hello! just wanted to pop by and say that your harry/ginny stories have been (happily) consuming my life lately and i thank you immensely for that. i recently finished a reread of the hp series and wanted to look for some good fanfics since i had never read them from this fandom before. yours are truly some of the best i have found!!! i hope that one day you will write some more beautiful hinny and cannot wait to read it if/when you do <3
you’ve probably been asked this question a million times before, but i wanted to see if you had any hinny fic recs to share? i would definitely love to check them out if you do!!
Thank you so much! I recommend checking out @narukoibito 's recommendations! They are doing a nice job with recommendations.
“Slytherin are loyal, Ginny knows. It’s just that the lines they draw, the units of insiders they create are not defined by common boundaries, by anyone else’s rules. They do not pledge loyalty based on notions of people they should care about. It is far more complicated and infinitely more nuanced than that. It can’t be understood with just a glance.”
-The Changeling by Annerb on Ao3
I swear to the gods, read the Changeling. Ginny gets sorted into slytherin, and it follows her growth and sharpening into a weapon of war. It not only expands on Ginny but on the entirety of what it means to be a Sytherin living with a title that means you’re instantly feared and pushed away, even, in Ginny’s case, by your own family. The writing is gorgeous, just *chefs kiss*, visceral; reading like a journal written by someone in disassociated fury. It’s like, these characters are statues that have been carved and beaten until they form something beautiful. That’s hella flowery but. Agh. This fic reminds you what the core of the Hogwarts community is meant to be. That and, well, The Changeling has the honorable title of Nearly Made Me Cry, which has happened rarely enough that I can count it on one hand.
♥︎ pairing: ginny weasley x fem!houseneutral!reader
♥︎ summary: ginny distances herself from you because she thinks you love someone else.
♥︎ requested: yes | no
♥︎ warnings: angst, heartbreak, self hate/comparison, total inconsistency since if you're in the trio’s year you wouldn’t have class with ginny + astoria isn’t in ginny’s year but shush its a fic
pumpkin pasties, chocolate frogs, and all your other favourite treats jumped around in ginny’s bag. the gryffindor girl had gone to help ron woo some mystery girl who he’d taken a liking to and stumbled upon his stash of candies. ginny had called it a fee for her services and decided she’d share her earnings with the girl she loved most, both as a friend and more ─ that girl was you and as far as ginny knew, you were completely oblivious to her feelings.
it was a wednesday afternoon so she could only assume you were having your weekly study session with the gryffindor golden girl herself, hermione granger.
the pep in her step made her red hair bounce on her shoulders, her excitement to see you growing with each one she took. ginny turned the corner, finally at your study spot and she paused. you looked emotional, to put it simply, and you clutched what appeared to be a crumpled piece of parchment that someone had changed their mind about tossing.
there was a nervous gloss to your eyes and ginny thought she should leave, letting you and hermione talk alone. but her curiosity and just the way she cared for you got the best of her.
taking a deep breath and not noticing ginny behind the pillar ─ where she wasn’t so much as hiding, but quietly observing ─ you started to read off of the parchment. “there’s no easy way to say this,” you read clearly, but your shy, quivering smile gave away how you felt about reading what was written. was it a letter? had you written it? “but i love you.”
ginny’s heart stopped. she swallowed thickly, uncertain of how to process the sinking feeling in her chest. you exhaled shakily and smiled, biting your lip and staring down at the words you'd written.
“i love your hair,” you laughed, running your hand over your own nervously. “i love your eyes when you’re happy and the sound of your voice. did you know your nose scrunches when you laugh? it’s adorable. i’ve never met someone who brights up my life like you do. i love how you always know what to say and i love that i can be myself with you. i love your heart, you’re everything i adore. i love when i can look into your eyes because mine fill with the love i’ve only ever felt for you. the only thing more beautiful to me is you. it’s that same look that i’ve never been able to tell if you’ve given me back. my thoughts go cloudy when i’m with you. i love you so much. you’re... you. how could i not have fallen in love with you?"
as she looked at hermione’s angel-like face, ginny felt hot drops of some form of sadness more intense than she even knew possible well up in her eyes. hermione’s lips were parted in awe and she was smiling.
hermione granger, brightest, most beautiful witch of her age. beside you, in ginny’s opinion, but you were right. how could you not have fallen in love with hermione?
you folded up the letter and sighed, no longer reading but still going. “even if you don't love me, it was worth every word. i’ve never regretted anything when it comes to loving you. yours, y/n l/n.”
