frankly harry james potter using the cruciatus curse and spitting bars like "i see what bellatrix meant. you need to really mean it." with absolute z e r o remorse is not talked about enough.
One Nice Bug Per Day
sheepfilms

@theartofmadeline
taylor price
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
Game of Thrones Daily
No title available
AnasAbdin
Not today Justin
ojovivo
Misplaced Lens Cap
Sweet Seals For You, Always

Kaledo Art

Love Begins

Discoholic 🪩

#extradirty
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸

Kiana Khansmith
Sade Olutola
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from Taiwan

seen from United States
seen from Uzbekistan
seen from Malaysia

seen from United States
seen from United Arab Emirates
seen from Guatemala
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Malaysia
seen from Lithuania

seen from United States

seen from Ireland
seen from Malaysia

seen from Germany

seen from Türkiye
seen from Brazil
seen from Kyrgyzstan
@madhulika18
frankly harry james potter using the cruciatus curse and spitting bars like "i see what bellatrix meant. you need to really mean it." with absolute z e r o remorse is not talked about enough.
For today? A colored sketch of Hinny kissing
Tomorrow? Who knows…
Second First Kiss
Written for @hinnymicrofic day 10: Flower
Read on AO3
Their second first kiss could have been a reprise of their first, full of flying emotions and blazing looks. She could have raced across the room and thrown herself into his arms as the dawn light streamed through the windows of the Great Hall.
But her heart, already bruised from the insurmountable losses of the night, had fallen to pieces at the sight of him in Hagrid’s arms. And now it felt too large and too fragile all at once, so she allowed him to be swept away by others. He was here, he was alive, and for now, that was enough.
Their second first kiss could have been in the Gryffindor Common Room. In front of the dying embers of the fire as they silently held each other with too many things to say and no words to say them. He has missed her. More than he allowed himself to admit. And he wants to tell her. He wants to tell her all of it. But Fred, and Remus, and Tonks, and Colin and all of the others who were lost. Lost fighting his fight. They fill the room, fill every room he tries to escape to. And with them there, there is no place for second first kisses.
But surrounded by the flowery scent of her, the ghosts give him space. They don’t fade, he doesn’t know if they ever will, but he feels like he can breathe. So he holds her close, and for the first time in months, sleep comes easily.
Their second first kiss takes longer than either of them expected. First, there are the funerals, day after day of black robes. Harry attends every single one, the ghosts pressing in around him until Ginny’s hand presses against his, and the ghosts give him space again.
It’s harder to talk than either of them thought it would be. The words to describe what they each went through aren’t there.
But slowly, piece by piece, they struggle through together. The ghosts are still there for both of them, but slowly they grow quieter. Slowly they leave space for something other than grief.
Their second first kiss finally happens just before Harry’s eighteenth birthday. They’ve escaped to the orchard, Ginny has been picking wildflowers, threading the delicate stems through his hair, knowing that he will never stop her. With her face close to his, it’s the easiest thing in the world for Harry to close the gap.
Their second first kiss is nothing like their first. It’s soft, familiar. It feels like coming home.
They’re both smiling when they part. Ginny leans her forehead against his. ‘Took you long enough, Potter.’
Harry laughs softly and closes the distance between them again. He doesn’t make her wait for their second second kiss.
Dragons and Flowers
Ginny knew that the fire that warmed her inside was the result of the dragon's blood coursing through her veins; it warmed her on the coldest nights, made her not fear the flames of hot coals, painted the strands of her hair, eyelashes and eyebrows as an eternal reminder of where she came from and who protected her.
But the heat she felt when she saw him, she was sure it wasn't because of her family.
READ MORE ON AO3
because talking about marriage makes me want to write about it :)
----
Harry was very, very, very happy.
And drunk, really, really, really drunk.
He collapsed onto the bed, grinning from ear to ear, still wearing his black velvet suit with gold buttons and a tie the exact color of Ginny's hair; a mixture of orange, gold, red and brown that formed a unique color that only his tie had.
