A/N: short something for you all!

There's nothing quite as unpleasant being woken from a dream that you are quite heartily enjoying. Ginny Potter is generally not a fan of being woken up anyway. It's usually two cups of coffee and three laps around the field before she's actually lucid enough to not want to fight the sun itself for ruining her sleep schedule.

And five years into their relationship, two years into their marriage, Harry Potter knows this truth well. Which is why he's currently tugging her from Morpheus' welcoming arms with slow, gentle kisses that give dream Harry a run for his money. Though things with dream Harry had progressed a bit further along.

Two sets of foreplay are pleasant enough that she won't make too much trouble.

She wrenches one eye open just enough to spy Harry blinking at her from behind his glasses, a small grin on his lips. "Morning."

"You know this needs to be good right?"

"Today's the first day in - " he pauses, brow furrowed in that way that's too cute for her to handle, while he does some mental calculating, "Two months that we've both had an entire day off at the same time."

"And?"

His smile widens while his arms band around her, dragging their bodies together, skin to skin. "And I want to make the most of it."

"Can I just lie here and think of England?" Ginny manages to breathe out even as Harry's fingers slip along her spine, curve around her hips.

"Yes, and no," Harry growls against her lips and sends a shiver down her spine, "I'd prefer you think of me."

Ginny sighs, stretching her back so her chest presses to Harry's temptingly. "That's up to you, isn't it?"

"You know I love a challenge, dear," Harry mumbles against her throat. He nips at her collar bone and wanders lower, his hands doing the same until her stolen pants are discarded haphazardly.

There's two things she enjoys about her little capers. First, Harry's pants are just so comfortable she's in flannel heaven. And second, when she steals them, Harry's too lazy to pull out another pair and just slips in bed au naturale. Which Ginny very much enjoys.

He's a wiry thing for sure, never going to be a bodybuilder, but damn if he doesn't have that tall dark and handsome thing going in spades. She kneads at his shoulders and groans. "Oh hell. If I say something, do you promise not to let it go to your head?"

Harry doesn't answer until he's slipped her jersey off and tossed it over the side of the bed. "Maybe."

And there's that stupid smirk she wishes she could hate but really just finds unbelievably, obnoxiously attractive, "You're just so - shit."

Harry stops his inspection of her chest and glances up at her, glassy eyed. "I'm shit?"

"You're annoying is what you are," Ginny growls, nudging him back toward his previous occupation.

Nonetheless, Harry does resume his activities, but slower and more torturously. His lips dragging in shrinking circles until his mouth closes around her and her moan pierces the morning quiet. "Still shit?"

Ginny tugs his hair. "Stuff it."

Harry laughs and switches his focus to her other side. "If you like."