[mal-studyblr]

hey quick PSA but “reading before bed to wind down” only works if you’re normal about books btw. if you aren’t you are going to end up awake at 2:52am after finishing the whole book just trust me on this one

[starlingflight-deactivated20260]

not sure why so many fics assume the ministry host lots of galas but it’s a fun idea. I like the idea of Ginny getting to buy a new dress and getting her walks down the stairs and takes Harry breath away princess moment.

A/N: the Ministry hosts lots of galas so we fic writers can indulge in lots of festive fluff! On that note, Alexa, play The Way You Look Tonight…

Ginny hadn’t felt nerves like this since the last time she’d found herself facing off against a Death Eater.

On that occasion, her fear had been justified. The killing curse that had passed her by mere inches had demonstrated with bone-chilling clarity, just how close she’d been to mortal peril.

Of course, she was in no such danger now.

It was astounding, really, how much circumstances had changed from one Christmas to the next. Last Christmas Eve, she’d spent the night in her bedroom, tossing and turning, unable to stop her restless mind from wondering…

So many questions had plagued her: where were Harry, Ron and Hermione? Were they safe? Would she ever see them again?

Now, just one short year later, returned to the very same bedroom where last year she’d buried her head in her pillow to smother the sounds of her desolate sobs, she had the answers to all of her questions; and while her hands were trembling, it was not sorrow that caused Ginny to shake.

“You look perfect!” Fleur declared. Clapping her hands together in delight, she took a step back to admire the image of Ginny in the mirror affixed to the wall in front of them.

“Are you sure?” Ginny resented the nervous quiver to her voice.

It was ridiculous, utterly stupid really, to be so consumed by nerves at the prospect of attending a frivolous Christmas Ball, but no matter how much Ginny told herself as much, the flutter of fairies currently swirling madly in her stomach refused to settle.

“C’est magnifique.” Fleur stepped back to her, adjusting the flowing cape that fell from the back of Ginny’s emerald, off-the-shoulder gown. “Tu es magnifique.”

“And my hair is–”

Fleur reached up, halting Ginny’s hands before they could tug at the carefully arranged strands where the top had been pinned back. “It is striking. All eyes will be on you.”

Far from being reassuring, this statement caused Ginny’s heart to thud more erratically. All eyes would already be on her, that much was inevitable when one attended an official Ministry function as the date of the Saviour of the Wizarding World.

Already, she was anticipating the articles that would be dedicated to her in Witch Weekly over the coming weeks. Ginny was under no illusion that they would be any more flattering than the ones she’d been the subject of in the summer, when she and Harry had first been photographed – without either of their knowledge – together in Diagon Alley.

People, of course, expected the Chosen One to be with someone sophisticated; someone glamorous; someone whose idea of good time was slightly more high brow than a game of pick-up Quidditch in the orchard with her brothers.

Suffice to say, Ginny had not been judged by the general population to meet those lofty standards.

Looking in the mirror now, however, Ginny hardly recognised the hollow-eyed, sallow skinned, morose girl that had appeared unwittingly in print a few short months ago.

Fleur had worked a miracle more powerful than magic.

The silk dress she was wearing – borrowed from Fleur – hugged curves Ginny didn’t even know she possessed. The bodice was tight fitting, the waist cinched flatteringly and the skirt flowed gently to the ground. A charm of Fleur’s own invention – as she’d informed Ginny proudly – caused the light material to shimmer faintly with every slight movement Ginny made.

Her usual careless mass of waves had been battled into uniform loose curls, and the front had been pulled back in a complicated braid that had been secured with two gold and emerald pins that she was already panicked about the prospect of losing before she could return them to Fleur tomorrow.

Her assumption that Fleur would be less than helpful with makeup, given her genetic predisposition to require none, had proved patently incorrect. In truth, Ginny wasn’t even sure if whatever potions and tonics Fleur had covered her face in technically counted as makeup.

Ginny still looked like herself, all her defining features – including the multitude of freckles she usually attempted to disguise – were still perfectly visible, but every imperfection she tended to dwell on seemed to have faded into obscurity, leaving an overall impression that she was struggling to find fault with.

“You are ready,” Fleur said, her tone leaving no room for Ginny to argue.

She might look the part, but she certainly didn’t feel it. The dress, the hair, the makeup, were all a façade, one she was sure would crumble under even the lightest of scrutiny.

Suddenly, going head to head with a murderous Death Eater didn’t seem like the worst option.

It wasn’t an option at all. The only option Ginny had was to allow herself to be led out of her bedroom by a triumphantly grinning Fleur, whose grasp on her hand was vicelike and utterly inescapable.

