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#does ginny like chocolate
cherry-pop-elf · 4 months
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BAKING WITH THE WEASLEY SIBLINGS
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William ‘Bill’
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Since he is the eldest, he had to do a lot of cooking with his parents. He was a victim of ‘third parent’ syndrome. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t find comfort in baking. It still fills a void in his heart when cooking and baking. His favorite thing to make, with you, is something he learned in Egypt. Baklava. It’s super airy, and the right amount of sweet. Given being partially turned has made his senses heighten, it makes for a good treat to share with you and his siblings. It’s nice to do normal things, when your life is so abnormal. He also learned to make some mean meat pies. Just know not to ask a slice on the full moon. That shit is raw. Thats what you get for dating a curse breaking werewolf. Eh. More protein never hurts in a diet, most of the time
Charlie
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As the second oldest, he also had to do a lot of baking as well. There is also the fact that being a Dragonologist has left him fending for himself in the wild. So he’s had to get pretty creative if he wants something sweet. Hey. He’s a Weasley. They are famous for being creative. A treat he enjoys is Romanian Dessert Salami. Though, often times he uses the term liberally and often makes a rather fruity bread roll instead. Gotta use what ya got! Also, hope you are prepared to see him using his wand a lot for cooking. Don’t have much when chasing dragons. It is rather fascinating to learn how to make desserts from so little. Your little adventure man
Percy
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Being the third child, you would think he wouldn’t be as responsible as his older siblings. You are wrong. The moment the two older brothers were out the door, it was his turn. Desserts were never a passion of his, so he’s not the best at it. But he won’t deny the fact he can make a mean pie. It’s a secret talent he has. You can count on him to make any pie your heart desires. He won’t say it out loud, but making pies is very therapeutic to him. He has a pie for each sibling even. Bill is meat, Charlie is mixed berries, Fred is Chocolate while George is Peanut butter, Ron is Pumpkin, and Ginny is Peach. Him? …..What was your favorite type of pie again~?
Fred
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Fred isn’t really much of a baker. He’s more of the cooking type. You are better off seeing him make breakfast, despite being a night owl, compared to making any desserts. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t find his loopholes. Like how Percy is great with pies, Fred is amazing with Bread. Fred Bread! As proxy, he has his siblings favorite bread types memorized. Bill likes dark chocolate types, Charlie likes anything with berries, Percy is rather boring with banana, he loves grape while George will like orange, Ron likes hers with some pumpkin, and Ginny is the cinnamon type. Expect plenty of fresh bread with him. He’s got you covered
George
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He IS the baker in the family. Who do you think brought up the idea of selling bake goods at WWW? He can, and will, bake ANYTHING! He has everyone’s favorite treats memorized. He is constantly handing out free samples to kids. He WILL find an excuse to bake. You want cookies? Hot and fresh from the oven. It’s three am and you want a cake? It’s now four am and you got a cake. He IS the baker. He loves to bake so much, and is always making sure the shop has fresh supply. If you can’t ever find him anywhere, follow your nose to the kitchen. He’s got something in the works. For someone!
Ron
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Like Fred, he’s not really a baker. He’s a cooker. Doesn’t mean he can’t make a dessert if he has to. He’s become pretty good at making tarts, custards, and puddings. Very much comfort food. Something he picked up again when going to school with Harry. Given, ya know, the Dursleys. He won’t lie, it was also a cheap way to flirt with Hermione without breaking his wallet. Funny thing is she was never one for such desserts. Now she can’t get enough. He makes those comfort foods with a lot of heart, and is willing to make them if you have a bad day. He does get a bit anxious when cooking around other people, but he warms up eventually.
Ginny
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Like Fred and Ron, she doesn’t really bake either. She was the baby of the family, after all. She does, however, like to make cookies for her team. There is something so nice about having a warm cookie after a cold rainy day of Quidditch practice. Helps that you convinced her to pick up the habit again. She likes to make cookies with fruit in them. To try and have them on the healthier side, given she’s an athlete. So a tart cookie is a good cookie to her. It’s simple, basic, and quick, but nothing wrong with that. A quickly made cookie, with love, is better than a drawn out dessert of labor. It’s also easy to blame her love of fruity desserts on Charlie. She’s the baby girl in an army of boys. She picked up some habits
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mxlfoydraco · 1 year
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What are the sweetest, most fluffy, most tender fic recs you have? Hurt/comfort préférable but anything works
I'm a major angst reader so our definitions of fluff may vary! I'm adding on to these lists: Fluff & Hogwarts Era Fluff
Save My Wonders by @unmistakablyoatmeal(21k)
Immediately chocolate assaulted Draco’s senses. Warm melted chocolate mixed with his mother’s roses and… something else. Something new. Freshly scrubbed skin and maybe a faint sheen of sweat. It was so familiar… And it only intensified when Potter came up behind him.
Two of Us by @sorrybutblog (5k)
The gang goes to a gay bar. Or: five times Harry accidentally pretended to be Draco’s boyfriend and one time Draco told him to put out or shut up.
All Things Go by @sorrybutblog (32k)
Draco’s back at Hogwarts by court order. Harry’s back for no particular reason at all. Some things change, some stay the same. Neither expects to spend eighth-year living in close quarters, playing rugby (poorly), staying up late, sneaking around, and finally figuring it all out.
Quick as a Flash of Lightning, Unhurried as Eternity by @onbeinganangel (10k)
Can you fall in love with someone by simply watching them fiercely love another version of yourself?
Knead by @jovialobservationanchor (83k)
This is not a story about Harry renovating Grimmauld Place. This is a story about coffee shops and brewpubs, about Ginny and Luna on a farm with creatures, about magical Oregon, coastal road trips, flying, friendship, and Draco Malfoy's lean arms.
the treehouse near primrose downs by @softlystarstruck (14k)
Draco and Harry have been roommates for years, so buying a magical house in the countryside shouldn’t be a big difference. But in between fresh loaves of bread and beds of wildflowers, things start to fall into place.
you bring me home by @softlystarstruck (35k)
Harry is happy. He has his cat cafe and his hobbies. He has his friends, and Dolly Parton, and a shirt with a cowboy frog on it. It’s all a man needs, really. He doesn’t need to obsess over a magic-less, anxious Draco Malfoy coming into his cafe after disappearing from the wizarding world years ago. He doesn’t. Not even if the cats like Malfoy. Not even if Malfoy is soft, and funny, and a little bit neurotic. No matter how much he wants to obsess.
With Great Yawns and Stretchings by @sugar-screw (22k)
The coffee is very good. Really. And the cats are so cute. That's why Harry goes so often.
I Think I Want to Marry You by @phdmama (6k)
5 times Harry Potter asks Draco Malfoy to marry him and Draco doesn't answer. And then the one time he does.
Meddling, Menswear, and Magic by @writcraft (18k)
Draco Malfoy is working in a job he hates and avoiding the magical world entirely, but he really is fine. When a bequest from Severus Snape brings Draco back to a much-changed magical world, he must find his place within it and navigate his growing attraction to Harry Potter in the process.
Constellations on your skin by @orange-peony (56k)
“I’m going to get my scars removed,” Draco announces on a rainy Wednesday afternoon. “Who are you seeing?” Blaise asks. “The best Healer out there,” Draco replies with a little shrug. “Harry Potter.”
Sweeten to Taste by @saintgarbanzo (51k)
It starts with Draco's buckwheat crepes with honeyed oranges. Or maybe it starts with his porridge with toasted walnuts and homemade apple butter. Or perhaps it starts with the cinnamon buns Draco made from scratch with mascarpone icing. Harry just knows he's hungry for more.
The Little Marauders Nursery and Day Care by @digthewriter (9k)
Harry Potter is the proud owner of The Little Marauders Nursery and Day Care and his favourite student is Scorpius Malfoy. Scorpius’s dad might be okay, too.
Sourdough by @academicdisasterfic (17k)
Draco writes romance novels and doesn't leave his apartment much. Harry bakes bread and sells it to Draco. Draco is quite weird. Harry might like that.
The Courting by the Pureblood Who Only Has Five Milligrams of Romantic Intelligence and Thinks He’s Real Smooth by @cibeewastaken (19k)
Draco could grab Potter and shove him into a stall before proceeding to suck his soul out of his dick, but secretly, deep down, in the part of Draco that he will never admit to anyone, he is (everyone pauses to shudder) a romantic. Potter is not someone Draco wants a one-off with. Potter is — Draco’s beloved! So Draco decides to boldly go where no one has gone before: to put himself through scrutiny; their friends’ teasing and pranks; unsound romantic advice from a house-elf; wearing pretty clothes; all to try and win Potter’s heart through courtship. (An unnamed ginger bastard can be heard yelling from afar: “This is actually a detailed guide on how not to court someone!”) But who cares about the opinions of redheads? Literally no one.
Nice Things by aideomai (22k)
The first thing that happened was Theodore Nott came back from France.
Thermodynamic Equilibrium by @dorthyanndrarry (5k)
Harry's far too hot. Draco's always cold. And somehow against all odds, together they create a perfect equilibrium.
Stay (With Me) by @dorthyanndrarry (6k)
Harry and Draco have been seeing each other casually, whenever they bumped into one another at Galas and Balls and other social events, always keeping one another at a careful distance. But one step forward seems to remove all space between them, sending them crashing together with an almost inevitable gravity.
If It Takes All Night by @tackytigerfic (10k)
It's not the first time Harry's been the victim of a botched curse (that's one of the reasons he doesn't like crowds), but he feels bad that Malfoy had to get caught up in it too. So they're bonded. That's ok, they just have to make sure to be touching at all time. No problem. Because Malfoy smells so nice, and has such lovely shiny hair, and his skin is so very warm. But this isn't going to be a problem for their friendship at all. Is it, Harry?
Espresso Patronum by @tasteofshapes (15k)
When Draco reappears five years after the war and opens a wildly popular coffee shop, Harry’s pretty sure that Draco’s Up to Something. He just has to prove it.
The Charm Conundrum by dysonrules (8k)
Harry misplaces an interesting "self-help" manual. Draco finds it and discovers some fascinating insights into Harry Potter.
Little Deaths and How to Avoid Them (or Draco Malfoy's Guide to Stop Dying and Start Living Instead) by @greaseonmymouth (96k)
Malfoy is way too interested in coroner reports for somebody who's definitely not looking for ways to die, Harry wants to be friends with him, and Ginny wants to break up with Harry. Features: Little League Quidditch, an abundance of bath bombs, happy endings, and gay robots in space.
Harry Potter’s biggest fan by @gnarf (9k)
Ever since Scorpius heard about Harry Potter for the first time from one of his friends, one could say that he was his biggest fan. So naturally, it would be the thing he needs to talk about while visiting his grandparents for Sunday dinner. Draco’s father could not hold back the comments on why he had to go through this again, and Scorpius understood just enough to know that his father actually knew Harry Potter in person. That’s when the pestering started. Not much later and Draco found himself face to face with Potter, all thanks to his son.
