thank you @savannah-5555 for your prompt:
Harry being a girl dad and getting Lily luna ready for school
I wrote this much faster than I expected, thank you so much to everyone who sent prompts, I'll try to write them all, it's just that this one came out a lot faster
inspired by a true story, aka, the fact that Niece loves it when I do her hair :)
ââStay still,ââ
ââYou are doing wrong,
'I'm not,'
"That's not how Daddy does it," Ginny sighed, dropping the comb on the bed and looking at her daughter sitting between her legs, her green eyes gleaming and looking almost ready to cry. She was horrible at that, Ginny couldn't understand how she could have such lousy skills with a comb, while Harry seemed simply to have been born with the gift of making the best braid in the world.
"But Daddy needs to work," Ginny reminded her, looking at her daughter in the reflection of the mirror that hung on the wall in front of them.
"But I'm ugly," Lily sniffled, running her tiny hands over her eyes and sucking on her lower lip, as if she was trying to hold back the sob that already seemed to want to well up in her green eyes. The plump cheeks are starting to turn red already, a big sign of the growing crying.
Ginny looked at her daughter's hair.
Harry had taken her for a haircut last week as he was going to cut his hair and Lily was complaining about the heat. And Ginny no longer had the best comb skills, she could untangle, make a ponytail, and a simple bun. The rest, it was always Harry who did. Braids, pigtails, curls, more elaborate hairstyles⊠He could just look at the hairstyle magazine and reproduce them with ridiculous skill.
It was Lily's first day of school at the new Muggle school, and she clearly didn't want Ginny to be responsible for her hairstyle.
Ginny was good at choosing clothes and grooming the kids, but it was Harry who knew how to take care of everyone's hair, she had to admit defeat for that task.
The problem was that Harry was in their home office, solving some matters that had come up, and Ginny didn't want to disturb him, but she also didn't want Lily to feel ugly on her first day of school - the girl was already looking nervous to the change of school, she didn't need anything else to worry about.
ââI'm going to talk to your dad, then we'll see if he can come and do your hair, okay? But if he can't, Mom will have to,'' Ginny warned her daughter, who nodded quickly and jumped out of bed, running for the stairs before she even got out of bed and closed the jar of styling cream Harry had bought for Lily.
Lily was already at the door to the office when Ginny got there, waiting anxiously for her permission to knock on the door and call for her dad, her hair looking like a nest of angry birds.
"Daddy," Lily said after Harry allowed her entrance, her voice low and embarrassed, hands behind her back.
Ginny didn't give much thought to how shocked he looked when he saw Lily's hair, then looked back into Lily's eyes. ''Hey my Love,''
ââCan you fix my hair? Mom doesn't know how to do it like you do,ââ
"And she's feeling ugly," Ginny said, hands on her hips and her eyebrows raised as Harry threatened to laugh. 'âApparently her dad is a hairdresser and I didn't know it,'â
"I know a thing or twoâŠ" Harry shrugged, looking at the desk full of papers and then standing up. â'Come on, daddy will help you,'â
Lily jumped in glee, easily accepting his arms, hanging on to his hip as Harry scooped her up, gripping his neck to hold herself in place and smiling excitedly as they walked up the stairs, Ginny behind them, incredulous that her daughter had betrayed her that way.
Everyone knew - anyone who spent more than a second with them - that Lily was a Dad's little girl. Not that Harry didn't love and do anything for the boys, but with Lily it was even more, Harry died and killed for her.
He danced ballet in a performance with her because Lily was afraid to be alone on stage and Harry didn't want her to give up trying. He took her to a dragon park because Charlie gave a mini dragon to Lily and she was just obsessed, so Harry had to take her to the park so she could see that they were huge animals and they couldn't have one at home. Harry let Lily paint his nails, put makeup on him, play with his hair, and even put glitter on his beard.
Ginny was still laughing just remembering what Harry looked like when she came home with the boys after taking them to play in the park, and her husband was sitting at his daughter's tea table, his face all glowing, as he pretended to have tea in a cup that was too small for him.
Harry was a great father, Ginny knew that, even though she was sometimes a little jealous that Lily would rather be with him than her.
"Daughters always prefer their dads," Molly had said when Ginny complained. 'You'd rather spend hours with your dad doing nothing than with me,'â
"Come on, princess, sit here," Harry sat up in bed, leaving space for Lily to sit across from him, and then he took the comb and began to work. "Look, you need to separate her hair into three parts, but every time you braid it," Harry began, wiggling his fingers like it was something he'd been doing forever. ââYou get a new piece of hair,ââ
"I can't get all that hand coordination," Ginny jokes, sitting next to him.
ââIt's all a matter of practice⊠Here... simple. With her hair short, it's a lot faster than when it was long.â Harry didn't braid it all the way, stopping halfway and putting on a little bow Lily had chosen, then winding the hair around his finger and forming a curl, starting a new braid next to the one already finished.
ââYou are better at this than I am,ââ
ââJust practice,ââ
"Am I going to look beautiful Dad?" Lily asked, bouncing her feet anxiously, a genuine smile on her face.
"You are beautiful, Lily-lu," Harry looked at Ginny out of the corner of his eye, smiling and denying it, seeming not to believe what their six-year-old daughter was saying.
"And you still said you were afraid of not being a good girl's dad," Ginny complained, getting up and going to the closet to get her daughter's jacket and sneakers, not wanting them to be late the first day.
''I do my best,'' Harry put on the last bow, kissing his daughter's head before letting her jump out of bed, watching her run to the mirror to admire her father's work, who looked more than approved. ''You liked?''
"I love it, Dad," Lily rushed to hug him, placing a wet kiss on his cheek. Harry whispered something to Lily that Ginny didn't understand, concentrating on checking her daughter's backpack to see if anything was missing. She always forgot something. ''Mommy?''
"Hi, my love," Ginny looked at her.
Lily hugged her legs. "I love my outfit," Ginny chuckled, looking at Harry before turning her eyes back to her daughter. "And thanks for trying to fix my hair."
