The children were asleep in their beds, succumbing to dreams; her hair was washed; and the only sounds in the house were the steady ticking of the grandfather clock and the slap of her bare feet against the hardwood floors. They were new, the floors, and rather extravagant. Most of it was just regular wood, but there were whorls of elder in there, made from wand wood trees, and rich with magic and protection spells. Harry had insisted on it. It was warm beneath her feet.

She found him in the sitting room, brooding in the armchair beside the hearth, where a fire crackled and popped. The glow of it gave his pale skin a borrowed warmth. His robes were hung neatly, and his clothes were rumpled. Merlin, but he looked tired. And why wouldn't he? Two weeks away from home was his limit — they'd agreed to that before marrying, no more long separations — and he'd taken every Portkey he could get his hands on to make it home today. He'd sent her a patronus every time he made another connection. It wore on him, she could see, in the tired lines etched on his handsome face. Last November, when he'd been gone two weeks, he said it had felt like twelve.

"The children are going to be out of their heads tomorrow," said Ginny.

He drummed his fingers on the armrest. "Ought I to have gone up tonight and—"

"No," said Ginny. A little laugh escaped her. "I'm glad you hid. They never would have gone to bed otherwise. And I have plans."

This brought his gaze around to her. Some of the tiredness washed away. "Oh?" he said. "What kind of plans?"

Ginny wore one of her most comfortable robes: it was blue and had stars on it. It was soft and cozy and had been her comfort during all her evenings since James was a babe in arms. Harry had seen her in it a thousand times. She tugged on the sash that held it together, and let it fall in a slow glide off her shoulders and down her arms to puddle at her feet on the floor. Just after her shower, she'd applied a scented oil to herself. It was that aroma that wafted up between them — fresh and flowery — and she watched with no small amount of pride that a muscle in his jaw leapt.

"You aren't too tired?" he said. The note of hope made heat pool between her thighs.

"No," she said, amused. "I'm not the one whose been traveling all day."

"You've had our little zoo to keep an eye on," said Harry. "Four puffs, three cats, three children, two owls, one moke, and one dog."

"We've added two puffs," said Ginny. "So… five. And you're including our children as one of the exhibits." She folded her arms, plumping up her breasts. Harry's gaze drifted there and stayed.

"Yeah," he said.

"I suppose… that's fair," said Ginny. She shifted, then cupped herself with her hand, stroking her thumb across her nipple, circling it, then giving it a little tweak. "They can be little beasts."

His hand drifted to his lap, long fingers stroking.

Heat continued to pool between her thighs. They teased each other, but one of the main reasons why they held so hard to their two week rule was that despite years of marriage, neither one of them wanted to go any longer than that without intimacy. They'd chuckled about it — it was a promise made between bouts of lusty love-making — but it held true these years later. Her thumb drifted down her slick belly. His gaze followed her. Biting her lip, she touched herself in earnest, teasing her labia, then finding the bead of her clit.

Tonight… was not going to have a long performance.

Harry was in much the same mood, she saw, his hand working in his lap, squeezing himself through the fabric of his light, pinstriped trousers. There was one way she could make herself last a little longer. She licked her lips, strode forward to settle before him on her knees. "Let me at that," she said, swatting his hand away.

"My pleasure," he rumbled.

He helped her take it out, but left her to it once she'd given his shaft a long, slow lick. Ginny allowed herself to sink into the moment, savoring the salt on her tongue, and his hands in her hair. He thickened and hardened further under her ministrations, filling her mouth wide. Leisure was her aim, and she gave the head little licks, flattening her tongue against the small hole, receiving another burst of flavor. His breathing quickened; so did hers. She shifted when her knees began to protest, sitting back on her heels. Harry followed her, pressing the tip of him between her lips, pushing into her mouth while Ginny suckled him.

But just when she knew he was at a point when he needed release, Ginny drew back, out of his reach, and wiped her mouth. Her other hand was between her legs, touching where she needed him, stroking herself to join him where he was.

"Come here, Ginny," he ordered. His color was high. He was watching her.