Sunseeker by @shiftylinguini (15k)
Harry is a struggling writer. Namely, he is struggling with: writing his next book, dealing with his agent, finding a decent tea strainer, fielding his friend's concern over the aforementioned book, and figuring out who the cat loitering in his garden belongs to. He also has a slight liking-Malfoy problem. Okay, he has a massive liking-Malfoy problem.
All Roads Lead Home by dracogotgame (14k)
Draco is strong-armed into spending the first Christmas after the War with the Weasleys. And Harry Potter.
Draco Malfoy Absolutely Does Not Need to Be Loved by Harry Bloody Potter by @nv-md (18k)
It’s not easy to be bonded to your childhood rival, turned fuckbuddy, who you also have extremely uncomfortable but repressed feelings for—just ask Draco Malfoy.
Nyctophilia by prolonged_autumn (107k)
Everyone's back for 8th year, and Harry and his friends seem determined to spend their last year in school running around at night, hyped up on coffee and alcohol and Honeydukes candy, doing all the childish things they didn't have the chance to do before. Draco watches as he's always watched: from afar, quiet and bitter and hopelessly in love. That is, until Pansy decides she's had quite enough of it.
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augustvandyne · 9 months
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OMG YOU WRITE OF GINNY AND GEORGIA! PLS IM BEGGING WRITE A MAX BAKER X FEM READER!
Sorry for the aggression… No one writes for her🥲
Maybe like R is Ginnys sister (different mom) but she never knew her mom bc she dropped her off at Zions w a note and a DNA test or something. Maybe she does online school bc she’s always travelling w Zion then she moves with him and goes over to see Ginny, Georgia and Austin bc Georgia was always basically her mom.
She then had her first day at school and meets Max and they both have gay panic and stutter bc yk gay.
Then later Ginny takes her to sit w her friends and Max is talking about this girl she ran into and swears she’s in love and R is just sitting next to Ginny on the end of the table waiting for her to notice she’s there. And she only notices when Ginny asks what the girl’s name was and Max is like, “CRAP! I WAS JUST RAMBLING AND NEVER ASKED HER NAME! SHE KNEW MINE BUT I WOULDN’T SHUT UP TO LEG HER SPEAK! Oh god🥲” and bangs her head on the lunch table and R is like, “My names y/n Miller btw” and Max just slowly lifts her head, and everyone is like ‘how did she not notice the person sitting right mf there! although very max’ then she’s like “I do enjoy the rambling though, it’s cute” then everyone is like ‘oh SHES the girl’ and start laughing at Max. R after saying this gets up and sees her friends from one of her classes and goes to max giving max her phone open on contacts so max can put in her number but she’s just broken. Abby snatches the phone and is like ‘sorry i think you broke her’ and outs in the number. R smirks and kisses Max’s cheek before going off with her other friends.
When she’s out of ear shot Max starts yelling at Ginny, “YOU NEVER TOLD ME YOU WERE RELATED TO A HOT, SAPPHIC MILK CHOCOLATE GODDESS😭 WTF GINNY! I LET UOU DATE MY BROTHER AND YOU DONT EVEN SAY ANYTHING ABOUT YOUR HOT SISTER!”
omg i actually love this. the aggression is very much needed! no one writes for our girl maxine.. she needs the love.
sorry this took me so long.. haha. don’t be afraid to request more. i promise not to take as long this time.
Gay Panic
When you found out you would be moving to Wellsbury for a while, you were through the roof excited.
You hadn’t seen Ginny, Georgia or Austin in a while, and you were beginning to miss your family! A few days after you’d arrived, your dad enrolled you in Wellsbury High School.
Ginny immediately introduced you to her friends. She introduced you to Abby, Norah, and a group of boys that you could care less about.
Your first class happened to be a drama class, where you met Maxine Baker. She drew you in with her vibrant colors and extroverted personality.
The teacher wanted to do an exercise to start out the class, in which the class paired up and acted out a scene of a play of their choice. Max loved the class, but she had no friends in it.
A new face had her intrigued and so she partnered with you.
You suggested Romeo and Juliet—because you can’t go wrong with it. Max stuttered and reluctantly agreed. She tried to get out that you should do the balcony scene, but it came out as a blubbering mess.
The first time you open your mouth, a similar things happen. Red tints your brown cheeks, as you make a fool of yourself.
Normally you can keep your cool around cute girls, but this girl is different. She’s confident and knows what she wants.
The two of you laugh off the stuttering and blushing Max grabs a book off the shelf so the two of you can act out the scene. You lean in close to her and can smell whatever perfume she decided to spray.
The close proximity has both of you blushing again.
Both of you mess up and stutter so much neither of you even finish the exercise before the teacher pulls everyone in to assign the work for the day.
The rest of your first morning is just as exciting. It’s followed by two other classes—art and study hall, where you meet some other girls. After study hall you follow Ginny to the cafeteria where you sit at a table filled with the same faces you saw this morning.
And Maxine.
You are surprised to see her at the table. But it makes sense. All the girls are more quiet than Max, which makes you believe she’s the leader.
Especially because she’s leading the conversation right now.
“So we are like acting the scene out, right, because I swear that our drama teacher hates me,” Max talks fast. “But anyway, we’re acting it out and I swear- I’m in love.”
“What happened to, uh, what’s her name?” Abby chews on a fry as she tries to come up with the name of the girl Max was all about the week before.
“Oh, I’m over her.”
“Already?” Norah barks out a laugh. “That was fast.”
Max glares at her.
“So this girl,” Brodie shrugs. “She hot or what?”
“Uh, gorgeous!” Max shakes her hands all around like she’s have a seizure. “She’s mixed, and kind of looks like Ginny. But she is the prettiest girl I’ve ever met. Like ever.”
“What was her name again?” Ginny rests her elbows on the table.
“Crap,” Max’s face falls. “I was rambling and stuttering and blushing so hard I forgot to ask her what her name was. I told her mine but I didn’t ask. Oh my God. I want to die now. I’m never going to speak to her again.”
As the girl bangs her head on the table, you reach your hand over Ginny and say, “I’m Y/N Miller, by the way.”
Abby’s mouth drops open and she laughs, “Max.. how did you not see her.”
Max is frozen in place. She isn’t blinking, talking, or breathing for that matter. She looks like she might cry.
“Um, are you okay?”
“Don’t worry, she does this all the time,” Ginny waves it off.
“What? Falls in love with girls she just meets?” You laugh awkwardly.
“Has gay panics,” Norah clarified.
“Ah,” You retreat your hand.
Jordan and Abby laugh at Max, whom is still frozen in place.
“Do you think if we nudge her she’ll tip over?” Abby jokes.
“Max, breathe,” Ginny places her hand on Max’s shoulder.
“Thank you for complimenting my looks,” You flash a bright smile. “And I enjoyed the rambling, it’s very cute.”
You see a few girls from your art class and get up to go say hi, stopping near Max, who then takes a deep breath and begins blinking again.
“Here,” you place your phone in her hand and she just blinks up at you. “Put your number in. Your cute. We should meet up some time.”
Abby leans across the table and puts the number in the contacts app, “I think you broke her.”
You smirk and grab your phone out of the redheads hand. You drop the phone into the back pocket of your jeans. Leaning down, you plop a kiss on Max’s cheek.
Max’s eyes widen and she waits for your to be out of earshot before grilling Ginny.
“Virginia Miller! How could you not tell me you were sisters with a hot, sapphic, greek god?!” Max starts freaking out. “What the F?! I let you date my brother and you gate-keep your beautifully gorgeous sister??”
Ginny just chuckles. “She has that effect on people.”
“You better text her,” Norah threatens. “Or I will.”
And Jordan doesn’t even protest.
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vroomian · 1 month
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actually maybe the reason Charlie makes the connection from 'yrz' to 'my uncle blue (what she called yrz as a child)' was because yrz, as the only actual responsible person Lucifer knows, was often roped into babysitting while the royal couple were busy or fighting.
i'm picturing yrz in full library demon get up and sitting at a cramped table with three-year-old charlie, having a very serious tea party. it's also important to me you know that yrz can change his height and his library demon form is the tallest. so he's folded in half, knees up to his chest, holding a plastic cup that's thimble-sized compared to him.
the fact that children love yrz hasn't changed, nor has his habit of treating them like small, unfinished people who should be Taught and Listened To Seriously. most of his patience actually goes towards children no matter how little he likes them lol.
also: yrz singning baby Charlie to sleep, of when she gets upset. maybe even the start of baby Charlie's lifelong love of music, coupled with lillith's canon beautiful voice? I'm picturing specifically Little Saphire's lullaby by Ginny Di (change saphire to ruby maybe?), if i were a fish by corook, riverboat shanty by emily axford. just cute sweet little songs.
and then later yrz is hanging out at the hotel and it's late enough that everyone else is asleep, but charlie wanders out (post-meeting adam) because she's worried about heaven. yrz makes her a hot chocolate, and they sit in quiet, and charlies like. why does this feel so familiar? yrz, who is reading a book, starts humming saphires's lullaby unconsciously. then it clicks and charlies like: "uncle blue????? Why are you short now?"
and yrz is like whoops, cats out of the bag lol. also rude. so charlie and lucifer are the only ones who know that yrz is also the library demon.
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starlingflight · 2 months
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A/N: I felt like chapter's 1&2 should go up together because of the nature of the fic. Future chapters will be posted with a little more of a gap.
She woke to the soft sound of Harry's breathing and his arm wrapped securely around her waist. Ginny lifted her head just enough to make out his face on the pillow beside her, visible in the dim morning light.
“Gin?” His eyes were still closed but his arm tightened around her, pulling her closer. “I had a horrible dream.”
She pressed her lips to the small frown that appeared between his brows, smoothing it. “So did I.”
He appeared to relax at the sound of her voice. The sweating and thrashing that she associated with Harry's worst nightmares, the ones that she'd not had to wake him from in the depths of night for quite some time, were blessedly absent.
She reached out, her fingertips tracing lightly over his face, able to move freely without the barrier of his glasses. He smiled as his eyes blinked open. “Hermione would say this is why you shouldn't eat a full box of chocolate cauldrons before bed.”
Ginny's grin was accompanied by a shrug. “It had to be done. It was my last night of freedom.”
At her own reminder of what the day – what the rest of the year – had in store for her, Ginny's eyes flicked to the alarm clock on Harry's bedside table. Her groan was muffled as her head fell despondently into the crook of Harry's neck. “I have to get up.”
