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starlingflight · 14 days

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loml

Written for @corneliaavenue-ao3 TTPD Several Sunlit Daylights challenge.

Read on AO3 or below:

I. lesson of my life

Every illusion Ginny has ever had is shattered over the course of a single night.

She doesn't go into the chamber willingly. She claws, and scratches and fights against Tom's commands with all her might. She cries, and she struggles, but in the end it makes no difference. She isn't strong enough. As the darkness swallows her up, her final childish hope is for a rescue she knows isn't coming.

When she opens her eyes again it doesn't feel like a miracle. The cold from the stone floor has seeped through her skin, a chill has settled deep in her bones and she knows, with absolute certainty, it will never fully go away.

Of course Harry is there, holding a mighty sword, a dead monster behind him. The very image of the conquering hero she's always fantasised about, but this isn't like one of Ginny's fantasies. He's covered in blood, and his eyes are wide with the same terror that's taken root deep within her soul. There's no triumph in this moment, only horror.

This isn't a dream. It's a nightmare. One that Ginny won't fully wake up from for a very long time.

She learns many lessons that night, but the most important one will come later. After she's spent weeks, months, years putting herself back together, because Harry might have rescued her from the chamber, but, as Ginny will come to realise, the only person who can really save you is yourself.

II. light of my life

Harry's never known a darkness like this. It starts when he watches Sirius fall through the veil, tiny tendrils of black slowly leaking out from his heart, unfurling with increasing urgency until he's overwhelmed by a cold, empty abyss that he's sure nothing will ever penetrate again. How can it when Sirius is never coming back?

He doesn't even notice the first ray of light. It happens so quickly. He's in the hospital wing, trying very hard to let Hermione's commentary on the latest news from The Prophet distract him from the aching chasm in his chest, and the unbearable weight of the prophecy, when it happens.

Luna says something completely ridiculous about Crumple-Horned Snorkacks – whatever they are – Harry can feel Hermione's exasperation from across the small gap that separates her bed from Ron's. Ginny's chocolate eyes meet his, and something happens that he'd assumed would never happen again.

Harry smiles.

It's fleeting, lasting less than a second. There's very little time to dwell on it before they're looking away from one another, and the grief washes over him again, a tidal wave that steals the air from his lungs.

That's just the beginning though… or maybe the beginning had been years ago. Maybe the blush he'd once thought of as the setting sun had actually been the opposite; Ginny's light rising, her warm, rosy glow beginning its ascent into his life.

She continues to rise that summer, forcing the darkness back with her sheer brightness. Her smile turns black to grey; her laugh is powder pinks and bright oranges; the jokes she coaxes from him are pure, cloudless blue.

When she runs at him across the common room months later, she's blazing, burning red. When she reaches him, when Harry finally kisses Ginny, the sun reaches its apex and his whole life is awash with bright, brilliant gold.

For a few shining weeks there are only sunlit days.

III. loss of my life

Fittingly, they're at a funeral when it happens. Ginny always knew he had great comedic timing. She's not laughing, however, as Harry lays out all his stupid, noble reasons why they can't be together. She's not crying either, though; that feels like a small mercy. The only one she's going to get for a while.

She does cry when she finally makes it home. It's silly, she knows. Silly, foolish, naive Ginny Weasley, a familiar, cold voice whispers through her mind. For once, she doesn't try to argue with it, but she doesn't try to stop either.

Instead, she buries her face into her pillow and lets herself sob until her eyes run dry. Her tears aren't just for her broken heart, but for everything Ginny's already had to sacrifice; her childhood, her innocence.

It isn't until weeks later that she realises the true magnitude of what she stands to lose.

“And then what does she think's going to happen? Someone else will kill off Voldemort while she's holding us here making vol-au-vents?”

The fork Ginny is holding almost slips from her grasp. Her heart falters in her chest. Harry playing his flippant comment off a joke does nothing to return it to a steady rhythm.

It plays round and round in her mind that night. Her knuckles are ghostly white where they grip her bedsheet. Vaguely, she'd known what he'd planned to do, but vague notions and knowing with absolute certainty are two very different things. The task Harry brought up so nonchalantly in the kitchen is nothing short of a suicide mission. It hits Ginny with the force of a barrage of stunning spells, knocking the air from her lungs; Harry might not come back to her.

Two days later, when she kisses him in her bedroom, it doesn't feel like she's saying happy birthday, it feels like she's saying goodbye.

When Harry follows Ron out of her bedroom door, he takes a piece of Ginny with him, one she prays she hasn't lost forever.

IV. longing of my life

She haunts him like a ghost. What was once screaming colour and pure unfiltered brightness is now just a memory, a pale imitation permanently stuck on repeat in his mind.

Harry moves stoically from one hiding place to another and, though they're separated by miles, Ginny follows him to every single one.

He can hear her laugh in the wind that shakes the canvas sides of the tent. He can see her smile in the sunlight that penetrates the thick canopy of the forests they move between. At night, when he closes his eyes, he can almost pretend the sheet brushing against his skin is her fingertips.

It's worse when he has the locket on. Then, he's tormented with visions like the one he'd imagined on his birthday; of her moving on. Finding someone else. Living a life that can never be his.

Horcrux or no, he can't stop himself thinking about her. Aching for her. Longing for her.

He clings to memories of Ginny like scraps of driftwood, the only thing keeping Harry afloat when he's been set adrift.

V. lament of my life

It's like the chamber all over again. Ginny's whole world is flipped upside down in the space of a single night.

She doesn't see Fred go. She doesn't know the last time she sees her big brother that it's the last time.

“Take care of yourself,” he'd shouted over his shoulder as Ginny had gone hurtling down a corridor in pursuit of a Death Eater.

“Don't I always?’ she'd called back.

What if she'd told him to do the same? Would he have listened? Would he still be there?

There's very little time to dwell on such questions in the middle of a battle. Especially not when every passing second brings another devastating loss.

Lupin. Tonks. Colin.

Ginny's heart shatters into a million little pieces until it doesn't exist at all. Or so she thinks, until she sees Harry's body cradled in Hagrid’s arms.