"Thank you, my love," Ginny bent down, kissing her forehead and then the tip of her nose, as she used to do since Lily was just a newborn. ââNow let's put on the sneakers, ok? Mom and Dad will take you to school,ââ
Lily nodded, hurrying to sit in her chair and put on her sneakers, not caring when Ginny walked over to her husband, who was smiling slightly, and kissed him quickly. ââYou are an amazing mother, Gin,ââ
"I know, I just wish I could comb her hair," she complained, letting him hold her while they waited for Lily to get ready.
'âAnd what would be left for me then?'â
"Don't come with that, Potter, you're great at a lot of things."
"So are you," Harry kissed her forehead. ââI don't know how to dress her without her looking like she's going to the circus⊠we're a team, I do a little, you do a little...ââ
"A team," Ginny repeated, smiling as she watched her daughter admire herself in the mirror, then grabbed the backpack Arthur and Molly had given her last week. ââWe are an amazing team, modesty aside,ââ
''Totally. Our players are the best. There's no better team than ours,'â Harry blinked, kissing her again, only to pull away and pick up Lily, who was already starting to complain about their delay.
Ginny couldn't have chosen a better father for her children.
To break down rape culture, we need to stop teaching people that men canât help themselves; they absolutely can look for enthusiastic consent, and they must. This is absolute bare minimum decent human being behaviour.Â
Also, if you stop teaching people that âmen canât help themselvesâ it tends to go hand in hand with teaching the fact that no, men do not âalways want itââ which in turn is beneficial for those men who might themselves be assaulted, regardless of the rapistâs gender. Enthusiastic, mindful consent applies to everyone.
I haven't written in ages and this fic is so far from good but I literally stayed up all night to finish it because I NEEDED TO FINISH SOMETHING. I hope you enjoy it nonetheless, I'm still here! And I'm still thinking about Words Unspoken, I just am really struggling to make the next chapter not boring so needed to refresh myself with writing something else.
Also on AO3
âGinny, people are staring, can you stop trying to strangle your brother?â
Ginny swivelled around on her seat in a flash, sending her mother a look of indignation. Ron, who was struggling to breathe, took the opportunity to switch seats, squeezing in between George and Angelina on the bench across from his sister. He massaged his neck dramatically.
âHonestly mum, sheâs gone mental. Donât know what her problem is.â
Ginny lunged across the train compartment, trying to grab her brotherâs neck again. âDonât know what the problem is? DONâT KNOW WHAT THE PROBLEM IS?â Bill held her back, rolling his eyes. She sat back with a huff and sent daggers at her brother. âI know you have them. Youâre just too scared to tell Hermione that you lost her Christmas gift already.â
George raised an eyebrow and turned to his little brother. âThose eartellys she got you?â
âEarphones, George.â Ginny corrected. âBut yes. Ron has decided to replace his with mine that I brought with my own hard earned money. Donât know what the point is either, you lost the radio that goes with them too.â
âExactly!â Ron exclaimed. âWhat use would I have for them?â He squirmed in his seat, then crossed over his arms and looked out the window. ââSides, I havenât lost anything, just temporarily misplaced perhaps.â
âYou tell Hermione that.â Ginny scoffed. âYouâre lucky sheâs in the other compartment.â
âYou tell Hermione that.â Ron mocked.
âOh real mature-â
âStop! Both of you.â Molly warned, sending her children the evil eye. âWe are on our way to a nice holiday, I do not want to hear any bickering or mocking or- or- anything!â she paused for a moment, âat least when Iâm in earshot.â
Ginny and Ron grumbled something that sounded somewhat like agreement. Ginny however had her eyes trained on her brother, mouthing threats at him. Before she could get into the real nasty stuff however, their train began to slow.
The frosted trees and high peaks that had been whizzing indiscernibly past them for the last few hours became less fuzzy, visible against the grey clouded sky. The weather had seemed to get increasingly volatile as their journey had progressed, but it was still a beautifuk sight. Everyone in the compartment crowded against the window, eager to take in the new surroundings. The station they had pulled into twinkled at them, bright with Christmas lights and garlands.
âOh, isnât it beautiful.â Molly gasped. She pointed towards some brown dots peppered on the slope of one of the mountains. âAnd I think thatâs where we will be.â
âHow dâyou reckon the muggles get up there?â Ron asked.
Before anyone could answer, the door to their compartment slid open, and Mr Weasley poked his head inside. âYou lot coming? Or would you like to spend the rest of the holiday on the train?â
As if only now realizing that the view is even better outside than inside a cramped train compartment, they all turned from the window and hurriedly picked up their luggage from overhead. A few other passengers were emerging from other compartments and shuffling towards the doors too. Arthur led the group onto the platform, chattering about the trip and the lodges they had booked and the âstrange muggle sport, skiing.â
They joined the rest of the family and Harry and Hermione on the platform. Hermione crossed over to Ron and immediately started spouting all the information that she had absorbed from the brochures on the train at him. Harry hung back awkwardly, Ginny noticed. He did that a lot recently. The two of them made eye contact for a brief second, but Harry quickly looked away. Ginny took a deep breath, trying not to let it bother her.
Even though he had basically been living at the Burrow for the past few months, they hadnât passed more than a few words between each other in all that time. Harry was always at Hogwarts rebuilding, at funerals, at meetings with the press, with Kingsley. If not, he was most likely holed up in his room, or with Ron and Hermione. And Ginny had been busy too, helping around the house. She had spent a large portion of June with Luna, too, helping to put her house back together.
But as the days got better, and it felt less like a punch in the gut to think of Fred, it started to feel like more and more of an ache in her heart to think of Harry. To be around him, yet not even remotely close to him. She wanted to think he felt the same, but the more time went on, the more she wondered if he had just⊠moved on.
