#i don't actually wear tweed two pieces but i would if i had some

[foreigndivinities]

♡ aesthetic tag ♡

tagged by @awkiespineapple (source)

➼ 𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓 11/20

baby pink | iridescent | glitter is always a good option | no bra | minimalistic tattoos | cherry patterns | sweet scented perfumes | wearing generous amounts of blush | doodling hearts | getting excited to pet an animal | fun nails | rewatching old barbie movies | hair sticking to glossed lips | heart shaped sunglasses | taking pictures of the sunset or sunrise | stuffed animals | protecting nature | stickers everywhere | teen movies | the light rain that falls from a clear sky at the beginning of the night |

➼ 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐀𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐀 16/20

neutral tones | masculine outfits | studying languages | worn down copy of books | grey skies | turtleneck sweaters | loose fitting pants | hair tied with a silk ribbon | trying to remember a cool difficult word you read somewhere to use in a convo | thick belts | minimal makeup | windows fogged by rain | vintage jewelry | blouses with cuffed sleeves | reading a murder mystery and trying to solve it | oxford style shoes | sweater vests | subtitled old movies in a language you don’t speak | leaves crackling as you walk | annotating books to express your emotions about the story |

➼ 𝐄𝐃𝐆𝐘 9/20

closet full of dark clothes | fishnet tights | makeup sweating off | neon signs | searching for unknown songs | chokers | band tees | doodling on old converses | finding smoking aesthetically pleasing but not doing it | weird humor | accidentally very dramatic | dim lights | layered outfits | chain belts | chipped nail polish | messy hair | low quality pics | piercings | combat boots | scribbling on desks |

➼ 𝟕𝟎’𝐒 11/20

colorful wardrobe | doodling flowers | wearing short shorts | using a bikini top or bra as a normal top | listening to ABBA | flowers in your hair | DIYing everything | jamming to songs alone in your room | drunkenly telling your friends you love them | patterned bandanas | mid heeled shoes | messy braids | flared sleeves | walking barefoot on grass or sand | bold sunglasses | the good kind of tired you get after doing something you enjoy for hours | feeding stray animals | fun patterned socks | room decorated with succulents and other plants | likes to go roller skating or skateboarding |

➼ 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐔𝐀𝐋 13/20

collared clothes | drinking juice out of a champagne glass | getting excited to see the met gala looks | thick headbands | small pastel cardigans | making your friends take your ootd pics | plaid mini skirts | tweed two pieces | watching reality tv to pass time | frilly tops | watching old hollywood movies | academically driven | long manicured nails | new year’s eve fireworks | colourful tights | layered golden jewelry | yearns for luxury brand items | decorating your room with fairylights | cursive and neat handwriting | lace details |

don't have anyone else to tag so if anyone wants to do it feel free to do so

#i don't actually wear tweed two pieces but i would if i had some #aesthetic tag #tag game #about me #soft aesthetic #dark academia #edgy aesthetic #70s aesthetic #preppy casual aesthetic

[harpyloon]

“ginny, i always want to sleep with you” // hinny

Pairing: Harry Potter x Ginny Weasley

W.C: 2.5k+

Summary: Harry Potter is always a blubbering mess when it comes to Ginerva Weasley.

Warnings: pure fluff! sprinkles of angsty angst, squint and you’ll find mentions of war/battle and death. everybody lives AU!

A/N: A fic written for the @harryandginuary Ginuary gift challenge. Happy Ginuary @/gins-potter​ 😍😍😍I hope you ENJOY!!!

Read on AO3

Harry didn't think this through.

After defeating the Dark Lord and winning a wizarding war, he assumed he'd never have to think about anything ever again—at least not for a while. But gazing at her small blinking dot for almost half a year on a rotten piece of parchment apparently made him delusional, because at the moment—months after the battle of Hogwarts—sitting in the kitchen at the Burrow, his longing stare almost bore a hole through Ginny Weasley's face.

His Ginny.

Wincing to himself, Harry prodded on the peas in his plate. His subconscious when it came to Ginny was his greatest enemy and his biggest embarrassment. If anyone even came close to guessing what kind of dreams he had when it came to her... well... He breathed away the flush threatening to creep up his neck.