Momentarily, Harry's arm tightened further around her, making it clear he found the suggestion of leaving the warmth of the bed and their embrace just as objectionable as she did. Then she felt him relax his grip. His lips brushed to the top of her head before he rolled away from her, taking the cover with him and leaving Ginny exposed to the cool morning air.
She gasped, the sudden drop in temperature all the more jarring for how perfectly cosy she'd been a moment before. But she managed to recover herself quickly, glaring as she sat up on the mattress.
“That was unforgivable.”
Harry's smile was not remotely apologetic. “I think a chaser for the England Squad needs to be able to handle things a bit more unexpected than that.”
Ginny was already up, leaping from the bed with all the grace her pre-season training had provided her. She grabbed her wand from the nightstand, tapping it threateningly against her palm. “... And what exactly does an Auror need to be able to handle?”
Read the rest of chapter two here.
Start from chapter one here.
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riddlemenott · 6 months
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fred weasly x f!reader
based on a request i got! i love fred so much.
it had been all summer since you’d seen fred, they went to egypt and you were stuck at home. of course you wrote back and fourth but it wasn’t the same, nothing was the same. you two had been dating for almost a year, and decided to keep it a secret to try and not make it too awkward between the group. “fred! george!” you pulled the twins into a hug the moment you stepped foot into the burrow. “love, how are you” fred whispered into your ear- still after all this time he made you blush. “ron, ginny, percy come here!” you pulled all of them into hugs before saying your thank you to molly and mr. weasly for letting you stay the next week before school. “you’re always welcome dear” molly always gave the best hugs, she made you feel welcome. you arrived a few days before harry and harmione, it being a ritual now to have all three of you stay with ron before school started.
“freddy, we have to be careful someone might see!” “i don’t care about that i wanna keep kissing you” fred laid kisses all over your face causing you to giggle. ron ran up the stairs, looking through the cracked door to see the sight infront of him. shocked was his only emotion at the time. why didn’t they tell me, he thought to himself. does george and ginny know? what about harmione and harry? you guys have been friends for years and you’re dating his older brother? he didn’t exactly want to expose your relationship you kept it secret for a reason but he had to find out if everyone else knew.
you knew something was up- the way ron was acting was suspicious to say the least, once harry and harmione showed up it started to go a bit more normal, you and the girls talking about boys except all you wanted was to talk about fred “it is bonkers you think my brother is cute, he’s weird mione” ginny giggled as you sat on the floor of her bedroom. “what about you y/n/n? who do you fancy” minoe asked as she took a bite of chocolate. “that’s confidential i tell you” you giggled as you thought of the boy right across the hall. “bloody hell just spit it out” ginny kept laughing as you refused to tell them your very secret crush. “you know ron mentioned something about you seeming very interested in fred” harmione said looking at ginny. “no way! to hell with that” you said as you got increasingly red in the cheeks. “don’t lie to us but if both of you fancy my brother i might just hex myself” ginny said as you got up from your spot “goodnight” you waved as you got under your blankets. how does ron know, you thought, i mean of course you still talk to fred while you’re at the burrow but not too flirtatious, that’s just how fred is right?
you slept terribly, stressing about the question harmione asked but you had to get yourself out of bed and ready to catch the train. you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off after you entered the compartment with ron, harry and harmione. ron was staring daggers into you, like you had done something terrible. “ronald you give me that look one more time and i swear i will make sure you puke frogs again” you scoffed at the red head infront of you “well maybe if you just split your little secret everything would be fine!” he raised his voice, harry looked in pure shock and harmione smacked him with her book. “out” she pointed to the door and with that ron walked out- leaving just the three of you in the compartment awkwardly.
“fred, george can i speak to you?” you whispered as you pulled them away from the rest of the gryffindor table. “ron knows” you were curt as you exited the great hall into the corridor. “knows what?” the twins asked in unison both confused. “he knows about us” you gestured towards fred. “oh” george said looking a little sad in your direction. “how about we just tell them darling?” fred asked sweetly, putting his hand on your shoulder. “merlin sometimes you are so dull” you said tapping the side of his head. “he’s already bloody mad you think this will fix it?” you asked crossing your arms. “love, you know how much i support you two and your decisions but i think you should tell ron” george smiled at the two of you. “alright let’s get it over with” you grabbed fred’s hand and walked back into the great hall. all the gryffindor stared into you. “I BLOODY KNEW IT! WHAT DID I SAY HARRY!” ron stood up and pointed. “AND YOU! MY BROTHER!” ron pointed at you as he stood up. “sorry?” you replied as you sat next to fred and harmione. “i’ve known for awhile” harmione whispered as ron kept going on and on about you and fred. “well i support you” harry said and nodded your way giving you two thumbs up. “finally i can do this in public” fred said before he pulled you into a passionate kiss right at the table. “YUCK” ron screamed.
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rewritingcanon · 1 year
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next gen characters and their favourite parent 🫣
victoire: fleur but maybe only by a margin (very close, bill should not take it personally that victoire just specifically admires fleur more because they are more similar in character, she really loves her dad)
dom: bill because he let her get tattoos before she was 18 and he will brush her hair in the morning when she’s too tired to do it herself
louis: fleur because their mother would never allow louis to leave the house looking ugly and they really appreciate that
molly: percy, because they are similar in person and when he gives her approval it just makes her feel more satisfied yknow
lucy: audrey because her mother lets her get away with more stuff than her dad does, so she feels more comfortable being goofy with her than her dad
fred: george because his love language is irritating people and george will just give the same energy back without any qualms
roxanne: angelina, she feels they have a greater understanding between them and she goes to her mother for advice more often
james: ginny, he is the definition of a momma’s boy who would always go soft on her
albus: ginny, even though he feels he’s more similar to harry, sometimes ginny just saying shit as it is gives him a rare sort of calm he appreciates
lily: harry, she loves making her dad interested in anything and everything shes interested in and he’s always genuinely listening to her
rose: no. she genuinely has no preference she loves her parents the same. she is very consistent in her love for them
hugo: contrary to rose, it honestly depends on the day. ron will sneak him toffee and hot chocolate late on a saturday evening and hugo will deem him the favourite parent, the next day hermione buys him a squishmallow and she is
teddy: …andromeda
scorpius: even though he would rather keel over than ever think of liking one parent more than the other… he was closer with astoria growing up (due to their likeness she could bond with him easier), but obviously as scorpius grows up he gets closer with his dad, and he’ll have more experiences with him than he ever had with his mother.
lysander: rolf because he takes lysander all over the world to pursue his interests in geology. rolf will be trying to tame some swedish serpent whilst lysander is inspecting the pebbles in its cave and thats a normal father-son bonding time for them
lorcan: luna. lorcan has been illustrating for the quibbler since he was 13 because luna genuinely doesnt believe there is any other artist that can perfectly mirror the complexity of peculiar fantastical creatures as her son (it’s literally a stick figure)
alice: neville. she’s a daddy’s girl who has her dad wrapped around her finger. i mean, he loves her so much that he forgives her for hating gardening
frank: hannah. she forces him to help her fold the laundry with her and he hates it, but he still loves her (forcing him to help her with her chores just so she can spend more time with him, i see you hannah)
delphi: voldemort 😻😻 (she needs therapy immediately)
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otakufimi · 2 months
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Re-watching Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. My thoughts:
In the train, the dementors attack more than one compartment surely, so imagine Remus giving chocolate to each compartment on his way to talk to the driver.
Also, Remus gives Harry chocolate after the Dementors attack because chocolate is known to increase serotonin, and serotonin is known to be the "happiness hormone".
In the professor's table Snape and Lupin sat next to each other, imagine Remus trying to be civil and Snape not having it. (Is that why he enjoys so much seeing Snape in drag, you know in the boggarts class, because he tried to put the past behind but Snape is still in the past?)
When Harry is learning the Patronus charm, Remus uses a boggart as a Dementor. If it's a boggart, why does it have the "powers" of a Dementor??
Harry fearing fear itself + people with anxiety fearing fear itself (I studied this)= Harry has anxiety
There are so many wordless and wandless spells in this movie, especially from Remus.
I know there's the theory that Fred and George saw Peter sleeping with Ron on the map, but, what if they never saw him because they only check out on their siblings (especifically the little ones, Ron and Ginny) if something happened to them. Like when Ginny when misssing, because she was trapped in the Chamber of Secrets.
The first thing that Remus does when he transforms is call his pack (Padfoot, Prongs and Wormtail), but they don't come. What if he approached Harry because he saw him as pack? What if he attacked Snape because he saw him "trying to hurt" Harry, his pack?
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fizzyginfizz · 11 months
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Believe
For @hinnymicrofic - Prompt 19 - Believe
“I didn’t do it.”
Harry’s eyes flickered to the evidence scattered about the kitchen.
Broken mixing bowl shards.
Two tiny slices on Albus’s left thumb.
Torn flour bag.
Flour on the counter. Flour on the cool box. Flour on the floor. Flour in the cat dish.
Flour on Albus’s shoulder.
Flour in Albus’s hair.
Flour smeared across Albus’s nose.
“Are you sure you didn’t do it?”
Harry crossed his arms, wearing his auror face. The face of interrogation. A face of such chiseled righteousness it intimidated death eaters, illegal potions dealers and dark arts practitioners into confessing their every sin.
Yet, somehow completely useless against his offspring.
“Nope.” Albus popped the ‘p’ with so much fervor, Harry could spy his missing front tooth. “Didn’t do it.”
Overwhelming evidence: a bar of chocolate sliced into tiny pieces, as if an artist were trying to design chocolate chips.
With a pair of scissors.
On the table.
Chocolate smeared on the blades.
“Albus.”
“Didn’t do it.”
An empty carton of eggs on the counter. Broken shells and eight raw eggs oozing off the lip of the counter.
Practice, Harry theorized.
In a second unbroken mixing bowl, four eggs soaked into the only bit of flour not scattered all over the kitchen.
Harry’s crackerjack, detective, auror eyes - intense green eyes that missed nothing - dropped to the final piece of evidence: an incriminating whisk gripped in his son’s little hand.
“I didn’t-“
Both sets of intense green eyes swerved at the whoosh of the swinging kitchen door. Ginny breezed into the room, shining like the rays of the sun, a beacon of serenity and goodness amidst chaos.
Which would have made Albus nervous, if he were older and knew better.
“I know you didn’t do it,” she said, her smile brightening the room, she fixed its brilliance on her son.
Harry mentally tagged out; the cavalry had arrived.
Ginny knelt in front of Albus, her small hands framing his face as she smiled softly at him. Loving. Generous. Her eyes as limpid and huge and guileless as a doe’s. “I know you didn’t, Albus. I believe you,” she said, with earnest innocence. “I know you would never, ever lie to me.”
Harry bit his cheek to keep his face stern.
“You know why?”
Albus’s eyes also went large as his head twitched slightly.