They reached the Burrow’s rickety staircase; Ginny’s free hand gripped the bannister for dear life. She descended, willing herself to remain steady on the unfamiliarly high heels that had seemed the perfect compliment to the gown in her bedroom, and now seemed like a death trap designed to bring about her public humiliation.

Thankfully, mostly due to Fleur’s graceful lead, she made it to the bottom of the stairs still upright.

“Wait there,” Fleur commanded, finally dropping Ginny’s hand. “You will make a grand entrance.”

“I don’t want to make a –” But Ginny may as well have made her protests to the wall. Fleur had already pushed open the kitchen door and peeked her head around it.

“She is ready,” Fleur announced.

And then, without further delay, she opened the door fully, and stood aside, gesturing for Ginny to proceed.

“It’s just me,” Ginny said, shaking her head as she stumbled into the kitchen. “There’s no need for all the –”

Her mother’s loud gasp drowned out the rest of her sentence. It was quickly followed by a general murmur of surprise from the rest of her family assembled in the kitchen.

Briefly, she was aware of Mum’s hands covering her mouth, and her eyes widening in silent shock, and Ron’s quietly muttered ‘bloody hell’ but none of it really registered; Ginny’s eyes had bypassed them entirely, falling immediately on Harry.

He was sitting in the chair beside Ron’s at the kitchen table, both of them were already outfitted in sharp black dressrobes, and Harry had made some attempt to tame his hair, though disobedient tendrils were already starting to escape, begging Ginny to run her hands through them.

“Wow,” he said, stopping Ginny in her tracks before she could follow that particular urge. His eyebrows lifted high over his glasses and his mouth was slightly agape. The way his eyes roved over her made her previously frantic heart stutter and fail. “You look… wow.”

At least she could assure herself that the burning in her cheeks had surely turned them a festive shade of red. “Is that a good wow or..?”

“It’s a really good wow.”

A smile that had not felt anywhere close to surfacing for most of the afternoon broke free on Ginny’s face, and even Ron’s obnoxious voice couldn’t hope to banish it. “All right,” he nudged Harry on the shoulder. “Stop looking at her like that.”

But Harry’s eyes remained glued to Ginny, not even flinching as though Ron was nothing more than a mildly annoying fly. “Like what?”

“Like your eyes have been replaced with love hearts,” Ron replied. “No offense mate, but it’s disgusting.”

“Don’t stop looking at me like that,” Ginny disagreed.

She couldn’t argue with Ron’s assessment of Harry’s current expression, but, far from finding it as revolting as her brother did, Ginny’s nerves seemed to be melting beneath the warmth of Harry’s adoring gaze.

His mouth curved into a smile that set her heart racing once more. “I wasn’t going to.”

“I want photographs!” Mum declared, already bustling into the living room, evidently to fetch both Ginny’s father and the ancient camera housed in the cabinet.

“I will help with the lighting,” Fleur declared haughtily, following after Mum.

“I’m going to pick Hermione up,” Ron said, giving Harry another shove as he stood from the table. “I’ll see you at the Ministry – try to wipe that expression off your face before then; you’re going to put me off my dinner.”

“Nothing has ever put you off your dinner,” Harry replied, standing and lightly returning Ron’s shove.

“And you’ll be too busy looking at Hermione to care what we’re doing,” Ginny added.

Ron had no reply to this, most likely because of the accuracy of the statement. He merely shrugged, giving the pair of them a silent wave before slinking out of the backdoor.

Alone now, Harry crossed the kitchen to her side.

“You really do look beautiful,” he said earnestly, his hands falling to Ginny’s waist to pull her closer.

At that moment, she suspected she was capable of glowing without the aid of Fleur’s enchantment.

She shrugged as she lifted her arms, letting them come to rest around Harry’s neck. “Well, you know, Christmases in recent years have just been so magical, I knew topping them would be a challenge, but I decided to rise to it.”

Harry huffed in dry amusement. “You really didn’t have to do anything to beat the freezing cold tent, or the really festive Christmas at Grimmauld Place complete with depressing hospital visit.”

Ginny shook her head, biting her lip against a smile that broke through anyway. “Ah, but what about the year you got in a fight with the Minister for Magic? I know that was a personal highlight for you.”

Harry’s forehead came to rest against hers, so that his lips almost brushed Ginny’s when he spoke. “I’m not really sure it’s a compliment, but this dress even tops that.”

She was still smiling as his mouth found hers. The warmth spreading in her chest was caused by much more than Harry’s kiss. It had nothing to do with their inappropriate jokes, or their finery. It was simply that they were both here, wrapped in one another’s embrace, with a lifetime of happy but uneventful Christmases stretched out before them.

The very prospect had seemed so impossible just a few short months ago, that the certainty of it now made Ginny’s head spin.

