“Gin? Who’s been wearing my shoes?” Harry frowned. His beat up sneakers were beat up, but they weren’t dirty.
But now, with grass stains and dirt covering them, it was obvious somebody had either decided to give them a mud bath, or had been wearing them.
From her place on the couch, Ginny merely spared him a glance.
She tsked and waved him off. “You must’ve went sleepwalking in them.”
“Oh, right. Because after 25 years of living I’d start sleepwalking in the garden now,” Harry retorted. He hated when she’d try to pretend.
She shrugged and flipped her hair to one side, revealing love bites and hickeys galore, clearly with varying ages.
He closed his eyes and counted to 10.
Some might call him uxorious. Others might call him a cuck. Truth be told, he just didn’t care.
“Where’s my wand, Gin? I need to get to work,” Harry sighed frustratedly, turning the house upside down.
He threw the pillows off of the couch, undid the throw, and shoved his fingers in between the cracks. Nothing.
“Seriously, Harry? It’s in your new case,” Ginny explained patiently, emerging from the kitchen with said case seconds later. “He polished it for you. Isn’t that nice?”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Of course he did.”
He loved his wife. He didn’t like that she was seeing other people. But he had to admit, she did have good taste.
It was like being killed with kindness.
Harry spat the blood out of his mouth and wiped the rest away, slowly gathering his bearings. He wasn’t going to give up that easily, he just needed a minute.
He hadn’t meant to end up in a 1v5 confrontation with those illegal artifacts dealers that he’d been pursuing at work, but it just happened.
It was annoying. They kept patching each other up and attacking in pairs.
He went to get up, and prepared for another kick to the back of the head. It never came.
Instead, there were multiple grunts and surprised shouts, and he looked up to see none other than him fending off the attackers.
It was a valiant and formidable effort, but just like Harry, he couldn’t take on all of them himself.
Quickly getting over his initial shock and what the fuck, he got to his feet, and together they got it all under wraps.
“Alright?” His wife’s paramour asked casually. As if he wasn’t who he was.
Harry frowned. He couldn’t believe his life. “Peachy.”
He clapped him on the back. “Good. Ginny would be mad at me if you didn’t make it home.” And then he laughed.
Harry couldn’t help a chuckle or two himself, because just what was so funny?
“About Neville…” Harry started one day, trying to gauge Ginny’s reaction.
She didn’t even try to act surprised. Somewhere along the way, she must’ve figured that they’d reached a mutual agreement that Neville was there to stay.
“He’s great, isn’t he? A real beast in bed… it’s always the quiet ones.”
Harry cleared his throat. “I guess I can see why you like him, ignoring the fact he’s fucking my wife.”
“Right?” Ginny agreed, paying the latter part of his sentence no mind.
“Bye, Harry,” Neville called from the kitchen.
Harry slipped his shoes on quickly, rushing to get out the door. He was running a bit behind. “Bye, Nev.”
Rushed footfall sounded behind him. “Almost forgot your lunch!”
Turning around with a sigh of relief and a grateful smile, Harry accepted the bagged lunch, presumably packed by the man himself, and nodded. “Thank you.”
“Of course,” Neville smiled. “I picked the vegetables fresh from your garden!”
Your garden. Because Neville was just a frequent guest in Harry’s house.
Harry felt his smile dim a little.
Behind Neville, Ginny walked out of the bedroom — the one he didn’t share with her last night because Neville was in it, and pulled her robe tighter around her. She had nothing on under it.
“See you later, Harry,” She said casually, and walked across the hall into the bedroom without a second glance.
Harry climbed into the floo, smile now completely wiped from his face.
He disappeared off to work, the last thing he saw being Neville’s jovial face. And Neville’s shoes by the door. And Neville’s plants on the coffee table. And… were those his shoes Neville had on?