hermione grinned at you, “that was beautiful, y/n. truly... gods, i didn’t know you had that in you.” ginny fled, not wanting to watch what came next or hear what hermione had to say about how she felt for you. she’d break like the porcelain her skin resembled if hermione said she loved you back... if hermione kissed you, like ginny had only dreamed of.
wiping away the tears that stained her cheeks, she hated herself. y/n loves hermione. she just wished she hadn’t listened. she shouldn’t have fallen for you in the first place or let herself have foolish hope. even more foolish to think she could ever win you over when you could have hermione. older, brighter, and beautiful. she was fool, and now ginny believed had paid the price for it.
but had she stayed only a second longer, she’d have heard hermione’s stunned words. “ginny’s going to love every word, y/n, i know it.” bubbling with nerves, you threw yourself to hug her and squeezed tightly, just as ginny turned to steal one last glance at you. “thank you ‘mione, you’re the best.”
you were inaudible from the distance but there you were in hermione’s arms, giggling and chattering. despite the fact that you were joking about her own crush, ron, the sight only made ginny sick. ginny lost her appetite and made her way to her dorm, instead of the great hall where dinner would be starting in just a few minutes.
the heartbroken girl probably would have thrown up right then and there, had she seen you and hermione walk into the great hall. arm in arm, you were practically shaking with anticipation. of course, she’d incorrectly imagined that you’d be parading in with intertwined fingers and smeared lipstick but through a made up mind, it’d look like all the same.
“where’s gin?” you found a seat next to ron and harry, scanning the table for her red ponytail. through a mouthful of food, ron shrugged and answered, “must have gotten held up.” hermione rolled her eyes with disgust, silently scolding him for his ill manners.
you took the opportunity to tease the two. “never invite me to dinner at your home, save the fighting for your kids.” they both blushed heavily and stammered out how they’d never fancy the other, then immediately spewing out offense at the implication. ron huffed and harry spoke over them, rolling his eyes heavily.
“what about you, y/n? i thought you and ginny would be an item by now,” harry didn't really care either way, but it did seem ridiculous for the two of you to dance around dating for so long, especially since he somewhat saw her as a little sister. and truth be told, everyone was curious about you two.
even ron perked up and hermione smirked knowingly. “leave her alone, it’s none of your business,” she announced.
ron narrowed his eyes and started, “hermione, do you know something?” hurrying to stop them from bickering again, you cleared your throat. “i wrote ginny a letter, laying out exactly how i feel for her. now if you’ll excuse me, i’m going to go find her because i don’t think she’s coming.”
you hopped out of your seat, taking some food for her, and left poor harry alone with the arguing lovebirds to go confess your feelings.
you hummed to yourself, going to knock on ginny’s dorm door. her dorm mate opened the door and looked you up and down, glaring angrily. “what do you want?” she crossed her arms and scoffed. taken aback, you blinked and searched the room for ginny, who was curled up in her bed crying.
“excuse me? get out of my way, i need to see ginny. is she alright?” the girl eyed you, as if scanning you for a lie, and she supposed you were sincere in your concern. “she’ll be fine, just give her some space.”
without another word, the gryffindor slammed the door in front of you and you were left staring at the shut dorm, filled with confusion and a harrowing worry. your hand fell and defeated, you shoved your love letter into your pocket.
you didn’t see ginny the next day in class. or the day after that. she wasn’t talking to any of her brothers, you, or harry and had even turned the other way when you waved her down. it was like she was avoiding you and after a week of it, you came to the conclusion that she must be. ginny’s schedule resided in your mind so you set to confront her after potions. a girl with a mission was a force that should never be reckoned with ─ ginny taught you that.
“it shouldn't be too hard if we get some studying in,” ginny was discussing an upcoming exam with astoria greengrass, a slytherin girl in her year. you rather awkwardly stopped in front of the two and watched them part ways, ginny sending you a scarily pissed off glare. the tension could be cut with a knife and you and ginny blurted at the same time.
“you’re avoiding me!”