Then she knows she still has a heart, because it's in unbearable agony. She doubles over from the pain of it. His name escapes her lips on a scream, as though she might be able to call him back to life through sheer desperation.

Tom Riddle talks; for the second time in Ginny's life, she's unable to hear him, but this isn't like the Chamber at all. This time Ginny wishes she was dead.

When the battle resumes, she jumps straight into it with wild abandon. Ginny's lamentation is not filled with tears, or wailing. It's fire and rage for everything that's been taken from her. Tom Riddle already stole her past. Now he's taken her future. She will take everything she can from him, or die trying.

VI. lowest of my life

He's never truly let himself imagine what it might be like to actually defeat Voldemort. If he had, Harry doubts he would have pictured it like this.

If it's a win, why is there so much loss?

He doesn't know whether the grief or the hope is more overwhelming. They mingle together, like waves in the ocean, swelling and breaking, threatening to pull Harry under.

He can feel it crash over him as he stands in the great hall the day after the battle. The bodies are still there; all the people who don't get the second chance Harry does are laid out in front of him. Lifeless eyes staring, unseeing, up at the enchanted ceiling.

The guilt and the pain sweep through him like ice water, filling his lungs; rising up in Harry's throat until there's no possible room for air. He takes a step back, desperate to flee somewhere he can sink down into the cold, lonely depths.

Before he can, a hand, small and warm, slips into his, pulling Harry back to the surface. He releases one, long, deep breath before looking at her.

Ginny's attempt at a smile is tinged with sadness, sunlight peeking through dark grey clouds.

Only hours ago, he'd contemplated all the things he needed to say to her, but now no words are exchanged at all. Only a look. It's all they need. All they've ever needed. Everything has changed. But he's still Harry, and she's still Ginny.

Instinctively his arm comes around her. Ginny buries her face in his chest, sagging slightly against him, as though she was waiting for this moment to let herself rest. Like she needs him as much as he needs her.

Harry's head rests against hers, the floral scent of her shampoo is faint, lingering beneath everything that's happened. It makes his heart falter anyway. He holds her tightly to him, something he never thought he'd get the chance to do again. As he's come to expect, time seems to stop for her. They stay like that for what might only be seconds, or possibly an entire lifetime passes.

Eventually, Ginny pulls out of his grasp. It takes less than a second for her hand to find his again, fingers entwining. She pulls gently, silently commanding him to follow her. Harry almost asks where they're going, but he doesn't really need to. He's free to go wherever he pleases now. He'll follow her anywhere.

Ginny looks up at him as they walk towards the double doors. He can still see the embers of her blazing light smouldering in the dark depths of her eyes. He was right, there will be hours, days, and years in which to talk, but he doesn't need her to say a word now to know where she's taking him. He lets her pull him forward, lets her light guide him to a future he's still not sure he deserves to have.

VII. loser of my life

For a while, Ginny thinks she'll never recover from the loss, from the grief and the heartache. It's not the first time she's felt this way, but this time she doesn't have to face it alone. Once she has Harry back, he doesn't leave her side again.

They fall back together naturally. They stitch themselves back together slowly until one day, years later, the sun is blazing brightly in the sky, the pleasant summer breeze is ruffling the grass beneath her feet, and Ginny feels whole again.

“Ready?” Her father asks, holding out his arm out to her.

“Ready,” Ginny agrees, threading her hand through the crook of his elbow. Holding her colourful bouquet of wildflowers in front of her with her free hand.

There have been times, in her darkest moments, when she wished she was someone else. A girl who hasn't dwelt in a darkness that most people don't ever see even in their worst nightmares; a witch who hasn't looked into the eyes of evil and refused to bend, refused to break; a woman who hasn't lost things that can never ever be replaced.

Now, as soft music begins to swell in the summer air, and her gaze locks on Harry, waiting for her at the end of the makeshift aisle formed by the rows of chairs that have been put out in her parent's orchard, Ginny doesn't regret any of it. Everything she's lost is a step she's taken towards this.

She can feel dozens of heads turn towards her, but Ginny only has eyes for Harry, and he, it appears, only has eyes for her. His smile makes the sun look dim in comparison. Still, the corner of his mouth trembles; even from a distance, Ginny can see emotion well up behind his glasses.

‘Don't you dare,' she mouths, feeling her throat tighten as she does. Her arm stretches out, lifting her bouquet like it's a wand, miming hexing him. She's closer now. She can hear the tremor in his laugh as he puts his arms up in mock surrender.

It's too late; the laughter she's coaxed from him doesn't stop the tear that slips down his cheek. Of course, one of her own escapes only a half a second later.

“We look like such losers,” Ginny informs him, shaking her head, as her fingers slip from her father's arm into Harry's awaiting hand.

“Yeah,” Harry agrees, quietly enough for only her to hear. He's still smiling as another tear slides unconcernedly down his face. His free hand reaches up, his thumb swipes away the ones that are currently leaking traitorously from Ginny's eyes. “But you're my loser.”

It takes her a moment to regain her breath. A fleeting second in which she can't quite believe they're here; that they made it. Then she smiles even wider than before. “Not officially – not until we get through this ceremony.”

Harry's gaze holds hers. Ginny almost forgets they have an audience. The world reduces down to just the two of them, grinning madly at one another. Harry's fingers squeeze her hand. “We'd best get on with it then.

VIII. legacy of my life

Books are filled with what many consider to be his finest achievements. Tales of thrilling battles, speculations on unsurvivable curses, and records of great victories are inked across the pages of history.

As are the many titles thrust upon Harry; The Boy Who Lived, Chosen One, Saviour. To him, they're little more than noise, assumptions from people who don't really know him, and never will.

When he slips the wedding ring onto Ginny's finger, Harry gets the first title he's ever chosen for himself: husband. Her husband.

Not long after, he gains another one, this one unplanned, but no less momentous. James, tiny, and so precious, is placed into his arms, and Harry becomes a father.

His real legacy begins there. It's not just his, it's hers too. Their legacy.

It's recorded in baby books and photo albums rather than history books. It's memorialised in finger paintings and handmade Christmas ornaments (made under Ginny's expert supervision) instead of plaques and statues. It's hundreds of little memories of their family that will never see the inside of a newspaper, but that doesn't make them any less noteworthy, not to Harry, who'd never dared to imagine that this life could be his one day.