âGet a move on then, Ginny, youâll miss the portkey.â
Ginny looked up to see their entourage all holding onto a plank of wood sticking out of the deep snow. Ginny had blindly followed their group a few metres away from the station to a sheltered copse of pines to get their lift. The plank of wood started to shake and Ginny threw herself at it, getting to it at the last moment. She felt a tug at her navel and as soon as she was lifted from the snowy slope, she was deposited, with a thump, into a grand foyer.
âNever gets old, that,â Bill said, rubbing his backside. The rest of the family, minus those who had managed to float gracefully to the floor, grumbled their agreement. Molly and Arthur headed for the receptionists desk while the rest of the Weasleys plus extras explored the foyer.
Ginny joined Ron, Hermione and Harry by the large fireplace, revelling in the warmth.
âThe slopes here are a bit different to France but I think Jean-Luc taught me well enough to handle these. You know the peaks we saw-â
âJean-Luc? Whoâs this Jean-Luc?â Ron interrupted Hermione, frowning.
âOur ski instructor, Ron. Now about the terrain in France-â
âWhen were you going to tell me about Jean-Luc?â Ron interrupted again.
Hermione huffed and threw her arms in the air. âWell Iâm sure I did tell you, when I was twelve.â
Ginny snorted as Ron came back with a retort, she caught eyes with Harry again, but this time he rolled his eyes and tilted his head towards the quarreling couple. Ginny laughed, and as if that reminded Harry that he was supposed to be keeping up his sullen appearances with her, he looked away.
âAll right everyone, Iâve got the keys!â Molly dangled the keys in the air, ushering everyone towards her. She doled out sets to everyone. She took the time to reluctantly hand keys to Ron, George and Percy who had somehow managed to convince their mum to give them rooms with their girlfriends. Ginny took her key eagerly from her mother, inspecting the wooden key chain attached to it.
âAll right, fifteen minutes to get yourselves sorted and then weâre meeting in the lounge for drinks!â
âFifteen minutes is enough for a power nap.â George said, stretching his arms in the air as they collectively moved to the exit. They had to brave the increasingly gale-like winds again, trudging through the snow with their jacket collars turned up. Each cabin stood alone, and the family split off, creating tell-tale paths to their front doors. Ginny shut her cabin door behind her with relief. She pulled a long piece of hair from her mouth, spluttering and fussing with her windswept hair.
Her room was cosy, with a great view of the mountains. She dumped her suitcase on the floor, stuck her head in the bathroom, promising the tub she would be back later, then flopped onto the bed. She could hear the wind howling even from inside. It was right now she wished she had her damn earphones.
She shot up. Sitting on the edge of the bed. Smiling devilishly to herself she checked the time. It had almost been fifteen minutes and she was hatching a great plan in her head. She grabbed her coat and exited her room, locking up quickly. She hesitated on her doorstep, then spotted a bushy brunette, messy black-haired teen and a lanky redhead leaving one of the cabins. She waited a few moments then tried her best to discreetly sneak over to the cabin. She tried the door, and gave a little squeal when it opened for her. She had assumed that it would be a fifty-fifty chance of the door being open, combining Ronâs forgetfulness and Hermioneâs neurotics. She still wouldâve used her wand to get in regardless, but not having to sneak it in front of the muggles that were milling about their own cabins was a bonus.
Ginny rubbed her hands together and toed into the room. âOkay. If I were a pair of stolen earphones, where would I hide?â
Hermione never ceased to impress her. Their suitcases were empty and the cupboards were full. Ginny rifled through Ronâs jumpers and jacket pockets but turned up empty handed. She rummaged through his rucksack, then checked the empty suitcase. Nothing. âI know you have them.â she whispered to herself. She looked around the room, which was considerably larger than hers, most of all the fluffy double bed.
She hopped over to the bedside table, and just as she pulled the drawer out, she heard the front door click open. In a panic she closed the drawer on her arm, swore at the pain, then swore at the fact that she had been caught.
âI can explain-â she started, but she paused as she looked up. The person who walked into the room was not Ron or Hermione, but Harry. He stopped in his tracks at the sight of her.
âHarry,â Ginny smiled in relief.
âUm-â
âI actually canât explain. And I donât have to, because youâre not my thief brother.â She stood up and drew her arm out of the bedside drawer, clasping in her hand the tangled wires of a pair of earphones.
Harry tilted his head in momentary confusion, then sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. âShould I even ask?â
âNope,â Ginny replied. âAnd I would really appreciate it if you didnât tell, either.â
A slight smile came over his face and Ginny felt a warm feeling of triumph flourish in her chest. They stared at each other a few moments before Harry looked around the room. âCame back for my coat,â he said lamely, leaning over the bed and picking up the forgotten piece of clothing. Ginny nodded,and another awkward silence fell over them.
âWell, we should probably get going thenâŠâ Ginny eventually suggested. But before either of them could take more than two steps towards the door, A loud thump echoed across the room. Suddenly, it seemed as if the sounds of the howling wind outside became muffled and it became a lot darker.
âWhat the-â Harry sprang to an alert stance, reaching for his wand. Ginny copied him. They waited, seeing if the noise would return, but it didnât. Ginny felt her arms brush against Harryâs and they simultaneously realized how close they were standing. They sprang apart and Harry rubbed his neck nervously. âSorry.â
âI actually do,â Harry interrupted her. He walked up the front door, turned the knob, and tried to push it open. It didnât budge one inch. Ginny went to the windows, but they were completely blank, like white canvas. There was no way-
âI think weâre snowed in.â Harry said with a grimace. Ginny closed her eyes and cursed merlin. What were the chances? Seriously, what did she do to deserve this?
âSurely mum and dad will be along soon to get us out.â Ginny tried to reassure both herself and Harry.
âDonât know if thatâll help, they couldnât use magic to clear all this snow with all the muggles around.â
âAnd muggles? Donât they have ways to deal with this?â
Harry shrugged his shoulders. âItâs a lot of snow⊠and seems the blizzard is just picking up. Donât know if theyâll be sending anyone out in this weather.â he sat at the edge of the bed, twirling his wand in his fingers. Ginny sat across from him in a chair. She chuckled to herself and Harry looked up at her with a raised eyebrow.