“i heard you and hermione!”
anger slipping, ginny avoided your eyes. “well that’s why i’ve been avoiding you. i’m sorry, i know i should be happy for you,” she started to ramble and you stared at her, baffled. happy for you and hermione? “i thought i didn’t care, that i could just push my feelings for you aside. it’s just that when you read that letter to hermione, there was so much... love in your voice. it hurt. i want to be the one you love.”
dumbfounded, you realised that she’d thought the letter was for hermione. “oh fuck, ginny no,” you stumbled, making her step back, assuming you were rejecting her. this wasn’t how you wanted to tell her that you loved her, it was supposed to go better than this. “wait! what i mean is─”
“you made it pretty damn clear what you mean, y/n,” ginny sniffled. “i think it's best if i just─” you cut her off with a kiss. you grabbed her face, kissing her like you’d never tasted something so sweet and you just couldn't get enough. she pulled back, breath heavy on your lips. “but... but hermione,” she whispered and you laughed, eyes fluttering shut and head shaking.
“i was reading it to her to practice on you. it was always for you ginny, it’s always been you.” the smile that you missed all week finally enraptured the lips you’d be kissing as much as you possibly can now that you knew you could. “and besides, she fancies your brother.” ginny thought for a moment and then sighed in embarrassment. but she said nothing as she knew you’d only reassure her and she knew this was how things ought to be.
ginny wrapped her arms around you and melted into your embrace, burying herself in your warmth and tugging you closer ─ though with no distance between you two, the gesture wasn’t very efficient. “so you love me?” she just wanted to hear you say it.
warning(s): heavy sexual themes/sex mention/non-graphic smut, angst, alcohol, cursing
requested: not
a/n: yet another depressing ass songfic! am i even surprised? not even a little bit. also, drinny >>> ALSO, v importantly, i’m gonna dedicate this to the lovely drawlfoy bc it was her 18th birthday on the 17th :) happy late birthday!!!!!!!!!! (also evi watch out, i’m working on a (v :/) late bday present my writer’s block has only just gone down recently :3)
taglist: @acciodracoo @drawlfoy @war-sword
also available on ffn, ao3 and fia
It was warm and it was satisfying. But then it was over and it wasn’t anymore.
It was incredibly pathetic.
Draco lifted the sheets and brought his hand nearer to his face, turning it over. The skin of his palm was red where he’d held himself tight and was speckled with the evidence of the climax he’d brought himself to. The haze, the heat, he’d found himself in had practically vanished into thin air. He stared at it with disgust, then reached for his wand, placed precariously at the edge of his nightstand.
He could almost imagine what she’d do if she was here. Poke his nose and giggle. Maybe even peck him on the cheek while she chided him for being silly. Ginny was always overly cheery after it was over, sometimes even uncharacteristically so.
But Draco wasn’t. Especially not now.
Memories of her pulsed through his mind. The sore stiffness on his front threatened to stir once more and Draco quickly flicked his wand towards his nethers and cast a cleaning charm under his breath. The sheets would be fine now. Not a soul would know what had transpired there that morning. But he… he felt tears dripping down his cheeks before he realised that the swirling in his stomach wasn’t just the aftermath of his orgasm. It was that awful, awful mixture of regret and anxiety. He was supposed to get used to it, he knew. But it felt just as painful as it had the moment it had all ended.
There were a million ways to get over exes and he’d attempted and succeeded with them before. It’s just that this time around, he wasn’t trying. Maybe, he just didn’t want to. His heart was shattered, and instead of looking to mend it and try over again, for some reason he felt it was simpler to just mull over what had been. Or long for it, rather.
A few minutes had elapsed, and while his sniffing had ended, his eyelids were beginning to grow heavy. His wet cheeks felt oddly bloated and he knew his fantasy had long since ended. He’d attempted to imagine morning sex, pretending the hand he didn’t use often was hers. Why? Who knew. Who knew. He wondered when even something as primal as stroking himself would return to normalcy and he wouldn’t have to imagine it had anything to do with what used to be.
This train of thought, however, was much too complex for the moment. He blinked slowly, letting the lids of his eyes droop and shield his pupils from the soft sunshine. He felt himself falling back into the void of sleep, succumbing to some odd sense of calm. The dark dreamlessness of his slumber was more comforting than anything else.
But it wasn’t long before he felt the harsh rays of the early afternoon sun beating down on him, the glare from the french windows on the side of his room enveloping him in the heat. It was time to get up. But his feet suddenly felt too large and too heavy for the rest of his body. He could barely even fit two and two together before he walked over to the desk in the front of his room and picked up the receiver of the intercom and dialled for room service.
Woke up alone in this hotel room
Played with myself, where were you?