IX. love of my life

“Dinner!” Her mother calls from the back door of The Burrow, her voice ringing out across the garden.

The sun is setting, dipping below the topmost branches of the orchard. The sky is a tapestry of pinks, purples and golds, stretching out for miles above them.

“What do you think?” Ginny asks as her feet meet the ground, dismounting from her broom. “Could I make it as a pro?”

Harry lands beside her. His eyes sweep appraisingly over her. Ginny's stomach swoops like she's still in the air. “I don't know,” he says thoughtfully. “The League is brutal. It requires rigorous training.”

Ginny shrugs unconcernedly, hoisting her broom onto her shoulder as she does. “Do you know any Quidditch captains who might be interested in helping me with such an undertaking?”

“I know one who might be able to make some time for you this summer,” Harry says as he falls into step beside her. He inclines his head towards her broom.“I can take it for you?”

Ginny's eyes narrow, prepared to tell him she's perfectly capable of carrying her own broom, but, when she turns, the way he's looking at her makes her heart race, and the words die on her tongue. without her permission, her expression transforms into a grin. “Very chivalrous of you.”

A weight is lifted from her as Harry settles her broom beside his on his shoulder. “That's kind of what I'm known for.”

“Only ‘kind of’?” Ginny's eyes wander to the quickly darkening sky above them as she laughs. “In that case, I'll be sure to let people know of this latest act of heroism – personally, I don't think you get enough attention.”

“Well, if that's how you feel, you could always give me more.”

Ginny stops midstep. Her head turns sharply back to Harry. She should keep walking, the words that are on the tip of her tongue will lead to something that neither of them planned for on this particular summer evening.

Harry's eyebrows rise upwards; even in the dusk, Ginny can see the challenge sparking in his eyes. Unbidden, she takes a step towards him. “Are you flirting with me, Potter?”

He doesn't back down, but he doesn't make a move towards her either. The brooms he's holding clatter together as he shrugs with just a bit too much tension in his shoulders to be truly nonchalant. “I might be.”

Ginny's blood thrums in her veins as she takes another step towards him. “Need I remind you that I'm spoken for?”

“How could I forget?” Harry's head lowers despite her reminder, until he's so close Ginny can see the flecks of gold in his green eyes. “I suppose he's deeply in love with you?”

“Yes,” she nods with absolute certainty. “And I feel the same about him.”

Harry's head dips lower, the determination in his eyes making his intention clear. Ginny rises on her tiptoes, unable to fight the pull that always inevitably beckons her to him.

Barely an inch of space remains between them. Her heart flutters wildly–

“Oi!” The loud, obnoxious shout comes from the far end of the orchard, making Ginny jump. She turns towards it and finds a lanky figure glaring at them from where he leans against the fence. “When you're done being disgusting, Nanna says to hurry up – dinner’s ready and the rest of us aren't allowed to start without you.”

James doesn't wait for a response before turning on his heel and marching back towards the house.

Ginny rolls her eyes at her son's retreating back. Her hand slips into Harry's, the most contact they're getting, at least until after dinner. “Remind me again why we had children?”

Harry sighs, allowing her to lead him towards the gate James has just departed from. “You said they'd be cute.”

“Well, they used to be,” she says fairly as she pushes the gate open with her free hand. “I wasn't thinking as far as them becoming teenagers.”

Harry nods seriously. “Really, who could've predicted such an unforeseeable outcome.”

Ginny looks up at him as he follows her through the gate. Brown eyes meet green through the burgeoning twilight. Two identical smiles bloom like flowers in spring.

“Certainly not you, judging by your appalling Divination grades.”

#several sunlit daylights #hinny #harry x ginny #TTPD

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corneliaavenue-ao3 · 2 months

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On April 19th, Taylor Swift's The Tortured Poets Department will be released. However, on Tuesday, April 16th, I will be hosting a mini several sunlit daylights fest (aka taylor swift/hinny fest): The Tortured Potters Department.

This is Taylor's 11th studio album, so the goal is to write 1.1k words or less for this fic. (Or really write as many words as you want, ive already written more than this).

The prompts are the song titles of the album.

Fortnight

The Tortured Poets Department

My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys

Down Bad

So Long, London

But Daddy I Love Him

Fresh Out the Slammer

Florida!!!

Guilty as Sin?

Who's Afraid of Little Old Me?

I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can)

loml

I Can Do It With A Broken Heart

The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived

The Alchemy

Clara Bow

Post your fics on April 16th, tag me, tag #severalsunlitdaylights

and please reblog this and tell your friends

#hinny #ginny weasley #harry potter #hp #harry x ginny #severalsunlitdaylights #several sunlit daylights #ttpd #harry #ginny #potter #taylor swift

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ginnyw-potter · 15 days

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I can fix him (No really I can)

This is written for The Tortured Potters Department, also part of the Several Sunlit Daylights Challenge! @corneliaavenue-ao3 Read below or on AO3

I can fix him.

Ginny could see other people think it, sometimes they said it out loud. Not literally, but they said it all the same.

I can make you happy.

I can make you forget all your troubles.

I can make the scars fade.

They very well could. They all looked at Harry and saw a man in need of change. They wanted to fix the scars, inside and out. They wanted to take him on adventures and make him forget all the things he had gone through. They wanted to placate him. They wanted to chase the nightmares away and replace them with wonderful dreams. Some others wanted him to embrace his fame for once, or rise to power, be the man they thought he could be.

Ginny looked at him and saw someone she already loved.

She didn’t try to make him happy.

She didn’t try to make him forget all his troubles.

She didn’t mind the scars, the way he didn’t mind hers.

She loved on the scars the way she loved on the rest of his body. They were marks of his past, of the things he had been through, not things to hide or be ashamed of. Their existence didn’t scare her.

She knew he didn’t need an adventure, didn’t need to escape his life. He didn’t want to forget his loved ones, dead and alive. He spoke of enjoying time in the garden, and long walks enjoying the setting sun. Some things that some people may find terribly mundane, but it meant everything to him. They didn’t understand why it was important to him.

