Chris. He/him. Writer 1% of the time, staring at a blank document 99% of the time. Hinny & Anidala <3. Hurting Liverpool FC supporter. Proud lover of extreme fluff. Ask me anything :D
I have had a few people message me asking when the next chapter of "A Tale of Love and Hate the Wizards' Way" is going to be posted, so I figured that I would make a post here as well. First off, I really appreciate every single one of the messages, it means the world to me. Please, never stop.
When I finally posted the first two chapters of that story, I promised myself that I would post twice a month. But I'm afraid I already have to break that promise. Life has hit me pretty hard this month. And whenever I did have time to write, no real progress was made. So, unless I manage to pull a miracle these last couple of days, there will be no update until December.
Due to IRL reasons, my mental health has suddenly taken a huge drop. That has unfortunately impacted my writing, and although chapter four is done, I'm just not happy with it. The story went where I wanted it to go, but when looking back at it. I do not feel the joy and excitement, that usually accompanies finishing a new chapter. There is no sense of accomplishment.
So that is why the new update is even more delayed. And it probably will not be posted until I get that feeling back.
Ginny stared at the invisible group of children in the middle of the living room as Lily’s giggle echoed through the room, followed by a shush from her big brother.
Harry didn’t bother to look up. “Trust me, dear. You will never find our children. They’ve hidden so well.”
She nodded. “They have outdone themselves certainly.” Her hands landed on her sides. “I don’t think they’re downstairs at all.” She tip-toed over to her husband, careful not to bump into her three invisible kids. “And since they’re not here...” She leaned toward Harry.
He looked up at her, gaze soft, his eyes crinkling as he bit back his grin. As her lips neared his, several spluttering objections erupted from the middle of the room, especially from their two sons.
“Gross!” James yelled, escaping the cloak first and making a beeline for the door.
Albus pulled the cloak off him and his sister, he stumbled backwards, frowning at them as he made his escape.
Grabbing onto the cloak, Lily’s big eyes followed her brothers and then looked back at him. She blinked and then with a toothy grin she pulled the cloak back over her head.
Ginny gave her two seconds to hide. Then she stood up and followed the giggling toddler into the kitchen. “I am going to get you!”
The giggles grew louder, the pitter-patter of her feet audible on the tile floor as she walked away from her mother.
Harry appeared at the other side of the counter. “Quick Lily, make your escape. I’ll distract your mum.” He winked at Ginny.
“Okay!” the toddler replied.
Ginny faked a gasp and ducked after the toddler. She pulled the cloak off her daughter and kissed her head. “Good job, Lils.”
i know i haven't been active on here in a hot minute and this is not the way i was hoping to let y'all know im still alive. some of you may have heard some stuff about this already over on ava's (@justadmiringanakin) blog but i need to bring it up here too.
it being stealing stuff. if you're gonna be inspired by a fic and wanna make your own version of it - then make your own version.
this is not meant to stir up any drama but i feel not only limited but also very much entitled to discussing this matter on here.
the fic i'm talking about is it all started with a road trip by ravenheartxvi, which currently has one chapter published with not only the exact same premise and setting as road trip but dialogue, internal thoughts and literal paragraphs that are just a little too close to be considered "inspired by". which is something that multiple people have agreed on and i'm sure anyone who has been reading road trip even semi-attentively can see.
the author has tried to justify this by saying that the actual road trip part is just a means to set up the story but however insignificant they brand this part to be, it is still copying. starting with the opening scene, which is set up the exact same way (phone call, same problem, same solution to said problem). and it just continues from there. i can go into deeper detail but i'm not sure that would make them see reason.
again, i'm not trying to start a war here. just trying to protect what i've spent hours of my free time creating.
i guess what im saying here is: copying isn't cool. doesn't matter if it's one line, one paragraph or an entire fic premise.
@hinnymicrofic June 15 "Coffee," Muggle AU, Coffee Shop <3
Harry isn’t trendy enough for this shop, that much is obvious.
The bulletin boards are plastered with advertisements for several local bands and a poetry slam; the chalkboard lists at least ten different types of milk alternatives and more flavor shot options than he thought possible; and some indie song he’s never heard in his life blares from the speakers.
He considers turning around, but decides the day calls for coffee more than it calls for a tactical retreat, and he presses on.
