4.
That afternoon, Ginny walked into the cozy Muggle flat she and Harry lived in, feeling as though a coating of nerves was slowly covering her entire person. Having gone over a dozen or so different conversation starters in her mind over the course of the short walk from the closest train station, Ginny still felt none the wiser on how to broach the subject with her husband.
Checking her watch in surprise, after noticing Harry's work shoes in their designated space at the left side of the hallway, Ginny was shocked to find he was home. He had gone to work that morning and considering the time was currently only just after two pm, Ginny would not generally expect him home for at least three hours.
"Hon? You here?!" Ginny called, her stomach in knots as the realisation dawned over her that the conversation she had been dreading, that she had believed she had still had some time to prepare for, was most likely going to take place very shortly, far sooner than the redheaded witch had anticipated.
"Yeah, through here," Ginny heard Harry reply from what sounded like the kitchen. Kicking her own shoes off, Ginny followed the sound of her husband's voice. As she halted in the doorway. Ginny's eyes glanced around the small room, widening as they fell upon the site of an old t shirt and jogging bottom-clad Harry, his head hidden in the tall refrigerator as he searched the shelves.
"Hi." Ginny said, keeping her voice steady, the unfamiliar, unkempt look of her wizard such an unusual sight that Ginny found herself nervous for a whole new reason.
"Do you want a sandwich?" Harry asked, his head popping out from behind the door of the fridge, his arms full of a mixture of cheese and cold meats, his trademark messy hair for once matching the rest of his appearance.
"Yes, actually, I'm pretty hungry." Ginny answered, her stomach emitting a rather undignified growl at the sight of Harry's collection of fillings. "Harry," she said, watching him close the fridge door and carry the fillings to a pair of already buttered slices of bread.
"Hmm?"
"Are you okay?" Ginny questioned, her eyes flickering downwards once more, trying for her gaze to not linger on his choice of clothing.
"Yeah, why?" Harry answered, casually as he busied himself with the sandwich task.
"Well," Ginny began, keeping her voice collected, "the last time you wore anything close to," she gestured her hands over his entire body, "this, was last year when you had the flu."
Harry took a bite of his sandwich whilst passing the one he'd made Ginny over to her, "Comfy." He said with a shrug, his voice muffled through the mouthful of food.
"Thanks," Ginny replied, before adding, "It just isn't really you, is all."
Harry raised his shoulders in another shrug.
"I was wondering if we could...talk?" Ginny ventured, tentatively.
"Can it wait? Said I'd meet Ron in a bit."
"Oh, yeah. Of course." Ginny answered, clearly failing to keep her dismay from her face.
"You sure? What's wrong?" A frown creeping onto Harry's face as he examined Ginny's.
"Oh, nothing. Just...hormones or... It's fine, go have fun with my stupid brother."
"I don't have to-"
"No, it's fine, we'll talk when you get home. Try not to be too late"
"Sure," Harry said, walking past her and making her way to the living room. Ginny couldn't help feel a slight nudge of neglect remembered that until recently, until she'd been in hospital, Harry hardly ever welcomed her home or walked past her without at least giving her at least a quick kiss.
xxx
The blanket Ginny had wrapped around herself had fallen from her person as she dozed. When Harry didn't return after three hours, then four, five or even six, Ginny had taken a bath; painted her nails and called a local Muggle takeaway Chinese restaurant to deliver her some food. When Harry had still not come home after she'd finished her meal, Ginny had internally drifted through a multitude of emotions ranging from worry; to fear; to disappointment and finally; absolute fury. How dare Harry do this, he knew she was supposed to be avoiding stress and instead of helping that to be a reality, he was becoming the very reason she was experiencing stress.
Having drifted off as she sat on the couch awaiting his return, Ginny was awoken abruptly by the hearth opposite the couch bursting into a bright, green flame, illuminating the modest living room in a beacon of emerald glow.
Ginny rose to her feet in an instant, having instinctively grabbed her wand. Her demeanor relaxed when she recognised the stooped, dishevelled looking form that had appeared in the fireplace. Her grip on her wand, however, did not.
Harry slowly made his way out of the fireplace, his right hand held up in front of his face, palm facing a livid-looking Ginny.
Harry opened his mouth to speak, but before any words could be spoken, Ginny cut him off entirely, her shout, she oddly realised, eerily reminiscent of her mother; "WHAT THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU PLAYING AT, HARRY POTTER? I'M HERE, WORRIED SICK ABOUT YOU BECAUSE YOU SAID YOU WOULDN'T BE LONG, AND INSTEAD YOU STAY OUT ALL AFTERNOON, HALF THE FUCKING NIGHT AND COME HOME CLEARLY BLADDERED!"
"I...I know, look Gin I just needed some-"
"DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT TRYING TO JUSTIFY THIS HARRY! DON'T. EVEN. BOTHER! IN CASE IT ESCAPED YOUR NOTICE I HAPPEN TO BE CARRYING YOUR CHILD AND AM SUPPOSED TO BE AVOIDING STRESS. WELL, LET ME PENETRATE THAT THICK SKULL OF YOURS WITH THE KNOWLEDGE THAT MY HUSBAND STAYING OUT FOR HOURS ON END IS PRETTY FUCKING STRESSFUL."
Ginny tore eyes from him, stomping towards the door, "And don't even think about coming bed!"
A/N Try not to hate me just yet!