Ginny, also very very very drunk was still wearing her dress, so beautiful, perfect, and looking like a goddess walking around the room, her hair down, no gloves, wearing the ring they had bought together and which had his name engraved inside and their wedding date.
It was the happiest day of his life.
''I love you,'' he said, helping her sit on top of him since with the dress she had to be careful not to rip the tulle or whatever that fabric was called. ''I love you more than my life.''
''I love you too,'' Ginny laced her fingers through his, her ring touching his. Harry laughed out loud, not knowing if he wanted to cry with emotion or smile.
''I so wanted us to have our wedding night, but I'm so drunk, I'm sorry,'' She laughed too, throwing her head back before looking at him again, lying on top of him and kissing him all over his face, marking him with red lipstick.
Harry didn't care at all.
''Don't worry, all I want to do is sleep too. I'm too drunk to be able to concentrate on doing a good job in bed today… But tomorrow...'' She left the proposal in the air, floating between them.
''Yes, tomorrow I don't want to see anyone but you,'' Harry kissed her, and again, and again, and again. ''I love you.''
''I love you much more.''
Supporting his every step.
ON PURPOSE, I'M GOING TO LOVE YOU ON PURPOSE
Jenny Slate // Casey McQuiston, Red, White & Royal Blue // Pleiades, Anne Carson // Taylor Jenkins Reid, The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo // @oriley42 and @earth167 (and a half) on Tumblr // Jodi Picoult from The Book Of Two Ways // The Night Vale, Episode 100, The Toast // Adam Melchor, I Choose You // Kierston White, The Chaos of Stars
True love is cruel
Harry's head was in Ginny's lap. They were in a quiet corner by the lake enjoying the weather before it got too cold to enjoy time outside. Harry was thoroughly enjoying the lack of impending doom in his final year at Hogwarts.
"Huh," Harry said in surprise as he read a paragraph in the book he was holding.
Ginny's fingers stopped playing with his hair for a moment to look at him. "What?"
"Did you know that true love is real?" he asked her curiously.
"Why wouldn't it be?" she responded.
"Well, I figured it was one of those Muggle fairytale things that aren't actually true. Pumpkins turning into carriages, cursed spinning wheels, fairy godmothers…" Harry trailed off.
"Do you sometimes just forget you're a wizard?" Ginny replied.
Harry's eyes moved from the book to her face. "Oh, yeah."
Ginny shook her head in amusement.
Harry's eyes focused back on the book. "Do you think we have it?"
Ginny chuckled. "True love? That's like the rarest piece of magic you can find, what makes you think you could have it?"
Harry looked back at her with a smug smile. "I seem to come by rare pieces of magic rather easily."
"Right, forgot who I was talking to for a minute. Oh you Chosen One," Ginny teased him.
"Don't." Harry warned her. He closed the book and put it down beside him.
"Can I be honest with you?" Ginny asked.
Harry nodded.
Ginny considered her words for a moment. "You're an orphan."
"No, I actually already knew that," Harry replied.
"Harry."
Harry looked at her to go on.
"You're an orphan," she started again. "You've lost a lot of people important to you."
Harry looked away now as she continued.
"You look for a connection because you're by yourself. You want unconditional love because then you know they won't leave you." Her tone was soft. "But true love is no guarantee for a long life. It's cruel."
"How is true love cruel?" Harry asked in confusion.
"If you lose them, if they die… You know you'll never feel that way again. Doomed to live your life with grief, unable to ever love again."
Harry looked at her, she seemed very serious. She looked away and sighed.
"When I thought you died… that feeling… it's like someone had ripped my heart out. Imagine what it would feel like if it was true love?" She shook her head at the thought. "True love is cruel and I don't want to have any part in it."
Harry sat up and looked at her with worry. "I didn't mean to-"
"I know, Harry." She kissed his cheek, she had brought it up after all. "And you are alive and here. So I'm okay. True love? I think it's overrated." She kissed him softly.
"I guess." Harry laid back down, his head resting back on her legs and picked his book back up.
"You know I'm not going anywhere, right? You're not alone," Ginny said.