He’s still staring at the menu, upon which every order has been assigned a kitschy nickname, when he arrives at the front of the line, trying to decipher how to order an americano without making a tit of himself. The barista asks what he’d like and he panic-orders a plain black coffee so there’s no room for error, the pain in his voice apparent. He starts digging around in his wallet for his credit card, and it isn’t until he goes to hand it over that his eyes land on the barista and he freezes.
Fuck she’s pretty.
It’s an annoyingly blokey thing to think, but he thinks it, and keeps on thinking it as her lips quirk into a smirk and her amber eyes glint with amusement at his expression and she tucks an errant strand of coppery hair behind her ear.
“Do you really want a black coffee?” the local goddess moonlighting as a barista asks, her nose scrunched in amusement. “Or did you panic?”
Panic is an ongoing state of affairs, frankly. “Er…” he says, in a fruitless attempt to kick start his brain. “How could you tell?”
“Call it a barista’s intuition,” she says with a wink. “Plus you look like you were having a tooth pulled trying to read the menu.”
“The fuck’s nitro cold foam?”
“Nothing you’d ever order.”
“You don’t know that,” Harry says obstinately, ignoring the way speaking with her seems to be having the same effect as the four shots of espresso he’d intended to order would have. “I’m very difficult to read.”
She snorts, and he’s not sure whether to be offended or enchanted. “Let me guess,” she narrows her eyes. “You want straight espresso.”
“How–”
“You look too tired for two. A bit too young for four. Three shots?”
“I’ll just have a nitro cold foam, thanks.”
“Sure,” the barista says with a chuckle. “Only, that’s supposed to go on top of an order.”
“Well, shit.”
She laughs, and Harry decides right then and there that he likes this shop, after all. Might be his new favorite place.
“I wanted four, actually,” he admits.
“Rough day, eh?” the barista says sympathetically. His eyes flit down to her nametag, Ginny, and linger for a beat too long. Her smirk tells him she notices. “For future reference, if you want four espresso shots you can order the Déjà Brew, double.”
“Fuck’s sake, that’s terrible.”
“It’s revolting,” she agrees cheerfully and turns around to pull his espresso shots, revealing that the back of her is as tragically fit as the front.
She hands him his drink a few minutes later. “Enjoy. Don’t expect you’ll be visiting again, eh?”
I will if you’re here. “Never know. Could do.”
“I hope so,” she adopts a decidedly wicked expression that does something funny to his stomach. “It’ll be just like Déjà Brew.”
He lets out a bark of laughter. The joke is objectively terrible, as is everything about the hipster shop.
Harry climbed out of bed, trying his hardest not to wake Ginny. He walked down the stairs into the kitchen and put the kettle on.
Harry hummed to himself as he waited for the water to boil. He grabbed two mugs off the shelf in front of him, putting a tea bag in his mug and a spoonful of coffee in Ginny’s/ Harry knew Ginny wouldn’t talk to anyone before her morning coffee but after that she would drink tea for the rest of the day.
The water had just boiled when Harry heard footsteps behind him.
“I woke up and you weren’t there,” Ginny yawned.
“I wanted to surprise you with coffee in bed,” Harry smiled.
“Well, I’ll head back up and you can bring the coffee with you,” Ginny suggested.
“Or, I could do this,” Harry walked over to Ginny and pulled her into a hug.
Ginny didn’t even try and fight the hug, in fact she melted straight into it.
“I don’t want a coffee now but if i stay like this I will fall asleep again,” Ginny muttered into Harry’s chest.
Harry hugged Ginny for a few more minutes before letting her go, “We still need to go to work so I’ll reboil the kettle.”
Ginny sighed but a few moments later she hugged her mug and sipped her coffee, enjoying the early morning routine she had with Harry.
Ginny cinched her dressing gown tighter as she crept down the hall. On principle, she was not an early riser, however when she’d stirred awake and not recognized her surroundings, the resulting jolt of adrenaline had dashed any hopes she had of going back to sleep.
Then she heard voices. Muffled, and agitated, and coming from the other side of the house.
Harry always came back from his playdates with Ron Weasley extremely dirty.
Molly had tried to apologize to them about that once. Lily had laughed it off. “Boys will be boys,” she’d told her son’s best friend’s mother.