His temper was difficult for people to deal with, but Ginny always met him with equal power. She did not back off, and she wasn’t afraid to tell him the truth. She didn’t need to placate him, she needed to push back and meet him in the middle.

When he had a nightmare, she didn’t tell him it wasn’t real. She held him and sat with him until he felt better. They would talk about it and mull it over and let out bitter laughs over their misery. The nightmares followed a long time after the war was done, and she’d be there to work through them. Slowly but surely, tirelessly.

She didn’t want him to embrace his fame and attend event after event, knowing how it would torture him. She didn’t want him to grab power he never wanted. He did not crave it, he did not go looking for it, and she did not expect it of him.

Harry never asked to be changed. He didn’t need to become a new person, didn’t need to escape his life. He held onto the memories of lost loved ones and honoured their memory every day. He did not want the fame, or the power. And on most days, he just wanted to be normal.

But that’s not what people expect of him. They can fix him, or at least that’s what they think.

She did not need to fix him. Some scars never faded but they did not hurt him. Having his own home and settling him brought him peace. It gave him a place to come into his own and grieve the people he had lost. Sometimes it was the simple things, like hanging a framed picture up in the living room or making their favourite food. A place where he could be himself, where he wasn’t worried and where his emotions could flow freely. A place where the nightmares got soothed by comforting arms and softly spoken words, a cup of hot cocoa or a refreshing glass of water. And they could exist, and be talked about, and it would help him. A place where no one expected him to take the lead and have an answer to every question.

He spoke to her, softly whispered confessions in the middle of the night. She held him, and he kissed her softly.

“You make me so happy.”

She carded her fingers through his hair.

“You make me forget all my troubles without even trying,” he sighed. “You make me feel at peace.”

She pressed a kiss against his temple.

“You helped me love all of my scars.”

He never needed to change. She always loved him, flaws and all. Time healed many things, and she was there for it all, but he was never something to be fixed.

I can fix him , she thought. No, really; I can. It was never my intention; I would have loved him all the same.

“You fixed me.”

She shook her head and smiled at him. “I love you.”

He looked at her fondly and pulled her a little closer. “I am pretty sure that’s the same thing.”

#several sunlit daylights #the tortured potters department #hinny #fic

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takearisk-xo · 9 months

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written for #severalsunlitdaylights & @corneliaavenue-ao3!! day 1: taylor swift (debut)

Harry had no idea how he let himself end up in this very specific nightmare of a situation. The last thing he wanted was for Ginny’s arm to be draped around his neck as he half-walked, half-carried her back to her flat on the other side of campus.

His only justification, was that Ron had been otherwise occupied by a some girl he knew from class. While he'd been snogging her in the corner, Harry had to watch as Ginny nearly fell off of her chair attempting to out drink some footballer, who had eighty pounds and a full twelve inches on her. After that his path forward seemed pretty clear. Despite his aversion to it.

So, there he was, traipsing across the quad with the barely conscious object of his infernal infatuation tripping along beside him.

"Any particular reason," he began lightly, ignoring the way her head rested against his shoulder, "tonight was the night you decided to drink yourself to death?"

She sighed and stumbled over her toes. "Jusabitofun..."

"Oh, yeah?" Harry adjusted his grip around her waist. "Face down in a toilet is fun for you?"

"Plesss," she slurred. "I haven't been pissed sick since '96."

"And how long have you been speaking in couplets?"

She cackled, and the sound echoed off the stone buildings on either side of them. "You think you're so funny."

"No," Harry replied. "Just sober."

Ginny booed, loudly, and he had to clap a hand over her mouth to keep her outburst from waking up the entire fucking city. In his effort to keep her quiet, he pulled to a stop and they now stood in the damp yellow light of street lamp, two blocks from their destination.

"Christ, Ginny," he cursed. "What's gotten into you?"

She stared up at him and mumbled something behind his palm. He hoped she was inebriated enough that she didn't notice the way his breath caught the longer their gazes held.

Harry dropped his hand. "What was that?"

"I ditched Dean tonight."

His stomach did a violent swoop through his middle and Harry swallowed down the sudden tightness in the back of his throat.

"Why?"

Ginny shrugged, her eyes darting away from his face and into the middle distance. "Never felt right. Not all the way, at least. Not like it's supposed to."

Harry didn't really have a response to this, but he couldn't look away from her either. In an instant, her carefree and impetuous demeanor was shadowed by a profound misery.

Then he realized he was staring, so he cleared his throat and skirted his glance away.

"He's a good bloke, Dean," she continued absentmindedly, as Harry led her into a few measured steps down the sidewalk. "But I never felt like I was all the way myself with him. I wasn't ever just... me. D'ya know what I mean?"

"M-Maybe," he stammered. "Er–Sure..."

Snorting, Ginny placed her hand over where his palm rest against her ribs. "And when do you feel most like yourself?"

When I'm with you.

"I dunno," he said instead, fundamentally mortified by the gut reply that had almost clawed its way out at her question.

"I think it's when I'm on the pitch," she hummed, her eyes dropping shut as they meandered ever closer to Cairncross.

Harry didn't have a response to this, or at least, he kept his mouth firmly shut for fear of what he might blurt out if he didn't.

Eventually, they approached Ginny's building. He simultaneously felt bereft and relieved as she shuffled out of his grasp and up her front steps. She pressed incessantly at her and Hermione's buzzer until the door hummed and the lock clicked.

"Thanks for walking me," she hummed, holding the door open and staring down at him with a soft smile.

Harry smirked back. "Think you'll make it up the stairs?"

"Only one way to find out." With one last grin, she turned on her heel and let the door begin to shut behind her.

Harry had a split second to make his decision, and impulse won as her earlier explanation pounded out a rhythm in the base of his skull.

I ditched Dean. I ditched Dean. I ditched Dean.

"Hey, Ginny!" he called, only a few inches of space left before the door could close all the way.

She reappeared, the light of the hall spilling out behind her.

Harry stood dumbstruck and silent as she watched him in mild curiosity.

"I–" he struggled uselessly. "I'm–"

"No, wait–" she interjected, her eyes wide and the quirk to her lips expectant. He couldn't quite explain it in the moment, but the expression on her face told him, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she knew exactly what he'd been about to say. "Will you do me a favor?"