“Lies are like invisible nargles,” Ginny said softly, in the kind of sweet voice normally reserved for bedtime stories, post-bath time cuddles, and soft ‘sweet dreams’ before the nightlights flickered on. “But vicious ones.”
Albus’s eyes slid sideways, unable to hold the serene gaze of an angel.
“This one time,” Ginny scruffed his mess black hair, maternal love laced through the gesture. “Uncle George lied to Grandma Molly. The lie wriggled and gnawed its way right into her heart.”
With an emphatic gesture, Ginny knocked on her chest.
“Then, the little lie chomped and tore through her flesh, until she was gasping for air and coughing up her blood and guts as the lie devoured her from within and all of my brothers started screaming and the clock spun to ‘mortal peril’ the bird started cuckooing ‘dangerdangerdanger’ and she had to be rushed to St. Mungo’s where she was on life support for three weeks and we didn’t know whether she would live or die and Grandpa Arthur had to read the bedtime stories all by himself which was awful because-“
“Dads don’t know how to do the voices!” Albus yelled, panicked.
“They don’t, right? They really don’t.” Ginny exclaimed, wrapping up her big finish. Then, with a bright cheerful smile, she kissed Albus on the head, and stood. “So that’s why I believe you, and why I know you would never, ever in a million trillion zillion years lie-“
Ginny paused, her throat seizing with a tiny, but no less dramatic cough.
“Stopstopstop! I did it!” Albus yelled with his eyes squeezed shut, the whisk dropping from his hand to clatter upon the tiled floor with ringing finality. “I did it,” he groaned, defeated.
Harry tagged back in as Ginny shot him a sassy, absolutely-not-angelic-at-all wink.
Unbelievable.
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saintsenara · 8 months
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happy birthday ginny, here's a fic with you and both of your dark-haired orphan simps.
Nerve
When she was five, Auntie Muriel had given her as a birthday present a small china figurine of a cow.
And, since she was five, and all she wanted to do was ride brooms and fall out of trees and throw gnomes at Percy, she had laughed derisively the second she opened the gift and called it ‘a bit rubbish’.
Mum had been furious, and the telling-off Ginny had received - as Muriel stormed out of the house with her nose in the air, ‘Weasley children are ungrateful whelps, the lot of them’ ringing around the Burrow - had managed to impress upon her an important lesson: no matter how shit a present is, pretend you like it.
---
- and Percy got a brand new owl when he was made a prefect, and that happened the day before I turned ten, but I didn’t get anything new that day, it was all second hand. Except my Auntie Muriel gave me a box of drawing pins. But who wants a thing like that?
That sounds ghastly.
It was! Obviously I wasn’t rude. I just -
I know it sounds really silly, but I just want my own things. I want to be special. I want everyone to notice me. Nobody notices me.
That doesn’t sound silly at all.
You’re sweet :) 
---
The lesson had held for ten years. It was fracturing today, as she turned fifteen and unwrapped Fleur’s gift to her - presented with a beatific, ‘I ‘ope you will like ‘ow it stops you being so - ‘ow you say - disorganised’ - and saw the embossed scarlet leather cover, her initials on it in gold, of an extremely beautiful and obviously stupendously expensive diary.
‘Oh,’ said Ginny.
Fleur seemed happy enough with that, leaning into Bill’s arm - wrapped around her shoulders - with a contented (read: smug) look on her face. Harry and Ron were both shovelling birthday cake into their mouths, but Hermione was looking at her with the sort of stricken, wobbly expression which made Ginny nervous.
‘Cheers. It’s great,’ she said to Fleur, in an effort to communicate to Hermione that she needed to keep fucking quiet and not bring up my previous diary-related fuck-ups at the dinner table. Fortunately she got the hint, although Ginny knew there’d be plenty of whispered nagging about whether she’d ‘properly dealt with everything’ later.
But she couldn’t help staring at Bill, as if to say, ‘thanks for not spilling my most embarrassing secret during your pillow talk’ and ‘hey, you know how there’s a war on? Maybe you should tell your fiancée that your sister was fucking possessed by You-Know-Who for a full year, so she knows exactly what sort of mess she’s getting into.’
He just looked at his cake instead.
---
- and I told mum I didn’t want a victoria sponge cake. But she made one anyway, because it’s dad’s favourite. But it was my birthday. I wanted a chocolate cake.
Does that make me sound really spoiled?
It does, doesn’t it?
What kind of birthday cakes did you have, when you were my age?
I have never had a birthday cake.
WHAT?
How???
I was born in an orphanage. That’s a Muggle institution for children whose parents are dead. There was hardly enough to go around normally. Birthdays were out of the question.  
Oh.
I’m sorry.
I survived.
Harry’s an orphan as well.
Is he indeed?
---
‘I’m so sorry,’ said Hermione later, bustling around Ginny’s room brandishing a hairbrush like a wand. ‘The nerve of her! She had no right to do something like that.’
‘She didn’t know.’
‘But Bill should have told her.’
‘Yeah. Maybe.’
Hermione sat on the end of Ginny’s bed and looked at her earnestly. ‘You can say if you’re upset, you know.’
‘It’s fine.’
‘I mean, I’ve never thought you’ve ever properly dealt with everything, and I -’
‘I said it’s fine, Hermione. For fuck’s sake, give it a rest.’
---
Hermione was still in a mood the following morning.
The diary sat on Ginny’s bedside table, the cover shimmering softly at her.
‘I suppose the colour was meant to be nice - Gryffindor, you know - but it’s just ended up being another cruelty,’ sniffed Hermione, when she’d decided she was no longer angry with Ginny and she ought to have another go at nagging her about her life.
‘What d’you mean?’ said Ginny, round a mouthful of chocolate frog.
Hermione looked at her as if she was as dumb as Goyle. (Ginny could see why quite a few people didn’t like her). ‘Well, it’s like his eyes. Isn’t it?’
She looked so convinced she was onto something that Ginny didn’t have the heart to tell her that her him had eyes the same polished tortoiseshell brown as Hermione’s own.
---
I could make him a valentine’s card, couldn’t I?
You could.
I could say he has nice eyes. He does have nice eyes.
So you’ve said.
They’re very green. I could say that. ‘You have very green eyes.’
That’s not very romantic, is it?
I could say, ‘you have eyes so green they’re like…’
I dunno.
A fresh pickled toad.
Or an emerald.
Pick the emerald.
I like the toad.
Pick the emerald.
They aren’t emerald green, though. They’re fresh pickled toad green.
I just think -
I’m going to say that his eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad.
Or do you think he’d hate that? 
I think you should say his eyes are like emeralds.
He will hate it, won’t he?
Would it matter if he did?
YES.
Picture me rolling my eyes.
Tom. I’d DIE.
Imagine if he laughed at it. 
And if he didn’t?
That isn’t possible.
Ginny.
Anything is possible if you’ve got enough nerve.
---
She dropped a blob of ink onto the page and waited for the inevitable.
She realised she had been staring at it for hours when mum called her down for dinner.
---
She could never have explained to the other three why nothing happening was as much of a disappointment as a relief.
They were bound together so tightly you’d have thought they were one-and-the-same. It didn’t seem to occur to them that their friendship was abnormal. Or, maybe, that hers were. That, maybe, it isn’t normal for a fifteen-year-old to not see her boyfriend all summer, or not to have friends visit, or not to Floo off for house-parties and trips to Diagon Alley. That, maybe, her position in a clique of ‘popular’ girls was tenuous, something light and meaningless and easily discarded.
That, maybe, the best friend she’d ever had was a piece of disembodied soul which had very nearly succeeded in killing her.
---
I don’t think anyone understands me like you.
You’re my best friend in the whole world :) 
I’m delighted to hear that. The feeling is mutual.
Now. I need you to do me a favour.
Anything :)
You will walk down to the gamekeeper’s hut.
I will walk down to the gamekeeper’s hut.
---
‘I don’t think Harry will get back together with Cho,’ said Hermione one evening.
Ginny snorted. ‘Yeah, obviously. He fucked that right up.’
‘Dean’s nice.’
Ginny tried to ignore the jittery feeling in her stomach. ‘Yeah. Yeah, he’s brill.’
Fortunately Hermione was already yawning into her pillow. ‘Did you have a nice birthday, by the way?’
‘Yeah.’
There was a brightly-coloured bang from outside.
Hermione jumped up, brandishing her wand. ‘What on earth was that?’
---
I wish I was with mum and dad for Christmas. On New Year’s Eve we always have hot chocolate and watch the fireworks from the village. You can see them really well from our garden.
I spent all evening crying. And now I can’t sleep. 
Are you awake?
Is it New Year’s Eve today?
Yes.
Ah.
It doesn’t feel very festive though.
Go to the North Tower, and - just before the Divination classroom - you will see a painting of three house elves wearing a trench coat. Poke the middle one on the nose and the painting will swing open to reveal a window. Climb through the window and you will find yourself on a flat bit of roof, with an uninterrupted view towards Hogsmeade. At midnight, there will be fireworks to celebrate the new year. 
But there will be nobody else around, and they will feel as though they are for you.
---
‘Relax, Hermione. It’s just someone letting off fireworks.’
‘God. I thought it was the Dark Mark or something. Honestly, who lets off fireworks in the middle of August?’
‘You never know. Maybe they’re for me.’
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afinaldream · 1 year
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From a No-Voldemort AU WIP that hopefully will see the light of the day this year. 1.6k words of Ginny pining after Harry.
Harry has the warmest smile Ginny has ever seen in anyone.
It makes her think of hot chocolate, the kind she raises in the middle of the night to prepare in the kitchen, enjoying the sweetness that brings good dreams when she goes back to sleep. She wonders if kissing him would taste like chocolate too.
It's not likely she will ever know. He won't ever look at her as if she is anything more than Ron's little sister.
So she goes back to watch him from afar, wishing there was some way of vanishing those stupid feelings inside her, some magical potion to stop her heart from beating faster when he gives that lopsided grin, the one that shows all happiness inside him.
That's really his most attractive feature. Harry is so happy, all the time, that his face seems to glow — the infectious grin, the sparkle of his bright green eyes, the way he never stops moving. He is lively.
His eyes catch hers before Ginny can look away and pretend to be interested in anything else, and she feels a blush coming to her face that she hopes she can account for the heat. It's a really warm August day, especially here in the South of England, so no one can fault her for being pinker than usual.
But instead of noticing she is flustered for being caught ogling him, Harry gestures for her to come closer and Ginny walks towards him, unable to refuse him. She is hopeless and she knows it, but it's hard to care when Harry's eyes are turned to her.
“Your brother is crazy,” Harry tells her as soon as she joins his side, in a carried whisper that's obviously to be heard by Ron at his other side.
“Took you four years to realize?” Ginny quips back, sounding properly shocked.
Harry's smile increases in the same proportion Ron looks outraged.
