To anyone who followed me for hunger games content - sorry ur in the wrong place.
I only have one more thing to say and that's read where body meets soul by ellizablue
Not only is it the best odesta i have ever read, it is the best fanfic i have ever read and i think its better the hunger games books. I'e reread this fanfic more times than the book and there's a version of it from finnick pov (where body meets soul is annie's pov) that i havent read yet because i am not ready for that level of hurt
Like truly this fic is my roman empire and has been for like a decade
And if anyone else has read and wants to cry about it with me plz do
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
basically this is the tip of the iceberg that is a whole sprawling thesis in by brain of why katniss and gale should pay for their crimes and that these two were done dirty by everyone involved on a level that is quite frankly unprecedented.
I need it to be known that I have never cried over a single piece of media in my life, until now. I don't cry at movies, I don't cry at books, I've never even cried at a funeral - but right now, at ten past midnight I have just spent the late 20 minutes hysterically sobbing at chapter 13 of Ellizablue's odesta fanfic 'where body meets soul' and I am begging any hunger games fans to read it, it is incredible.
"There's something to be said for why the spot inside of me that used to house my optimism is now empty.
I guess that's growing up, along with accepting that you really know nothing at all and you probably never will, and that no matter how hard you try, you can't protect the ones you love from pain."
Wanted to take a moment to talk about my ALL TIME favorite Hinny fic (I'm doing a re-read and I couldn't not talk about it)- it's from several years back now so I understand why it's not talked about more but it deserves so much recognition! The characterization of Harry, Ginny, and really every character is written out in such a believable way I have a hard time separating this fic from canon. (Plus I think it even manages to make the cursed child relevant and bearable as canon). It has companion pieces (a prequel to this and a follow-up fic that's just as good but unfinished) as well but it holds up well on its own.
10/10 would recommend if anyone is looking for a good Married/Parents Hinny fic with a really good plot!
Here's a bit from Chapter 3 -one of my favorites and a scene I literally constantly think about:
_______________________
Charlie and Ginny were not alone. Harry stopped short when he spotted Bill and Arthur. He drew a nervous hand through his sopping wet hair. He’d had a nightmare like this once. It hadn’t ended well.
“Er, hi,” he greeted. He rubbed the back of his warm neck. “I was…I was just…”
He glanced quickly towards Ginny. With her eyes trained casually forward, she gave a tiny, nearly indiscernible shake of her head.
“…Hi,” Harry repeated, giving up on his excuses at Ginny’s advice. He came to sit beside her. “What’s…happening?”
He wished Ginny had taken the time to fully dress. He was distracted by the bit of thigh peeking out from beneath her dressing gown, only visible to him from his place at her side. He flushed, cleared his throat, and quickly looked up at the ceiling, as if he’d been peering thoughtfully at the floor instead of ogling Ginny’s skin.
“Bill and Dad remembered something. We think Lily has the dragon,” Charlie repeated.
“Oh, yeah,” Harry said, looking between the three Weasley men. “We do, too. We’re fairly certain, actually. We found a bucket of brandy and chicken blood in the shed earlier.”
Ginny kicked his calf. It hurt, but on the bright side, it helped refocus his thoughts.
“And you…what? Were waiting until she got bored with it to check?” Bill asked, baffled. He was peering at Harry like he’d never seen him before. “You do remember how dangerous dragons are, right?”
“Of course he remembers,” Ginny defended, her voice cooler than it had been previously. “We didn’t have any solid evidence until the brandy. We were going to search her room and school trunk as soon as she woke.”
Harry—sensing that Ginny would probably say something she regretted if her brother kept looking at her with that skeptical look—hurriedly interrupted.
“We didn’t want to accuse her without making sure.”
“What I don’t understand,” Arthur commented, speaking up for the first time. He was peering thoughtfully at the wall above Harry and Ginny’s head, “is why she would steal from Charlie in the first place. Stealing a powerful, beautiful creature—that’s certainly not out of character for Lily…I know I for one remember the hippogriff incident in 2013… but stealing from Charlie is. I didn’t want to believe it. I’m still not sure if I do.”
