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professorspork · 3 years

Note

If you're accepting non-superhell prompts, I'd love to see a conversation between Nora and Emerald! I've been REALLY loving these microfics, I've subscribed to you on Ao3, I'll read whatever else you write

[Gahhh that’s so nice you’re so nice!! thanks for being patient on this one, finding my Nora took some doing]

It’s occurring to Emerald that she’s never had a close female friend before.

You say that like you’ve ever had any friends before, the voice in her head that sounds suspiciously like Mercury needles her, but she brushes it aside. Like—okay, yeah, she’ll concede the point when it comes to Cinder. In hindsight, whatever they’d had going on between them may have been... super intense... but it probably had never been friendship, in the usual definition. But she and Mercury were friends, no matter what the judgy little shitstain version of him who lives in her head has to say about it. They’d always gotten along. Told each other stuff. It’s not like there’s more to it than that, right?

It had always been like that. Been—instinctive somehow, with guys. Before Cinder, on the street, it was always the men who’d been easiest to manipulate; who would empty their pockets for a smile and a sob story. And then she and Merc had been two sides of the same coin for so long, and then... well, Hazel’d liked her enough to die for her, apparently. (Which—that’s a door that she keeps closed, thanks. She shuts it firmly again, now.) Oscar seems fond of her, in a sweet, uncomplicated sort of way that she really doesn’t know what to do with, seeing as he shares headspace with like a trillion year old man and the idea that anything to do with that kid could be “uncomplicated” is batshit. Ren vouched for her once, and then again, and now he keeps doing it, like it’s habit, like she should just be used to the fact that people are going to have her back, to ask her if she’s eaten, to turn to her with a raised eyebrow in conversation like her opinion would be constructive.

Anyway.

Now that she’s noticed the pattern, it seems like the kind of thing she should probably… work on, or whatever. And Nora seems like an obvious place for Emerald to start. They’ve been thrown in together a lot, lately, Emerald and Oscar expected to fill in the gaps of what’s left of the old JNPR by default. Not that they’ve ever really had a conversation about it—Emerald can’t think of the last time Nora said two words to her that weren’t combat warnings like “more Grimm coming” or “on your left,” but. That’s probably just because things have been tense. She remembers Nora being friendly, on the whole of it. Off-puttingly friendly, even, back at Beacon.

How hard could it be?

The answer, it turns out, is absurdly hard. Nora’s barely ever in the temporary barracks they’re all living out of, instead always checking on the refugees, going on supply runs over esoteric requests, volunteering for extra patrols. Emerald used to find that kind of dogged do-goodery gag-inducing, but now that she’s been the helping hand herself a few times, she’s starting to see the appeal. The way people look at you when you’ve been of service, it’s—nice. Really nice. But Nora works utterly thankless jobs, the kind most people don’t even notice, let alone appreciate. And when they have their insufferably long leadership meetings and they’re talking about distribution of resources or whatever, Nora’s a fierce debater—jumping in to advocate for the people from Mantle sometimes even before May can. As far as Emerald can tell, she does this stuff just because... she believes in it. Because it’s the right thing to do, and someone has to.

She can’t imagine what it would feel like, to have the attention of someone like that turned on her. She’s craved it from the wrong people for so long, but now that she has her pick of options... she’s letting herself actually want the right kind, for once. She thinks.

Which is all to say that largely through no fault of her own, Emerald unexpectedly finds herself sitting with a profound, fervent desire for Nora Valkyrie to think she’s cool.

She hates that.

Fighting with Nora is easy.

(—er. Alongside. Fighting alongside Nora is easy. Emerald’s done fighting with these people. Very done.)

It’s weird, because Emerald’s finding working with a full team to be a real adjustment. When battles get big enough to merit it, she’s used to keeping to the sidelines to use her Semblance for nefarious purposes, or, in a jam, used to having Mercury’s six—literally, because all the forward momentum from his feet-first style always left his back wide open. Figuring out where to put herself so that Oscar can use her shoulder as a fulcrum as he dodges, or trying to aim for the Grimm Ren isn’t already shooting (ugh)—it’s taking work.