Fell back to sleep, I got drunk by noon
I've never felt less cool
The harsh scent of whiskey could be smelt off his person. He knew it. Earthy, ethanolic, evocative. He’d ordered the most expensive bottle of whiskey they had and now he knew it’d been worth it. It tasted richer than that usual phenolic taste he’d become used to. You could even call it slightly leathery, with those soft notes of chocolate and smoke that Gin had taught him to look out for. Fucking hell.
He’d poured himself just half a glass at first, mostly in an attempt to lie to himself. He wanted to limit his consumption of alcohol in the daytime, but it had been no good. The ice in his drink was still mostly solid after he’d finished his first glass, and it still was as he poured himself another.
He’d relished the fervid feeling down his throat, the burning sensation that he hoped was numbing the pain in his chest. He stared at the half-empty bottle with nothing but remorse. He was laying back on the bed now, thoughts flitting through his mind while brain felt oddly fleshy in his skull. Every part of his body felt so heavy now he could barely lift a muscle. He’d always been deplorably lightweight. And now that he’d drunk so much all within thirty minutes, well, he was doing miserably. He could already feel his impending hangover, even the blood pumping through the veins on his head was cacophonic.
Now, now, he wished Ginny was here to take care of him. He knew this thread of thought was so very pitiful, but it was sensible. She was scarily good at handling her liquor, she always had been. Somehow. He supposed the only girl among a few brothers could certainly turn out just as, if not more, tough than the rest of them. It was something he admired, he’d told her. She could protect him when they’d be drinking. (She was a little more protective over him than he was towards her anyway.)
His plan to distance himself from everyone and everything in an effort to get over his ex-girlfriend - ex-fiancée-to-be, ex-future-wife, whatever you wanted to call her - now seemed doltish, futile, even. Every single thing he did only reminded him of her. His original intent for his stay at this hotel had long since been lost. He’d stopped trying long since. There was no point.
The day everything had gone to dust, it didn’t feel like it would be permanent. They’d had plenty of rifts between the two of them, which was to be expected really, what with them being as competitive and quarrelsome as they were and Ginny being a Quidditch player ( god, what a dream that was), they had their fair share of conflicts. But that time, he didn’t know that that evening, when she stepped out of his apartment, that they’d never speak again.
We haven't spoke since you went away
Comfortable silence is so overrated
Why won't you ever say what you want to say?
Even my phone misses your call, by the way
It had been a jealousy thing, he’d thought. Why she’d got so annoyed at him for spending time with Daphne. He didn’t say a word when she went out with her friends, regardless of their gender. Sure, she was very pretty, he’d admit that. But it wasn’t fair that she got annoyed at him for it. There’d only been two times when he’d had to blow off plans with her to spend time with Daph. He hadn’t meant anything by it. He hadn’t meant to forget that they were going to have dinner with her parents.
He’d told her so many times. But she hadn’t accepted his excuse. Not at all.
“You’re a grown man, Draco. You were supposed to remember this. It was-”
“Come on, Gin, I told you! I didn’t mean to forget.”
“ Of course you didn’t! You didn’t mean to make my parents disapprove of you even more. You didn’t mean to make Ron hate you!”
“Gin, come on, I-”
“No, don’t you ‘Gin’ me. You fucked up. Seriously. And I cannot believe you blew me off to spend time with her.”
“Her? What do you mean ‘her’? You can’t even say her name, do you despise her that much? I don’t say anything when you’re out with-with Luna or... Potter.”
“You know there’s nothing going on between me and any of them. And there never will be. You know that. And you’ve met Luna enough times.. you don’t have to keep being snooty about her.”
“What? How was I being snooty?”
“You-you made that face. The one you make when you’re disgusted. It’s awful, you know? She’s one of my dearest friends and-”
“Oh, and Daphne’s one of mine but I’m cheating with her, right?”
“I’ve told you, I trust you, it’s just that she’s so goddamn touchy and all of that. And she makes you-”
“God, I shouldn’t even bother trying to make you like her, should I? You’re so fucking clingy.”
“Draco, goddammit, I-”
Her freckled cheeks had gone from slightly flushed to a deep crimson through the length of their conversation. With how mad she was at him, he knew she was fury in person. But now, there was something in those brown eyes of her that made him weak at the knees. Not in desperation, but more so in regret. The tears beginning to well up in the corners of her eyes made him feel like ripping his hair out in tufts. He wanted to make it all okay again. He wanted to lean down and kiss her and hug her and do anything and everything he could to make her stop looking so sad.