"More peas, Harry dear?"

Mrs. Weasley peered at him from the head of the table, a frown on her freckled face, "You've hardly eaten anything. Don't think I've noticed how skinny you've been getting again. I'd be having a word with Alastor about your Auror training. Ever since he got back he's been more insufferable—"

Snatching the dish of treacle tart in front of him, Harry filled his plate with a slice.

"I'm up for dessert now actually, Mrs. Weasley, thanks."

This seemed to satisfy her well enough. "Well, I whipped that up just for you so eat up."

He felt a nudge on his knee as Ron leaned in to whisper once Mrs. Weasley was out of earshot, "Save me some, will you? She goes barmy when we touch your treacle tart."

Harry smiled and nodded. Meals at the Burrow he was used to but he knew he'd never get tired of. His Auror training held him back a ton of weekends in the past few months, and being home felt splendid. Of course, he was never one to wear his heart on his sleeve, but Harry hoped Mr. & Mrs. Weasley knew how grateful he was.

Risking a glance across the table once again, Harry saw Ginny serving herself second helpings of mash. Her favorite, Harry thought. He remembered her hating Madame Pudifoodt's Tea Shop for its lack of savory spreads, the one time they attempted a visit during his sixth year. It ended up turning into a laugh as she snorted at all the snogging instead of actually drinking tea.

"So this is your kind of place, huh?" Ginny teased as she sifted through the menu.

Harry blushed, "Er—you don't like it? I kind of reckoned girls like this place..."

He chuckled nervously as she gave him a pointed look.

"Really, Potter?"

Breathing out a sigh of relief, he snatched the menu away from her, already standing.

"Three Broomsticks then?"

He knew he'd buy her all the Butterbeers in the world for the smile he earned.

A foot prodded Harry back to the present.

"What, Ron?" he grumbled.

Ron frowned at him. "What'd you mean 'what'"?

"You just—"

Someone coughed loudly across from them.

Both turning, they saw Ginny heaving over her mash, a fist in her mouth. Fred was rubbing her back soothingly beside her.

Harry blinked. It was her. She kicked him.

"Alright there, Gin?" Fred mused. "I told you to take it easy on the potatoes, you crazy woman."

"Do the Harpies know what kind of stomach they'll be feeding once they sign you in?" said George. "I bet you they'll break a sweat once they find out your appetite."

Ginny threw George a withering look after downing a glass of water. "Don't jinx it, you idiot."

"Have you heard back yet, Gin?" Ron asked over a mouth full of pudding.

"More like they haven't heard from Ginny," chuckled Hermione.

All the Weasley brothers gaped. Even Harry.

"What?" sputtered George, "You're making the Holyhead Harpies wait?"

The youngest Weasley scoffed. "I'm not making anyone wait. I was just standing by for the holidays before I give a reply."

"Well, it's the holidays now."

Ginny rolled her eyes and Harry's gut clenched. The mad part of his brain loved it when she did that.

"I am well aware," she said, "If you all are so eager, does anyone want to take my place then?"

Her brothers merely grumbled while Hermione laughed. It's been the talk of the town for a while now, after Ginny received a letter from the Harpies a few months after the beginning of her seventh year. The whole house went completely ballistic, even Hogwarts as well—or so Harry heard.

It took a month to bury the dead from battle and a whole summer to rebuild Hogwarts from the rubble; the Ministry was still in the process of rehabilitation, and the whole wizarding community was yet to heal, licking the wounds that Voldemort left behind. Ginny's Quidditch scouting was the first good news they'd received in a long time.

He didn't get back together with Ginny after the war, and there was no reunion like he'd always imagined in those long nights without her, in search for the Horcruxes. It wasn't as if they both avoided it, there just wasn't any time—time to talk, time alone, time for anything. Everyone had their hands full following the battle, and when things started to fall back into place, they've simply slipped through each other's fingers; Ginny whisked away by the Hogwarts Express, and Harry to the Ministry to begin his training as an Auror.

He considered moving on, especially on days when he'd think about her roaming the halls of Hogwarts, her fiery red hair blazing after her. She'd find someone, he thought bitterly. If she hasn't already.