Harry looked at her once again, his eyes sparkling. He reached out and squeezed her hand. She squeezed back softly.
James was a rough kisser. He snogged for inhumanly long in the dark corners, running out of breath and getting drunk on the sweet, the cherry and rum kind, taste of Lily’s lips. His hands were wrapped around her waist at those times, or he loved putting his fingers through her usually messy red hair. He hit her against the wall, a bit to harshly, perhaps, but she loved it, and she loved kissing him until she couldn’t breathe anymore, and then a bit longer.
Harry was a soft kisser. No matter for how long he kissed though, he could always make the kiss seem like it lasted for centuries. He hugged Ginny like she was the only thing keeping him from falling into some pitch black abyss without an end, he held her in his arms — literally — because she was so short, and he so tall. Her mouth felt soft too, but also on fire. She loved jumping on him right after he’s gotten off his broom and kissing his cold lips, passing her fire to him; it felt like breathing flames.
(Inspired by this)
Little Harry is wearing Moony’s sweater. 🍂
it's going to be alright
Summary: After the war, they heal back together. But it's a long time before he sees her scars. Hinny, hurt/comfort
A/N: This was requested by @chef-hagrid a long, long time ago. I'm sorry it's taken so long to write, but I hope you like it :D
...
When the rain stops, then darling, what will I do? And I know I go all in, but why do I? You give me a reason, something to believe in, I know, I know, I know. You give me a meaning, something I can breathe in, I know, I know, I know.
...
When he woke up, Harry found Ginny’s arm over his chest, his head tucked under her. Ginny was asleep, her soft breaths lulling him into a daze. Harry allowed himself to close his eyes before he realised why they were in such a position. The nightmare.
Lately, in the mornings; Harry struggled to recall everything that had happened the previous night. The nightmare. What he had seen. What he had done. The first time it had happened, Ginny had been there to calm him down. Somehow, the prospect of not remembering anything terrified him. It had taken weeks for him to get used to the idea, but he had finally come to a point where he didn’t immediately burst into full blown panic upon waking up.
Harry sighed, then gently eased Ginny into a more comfortable position. Part of him felt guilty that she had had to stay in that position all night, but he gently pulled her up, caressing her hair as her back tensed.
“Go back to sleep,” he whispered, gently kissing her forehead before pulling up her covers for her.
Harry smiled as the sunlight fell over her hair, rendering it into a soft shade of red that reminded him of the sun peeking through a million falling autumn leaves. She was beautiful, he thought, his eyes flickering over her body, before they rested on the small cluster of marks peeking through the nape of her shirt.
His eyebrows furrowed as he reached forward, gently nudging her shirt a few centimetres to get a better look at what he hoped would not be what he was thinking.
And it seemed as if his whole world stopped for a silent moment.
Scars.
From what Harry could see, they were all over that small part of her back, and he could bet they spread all over her back too.
How had she gotten those? Why….why hadn’t she told him about them? What the hell had happened to her?
Harry collapsed back on the bed, his heart stricken by what he had seen, his mind conjuring up a dozen wild scenarios of Ginny being in pain, or being tortured, and he gulped down his panic, willing the thoughts to go away.
Is that why she had insisted on wearing oversized shirts the entire summer, never opting for anything else? Now that he thought about it, Ginny had never really spoken about that past year, what had happened in Hogwarts, what had happened to her. She had always only told him about the routine searches or the interrogations that the teachers had subjugated them to, and that was it.
How had he been so dense as to not suspect something else? Because he was damn sure those scars had not been there when he’d left.
“You awake?” he heard Ginny’s voice, and he let his hand drop from over his eyes, turning to look at her. Her eyes shone brilliantly, gazing into his as she smiled.
Somehow, Harry couldn’t bear to smile back.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, her eyebrows furrowing just slightly and Harry sighed, pulling her into his embrace, as he wrapped his arms around her, the covers haphazardly over them. Ginny smiled into his shoulder, and Harry, once again, couldn’t help but let his eyes flicker over to the place where he had seen her scars. Again, they had been covered, and he shut his eyes, letting his head rest against Ginny’s.