Harry's exhale shuddered on its way out. "Sure?"

Ginny beamed at him, and he felt it like a lance of sunlight straight through his sternum. "Tell me tomorrow?"

Something inside his chest cracked open; soaring, galloping hope seared its way through his blood stream.

She tilted her head to the side, resting it against the door jamb. "Because I want to remember this."

"Yeah, okay. Tomorrow."

Harry chuckled as she disappeared back inside, contemplating what exactly defined tomorrow, and if it would hurt his chances if he showed up on her doorstep sometime around sun-up.

Probably. But Harry figured if he brought along a bag of pastries, that just might make up for it.

#severalsunlitdaylights #several sunlit daylights #hinny #my fic #corneliaavenue

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honeydukesheroine · 9 months

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Holy Ground 🍃🎓🌤️

Another installment of #SeveralSunlitDaylights and for @corneliaavenue-ao3!

“Remember the first time we came here?” Ginny asked, swaying on the spot, making the long black graduation robes swirl on the ground around her. She tilted her head lazily to the side, reminiscing up at the brilliantly blue sky. Harry watched the movement of her hair as it cascaded down to the small of her back, almost golden in the light.

She turned to look at him, hand still clutching George’s flask to her shoulder, impatient for him to answer.

“Yeah,” Harry said. “I was so nervous.” He looked around the sturdy wooden bench, where he now sat watching her. Appreciating the rocky hidden path, the wild overgrown leaves and scattering of purple flowers that framed the view of the lake.

“I could tell,” she snickered, crinkling her nose the way she always did when teasing him.

Harry smiled up at her, “You were worse than me.” She rolled her eyes and opened her mouth to retort, but caught her foot on a root that sent her stumbling backwards. He reflexively reached for her hand to steady her, pulling her close. Through it all, she’d managed to save the contents of the flask.

“Dance with me,” she demanded, but her voice was soft, breath smelled like Firewhiskey.

“You know I don’t dance.”

She giggled gently, “Not according to the Ministry Newsletter, Christmas Edition of 1998.” She leaned her whole body weight into his chest, resting her head on his shoulder. His arms wrapped snuggly around her waist, breathing her in, he allowed himself to instinctively match her rhythm. “I came here a lot this year… and last year,” she said after a while.

He’d known that it had all been on her mind that day, saying goodbye. Even through her outward insistence that she “could leave and give two fucks if I ever came back.” He knew it wasn’t that simple. That’s why he’d helped her knick George’s flask.

“I know.”

They continued to sway, the warmth of the sun surrounding them. This had been their spot.

But now it was one of their spots, he reminded her. Along with the little stone bridge not far from the Burrow, that greasy pub she loved so much in Muggle London, that secret beach along the coast they could only reach by broom.

But really, he knew that his spot was wherever she was.

#several sunlit daylights #Only gave myself an hour to do this #trying to write faster!#harrypotter fanfiction #hinny microfic #missing moments #post war #hinny #ginny weasley #harry potter

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roses-red-and-pink · 9 months

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@corneliaavenue-ao3 Several Sunlit Daylights.

Aug 5: 1989

Wonderland

We found Wonderland

You and I got lost in it

And we pretended it could last forever (eh, eh)

We found Wonderland

You and I got lost in it

And life was never worse but never better

- Taylor Swift, Wonderland

Harry’s mind wandered a long way from the marquee, back to afternoons spent alone with Ginny in lonely parts of the school grounds. They seemed so long ago; they had always seemed to good to be true, as though he had been stealing shining hours from a normal persons life…

- Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, pg 115-116.

But there were strangers watching

And whispers turned to talking

And talking turned to screams

- Taylor Swift, Wonderland

“Think how much danger you’ll be in if we keep this up. He’ll know, he’ll find out. He’ll try to get to me through you. “

“What if I don’t care?” Said Ginny fiercely.

“I care,” said Harry.

- Harry Potter and the half blood prince, pg 538

I reached for you, but you were gone

I knew I had to go back home

You searched the world for something else

To make you feel like what we had

And in the end, in Wonderland

We both went mad

- Taylor Swift, Wonderland

Side note: 1989 is probably my second fave album after Lover. And Hinny is my favourite couple in all of fiction. So I wanted to do something for this week. Enjoy my drawings and collection of quotes from the song and the books. Also: didn’t you flash your green eyes at me?!??!! Is so Hinny coded, but couldn’t find a way to work that into this sequence.

#hinny #several sunlit daylights #Harry Potter #I don’t usually do fandom stuff on here but #it’s Taylor Swift and Harry/ginny #so congrats all my followers you get to see a glimpse of my obsession

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thenicestthingiveseen · 14 days

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I Can Do It With a Broken Heart // playlist

fic 1 of 2 for @corneliaavenue-ao3's The Tortured Potters Department (Several Sunlit Daylights Version)

We're starting off pretty depressing.

#hinny #writing #fic #several sunlit daylights #i want everyone to make a big deal about the word count be 1113

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tomjamesavery · 14 days

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Adapted and re-wrote one of my drabbles, since it fit so nicely for @corneliaavenue-ao3 's Taylor Swift Several Sunlit Daylights Fest, with the prompt: "4. Down Bad" Read on: AO3 Harry felt possibly scandalous, as he was sneaking up the little winding gravel road that led to the Burrow. It was eleven pm on a warm July night while the moon and stars were lighting his way on this clear, cloudless evening.

It was quiet, except for some crickets and his footsteps on the gravel no sounds disturbed the evening peace. Bathing in nature's beauty he relished the nightly atmosphere bestowed on him. Feeling confident under the moon's silvery gown he paced up his steps, now skipping up the little shallow hill toward tonight's goal. The little rustical six-storied Wizarding cottage known as the Burrow.

But he wasn’t here for the architecture, if you could even name it that. He was here for something else, someone else. A flame in the dark, his burning light, the love of his life, Ginny.

After a few more minutes he finally arrived at the old building, now simply brandishing his wand, and out of thin air a tall wooden ladder appeared, leaning against the window frame on the third floor. He had a plan.