As was usual, she had no opportunity to find balance before they were interrupted.

“Ginny! Harry!” Mum’s voice called from the living room. “Come in here, your father is going to take pictures in front of the Christmas tree!”

Reluctantly, Ginny pulled her head away. Harry’s grip tightened on her waist, silently confirming that he too recognised this was to be their last moment of peaceful solitude for several long hours.

“Ready?” Harry asked, one of his hands slipped from her waist and entwined with hers.

Ginny nodded, keeping her eyes locked with his to combat the nerves threatening to resurface within her. Everything would be fine, she knew, as long as he was there. “Just don’t let go of my hand.”

“With you looking like that?” Harry shook his head incredulously. “Don’t worry, I plan on keeping you firmly beside me all night.”

[redheadwannabesblog]

Third time’s the charm

I finally got around to posting something to AO3.

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

The first time- December 1998 

Harry was lying on his side as the sun slowly filled the room with light. He’s been up awhile counting. He was counting the freckles on her face, wanting to remember each one. Not wanting to forget anything about this moment, here, with her. 

Ginny was lying next to him, her pale skin nearly glowing in the morning light, her pink lips slightly parted as she slept. They slowly curved into a smile when she said with her eyes still gently closed. “I can feel you staring at me.” 

He laughed lightly. “Can you blame me? Ive never gotten to see you like this, first thing in the morning.” 

Her eyes blinked open, her warm brown eyes turning to him. 

“I must be quite the sight. I’m sure my hair is a mess” she said as she rolled to her side to look at him better. 

“You look perfect.” He said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, to him she was.

“Perfect huh… I’ll take it” She grinned and leaned into kiss him. He pulled her close to him but she pulled back. 

“Don’t even think about it” crawling out of bed and pulling on his discarded shirt from the night before. 

Harry groaned and said “whhhyyy?” Drawn out like a child’s whine.

“Because I promised mum we would be there for brunch. It was hard enough getting her to accept that I was staying at yours tonight. I’ll never hear the end of it if we are late too.” She started gathering her clothes and the small bag she had for toiletries.  “Plus imagine the Mickey everyone would take if we stroll in after they’ve all sat down.” 

“We could just get married, then they wouldn’t have anything to say.” The words came out before he could stop them but once they were out he didn’t want to take them back. 

“HA” she laughed sharply. “Yeah married before I even graduate, that’ll go over great. Very funny..” She chuckled lightly clearly thinking this was a joke. 

Harry lifted himself to sitting. “I mean it. We could. After you graduate. Your mom can’t complain about you living with me if I make an honest woman out of you” 

“Now we are living together. I stay over the first time and you are so clingy” she looked up and saw he wasn’t laughing. Her hands went to her hips “you can’t actually be serious?!” 

“I am”

“ this is your proposal. I should be a teenage bride so my mum isn’t upset I’m living in sin.” 

“Well… 

She shook her head “and this is how you ask… honestly Harry. Sometimes I think you’ve taken a few too many bludgers to the head. I’m taking a shower. Start getting ready ok.” 

She closed the bathroom door and his head dropped back to the pillow. Well that didn’t go as well as he would’ve liked he thought before getting out of bed to get ready. 

continue reading on AO3

[paancakeenthusiast]

Sometimes you just gotta take the tree on the tube

[ginnyw-potter]

No need for knitted socks

Read below or on AO3

By the noise behind the door to the kitchen, Ginny could tell that she was one of the last ones to arrive for dinner at the Burrow. She admired the holly that adorned the windowsills. She had helped her mother clip them and decorate all around the house with it the previous weekend.

She opened the door and smiled at her family in greeting.

Ron was nearest the door and eyed her. “How are you?”

“I’m good,” she replied in confusion as she unwrapped her scarf from her neck.

Ron never asked her spontaneously how she was—it wasn’t really warranted because they saw each other about three times a week.

She walked further and George stepped aside for her, letting her through easily. She started getting the sense something was off and she watched their expressions to find out what was wrong, but they all looked perfectly normal. There were no frowns or silent tears. Everyone looked relaxed.

She caught the eye of her husband who was in a conversation with Bill about the upcoming law reformation for goblins on the other side of the crowded kitchen. He smiled at her in greeting.

Despite the fact that they would need to eat in the sitting room because the kitchen had gotten too cramped, most of them were hanging out here and chatting, having a tea or a drink and Fleur and Charlie dutifully helped her mother prepare dinner. All seats were taken as usual but this time her father rose from his seat and offered it to her even though he complained about his achy joints only all the time.

“Oh, no. I’m good, dad. Thanks,” she said, squeezing his hand and gesturing for him to sit back down.