But they'd written to each other, sparingly, although they did still. Short snippets of their day, what they ate for breakfast, the new set of professors at school, Mad-Eye's torturous lessons; Harry was the first person outside the castle to find out about her Harpies letter.

He caught her eye from across the table and she raised a brow at him as if to say What, Potter?

Chuckling under his breath, Harry shook his head and tapped the bowl of uneaten mash beside his plate. He saved it for her.

Ginny's gaze landed on it and her face lit up. If Harry didn't know any better, her hair seemed to glow even redder. His imagination loved to exaggerate his visuals when it came to her.

He felt a tiny poke on his toe as if to warn him not to react violently—she gave him a look and he pursed his lips, looking back down at his peas and moving them around once again. Then slowly, an ankle wrapped itself around one of his own and rested there.

Harry exhaled slowly, willing his pulse to calm.

He was not over Ginny Weasley at all. Not one bit.

 ----------✿----------

Creeping quietly down the steps, Harry tried his best to avoid the noisy floorboards (that he still didn't memorize to save his life). His two best friends didn't mention anything, but he knew they wanted some alone time. And he certainly didn't want to be around once the candles dimmed and Ron and Hermione started making eyes at each other.

He was almost at the first landing when the door to his left creaked open.

"Hermione?"

"Sorry. It’s me."

Ginny opened the door wider, gazing up at Harry, her face bemused. She was dressed for bed. "They kicked you out already?"

Laughing quietly, he said, “You know they’d never. I volunteered.”

She smiled knowingly. “Of course you did. Well, come on in then.”

Harry stared at her retreating form, clearly confused.

In? In where? In her room? Just the two of them?

Ginny disappeared inside but the door remained open.

Should he knock and ask her what she meant? Should he just go inside? It's not like he hasn't before.

Suddenly, the most recent memory of Ginny's room flashed through his consciousness—his 17th birthday.

"Something to remember me by."

Harry's ears grew hot. He refused to let that specific recollection surface when he wasn't alone, or in the confines of his own quarters. It made his brain go fuzzy.

"Harry?" he heard Ginny's faint voice from inside, then footsteps. She appeared by the door once again. When she saw his face, her brows furrowed. "What happened?"

Harry attempted to clear his throat without sounding like a retching toad. "Er—I'm—" he was sure his face was now as red as her hair, "I was going to take the couch actually," he managed weakly.

"The couch," Ginny said flatly.

He swallowed. "Y-yeah. Downstairs."

The silence was deafening and it stretched on for minutes. Or at least that's what it felt like in Harry's rowdy head. He needed to meditate. Merlin. He was losing it.

Finally, she said, "Okay. Goodnight then."

She gave him a strained smile then quietly shut the door before he could reply.

Harry stood there, mouth hanging open slightly.

Ginny Weasley just invited him inside her bedroom and he refused. He refused. Of all the things in the world that made him a blubbering idiot, it was his best friend's little sister. He always seemed to be dumbfounded whenever she was in the vicinity of his space.

"Idiot," he muttered to himself as he descended the stairs, no longer bothering to mask his footsteps. "Idiot, idiot, idiot."

Harry sulked his way to the living room, his mood most definitely dismal. Girls were a nightmare. He had no idea how their brains ever worked and every time he felt like he finally had a grasp at a situation, he was suddenly ten steps back.

He waved his wand mindlessly over the Weasley's tweed couch and leaned by the fireplace as he watched it transform into a small sofa bed.

Would he wake anyone if he flooed Sirius at this hour? He knew his godfather would still be up at Grimmauld Place, and would doubtlessly jinx him between the eyes if he found out what Harry had just done.

"You're just like James," he heard Sirius' voice say in his head. He never seemed to let this fact go, even when he knew that Harry was well aware of how he was a spitting image of his father. Sirius especially loved to point this out when it came to matters about Ginny.

"Dad actually ended up with Mum didn't he, Sirius," Harry growled under his breath as he settled on his makeshift bed, patting his pillow down with more force than necessary. He was in the mood for a petty fight and he wished his godfather was around for one.