He climbed up his freshly conjured walkway, trying not to make any more noise than necessary, it was at the end of the day in the middle of the night, and the last thing he wanted, was to wake up the entirely Weasley Clan. Not that he didn’t like them, quite the opposite, he loved them, they were his second family in all but blood, but tonight he was only here for one of them, for her alone.

He finally reached the last step, his eyes now on the same height as the window, he knew she was waiting in there, as it had been her idea for him to come here tonight in the first place.

So he raised his right hand, trying to still keep his balance as he knocked on the thin glass window, three times, just as they had agreed on, not that it was of any importance, no one else would knock on a third-floor window in the middle of the night in a safe quiet little neighbourhood.

He waited for a second, trying to keep still, even holding his breath so as to not sway too much on the flimsy wooden ladder.

Suddenly the window opened, catching Harry off guard as he stared into the chocolatey dark brown eyes of Ginny who was now sticking her flushed freckled face out of the window, kissing him on the lips sweetly before he could form a single thought in his head.

It was like a million fireworks went off at once, the whole world seemingly coming to a standstill around just the two of them, and Harry felt like he could levitate.

Only that he couldn’t, quite the opposite, he wasn’t levitating, he was falling… …HE WAS FALLING. And before his mind could catch up with what was happening the last thing he heard was a loud muffled scream as he forcefully crashed into a tall rose bush feeling the little thorns violently scrape at his skin he roughly landed on the wet cool dirt, the bush luckily feathering the worst of the fall.

“Harry! Are you alright?” He heard Ginny’s voice so full of worry, somewhere in the back of his head.

He groaned, lifting himself up to his knees, his ears ringing, everything hurt, but in a way, he knew none of the injuries were overly serious, he had gotten off lucky.

He felt tender hands grasp at his shoulders, pulling him up. So he lifted his head and looked into his girlfriend's worried eyes, they were wide open as she checked him over it seemed she barely recognised him for the bruises on his face.

“Harry, did you break something, where does it hurt, oh baby I am so sorry!” The words stumbled from Ginny’s mouth as she seemed plagued by guilt and worry.

“It wasn’t your fault Gin…” He whispered. “I guess I just…” He simply was at a loss for words at her stunning beauty, making Ginny giggle. “You truly are down bad, literally!” But her expression changed to one of worry again. “That doesn’t mean that I am not scared though, are you really alright?”

But Harry didn’t want to worry her, if he wasn’t such a fool, he wouldn't have fallen in the first place, so he forced himself to his feet, pulling a gasping Ginny flush against his body, before simply kissing her deeply, all the pain in his body subsiding, becoming a mere afterthought, an anecdote buried under the mass of their blossoming love.

Ginny quickly melted into him, after her surprise had yielded to burning passion, she kissed him back with such force, he felt like an electrical current of pure light was flowing through them, connecting them, their magic dancing through each other's hearts as it harmonised their bodies, entangling their souls. They were one.

And as time stood still, neither of them noticed how the rose buds around them opened, blossoming into fire-red roses, growing under their light, spurred by their magic.

After they finally pulled apart, no scratch, no bruise, and no injury was left on Harry’s radiating body, mended through their unyielding love, where their magic had connected at once.

He knew their love would prevail over their pain, always and forever.

#ginny weasley #hinny #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry x ginny #fluff #several sunlit daylights #the tortured potters department #fic

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nena-96 · 14 days

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Here’s another Hinny fic for @corneliaavenue-ao3

The Tortured Potter’s Department

Clara Bow <- ao3 or read below!

Fluffy/humor

Harry was not a jealous bloke.

Alright, fine! Maybe he was jealous but who wouldn’t be?

His wife of three years was currently talking to the new rising Quidditch Seeker, of the HolyHead Harpies…..Clara Bow.

Before you say anything, he wasn’t jealous that Ginny was talking to Bow. Please, he was a better Seeker than Bow, if you asked him.

Alright, fine, so maybe he never helped win the Quidditch Word Cup, but that’s just because he torn his ACL and decided to become the DADA professor at Hogwarts. Which in his opinion was a much better career than being a seeker for Quidditch.

He’s changing the lives of his students, dammit! It wasn’t like he was out on the field or in this case at the Quidditch Awards Gala trying to steal someone’s wife, like little Miss Bow.

Clara Bow. What type of name is that? His name was much cooler than Bow. What kind of name is that? Does it mean she’s going to bow out the Gala and away from flirting with his Ginny?

He wasn’t blind….well he did have bad eyesight but even he could see that the seeker was trying to seek his wife’s attention all night! It had absolutely nothing to do with Quidditch at all, and everything to do with how beautiful Ginny looked in that backless red dress that she had on.

Fuck.

He shouldn’t remind himself how good she looks in that dress. It definitely wasn’t the time or the place to have his little (not so little, thank you very much) “Potter” pop up, as if it was asking, “is she close by?”

He needed to focus on something other than the constellation of freckles that his wife, Ginny had

all over her back. It was easier said than done, because at this very moment Clara Bow walked up to his wife, and had the audacity to place her hand in the center of her back.

Oh, did he mention that Ginny is his wife? If not, he should probably head down and remind Bow to keep her pesky little claws away from Mrs Potter. Except that wouldn’t be a wise move, since there were too many reporters here and he didn’t want to be featured on the front page of the Daily Prophet.

The-Boy-Who-Lived lost his wife to

HolyHead Harpie Seeker Clara Bow?

(read the exclusive on page 13)

That's the last thing he wanted, which is why he was by the bar, nursing a glass of Firewhiskey. When suddenly he heard a growling sound, it was odd. He placed his glass on the bar counter and turned his head to try and hear where that noise was coming from. Except, all he saw was other Quidditch players chatting amongst one another.

It was strange he could have sworn he heard a growling noise…..fuck it was him. To be more specific it was his ‘‘chest monster.’

In the words of his wise best mate, Ron Weasley, who also happened to be his best man for his wedding….Bloody Hell!

All this time he thought he had control over that monster that lurked inside him. He never felt this was before in years, and it was all thanks to-

“Harry! There you are, I wanted you to meet Clara Bow. She’s fantastic, truly one of the best seekers to have ever lived.”

Best seeker to ever live? In what world because not in this one?