And then those unstoppable butterflies open wings in her stomach, something nicer and scarier than flying. He is so nice that she really wishes she could see him in the same fraternal way that he always treats her.
Her life would be much easier if she didn't fancy her brother's best friend.
“Watch it,” Ron says smugly. “You'll see I am right after tonight's match.”
“Are you still betting on Puddlemere? They'll be crushed by the Harpies tonight — er—” Ginny throws a brief glance at Harry, not minding her smirk then. “No offence to your dad, Harry.”
He just laughs. “None taken, I am betting on the Harpies too. Their beaters are just too good, and their new seeker is amazing.”
“Sure, Felicia Howe is amazing,” Ron agrees, though his smirk tells Ginny that he is not thinking about the same qualities that Harry was referring to. Sitting on a bench next to them, Hermione raises her head from her book long enough to let out a disdainful sigh that makes Ron blush and gag. “Er — I mean, as a seeker. She is an amazing player, that’s all.”
Harry's eyes catch Ginny's again, but this time she doesn't blush. This is just one of their secret exchanges, the look they share whenever Ron and Hermione are being completely stupid about the fact they fancy each other. It's happens a lot.
“But Puddlemere has very seasoned chasers,” Ron adds, his voice somehow enough to make Ginny turn her gaze away from Harry; so far she has been very good at keeping her feelings unknown to her brothers, and Ginny would rather this does not change; they would never let the topic go. “If the match is long enough, they might win.”
“Howe has set records in this season for fastest captures of the Golden Snitch,” Ginny reminds him, while Harry nods his head.
“That's her move, catching the Snitch before any disadvantage becomes too evident in the game,” he agrees, and then he turns to Ginny with that bloody glorious smirk that turns her insides into jelly. “Which proves how seekers are much more valuable than chasers.”
It's an old discussion, one that Ginny remembers siding with Harry's dad in the living room of the Potter's house, her and James Potter against Harry in the defence of the important role of chasers in a team. They always use the same arguments (“it's all about teamwork, chasers often decide the result of the game” versus “you need three chasers for one goal that's only worth ten points?”), so it's more for the sake of the discussion than for anything else.
She knows how she should answer, but Harry is looking at her, his tanned skin contrasting with the white shirt he is using, his eyes sparkling behind his glasses, and Ginny cannot for her life think of a reasonable answer. He has grown over the summer too, which Ginny carefully admired while they were on the beach, and she can only be glad he is wearing a shirt right now, or she would do something stupid like drool or compose a poem about him.
“Fine,” Harry sighs when she doesn't answer. “Chasers are a little important.”
Ginny forces herself to breathe.
“They have all the fun,” she says, glad that her voice comes out steady. “You know, while the seeker is out there just bored out of his mind.”
“Bored!” Harry scoffs teasingly. “As if. There is so much happening on the field — it's not like the bludgers ignore us. You know it's much dangerous being a seeker—”
Ginny loses herself happily in her discussion with Harry. That’s the main problem of having a crush on him — they are friends. Sure, Harry is closer to Ron and Hermione, just as Ginny is closer to her friends in her year, but when it comes to that easy talk, Harry and Ginny are unbeatable. He was the first person she ever told about her flying abilities and Harry had been the one to encourage her to fly in front of her brothers — their jaws had dropped, it had been totally worth it — and then had introduced her to his father, who was one of Ginny’s idols in Quidditch.
And last year, when he needed a friend to go with him to the Yule Ball, Ginny had accepted his invitation. Harry never said exactly he was asking her as a friend, but Ginny was not stupid; she had seen the way he’d looked at Cho Chang, splendid in the arms of the Hogwarts champion, and she had known what it meant. She had helped him ease his mind, though, because they were friends — and as such, she’d danced with him and they had shared a laugh over Ron’s jealousy of Hermione and then they had finished the night rating other couple’s dance moves (Malfoy and Parkinson had gotten a five for being a git, Neville and Hannah had been the only ten of the night because they danced perfectly and Harry had given himself and Ginny a very respectable eight, because even though none of them were good dancers, they had enjoyed themselves and that counted points).
But when the party had ended, they had gone back to the Common Room — one of the last couples to do so — and they had said their goodbyes at the edge of the stairs to their own dormitories.
“I had a really good time tonight,” Harry had said, that warm smile on his face. “Thank you, Ginny.”
“You were not a bad date either,” she had replied teasingly.
And then there was a moment of silence, one that lasted seconds longer than it should and it was enough for Ginny to realise how her heart was thumping impossibly fast with a longing burning inside her as she stared at Harry, still looking handsome in his dress robes.
He was really handsome, she remembers thinking with a start. It was not that she had not noticed it before, but this was the first time she’d understood what that attraction really meant and it wasn’t that crush she’d harboured after seeing him embarking the Hogwarts Express years ago. And she had realised how much she wanted to share a goodnight kiss with him then, how much she wished they had not gone together as friends.
But Harry had done nothing more than pass his hand over her hair, in the most brotherly gesture she could think of, and Ginny had just nodded and turned around to go to her own dormitory, fighting back the heaviness on her chest. Harry would never look at her in any other way than that friendly way. She could understand it — if he saw Ron as his brother, he’d see her in the same way.
Ginny had tried to forget those stupid feelings, knowing perfectly well that Harry was pining for another girl and that they were pointless. It was easier said than done, however, especially when he was just so oblivious to how wonderful he was.
Once or twice it had come to her mind that she could take the large step of faith and just ask him out. Just one date, a real one, enough for him to know how she felt about him and, if he accepted it, enough for them to know if they could turn their friendship into something more. But Ginny knew that this would mean tainting their friendship and that she didn’t want to risk it; in a bad scenario, he would reject her and it would become obvious that her feelings were completely one-sided; in an even worst scenario, Harry would accept out of pity.
Whatever feelings she harboured for him, they were friends first.
Which meant there is only one thing for her to do. Get over him.
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startanewdream · 11 months
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For @ginnyw-potter's Fluff O'Clock Challenge. Hope your birthday is amazing, Kami ❤️
On a rainy day, Harry and Ginny play a test to prove there is no fail-safe secret to falling in love.
Read on AO3, or below:
*****
It was raining, which, according to Mrs. Weasley, meant they couldn’t go flying. Harry complained lowly about how the rain hadn’t ever stopped a Quidditch match at Hogwarts, to which Ginny shook her head in agreement, exchanging a mutinous look with him.
“We’ll fly later,” she promised. “Mum likes to take a nap after lunch, we will just skip past her.”
He had to grin. “Flying hidden? Isn’t that your thing?”
She placed a finger over her lips. “I can let you into one of my secrets, just once.”
Her eyes were sparkling with mischief; something pleasant took flight inside him, like the wings of a butterfly—or a Golden Snitch. He hadn’t realised how the idea of flying against the rules was so exciting.
Ginny moved to the living room and Harry followed her. Ron was enjoying the rain to sleep late that morning, and Hermione was not there because she had gone back home to stay with her parents for the weekend. He grabbed one of the Quidditch magazines, reading articles about the latest matches in the European League—there was a comment about a pass that Ginny could practice later, especially in bad weather conditions, but when he turned to tell her, all thoughts vanished for his mind for a moment.
It was not that he hadn't seen Ginny before,but—it was raining, the waterdrops falling thinly, not properly a storm, just enough to turn the sky into a light, lifeless shade of gray; Ginny was sitting by the window, and against that bland sky, her bright red hair was lively, entrancing, fiery; he felt a sudden compulsion to touch it, see if it burned under his touch or was as silky as it looked. There was a smile on her lips, a happy calm one that didn’t match the weather—it reminded Harry of the sun and blue skies. Her brown eyes were warm, fun; he thought about chocolate, melted chocolate with a touch of caramel, and—
And Harry blinked when he found that Ginny was watching him.
“What?” She asked, joyful as ever.
Harry gulped, shaking his head and looking down at the magazine she was holding, an old edition of the Quibbler, and read the first thing that he could see on the cover.
“Fail-safe secrets to fall in love.” It was only then that he considered that, after weirdly being caught ogling at Ginny, this was not the best thing to notice. “Ah—how is that?”
“Oh.” Ginny turned the magazine to check the cover. “Yeah, this is an edition discussing love. All sorts of articles about what is love, if you can use it as a magic ingredient, if you can fabricate it—” She shook her head, clearly amused. “Mum does say love is the secret ingredient of good cooking.”
Harry breathed easily. “I’ve tried your muffins, you can’t hate your brothers that much.”
“Watch it,” she said, the menace in her voice eased by the fact Ginny was smirking. “I’ve never poisoned anyone.” She handed him the magazine. “Give it a try.”
Harry browsed through the Quibbler absently. “There is a room in the Department of Mysteries that studies love,” he mumbled, grimacing slightly. A humming, disbelieving sound was his only answer. “What?”
“I never thought love could be something you study, I mean—studying is pouring through books and taking notes, like Hermione does, but love—love is for feelings, right? How does one study love? You cannot control it.”
“Hmm.” He showed her a page in the middle of the magazine. “According to this, you can fall in love with thirty-six questions.”
Ginny rolled her eyes. “This is stupid,” she declared, but then she slid onto the couch to her left, patting for Harry to sit on the spot she had just vacated. “Come on, let’s do it. Let’s prove this doesn’t work.”
Harry sat next to her, watching her uncertainly. “You want us to ask each other questions to see if we fall in love?” He felt as stupid as she called that test when he said it out loud; Ginny was his friend, and his best friend’s sister; the only thing he felt for her was friendship, of course, the same as he felt for Hermione or—
But it felt weird comparing Ginny to Hermione as if they belonged to two different categories inside his mind; sure, he had never lost track of his thoughts just by looking at Hermione, and if he had to be grounded because of the rain, he was rather glad that Ginny was his company—
“No,” Ginny said, interrupting his reverie once again. “I want us to prove this test makes no sense. Go on, what’s the first question?”
“Ah—who would want as a dinner guest, given the choice of anyone in the world?”
“Am I cooking for them?”
“I think not.”
“Someone I like, then.” She exchanged a grin with him. “I would say... Morgana. There are so many stories and mysteries about her that I would want to know who she truly was, and not by people who feared her or didn’t understand her. She would be an interesting dinner guest… What about you?”
Harry bit his lips. “If we are considering anyone, not just people that are alive… my parents.” Ginny nodded slowly. She didn’t look judging or pitying, something that made him immensely grateful. He considered the second question. “I don’t think I’m the best person to answer this test.”
“Why?”
“The next question is, would you like to be famous and in what way?”
Ginny just looked at him; Harry felt a sudden urge to arrange his fringe over his forehead, but Ginny didn’t break her gaze, not once deviating from his eyes to steal a glance at his scar.
“So?” She asked quietly. “What would you like to be famous for?”