“We’re sorry about Harry getting Ron into all this trouble,” James had added. “I’m sure he’s the instigator.”
Thus had borne the friendship between the adults as well.
This last one, though, had had her eight-year-old son grumbling like never before. “It’s not going to be just Ron and me this time!” He complained. “His whole family will be there.”
“Sounds like fun to me,” Lily had said, trying to wrangle him into decent clothes rather than the garish monstrosities he liked to wear at home. James’ influence, certainly.
“It’s not,” Harry whined. “Fred and George are cool, but Percy is the worst. He doesn’t like playing and is all smug about going to Hogwarts and is always lecturing Ron an’ me about getting so dirty!” He sniffed and crossed his arms. “And Ginny’s a girl!”
“What’s wrong with that?” She asked amused. “I’m a girl, I’ll have you know.”
Harry waved it off with childish imperious impatience. “You’re Mummy,” he said importantly, like those things were mutually exclusive. “’S different.”
“Oh, is it?” Lily began tickling her son mercilessly. “I’ll show you what girls can do!”
Harry began to giggle helplessly, attempting to fend her off. “Stop, Mum! Dad! Dad, help!”
It had grown into an all-out tickle and pillow war, with the boys ganging up on her before she trounced them handily.
“Don’t underestimate girls, son,” James had groaned at Harry, who nodded miserably in reply.
They’d sent him off with hugs and kisses through the Floo, and Molly came in their fireplace to announce his safe arrival.
“He loves Ron,” James assured her. “And he’ll get over the others being there. He’ll have fun.”
Lily smiled at him mischievously. “And whatever will we do while he’s there?”
They had plenty of fun themselves, and were waiting for Harry to come through three hours later.
He was practically glowing, despite being so incredibly dirty.
“She’s amazing!” He said, starstruck.
They exchanged a look with raised eyebrows. Their son looked to be in love. “Who is?”
“Ginny, of course!” Harry exclaimed, like they were ridiculous for not knowing when he hadn’t ever expressed anything like this. “She played awesome! She was on my team, and we beat everyone!” He beamed.
“Wow,” James said enthusiastically. “She sounds great.”
Harry nodded wildly. “And she flies really good, Dad. Better than you, even!”
Lily highly doubted a seven-year-old girl flew better than someone who could have gone professional, but amused at their son’s gushing, they humoured him. “Oh really?”
“I’ll have to fly against her, then.” James said, smiling.
“She’ll beat you,” Harry assured them. “She’s the best. I told Mrs. Weasley that she should always be there to play with us.”
“So she’s a better friend to you than Ron?” James asked.
Harry looked conflicted, before his face cleared. Lily couldn’t wait to hear his reply. He adored Ron from the bottom of his heart, but it looked like Ginny was his first crush. She couldn’t believe her baby was so grown up already.
“No!” He exclaimed. “Ron’s my best friend. Like Uncle Sirius is to you, dad!”
“And what is Ginny?” He asked.
“She’s what Mum is to you!” Harry said, obviously very pleased with himself. Lily and James both choked, in laughter and shock. “I’m gonna marry her someday!”
Lily recovered first. “Sure thing, big boy,” she ruffled his hair and he pouted up at her. “But now you need to go wash and get all that dirt off you.”
He nodded easily – he was an obedient child except for his wild streak – and made his way up the stairs to his room. Lily and James stared at each other.
“His first crush,” James said, sounding half-pained, half happy.
“Apparently, he’s going to marry her one day,” she said, experience the same mixture of emotions. “Let’s not tell him kid crushes don’t usually work out.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” James grinned at her. “Mine did.”
“Oh, shove off!” Lily grumbled playfully, but she was smiling.
“I was eleven years old when I got my first crush, and I did end up marrying her.” James continued. “Who’s to say Harry won’t?”
“Who’s to say indeed,” Lily laughed, kissing her husband.
Harry and Ginny’s story would certainly prove to be interesting.
Lily couldn’t wait to see that and the rest of her son’s life unfold.
so @brightlybound asked what already gone would be like with the roles reversed, to which i replied "don't give me more fic ideas!" but i couldn't stop the brain rot and this happened anyway. thanks for all the love brightly!!! you yelling about already gone h/g has been an endless source of joy and cackling <333 i've written this little crack au just for you and it is appropriately titled already here
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Harry sat up a little straighter in his hospital bed as the door to his room opened and a slight figure, with waist length red hair, slipped into the room. Ron and Hermione were arguing about something over the top of his legs, but for the life of him he couldn't remember what. He thought it had something to do with Ernie MacMillan, but now they were going on about Magical Games and Sports and he couldn't be bothered to play catch up.