Harry turned and saw both Ginny and Bow standing in front of him. Quickly he gave a fake smile as he lifted up his hand to shake Bow’s. “Oh, yes. Miss Bow it’s a…pleasure to meet you, I can’t say that I’ve seen you play before.” He grimaced the moment he let go of her hand.

That was a bold faced lie, because she was literally on the same team as his wife.

“Oh! That’s uhm, alright.” Clara laughed a bit awkwardly as if to diffuse the tension that was now clouding all around them. “Maybe you’ll be able to catch the game?”

“Yes, that would be great,” he said while trying to avoid the knowing look that Ginny was sending his way.

#Hinny #several sunlit daylights #the tortured potters department #Ginny Weasley #Harry Potter #Ginny x Harry #Harry x Ginny #nena writes #humor

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briarpotter · 14 days

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But Daddy, I Love Him

Written for The Tortured Potters Department @corneliaavenue-ao3 Read here, or on Ao3.

1986

She snuggled into her pillow, seeking the comforting warmth of her bed. It was a dark night, the weather thundering and stormy. Her father was in her room, sitting on a chair, next to her bed, telling her a story about how this little boy, not much older than her, defeated this dark wizard.

She watched in fascination and excitement as her father gestured with his hands wildly. A roar sounded. She jumped, and clutched her teddy bear more securely. Arthur chuckled. “It’s alright. It’s just some thunder.” She relaxed slightly, still recovering from the fright of the loud sound.

“There was a boy named Harry Potter. He conquered the darkest wizard there was; Lord Voldemort.” Arthur began. She grinned at her father. “Lord Voldemort did some terrible things, killing anyone who stood in his way to power. He was ruthless; yet cunning and ambitious. But you know?” He narrated. “What?” She asked curiously. “A little baby, just over a year old, managed to defeat him. His name, was Harry.”

She noticed that her father had a relieved smile on his face when he said this. She resolved then and there, that she would marry this boy. Anyone who could make her father smile deserved her love. She grinned at him, and he grinned back.

He sighed. “You should forget I told you this. Your mother would kill me if she found out. She still thinks all of you are too young to know about the war, but with the way it’s going, I think you should know in advance.” He said. “But Daddy, I love him!” She exclaimed. His eyes softened before he shook his head. Standing up, he pushed his chair back, and moved towards the door.

“Get some sleep, baby girl. Goodnight, love.” He called. “Goodnight, daddy.” She called at his retreating back, conflicted about what he said. She shrugged, snuggling into the warm sheets, her teddy bear comforting her on this dark stormy night.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

1st September, 2001

Arthur let himself outside, feeling shocked and a little bit teary. His daughter was getting married today. She was only 20, and she was already getting married. He liked Harry, not to get him wrong, but seeing his baby getting married hurt. She was all grown up. She didn’t need him anymore, not like she used to.

He went to see Ginny in her room, where she was getting ready for the day. In a few hours, he would be walking her down the aisle, and giving her away. His eyes brimmed with tears as they landed on her. She was a vision, even though she wasn’t fully ready yet. She was still doing her hair and makeup, and was yet to get in her dress. She smiled at him when he entered.

He gave her a watery smile in return, causing her to frown. She stopped her hairdresser, got up and followed her father outside. “What’s wrong, daddy?” She asked. His heart warmed when she called him daddy. “You haven’t called me that since you were 8.” Her eyes softened. “I love you, daddy.” His lips curved.

“Are you sure you want to get married so young? You have your entire life out in front of you.” He said. She smiled at him. “But daddy, I love him! And I want to spend that life with Harry. I want to take his name, be his wife, and be the mother of his children.” He smiled sadly at her. Realization crosses her face. “You’ll always have me daddy. You won’t lose me, y’know? I’m still here.” She said. He kissed the top of her head, smiled at her, and kissed her forehead. All was well.

#harry potter #hp fandom #hp #ginny weasley #hinny #harry and ginny #harry potter fandom #harry x ginny #ttpd #ttpd era #several sunlit daylights

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starlingflight · 14 days

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Guilty As Sin?

A/N: this is (extremely) mildly NSFW.

Dedicated to loml @merlinsbudgiesmugglers without her, I wouldn't have written it.

For @corneliaavenue-ao3 TTPD fest, I hereby conduct into evidence one very tortured Potter.

Read on AO3 or below:

It wasn’t unusual for him to find Ginny already there when Harry returned home from work. Her training schedule typically finished a few hours before he left the office. Normally, upon arriving home, he found her in the living room, pouring over the latest issue of Quidditch Times, or, if the weather was good, in the garden, flying like she hadn't spent her entire day doing that very thing. Harry did not, as a general rule, come home to find Ginny in their rarely-used dining room, leaning against the wooden table with a thin dragon-hide wallet clutched in her hands.

The smile that had automatically bloomed on Harry's face at the prospect of seeing Ginny quickly morphed into a frown as he inclined his head at the object in her hand. “What are you doing with that?”

“This?” Ginny didn't look the least perturbed by his expression as she held the wallet up, letting it fall open for Harry's inspection. “Like my badge, do you?”

“It's not your badge.” He felt a smirk tug at one corner of his lips, but Harry forced it down, intrigued to see what purpose she'd apparently pickpocketed him without his notice for.

“Of course it is,” Ginny pushed off the table, coming to stand directly in front of him. She held the badge up to his face, conveniently covering Harry's picture with her thumb, so that only the Ministry seal and his name were visible. “See, it says Potter, last I checked, that was my name – now, take a seat, I'm trying to conduct a very serious investigation.”

She pulled out the closest chair and directed Harry into it before he had an opportunity to protest. He watched, from his new seat, simultaneously confused and curious, as Ginny made her way around the table, trailing a finger slowly across the wooden surface before she took the chair directly across from him.

“What seems to be the matter, Auror Potter?” He heard himself ask. Ginny gave him an approving nod, as though he'd just perfectly delivered a line from a script he hadn't known he was reading.

Then her eyebrows pinched together in a look of extreme concern. “I'm sorry to tell you, there's been a murder committed in this house –” the pronouncement was accompanied by a wink that was obviously meant to allay the tension that gathered within Harry upon hearing it. “Geraldine is dead.”