Most of the time he didn’t want to be famous at all, but Harry remembered a lost dream: lifting the Quidditch World Cup, the crowd cheering and admiring him for something he had done, not related to any dark wizard; once, there had been Cho Chang’s face in the crowd, but she wasn’t there anymore. No, when Harry looked to his side, he could see Ginny there, beaming, wearing the same English team uniform—
“Quidditch,” he said, trying to urge his mind to focus. “You know, a bit like—Viktor Krum.”
“Don’t let my brother hear you,” she teased. Then a blush coloured her cheeks. “I would like it too. Sometimes I think… Ginny Weasley, the chaser who broke all the records—something that young girls who cannot fly with her brothers would look up to, you know?”
She was avoiding his eyes now; Harry nodded. “I can see you doing it,” he said earnestly.
Ginny glanced at him, her face still pink, before she took the magazine to read the next question. “Before making a Floo call, do you ever rehearse what are you going to say?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever called anyone.”
“Me neither.” She considered it for a moment. “Have you ever sent someone a love letter?”
His eyes widened. “No, of course not!”
She grinned at the panic evident on his face. “Let me try a different angle. You’ve had a date this year, right?” Harry shivered, remembering that disastrous Valentine’s Day with Cho months ago. “Did you rehearse it in your mind?”
“Ah.” He truly couldn’t remember it. “I don’t think so—not really my style.”
Her grin turned into a smirk. “You would rather be spontaneous on a date?”
“More like if I thought too much about it, I would combust internally and die.”
Her smile flickered for a moment. “This is not really how you want to feel before a date with someone you fancy.”
“That was how I felt all the time around Cho.” Her lips were twisted as if she was holding a grimace. “What?”
“Nothing, it’s just I always thought…” But Ginny shook her head, dismissing whatever was troubling her, and before Harry could say anything, she moved to the next question. “What is a perfect day for you? And I already know it’s not a rainy one.”
He threw an overdramatic offended glance at the weather outside, earning Ginny’s laugh. She had a nice laugh, Harry thought suddenly: sparkling, full of life; bright.
“Summer day,” he answered at once. “That sunny warm day, a blue cloudless sky, birds singing, green grass and—” He looked at Ginny, and imagined them flying in this picture he had painted. “Like those we had this summer.”
She nodded. “The same, but with a few clouds. I like to watch the sun filtering through the clouds.”
Harry smiled. “Okay, we can add that.”
She threw him a funny look. “It’s your perfect day.”
“We can share a perfect day,” he said, and then he felt suddenly awkward, realising that Ginny was in his vision of a perfect day. He looked down hastily at the magazine. “When did you last sing to yourself? Oh, I know this one. You sing in the shower all the time.”
She chuckled. “Yes, and I’m not ashamed of it.” Ginny winked at him. “My bottle of shampoo never once complained about being used as a microphone.” Harry laughed as well; whenever he passed in front of the bathroom when Ginny was taking a shower, he could hear her voice inside, singing one of the latest wizarding hits; the sound of her voice always made him grin. Ginny wasn’t bad; sometimes she missed a note though Harry thought it was only because she was doing it on purpose, exaggerating her favourite parts of the song. He could picture her then, shampoo bubbles around her as she sang animatedly—only if Ginny was in the shower, then the water would fall over her head, down her hair, on her bare back and— “I’ve never heard you singing.”
He gulped quickly. “Ah, I don’t.”
“Everyone does. You have a nice voice, I think you could sing well if you wanted.”
“A nice voice?”
Her face was pink once again. “Yeah, a normal voice, you don’t sound like a banshee. Anyway—if you would live to the age of 90, would you rather keep the mind or the body of a 30-year-old for the last 60 years of your life?”
“I’d say that living up to 90 would be a miracle for me.”
She threw him a sharp look. “Not funny. Next… hum, we might skip this one. So, name three things—”
He read the question she had moved past. “Do you have a secret hunch about how you will die? Come on, this one I would ace.”
“Harry—”
“At the age of 90, trying to play Quidditch when I chose the mind of a 30-year-old guy, not the body.” And, as he expected, that earned him Ginny’s amused chuckle. “Speaking of, three things we appear to have in common: first one is easy, our mutual love for Quidditch.”
“Well, we are Gryffindors so we are probably more reckless than smart, we love a nice summer day, we both agree that I’m brilliant—”
Harry snorted. “When did I say you are brilliant?”
“You don’t think I’m brilliant?”
“I never said I didn’t think it, just that I never vocalised it.”
“So you do agree I’m brilliant.” A wink; those butterfly wings tickled him. “What in your life do you feel most grateful for?”
“Hum. That I have—and had—people in my life that loved me.” He bit his lips, wondering if he’d said too much, but Ginny just nodded, thoughtful. “And you?”
“I think… I’m grateful for today. I know things are never certain, and there was one time when I thought…” She took a deep breath. “I am alive, here, today, now. And I know how special this is.”
It was not a memory that crossed his mind usually, but Harry thought about a dark chamber, water on the floor, a lifeless girl with flaming red hair—only he didn’t see the 11-year-old Ginny, but Ginny as she was today, older. That image was even more frightening than how he had felt living that moment; Ginny was so lively, so energetic, that he couldn’t imagine her like that, never again.
He shook his head and looked down. “If you could—we might skip this one. I would change everything about the way I was raised, that’s obvious.”
Her eyes flashed dangerously for a moment before she nodded. “Then the next question…” She watched him. “Share your life story in four minutes. Oh, we can skip that, I think you know mine already.”
“And, well, my life so far could fill about five books, I don’t think it would take only four minutes.” Harry snorted. “This one is nice: if you could wake up having gained any one quality or ability, what it would be?”
“Oh, no, I cannot choose one. I wish I could fly, that I could actually concentrate during classes, that I could be more moderate.”
“Hum.” He sighed, amused. “I was thinking about the same, your last one; sometimes I wish I could think more before acting. But also…” He shrugged. “Sometimes it was all I had.”
She gave him a sympathetic nod. “It’s who you are. Not all your impulses are bad.”
“But when they are… people end up hurt.”
“No.” Ginny’s eyes were hard. “People get hurt because other people hurt them. Not you. You wouldn’t hurt a soul.” She turned the page of the magazine. “If a crystal ball—no, Divination is just random nonsense. Let’s see—is there something that you’ve dreamed of doing for a long time? Why haven’t you?”
It had nothing to do with the question, he knew, because that question was about accomplishments or plans, but Harry had dreamed about Ginny the last night. It was not unusual; his days were filled with so much activity, so bright unlike any other summer he had ever had, that at night he usually relived those moments, his brain trying to deal with everything; sometimes his dream would add colourful details that made no sense. His latest dream had almost slipped away from his mind, as dreams do, but then Harry had a faint memory of flying with Ginny, only they were on the ground, and everything around themwas tsuspended in the air, swirling around them like a hurricane, and the only gravity was her presence—
“No dreams,” he said hurriedly, then he remembered what the question really meant it. “I mean—there’s this dark lord I would like to vanquish—"
“It shouldn’t be your responsibility,” she mumbled, more to herself than to him. Then Ginny shook her head, still adamant about keeping things light. “I dream about locking Ron and Hermione in a broom shed and only letting them out when they finally snog.”
Harry shuddered exaggeratedly. “I don’t wanna see this.”
“They would be in the shed, Harry, you wouldn’t see.” She grinned. “Oh, what’s the greatest accomplishment of your life? Mine is the day Fred and George saw me flying for the first time. Merlin, the look on their faces. I wish they would forget it all over again so I could relive that moment.”
Harry nodded. “It must have been something.”
“Well, just not perfect because, you know, I was trying out for the Seeker position.”  She sighed, and they exchanged a grimace thinking about a toad professor they would rather not. “What about yours?”
“My Outstanding grade in DADA.”
“Ohh, educational accomplishment? You stun me, Harry.”
He chuckled. “I got top grades because I cast a Patronus by imagining Umbridge being expelled. Talk about a happy memory.”
She glanced at the magazine. “That would be one of the next questions, your most treasured memory.”
Harry looked down as well. “I’m skipping the question about the most terrible memory, we’ve got dementors for it. But my most treasured, actually…” He bit his lips. Ginny just looked at him, and there was something so calming about her presence that Harry found himself sharing a story he usually didn’t. “Has anyone ever told you about my first Christmas at Hogwarts?”
She frowned, thoughtful. “I remember that you and Ron stayed. And that was the year you saved the Philosopher’s Stone, right?”
Harry nodded. “That Christmas I got my father’s Invisibility Cloak. So I did what anyone would do with such a powerful cloak—”
“Sneaked around Hogwarts? Played a prank on Slytherins? Midnight trip to the kitchens?”
“I went to the library.” He waited for Ginny’s disapproved snort, and he wasn’t disappointed. She had dimples at the corner of her mouth when she smiled. “We were searching Nicholas Flamel. Anyway, I ended up having to make a quick exit to escape Filch, and that’s when I found it, the Mirror of Erised.” Ginny looked politely curious. “It’s a magic mirror. It shows your heart’s deepest desire.”
She slid closer to him, unblinking. “What did you see?”
Harry closed his eyes for a moment. “My parents. I had never seen them before, the Dursley had no photos… but I knew who they were.” He leaned his head against the couch. “Nobody else could see them, so it was just mine.”
She leaned her head as well; there was a touch of sadness in her eyes now, something that Harry understood better than he wanted. “Thank you for sharing this with me,” she whispered. “Do you want to take a pause? We don’t have to do all these questions today.”
“No, no, I’m fine.” He looked outside. “It’s still raining, so no Quidditch for us. Shot the next question.”
She didn’t look assured, but she moved her gaze down the list. “A few questions about the importance of friendship; I already know what Ron and Hermione mean for you… oh, here is one. Share five things you consider a positive characteristic of your partner.” Ginny watched him for a moment. “You are kind.”
“Kind? No one ever told me so.”
“Well, you are. Especially with people that aren’t used to kindness or in situations where others would make fun.”
He’d never thought about himself in those terms; Ginny’s voice left no room for argument, though, and he felt a sudden urge to say something about her. “You are lively. Like there is no raining day with you.”
She tilted her head. “It is raining,” she reminded him. She was right, but being around her, in that room, Harry could easily ignore any bad weather outside. “You are the bravest person I’ve met.”
“You are tough,” he shot back, trying to ignore the surge of warmth that her compliment brought him. “Not in a mean way, but like as if you could overcome any challenge.”
Her eyes were hard, blazing; they reminded Harry of diamonds. “You are smart.”
“My grades—”
“I don’t care how Snape grades you in Potions or something like that. You are intelligent, you can keep your head even in the most stressful situations, and that’s being smart.”
“Well, you are fierce. There is no middle term with you, your heart is into everything you do.”
