A/N: Enjoy!
THC – Year 8 – Round 2
House: Gryffindor
Class: Astronomy
Category: Drabble
Prompts: [Location] Kitchen
WC: 858
Beta(s): secretfanficlover
~~ burnt sauce ~~
Ginny barely manages her way up the stairs to her tiny apartment.
Her arms are completely full, as she has her handbag, her sports bag, and five plastic bags overflowing with goods themself. She would've levitated them all but the closest grocer is Muggle, and it's currently half past nine, and she really can't be bothered to go anywhere else just to buy some food.
Especially since buying food has been a main priority for quite some time now. The fridge is constantly empty back at the apartment, not because she can't afford it, but because Ginny is simply never home. When the Quidditch season starts up, she's being whisked off to different parts of the country, sometimes even abroad, and she doesn't need a full fridge back at home.
But now that the season is over, there is a desperate need for sustenance, because if her professional nutritionist finds out she has had take-out for six nights in a row, he's going to have a heart-attack. And while she sometimes does want to slap dear Andrew because Ginny would like to eat as many sausage rolls as she wants, he has a kind heart. And also, her broom would not forgive her if she indulged in salty, greasy goodies once more.
Not that Ginny is complaining, of course. She picked this life for herself, and there is nothing she loves more than spending the entire day on her broomstick passing Quaffle after Quaffle through hoops.
But when she's just spent a strenuous day training and her legs are basically dead, she just doesn't feel like carrying ten-kilos worth of groceries three floors up because she's just too damn tired to Apparate safely.
Ginny finally reaches her front door, and somehow, against all laws of gravity, manages to fish out her keys and open the door without dropping anything. There's the satisfying click, and then she's in. Immediately her body relaxes as she shoves the door open with her leg.
But once she enters, she immediately notices some things are wrong.
One: the lights are on.
Two: there is the faint sound of the radio.
And three: the delicious smell of roasted chicken is wafting out from behind the kitchen door.
Ginny pushes her way curiously into the kitchen, the pulse of her heart quickly picking up. Could it be? How come? Did she get her dates wrong?
"Ginny! You're back!" Harry exclaims. He's at the stove, wearing a pink apron her mother bought for her when she first moved out, stirring some sort of sauce, looking absolutely adorable, but most importantly, very handsome, and very present.
Ginny lets all of her bags drop to the floor of the kitchen, barely caring about the breaking sound that clearly indicates that the eggs are done for.
"What do you mean I'm back!" she replies, elation quickly jumping into her voice. "You weren't supposed to come back until next week."
"Yeah, well the job finished early, so I thought I'd surprise you," he says, a small smile on his face.
Ginny takes a moment to take him in. As a busy auror, Harry often goes on dangerous missions that last a long time and are always quite risky. But it's been a long time since she's made her peace with that. After all, she too leads a busy life.
He looks a little tired, and there's a couple of scratches on the side of his face, nothing too serious. But, apart from that, his hair is still a complete mess, and he still has his darling lop-sided smile, so she knows it's her Harry.
She throws himself into his arms, kissing him fully.
The kiss ends far too soon for her liking when Harry murmurs against her mouth: "The sauce is going to burn."
"Let it burn," she tells him, unwilling to let him go.
"I didn't buy enough eggs," he tried to argue with her.
Ginny ignores this. "You can just use mine. Oh, wait. No. They're probably broken."
This makes her pause as she looks at the mess of shopping bags she's left on the floor. "Did you just say you bought eggs?"
Harry nods. "Did the shopping for you. I know how you always forget."
"Oh, no. So did I."
Suddenly, the two of them take into account the absolutely preposterous amount of food they've gotten. Harry's bags of shopping are still on the kitchen table, and Ginny's are on the floor, but they've definitely got enough to feed a family of five for a week.
And a family of five, they are not.
Ginny bursts out laughing and Harry joins her quickly.
"Thank you for buying the groceries," she says through her laughs.
"We really need to organise ourselves better," Harry agrees.
And that is how they spend the rest of the evening; with a smile on their faces, just enjoying each other's company in their small kitchen. Maybe the sauce is burnt, maybe they don't have any more eggs, and maybe they'll have to give their excess groceries to a soup kitchen tomorrow, but at least they have each other, and that's already a lot.