But somehow, it’s not work for Nora. Nora seems to anticipate with perfect ease how Emerald will move or what she’ll be doing; Nora bobs and weaves around their ragtag little band with her war hammer like it’s breathing.

It doesn’t bother Emerald until it does, and she means to bring it up casually but there’s never a good time. So it just… stews, and stews, until she can’t keep it bottled up anymore.

Which means that instead of the earnest question she intends it to be, it comes out like this:

“Okay, seriously? It’s creepy how you do that.”

It’s just the two of them, plus the handful of dweeby Atlesian tech-types they’re escorting back from their foray installing some fancy hydro-filtration modules on the outskirts of the camp. And it’s not like Emerald had felt outmatched by the half-dozen Ravagers that had decided they looked like lunch—she can shoot Ravagers in her sleep, at this point—but still. The way Nora had moved around her, it was like they’d been fighting side by side for years.

Nora just cocks her head to the side. “Do what?” she asks, like she hadn’t just basically read Emerald’s mind in front of the water nerds.

Emerald does a complicated gesture with her hands, wrist over wrist, and then flicking two fingers—trying to evoke the way Nora had flipped over Emerald’s back and then kicked off, just trusting Emerald would reel her back in with a chain in midair before a Grimm could fly away with her sorry ass. “That.”

“Oh!” Nora laughs and rubs at the back of her neck, looking sheepish. “It’s nothing. I guess it’s just not a big deal for me? Like—I was there when Ren built StormFlower. The cables are newish, but we practiced so much back in Atlas… I dunno. It’s just reflex, when your weapons are so similar. Fighting with you, it’s almost like fighting with him. I don’t even have to think about it.”

Nora swallows, then, and makes a face Emerald can’t interpret—disappointed, maybe, or ashamed. Which: good. She probably should be, taking things for granted like that.

“Well—just—” Emerald’s not even sure what she wants to say. Ask, next time? Don’t? “You shouldn’t make assumptions. I’m not your boyfriend, okay?”

The venom she puts behind the word is directed more at herself than Nora—frustrated, again, that she’s put herself in the position of wanting so desperately to be liked.

Pathetic.

Nora just nods, looking glum.

“Yeah,” she murmurs, cheeks pulling in a bitter smile. “You’d think I’d be able to keep that one straight, huh?”

She says it with such pointed irony that for a second Emerald wonders if she’d gotten it wrong somehow, but like—Nora and Ren are a thing, right? That’s—everyone knows that.

“Hey, what—?”

“Let’s just go,” Nora says, and Emerald automatically falls into line behind her.

They make the rest of the walk back in silence.

Sometimes at night, when she can’t sleep, Emerald likes to climb up to the roof of the barracks and look out over the refugee camp.

It’s—peaceful, is all. A good reminder of where she is; how far she’s come. The night sky in Vacuo has more stars than she’s ever seen, and being able to watch over all these people who have somehow become her responsibility… well.

A part of her will always be standing on the rooftop at Beacon, looking down on pure chaos as a queasy, frightened sensation twists in her gut and its noxious voice whispers you did this, you did this, you did this. What did you think was going to happen, you stupid little girl? You don’t get to feel sorry for it now.

But she does.

Weird how the only thing that’s helped is actually doing something about it.

She hears a scuffling noise over her shoulder, and she’s got Thief’s Respite drawn and ready before she can even really register what she’s heard. She relaxes when she sees it’s Nora at the other end of the barrels, unarmed and hands raised—a funny little smile on her face, like yeah, fair enough, I should have known better than to try and sneak up.

“Just me,” she says, unnecessarily.

Emerald holsters her guns. “Can I help you?” she asks, and—what is it about her voice, that makes sentences that would be nice if any other human said them come out straight-up hostile?

Nora shrugs, hands dropping to her sides. “I was hoping we could talk; I figured you’d come up here if I waited long enough.”

Well, see—what kind of lesson is she supposed to take from that? She’s been hoping for Nora to talk to her for weeks, and acting like a bitch is the thing that gets her what she wants? Good guys are supposed to know better.