âI mean, it is kind of funny. Great first day of holiday right?â
âDefinitely exactly how I imagined it all going,â Harry laughed.
They sat in relative silence for a long time, and the room progressively darkened as they waited. A patronus from Mr Weasley crept into their room, panicking about where they were. Harry sent a patronus back telling them not to worry. It was when it became so dark that Ginny had to get up and switch on all the lights that they resigned themselves to the fact that they were probably spending the night together, and they had to sort out the question that they had both been thinking about for the past hour.
Ginny broke the silence after the fifth time that Harry tried to stifle a yawn.
âAll right. Letâs talk about bed.â
âWhat?â Harry perked up considerably.
âHarry weâre going to end up sleeping in here, I can see how tired you are. Letâs go to bed.â
âGinny Iâm fine, really.â
Ginny fixed Harry with a stern glare. âNo, youâre not. Come on, this bed is big enough for both of us with plenty of space in between.â
Harry leapt off the covers as if they had become lit with fire. âNo, Ginny. Iâll sleep on the floor.â
Ginny scoffed. âHarry, we are literally inside a giant ice box. And thereâs zero extra bedding. Youâll freeze to death.â
Harry shook his head. He pulled the thin blanket decorating the double bed and laid it on the floor, then added one of the decorative pillows to the top of his arrangement. He pointed towards it as if it helped his case. âSee? Iâll be fine. Really comfortable actually.â
âHarry no-â
âItâs great.â He laid down on the floor and pulled the blanket over him. âSeriously donât worry about me.â
âI donât think-â
âGinny-â
âWhy are you being like this?â Ginny snapped suddenly. Harryâs eyes shot open and he gripped his blanket tightly.
âI donât see the problem-â
âI donât see how the idea of sharing a bed with me is so awful that youâll suffer on the cold floor all night!â Ginny shouted. Harry didnât budge. She huffed, grabbed a pair of pyjamas out Hermioneâs cupboard and stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her. She pulled her clothes off, then tried to calm herself to put on Hermioneâs very expensive-looking silk set. She stared at herself in the mirror. A tidal wave of emotions seemed to crash over her, and she had to swallow hard to stop the tidal wave from spilling over. She splashed her face with some water, took one more deep breath, then exited the bathroom.
Harry was pretending to be asleep already. She could tell he was intensely alert to the noises she was making. She climbed into bed. It was frustratingly comfortable. She punched a hole in the pillow a few times, leaned over the bedside table and flicked the light off, drenching them in darkness. Then she turned on her side and tried to fall asleep.
Which didnât work very well.
Her watch read a little past 12:00 AM when she finally gave up on trying to fall asleep. She lay on her back and stared at the ceiling.
âGinny?â
She wasnât sure if she had imagined it.
âGinny?â came another hesitant whisper.
âYeah?â she replied softly.
âIâm sorry.â
She smiled softly to herself. A while passed before she replied.
âIâm sorry too.â
âHm? What are you sorry for?â
âI kind of exploded on you,â she said sheepishly. âAnd itâs not like⊠itâs not like Iâve really been there for you recently.â
She heard Harry take a deep breath. She was suddenly incredibly happy for the intense silence around them. The intense darkness. The feeling that what they said here would not leave this room at all, that they could say what they needed to.
âThatâs really-â Harry paused. âGin, you really donât need to say that. I think we both know that this⊠situation,â he said the word experimentally, âweâre in, is my fault.â
âHarry itâs not your fault. Itâs not like any of this is easy. Maybe we both had different expectations⊠but when do those things ever go to plan?â
Harry laughed softly. âWell when they concern meâŠâ
âExactly,â Ginny said. She thought for a moment. Deciding there would probably be no better time than now, she spoke again. âI just want to know if youâre okay. Which, I mean youâre probably not, but even then, I want you to feel like you can talk to me.â
Harry didnât reply for a while and she wondered if he had fallen asleep. She shifted under the covers feeling a sinking in her stomach.
âI know.â she stilled. âI want to talk to you. Every day that Iâve come home to the Burrow and I see you I want to talk to you, but for some reason I wonât let myself. I feel like Iâm still on the run. Like nothingâs really over yet.â He paused for a moment. âAnd I- I donât really know whatâs going to happen when it does all come down on me.â
Ginny wanted nothing more than to be near to him, to give him a hug. âHarry you know weâll all be here for you. No matter what. Iâll be here for you- as a friend, as⊠well, as anything.â
âGin-â Harry paused for a long time. âI donât feel any different about you from that day by the lake. I really know it may not seem like it and I really understand if you think Iâm the worldâs biggest prat.â he laughed at himself. âBut that- the feelings I have for you- theyâre one of the few things that havenât changed in the past year.â
Ginny felt all those emotions from earlier rise again, though this time they felt lighter, better. She couldnât contain it any longer. She threw the covers off her legs and padded over to Harry on the floor. She held her hand out to him, and even though it was pitch dark, she knew he was looking right at her. Her fingertips burned when she felt his hand in hers. And the fire travelled up and ignited her whole body.
She led them back to the bed and ushered Harry in first. She climbed in after him and pulled the covers over them. She turned on her side to face Harry. âThatâs the one thing that hasnât changed for me either,â she whispered. âItâs nice. To have one constant in the middle of all this.â
She felt Harry shift imperceptibly closer to her. âIt is,â he agreed. âI just⊠need some time.â
âLucky for you Iâve got some time.â
âReally?â
âYeah. Just maybe letâs try and say more than two words to each other every day?â
âI donât know, Gin. Thatâs a big step.â
Ginny chuckled. âI believe in you.â
âOk, Iâll suffer through.â
âI know its torture to speak to me.â
âLet alone share a bed.â
Ginny slapped some part of Harry blindly, probably his shoulder, and he gave a dramatic cry. She rolled her eyes but couldnât help herself smiling. Suddenly, in one night, everything felt right with them. She turned over to her other side and closed her eyes.