Her mother’s expression caught her off-guard because she did look teary-eyed. Ginny glanced at the rest of her family and noticed they had all fallen silent. Another look at Harry offered her no explanation, he just smiled at her. He too had paused his conversation, as if he was waiting for something to happen.

“What’s going to happen with your career, Ginny?” her mother asked.

“Uh…” She thought she was doing perfectly well. “What are you on about? I’ve played three games in a row as Chaser—I thought they were pretty pleased with me.”

“Yeah,” Bill said. “Until now.”

“Practise is going great,” she insisted, although she though Bill’s reply was… peculiar.

Fleur looked up from the soup she was stirring. “How do you feel, Ginny?”

Now that truly weirded her out because while she was friendly with Fleur, they were not close by any means. They did not have heart-to-hearts and news about each other usually streamed through her brother.

She paused and it was still quiet. Everyone was looking at her.

“What’s going on?” she asked. “Why are you all being weird?”

Harry made her way to her, picking up the Daily Prophet as he went. He pushed it into her hands and helpfully pointed at the article before squeezing her shoulder as he stood behind her.

“It leaked to the press, sweetheart,” her mother said. “I’m sorry.”

With wide eyes she read the article that announced her shocking, unexpected and secret pregnancy.

“What!” She turned around to Harry, waving the newspaper. “You know this isn’t true! Why didn’t you tell them!”

As confused noises erupted around them, Harry chuckled. “Well, I… they were being so nice and you complained last week there is never a chair free when you arrive and now people would be making space for you and offering you seats like that and I thought you’d enjoy that for a minute.” He grinned at her.

George and Charlie burst out laughing but the rest of the room was still quiet.

“I am not pregnant,” she clarified to her family, “and if I ever were, you’d find out before it hits the papers, I would make sure of that.”

Her mother looked at her, jaw dropped. “I already knitted some baby socks for Christmas this morning!”

“I am sure they will not go to waste,” Ginny commented, gesturing at her family. She tossed the newspaper on the table and turned to Harry. “You’re unbelievable.”

He shrugged innocently. “You said it yourself—if I need to clarify and dispute everything that’s written about me then I’d never get anything else done. I took your advice, my wise wife.”

“Yes, just this once,” she snorted. “Did you settle yet who is bringing what dish for Christmas?”

You’re excused for everything,” Harry told her. “You’re welcome.”

“Forget about that,” Ron said indignantly. “I think you should make extra things now as compensation.”  

She gasped. “This is on Harry, not me!”

“Is that how you thank me?” her husband let out.

“Shut up,” she told him but brought her arm around his waist. “I’m happy to cook any of the dishes.”

As her dad began to summarise the dishes they had planned she turned to Harry.

“Bet you had fun with that,” she whispered.

“Lots,” he confirmed. “Ron has been asking me questions all day. If it was planned, how long we have known… how I hadn’t told him yet.” He wore a satisfied grin. “I had a delightful day.”

[starlingflight-deactivated20260]

Sometimes, I worry I make Harry’s pining for Ginny too intense and then I re-read canon and realise I’m actually not doing enough:

From all of these things, Harry deduced that Ginny, and probably Neville and Luna along with her, had been doing their best to continue Dumbledore’s Army. This scant news made Harry want to see Ginny so badly it felt like stomach ache; but it also made him think of Ron again, and of Dumbledore, and of Hogwarts itself, which he missed nearly as much as his ex-girlfriend. -DH, Chapter 16, Godric’s Hollow

[starlingflight-deactivated20260]

Hello! I came across your name on reddit, looked you up, and you’ve honestly made me fall in love with Hinny all over again! I’m genuinely curious, what makes you love them so much?

A lot of people claim Harry was only physically attracted to Ginny, that it was just lust and never would’ve lasted, but I completely disagree. I think people overlook the quiet friendship between them, how easy they are with each other, how natural they feel together even when they’re not “best friend” close. They relax around each other in a way that feels like they’ve known each other their whole lives. And their values line up so well. That’s a huge part of why they work. I’m a strong believer that when you share that kind of foundation with someone, similar priorities, similar worldview, and can have open and honest conversations with them it creates a relationship that’s actually strong at its core. I do wish we had more canon hinny, but as someone who’s fairly new to the hp fanfiction world I’m so glad you’re here!🫶🏼

Well, my one and only mission in life is to give hinny the flowers they deserve so this is very lovely to read 🥹🩷

I think trying to explain why I love hinny might be where my articulation fails me but I will try (beneath the cut because this is LONG):

First of all Brother’s Best Friend is just an excellent trope and they do it so well. Harry tearing himself apart because he doesn’t want to jeopardise his friendship with Ron (the person he would miss most in the world 🥹) but in the end it doesn’t matter because he simply cannot stay away from Ginny. That’s not lust, that’s the kind of love you can’t ignore even when it would be easier if you could. Chef’s kiss 🤌

And then there’s their dynamic. They just GET each other. They don’t need all these big overt moments on page, their relationship isn’t fraught with misunderstanding like Ron and Hermione (no hate to Romione, love them too). They have these secretive little looks before Ginny can even properly speak around Harry, because they just seek each other out. It’s instinctive.