“There must be more to it,” Bill decided. He glanced towards Charlie and then did a double-take. Charlie looked gutted. “Charlie, don’t take it personally. You know she adores you.”
“Yeah,” Harry hurriedly said, horrified that Charlie would actually cry this time. “Her fourth word was her own variation of your name.”
“No, it’s not that—it’s just—I think I know why she did it,” he admitted. “She was outside near my tent one night, and she said she had just arrived to tell me dinner was ready, but I think she must’ve overheard a conversation I was having and misunderstood.”
The protective father in Harry longed to hear that it wasn’t his daughter’s fault. He wanted to defend every one of her actions until he was blue in the face, because she was his child, and despite her poor choices, he thought she and all his other kids were the most wonderful little people in the entire world. But he had to remind himself to be logical and honest about his children’s faults.
“Well, whatever she overheard, it certainly didn’t warrant stealing a baby dragon,” he said.
“Nobody’s saying that,” Ginny told him. “Charlie, what do you think she heard?”
“I didn’t think anything of it at the time, because I didn’t have any reason to believe she knew I had dragons in the tent nor that my conversation would hold any significance to her, but she must’ve known enough to gather context clues from what she overheard. And then she must’ve jumped to the wrong conclusions.”
“What sort of conclusions?” Ginny pressed, growing agitated, and Harry was right there with her. Their pent up frustration probably wasn’t helping.
“I think she may’ve gotten the impression that the dragon would die. Why she thought a thirteen-year-old girl was the proper solution to the problem, I’ll never know, but what was said could sound quite different out of context. You know, the dragon is a pitiful case. The chances of rehabilitation into a dragon sanctuary are slim. He’s got a horrible combination of issues: he’s utterly blind, he lets the other dragons bully him to the point that he can’t be near any at all for fear that he’ll be fatally attacked, he’ll probably never be able to breathe fire, and to make matters even more complicated, he’s terrified of human interaction. The night before we left Shell Island…I was talking with a colleague from Romania. One of the enchanted mirrors, you know, so what he was saying was audible, too. And we were discussing that fear…that this dragon would ultimately either end up secluded in its own section of the sanctuary with little interaction from anybody but me—he actually trusts me—or he’d be “released”. And I said something like...—well, to understand what I said, you need to understand what we mean by “release”. When we release one of the handicapped dragons, it’s because it’s so beyond help that keeping it is actually crueler. Some, despite their disabilities, are so stressed out by human touch and interaction that it’s kinder to let them fend on their own in the protected forest set up for them. And some…not many…are so beyond help, are suffering so much, are injured so gravely or so dangerous to others, that they’re let go. Humanely, and it’s only ever happened one time in all the years I’ve worked there, but I think about it every day.” He stopped speaking for a few long moments, his eyes staring unseeingly at the table. “Anyway. I was telling him—my colleague—that this dragon wouldn’t be able to survive in the wild and wouldn’t be able to survive in any of our other sanctuaries, due to its horribly docile personality, and that I feared it would seriously deteriorate in seclusion. And I see how it could’ve sounded to Lily. What I meant was that we had to find another solution that hadn’t been named. But she must’ve thought…she must’ve thought I meant there was only one solution left.”
Bill nodded. “Putting it down.”
“Right. Which—like I said. Only ever happened one time. And it was…the worst thing— well.”
He stopped, and even though he hadn’t admitted a thing, Harry knew he was thinking of Fred. Everybody at the table avoided each other’s eyes.
“One of the worst things I’ve ever been through. But this isn’t a case that would require that. I was going to apply to foster it myself for a few months, hoping I could work on its fear of humans, because if it could learn to at least partially rely on humans for care and comfort, it might be happy with us long term after all.”
“Why didn’t she just confront you if she overheard this?” Arthur asked. Harry sensed that he was fighting the same paternal urge that Harry was. He seemed to want to deny Lily’s involvement just as much as Harry did. “Lily’s never been shy about conflict.”
“True,” Harry agreed, nodding along. “Why didn’t she just ask you about it?”
