AN: B 13, and the prompt is: "You know you're my favorite, right?" "I better be."

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Oh, and did I mention that I had this number.

"We're back," Harry called, pushing James and Albus through the door into the warm hallway of their cottage. The two boys' clothes were still clammy from the snowball fight they had just won against their father, a defeat Harry had gladly accepted. The good mood of his sons was reward enough for him.

"That's perfect," Ginny called back. "I've just finished dinner. Oh, and leave your wet clothes in the laundry room."

A few minutes later, the children stormed into the kitchen, followed by Harry and took their seats at the table, where their younger sister, Lily, was already sitting at a high table and chewing pieces of a sandwich.

Ginny placed two bowls of hot noodle soup in front of the boys. "Enjoy your soup. It's Grandma Molly's recipe."

While the boys launched themselves on the soup with vigour, Ginny gave Harry a pot of hot tea and added a fair shot of firewhisky.

"Ah, you know you're my favourite, right?" " Harry grinned at her with a satisfied moan.

"I better be," Ginny replied with an innocent look.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Or what?"

"You know that I do the laundry. It would be easy to sprinkle some itching powder in your underpants," Ginny replied with a mischievous grin.

"You wouldn't do that to me," Harry said, a little uncertainly, knowing that his wife was good for one prank or another.

"You know me too well," she admitted with a laugh. "I would never do this to someone who calls me their favourite."