#batsbogey

[percyignatius--weasley]

When You’re Home: [ Ginny | Percy ]

Percy looked up from the armchair in which he was seated. “Merlin--I wasn’t expecting you to be here. Should I get Mum?”

@batsbogey​

[lghtama7ch-blog]

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You know? When you get right down to it: Ginny Weasley is a good example of why its a bad idea to be friends with Harry Potter. Truthfully, a lot of what happened Ginny’s first year is a mystery to Seamus and he’s totally okay with that.

Seamus knew Ginny generally for most of his Hogwarts career up until the DA and, more specially, his 7th year. While Seamus did not always agree with Ginny’s choices, and in some ways doesn’t respect them, he does actually respect Ginny as a person. Just because they had different ways of coping with what was happening doesn’t mean either was wrong. Of course, Seamus still think’s he was more right about it all--but he doesn’t need to shout about it unless prodded

The exception is outside the classroom and every day bullshit of 7th year. Its not the ‘leadership’ Seamus admired (he’s not sure how much leadership there was that year) but the wand work skill in dueling/battle. There’s survival and there’s fighting--he admires the fighting.

He has not gone to see a single one of her games but he keeps up with them via the Daily Prophet ...and sometimes the tabloids.

[percyignatius--weasley]

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👫: four headcanons about our muse’s relationship

Neither of them remember this, but Molly does. Percywasn’t the first of the six boys to hold Ginny when she was a baby, but he wasthe first to take initiative. When Ginny wouldn’t stop crying, Percy was theone to take her out of her crib and try to rock her to sleep. This was probablyhow Percy started to cleave soclosely to duty, especially since he eventually was the one who made sure Ginnydidn’t smack her face into anything when she started walking and eventuallychasing her brothers around the Burrow.

Most of the children’s stories that Ginny knowsis because of Percy reading them to her at night when they were kids. Therewere some that Ginny loved hearing over and over again, but Percy never mindedreading them to her. Sometimes he would do voices. Most of the time she alreadyhad some of the dialogue memorized and would interrupt him reading because she knew how to say it right.

When Ginny made the team, Percy’s congratulationsgift was a pair of professional Quidditch gloves. Blisters are a concern whenyou’re flying that often! And Ginny may have invited Percy to her first match,but she probably didn’t count on him buying season tickets for the Harpies. Mostof the time he preferred to watch by himself though, so he didn’t tell anyone hehad done that. But Ginny knows; Percy stuck out like a sore thumb in the crowds.

Ginny was the best listener out of all of hissiblings, though he often mistook this patience for actual interest. Maybe that’swhy Percy had noticed something was off with her that year she had her diary,though he didn’t think possession waswhy she was dozing off and naturally felt guilty. He did, however, tutor Ginnyin her second year – although she was a naturally bright witch, there was stilla significant amount of magic to get caught up on after having little to norecollection of a half a year’s worth of material.

[procidensdraco-archived-blog]

The Malfoy Hospitality | Draco & Ginny

Lessons were resuming as usual. Draco had risen an eyebrow when Professor Snape had made that little announcement--how could they carry on as if Pansy hadn’t seen Harry Potter skulking the corridors?--but now Draco could see it made sense. The best way to keep an eye on the students was to keep teaching them as if the car crashing into the greenhouse was just a prank, nothing more, nothing less. Potter wasn’t supposed to be here. The information couldn’t get out, or everyone still loyal to him would be making even more trouble for the Carrows, and Draco knew all too well what would happen to them then. 

It was lunchtime and there was only one route from this particular classroom to the Great Hall. Draco was waiting for Ginny there, leaning against the wall like he had not a care in the world. The door swung open, letting out a wave of sound, footsteps on stone and chatter which turned to whispers the second eyes found him. Spotting her trademark ginger hair and freckles, Draco kicked off the wall and stepped in her path. “Not you, Weasley,” he said, more quietly than he usually would. The less attention he drew the better. “We need to talk.”

He was still a prefect, a role which had been oh so graciously redefined by the Carrows; his authority stretched further than ever before, even with the stain on the Malfoy name. That didn’t mean Draco expected Ginny to listen. He had played Quidditch against the Gryffindor Chaser. He wasn’t fool enough to believe she’d follow him without some resistance. If he wanted to speak to Ginny Weasley without causing a scene, he would have to sweeten the deal.

“I received a message from home which you might find interesting,” he said. “And since I know you don’t have a meeting with Lovegood to rush off to… Where is Loony anyway? Oh yes…” He pulled his lips into a smirk, but he could feel that it didn’t touch his eyes. There was something strained about everything he did, like his body was no longer his to command. One by one, the Dark Lord was turning them all into puppets.