Ginny didn't acknowledge any of them, and went straight over to the Healer station to read through the latest additions to Harry's chart. For the shortest of moments, a little pang of annoyance reverberated through his chest, then he remembered that Ginny was now his wife, and was free to peruse his medical history as she pleased.
Wife.
She was his wife.
No one had told him how it happened. His days-long bout of unconsciousness, after he'd found out about Sirius, had everyone pretty tight lipped with further details. It was maddening to know little snippets of how his life at twenty-one looked, and yet have absolutely no context for how he'd gotten there.
"I'm telling you," Ron declared loudly. "He started in chess before getting promoted. He never worked in International Cooperation."
"Yes, he did!" Hermione shot back, her tone bordering on furious. "Because I had to work with him on that export of illegal chimera cubs!"
Ron shook his head and looked ready to let loose another retort but Harry cut him off.
"Can-" He cleared his throat, keeping his eyes on Ginny, who in turn, still had her gaze firmly fixed on the parchment in her hands. "Can I talk to Ginny for a moment?"
She glanced around to meet his stare, her brown eyes sharp and a little furrow appearing above her nose. On either side of him, Ron and Hermione exchanged a silent conversation made up of raised eyebrows and shrugs. They must've come to some sort of consensus however, because they both stood at the same time and Ron murmured a quick, "We'll go get tea."
Ginny maintained her wary expression as Hermione gave her shoulder a little squeeze then ducked past her. Ron followed soon after, shutting the door behind him and then they were alone. Alone for the first time since Harry had awoken to find his limbs too long, his friends almost unrecognizable, and the only family he'd ever known to be dead.
Sliding Harry's paperwork back into its slot, Ginny made a show of crossing her arms and frowning at where he sat on the bed. He hardly wanted to have this conversation tucked into the bedsheets like an invalid, so he tugged the blankets aside and moved to stand.
"Don't-" she murmured with a pleading edge to her voice. She'd taken two steps closer in the time it'd taken him to swing his feet around to the side.
Harry huffed impatiently and scowled back at her. "Last I checked, my head was causing all the problems. Not my legs."
Her hard gaze didn't waver, and she apparently didn't consider this statement worthy of a response.
He stayed sitting anyway.
"I have questions," he began.
"I expect you do." Ginny leaned into another step, with her arms still crossed and her eyes flicking down to her feet. "That doesn't mean I have to answer them."
The annoyance he'd felt earlier shifted and heated into full blown irritation. "If you think I'm going to be alright laying here and eating casseroles-"
Ginny spoke over his outburst before he'd even picked up steam. "You're going to have to be."
Harry narrowed his eyes and decided if she could ignore his assertions then he was well within his rights to disregard hers.
"We were... friends," he struggled uselessly, trying, and failing, to ask his first question somewhat delicately. "What changed?"
Her throat bobbed, like it was difficult to swallow even though the look on her face remained impassive.
Harry couldn't stand it. "What changed!?"
Blinking a few times, her reserved mask slipped and her eyes turned blazing.
"Nothing!?" Ginny threw her hands into the air impatiently. "Everything!? But I'm sure as hell not going to sit here and try to prove myself to you!"
Turning on her heel, she stormed toward the door, and cool regret leaked into his bloodstream. He shouldn't have let his own composure slip.
Harry stood and lunged after her.
"Wait-" His hand closed around her elbow just as she reached for the doorknob. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that. I just..."
He trailed off, unsure exactly of what he was trying to say. Ginny kept her back to him and he heard her pull in a shaky breath.
Errantly, like a stray thought, Harry observed just how petite she was. Ginny had always been quite short, but Harry also had a lingering malnourishment to him, so he'd never thought much of their difference in size.
Until now, when he stood next to her nearly a full head taller.
His fingers tightened around her arm in question. She turned enough that he could see the look on her face, and the unshed tears clinging to her lashes.
He let go in an instant, guilt and discomfort spearing through him like a lance.