Then we have the ‘I forgot’, ‘lucky you’ scene. Harry needs someone to call him on his bullshit, Ginny is there to do it. He forgets about her whole diary debacle, something that a lot of people might find hurtful, but all Ginny wants is to not be treated like a victim and Harry never does treat her like that. He says sorry, she accepts. Could these two ever hold a grudge against each other? No. It would kill them.

There’s the chocolate in the library scene that shows how well they read and trust each other and Ginny who’s been longing for Harry for years, is just fully ready to push that aside and give him advice about Cho because she thinks that will make him happy. Ginny Weasley, they could never make me hate you 😘

And can we just talk about ‘anything’s possible, if you’ve got enough nerve.’ - they are two halves of the same whole. They literallly share a brain cell.

And yeah, they do find each other hot but that’s a super important part of a relationship, especially for two restless, impulsive idiots (affectionate).

The way Harry thinks about Ginny — from the very start — is pure poetry (a few of my favourite examples):

She dived under the table to retrieve the bowl and emerged with her face glowing like the setting sun. - CoS

Ginny was curled like a cat on her chair, but her eyes were open; Harry could see them reflecting the firelight. - OotP

He felt a strange twinge of annoyance as she walked away, her long red hair dancing behind her. - HBP

Harry looked around; there was Ginny running towards him; she had a hard, blazing look in her face as she threw her arms around him. - HBP

Ginny gave Harry a radiant smile: he had forgotten, or had never fully appreciated, how beautiful she was, but he had never been less pleased to see her. - DH

^^^ this is not just lust. This is ‘she makes me want to write sonnets.’

And everything I’ve wrote above (and a million other things I’ve restrained myself from saying bc this getting long) is enough for me to ship them, but it’s not what makes them my OTP.

They both have incredibly hard starts in life. They’ve both had to deal with darkness most other people can’t imagine. They’ve both felt alone, and ignored, and neglected. AND THEN THEY FIND EACH OTHER.

There is no one in the world that deserves a happy ending as much as these two, and there’s no one else in the world who could give the other Happily Ever After. I just don’t know how you can be normal about that 🫠

[redheadwannabesblog]

Hinny gets tattoos

This HC is heavily inspired from some beautiful fanart I’ve seen over the years but I think they have the following tattoos. 

Harry gets a stag on his arm. 

Harry at his stag night after a drunken dare from George gets “Ginny” tattooed in small print over his heart near the scar from the killing curse. Ginny loves it so he keeps it. 

After Harry gets her name on him Ginny surprises him with a snitch on her shoulder blade with “HP” blended into the etchings. 

When Ginny wins the World Cup she gets the three quidditch rings on her side. Years later she updates it with the names of her children written into the hoops. 

[redheadwannabesblog]

Hinny writers being so generous this week

brilliant works out by @tedwardremus

@ginnyw-potter @starlingflight

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[ginnyw-potter]

Front Page News

“It seems like you had fun last night,” Harry told the shape hidden under the duvet.

She grunted. “It’s the Chudley Cannons. It was okay.”  She turned around, her face appearing above the duvet. “How was the stakeout? Did you just get back?”

“Dreadfully boring. We do have a couple of people we still need to identify that could be a lead.” He leaned on his elbow and looked at her. “Way less fun than you had.”

She squinted at him, nearly pouting. “Why do you keep saying it like that?”

He held up the newspaper. “You are in the paper.” It was snatched out of his hand. “Front page.”

“No!” Ginny let out entirely mortified as she sat up against the headboard. “Everyone is going to think I’m a Chudley Cannons fan!” She threw the paper aside and reached for her night stand. “Where is my phone. I need to yell at Ron for winning VIP tickets.” She untangled the charger and pulled her phone off it, raising it triumphantly.

Read in full on AO3

[blvnk-art]

hinny and kisses

[pottermum]

I’ll reblog everything from @blvnk-art

[tyashj]

Random hinny moments caught on camera

[simplemoonk]

Harry ‘imagining Ginny in a wedding dress at the age of 17’ Potter

[ashotofogdensoldfirewhiskey]

Fighting

@ginnystrophyhusband microfics, prompt from yesterday (Aug 11): Fighting.

The Butterbeer is bubbly and sweet, and doing its very best at evoking the innocent nostalgia Harry had craved while falling just short of achieving it. 