“Before you get all pissy with me, remember who I am.” Draco was not party to every conversation, a fact which stung after all the extra spellwork he’d been practising over the summer, but he knew a lot more about this particular matter than Ginny Weasley. “Where is Loony. It’s almost a riddle. Wouldn’t you like to know?” An offer, slightly muddled, but all Draco could give under the scrutiny of the Carrows and his fellow Slytherins. 

[afirefinnigan]

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Seamus’ first understanding of Ginny was this: she was Ron’s sister (and a sister to half the older boys), decidedly prettier than Ron (sorry, mate, but true), and she was quiet. She had a book. And Seamus never fully learned what that book meant only that Ginny changed the second year and kept changing third, and fourth, and fifth, and so on. The changes, or what he saw of them, seemed good. It had felt strange for a Weasley, excluding Percy, to be so quiet. First impressions are not always accurate--but, really, Ginny is still prettier then Ron so there is that. (Seamus would like not to think of Percy, but Fred and George are maybe slightly closer to ‘well, alright’)

Seamus talked the piss when Ginny dated Dean. Oh, there’s no doubting it here: he was a bit of a jerk. No excusing it either but a combination of his best friend having another focus (who wouldn’t be a little jealous, he told himself), and only just starting and shying way from well maybe not that straight. Wasn’t a good look for Seamus, though he did laugh at Dean trying to help Ginny of all people through the portrait hole. He was pretty relieved when they broke up but probably would hate articulating why even now.

Current year: Seamus fucking adores Ginny. Straight up. This doesn’t mean he’s always nice about it--Seamus will shit talk and tease even those he cares about--but in some ways Seamus is a bit lonely. His best friend isn’t there and it leaves him feeling a bit at loose ends. Enter Ginny whose tactics and decisions Seamus can really get behind. Being mouthy in class? Hell, yes. Stirring things up at night? Oh, Seamus is there. Its a great series of distractions, of course--even when its just plopping down next to someone and teasing or ragging them until they either smile or boil over. Seamus wouldn’t begin to think he’s become one of Ginny’s closest friends, but he does very much like her style and likes being around her because of that.

Whose a leader? Its ....not Seamus. Ever. Bad idea. One possibility is they attempted this sometime during the beginning of the year when Seamus attempting to lead a small nighttime event... and it just went pear shaped. Too loud, too ill planned, maybe even just a bad night for it--it hardly matters. The only thing Seamus would be interested in doing that involves managing other people is providing personal opinions on what areas are best to light on fire. So this is another area Seamus has grown to admire Ginny for--the ability that she and Neville have shown for stepping up to these roles. Its because of the past several months that Seamus would sooner follow Ginny then Harry and he would get snitty about that too.

(Man Seamus is snitty about near everything isn’t he?)

[padmaunshadowed]

Absent Oddity || Padma & Ginny

Padma hesitated, drumming her fingers nervously on the back of the book she held pressed to her chest like a shield or a security blanket. She scanned the bustling Great Hall -- somehow the lack of Muggle-born students made the room feel the room so much emptier than the absence of such a comparatively few number of bodies should logically produce -- as her stomach turned over and over again, leaving a sour and sick feeling that clawed up the back of her throat.

She didn’t know why she was wasting her time; Padma already knew she wasn’t going to find who she was looking for here, not when there hadn’t been any sign of her in Ravenclaw Tower last night...

But when a flash of fiery red hair moved past her to the Gryffindor table, Padma couldn’t help following. She hesitated several times, almost turning back to the comfort and safety of her fellow Ravenclaws -- but something dragged her feet onward. Guilt? Curiosity? It was impossible to say but suddenly there she was, at the edge of the Gryffindor table, but several feet down from where her sister sat bent in hushed conversation with Lavender Brown. (Everyone seemed to speak in hushed conversations this year. Padma had never thought she would miss the annoyingly raucous cacophony that usually characterized breakfast in the Great Hall, but this sepulchral quiet weighted on her worse than the noise ever had...)

She stepped toward the bright red mane, cleared her throat and said, “Excuse me -- Ginny? I was just -- I was just wondering, have you...have you heard anything from Luna? Luna Lovegood, I mean?” Padma bit her lip, feeling her cheeks go hot with embarrassment; what other Luna could she mean? Even if there were another girl by that name here at Hogwarts -- which she doubted -- only Luna Lovegood held any shared connection between her and Ginevra Weasley. She would be lucky if Ginny didn’t laugh in her face, after that. “I was just wondering if she’s...all right, you know?”