"I'm sorry," he said again, taking a step back toward his hospital bed.
She swiped at her eyes in clear fury and Harry couldn't tell if it was directed at him or that fact that he'd seen her cry.
Maybe both?
"It's not an easy story to tell," she said eventually. "And I'm not getting into it when you've only been conscious again for a day and half."
Harry nodded, not really registering her words as much as the clear worry that shadowed her face.
A beat too late, he realized she was waiting for a response and he rushed, "Yeah, okay."
Ginny nodded once, her hard exterior replacing the momentary show of vulnerability. Harry stood watching her, scratching a loose thread in the sleeve of his patient robes and waiting for her to leave.
She didn't.
Instead, after a few moments of glaring at him, her shoulders slumped in time with her exhale and her face twisted into agony. He only had a split second warning before she closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around his ribs.
Harry stood quite stunned for a second, at a complete loss for what to do next.
Thankfully, Ginny didn't allow him to remain clueless. With her face buried in his chest, she choked out a muffled, "Hug me you idiot."
He muttered another quick apology and did as instructed.
Not seeming to mind that his hold around her shoulders was stiff, she clung to him without reservation as her breath hitched with more unshed tears.
Harry had not been the source of much comfort in his life, at least in the parts of his life he could still remember, but Ginny seemed to be receiving some kind of ease anyway. Little by little, he relaxed into it, into the feel of her tucked into his embrace, into her hands fisted in the robes at his back, and the scent of her wildflower hair.
Time stretched, and it could've been several minutes or several hours for all the attention he was paying the clock on the wall.
Ultimately, however, Ginny's hold did loosen and she sucked in a shuddering sigh as both their arms dropped back to their sides.
She stared up at him, her expression a bit sheepish, but also with a hint of something so unapologetic, he wondered if it wasn't so much her feelings in that moment as much as it was her constant state of being.
"I guess I'm not coping as well as I thought." She sniffed, wiping her eyes and shooting him a self deprecating grin.
Then Harry realized she was pretty.
No, that wasn't right. She'd always been rather pretty, but in a girlish, innocent type of way.
The Ginny that stood before him now was stunning. Shining copper hair cascaded down her shoulders in loose waves. Freckles dusted her cheeks and nose, etching constellations down to her neck and collarbones. While her bright amber eyes were lit from within by a fire that looked like it could burn the world down three times over if she had the inclination.
"Do-" Harry began in some lame attempt at making amends. "Do you want to stay? We don't have to talk!" he added quickly. "Or we could talk about something else? But I understand if you don't want to talk at all. Really, either works for me. Talking, or not talking, I mean-"
This startled a laugh out of her and Harry felt a deep rooted elation take hold at being the cause of such a thing.
"If you say 'talk' one more time," she said in reply, "I'm going to throw myself in the river."
Harry blinked. "What river?"
She breathed out a chuckle, but she couldn't hide the trace of sadness that pinched the corners of her eyes.
"Do you think we could..." she hesitated, and Harry noticed her twist a thin gold band around her finger. "Just for a little while longer?"
Harry's eyes blurred a bit at the edges, a new emotion gripping his lungs as he took in her hopeless expression.
He nodded, and with a relieved sigh, she folded herself into him once more. Prepared for it this time, he tucked his chin on the top of her head and let the swirling flowery scent of her engulf his senses.
He'd committed it to memory long before she let go.
Ginny nibbled on the end of her pencil, thinking hard.
Harry thought she looked adorable doing that. He didn’t understand her fascination with doing the Daily Prophet crosswords, but he was absolutely fascinated by watching her do them.
“Class C Non-Tradeable whose shoots, bites, spikes and juice are venomous,” She said aloud. “What do you think, Harry?”
“I’m not Neville, Gin,” he said dryly, but then last month’s case of plant smuggling came to mind. “But try ‘Tentacula’.”
She hummed as she counted the boxes and scribbled in them. “You’re right. Thanks, love.” She leaned over to peck his cheek.
He grinned as he sipped his coffee. He loved their lazy mornings before they had to rush to the department or practice. “No problem.”
“Hmm. . .” She frowned at the next hint, seconds later. “Synonym for ‘flawless’. Seven letters.” She made a triumphant. “Oh, I’ve got it! It’s—”
“Ginevra,” he finished, smirking.