He and Ginny are huddled together at a table in the back corner of the Three Broomsticks. It had seemed like a good idea, when he’d suggested it - coming here. They could finally go on a normal Three Broomsticks date like every other Hogwarts couple in existence, and share a cheeky butterbeer and a snog at a corner booth like they would’ve done last year if everything hadn’t gone to shit. 

In retrospect, perhaps making him feel normal again was a heavy lift for a butterbeer. 

“How’s Selwyn’s case coming?” Ginny asks, in a sporting attempt to combat the pall that seems to permeate the pub. 

He tells her – shit – and they spend a few minutes abusing the crap system that had allowed Selwyn to become so influential in the first place. She updates him on Quidditch and classes and the new ridiculous meetings Slughorn has organized to encourage them to talk about their feelings or some other rubbish that Ginny clearly finds distasteful. 

“--nobody says a word, unless it’s bloody Zacharias Smith trying to act as though he was integral to the war effort, the twat.”

“I supposed they’ve got to do something, haven’t they?”

Ginny raises an eyebrow. “Oh, and I suppose you’d be spilling your guts to Slughorn?”

“No need,” Harry says, lifting his drink again. “I already have a standing appointment with Ron on Tuesdays.”

She doesn’t laugh like he expects her to. She offers a tight smile, a beat too late. “What’re Ron and Hermione up to, then? I can’t believe they haven’t joined us.”

In truth, Harry does not want to imagine what his two friends might be doing in some hidden corner of Hogsmeade, a courtesy that he sincerely hopes Ron extends to him and Ginny as well. “Dunno. Enjoying themselves, I’m sure.”

“I’d’ve thought you’d want to, you know. Be together. The three of you haven’t been all together in months, have you?”

Harry furrows his eyebrows, perplexed by her question. “Well, I see Ron nearly every day…”

“Yes, but not Hermione.”

“Well, no.” 

He’s not quite sure what she’s getting at, and fights the sinking sensation and the thought perhaps she hasn’t been looking forward to this time alone quite as much as he had, that she’d rather have hung round with everyone together. 

“I just… I know the three of you have a… a bond, or whatever,” Ginny says, gesturing vaguely as though to illustrate it, and Harry finds that she won’t quite meet his eye. “They can join us, if you like. That’s all I’m saying.”

Harry opens his mouth to respond but realizes he hasn’t a clue what to say to that. “What? I mean yeah, I suppose…”

Ginny has started to peel the label off of her bottle of butterbeer. “Hermione misses you both. Loads. I can tell.”

“I’m sure she misses Ron a bit more.” 

She looks frustrated by his attempt at a joke, and Harry’s concern heightens. She presses again. “You know what I mean.”

“I… really don’t, actually,” he says. 

Ginny looks up from her tattered label and has something like resolve in her eyes. “If you wanted to see them, so you can, I dunno, talk or whatever, I get it–”

“What the hell would I need to talk to Ron for?” he laughs, though it sounds sharp even to his own ears. 

“I don’t know. Whatever you talk about at your standing appointment on Tuesdays–”

“Hang on,” Harry says, stung. “You know I was joking.”

“Do I?”

Harry stares at her, a leaden, sick sort of feeling in his stomach. Her mouth is pressed together in a defiant line, and her normally warm eyes are wary, defensive. The thought occurs to him far too late. 

“You’re angry with me.”

He can see the way she tries to wipe it from her expression, but the anger clings stubbornly to the furrow in her brow, the aversion of her eyes. “No. It’s– look, we haven’t seen each other in months, let’s–”

Harry wants to be sick. This isn’t how today was meant to go. God, he’d spent every day thinking of her, missing her, trying to pretend to be the version of himself that she brought out - lighter and funnier and more carefree. But he’s not any of that shit, not without her. He’s never really considered the prospect of losing her before, but the thought hits him bodily now. 

What’s the point of any of this if he doesn’t have her? 

“Gin,” he pleads. “What’s going on? Please just tell me, so I can fix it.”

Ginny flinches irritably, and his stomach sinks further. “Tell you? That’s rich.”

“Wh–”

“How about you tell me for a change?” Ginny snaps, setting down her butterbeer rather forcefully. “Anything about what happened with you last year, how you’re coping with it, I dunno, anything.”

He’s never been on the receiving end of her ire before, and it cuts deeper than he cares to admit. He lowers his drink to the table and says, “Alright.”

But the words don’t come. He stares at her, eyes burning in a way that stings, and he realizes all at once how it all must seem to her: that she was shut out, that he reserved his private thoughts exclusively for Ron and Hermione, his more trusted confidants. But he hadn’t meant to. He hadn’t wanted that - or at least, not for the reasons she must think. 