And there’s the way she said it, too. Like everyone knows Emerald comes up here to brood; like it’s a big open secret. The knowledge sits uncomfortably in her stomach, makes her feel watched. Even now, even here, she can’t get a moment alone. Not really.

“What, so you’re spying on me now?”

Nora’s eyes narrow. “I have a pretty bad track record when it comes to losing people. Makes a girl want to put in a little hustle when it comes to keeping tabs on her friends.”

And Emerald would snark at that, or maybe apologize, or something, only—

Nora thinks they’re friends?

“Well, take a seat, I guess,” she mumbles, scooching to the side as though she needs to make room on the massive, empty roof.

Nora walks over and joins Emerald on the asphalt, letting her legs dangle over the edge. Seemingly unsure of where to start, she stares at her hands. Emerald stares too, but her eyes can’t help but wander—tracing the way scars, silvery in the moonlight, spiderweb up Nora’s bare wrists and forearms to fetter her shoulders, clavicle, neck. Like cracks in a pane of glass, right before it shatters.

(Only that’s not it at all, is it? It’s not a sign of weakness, but a warning of strength. I care this much, her scars announce to the word. You wanna try me?

Hazel’s arms always looked like that.)

Emerald doesn’t want to be the one to break the silence, sure that whatever she’d say would be incredibly stupid.

Luckily, Nora has no such qualms, and opens with: “I really admire you, you know?”

Emerald stares, jaw slack, certain she’s heard wrong. “I—what?” She’d say something defensive, like yeah right or you don’t have to make fun of me, only Nora’s eyes are so wide and so guileless they don’t leave any room for argument.

“I mean it,” Nora adds. “I know we don’t know all that much about each other, but… here’s what I do know: I can’t remember a time I saw you without Mercury right behind. Just like me’n Ren. And the way you fought for Cinder…” Nora smiles a sad, private little smile. “You don’t fight like that unless it’s personal; unless someone means something to you. Just like me’n Ren. And now you’re here. All on your own. And you didn’t have to be. That’s—don’t you think that’s crazy brave? I sure do.”

Of course she fucking doesn’t. Crazy brave would have been walking away the first, tenth, hundredth time she had a flash of panic about what she was doing. Or, better yet, doing something about it. Crazy brave is taking thirty thousand volts to get to your friends; it’s flooding your veins with pure crystalline power and saying Go, I’m doing what Gretchen would have done, it’s—

She closes that door.

“It’s not like I really had a choice,” she sighs, dodging the question.

“Oh, you know that’s not true,” Nora scoffs dismissively, tilting sideways to nudge Emerald with her shoulder.

And Emerald jolts, because—look, it’s not like no one touches her. They have to manhandle each other all the time in battle, and… and Oscar gives her high fives sometimes, which makes her embarrassingly pleased. But what Nora’s offering now, that kind of buddy-buddy casual contact…

… it’s been a while, is all.

“So, why did you want to talk to me?” Emerald asks, overwhelmed and suddenly desperate to find a way to get this conversation over with. She feels like she’s sprinted five miles; like she’s had the crap kicked out of her and she has to go somewhere to lick her wounds. Too much, too fast.

Nora laughs—a chuffing, cynical noise that doesn’t sound at all like her. “Looking for pointers? See, I’m trying this thing where I do things on my own, but I just—I suck at it. Like today; you saw. Even when I’m not with Ren, all I do is… is act exactly the same way I do when I’m with Ren. Like I literally don’t know how to exist without him, whether he’s actually there or not. And I know that’s not fair to anyone; I didn’t mean to treat you like—” She shakes her head, biting her lip. “You’re not just some stand-in. It’s not you at all. I’m just—broken, or something. One trick pony.”

“No, hey—”

“But you figured it out,” she barrels on, which is good, because Emerald doesn’t actually have a clue what she would have said there. “You don’t have anyone and somehow you’re just, like—good to go!” Nora says it cheerily, like it’s a compliment, but has the grace to balk a little when she hears how it sounds. “…sorry. That’s—sorry.”

Emerald shrugs, drawing her knees to her chest and resting her chin there. She feels like an idiot; building it up for weeks like spending time with Nora would solve all her problems when, surprise surprise, Nora’s just as fucked up as she is.