“Because she’s a thirteen-year-old girl, Dad, Harry,” Ginny piped up. She was looking at them like it was painfully obvious. He guessed to somebody who’d once been a thirteen-year-old girl, it was. “Teenage girls are the most underestimated people there are. She’s learned that adults won’t take her seriously about things like this. She probably felt the situation was too urgent and too serious to waste time arguing. Like Granny Neebit’s cat.”
Bill, Charlie, and Arthur furrowed their brows in a nearly-identical expression of confusion. Harry sighed.
“Ginny stole an old lady’s cat,” Harry explained.
“Ginny?” Arthur demanded, scandalized.
“I did not! This woman—I don’t really know her name, we call her Granny Neebit because she’s old and she’s got this tiny dog that will bite at your knees if you walk through her garden—anyway, she’s got like a million pets—”
“Like you and Harry?” Bill reminded Ginny.
Ginny’s cheeks pinked slightly. “That is different, Bill. She’s got so many that she can’t care for them. They’re all sick and starving. One of her cats decided to come live here. It’s not my fault if it likes it here better. It sleeps in our shed now.”
“And I’m sure you putting out fish and milk for it had nothing to do with its decision,” Harry shot back slyly.
Ginny crossed her arms. “I will not apologize for taking in a starving creature in need of help.”
“Wow, for a minute there you sounded just like Lily.” He looked back at the Weasley men. “Ginny thinks Lily’s my spitting image.”
They didn’t laugh in disbelief like he’d expected. He and Ginny had been arguing over who Lily took after most all day, and he’d thought she was delusional for thinking it could be anybody but her.
“Well, Harry,” Arthur pointed out, his tone gentle. “You do tend to…save people and animals a lot too.”
“Second Triwizard task,” Charlie added.
“But that’s—that’s entirely different than—” he looked between them. He gestured incredulously at his wife. “She adopted seven Pygmy Puffs today! Seven!”
“We could argue all night about whether or not certain aspects of Lily’s personality were a worriedly intense combination of both of yours, or we could figure out how to get Charlie’s dragon back,” Bill redirected.
“We’re not waking her up,” Ginny told them sternly. “Whatever we decide—it’ll have to wait until morning.”
“Of course,” Bill agreed.
Nobody made to stand. Harry exchanged a worried look with Ginny. Surely they didn’t plan on waiting in the kitchen all night?
“Which means,” Ginny said firmly, “you can come back around seven.”
Charlie looked reluctant to leave, but after only a few more minutes of further planning and conversation, all their guests were gone. Ginny turned to Harry. He immediately pulled her into his arms. He let out a relieved sigh, his hand reaching up to brush her hair back from her cheeks. It was nearly dry now.
“Thank Merlin. I didn’t think they were going to leave,” he admitted. She responded with a fierce kiss, backing up towards the counter, dragging him with her. Harry lifted her up, sat her on the edge, brought is mouth back to hers, his hand finding the gap of her dressing gown—
The sound of somebody arriving in the Floo made him pull back.
“Oh, what now?!” Ginny demanded.
Harry glanced behind as George tumbled from the fireplace, a soot-covered grin in place.
“Is it true?!” he demanded gleefully, looking between Harry and Ginny. “Ron says you punched Rita Skeeter in the face, Ginny!” He studied them. He paused. “Oh—I’ve interrupted something, haven’t I?”
Harry slowly pulled his hands out from underneath her dressing gown, his face burning. Ginny was glaring.
“Yeah, you very obviously have.”
“Sorry,” he said impatiently, but he didn’t look it. “So tell me everything.”
“No! No, I won’t! It’s nearly one in the morning, I’ve had every one of my family members storm my house now except for Ron, Mum, and Percy—”
“Er…” George said, his eye flickering back to the fireplace. Ginny continued.
“—I am done! I’m an adult, I’ve got my own house; why can’t I get any privacy anywhere? Between Rita and my brothers I swear I’ll never get an opportunity to—”
Another whoosh as flames came to life in the kitchen fireplace.