Somehow, he just couldn’t bear to ask.
…
The weeks after the war had been especially hard for the Weasleys. Even Harry, being a mere observer could see that. Every morning, as he got himself up and made his way to the table, it was plain visible that there was an absence. An absence that the Weasleys felt hard.
While George had resorted to making home at his shop, Percy kept him company while also making sure he remained alive. Bill and Charlie had left soon after the second week, helping at Hogwarts, at the bank, at Diagon Alley. So, that left the two youngest Weasleys taking care of the family. And it was clear that they were drowning.
It was after Harry had found Ginny lying motionless on her bed, tears falling from her eyes without sound when he offered they move into 12 Grimmauld Place. The months had passed quickly, very quickly after that. And right now, mid-November, what they had was everything they could have ever asked for. So, there they were now, Harry beating up four eggs for breakfast and Ginny furiously cleaning up the muck that the wind had blown in. Now that she was officially of age, the wand was at her leisure and in no time at all, she was gazing into the hot pan, where the eggs were cooking.
Harry smiled fondly at her, before looking away, chopping the bread up furiously. The incidents of the morning still played in his mind, as his knife thudded on the chopping board.
“You know I’d cook,” Ginny started, “but I’m afraid I could possibly set the house on fire.”
Harry chuckled, dropping the bread into the same pan.
“Kreacher would kill me,” she finished dramatically.
Ginny walked slowly over to where he was standing, and gently placed her hands over his. “That was your cue to tell me what’s wrong, you know,” she said, and Harry looked at her, taking note of the all too knowing look in her eyes.
But before he could say anything else, Ginny reached forward over the counter and turned off the gas, placing a lid over the pan in the process.
“It’s about the scars, isn’t it?” she said, looking away from his eyes.
Harry’s eyes flicked up in shock, and Ginny laughed softly. Her laugh seemed forced, and Harry couldn’t help but notice her sudden change in demeanour.
“I know you saw them this morning, Harry. So, if this is about them, it’s your cue to ask.”
“Why didn’t..,” Harry stopped himself. “What happened, Gin?”
Ginny remained silent, as Harry walked over to her, lifting her chin up until she looked into his eyes, brown to green.
“Like I said, Harry,” she began, “the past year was not exactly what I expected at Hogwarts.”
“You need to tell me something more than that Gin, please,” Harry begged. “What really happened to you, Gin?”
“They….,” Ginny sighed. “ You know what they did. They tortured us, Harry. They tortured us at every moment they got. It was like a sick sadistic pastime of theirs, because they knew it was the only way they could break us.”
She leaned on the counter, looking up at Harry. “I remember, there was a girl, a Muggleborn. It started with her, I think. Amanda Seyheir, she was called. The Carrows somehow learnt that she was one and they,” her voice broke. “They killed her.”
She closed her eyes, turning her head away from Harry. “I couldn’t save her Harry, and because I couldn’t save her, I had to save the rest of them.”
Harry remained where she was, because it was the way she was speaking that got to him. As if it was something that she had gotten used to saying, something she had become used to seeing.
He stepped forward, but he had no idea what he should have said.
“The Carrows….once they had no more Muggleborns to torture, they started with us. Neville, Luna…Luna, she escaped, we helped her to, what with everything her father wrote for the Quibbler and all. But the rest of us stayed.”
And Harry understood. What she was leaving out. Why, in those long months, she had never spoken about it.
“What did they do?” he asked, his voice hoarse.
“The usual,” she answered flippantly, but Harry could sense the slight tremor in her voice. “The Cruciatus mostly, hexes; they once went through a phase of using something called Serpent - “
“Serpentsortia,” Harry ended, his heart clenching in horror.
Ginny looked at him, her eyes having a far-away look in them. “Was that the one that Snape…Draco….”
“Yeah,” Harry admitted, his eyes blazing with anger. If he had known, if only. “Can I,” he asked hesitantly, “can I see them?”