“My heart? You are one who gives all you’ve got when you like something. I’ve seen you do this with flying or the DA or fighting Death Eaters—”
“And you are powerful, a very bright witch—your brothers were impressed, I was impressed during DA—”
Ginny blinked. “You were?”
“Yes, I—” He felt suddenly exposed, until he remembered he was supposed to be her teacher then. He had to watch her in those classes. “Your spells were always perfect, only your partner—”
His voice died, but Ginny nodded. “Michael was stupid, most of the time he was afraid to hurt me as if I couldn’t just defend myself.”
“You can,” Harry agreed without any hesitation. “You are… you are brilliant.”
“I knew you would say it aloud.” Her smile was teasing, but she looked self-conscious. “I lost count of how many things we shared.”
“Me too,” he said, not wanting to admit that for a moment Harry had all but forgotten about what they were doing. He eyed the list of questions. “This one, if you knew that in one year you would die suddenly, would you change anything about the way you are now living?”
She considered the question. “Yes, I would be more fearless.”
Harry had to chuckle.
“How is that even possible?”
“Well, contrary to popular belief, I think before acting… sometimes.” She shrugged. “I don’t tell Bill how I really feel about his engagement. I plan on actually studying this year because I don’t want to face Mum’s disappointment. I haven’t jinxed Percy for leaving this family. I never really told you how—” Ginny blinked. “Anyway, there are things I wish I could do, and if I thought I would never get any chance to do it… It’s silly, isn’t it? We will all die, that’s the one thing anyone can be sure of, and yet we keep pretending we have countless days, so we postpone what we really want to do.”
She looked far away from him, thoughtful. Harry could understand what she meant—there was a prophecy hanging on his neck, threatening to pull him down to a bottomless lake, a recurring reminder that maybe his life would be short—but also, somehow, in that room with Ginny, feeling a scent of flowers even though the window was closed, he couldn’t worry about the future.
“Come on,” he called suddenly, grabbing Ginny’s hand and pulling her up; she startled, but followed him.
They moved quietly; Harry could hear Mrs. Weasley singing to herself in the kitchen, and she didn’t hear when they opened the front door and walked down the path leading around the house to the yard. The rain was still soft; it sprinkled their faces slowly, like the beating wings of the Golden Snitch that was flying inside Harry as he twirled in the rain with Ginny, still holding her hand, splashing water on them as he stepped on the puddles in the ground without a care in the world.
His head was spinning when he paused and turned to face Ginny. Waterdrops were clinging to her eyelashes. “I would enjoy the rain more,” he declared confidently.
The smile on her lips was infectious. “Next question,” she teased, “was to make three true statements starting with ‘we’. We are getting so grounded when Mum finds us here.”
“We are so not going to regret it.”
She laughed warmly. The Snitch inside him made a dangerous turn, dizzying him as if he had dived on his broomstick, but that whooping feeling had always been one of his favourite things about flying.
“We have fun together,” he said.
“We do.”
Harry grinned. “That didn’t count.”
“Of course it did! Let me think… We will miss this summer like no other.”
“We will,” he agreed, and winked at her. “Another question?”
She opened her magazine, not minding the rain. “Complete this sentence: ‘I wish I had someone with whom I could share—’
“Share what?”
“That’s what you have to complete.” Ginny chuckled. “I wish I had someone with whom I could share all my flights. Someone who wouldn’t ever ground me.”
I wouldn’t ever, Harry thought suddenly. Ginny was made to be in the air, free like a bird.
“What about you?”
“Ah—everything.” Through the wet lenses of his glasses, his eyes locked with hers; there were strands of her hair clinging to her face and he felt a sudden urge to pull them away from her face. “I wish I had someone with whom I could share my happiest memories.”
This would be one of them, he realised. On that warm summer day, with his feet soaked and his clothes all wet, standing under the rain with Ginny in front of the Burrow, it dawned on him that he was at peace—that he was happy.
It was such a strange otherworldly feeling that it took Harry a few seconds to notice that Ginny was reading the magazine again.
“You are a good person,” she said, and that broke through his reverie.
“How so?”
“The question to tell your partner what you like about them, something that you might not say to someone you’ve just met.” Ginny’s gaze was soft. “You could be sorrowful. You could act as if life was unfair. You could be mean. But you are good, and that’s because you have a good heart and that’s who you are. That’s what—that’s what I like about you.”
Her voice shivered just a bit, but Ginny didn’t break the eye contact. His cheeks burned.
“You are no quitter,” he whispered. “Ginny Weasley doesn’t listen when others tell her something it’s impossible—you would never give up on anything, and that’s something I admire about you.”
She looked away for a moment, whispering something that Harry couldn’t hear.
There was a moment of silence; he felt suddenly awkward about what he had just said. “These questions are very personal,” he said, running a hand through his hair nervously, and moving to stay closer to the wall of the Burrow, under the roof and safe from the rain.
Something in his voice seemed to spark her back to herself. “The whole point of this article is that intimacy leads to love,” Ginny said, shaking her head to share her disbelief with him as she joined him. The rain had thickened, tapping on the roof over their heads. “Question 29 – share… oh, no, I am not answering this one.”
“What?” He asked, curious.
“Share an embarrassing moment in your life.” As Harry just kept looking at her, his expression unchanging, Ginny sighed exaggeratedly. “Your eyes are as green as—”
“As fresh pickled toad!” He finished suddenly, the first verse of the poem coming back easily to him. Ginny’s face was burning like the setting sun then, a sight that Harry hadn’t seen in years. “Was it really you?”
She groaned. “How many girls were crushing on you back then?”
He had to concede that. “I thought it might have been Fred and George, it sounded like something they would do.”
“As much as I would like to blame this one on my brothers, no, all me.” Her cheeks were still pink. “Well, I know it was your most embarrassing moment—”
“No, I mean, twelve-year-old Harry was embarrassed, but if it happened nowadays, I would—” Take it as a compliment, he’d meant to say, but now he was picturing a different Valentine’s Day—maybe in that same hideous place he had visited in Hogsmeade, only Ginny would be sitting with him, and they would have a laugh about the decoration, those pink hearts; she would send him a Valentine card just to tease him, and so would Harry, only he didn’t know what he could rhyme with your eyes are as brown as a pool of melted chocolate—
“I hope my poem skills are better nowadays than back then,” Ginny said, and the light teasing in her voice was enough to disperse his thoughts. “So what was your most embarrassing moment?”
“Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop,” he said. Without Ginny in the picture, it was easy to know the answer. “Have you ever felt so out of place?”
“That place has that effect,” she agreed. Ginny was shaking her head in sympathy, and it suddenly occurred to Harry—not that he should mind—that Ginny had been there before and though he had just imagined himself with her there, he suddenly couldn’t see her in that tea shop with anyone else.
It wasn’t Ginny at all.
He picked the magazine. It was soaked, the pages starting to dissolve, but he managed to read the last question.
“Of all the people in your family, whose death would you find most disturbing?”
Ginny turned to look to the Burrow, her face wrinkled. Harry regretted asking the question—that was a theme he understood better than most, and he couldn’t ever choose whose death has impacted him the most—
“Percy,” she mumbled. “Right now, it would be him. I haven’t talked to him in… nearly a year.”
“He will come along,” Harry assured her at once. “He just needs some time.”
Ginny watched him, her head slightly tilted. “You would be okay with him, wouldn’t you?” She asked; her voice betrayed a hint of amazement. “Percy believed all the lies the Ministry said about you and yet you would not hold against him.”
He held the back of his neck, unsure. “He wasn’t thinking clearly.”
“No, he was. But he made a mistake and you—you never judge anyone by their worst. That’s so you.”
“That’s good?”
“Yes,” Ginny said softly. “You are more than enough.” She smiled to herself before shaking her head. “Well, I think the last question was about advising the other about a personal problem, and you’ve just done it for me. So—any problem you want to share with me? I’ve been told – well, I tell myself anyway – that I am an excellent adviser.”
She was inviting him to join her tease, a glint in her eyes—Harry found himself entranced by the depth of her eyes. Passionate rhymed with chocolate – if he could make it work in the second verse of his poem, he would have the perfect combination to her chocolate-brown eyes—
And then he remembered.
“You’ve also done it already for me,” he said, the memory fresh on his mind. “A few months ago, when you told me I could find a way to talk with… with Sirius.” Hope, Harry remembered. Talking to Ginny that day had sparked a feeling that anything might be possible, indeed, as if a small fire had been lit inside him and kept burning even in the darkest days.
“Chocolate in the library,” Ginny said; her smile looked almost nostalgic as she stared into the rain. Harry wondered if she was reliving that moment also.
There was a moment of silence, broken only by the tapping rhythm of the rain; it sounded like a song, and then it occurred to Harry that there were multiple possibilities of where a raindrop would fall, so many factors that it was unlikely the sound he heard now would be ever repeated. It was a song just for him and Ginny.
“Feeling in love already?” Ginny asked suddenly, her voice teasingly even as she kept staring ahead. “I don’t think we went through all the questions, so I am not sure it counts as a failure for the test.”
Harry glanced at the magazine, unreadable now. “Er—I don’t think we will finish it. I may have to buy you a new magazine.”
“Don’t mind it.”
He shrugged. “I wanted to complete the test.”
“Oh, it was silly, and you know it. There is no fail-safe way of falling in love—just as you cannot force someone to fall out of love. Those things just happen, or they don’t.” She sighed to herself.
“Maybe it doesn’t work,” Harry agreed slowly. “But I had fun, I mean, it was nice. I feel closer to you—that was one of the points of this test, right?”
She turned to him then; they were cloistered close, Harry noticed suddenly, sharing the same roof by the window, so close that he could see the dark shade of brown that circled her eyes, and the tiny spots of honey sprinkled inside. Her eyes were warm, captivating; he could stare at Ginny for hours, and yet Harry felt he would still find a detail he hadn’t noticed before in her eyes—
“Perhaps we shouldn’t do this,” Ginny noted, her voice rough. “I think the last part of the test was to keep eye contact for a few minutes.”
And indeed, she turned away, taking a step ahead and rejoining the rain. “Since we are going to get grounded anyway,” she said, once again bright, “do you want to play Stormy Quidditch?”
Harry lifted his eyebrows. “How is that different from normal Quidditch?”
“You will get mud all over yourself.” He looked pointedly at his legs; jumping into puddles was not the best idea to keep one clean. Ginny giggled. “It will get worse,” she promised, then she ran down the path to the broom shed. With the rain falling heavier now, all Harry could spot was the flash of her red hair.
He laughed as he ran to join her; the rain soaked him at once, almost like a shower. Maybe his perfect day had nothing to do with the weather after all.
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displayheartcode · 8 months
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For the Send a Ship and a Number get a Kiss meme:
Hinny, 36
O’Neill/Carter, 40
because i haven't watched stargate since that time I was home sick for several days...