âNight, Harry.â
âGoodnight, Gin.â
And strangely, in a matter of seconds, she fell asleep.
She was so warm. That was the first thing she realised. She relished in the feeling, then noticed she was also impossibly comfortable. The next thing she noticed however was a weight over her waist. Her eyes shot open and everything came rushing back to her. Ending with the fact that she was in bed with Harry. Even when they had been dating they hadnât shared a bed.
Yet in this snowed-in log cabin, they had managed it. Harry was snuggled close to her side, arm slung over her waist. She could feel his every breath and he was still steadily asleep. She decided she could revel in this feeling a bit longer. She let her eyes flutter shut again. A few minutes passed. Ginny furrowed her eyebrows.
There was a strange picking noise coming from somewhere. A sharp tack-tack periodically sounding out. She opened her eyes, trying to spot the culprit, but from her position she couldnât see anything. She listened harder. It sounded like it was coming from the door-
She cringed as a scraping sound broke the morningâs bliss. Harry woke up in a daze and light streamed in from the entrance. Ginny squinted, watching as two figures walked into the room.
âTold you we had to be the first ones in, look at these two. All cosy. In our bed.â
âRon! You should be happy that theyâre okay. And it seems more than okay.â
Hermione was positively beaming at the two of them. Ginny had no doubt Harry was blushing as hard as her and she quickly jumped out of bed, followed promptly by Harry.
âNothing happened,â Harry blurted.
â-conserving warmth,â Ginny explained.
Ron and Hermione exchanged a look. Ron crossed his arms over his chest. âWell youâre lucky mum and dad werenât the first ones through this door.â
âDonât be so hard on them- wait. Ginny, are those my pyjamas?â
This is a self prompt from super long ago and I honestly can't remember why I thought of it. But now it's here and I hope you enjoy :)
Available on FF // Ao3
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âWeasley.â
A grunt.
âOi. Weasley.â
Ginny tears off one of her shin guards and tosses it aside haphazardly. Itâs intended to put a stop to Tanithâs endless prodding but Ginnyâs so dead on her feet the guard just clatters against her half open locker. Can a person be dead on their feet if theyâre currently splayed belly down half on half off a changing room bench?
âAlright there?â
âIâd have to be dead a week to be alright,â Ginny mutters, sucking in a shallow breath to keep the drool from passing her lips.
Tanith sits somewhere in the vicinity of Ginnyâs feet and chuckles. âI never thought Iâd have mixed feelings about getting on the National Team - almost makes me wish weâd shown less potential last season.â
âDonât let Gwenog hear you - sheâll have you running the bleachers again,â Ginny says, finally pushing herself up into a seated position. Mostly she motivates herself with the thought that the longer she lies there without showering off and changing, the further she is from a hot meal and soon after her warm bed. Maybe if Harryâs feeling generous she can combine the two.
She rips her remaining gear off with heavy, tired hands and shuffles to the shower for a much needed wash to rinse away the grime and sweat earned after an extended-extended practice. Itâs almost impossible to tell how much time passes while the suds pool and swirl down the drain at her feet, but itâs at least brief enough that the water stays warm and her fingers donât prune up.
In ideal circumstances, Ginny goes straight from a warm shower to a fluffy towel (held open by one Harry James Potter) and following a very thorough drying, slips between freshly washed sheets (sans clothing and once again this bit includes Harry James Potter).
Instead, as a side effect of her profession, Ginnyâs best case scenario is often an oversized Harpy tracksuit and being shuffled into another dreadful Q&A session with the press.
As luck would have it, today sheâs free from press duty so once sheâs tucked back in her sweats, Ginnyâs only a quick review of the three Dâs away from the flat she shares with Harry. And even better, a delicious, warm meal served up by her lovely husband.
She manages to remain upright through dinner but quickly - and unsurprisingly - melts to the floor soon after.
âYou know I think someone should remind Gwenog that a dead but extremely prepared team is still dead,â Harry muses.
Ginny grunts from her place on the floor as Harry pops open another tupperware and pours cooled sauce in with gentle nudges from his spoon.
âItâs my own fault for pointing out how many National Team contenders we have on the Harpies. I would tell you to find somewhere more comfortable but I know youâd just say - â Ginny cuts in to finish his sentence halfheartedly, âIâll only make the sofa stink of human misery.â
âYou smell alright to me.â
âEmotional stink.â
Harry bites his lip and flicks his wand at the empty pots and pans, setting them to soak in the sink. âHow about we take care of the âstinkâ as you put it so dramatically.â
âCanât,â Ginny mutters, face still smushed against the cool tile, âToo dead.â
A couple more swishes from Harryâs wand send the containers toward the now open fridge and he takes one last look to confirm the stove is switched firmly to the âoffâ position to avoid a fiery blaze acting as an end to their Thursday. Harry squats down and prods Ginny with one cautious finger. âIâll help you.â
âI do love a good watery tryst,â Ginny says with a long sigh, âBut Iâll just slip and kill us both.â
To much protest and groaning, Harry rolls Ginny onto her back and puts those extra hours at the Ministry training in âthe muscular artsâ - Nevilleâs term, generally used in the context of âI am not one for the muscular artsâ while he repots another deadly something or other - to good use. Ginny lets out a minor protest, oddly compliant when he slips one arm behind her back and the other under her knees.
âThis is better than the manhandling style you normally use,â Ginny murmurs into his shoulder.
âYou have said on multiple occasions how much you enjoy my âmanhandlingâ,â Harry says with a chuckle, settling her gently on the toilet - that heâd ensured was closed first naturally. She teeters a bit but stays upright as Harry twists the bath taps with a few squeaks.