Ginny threw her shoulders back, rubbing her clit as fierce as she could, and raised her eyebrow.

"Ginny." He refused to rescind the order and her clit jerked under her finger. "Now. Please."

"Well, now that you ask nicely."

"We both know—"

"You aren't asking. Yes." Ginny's smile was born out of the most aroused part of her. She loved it when Harry used that tone. It reverberated through her, his deep voice did, finding a chord that aroused her even further. Without waiting any longer, she straddled him, rubbing herself along his shaft. He was mostly dressed and she was fully naked; the fabric of his clothes rubbed against her tender parts, abrading her.

All Ginny did was wince, and he was barking out a command that had his clothes vanish. He was just as naked as she was, now, and she slid onto him with a groan. "Yesss," she said. Oh, God, he was filling her. "Oh, fuck, Harry, you feel so good."

"Yeah," he grunted. "Yeah, you do."

They went at each other, settling into a rhythm. Ginny rode him hard, setting a pace that made sweat bead on her back.

"Ginny — fuck — you're going to make me cum," he said.

"No," she said. "Don't cum, not yet."

"I can't help it, you're doing it exactly—"

"Fuck." Ginny ground down on him. The throaty sound that came from her matched the sound wrenched from him.

"Blow job got me going—"

"You needed it, you were so tightly wound—"

"Well, now I'm unwound, I'm about to cum, but—"

Then, Ginny squeaked. Harry erupted beneath her, spilling them out of the chair. Their bodies still joined, his thick cock still in as deep as it would go, he raised them up. Her bottom cradled under one arm, he held them still, grunting a spell. He tumbled them to the floor, which was now as soft as their very fine bed upstairs, and began to make love to her with long, slow strokes.

"I missed you too much for two minute sex," he whispered in her ear.

Ginny wrapped her legs around his lower back and held on.

Minutes, or perhaps hours, later, he still prodded her. Their bodies glistened with sweat, and the scent of their joining mingled with the flowery scent of her oil. A long, slow orgasm built in her, finally spilling over when he circled his hips. Ginny cried out against his shoulder, squeezing him as hard as she could, near mindless with how good he felt inside her, how happy she was he was finally home, and how much she loved him. "Oh, God, Harry, I love you!" she shouted this at the crest of her pleasure.

Heat spilled inside her a minute later when he joined her. The last of his thrusts heightened her pleasure enough she could barely breathe. All she could do was hold him.

It wasn't until her breathing settled that she stretched and in doing so realized one important thing: there were no sore spots, no aches, nothing bruised by the love-making they'd done on the floor. It truly was as soft as their bed. Rolling over to her side, ignoring her husband's sleepy protest, she stroked their new flooring. Honestly, it was as soft as a pillow.

"What is this?" she marveled.

"I told you," he said, voice thick with sleep, "it's made partly of wandwood. It h-holds a spell better'n anything." His yawns came fast. "W-we could sleep down here."

"No, Potter," she said. "Up and at 'em."

"You're a hard task master, Potter," he grumbled. But a moment later they were standing, arms wrapped around each other. He nuzzled the top of her head. Ginny skated her fingers up his spine. Neither of them seemed to want to stop touching the other.

"We're going to have to climb up the stairs like an urchin," she mumbled against his chest.

He ignored this. She could not blame him. "You always know," he said. "You always know exactly what I need, when I need it. You're magical."

"Hmm," said Ginny, pulling back a little. "If we go upstairs and get a few hours of sleep, you can tell me again how magical I am before the kids wake up."

"Deal," said Harry.

HPHPHPHPHP

Author's Note: It has been very nice these last two weeks to get back to writing my favorite thing: loving smut between my two favorite characters. It's been an interesting year for me, writing-wise. I've written an original novella, I'm rewriting an original super-novella that is (at last count) 160,000 words. I can't jinx it and take off the l and the a. But other than some one-shots, I haven't written much H/G and I miss them like you would not believe. I've been idly trying to come up with a long idea for them, wish me luck!

As it is, this was written for blvnk's hashtag smuthinnysunday.