A/N: This is kind of silly and pointless, but I've never written Harry/Ginny and I suddenly had a great desire to, plus I was way overdue on posting for the challenge so I wrote this. Also, I've not posted anything for ages because of school (german speaking tests and english essays galore) and I really hate not updating. I will try and update my chaptered fics too, but my muse is quite a fickle thing at the moment.

SMELL

Ginny woke up and instantly wrinkled her nose. What was that smell? She sat up and looked across at Harry's side of the bed- it was empty. What was he doing that would cause such a stink? She ran a hand through her tangled red hair and yawned, absentmindedly wondering what the time was.

She shuffled into her slippers pulled one of Harry's hooded jumpers over her small frame, shivering slightly as she moved to the door. Picking her wand up from the floor- she was often very careless with it; one of the only things Harry moaned about as he had gone without his wand for a long period of time during the war- she opened the door wide. Seeing nothing but a glow from down the stairs, she closed the bedroom door and descended the staircase.

She found Harry in the kitchen, his back to her as he fiddled with something on the large oven. She smiled; he was cooking. He must be in a good mood- usually he left it all to her- she'd inherited her mother's aptitude for it.

"Harry? What's that smell?" Ginny leant against the marble topped cupboard island in the middle of their kitchen, not bothering to lift herself up onto one of the wooden barstools.

"Oh- Ginny! I didn't realise you were awake!" Harry turned around, flustered, his black apron covered in floury marks, his hands firmly behind his back.

"Are you cooking?" Ginny asked, grinning.

"What? Well, yes, or, attempting to… I wanted to make you something…" Harry explained, his cheeks tinging.

"Really?" Ginny ran over to him, to see what he'd prepared. On the oven top Harry had balanced a baking tray he'd just pulled out of the oven, upon which rested a charred cylindrical shape coated in a sticky green mush.

"It's supposed to be a cake," Harry shrugged sheepishly as Ginny inspected it, her smile widening.

"Oh, Harry!" Ginny cried and flung her arms around him. "It's lovely!"

Harry, caught off quard, stumbled backwards and set her back onto her feet. "It isn't," Harry muttered. "It's supposed to be golden and light, with perfect symmetric icing and Quidditch themed decorations and…"

"You're rambling, honey. It's lovely, honest. And anyway, what's it for?" Ginny said, looking up at him quizzically.

"Do I have to have an excuse for every time I want to bake you a cake?" Harry asked, dusting down his apron.

"Well, of course not, but I was wondering if…" Ginny smiled. "I love you."

Harry beamed at her. "I love you too. Would you like a slice of cake? Although, I'm not exactly sure about whether or not it is edible- so perhaps toast would be..."

"Definitely," Ginny said without hesitation, and Harry rushed to cut her a slice. He plated them up while Ginny set the kettle boiling and they sat down together at the table to eat, Ginny devouring hers as if it was the nicest thing she'd ever tasted. "Another slice?" she asked as Harry poured the tea.

He raised a sceptical eyebrow. "Ginny, it's disgusting." He had taken one bite and pushed the plate firmly away, sipping his cup of hot tea to take the taste away.

"Not to me," Ginny insisted, getting up to cut herself another slice.

"Ginny, I forbid you to eat another slice," Harry said, coming over and taking the knife from her, lifting up the cake and dropping it in the bin with a clang.

"Thank Merlin for that," Ginny grinned, opening the bread bin and putting two slices of bread into the toaster. "Harry? Promise me something?"

Harry poked his head out of the fridge where he'd been rifling for butter. "Anything," he replied seriously.

"Promise me you'll leave baking cakes to me?" Ginny said, taking the butter from Harry.

Harry laughed. "I have a feeling that won't be very difficult to keep," he replied, sniffing appreciatively at the smell of the cooking toast.

END

A/N: Reviews are the only payment we recieve; go ahead and make me rich ;)