#fluffy!!!!!

The look was one he learned to recognize first in the dim light of their room in their Birmingham flat. She'd look at him from whatever position they'd ended up in, breathing heavy, eyes blazing, anticipation written across her face. It was captivating and Harry would watch mesmerized, caught in the snare of her beautiful face.

The first time she looked at him like that outside of their flat was at a party at the Burrow. He'd been on assignment for a full two weeks and Ginny had been training overtime for Quidditch finals and they'd finally caught each other just in time for the Weasley get together. Her stare increased his heart rate and Harry had happily followed Gin's lie about a team meeting first thing in the morning. They'd barely made it in the flat building before he'd pressed her against the wall in the corridor because he had to taste her, to feel her under his hands. He had to hear her voice the way only he could pull from her, feel her need him the way he needs her.

The look came out of the house pretty frequently after that.

In this particular instance, they're in the supermarket. They noticed several staples lacking in their pantry and decided to step out and grab what they needed. But the look combined with her hand coming to rest in the back pocket of his jeans leaves Harry tempted to go without the items in their trolley in exchange for finding some privacy.

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He does this thing to her, and Ginny doesn't know how he manages it.

Harry can make her brain pull forward her memories, specific memories, memories of them.

The first times were actually her learning him, what he liked, what he didn't, and noticing what had stayed the same from her fifth year and what had changed. But each memory brought the emotions with them. The way she felt when he kissed her, when he held her, when he touched her skin, the way her breath always caught in her chest.

She can still remember the first time he did it to her away from the intimacy of their bedroom. They'd been at the Burrow, and he'd stepped behind her to join her conversation with George. His breath had wafted down her neck and she'd been instantly transported to a lazy morning where she went to grab the milk for her tea and ended up with Harry behind her and his arms starting around her waist before sliding up as he kissed down her neck. The party at the Burrow had ceased to matter as that memory flooded her and ignited her emotions. Ginny got them home just as quickly as she could. He started pulling out her memories when they were away from home frequently after that experience.

Like right now, it's a mix of things. Harry's voice was low to keep Muggles from overhearing too much as he told her about his case, low like when he'd whisper to her what he wanted as they lay intertwined on their bed. His hair at the nape of his neck is getting just a bit longer, he probably already has the haircut penciled in, but all Ginny can think of is the last couple days of their honeymoon when that same length had become her favorite place for her fingers to play while he kissed down her chest. And just now, he reached around her for something on their list and his hand had slid around her lower back, the same way it did when he wanted to pull her close and let his hands explore her skin.

She doesn't know how he does this, but he can get her from zero to one hundred with just the right touch, the right words, his freaking breathing even, can all pull forward her memories of being revved like his Quattro. And she swears he knows it too, because every time he does it, he always helps her find a way to get them their privacy, someplace they can make new memories, memories that will pull her right back to moments like this, where everything floods her and all she wants is to feel it all over again, to feel him and the way only he can hold her, touch her, kiss her.