“Hate to disappoint you, but I don’t have any hot tips,” she mutters into the crooks of her elbows. “I don’t have a clue what I’m doing. Like—you want to know the really sad part? I was just following your lead.”

“My…?” Nora can’t even finish repeating it, which: Emerald can’t blame her. It’s so dumb. “Huh?”

“Come on. You know.”

“I don’t,” Nora says, voice thick with exhaustion. Like she’s sick of herself. “Ask anyone—I’m not the brains of the operation.”

Hearing Nora talk about herself that way makes Emerald’s chest feel tight; like her ribs have locked in place so her lungs can’t expand. She doesn’t know how to explain it; not without sounding like a starry-eyed fangirl or a moron with a crush and that’s not what this—it’s only that—

She chooses to start a different way.

“You wanna know why I switched sides? Like, really why?”

Nora softens, and reaches out to touch the back of Emerald’s left hand, where it dangles over her knee. “Sure,” she says, but Emerald barely hears it; it’s taking all of her concentration not to clench her fist or pull away in response.

“I overheard Oscar—or, Ozpin, I guess, I don’t know—talking to Hazel about Salem, about her goals. And… listen. No one joins under Salem because they’re trying to kill the world, okay? I mean, no one but Tyrian, anyway. We were all just trying to… find ways to get by. And when Cinder found me, she—” Emerald swallows, hard. This cuts too deep, too close. It’s not something she can just say. “I wasn’t trying to be some big villain, or something. I was just—looking out for the people who were looking out for me. And why wouldn’t I? No one else ever seemed to think I was worth it.”

“Of course you are,” Nora cuts in, quiet but vehement. “Everyone is.”

“See, the worst part is that you mean that when you say it,” Emerald grumbles, scrubbing at her face until smears of color kaleidoscope behind her closed eyes. “I figured people like you didn’t exist, and then Cinder and Merc were glad to prove me right, and—I let them. You know? And maybe if I’d just held out a little longer…”

“You’re not the only one here who’s ashamed of her past. Harriet tried to blow up Mantle, like, a month ago.”

“That’s not—forget that. I’m talking about you. Nora.” It’s the first time she’s ever said her name like that—addressing her, in conversation. It feels… astonishingly intimate, for so small a thing. Emerald powers past it. “Every day, I see you do something ridiculous, like double back on a patrol because you forgot you promised some kid a candy bar, or something, and that—matters. To me. It’s so stupid, but it’s not, because… argh! I want—it’s—” She tries to get her mouth to form the words, that’s the kind of person I want to be, but they stop in her throat.

Still, Nora seems to get the message. Her eyes seem suspiciously shiny for a moment—but when she blinks, it’s gone. “I… thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Emerald grumbles. Saying it like she means it: seriously. Don’t mention it.

“I understand what you mean, though. For years, the only person who looked out for me was Ren. And if he’d said…” Nora trails off, then, cocking her head to the side as she works through something. “Huh.”

“What?”

“Nothing, just. I remembered something. I was about to say that if Ren told me the only way for us to get by was a life of crime, or something, I would’ve taken his word for it, but—the opposite happened. We decided to enroll at Beacon. And that wasn’t his idea; it was mine. I always wanted to be a Huntress. To… to be the one strong enough to help people, instead of always needing the help. He wasn’t sure if we would make it, but I was. We were together, right? How could we lose?” She chuckles, a little, shaking her head at herself. “Get a load of that. He followed me.”

They smile at each other, then. Like they’ve figured out something profound. Maybe Nora has; Emerald hopes so.

“I’m glad you’re here, Emerald,” Nora says, and—there it is again. The frisson of electricity that comes with being referred to by name.

Of course, then Emerald ruins it by blurting out:

“Of course you are, all your other friends are dead.”

Which—“Fuck!” she sputters, because she didn’t mean to say that. What is wrong with her? “Sorry! Sorry.”

Nora only grins at her, feral and incisive. “Yeah, well. Yours are evil, so. Pick your poison. At least I’m proud of mine.”

Touché.

“Still glad I’m here?” Emerald jeers, because her first instinct is still to press on the bruise to see how much it hurts.