Ginny looked away, her eyes blazing with emotion. “They’re not exactly something I’m proud of,” she said darkly, turning away from him.
Harry stepped forward towards her, then let his hands pull Ginny towards him, her back against his chest. Ginny let out a breath, and rested her head on him. As Harry touched her arms, he could feel a slight tremor going through them.
“I love you Gin,” he whispered. “I’ve got you. It’s going to be…,” Harry hesitated. “It’s going to be alright.”
…
False promises may be, but when Ginny entered the room that night, in nothing but a tank top for the first time in a long while, Harry let his eyes caress over her arms, over her scars that started from her neck and went all the way over her back.
Ginny shuddered as his fingers traced over the long jagged scar on her shoulder, the remains of a badly performed splinching hex.
“Do they hurt?”
“No,” Ginny replied. “It’s been a long while since they’ve hurted.”
She wouldn’t look at him, he noticed. So Harry gently cupped her face as he made her look into his eyes.
“Gin, those scars,” he said, “they mean you fought a battle you won. You told me that, remember?”
“We,” she said, her voice shaking. “We fought a losing battle for a very long while. You don’t realise Harry, but for eight months we heard nothing. Absolutely nothing. And every single day I woke up thinking it would be the day I heard the news you were dead. We,” her voice broke. “We didn’t think we’d survive.”
Harry’s heart clenched as he watched the woman who had been strong for both of them for so long crumble before his eyes.
“And the worst part of it was that,” her voice shuddering, “that every day I woke up thinking ‘again? I had to do this all over again? Had the world not had enough?’” She closed her eyes, then whispered. “And that’s why….I’m not proud of this Harry. I’m not.”
It was Harry who closed the dwindling space between them. Because he needed her to know that he loved her. With her scars. She had been strong for so long. He needed her to know that it was his turn now, if she’d let him.
“I love you as you are,” he said. “Exactly as you are.”
And as her tears started falling, it was Harry who held her close to him, making sure to wipe away the tears now and again.
And that was the way they spent the night, in each other’s arms, fully aware that a part of them were broken, but right now, they knew they could lean on the other to get through the storm.
…
So, as the quiet rustle of the leaves coloured in different shades of gold ceased, the soft white dust started falling on the upper side of them. Just like that, their world seemed to get slower. A little turbulent perhaps, like the icy cold wind that entered their house sometimes as the temperature dipped even lower, but hadn’t it been that way since the beginning?
They needed each other, Harry realised. Though a part of him had known this since the moment he had kissed her in their Common Room.
He still wakes up at night, riddled with nightmares.
Ginny’s the same, her horrors seeming to engulf her entire purpose at times.
They still pull each out of the water, keep each other afloat.
But there will be one day, Ginny says to him, when they’ll look at their scars and have a story to tell. It might not be now, but it will be.
He’ll love her forever, he tells her then. Ginny laughs, telling him forever’s longer than what they’ll live for.
But he doesn’t tell her that what they have is forever for him. So he’ll love her forever as long as he lives, their scars shining brighter every day.
And that’s the way it will always be.
...
Harry was her support.
-
“I’ve been complaining all the time, you must be thinking I’m not enjoying to play Quidditch anymore…” “Well, it’s much more than that now. You have your teammates and club counting on you, so of course it’s stressful.” “Thank you for not telling me to give up only to make me feel better.” “I would never tell you to be what you’re not. Giving up won’t make you happy.”
True Love's Kiss
Happy Birthday to Harry and his one true love
Ron and Neville carried Harry into St Mungos. He was having difficulty breathing and he complained of an odd headache. They had been going through evidence of a captured Death Eater when Harry had touched one of the artefacts. He immediately collapsed and gasped for air.
They handed him off to a Healer and they were ordered to make room. The Healers set to work immediately, trying to figure out what was wrong with him. Harry's breathing became more laboured.
"Cursed object?" one of the Healers asked. Ron nodded.
"Yes, it was a dark glass orb with a crest, it was in a box of sand-"
"Merlin, it can't be… Get the Head Auror," one of the Healers said. Neville and Ron looked between each other. Neville nodded and left to find Gawain Robards.