-
Few things entertain Harry like having his wife conduct an interview with him.
Ginny’s purple quill danced over the parchment. She leaned forward on the table, chin cupped in her hands. “Tell me more about your boring life…” She looked at the side and reread the name. “Henry Porter.”
“It’s fantastically boring,” Harry said, ignoring how Ginny’s editor was shouting on the other side of the door. “It will drive you to tears.”
“Weasley, you promised me an exclusive with–”
Ginny tossed a Muffling Charm over her shoulder. “How terrible for you to live the life of a common man.”
“No heroics,” he agreed. “Hardly an adventure unless you count the trips to the grocers.”
It was rare to give up control during an interview but for his wife? It was like performing a complicated trick on a broom. The right balance with the banter, then the joy of seeing her catch his verbal cues, eyes bright with laughter.
“And what does the most boring man alive do these days?”
Harry sighed. “I had to tell my children not to eat too many Chocolate Frogs. I then managed to sneak one for myself and had to eat it in the safety of the pantry.”
Ginny made a sympathetic noise. “How dreadfully dull!”
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enigmaticemperor · 1 year
Text
Ron is the biggest Hinny shipper, and I stand by it.
Prompt #15 of @hinnyfest: "Who says we can't get married now?"
Also on ff.net and AO3
"I would bloody destroy you!" Ron shouted. 
All three of them were heavily drunk. It was Percy's engagement party, and Harry, Ginny, and Ron couldn't bear Percy shouting one more time at them because the flower vases weren't exactly at the centre of the table or something like that. Also, the songs were dreadful.
"Oh, yeah? I would crush you to pieces!" Ginny countered.
Hermione left early with her parents. And now, the three of them were at the Burrow's dinner table. 
"No fucking way!"
Ginny and Ron were arguing. About what, Harry had long forgotten.
"I'll beat you so bloody bad that you won't get out of bed for days!"
Harry downed the rest of the firewhiskey and slammed the bottle down on the table, startling both of them.
"Ask Harry!" Ginny told Ron.
Ron nodded vigorously and asked, "So, who do you reckon, Harry?"
Harry rubbed the back of his neck, not knowing how to tell them he wasn't following their shouting match.
Ginny saw his confused look and explained in a far sweeter tone than she used on Ron, "Ron and I are arguing about who knows you better. Tell him that it's me, Harry." She looked at him expectantly with heavy-lidded eyes.
"Like hell it is!" Ron slammed a fist on the table, looking at Harry. "He's my best friend!"
"And he's my fiancé!"
Harry was sure they knew him almost the same amount, though Ginny might have an edge.
"Ok, how old was he when he first had ice cream?" Ron asked, looking at Ginny with determination.
Ginny's expression matched her brother's. "Seven. You have to be better than that, Ron."
Chocolate, he thought fondly. Charles from school was always friendly to him. On his birthday, Charles’ parents brought ice cream to school, and Charles distributed it to the whole class. He remembered to give him his ice cream away from Dudley.
"What was the first thing Tonks got Harry?" She smirked, knowing that Ron wouldn't know this.
Ron smirked back, and Ginny's smile faltered. She thought he wouldn't know this. "A toy Hippogriff. Harry was three months old."
Sirius told him this. He was surprised that Tonks knew him as a baby.
Ginny's jaw dropped. "How the fuck do you know?"
"Sirius told Harry. Harry told me. What did Harry call it?"
"Giff!" She shouted back at him, frustrated.
She didn't have to think about her next question. "What does Harry think about those horrid orange posters in your bedroom?"
"He thinks they're hideous." Harry turned to Ron to try to deny it, even though he knew it was spot on.
Ron shook his head at him and said, "You're just too good to say so." 
Harry relaxed back in his chair now that it was settled.
"When will Harry be made Deputy Head Auror?" Ron leaned back in his chair too. This was classified.
Ginny grinned proudly at Harry. "The first of September."
"Harry!" Ron turned on him. "That's classified!"
"Not to Ginny, it isn't," he smiled.
"It's your fault," Ron accused her playfully.
"I hate you too, Ron."
Ginny took a sip and asked, "When are we getting married?"
"December 18th."
"Nuh-uh," Ginny wagged a finger. "16th."
Harry looked at Ron apologetically. "We wanted two more days for the honeymoon. We haven't told anyone yet."
Ron grumbled that he was mad that his sister and his best friend didn't tell him, the person who was the most excited about their wedding.
"Who says we can't get married now?" He heard Harry telling Ginny.
"Yes!" He beamed. 
"You just want me to be wrong," she accused.
"No," he frowned. "It's not because of that. I know you two wanted to get married since before you started dating - "
"Exaggeration," Harry and Ginny said at the same time.
He waved them off, and barrelled on, "Besides, I know you're frustrated with all the wedding planning. I'll be your witness." He reached for both of their hands and held them in his.
"That's an idea," Ginny said, after a moment.
Before their drunk selves could actually get up to go to an official, they heard Molly calling for them.
They quickly shot up, and Harry reached for the hangover potions in his pockets, Ginny charmed away the smell and cleaned the table, and Ron disposed of the bottles, and both he and Harry moved around the room to get rid of any other evidence of them drinking. Ginny moved towards one of the cupboards to make a show of searching for the cutlery that her mother had sent them for in the first place.
They did this so swiftly and in tandem that, to an onlooker, they had been practising this for years.
As Molly started scolding them for not being fast enough, Harry and Ginny thought that maybe Ron was onto something.
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oncasette · 1 year
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THE DEAD POETS. send in an au! for any character from this list (and/or a trope) & receive a drabble *does not have to be one of the tropes listed on my guide, however those are some of my favs
fake dating with ron weasley pls ro ro <33
“help me get back at the twins,” you hear ron grumble from behind you. “please. it’s been a living nightmare since they got girlfriends.”
“what are you going on about, weasley?” you offer him a side glance, barely looking up from the book you were no longer reading.
“come to the burrow over christmas break as my girlfriend. well— my fake girlfriend. just to shut fred and george up enough to eat dinner in peace. i won’t do anything to make you uncomfortable.”
his rambling is endearing enough to have you closing your book.
“what’s the plan?”
“is that a yes, then?”
“i don’t see why not. i visit ginny and mione for half the break anyway. what’s the whole month?” you say, watching the pink flush tinging at the tips of his ears.
“bloody hell, i didn’t think that would actually work,” he exhales, shoulders deflating as he falls into the loveseat beside you. his arm finds the back of the couch with ease, hand barely nudging your shoulder.
“we’ll need ground rules though, obviously,” you say.
“obviously,” he mimics.
“no obnoxious snogging. a kiss on the cheek is fine, you know, but i don’t want molly to make me sleep out on the lawn,” you say.
“you know she wouldn’t make you sleep out on the lawn.”
“whatever. either way, you’re keeping your lips to yourself, weasley,” you say, though the smile on your face keeps the words from coming out as bitter as you’d planned. they’re sweet on your tongue, almost, like melted chocolate as you allow your eyes to trace the freckles lining his nose.
“yeah, yeah,” he waves you off.
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diana-bookfairchild · 11 months
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@hinnymicrofic May Prompts Day 17: Lessons
TW: A kind of teacher and student relationship. Both are of age, Harry is only a temporary instructor and this is pre-relationship but it's there.
Ginny had never loved lessons more.
Auror Harry Potter – temporary Duelling Instructor, but she felt calling him Professor would be contradictory to her efforts to seduce him – had been suspended for not obeying orders in the field. Unfortunately for him, and fortunately for her, his superiors and Dumbledore had cajoled him into teaching at Hogwarts.
She’d heard him grumbling about it to Ron plenty of times.
Ginny was really glad she’d opted to take Duelling lessons during her Charms mastery.
She’d known Harry for ages, of course, but being four years younger than him had not inspired him to see her as anything other than his best friend’s little sister, the seven-year-old who had had a debilitating crush on him in their childhood.
The one triumph she’d had had been last year, when at Christmas at the Burrow Sirius had hung enchanted mistletoe and Harry had had to kiss her. The way he’d stared at her after their brief kiss had given her a spark of thrill right down to her toes.
Now she was twenty-one, three years into her five-year Mastery. She had no desire to see him kicked out of his job, of course, so her seduction master plan was very subtle.
But she thought it was working.
His suspension was for six months – half of which had already passed, so he wouldn’t be her Professor for much longer anyway.
He didn’t act as much of a Professor to her either. She’d stayed back after the lesson to tease him about his duties as best man in Ron and Hermione’s upcoming wedding. He’d gotten some chocolate biscuits out for them to share.
She munched as they discussed the temporal translation theory. Neither of them were experts, not being Hermione, but it was relevant to both Aurors and Charms, so they were knowledgeable enough to debate it.
“You’re coming to the Burrow for Christmas, right?” She asked.
“Yeah, most likely. I don’t think Sirius has anything special planned.” He answered.
Ginny laughed. “Mum might kill him if he does without giving her any notice.”
“You have a point; I’ll have to warn him.” He watched her, and Ginny licked the tips of her fingers as she finished her share of the biscuits. She felt his eyes on her and the sensation made her heart flip. “You know, I don’t get why you picked duelling as one of your classes.”
She shrugged. “It was one of the electives, it’s pretty relevant to my focus, and I’m fairly good at it.”
Harry smiled faintly. “I’d say more than just fairly good.”
Something inside her buzzed at the compliment. She ignored it, and tried to make him feel as he had her. “Well, I had an excellent teacher.”
Harry stilled. “Miss Weasley—Ginny,” he started. “I know what you’re doing.”
Ginny inclined an eyebrow, leaning back against the wall. “I’m sure I have no idea what you mean.”
He considered her. “You’re trying to seduce me. Your Professor.”
A heady mix of fear and thrill passed through her. “How in Merlin’s name did you get that idea? I’m not trying to seduce anyone.” She was succeeding at seducing, so that was true.
“Don’t lie to me.” Harry sounded very unimpressed.
She sighed and made a show of giving up. “Fine. But not you. There’s this guy in class – Gareth Overcliffe. He’s—”
“A Herbology mastery student. I know,” Harry growled, and Ginny observed with delight the – was that jealousy? – that leaked into his voice and eyes. He gathered himself impressively quickly, but he was an Auror after all.
“Right, I suppose you would,” she said blithely. “Anyway, I’ve been trying to gauge if he’s interested in me.”
If you’re interested in me.
Harry looked amused now. “I feel I need to remind you that I’m a trained Auror and can detect feelings and lies pretty well.” Their eyes met, and he broke the gaze a few seconds later. “And what if he isn’t interested in you? Will you stop the … seduction?”
There was a tone change. He seemed slightly uncertain, poised for disappointment.
Well, may as well set him straight.
Ginny looked up at him cockily. “Oh, I can assure you, there’s no chance of that.”
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