A stupid question. If Luna was all right, she’d be here...but Padma had to ask.

[sacrificeborn-a]

@batsbogey

          Papers are scattered around the coffee table in a sort of organized disarray. The people in various pictures glaring at the ceiling with dark looks on their faces, clearly not happy to be there. The list is in the center — names of the escaped death eaters they’ve yet to found in Harry’s untidy handwriting. He’d copied it from work even before he’d become an official auror. Rodolphus Lestrange mockingly at the top. There’s notes in the margins, things that seemed important to one time. Anything to catch one — to be able to cross the name off with a sense of finality.

      But Harry’s eyes had grown heavy hours ago. He’d shifted on the couch in weariness, head resting against the pillow, glasses and jeans still on. This isn’t the first time it’s happened — falling asleep on the couch after an evening of obsessed research on the death eaters. They’d recently had a sighting of Dolohov, who’d made it out of the castle during Harry’s fight with Voldemort. Without a wand, which had been captured by Flitwick while they dueled. It’s fueled Harry’s desire — to the point that he’s spent several nights this week in this very position. He shifts slightly in his sleep, his glasses askew, letting out a quiet breath of slumber.

[chosencne-blog1]

          It’s dark when Harry wakes in Ron’s bedroom on the small camp bed where he sleeps. The place is eerily quiet — unusual for the Burrow even at night, but it’s not SURPRISING, given which day it is. Fred’s funeral had been earlier this morning. Harry had spent the day in a daze, hands stuffed in the pockets of his expensive black robes that were growing too short at the ankles, watching the Weasley’s huddle together to mourn the loss of one of their own. He felt like both an outsider and intimately involved at the same time — the knowledge that it was his war that Fred had been fighting when he died surrounding Harry like the presence of an old friend.

          It was a miracle that he’d fallen asleep, but he had caught some rest before shooting awake. He rarely has nightmares these days — another product of Voldemort’s TERRIBLE HOLD on him. But that doesn’t mean he rests easily.

          Grappling for his glasses on the bedside table now, he puts them on and the dark room comes into view as his eyes adjust to the small light of the moon. Ron isn’t snoring in his own bed, but his back is turned and Harry assumes that means he’s trying to feign sleep. All’s well in that — not like Harry really knows what to say to his best friend who just buried a brother anyway. While Harry himself has lost many people over the course of his lifetime, this past month has held more funerals than ever before. He doesn’t know whether someone (Remus, perhaps? ) had held him while his parents were buried. And Sirius never even had a funeral. Only Dumbledore — and now the fifty others who had died in the Battle of Hogwarts. Died fighting because Harry hadn’t given himself up until too many were lost to the world.

          Silently, he slips out of bed and down the creaking stairs towards the main floor, where the kitchen and living space are held. He’s had practice — not only in his month at living at the Burrow, but at school, too. Trying not to wake Ron, Seamus, Dean, or Neville. When he passes Mr. and Mrs. Weasley’s bedroom, he can hear sniffling through the door and the low, soothing sounds of Mr. Weasley’s voice. Harry can’t hear what he’s saying, but he knows it’s comforting words to a mother who is ONE CHILD LESS. His heart drops in his stomach and he feels the urge to be sick all over the ugly carpeted step he’s standing on. He manages to hold it back and quickly moves down the stairs.

          There are dishes still laying out around the table from the small gathering they’d had after the funeral — family, close friends, and what was left of the Order of the Phoenix only. It’s a true testament to Mrs. Weasley’s grief that she hadn’t cleaned up before bed. Having nothing else to do and desperately wanting something to occupy his mind and hands, Harry places his wand into the pocket of his pajama pants where it’s easily accessible and fills the sink with soapy water.

          He puts the dishes from the table into the water and begins to wash the Muggle way. IT’S SCALDING, but there’s something delicious about the way his hands come out of the water tinged pink. Silently, he works for several minutes, focusing on every cup and plate and nothing else — until a noise behind him stirs him from his stupor. Whipping his wand from his pocket with soap-riddled fingers, Harry turns and points it at the source of the noise. It takes him a moment to register who is standing at the doorway of the kitchen before lowering his wand and wiping his hands on his pants awkward to rid them of water and soap.

        ❛ Oh — hey, Ginny. ❜  Why is he still here with all these Weasleys who surely LOOK DOWN ON HIM for getting Fred killed? ❛ Did I wake you?  ❜