Ron stood waiting while they worked on Harry. He saw how they had to take multiple measurements just to sustain his current condition. He had a breathing spell put on him just to keep him from choking.
Minutes later Gawain came running in with Neville in tow. Ron watched as he talked to the Healer, the crease between his brow deepening as he spoke. Gawain turned to Harry.
"If you can understand what I'm saying, nod," Gawain asked Harry. He nodded ever so slightly.
"If you feel like there's fog in your brain, nod again," he said, which Harry did.
"Feel like your veins are on fire?" Another nod. Gawain stood up.
"You did a good job containing it but I may need to do some more additional spells just to slow down the process and buy us time," he told the Healer. Ron felt as though he was going to throw up.
They were asked to clear the room.
"You may wish to inform his loved ones, this is pretty serious," the Healer said. Ron nodded silently. He went to a quiet corner to send out several Patronuses.
Hermione arrived first. She looked at Ron for an explanation but Ron told her they had to wait for more information. Arthur arrived next.
"Molly had Victoire, she'll be along later," he informed them.
"Is Ginny on her way?" Hermione asked.
"I've sent her a Patronus so I assume so…" Ron responded.
The minutes dragged on and it seemed to take ages before they were called back in.
The Healers spoke to them. Harry looked to be barely conscious.
"He's been cursed. It's pretty serious but we're working on a cure. We just have to make sure the cure is ready before the curse gets him entirely," the Healer told him.
"Well, what's the cure?" Ron asked. The Healer sighed.
"There's two. There's a complicated potion to brew, it can't be rushed … we're putting our best potioneers on it but we don't know if Mr Potter can fight it that long."
"Well, what's the other one?" Hermione asked.
"We may as well not mention it at all. True Love is quite rare."
"I'm sure the Department of Mysteries has got that bottled somewhere," Ron turned to Gawain Robards. The Head Auror raised his eyebrows.
"How would you bottle True Love? It's already hard enough to come by as it is," he told Ron.
"I don't know… put the happy couple's blood together in a vial and shake it?" he proposed. Both Hermione and Neville turned to look at him with a frown.
"Hey, at least I'm trying," Ron defended himself.
"Can he hear us?" Hermione asked. The Healer nodded.
"The brain fog will continue to increase but for now he's some degree of conscious," he told her. Hermione walked up to Harry.
"You've got to hang in there, okay?" she told him. He slowly blinked to signal he had heard her.
"Damnit, where's Ginny?" Ron said, looking at his watch. The next moment Ginny came bursting through the door. She did not bother to ask what was happening and ran past them towards Harry. Without caring who was in the room, she embraced him and kissed him firmly. The next moment there was a low rumble that seemed to be coming from within Harry. He gasped as his lungs filled on their own accord, his arms coming around Ginny to hold her close.
The whole room watched in absolute shock at both of them.
"Is that…?" Neville asked. The Healer had to stop himself from gaping in shock.
"Yes."
Ginny looked up as she felt the room had stalled. Half the people in it looked absolutely gobsmacked. Ron was wearing a weird smile. The Head Auror looked as though he had seen a miracle and the Healer looked down at his notes blankly.
"Harry?" Ginny asked for some kind of explanation, turning to look at him again. He was wearing a wide grin as he pulled her close again.
"I'm going to be alright," he told her and he could not hide the emotions in his voice.
When Harry released her from their embrace, the rest of the room still seemed not to have moved.
"Can someone please tell me what's going on?" she asked firmly. Harry sat up and cleared his throat.
"There are only two cures for the curse I caught. There's True Love and there's a potion…"
"They gave you the potion?" Ginny asked. Neville spoke.
"No, that's still brewing."
Harry watched as Ginny processed the information. Then her lips were on his again, ignoring the rest of the people in the room.
"If you bottle that, I want credit," Ron said.
Happy Birthday, my love
Harry leaned against the door frame leading into the kitchen. He had his arms folded.
"I was supposed to make breakfast for you today," he spoke. He saw a soft smile appearing on her face but she didn't reply. He snuck up to her as she was preparing eggs and wrapped his arms around her waist.
