Sunlight streamed through a gap in the curtains and onto the bed. Ginny's eyelids fluttered open and she rolled over onto her side, trying to escape the light. She heard clattering from the kitchen and slowly sat up. Her long hair hung around her face in wild whorls and ringlets. Shifting both feet out from under the covers and placing them on the floor, she gradually stood up. She shuffled out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, where she found Harry repairing an eggcup that he had dropped.

"Morning, darling. Soft boiled egg?" he asked cheerily.

Blearily, she nodded, standing behind him and putting her arms around his large, lean trunk. Though he had ended up being a large man with broad shoulders and big hands and feet, he had never filled out very well, and he had a sort of gaunt look about him. Ginny, too, was tall and thin (and virtually hip-less, she pointed out to Hermione on several occasions) having inherited her father's lanky frame. Currently, the outlines of her shoulder blades and ribs were quite visible through her night gown.

Harry set the water to boil and levitated two eggs out of their carton.

"Please be careful with those eggs," she was biting her lip. If he had already broken an eggcup, he had an excellent chance of breaking one or both eggs.

"I'm being careful, don't worry." He resented that no one thought he could cook. In truth, he was horrible, relying on eggs, tea, and beans on toast as staples of his bachelor's diet. Mostly he went out if he was really hungry.

Ginny giggled and played with the hair at the nape of his neck. She leaned over and looked at his watch.

"Oh, Merlin. I have to go in fifteen minutes," she sighed.

"Why so early?" Ginny usually went to work at nine.

"The sales analyst chap was going to meet with me to discuss this book I'm looking at. It was written by a Merman. Bit of mud-slinging, if you ask me, pointing fingers at the Fudge administration, but it's expected to sell huge numbers, so Magnus is pushing it hard."

Ginny had received the manuscript the day after Julius was born. After spending three weeks making sure that the translation from Mermish was accurate and another week checking the English grammar, Ginny was now researching the historical facts in the book to make sure everything checked out. So far, the Mermaid chief seemed to know what he was talking about, but Ginny still had to verify every single date in the footnotes.

After showering, dressing and breakfasting, Ginny gave Harry a quick kiss, murmured, "Don't have too much fun while I'm away, okay?" and Disapparated.

She arrived in Mr. Singh's office at exactly eight o' clock, and right on time. He was behind his desk, scribbling something with a huge, white, fluffy quill. He looked up and smiled warmly at her when she arrived.

They got straight to work. Ginny presented him with statistics on the number of translators they'd had working, the number of mistakes they'd found in the translation, and how long she expected it would take for the team to get the book published. After reviewing these details with Mr. Singh, Ginny sat back in her chair and waited for him to begin. He didn't.

He was staring at her lustily. She immediately recognized this look and began a feeble excuse to try and leave, but he cut her off.

"You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, Ginny."

'Liar,' she thought angrily. She was not flattered and did not like this at all.

He got up and crossed the office to stand between her and the door.

"I know that sometimes relationships in a working environment are a bad idea, but-"

Ginny interrupted him this time. "You're absolutely right. These things simply lead to awkward situations." She was trying her very hardest to be polite. She again tried to excuse herself, but he wouldn't move.

"Mr. Higgs speaks most highly of you," he said. He had a beatific smile on his face which might have looked genuine and kind, if he hadn't been cornering a young co-worker who was obviously not interested.

"In fact, everyone really likes you. As do I, clearly."

"Look Nigel, I don't want to offend, but I'm engaged to be married," she stated forthrightly.

His face fell instantaneously. "I'm so sorry," he said, and then moved out of her way, mortified. His face was quickly paling and he stared at his highly-polished leather shoes. "I was out of order just then."

"Yes," said Ginny shortly before pulling open the large oak door of his office and hastening down the hall, not bothering to close it.

She slammed the door of her own office, threw her things on the desk, and collapsed onto her large chair, breathing heavily, her face contorted.

The nerve of that man! He was probably fifteen years older than her, senior to her, hardly knew her…and when he wouldn't let her out of his office… Merlin, she needed to calm down. She had a lot of work to do.

Late in the afternoon, Ginny ventured out of her office for a cup of tea in the break room. As was to be expected, Nigel was there, though this time they weren't alone. Ginny's friend Faustus Hopper, clad in an ink-stained apron, was trying to extract a pastry from the case in the corner. He spotted her and waved.