A strong wave of relief rushed through him, quickly receding, giving way to yet more confusion. “Geraldine?” he repeated. “Geraldine the Fanged Geranium?”

The monstrosity of a plant had been gifted to them by Percy; Harry had hated it since the moment it had entered the house, its fangs barred menacingly at anyone who dared look at it. Ginny, on the other hand, in a display of surprisingly Hagrid-like behaviour had been enchanted by the horrid thing and had decided, inexplicably, to name it Geraldine.

“Yes,” Ginny confirmed. “I found her on the kitchen windowsill this afternoon – her leaves were drooping and her petals had fallen off – someone hadn't watered her.”

Harry tried very hard to maintain an innocent expression under the weight of her accusatory glare. “Maybe she's not dead, maybe she's sleeping.”

This suggestion was met by a deeply unimpressed look from Ginny which might have been believable if not for the crease at the corner of her mouth, which Harry knew meant she was trying not to laugh. “Plants don't sleep, Harry.”

“I thought you were an Auror, not an expert Herbologist?”

The crease deepened. “I have many talents.”

“Apparently not keeping plants alive.”

Ginny's eyes narrowed and Harry regretted the comment almost at once. She pushed out of her seat and crossed back around the table, looking down at him as she leant on the wooden surface beside him. “I didn't kill her… you didn't water her.”

“Yes, I did,” Harry protested.

Her arms folded over her chest. “Prove it.”

“That's not how it works,” Harry said through a laugh as he shook his head. “You're accusing me of something, you either need to get me to confess or you have to prove it.”

Unexpectedly, upon hearing this simplified explanation of the justice system, Ginny's smile finally broke free. There was a hint of triumph in it that made Harry's nerves stand on end.

Her hand slid against the smooth surface of the table as she lowered herself until her face was beside his, her lips almost brushing against his ear. “I guess I'll have to get you to confess then.”

Her breath caressed his skin as she spoke. Harry fought against the shiver that tried to creep down his spine. “Good luck with that.”

“Oh, I don't need luck,” Ginny said, sliding closer so that Harry was forced to push his chair back, giving her room to sit on the table directly in front of him. “I have plenty of powers of persuasion.”

Harry snorted in disbelief. “None that would be considered regulation.”

“Maybe not, but I play by my own rules.” As though to prove her point, she extended one of her legs, her toe sliding idly up the inside of Harry's calf. Her head tilted to the side; a wave of vivid red hair cascaded over her shoulder. “Now, are you going to cooperate or do I have to use force?”

Ginny's foot glided past his knee, towards his thigh; Harry inhaled sharply. His eyes met hers across the small distance that separated them and he could see the challenge she'd issued sparking with them. “I think you're going to have to use force.”

“That's a shame,” Ginny sighed as she pushed off the table, though everything about her languid movements suggested that was exactly what she'd wanted him to say. Her hand came to rest on the back of Harry's chair, supporting her as she leaned into him. He could feel the heat radiating from her body, so close but not actually touching him. “I was really hoping to put this case to bed.”

Harry kept his eyes locked on the bare stretch of wall over Ginny's shoulder, determined to ignore the three buttons she'd left open on her shirt, and the view it offered him from this particular angle as much as he was ignoring the insinuation in her words. “Sorry to disappoint you.”

Undeterred, Ginny hummed quietly. Her free hand reached up, fingertips finding Harry's chin and forcing his eyes to meet hers again. The heat he saw building in them seemed to transfer to his blood which scorched in his veins. “Why make this harder than it needs to be?”

Her fingers trailed from his jaw to his neck, stroking lightly across his skin. Harry swallowed beneath her fingertips.

His hands gripped the arms of his chair, knuckles turning white, determined not to give her the satisfaction of touching her despite how desperately he wanted to. “Is this how you think interrogations work?”

She moved in closer, all but straddling him on the dining room chair. The tip of her nose brushed against Harry's cheek, her fingers wove up into his hair; his eyes fell closed at the contact. “I'm the Auror, I'll be doing the questioning.” The statement was punctuated by her teeth scraping against the shell of his ear.

His resolve snapped in an instant; Harry's hands left the arms of his chair, finding Ginny's hips instead. He pulled her to him, until her body was settled flush against his. Her mouth was still at his ear, her lips grazing over it, but Harry was rewarded for the bold move by a small sigh that escaped her before she could stop it.

“Really?” He asked doubtfully, his hand slipping beneath the hem of her shirt, fingers dancing over her skin. “Because you haven't actually asked me any.”

Momentarily silent, Ginny's back arched into Harry's touch, guiding his hand further up towards her chest. She released another sigh directly into his ear. Harry bit his lip against a responding groan.

“Did you forget to water the stupid plant?” she asked, her tone confirming what Harry had always suspected; she didn't have the patience to be an Auror.

“If I confess, are you going to show me leniency?” he aimed for an amused tone, but Ginny's hips rolled against him as he spoke and his words came out audibly strained.

That small hint of weakness from him was enough for Ginny to regain some of her composure. Her smile was downright sinful as she pulled back from his neck, pausing with her face barely an inch from his. Her lips brushed softly against his as she spoke, “I never have before… but why don't you try it and see?”

Ignoring the suggestion, Harry surged forward, determined to turn her frustratingly light movements into a real kiss, but Ginny leaned back out of his reach. Her tongue darted out, licking against her maddeningly out of reach lips. One of her eyebrows quirked upwards, the gesture a silent command.

He hesitated for a moment, weighing his options, his gaze caught on Ginny's glistening mouth.

A second was all she allowed. One of her hands disentangled from his hair; her fingers slid down his neck, caressing against a spot beneath his ear where they both knew he particularly liked her mouth. “Of course, if this isn't working for me, I can try other, less physical methods to–”

“Guilty.”

Tne word burst from him before Harry could stop it. He couldn't really remember what he was confessing to anymore. He didn't care as long as Ginny was moving back towards him as she was currently doing, her sultry smile suggesting that he'd made the correct choice in letting her win this one. If this was the punishment –

“I'm definitely guilty.”

#hinny #harry x ginny #several sunlit daylights

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