"Happy birthday, my love," he said against her ear before attacking her neck with kisses.
"I'm going to burn the eggs," she said softly, making no move to stop him.
"When the eggs are done, I will go get your gift," Harry said. He did not move to release her as she continued with the eggs.
She turned down the heat and then put a heating charm on the eggs. She turned around in his arms and kissed him.
"Okay, what's my gift," she asked now. Harry kissed her cheek and released her.
He stepped into the other room. He returned with a wrapped gift that was very obviously a broom.
"A broom?" she asked.
"Not just any broom," he said, he handed the broom to her.
Her fingers pulled at the paper and tore it apart. Ginny let out the loudest shriek.
"That's! That's…the FireChase! That's not even out yet!"
"May have dropped my name… and when they heard it was for the best Chaser in the country….well, they were happy to provide it early," Harry said as Ginny jumped into his arms.
"I've been aching to get my hands on that," she said, kissing him eagerly.
"I know. Now go test it out!" Harry told her.
"What about breakfast?"
"Breakfast can wait for five minutes," he responded.
Ginny grabbed the broom and quickly ran into the garden. "Bold of you to assume I'll be back in five minutes!" With the same amount of glee as a child on Christmas, she pushed off the ground and took off.
Harry watched from the door as Ginny went straight up into the sky at incredible speed. He sat down and got comfortable, he knew she'd not make it back to the ground for at least an hour.
I don’t know, i just missed them.
Hey if you are still looking for requests for Hinny fluff can you please write something about Harry being hit on by muggles and him being confused because he is not “the chosen one” in the muggle world, and Ginny having to explain that he is good looking?
A/N: idk what even happened to this lol xD I hope it brings a laugh or two.
---
"That looks amazing on you.”
Harry startles and turns, putting an end to his examination of his own reflection. “I - thanks.”
Refocusing, Harry fumbles for the tag. It’s a bit too pricey, honestly. He just saw it on the mannequin in the window and Harry nearly mistook it for Sirius. It feels childish, really, to impulse buy a coat because it reminds him of his godfather.
Then again he does need -
“Especially with your styling.”
His fan club has grown - two women linger just off to the side, watching. All Harry can think is this is one of those fancy shops where salespeople earn commissions.
“I’m not quite sure but - ”
“Well you should be,” the dark haired woman steps closer and brushes her hand over his shoulders, “It fits like a glove.”
Harry stiffens and sidesteps away, pulling the jacket off and reclaiming his own. “What’s your return policy?”
“Return - ” shoulder toucher shoots a glance toward her friend, “Oh well we actually don’t work here.”
Harry pauses his retelling and ruffles his hair.
“So then what happened?” Ginny prompts.
“They asked me to dinner!” Harry yelps, earning a couple of odd glances from patrons nearby.
Dinner arrives and Harry barely registers any of it until his napkin-bundled silverware nudges his hand. “It actually is dinner time Potter.”
Harry glances up at Ginny, who’s currently buttering a roll, apparently without a care in the world. “Why are you - ”
“Did you buy the jacket?” Ginny asks, eyes rolling back a bit when she bites into her roll. “You won’t like these - I’ll go ahead and eat them. Spare you.”
“You aren’t - ”
“Surprised? Upset?”
He grabs a roll and breaks off a piece, the scent of baked cheddar tickling his nostrils. “Well. Yeah. I was,” a pause while he chews - the roll and the thought, “it was a muggle shop!”
Ginny finally does look surprised and perhaps a bit upset, pausing halfway through her second roll to stare across the dimly lit table. “Are you - ” she blinks slowly, “You’re not fucking with me?”
“Well - ”
“Don’t say ‘not currently’ and wriggle your eyebrows.”
Harry pouts.
“Do you not know you’re fit?” Ginny finally asks after a few false starts.
“I’m alright - less scrawny than I was at Hogwarts,” Harry shrugs, sipping his cider.
“No I mean you’re fit Harry,” Ginny says with a shake of her head, “Like brooding rockstar throw you my knickers fit - you get knickers owled to you!”
