Prompt fill - "Hinny moving in together?"
Mrs. Weasley cried when the news was broken to her, which baffled almost everyone else gathered in the kitchen for Sunday lunch.
"It's either because her youngest child is growing up," said George, helpfully, "or because she's going to be living in sin."
Harry choked on his drink.
"Living in sin!" Ginny repeated crossly, her ears turning fuchsia. "That's such a stupid idea, and anyway, what about you and Angelina? And Ron and Hermione will be living together now, I don't see anyone making a fuss about that –"
"No one's making a fuss about you and Harry, dear, we're very happy for you," said Mrs. Weasley, mopping her eyes. "It's just – our little girl, in her first home! Oh, dears, you will come back and visit, won't you?"
Nobody felt it was worth pointing out that Ginny had moved out of the Burrow some time ago, to share a flat in Cardiff with several fellow Harpies, or that each Weasley child who had left always came back to visit frequently – with the exception of Charlie, who turned up sporadically and unexpectedly, usually sporting some horrible new burns. Sunday lunch at the Burrow was almost mandatory, which Harry didn't mind at all. He couldn't imagine ever not wanting to see the Weasleys.
"Of course we will," he said easily.
"And you will be all right, won't you?" Mrs. Weasley pressed on anxiously. "Feeding yourselves, and – and cleaning, and doing your washing, and –"
"Don't say you're going to offer to do it for them," Ron interrupted, sounding scandalised. "What rubbish! Harry and I've been doing our own washing and cooking since we left here, he doesn't need any help at all! Unless," he added, his tone changing rapidly, "unless you'd like to do me and Hermione's washing, Mum, in which case –"
"No," said Hermione firmly.
"- oh all right then, but you know you hate it!"
"No one's going to do anything for us," said Ginny calmly. "We're both adults and we're perfectly capable, thank you very much."
"Well, if you're sure, dear …" Mrs. Weasley still looked worried; Harry was touched by her concern, but it was laughable, the thought that he and Ginny wouldn't be able to look after themselves, when he, Harry, was an Auror, and Ginny a professional and increasingly successful Quidditch player; to everyone else, they were competent young adults, but to Mrs. Weasley it seemed they would always be children who needed their socks washing.
"At least let us help you move," Mr Weasley suggested genially. "I wouldn't mind having another look at the place, myself."
"That's really kind of you," said Harry, "but actually Ron already offered to give up his weekend to help us –"
"Ha, ha," said Ron sardonically, surreptitiously making a very rude hand gesture in Harry's direction. "You know what, I'd love to, but I can't, I'm busy."
"Doing what?" George asked suspiciously.
"Minding my own business," said Ron.
In the end, he did come by, as did most of the Weasleys - ostensibly to help, but really to have a nose around Harry and Ginny's new home. Mr and Mrs. Weasley, characteristically, insisted on doing as much as they could, and Hermione, Percy and Bill mucked in too, but the rest were far more of a hindrance than a help in moving Harry and Ginny's things from the London and Cardiff flats.
"What's this room here?" asked George as he pulled open a door adjacent to the main bedroom and poked his head in. "Is this where you're going to keep your illegitimate children? I – OWWW!"
"Sorry," said Ginny blithely, rescuing the box of books she had dropped on George's foot, "my mistake."
Downstairs, Fleur had perched herself on the sofa with baby Victoire in her arms ("I would love to 'elp, but I 'ave ze baby. Eef I deed not 'ave ze baby, I would 'elp. Eet ees most unfortunate.") and was giving a running commentary of her observations.
"Eet ees very beautiful," she was saying, approvingly. "Per'aps not as beautiful as our 'ome, but eet ees lovely still. Such a pretty place, I 'ad not been 'ere before. But ze – signs, I am not understanding zem, ze words are not Eenglish –"
"No, it's Welsh," Harry explained. "It doesn't really make sense." He'd struggled with the name of the little village when telling people where they were moving to, but when he said "it's in Wales," he would invariably receive an understanding nod.
"Well, eet ees a gorgeous place, and so near ze sea, 'ow lucky, and ze 'ouse ees so charming, I imagine you weell be very cold in ze winter, but zere is ze fireplace, so darling – Bill, eesn't eet nice?"
"Very nice," said Bill, grinning at Harry. "Well chosen. Very different from London, but I don't suppose that's a bad thing."
To Harry, it was perfect. He loved London, but often craved peace and anonymity, and could not imagine a place more perfect than the little village in the breath-taking Welsh peninsula, with its great craggy coastline and brightly painted houses: a respite from the clamour of London and the Ministry. The thought of leaving the Auror Office each day and returning to this cottage, to see Ginny, felt like more than he could have possibly wished for. He looked around the uneven living room, with its dark wooden beams and great fireplace and wooden floors already strewn with colourful woven rugs, and pictured evenings in front of the hearth; Monday mornings in the small kitchen; lazy Sunday mornings in their bedroom …
"Look at you bunch of slackers, standing around nattering," said George, coming through with a single cushion in his hand. "You sicken me, I hope you know that."
"D'you need a hand with that?" Harry asked, straight-faced, gesturing at the cushion.
"Less of the cheek, my friend, or my attitude towards you shacking up with my sister may change –"
"Well, you know where to find us if it does," said Harry.
The cushion hit him squarely in the face.
Gradually, the cottage started to take shape, and the Weasleys drifted away in twos and threes. Ron and George in particular seemed rather reluctant to leave them alone, but finally, they did, and Harry and Ginny stood in their new home, blinking at each other.
"So."
"I know. We live together," said Ginny, her voice several octaves higher than usual. "We live together! Alone! Oh …" She closed her eyes and flung out her arms, a blissful expression spreading over her face. "Isn't it wonderful?"
"Wonderful," Harry agreed, smiling at her. "Really, really … wonderful."
Evening had crept in, and his stomach was starting to rumble. Mrs. Weasley had, despite protests, left a pantry full of food, but Harry didn't feel much like cooking.
"I don't feel much like cooking," said Ginny, sighing. "But I'm hungry. Shall we go out?"
Harry thought for a moment.
"You know, I think I saw a chip shop in the village …"
He returned twenty minutes later, freezing cold but clutching two steaming paper-wrapped parcels, to find that Ginny had lit the fire and set candles floating around the living room, put out plates on the coffee table, and poured two glasses of wine.
"Welcome home," she said with a lascivious grin.