Ginny turned to him and raised an eyebrow. “I’d be upset at being called by my full name if you hadn’t just labelled me perfect.” She was grinning, but she turned solemn quickly. “Harry, you know I’m not perfect.”
“I know you aren’t,” he agreed easily. “You’re hot tempered, vicious, stubborn, and. . . Well, you know how I am.”
“Oblivious, guarded, angry, obsessive?” She said with a smirk.
“Yeah, those things,” they both chuckled. Harry, deciding there wasn’t a better time, feeling his body thrum with nerves, went down on one knee. Ginny gaped.
“Ginny, it’s you and me. It’s you and me, now and forever. We may not be perfect individually, but we can try to make our lives as perfect as they can be, together. I vow to choose you, to support you, to argue and make up with you, to love you every day of the rest of our lives, as I already do, if you let me. Want to make it official?”
“Of course I do,” she said softly, smile nearly blinding. Harry stood up and they kissed, long and deep. The sheer amount of happiness he felt made his head spin, dizzy with joy. “What about a ring?” She asked curiously, cocking her head to the side.
“You can get out your own ring,” Harry grinned. “You know, the one you were planning on proposing – I hope to me – with? I found it.”
Ginny slapped his chest gently, pouting. “First of all, damn you for stealing my thunder.”
“Ouch, Gin, that hurts,” he said, mock pained. “I didn’t steal your thunder! I found it last week! How is it my fault you didn’t propose in that time and I decided this was a good time for me to do it?”
He knew perfectly well he could have waited for the time Ginny wanted to do it, and a part of him did regret that he would now never know the experience she had planned, but well. . . For him, this had been the perfect time. He couldn’t wait any longer. He loved Ginny more than anything, and knowing she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him both honoured and thrilled him enough to be impatient about it.
Anyway, she just ignored his protests.
“Secondly, you’re the most socially oblivious person I know. How in Merlin’s name did you find the ring or know I was going to propose?” She asked incredulously.
“Hey, I’m not that bad,” Harry said defensively. She snorted. “Okay, fine, whatever. I found it when I was humouring Hermione’s latest cleanliness fad. You remember she was going on and on about cobwebs and corners. You’d left the ring in the corner of the bookshelf, so while I was dusting there. . .”
He shrugged. It had actually been a really good hiding place, because neither of them was an avid reader, and Ginny, who always used spells in household work, would probably not have imagined that even if Harry got it in his head to clean that space, he would do it the muggle way rather than with magic. But Harry had grown up Muggle, and for cooking and cleaning, he liked to revert to that.
Ginny sighed. “I cannot believe I forgot you like to do stuff like that the Muggle way,” she muttered to herself. “Or that you actually follow Hermione’s obsessions.”
He shrugged, putting his hands in his pockets. “She’s my best friend.”
“Fair,” Ginny grinned. “Let’s go get the ring.”
“How were you going to propose?” He asked as she got out the ring. Harry smiled at that small life-changing box, feeling happiness in that space of his chest instead of sadness or bitterness or grief, like he usually did with Ginny and his friends.
“Honestly, I wasn’t fully decided. I considered making a really huge deal, like after one of my matches, but I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about a public proposal like that—”
“As long as it was you, I would have been fine,” he insisted. He didn’t like the public scrutiny of him or their relationship, but about their engagement, on their own terms, as long as it was Ginny. . . It sounded amazing.
“You’re sweet,” she said, and kissed his cheek. “Otherwise, I thought about going with you when you guest lecture at Hogwarts, and taking you to one of our old haunts in the name of reminiscing and letting you find the ring there.”
“Wow,” he laughed wryly. “You’re a lot better at this thing than I am.”
“I wouldn’t say this was at all bad,” she smiled at him, eyes sparkling. “You did start with saying I’m perfect, after all. Better keep up the compliments, Potter.”
“Oh, not a problem at all, Weasley.” He looked at the ring she’d slipped onto his finger. It glistened in the light. It was gorgeous. Ginny knew his tastes exactly. “Or soon to be Mrs. Potter. Want an engagement ring too? We can go buy one together. I do not know your ring size.”
“Sure,” she said, admiring the ring on his finger too. “And yes, I will be taking your name.”
“Cool.” He felt his smile was far too large for his continued health. They kissed. “The ring is perfect, Gin.”