Nora laughs, and gets to her feet. “Believe it or not, yes. If putting your foot in your mouth was all it took to get booted from Hero Club, I’d have been kicked out a long time ago.” She reaches down to offer Emerald a hand; Emerald takes it, letting Nora pull her to standing. “Now go and get some rest, huh? None of us can ever sleep when you’re up here thinking so loud.”

“That an order?”

“Advice. Friends give it, from time to time.”

And—yeah. Maybe they do.

#typeoneninja #emerald sustrai #nora valkyrie #rwby #emerald and nora #fic what i wrote

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dumblydork · 3 years

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Wasn't expecting to be back as a writer so soon but I just absolutely CANNOT get enough of writing headcanons and AUs and JUST BEAR WITH ME OKAY

Also I feel like this is super long but it might not be idk

Some more Hinny, with a bit of Romione! So this one is set in the modern magical world. Hope you enjoy! And don't forget, if you have absolutely ANY Hinny headcanons you'd want to see written, please drop me a message or an ask anytime and I'll do my best to write one 3>

"This class just CANNOT get any worse." Ron muttered, drawing lazy lines with his pen on the History of Magic textbook they were reading.

"We literally live in 2020, do we really HAVE to study all this old age crap?" He continued, now shifting to drawing circles as the teacher droned on.

Harry for one, wasn't listening to the professor (though he did vaguely hear him mention 'Goblin War' but that was about it) and neither to Ron. Harry was busy staring out of the window onto the busy streets of London below their high classroom, thinking about a certain redhead.

A certain redhead who also happened his best friend's sister.

"Hi!" Hermione's voice came in an excited whisper as she started taking out her textbook, the dull grey of it made slightly happy with all the colourful muggle stickers (once affronted, she had told Harry that they were called 'Post Its' but Harry just could never bother with the name), full of notes and extra bits. Hermione was careful not to let the professor know that she was suddenly here, a thought which hit Harry when Ron exclaimed almost loudly before Hermione kicked his foot under the table to shut him up.

"I swear to Godric you weren't here literally a minute ago how- Harry?" Ron wondered, calling his best friend.

"Yes it's very odd Ron." Harry almost sighed, back to his brooding. Hermione was doing weird things always- it was nothing new.

"Please be like Harry and stop looking so surprised. Let me focus." Hermione sneered at Ron and whipped out her pencil, furiously noting down from the board whatever the professor had been droning on about for the past 45 minutes.

"And that, is all on the Goblin War of 1785 today. Make sure you finish your homework- remember, 4 pages on the magical strategies used by the two goblin sides to win the war. I need it handed in on Monday. Class dismissed." The professor walked out with his nose in the air, as if he had imparted the knowledge of a lifetime in one single lesson. He waved a lazy hand at the board which wiped off all the notes, releasing a few cries from the back where some kids were still making notes.

"Thank Godric that's over!" Ron could almost cry. Harry was back to paying attention, especially after Hermione slapped his hand. "Earth calling whatever planet Harry Potter is on!" She laughed. The three of them got up and walked out into the corridor.

"What lesson do we have next?" Harry asked absentmindedly.

"What's up with you today? You've been like this since we returned from the Burrow well over a week ago." Ron said thoughtfully, an arm slung carelessly around Hermione's shoulder, who was surprisingly okay with it.

Harry snapped back to reality. If Ron found out, it would be Harry's head and nothing else.

"And what about the two of you? Care to explain," Harry looked at the Ron's arm, "whatever this is? You two have been just finding ways for touching each other, don't think I haven't noticed." Harry finished with a whistle, knowing this was the nerve he had hit. He almost grinned to himself.

"That," Hermione shrug off the arm around her, blushing furiously, "is just two friends being friendly." She finished, but there was a considerable change in the pitch of her voice.

"Yes yes whatever." Harry flicked a lazy hand at the two, knowing fully well they had gotten up to something in the Burrow which was only between the two of them.

The trio had reached the cafeteria where they sat down on one of the empty benches, having half hour free before moving on to Harry's most despised class- Chemistry, or Potions as it was called in the older ages.