âIf you set me in there Iâll get so relaxed I may drown.â
Harry gets to his feet, hands finding the drawstring of his joggers, dropping them to the floor and tugging off his socks, shirt, and pants in quick succession. âFear not. Weâre about to have a very non-sexy shared bath.â
âThen maybe you shouldn't have done that little strip for me.â
He snickers and begins working on Ginnyâs clothes - socks, joggers, and her braid are the first to go. Once sheâs down to her sport bra and knickers the non-sexy promise is a bit harder to remember. Especially when sheâs fiddling with the zip on her bra and doing that little smirk. Tempting. Utterly tempting.
Until he sees the dark circles beneath her eyes and the scrapes and bruises that litter her legs and arms. If he wasnât so firmly in the ârespect Ginnyâs professional autonomy campâ Harryâd be tucking her in bed and sending Gwenog Jones a howler to rival that of Molly Weasley.
Much to Harryâs chagrin, this course of action is not one he can take. So instead, he slides the zip down while Ginny runs a finger softly down his cheek. When their gazes lock, Harry pats her knee and reaches behind her with his other hand, grasping for her favorite bath soap. âJust a few minutes now.â
He squeezes a healthy dose of bubble bath into rising water and tests the temperature, swirling two fingers below the rising suds. Satisfied, Harry extends one hand to Ginny. âUp you get.â
âSo bossy.â
âWant me to manhandle some more?â
âAlways,â Ginny says with a grin, but rises nonetheless, and pads toward the tub, slowly slipping one foot and then the next into the water.
Harry follows behind, armed with a brand new sponge and Ginnyâs favorite bar of lavender soap. Ginny settles against his chest while he slowly begins working the soap up her arms in smooth circles. She takes the sponge once heâs scrubbed all the bits of her front he can reach, and works it over her legs. âI miss my silky legs.â
âYou have gorgeous legs.â
âBut my body butter.â
âCan still be used.â
Ginny hums contentedly as Harry reclaims the sponge and swipes in large strokes over her aching back. âYes, but not the same.â
âWhatâs a little bonus hair in the face of bonus shut eye?â Harry murmurs against her temple. âNow let's get the rest of you squeaky clean. Pass me that shampoo, eh?â
After Ginnyâs scrubbed from head to toe, Harry manages to get them both extricated from the tub, dried, and yes, body buttered. Ginny waits, relatively pliant save the stroke of her toothbrush over her teeth. âI think my teeth are even too tired for this.â
âWant me to jump in there and finish up.â
âMm no,â Ginny, âYouâve already buttered me up enough - and I mean that literally.â
She rinses and manages to pull on an overlarge Weasleys Weezes t-shirt before collapsing in bed, Harry close behind in full mother-hen mode. âWhat time do I need to wake you?â
Ginny snuggles further beneath the covers. âIdeally five. No later than half past.â
On soft feet, Harry shuts up the flat for the evening, doors and windows locked tight and lamps shut so the inky night is only lit by the moonâs glow.
When he follows Ginny beneath the covers, she quickly inches close enough to koala bear around his waist. Her nose is cold against his jaw. âLove you.â
Harry kisses her forehead. âLove you back.â
--
Anyone with the thought that Gwenogâs training regimen for the team would settle into a more relaxed lineup as the season wore on was disabused of the idea after their first win. Sheâd been happy, elated as Ginnyâd ever seen her, but their spectacular success only cemented her belief that sweat equity was the only relevant tool for the season.
Ginny for her part did find her body adjusting to the strenuous schedule, muscles sore but overall she felt less dead on her feet - and sometimes not even that - after their first game. Which was a huge improvement, but didnât mean she suddenly had energy to spare for unnecessary tasks. So things like taking out the trash, eating like a normal human, doing her laundry - the latter of which she never much did in the first place - and even shaving her legs fell by the wayside.
She hadnât given the changes much thought overall and Harry was an adaptable, understanding, supportive type, who knows how much she wants to make the National Team, so all is well.
Until Gwen gets her an interview that will âboost her brandâ which allegedly helps out with the National Team stuff as much as performance on the pitch. Ginnyâs just changed into her practice kit - they go wild for her âwild muggle fashionsâ - when the photographer zeroes in on her legs. âWhat is that?â
Ginny raises one brow. Sheâd never been a fan of shoots, even less so when they were run by Cormac McClaggenâs cousin Dan who was somehow more of an idiot, so sheâs particularly prickly when she asks, âWhatâs what?â
âDonât be coy. Your legs.â
âThatâs good, you can identify basic human anatomy.â
âThe hairs - â he gestures again, nose wrinkled, â Is that some statement?â
âIs it a bloody - â
--
âAnd then you bat bogeyed him, right?â
âNo.â
âWell in my head, thatâs what happens next.â
Ginny laughs, sipping her Firewhiskey float - a treat she decided sheâd earned after todayâs undertaking - and pats Harryâs shoulder. âMine too. But the verbal evisceration I delivered was a pretty close second.â
âIâll preface this by saying I have absolutely zero problem with your new grooming practices,â Harry says, fingers brushing over her calf. âBut what prompted it? Itâs more than the time thing. I saw you taking bags out to the bins yesterday. Some of that energy is back.â
âI like that you call my newfound will to live âenergyâ. And I dunno - things have been going so well since I stopped...like not 5th year Quidditch Cup goodâŠthat hairband is a miracle worker.â
âThank you,â Harry says with a smirk.
âSo Iâm feeling a little - â
Harry laughs. âIrrational?â
âSuperstitious,â Ginny shoots back, pinching his side.
âSo what did you say in your interview?â Harry asks, propping his feet up on the table and slouching back.
âI said whether or not I shave is nobodyâs business,â Ginny grumbles around a mouthful of french vanilla. âAnd some other stuff about womenâs bodies and autonomy and value being about more than socially mandated physical beauty. And I mightâve railed on about how the rules are arbitrary and the standards can be emotionally damaging.â
Sheâs swiping her finger through the melted ice cream that lines the inside of her glass and doing her utmost to act unaffected and Harry decides to honor the effort. Mostly.