“Like me?” She teased, and he groaned playfully. Clearly, he was never hearing the end of that. “Mum’s going to go ballistic.”
Harry winced, remembering how insane Mrs. Weasley had gotten in the lead-up to Bill and Fleur’s wedding. He really did not want to go through that again, this time in context of him and Ginny.
“If we wouldn’t want our whole family there, I’d say we ought to elope,” Ginny sighed wistfully. Harry wished they wouldn’t have to make a whole to-do about it too. Then suddenly an idea struck him. “What if we could elope with all our family and friends there?”
Slingshots is a fix it fic where Harry and Ginny both go back in time to their 11/10 year old bodies, not intentionally. It is a WIP that is slowly updating, but I have never heard anyone talk about it!
The Protector is a fic from Madame Pince's perspective as the Golden Trio grows up. A short one shot that I just love
take what i took and give it back to you a one shot where Ginny Weasley is Harry Potter's soulmate, but she isn't Harry Potter's. According to Harry. I don't know if it is underrated, but I love it
Back to the Eclipse I will never write a summer post war one shot because I don't think it will top this
Like Passing Notes in Secrecy IT IS SO FLIRTY!! I reread this just to giggle to myself
Through Shadows also a WIP where Harry gets kidnapped after the Triwizard Tournament and only Ginny notices
I am sure there are so many long fics that I love and are considered "underrated" but they are not coming to mind right now
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Chapter Twenty-Six: Exhale
Here's the latest chapter! It's a little bit of a... building chapter, shall we say. Also, I'm sorry it took me so long to update this week. It's been a morning.
Anyway, don't forget to drop a review. They motivate me and maybe, maybe, if you're amazingly kind this week, you may get a two posts from me next weekend. NO PROMISES but I would love to update Brumous and maybe also the one-shot or maybe the next chapter of Bête Noire (the later two are both so close to being finished).
2 chapters in one day! I’m super excited by this one. It loved writing it and re-reading it makes me smile. I hope it brings a smile to all of your faces too!
Also Read on: FF.net or AO3
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First Night - May 1998
Ginny didn’t wanna move. Her bed was too comfortable to even consider getting up. She was warm and cozy under her blanket. The idea of staying there all day was so tempting.
Movement.
A sudden movement on the mattress made Ginny’s eyes shoot open. Her heart pounded wildly in her chest as she took in her surroundings. She was clearly in her childhood room at the Burrow. There was the beat-up dresser and frayed poster of Gwenog Jones. Nothing was out of place or different…. Except for the fact that there was another person in her small bed.
Even if she’d only been able to see the messy jet-black hair, Ginny would have recognized Harry. How he’d ended up in her bed was a mystery to her, but clearly, he’d gotten comfortable seeing as he was drooling on her pillow. He looked so peaceful in his sleep. His brow wasn’t furrowed, and there was no hard set to his jaw.
The temptation to touch him, run her fingers down his cheek, grew stronger with each passing second. Hell, she always wanted to touch him, if she was being honest. Every second over the past three days, all Ginny had wanted to do was touch him, hold him, be with him. There had been moments where she’d been able to, like during the funerals.
Fred’s funeral.
Drinking around the fire with her brothers, Harry, and Hermione.
Waiting for her brothers to start heading tipsily up to their rooms before asking Harry to come to her room.
Memories flooded back to her like a dam had broken. She could remember her taking Harry’s hand. Sitting on the bed with him. The scent of the campfire clung to him. What had she done? What had they done?
Her head throbbed as she tried to remember. Panic rolled in her gut as possibilities started running through her head, starting with —
She lifted the blankets from her chest, taking in the old shirt and shorts she wore. Her heart slowed down, realizing she and Harry hadn’t… that she wasn’t lying naked with her ex-boyfriend.
“Wh —” Harry groaned, his body turning towards her.
Ginny didn’t wanna wake him, but he couldn’t stay in here. If her mother did one of those nightly checks, she’d been prone to since the battle…
Happy May 10th to all the Hinny hearts out there! Here's a mini fluffy ficlet to celebrate a very important day. And a shout out to @niyatipr for the reminder.