Harry let his thoughts move back to the Burrow (courtesy this couple who were now sitting with their sides practically touching). The Burrow was Ron's house, and the trio's favourite hangout. They were there for the summer break, which had ended a week ago, but the memories were still as old as yesterday.

"Oh please, I will kick your ass at Quidditch." Ginny, Ron's younger sister and the youngest Weasley piped, her fiery red hair pulled back into a ponytail.

Quidditch was the one thing Harry really enjoyed- it was rare to have Quidditch matches in school now with so much course load, so these summers were what he lived for.

Particularly this one summer where Ginny had turned up looking just gorgeous, something Harry had failed to notice in the 6 years he had known her. It wasn't as if she wasn't gorgeous before- it just struck him differently this time. Maybe it was the heat. Maybe it was the fact that she could make Harry laugh almost always. She was not only gorgeous- Ginny had developed a sense of humour and sarcasm quite unlike her brothers- they were fond of practical jokes, whereas Ginny was more of the sharp tongued type who could make an entire room laugh without as much as waving a hand. And it was absolutely fabulous. Harry had found himself staring at her practically everyday of summer since he came to the Burrow three months ago.

The way she tied her hair up, or how she bit her lip when exasperated with her Math homework and the way her lips opened slowly first when she laughed. The slight, barely perceptible crook in her teeth and the generous sprinkling of freckles all across her face. It was all suddenly very endearing to Harry.

And hence, midway through his last week at the Burrow, Harry had come to the conclusion that he had started fancying Ginevra Weasley, his best friend Ronald Weasley's younger sister. Not to mention practically Hermione's best friend, despite being an year younger.

So that was why Harry was barely able to keep his impulses in check when he saw Ginny in her Quidditch outfit, wearing a red and gold jersey with cream coloured bottoms. But when he thought of how he could have his ears boxed in by Ron, he could very much focus back on the match and not on a heart-achingly stunning redhead.

"Language, Ginny. This girl," Ron's mom, Molly, muttered under her breath, currently putting up laundry by swishing her wand back and forth. All of the Weasley siblings were back home at the Burrow, except for Percy and Bill, who were both busy working.

"Sorry mom! As I was saying Harry, I will definitely kick your bottom in this match." Ginny corrected herself.

"Please, we shall see." Lately it was getting increasingly difficult for him to produce coherent responses in front of the woman he had come to consider as practically a sarcastic goddess. But he was proud of this response- he should continue thinking about Ron's punches.

"Okay, positions, and go!" Harry heard Arthur, Ron's father say and the match began in earnest. Hermione was sitting this one down with a novel, but at the moment was preparing a jug of lemonade the Muggle way.

Ron and Harry were one team, whereas Ginny, George and Fred were another. The game lasted for a good 40 minutes before Harry and Ron won the game by obtaining the 'snitch' (which was actually just an enchanted flying ball, kindly given to them by Arthur who had an obsession for all things Muggle).

"What happened to all that talk of kicking ass, huh?" Harry laughed, almost falling into one of the reclining chairs. Molly was handing out cool glasses of lemonade. "I think mine needs more ice." Harry said, sipping from his glass.

"Oh I totally forgot the ice! My wand is in the kitchen though." She said sheepishly, not wanting to give up her spot on the recliner. Or rather not wanting to get up from her spot next to Ron, who had decided to perch himself on Hermione's recliner despite there being an extra empty one.

"That's okay, I'll get some myself." He grinned. "I'll come too- I need to change out of this." Ginny added. They walked back inside the Burrow which was empty, with the entire family outside in the garden.

Harry waved his wand which was lying on the kitchen counter into a bowl and ice appeared, shining in the sunlight but not melting. Magic.

He added a few to his glass and leaned on the counter, sipping lazily on the drink. It was good to be away from the noise for a minute. Ginny reappeared downstairs, having changed into a pair of shorts and a t-shirt and unholy thoughts came rushing back into Harry's brain.

"I'll get some ice too, now that I'm here." Ginny took out an empty glass and filled it with ice, presumably wanting to fill it with lemonade later. But the way she took the ice gave Harry goosebumps- she leant across him instead of asking him to move and picked a few pieces of ice from behind him. Harry was frozen in his place- Ginny made no move whatsoever to stand behind. She stood inches away from Harry, just a few centimetres shorter than him.