Suddenly, he heard footsteps thumping down the stairs. Harry jostled into a sleeping position at once and took off his glasses, planting himself still in the awful case that Mrs. Weasley found him huddled on their living room couch. She wouldn't have the heart to wake him would she? He didn't want her causing a scene with Ron and Hermione. Harry tried as best as he could to look as wasted as possible, even attempting at a snore.

The footsteps came nearer, and he felt them stop by the door of the living room. He tried to even his breathing.

"Really?"

His eyes shot open.

Sitting up suddenly, he found Ginny standing by the doorway, her arms crossed. Only the dim moonlight illuminated the room, and Harry had to squint before he remembered he took off his glasses. His hands fumbled as he perched them back on, his eyes meeting Ginny's vexed gaze.

"Ginny," he said lamely.

"Are you seeing someone?"

"What?"

Her hair glowed in the dark space, like a warm halo around her head.

"You heard me."

Harry's pulse seemed to be skyrocketing. "Seeing someone? I don— no. No. I'm not seeing anybody at all."

Ginny looked skeptical. "Right."

Almost tripping over his own slippers, Harry barely managed to scramble to his feet in front of the only girl who plagued his dreams. He wanted to embrace her. Could he do that? Was he allowed to, still?

"Ginerva," he was breathless. "You have no idea..." Harry tried to calm his racing heart. Just get the words out, idiot. "You have no idea how much I think about you."

Her eyes gave nothing away as she looked up at him, and only her crossed arms kept the space between them. Harry saw tendrils of her hair stir as he exhaled. He wanted to kiss her.

When she said nothing, he lifted his hand experimentally, waiting for her to flinch or back away. Not sensing rejection yet, Harry trailed his fingers through the wisps of hair by her ear. He could smell her. He held himself from inhaling too deeply.

"Different shampoo?" he murmured.

Ginny sniffed, "Mum tried a different witch brand."

"Hmmm. Jasmine was my favorite."

She rolled her eyes. "I know."

Harry threaded his fingers through her hair, brushing her scalp now, and Ginny leaned into his touch.

He smiled. "But I like this one too."

"We should just share shampoos."

"Good idea."

They were silent for a moment. Just listening to each other breathing while Harry combed his fingers through Ginny's soft hair. The ends were still damp, he noticed.

"I missed you," she said suddenly, quietly. Her eyes were roaming all over his face as if gauging his reaction.

"I missed you too."

"But you don't want to sleep with me."

Harry's cheeks turned pink in the dark as he breathed out a laughed. "Ginny, I always want to sleep with you."

"I meant sleep sleep, you perv!" she pinched his stomach.

Trying to stifle his chuckle so as not to wake the rest of the house, he drew her in, finally bracketing her in his arms. "Ah, well, I mean that too, I guess."

Ginny huffed but melted with his touch. "I will have you know that I've turned down suitors for you, Harry Potter. So if you won't stake your claim, then I'd better take one of them up on their offers."

Harry's gaze narrowed. "Will you, now?"

"Watch me. Apparently, I'm quite popular with the Hufflepuffs—"

He leaned in lightning-quick, aiming for her luscious mouth. She expected it because her eyes closed in instinct, waiting for him to seal the connection. But Harry hovered. He felt the feathered touch of her lips on his but he stayed there, eyes open—trailing over her closed lids, the bridge of her nose, and the aggressive spread of freckles over the expanse of her cheeks.

"May I kiss you?" he asked against her lips.

Ginny's eyes blinked open but she didn't pull away. "Since when have you started asking?"

Harry was glad they were so close that she wouldn't be able to see his neck flush. "Since I let you go once."

This time, she did pull away, but only a tiny fraction. Just enough for him to witness her wrinkle her nose. "So saving the world has made you a complete sap."

She was teasing.

He shrugged, but grinned sheepishly nonetheless, "For you, yeah. I always have been though, haven't I?"

Twirling her arms around his neck and brushing her fingers through his unruly hair, Ginny pressed herself against Harry fully, her face shining with emotion.

"Then snog the living daylights out of me, Harry Potter."

#by gabi #hinny #hinny fic #hinny fluff #harry potter x ginny weasley #hinny post-war