Summary: Harry brings Ginny home a gift to celebrate an important day
Relationships: Harry Potter / Ginny Weasley
Rating: T
800 words | Read it here or on AO3
“Hey!” Ginny called from the next room as he entered the front door. “I’m just finishing up this article. Gonna be working just a titch late.” He could hear the clack of her typewriter even as she spoke, and he knew she’d not even looked around.
Harry smiled to himself as he pulled off his cloak and hung it on the peg in the entry way, then turned into her study. Sure enough, she was sitting with her back to him, her red hair, just a little streaked with grey, swept into a messy knot atop her head, clacking away at her typewriter. “Maybe we can just do something easy for dinner?” Ginny suggested as she paused to check a fact on the hand-written notes on the desk. “Spag bol or something?”
Harry rested his hands on her shoulders from behind and leaned down to kiss her cheek. “On such an important day as today? I thought maybe I could take you out tonight?” He pulled the small parcel out of his pocket and placed it on the corner of the desk.
Ginny’s fingers paused over the typewriter keys distractedly. Her brown eyes had settled on the small box tied with a ribbon, and Harry suppressed a smirk as he watched the frantic cogs working in her brain as she tried to remember what was special about today. She picked up the box and fingered the ribbon for a moment before finally, conceding defeat. She looked at him at last. “And what’s the occasion?”
“What?” Harry cried in mock outrage. “You can’t have forgotten our first-kiss-iversary?”
Ginny looked back at him, and he saw her lips tighten into line for a moment. Then the laugh burst out in a snort. The sound made Harry loose control of his determinedly affronted expression, and he grinned widely.
“First-kiss-iversary?” Ginny choked, her nose wrinkling in the way he loved. She reached out and untied the ribbon from the box. “What, are we teenagers? You do recall we’re in our forties with three grown-up kids, right?” She tossed the lid to the box and the ribbon into the bin on the floor, then paused. A small frown appeared on her face as she pulled out the four-by-two inch piece of plastic inside. She flipped it over, then flipped it back. One delicate finger prodded uncertainly in one of the holes in the center. A thumb brushed across the words scribbled in pink ink:
Harry & Ginny 4ever 🩷
“What is this?”
Harry was really trying hard not to laugh. He was only partially successful. “It’s a mix tape.”
She raised an eyebrow at him blankly, and his grin widened. “It’s to record music.” He leaned over to wrap his arms around from behind, feeling the tickle of her hair against his cheek. “Muggles would record their favourite songs from the radio on here, then they’d put these tapes in a machine called a cassette player, and they’d be able to listen to them whenever they wanted. A tape recorder came across your dad’s desk at work, and he asked me to show him how it worked.”
“Okay… And you’re giving this to me because…” But Harry felt Ginny smiling against his cheek.
“Because it was a thing that normal teenagers would do for their crush. You and I… we never got to be normal teenagers so much. But if we had been normal… Oh, you can bet I would have made you a mix tape.”
Ginny was quiet for a moment. Then she rose to her feet, breaking Harry’s embrace. He stepped back to make room to slide the chair out from between them as she turned; but she closed the gap again almost instantly and put her arms around his neck. She was smiling at him in a way that stated quite clearly that she thought him a bit of an idiot. “You’re such a dork,” she said, confirming his suspicion.
“You love it,” he replied, bending his head to kiss her gently, one hand trailing through the wisps of hair at the nape of her neck that had escaped her bun.
“I do,” she replied as he pulled back. And with a hard, blazing look on her face, she gripped the front of his robes and pulled him closer to deepen the kiss.
And though it had been twenty-six years since that first kiss, though they both now had grey in their hair and lines on their faces, he still smiled against her lips at the exhilaration of her mouth against his, of her hands against his chest, of her warmth beneath his touch. He kissed her with abandon and let himself be lost in a memory of another time and another place but also very much this time and this place.
“Harry,” Ginny mumbled against his lips after several long moments, or what might have been half an hour, or possibly several sunlit days.
“Mmm?” he asked, not breaking away.
“You know we don’t have a castelette player or whatever, right? So I have no way to actually listen to this.”
“Yeah, didn’t really think about that,” he mumbled. And plucked the tape from her fingers and tossed it in the bin before gripping her hips and hoisting her sit on the desk.
He transferred his kiss to her jawline as she roared with laughter. “Such a dork,” she muttered affectionately between chortles.
Just a random guy online @randomguyonline71 - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