"Oh for goodness sakes Harry, kiss me already." She rolled her eyes but the tip of her ears went red.

"What?" Harry spluttered- it was something he had been wanting to do since the start of summer but putting it into words stunned him of sorts. Was he THAT readable?

"Don't think I haven't seen the way you've looked at me all summer, Harry. It's not that difficult to know that you fancy me. A lot. And just so you know, I do too. A lot. Have done so since Ron introduced us.* She whispered, but stepped back after her confession.

Harry was still stunned, but could anyway notice the distance she had put, now slightly unsure after her brazenness. She still stared at him, her lips shaped into an imperceptible 'O', begging to be kissed. So that's what Harry did- he pulled Ginny back towards him by her waist and placed his lips on hers, almost tasting sunlight but with cherry swirled in it. His hands remained at her waist but Ginny moved hers to lock around Harry's neck, slowly playing with the curls at his nape. She smiled into the kiss, parting her lips were slightly, just so Harry could taste her; it was sinful but decadent. Very much like a good bar of chocolate. More than good. An absolutely unbelievable bar of chocolate.

When they finally pulled back after what could have been a lifetime, or an eternity, or a few seconds, Ginny grinned at Harry. "Do you not have anything to say?" She stood there's suddenly a bit shy, with her arms still around Harry's neck.

"You said all of it for me. I do fancy you- maybe way too much." He said, feeling as if Ginny's brazen confidence was transferred into his veins.

"That's a relief, because I might or might not have been looking to get you to kiss me." She said, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

"You what?" Harry stared at her incredulously, before breaking out into a wide smile.

"Don't worry, the bit about me fancying you is real. Have done so since I was 10." She added seriously.

"So are we a thing now?" Harry raised an eyebrow, quite enjoying the small circles he was making on Ginny's side.

"Keep dreaming on, Potter." She removed her hands from around his neck and disappeared like she had reappeared after changing, what felt like ages ago. Harry smiled to himself before walking outside again, his lemonade glass forgotten.

---

"Really Harry, one would think you're in love the way you're zoned out." Ron stared at him, as Harry snapped back into the real world.

"Huh? Oh yeah." He agreed absent mindedly, still reeling a bit from that summer afternoon.

"You're in love?" Hermione asked, an eyebrow raised as she looked up from what looked like homework.

"Forget me, but you do seem to be." Harry glanced at her notebook, which had R+H scribbled messily on the margins. He grinned as Hermione and Ron blushed furiously.

"Okay fine, me and Ron might have kissed at the Burrow." Hermione said, snapping her book shut as Ron stared at her longingly.

"How interesting, because me and Harry did something similar." Ginny suddenly appeared from behind and sat beside Harry, pressing her lips to his cheek.

The two boys stared back and forth. Ron's eyes widened but returned to their normal size, as Ron slung an arm around Hermione again, except this time she actually leaned into him.

"What? Is happening?" Harry looked around, first at the couple in front of him and then at Ginny. This was all extremely confusing.

"Did you think you were the only observant human to ever exist? Hermione Granger is my girlfriend, Harry. Nothing escapes her. Not when one of her best friends kisses another one of her best friends." Ron laughed.

"Wait so you're not mad?" Harry was still shaken. Was his worrying all a waste? If he'd known, he could have spent more time with Ginny, locked behind doors, his lips on hers-

"Why would I be? I'd rather Ginny end up with you rather than some other git from school." Ron's voice cut into his thoughts breezily.

"Oh. Okay." Harry settled before smiling at Ginny and weaving his hand through hers.

They sat in silence for a few moments before Harry's eyes widened.

"Wait. Hermione Granger is your girlfriend?!" The typical Potter late realisation. The three people around him laughed heartily before Harry joined in, shooting Ginny an endearing look, making the tips of her ears turn red.

#hinny au #harry potter #ginny weasley #harry potter headcanon #harry x ginny #hinny headcanon #hinny #headcanon #school #romione #ron x hermione

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