“This is brilliant,” Ron said, grinning. He stumbled out onto the ash-covered rug. “Ginny, Hermione’s just told me, I can’t believe—AH! Ugh!” He slapped his hand over his eyes. “Ginny! What the—”
“Don’t you dare start! I can do whatever I like and wear whatever I like! This is my house! My kitchen!” A pause. Ginny grabbed the front of Harry’s shirt. “My husband!”
“Ginny, if you need a moment with Harry, just tell us. I’m sure it won’t take very long,” George snickered.
“Oi!” Harry demanded, spinning around to glare at George. Ron’s face was purple and he looked torn between laughing at George’s joke and screaming in horror.
“Ron, George, I love you, but I’m going to need you both to sod off,” Ginny ordered. “You can come back at seven like—”
Whoosh. Percy stepped out onto the rug, a nightcap covering his greying hair and his hands on his hips.
“Ginny. I hope what I’ve heard isn’t true. I hope my sister wasn’t inside the Ministry physically fighting with Rita Skeeter! Do you have any idea what people are saying about you now? Do you have any idea the damage you’ve done to your professional reputation, and at the height of your career no less—”
Harry glanced back at Ginny, and when he did, he saw her face was very red. And not due to embarrassment. Her eye had developed a twitch.
“Er…okay, so, you should all leave,” Harry blurted.
Flames filled the fireplace once more. Ginny said a particularly dirty word. Molly Weasley’s head appeared in the fire.
“Ron, George, and Percy!” she said.
“Mum, they’re barging into my house!” Ginny tattled immediately, outraged. Molly’s eyebrows rose.
“I hoped my clock was lying when it showed you three at Ginny and Harry’s after midnight! I know we’re all excited that Rita Skeeter got punched in the face—”
Harry had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. George was cackling madly, delighted.
“—but as I’ve told you time and time again, it’s not okay to just barge into your sister’s house at odd hours—”
“Why?” Percy said, oblivious. He gestured towards Harry and Ginny. Ginny was still sitting on the counter, and even though Harry had previously readjusted her gaping dressing gown, he thought it was pretty clear what they’d been up to. “They’re still awake.”
Molly pursed her lips. George was wheezing from lack of air due to his laughter. Ron resembled the late Arnold the Pygmy Puff in color.
“Percy,” Molly began, hesitant. “You still shouldn’t do it.”
“Why? They were already down here. Why’s everybody so angry?”
“Perce,” George piped up. “I think Mum’s trying to tactfully explain to you that our dear little sister and the Boy Who Lived were—how shall I word this? Hmm…” he trailed off, leaving Harry full of embarrassed horror, with nothing to do but wait for George to do his comedic worst. “Cooking up some love? Polishing—”
“George!” Molly interrupted shrilly.
“Oh, fine, I’ll take my time forming my jokes and save them for dull moments—”
“Out!” Ginny demanded. “We have visiting hours now! And you’re outside of them!”
Percy left first (after promising Ginny that they’d have a ‘talk’ later about her behavior), George left sniggering a little afterwards, mumbling suggestive euphemisms underneath his breath every few snickers, and then there was one.
“Ron.”
He looked up from the refrigerator, homemade butterbeer in hand.
“Hmm? Oh—you want one?”
Harry was trying to find the gentlest words to offer his oldest and most cherished friend. Ginny, on the other hand, decided words weren’t need. Harry felt her hands grab onto his face, yanking him forcefully down to her, and before he could say a word, she was snogging him breathless.
“Ugh! Why do you have to do that—”
Harry pulled back.
“Mate, I think this is her way of saying you need to —” the rest of his sentence disappeared into Ginny’s mouth as she yanked him back down.
“Fine! Fine! I can’t believe that I have to follow the visiting hours, though! This is wrong, and—ugh! Okay, I’m leaving!”
Once he was gone, Ginny brought up a decent point.
“You know, if we did live at Hogwarts, we wouldn’t have to worry about this.”
"I always find guilt making a bed in my heart. It curls up there, because it's warm, because I let it live there even when its rent is way past due. And I let it stay because it has become part of the structure. It's become the way I hold onto my humanity, my compassion, the things I've sworn I'd never let them take away. I am just unsure whether or not they have yet."