Frustration bubbles at his inability to communicate what he thought had been utterly obvious. But perhaps it hasn’t been fair of him. They understand each other so well – she so often can read him better than he can read himself – that he’s taken it for granted that she knows what she means to him without spelling it out. 

He can try to spell it out. He can try. 

So, he does. “Look, there were some things I couldn’t tell you before because it was dangerous, and–”

“Harry, I know that–”

“Please,” he begs, reaching out and gripping her hand. “Let me say it.”

She looks for a moment like she might argue – that little stubborn crease appears between her eyebrows – but she relents. 

He takes a breath, realizing as he says it how unfair he’s been to her. “But the truth is, even if it wasn’t dangerous, even if Dumbledore had said I could… I didn’t want to tell you before.”

He regrets the way the hurt sweeps across her face so immediately, so clearly, and he rushes to explain. “My life hasn’t been really… well… you know. The Dursleys. And then… Voldemort, and everything that came with it…”

He finds he cannot look at her directly, as though she’s the sun, and stares after an excitable crowd of third years passing by their table instead. “You were the best thing that had ever happened to me,” he says baldly, truthfully. “It felt like… like I got this taste of what my life might’ve been without Voldemort. Like I could be normal. Happy. With you.”

He looks up and she’s still staring at him intently, though her eyes seem a bit softer. “I didn’t want to tell you about any of it, because when I was with you I got to pretend there wasn’t anything to tell. And that’s bollocks.”

Ginny blinks.

“I hate it if… if I made you feel like I didn’t trust you. I did. I do. You just… made me so happy. Make me so happy. I didn’t want to… to spoil it. But you… you’ve got to know that I don’t give a fuck if we see Ron and Hermione today, because all I’ve been thinking about for the last two months is getting to see you.”

She lets out a breathy laugh, her eyes blazing in the way he loves so much. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

She grips his hand and stares down at the table. Harry can’t quite read her expression, but he desperately wants to know whether he’s botched it all with this admission. Whether he’s hurt her.

“You make me so happy,” Ginny says, finally looking up and squeezing his hand. “But I want to be with you, all of you.” 

“I want to be with–”

“I won’t be a holiday from your real life anymore, alright?” she says firmly, her eyes flashing. “I want to know all of it. Even the bad stuff.”

His heart stutters, and warms. “I don’t want you to be a holiday.”

“Well, good,” Ginny sniffs. “Because I’m ginger, I burn to a crisp in the sun.”

He chuckles and pulls her toward him around the booth, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. She wraps an arm around his middle, and it’s tempting, so tempting to breathe in the comforting scent of her; to crack a joke and lift her chin so that he might steal a kiss from her soft lips like he’s been aching to do for months. But he doesn’t.

“What do you want to know?”

There’s so much to say, and yet it strikes him they have all the time in the world in which to say it. It’ll take more than one conversation to undo the dynamic he’s unwittingly fostered with her, but it’s a start. And really, that’s all he’s ever wanted with her, much better than a holiday in a life that's felt destined for nothing but endings: a beginning.

[several-sunlitdays]

hinny hbp missing moments:

pic credit: colin creevey

[redheadwannabesblog]

HBP hinny missing scene. This feels new.

I saw a post about Hinny’s first time assuming it was Harry’s first but definitely not Ginny’s. I can’t imagine Ginny sleeping with anyone before Harry. People forget how young she was and are so determined to paint her as a slut because she had 2 boyfriends at 14 and 15. Anyway wrote this little exchange to address it.

——————————————————————

Harry had excitedly pulled Ginny into an empty classroom. He’d spent all day in detention with Snape. Seeing her waiting for him after was like seeing the sun after a storm. He pulled her in tight and kissed her deeply. A moan pulled from his throat as she pushed herself against him.

Ginny pulled back slightly, her ears turning lightly pink as she glanced down between them.

“I’m sorry” he said jumping back realizing what had startled her.

Ginny smiled and reached out to touch his face. “It’s ok, I was just a little surprised” She lifted up her face trying to kiss him again but Harry was so embarrassed he pulled away.

“Really Harry it’s ok, you don’t have anything to be embarrassed about.” She slipped her hand through his hair and tried to pull him down to her face. “ We don’t have much time before curfew. Kiss me”

Harry kissed her lightly then put his head to her forehead. “I’m sorry this is all just a bit new to me” he whispered.

Ginny leaned back. “And it isn’t for me?” Her tone more offended then comforting.

Harry anxiously spat out “No… that’s not it… I just meant… you know I’m still getting used to… I didn’t mean to say it wasn’t new… not that it would bother me if it wasn’t … I’m not assuming anything…”

Ginny put a finger his lips. Harry was grateful she stopped his rambling.