âThatâs probably important for Witch Weeklyâs reader base to hear.â
âAnd maybe a few other people too,â Ginny adds, taking another swallow and staring into the milky depths of her drink. âSeriously - sometimes I feel like being silky and sometimes I want extra sleep and warm little coats on my legs. Why the hell does it matter to anyone? Least of all Dan.â
Harry toys with the hairs on her legs - now grown out enough to be more in the soft and fuzzy phase rather than the rough and prickly. âGot that right. Want me to braid âem?â
âStuff it.â
âIâm not complaining. If I get the privilege of running my hands all over your lovely body the status of your hair follicles is not really a primary concern.â
as a disclaimer, this was a guest comment on ff.net. as ff.net doesnât allow me to answer, in case you ever do find this tumblr, thanks so much for taking the time to read and comment, and that you trusted me with your opinion on this, i really appreciate it. this isnât meant as a diss at all, itâs just an interesting take.
in light of discussions that have been had re:time in castles and foreshadowing ( @prettyflores - i think that was you?) i thought it would be an interesting reminder to a lot of writers that you couldnât possibly please everybody đ.
and actually, i feel like i ought to say: i did debate having harry stay with mia/an oc (and possibly ginny with someone else) longer than he ultimately does in castles. imo thatâs an interesting take and an interesting story to tell and if anyone on here wanted to write it, iâd be keen to read it. but if youâre following canon, which i am, you have such a tight timeline before she gets pregnant with james that it becomes almost impossible to portray a relationship building, then it falling apart, then healing, then getting pregnant with kids in such a small space of time. you could have her get pregnant off a one-night-stand with harry and build the relationship from there - which is also an interesting take - but i dunno thatâs just not the way i wanted castles to go. in the end, he does end up dating mia for eight months which i think is a reasonable amount of time to show what i wanna show, without it preventing h&g from forming a meaningful connection as a couple before they have james.
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For @sweeethinny who asked for a cute moment between Harry and Remus. You know the drill, Gen Fic, Rated T, nearly 2k words, Jily Lives forever, and I swear there's no typo in the title.
Read on AO3 or below:
*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*
Itâs raining. Harry watches the rain with a growing annoyance, hating how the change in the weather has spoiled his plans for the dayânothing very different from what he does every other day, but stillâand lets out a heavy sigh that makes Uncle Moony turn to him with a fond smile.
âItâs just summer rain, Harry,â he explains patiently. Uncle Moony is always the person that Harry turns to when he needs answers because he seems to know about everything. âYou see, during summer, the warmer temperature increases the humidity in the air, so massive amounts of moist air rise into the atmosphere, where itâs cooler, soââ
âSo it rains,â Harry concludes. Uncle Moony explained to him ages ago why it rains.
He smiles. âThe good part is that it will be over soon.â
âDoesnât look like,â comments Harry, watching the pouring rain. A shiver runs down his body when lightning flashes in the direction of the woods and seconds later the thunder follows it, shaking the windows of the living room.
âItâs a summer thunderstorm. There is nothing to be afraid of.â
âIâm not afraid!â Harry declares immediately, even as the lights in the house flickers, shadowing everything, and goosebumps rise all over his skin. âI just donât like lightining bolts.â
And he rubs his scar absently. Harry doesnât mind his scar very muchâSirius says itâs stylish, and he shows a few of his scars with a pride that makes Mum shake her headâbut he always sees his parentsâ concern if he mentions the scar, so much that Harry tries to conceal it whenever he can with his messy hair.
âI donât think you would,â Uncle Moony answers, his voice grave for a moment. Then he puts a smile back on his face. âBut it helps if you understand why it happens. Itâs just a natural phenomenon, like rain or snow or volcanoes.â
âI wish I could see a volcano,â Harry says distractedly. Then he catches sight of his reflection on the window; the lightning bolt is marked on his forehead. âWhat causes lightning? It canât be like mine.â
âNo, it is not.â Uncle Moony sighs for a moment. âWell, you see those dark clouds in the sky? They are full of water and ice because itâs very cold in the atmosphere. And they are bumping into each other and this builds electricityâthereâs more to it but Iâll explain it better when youâre olderâand this static electricity keeps building as the rain falls until itâs too much and then it shoots down to the ground, and thatâs the light you see.â
âAnd the thunder?â
âWhen lightning strikes, it heats the air too fast, and the heated air wants to expand, but there is already air around it thatâs not as hot. So as the air collides, it vibrates, and thatâs the vibration you hear. But itâs just sound, Harry. Every time you speak you are making the air vibrate, thatâs your voice.â
âSo thunder is just lightningâs voice?â
Uncle Moony smiles. âYou can say it like that, yes. Can I share a trick with you?â
Harry nods excitedly. âNext time you see lightning, you count the seconds until you hear the thunder. The longer it takes, the farther the storm is, so you know it is going away.â
âBecause light is faster than sound!â Harry remembers Uncle Moony explaining to him once. He claps, approving.
âExactly. You are a smart boy.â
âMum says Iâm too smart for my own good,â says Harry, making Uncle Moony chuckle. âIf itâs still raining, are you and Dad going on an adventure tonight?â
A shadow crosses Uncle Moonyâs face, one that Harry doesnât understand very much. His dad and Sirius always look very excited about these adventures, even if they never share much of it with him.
âYes, we will.â He bites his lip for a moment, looking strangely fragile. Itâs a weird expression on an adult, Harry thinks; it reminds him of when kids in school have to confess something to their teacher. âDo you know why we go on these trips?â
Harry shakes his head.
âWould you like to know?â
âYes! No one ever tells me anything andââ
âWhen you are olderââ
âThatâs what everyone says! But Iâm older now!â
âWell, we are always older than we were seconds ago,â Uncle Moony agrees with a smile that doesnât reach his eyes. âSometimes people are afraid.â
âIâm not afraid! Iâm brave, like Dad.â
âThat you are, little stag.â Uncle Moony sighs again, looking at the dark sky outside. âIâll tell you soon, okay? I promise you.â
~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~
They are whispering in the kitchen.