"Ginny! How's it going with your nephew?" Mr. Hopper was very interested in little Julius, as his own son and daughter-in-law were expecting a baby very soon.

"Oh, he's doing quite well. He hasn't smiled yet, but he moves his head a lot and makes noise," they laughed quietly at this.

"And how's your Mr. Potter?" said Mr. Hopper, winking and smiling. Kind old Faustus had walked in on them in a cupboard once, while Harry was "visiting".

Ginny would have given him a sack of Galleons not to say this.

"Potter?" asked Mr. Singh. "Harry Potter?"

"Oh yes," Mr. Hopper continued excitedly, "our Miss Weasley's very good friends with Mr. Potter." He put extra emphasis on the word "friend". Nigel stiffened slightly and said detachedly, "Well, good day to both of you," and stalked off.

Mr. Hopper looked at Ginny inquiringly, but she simply shook her head, said goodbye and went back to work with her tea.

The uncomfortable situation at work intensified two weeks later, when a small party was given for Blenheim Stalk, an accomplished author of many Muggle studies books, who had published what he said would be his last book: MUGGLES WHO SEE MAGIC AND CONSEQUENTLY SAY THINGS CONSTRUED AS ODD BY OTHER MUGGLES.

Because the party was held in the evening, Ginny brought Harry. Everyone was dressed very smartly and holding a cocktail. Ginny led Harry over to Mr. Higgs, to whom Harry was a downright idol. After signing an autograph for Mr. Higgs' "great-niece", Harry was accosted by Brumhilde Doff, a middle-aged witch in accounting, and was ordered to dance. Shrugging and laughing, Harry was dragged onto the floor, where he patiently danced with Brumhilde and courteously listened to her chatter. Ginny watched from the side, blissfully free from unfamiliar dance partners. She strolled over to where the band was set up, the hem of her dress robes fluttering as she walked. The group was comprised entirely of witches, who were playing old jazz on older instruments. She watched them until the song ended and felt a small tap on her shoulder. Smiling, she spun round and found Nigel Singh pompously grinning back at her. He held out his hand.

"If you would, might I have this dance?"

She felt sick, she was so angry.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Singh, but I'm not much for dancing." She said this slowly, so he could hear the spite that was dripping off every word. He did. He pursed his lips, nodded, turned on his heel and swaggered away. It was, of course, a lie that she didn't like dancing. She intended that he might see her dancing all evening, and get the message that she was exclusively disinterested in him.

Harry came up suddenly and gave her a cartoonish pout.

"Why the long face, Snugglebutton?" At least someone was in a good mood.

"Some creep keeps making passes at me," she muttered. Harry didn't seem too pleased.

"For how long? Where is he?" He demanded.

"Look, it's no big deal. I can handle it."

"You look pretty angry, now, though," he reasoned. "Come on, love, let's dance. I like this song."

"Do you even know this song, Harry?" Ginny laughed as they strode onto the floor.

"Of course!" He hummed along with a high-speed tune as he grabbed her hands and twirled her around.

For half an hour, they were on the dance floor, staying up for every number. Finally, Harry said he was thirsty and led her to the punch bowl.

Mr. Higgs was in front of the gherkins, sipping a glass of sherry.

"Delightful party, Magnus," Harry drawled.

"Thank you, Mr. Potter! I think so, too!" He was tipsy and blustering, but seemed to be having a grand time.

Harry and Ginny got their punch and sat down near the wall opposite the band. This offered them a good view of the dancers' antics.

"I was thinking," Harry said over the din.

"Oh dear. Not again," giggled Ginny, getting a bit tipsy herself.

"I think we should get married before the end of the year," he said.

Ginny stared at him. "But…we haven't even told anyone we're engaged."

"That's not a problem, " he was solemnly looking into Ginny's eyes. "We can set a date, and then tell people."

The ends of Ginny's mouth twitched a little, and she wrapped her arms around Harry's neck.

"New Year's Eve?" she inquired.

Harry laughed deeply, proclaiming, "I am so in love with you," as he kissed her intensely, not minding the affronted gaze of Brumhilde Doff.