“Ask the question you want to ask Harry. It’s ok.”

“I don’t know …” Harry paused not sure how he had gone from pure joy to pure confusion so quickly.

Ginny walked to an empty desk and sat on top of it. “You want to know what I’ve already done with my previous boyfriends.”

Harry was a little startled not sure how she’d gotten there. “That’s not my business and it wouldn’t matter to me anyway.”

Ginny wrapped her arms across her chest. “I know what people say about me. Hell even what Ron thinks about me. But it was never like that”

Harry listened as she went on.

“Michael and I kissed a few times. Honestly it was awful. He used way too much tongue, it was like snogging a St. Bernard.” They both made a small laugh.

“Dean and I were together for months. We did snog a lot and I let him feel me up a bit but it never really felt right so it didn’t go any further.”

Harry felt a wave of jealous hit him but seeing the sad look on her face he ignored it. “You didn’t need to tell me. You don’t owe me or anyone an explanation.” He reached to touch her hand. Ginny sighed “ I just don’t want you thinking that I’m some…” she rolled her eyes and shook her head “some Scarlett woman with way more experience than you.”

Harry let out a full laugh. He touched both side of her face and kissed her.

“I could never think that.” He smiled down at her and she smiled back.

“Good because it’s all new for me too. It’s different with you… it feels right.”

Her hand slid through the back of his hair and she pulled him down. “Now where were we”. They pulled each other close and stayed there well past curfew.

[tedwardremus]

What is your headcanon as to what happened to Marietta? JKR said the curse on her face was permanent. Did Marietta ever marry? Ever have kids? Stay alone for the rest of her life because of her looks. What job do you think she had? Do you think she'd take her own life?

I refuse to believe that Marietta was just “scarred for life” and everyone moved on. That moment has always struck me as deeply upsetting, even thinking about how I want to respond to this question is making me a bit upset. I want to cry for Marietta. I want her to have justice.

This is one of those times when J.K. Rowling pushed the “girlboss” version of Hermione too far. Which would be fine, if Hermione had learned something from this incident. If she was called out for it. If she learned what she did was wrong.

I like complicated Hermione. I like that she’s brilliant and passionate and full of contradictions. But I also believe Hermione crosses ethical lines, and when she does, there should be consequences.

That’s why I struggle with the idea of her as Minister for Magic. She acts too much as an individual, with absolute certainty in her own moral compass. And that compass isn’t always rooted in kindness or compassion, even though she is a kind and compassionate person at heart. She's complex, which is good, but sometimes the narrative doesn't present her as complex; she's this superior almost god-like figure with abilities that can do no wrong, yet she absolutely fucks up all the time.

What she did to Marietta was wrong. Permanently disfiguring a classmate—especially one who wasn’t fully aware of the consequences when she signed the DA contract—is horrifying. I don’t think that should be brushed aside or reframed as cleverness or "that's what happens in war".

Honestly, I don’t see how someone easily recovers from that. I imagine Marietta had a hard life afterward. I hope she left the country, put distance between herself and all that trauma. I hope she found someone who loves her, who makes her feel beautiful no matter the scars. I hope she built a life far from Hogwarts, far from shame, and full of healing. I hope she lives.

[pro-dumbledores-office]

I fully agree with everything here. One of the things about Hermione that is not discussed often is that she is remarkable and kind and amazing but she takes things too far.

This is not the first time we witness Hermione take things into her own hands in a way that is not responsible and not always ethical. The other big example that comes to mind is her response to Rita Skeeter. Do not get me wrong, Rita Skeeter is a terrible person, and she deserves everything she got. However, what sort of 14 year girl takes vengeance on a reporter by locking her in a jar for several weeks and blackmailing her for the next year? It is sort of demented if you think about it long enough.

The one thing I disagree with you about is that I think all of this is exactly how Hermione makes sense as a Minister for Magic. In politics, there are a lot of ways to the top, but competence (sadly) rarely seems to be one of them outside of wartime situations. However, overzealous morality that drives someone to railroad all opposition beyond what is reasonable and ethical? That is certainly a path to the top and combined with Hermione's distinguished war record, I think this explains how she one day becomes the leader of her people.

[tedwardremus]

Yes, Hermione could become Minister for Magic. She’s a well-known public figure, highly competent, and ruthless in a competition.

But I would argue that she shouldn’t become Minister.

It feels like the wrong ending for her story, especially because we never see her reckon with, or grow beyond, the more tyrannical aspects of her teenage years.

Hermione as a politician who’s never faced consequences for her extreme behavior? That’s not a triumph arc, it’s the beginning of a villain origin story.

[redheadwannabesblog]

Always hated this loose end. Here’s my version of wrapping it up.

Post by @redheadwannabesblog

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