardly thrown chenille blanket on the floor - when she sighs, "Anything that gives us more surface area for shagging must be a good thing."

Which it is, in most ways. Harry's late night post-shift arrivals have zero impact on Ginny's sleep schedule, the sheets are a super high thread count, and they get a pillow topper which is just luxurious.

The whole set up is pretty great and complaining makes Harry feel like a tosser but Harry hasn't touched Ginny in a week. For the first thirteen days, he was distracted from the issue first because the Harpies won their season opening game and there was much touching, albeit outside the traditional bedroom setting. Luckily they remembered to seal the locker room door this time. Before that, Ginny was so wiped at night from training that she was generally asleep before her head hit the pillow. It wasn't long after the season's first game Harry was sent on assignment in Scotland and by the time he got back nine days later he was so tired he immediately fell asleep for about seventeen hours.

And now, thirteen days later, Ginny realizes Harry hasn't touched her in a week. Not in the husband and wife 'bonding session' sense - they have definitely made use of the increased surface area, most recently with a highly acrobatic mid afternoon 'hey we're both home bonding session.' But no cuddling, no cold feet pressed to calves, no koala clinging,

The worst part is that Ginny doesn't want to say anything. Not because she doesn't miss it, because she has discovered over the course of her marriage to Harry that she is a very tactile person. It's because Harry is sleeping so well. The bags under his eyes have paled, he dozes less in the evenings, and less impressively in terms of Ginny's observational skills, yesterday morning over brunch he said as much. And then they bonded some more and Ginny discovered just how sticky raspberry preserves make your bare bum.

Nonetheless, the damn cat is still on her damn pillow and Harry's frozen feet haven't chilled her skin in weeks.

But she can't complain to him, not when he looks so content in his sleep. Not about something so silly and selfish. It's not as though they don't have physical contact otherwise. Still, she wonders if he misses it too. If maybe he's relieved to be free of her space heater-like body.

She's retreading this train of thought for the umpteenth time since she slipped beneath the bedclothes at ten thirty - just about reaching the two hour mark, when the sheets shift around her.

Harry's not a big sleep mover so her initial assumption is that it's Minerva. Until her bottlebrush tail flicks across Ginny's eyes. In response to her glare, Minerva just blinks and drops from the headboard to the untouched corner of Ginny's pillow. They bought her a bed fit for feline royalty, it's feckin memory foam but apparently it's just not the same. Maybe Minerva is comforted by Ginny's smell, which could be cute if it wasn't so annoying.

Particularly since her pillow definitely needs its next 'too hot need the cold side' flip.

Just as Ginny's contemplating the wisdom of upsetting the delicate emotional state of her cat, long deft fingers wrap around her middle, chilling her even through the cotton of her oversized jersey.

Harry's messy hair appears from beneath the covers first, followed by his brilliant green eyes wide and boyish in the moonlight. "I have crossed fathoms of bed to be with you."

Ginny can't help but grin as he inches higher and presses a kiss to her forehead. Together, they end up shuffling so her body is molded along his, forehead pressed to his lazily beating pulse point.

His fingers run through her hair, combing out knots in the short locks. "You know. If something is bothering you I want to hear."

She grunts and snuggles closer.

"I'm the emotionally stunted one. Don't steal my role in the relationship."

Another grunt and she manages to drum up a very small amount of indignation. Though Harry's calming strokes are putting up a bit of a fight. "Excuse me."

The real indignation comes when Harry pulls away and maneuvers Ginny onto her back, sending Minerva sprawling toward the floor and upsetting Ginny's almost sleep. Which likely would've been her best in about...two weeks.

His thumb strokes her cheek and he's got that look. But he's not getting the upper hand that easily. It takes more than a two minute cuddle and some well placed fingers. "You upset Minerva!"

Harry shifts and brings his hips flush with hers. "Please don't mention that name when - we're at a delicate point in the process."

Ginny grins and lets her hand slip south, seeking and playful. "I dunno little Harry seems to be doing alright."

He manages a response that classes slightly higher than an unintelligible grunt. "I know you're just trying to taunt me."

"With what."

And while she does enjoy teasing, there is a limit. Because the more she taunts him with soft touches, almost kisses, and coy looks, the more she teases him physically the closer she gets to driving herself completely batty.

Harry knows it too, and uses her distraction to begin working their clothing free. First her t-shirt, then his, but she manages to slip his pants off and give his bare bum a squeeze for good measure. His hips jolt toward her and Ginny laughs against his lips. "So sensitive."

"Is that a problem?" Harry drawls against her collarbone, slim fingers finally dragging her knickers down her legs. Or at least most of the way.

"I can help you out down there," Ginny says to the top of his head while Harry continues his battle with her inexplicably tangled underwear. "I know it's challenging to just - take underwear off."

But he does manage it, with some swearing and grunting, and then for her sass, nips at her hip bone. Then his lips drag up her side and she can't quite manage coherent thought. Not when his hands drag up her arms and their fingers lock together. "Harry - please."

He props himself up on both elbows and grins. "The tables have turned, eh?"

"Oh yeah you're amazing," Ginny chuckles, shifting her hips against his. He moans and presses his forehead to her neck.

"Minx."

Ginny's retort dies on her lips as Harry finally grasps her hips and shifts forward. Her hands search wildly for something to keep her grounded, one finding Harry's hair and the other wrapping around the headboard.

The metal chills her fingers but she can't manage to focus on the sensation when Harry's lips leave hers and desperately travel down her neck, shoulders, and further.

In the end, they're a couple of droopy eyed, sweat sheened messes sprawled crookedly across the bed and Ginny takes some pride in Harry's utterly wrecked expression. He presses a kiss to the crown of her head. "So this bed really is good."

Ginny hums. "I miss your cold toes."

"You know," Harry says after a moment, "Cuddles don't have to happen by accident."

He tugs her across his chest and Ginny complies, propping her chin on her forearms. "You've been sleeping so well - I didn't want to ruin it."

Harry kisses her once, twice, a third time, long and slow. "You know I sleep better when you're around."

"I do?"

"Oh. I never said that?"

Ginny pitches her voice low, affecting her best Harry impression, which is pretty solid if she does say so herself. "You know. If something's bothering you, I want to hear."

That earns her a flick to the tip of her nose. "Don't pull that, Weasley."

"I'll pull whatever I want. And you'll like it."

Harry's lips find hers again. "Yeah, I will."