“Maybe don’t shout that in a muggle pub, dear,” Harry laughs, “But really that’s my point. Those women didn’t know I’m The Boy Who Lived. I get knickers because of my reputation.”
The waiter chooses that beautifully perfect moment to check in about the status of their entrees and Harry barely manages to carry on the back and forth. It’s essentially a one man conversation as Ginny has dissolved into giggles and poor Henry is blushing head to toe.
Once he departs with promises of imminent food delivery and a refresher on their drinks and Ginny’s tears let up enough for her to dab them away, she pins him with a long look. “Harry, Boy Who Lived or no, you are an absolute treat for the eyes.”
“I’m a treat?” Harry smirks.
“Delicious,” Ginny nods with an answering grin.
“Yummy?”
“I could eat you up,” Ginny confirms with an exaggerated wink.
“Am I lickable?”
A choking sound followed by the clattering of some dinnerware comes from somewhere over Harry’s shoulder and he turns to find Henry covered in what appears to luckily be two fresh ciders as opposed to a roast chicken and accompanying sides.
When said meal does appear, a nervous busboy does the honors, and later the expected bill is brought by Fatima, who apologizes for Henry’s abrupt ‘personal emergency’ and subsequent departure before the close of their dinner.
chubby baby
inspired by a true story, of a mother who had to explain herself, because people were saying that her six month old baby was ''fat''
(I feel like Harry and Ginny would do anything to keep the kids safe from the papers, and still go out on the street with them, and honestly I would do the same, so yeah)
--------
Ginny and Harry almost never let baby James be seen by the cameras, for numerous reasons, and one of them was because of this:
''Are they calling my son fat?!'' Ginny almost screamed, but took a deep breath when James, who was eating his breakfast at his normal concentration, always super focused on the food and new textures, looked at her with concern.
''Apparently we're not good parents because our six-month-old isn't in good shape,'' Harry rolled his eyes, feeding James some more scrambled eggs. ''We should enroll him in the gym, you know? To lift some weights,’’
''That's why I don't like it when you go out with him without the protection. I don't like people taking his picture and talking whatever nonsense they think is right,'' Ginny was nervous, looking back at the picture of her son eating ice cream with Harry and Teddy. They'd gone out to do some shopping, and Ginny had sent him a homemade popsicle she'd made from fruit that James just loved, and it helped him with the whole teeth and itchy gum thing.
Now her adorable little boy was in the papers, with people saying that “His parents should take him to a doctor to have his weight checked.”
"If these people have a problem with their image, let them get treatment and don't throw it at six-month-olds who are super healthy and have a good relationship with food," Ginny almost growled, gritting her teeth to keep from dropping a curse.
''Gin, do you think I like this? Of course not. And I didn't remember the protection, I was making sure he didn't get his clothes dirty or Teddy didn't break any of the presents, I must have taken the spell off when I made one to make sure his shirt stayed white.’’
She took a deep breath, she knew it wasn't Harry's fault, he was the one who managed to find this child protection spell in an old book, almost as if James Sirius wore an invisibility cloak against pictures, which prevented things like that from happening.
Harry was just as uncomfortable as Ginny was every time the kids paid the price for their fame, but they couldn't stop leaving the house because of crazy people.
''I know, forgive me,'' She took a sip of the hot chocolate he'd made for her, looking down at her adorable baby, who was in perfect health, having a great introduction to food. ''I just get annoyed because people always seem so concerned about how we look, you know they didn't leave me alone even when I was pregnant.''
''I know,'' Harry handed the glass of water to James, smiling when his son managed to hold it and drink it on his own without spilling it on himself. ''People are cruel and then they ask us why we never show up for anything.''
''And neither will we!'' Ginny snorted. ''That Daily Prophet event? I'll go there myself and say we won't be attending,'' She stopped, smiling at Harry. ''And also once again threatening them for using the image of children in bullshit like these. Ah, but they're picking a fight with the wrong family, Harry! We're the wrong family for them to play this!''