Harry shouldnât be up so late in the night, but he exceeded himself during dinner and now he is thirsty. So he ventures downstairs, not thinking much about it, and then he hears his name.
âI think Harry is ready.â Thatâs his fatherâs voice. âHe is eight, heâs a bright kid. But itâs your call, Moony.â
âI know,â Uncle Moony agrees, sounding tired. âAnd I keep postponing it because he likes me so much and what ifââ
âHarry loves you, Remus,â Harryâs mother interrupts him, her voice gentle and firm at the same time. âNothing will change that.â
âNot even your furry little secret. The opposite, in fact. Sirius always said your fur made you all the more charming.â
âThatâs because Sirius is a moron,â Uncle Moony says fondly. âAnd he always enjoyed misfits.â
âI beg your pardon, I am the most standard boring bloke and Sirius loves me!â
There are a few chuckles and then silence for a moment.
âWeâll be there if you want us to, Remus.â Itâs Harryâs mother again. âJust for support.â
âI would appreciate that. And if⊠if Harry does not want to see me again, I willââ
âRemus.â Now his father sounds upset. âWe raised Harry better than this. We taught him everyone is the same and deserves to be treated equally and fairly.â
âYou taught him about muggles and muggleborns. Werewolves are something else.â
His father retorts something but Harry isnât listening anymore, having taken a few steps back. Werewolves? Like he saw once in a movie that gave him nightmares for a week, that wolf that would hunt innocent people and kill them andâ
And that was not Uncle Moony at all, was it? Perhaps heâd heard it wrong. Uncle Moony, with his light brown hair, tender face and the biggest patience Harry has ever seenâhe couldnât be a monster.
He traces back his step, careful not to make any sound, and closes the door to his room carefully. Then Harry kneels by his bookshelf, searching for a battered book that he read to exhaustion one year ago: his edition of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them.
Itâs one of the last entries, Harry remembers. It was not the most interesting beast, so Harry didnât obsess over werewolves as he did with dragons (Sirius refused to give him one for his birthday but he promised to take Harry to see one someday), griffs (Mum said there wasnât any at Gryffindor, sadly) and winged horses (Dad said they could travel to see one, but brooms were nicer).
There isnât much information about werewolves, nothing beyond Harry supposes he already knew, though he doesnât really remember his parents or Sirius ever mentioning anything. Perhaps someone mentioned at school, one of those legends that even muggle kids knew about. But the book mentions full moons and now that Harry pieces the puzzle, he realizes how each of his fatherâs adventures always happens once a month and if he would notice the night sky, he bets he would see the full moon shining.
So, yeah, Uncle Moony is a werewolf. Hm, Moony. Now it makes sense.
The dangerousness classification is XXXXX, the most dangerous kind of beast. Harry would accept a certain danger for his mother occasionally, and he bets Sirius can be dangerous too, but⊠Uncle Moony? The guy who allows him chocolate even before dinner and that knows all about everything that is to know, and that helped Harry with his calligraphy once? That guy is as aggressive as an owl.
And the book seems to agree with him. âWhen there is no full moon, the werewolf is as harmless as any other human,â he reads the footnote aloud.
Yep, Harry has no trouble with Uncle Moony.
The book also says that werewolves go after humans, and then Harry guesses that his father becoming a stag and Sirius a dog means that this way they can be with Uncle Moony every full moon. Thatâs nice, he supposes. If Uncle Moony turns into a âmurderous beastâ, itâs better that he has his friends there to tell him everything will be fine; thatâs not really him.
There is only one thing Harry has to do now.
He wakes up early the next morning, even before Mum, and goes to the library. He searches first in the highest shelves (he guesses that if he wants to hide a book, thatâs where he would keep it), but he hasnât had any luck so far when the door opens suddenly.
Harry stumbles, almost losing his foot, and turns in time to see Uncle Moony looking at him.
âHey, watch out,â he says, rushing to help steady the stairs. âMorning reading?â
âI was searching for some books,â Harry admits, biting his lip. âBut there isn't anything about becoming an animagus.â
Uncle Moony grins. âYou may be too young for that, Harry. Maybe you should need a wand firstââ
âBut thatâs only when Iâm eleven and⊠I need to become one now!â
âYou reminded of James, thatâs what he said when we were thirteenââ
âIâm almost thirteen!â, Harry declares, knowing fully that he is not. âI want⊠I want to help you. Like Dad does.â
Uncle Moony blinks, his smile slowly dissipating. âHelp me?â
Harry sits on one of the couches of the room, legs crossed. âI think so. Thatâs what Dad does, right? Dad and Sirius? IâI heard you last night.â
âYou did?â
Thereâs such an alarming expression on Moonyâs face that Harry feels suddenly worried. âI didnât mean to, I know I should hear behind doors, but I⊠I donât care, you are still Uncle Moony!â
âYou⊠thatâs not how I wanted you toââ
âI donât mind, really, and if I become an animal, I can go with you too, right? I can be adventurous.â
âI think you are already, Harry.â He sits on the same couch, though at the opposite end as if he doesnât want to be closer to Harry. âYou⊠I promise I will never hurt you, I never get closeââ
âI know you wonât hurt me. You are Uncle Moony.â He rolls his eyes at his uncleâs foolishness. âAnd I know you are not dangerous. See?â He fumbles until he picks up his edition of Fantastic Beasts to show him one of the last pages.
Next to the entry of âwerewolfâ in the book, Harry added a small comment: Werewolfs arenât all bad.
âI know youâre good, Uncle Moony.â
Something shines on Moonyâs eyes, and he opens his arms. âCan I hug you?â
What a silly question, Harry thinks, jumps into his uncleâs arms. He smells of milk chocolate as always.
âWhat animal do you think Iâll be?â Harry asks, keeping the important questions here, but all Uncle Moony does is give him a chuckle that sounds a little strangled.
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