“I can’t do this anymore, Draco.”
“G-ginny, I didn’t mean any of it. I was mad and-”
“It doesn’t matter. Y-you said it. And if you said it, you must have felt it, at least a little bit.”
“No, but… I.. I’ll make it up to you. I’ll do anything, I swear.”
She kept looking up at him so solemnly, so softly, with little tears streaking down her face while her dainty lips began to quiver.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Ginny, I.. I’ll make it up to your parents. I’ll make them all dinner all by myself. I’ll-I’ll help.. your brothers. I’ll pay for anything. I swear. I’ve fucked up, I know. Please-”
“Draco. Stop.”
She took a deep breath and looked to the side as she used the sleeve of that cute blue jumper to wipe away the mess on her face. He could hardly muster up the courage to look at her face, knowing it was him that had made her feel all that. It was enough to make his stomach drop low into his abdomen and the little food he’d had out with Daphne threaten to exit through his mouth.
Maybe one day you'll call me and tell me that you're sorry, too
Maybe one day you'll call me and tell me that you're sorry, too
Maybe one day you'll call me and tell me that you're sorry, too
He moved out of his parents’ estate and into muggle London for her, but he wasn’t even sure if she knew that. His father had never liked it at all. Him and the Weasley girl, he remembered the sour way it had dripped out of his mouth. But for once, he couldn’t take it anymore. The bloody Gryffindor he’d fallen in love with had made him feel brave enough to stand up to his father, somehow. His parents seemed okay with it. His mother did ask him to get himself his own place, however. He couldn’t even imagine what would have gone down had he fallen in love with a muggle-born, or worse, a muggle.
But here he was, making love to one, staying in a hotel in a part of London he’d never frequented before. And why? Because he thought it as revenge. It was a girl who looked similar enough to her when he squinted. Long, red hair and shapely legs. Not as freckled though, and not nearly as gorgeous. He tried not to look at her face much, because he knew the only way he could even get it up any more was by imagining it was Ginny with him.
And it wasn’t even like he loved one night stands or something. He hadn’t even stepped out of his room much the whole time he’d stayed here. And yet, seeing him had sparked this rage, this uncontrollable hunger within him, that he just had to do something about it.
Seeing that son of a bitch out that morning hadn’t stirred much in him at first. He’d thought now they finally had one thing in common. They were both Ginevra Molly Weasley’s exes. But of course, that was no longer true.
Ginevra Molly Weasley was seeing the other again. Or at least sleeping with him.
And how did he know this? The usual browned skin on his neck was adorned with hickeys and ceremonial bitemarks, much in Ginny’s fashion. His face was dazed and even his short, dark hair looked the slightest bit mussed. But oh, oh no. The shirt he had on.. was one of Draco’s own. Or at least it used to belong to him.
That once elegant navy button-up seemed hideous to him in that instant. Even thinking about Ginny having given it to him made his blood boil and swelter. And.. and imagining the context...
It made him want to get on his knees and wail in front of Ginny like a child. To beg for her back. Oh, how much he hated Dean bloody Thomas.
And that was how he justified his going out on the town and getting drunk that night. How he justified charming and shamelessly flirting with a girl he wouldn’t’ve even have treated with an ounce of respect even ten years earlier. It wasn’t his fault he could be so seductive when he tried to be. And he knew she was nothing but a piece of meat to her. A piece of meat that looked just enough like his lovely. Just enough for him to pretend that he loved her that night.
He thought it would help a little bit, skin slapping against skin. He thought it would help ease that pain he felt deep inside of him. That perhaps holding someone the way he used to hold her would help him. But he knew it was no good. Because even while he tried his best to get her out of his head, she was there again.
She was in between his fingers when they walked in a park. She was lying across his lap when he gave her the punishment she’d begged him for. She was in between his sheets while he fixed them breakfast. She was everywhere he looked, and yet she wasn’t.
She was in the teardrops that dripped down his face as he realised the girl he’d snuggled up to all night wasn’t even her. And she was still there, heavy in his heart as he quietly made his way out of the girl’s house. God, he didn’t even remember her name, did he?
But Ginny, Ginny, Ginny’s name was all over him. Blazing red burned into his skin forever and ever still. No matter how hopeless he knew it was. No matter how much he knew there was nothing to come, no positive emotions from her to come into fruition ever, but the way she’d looked at him, so piercingly, so angry yet so calm, when he stepped out of her apartment that night, that was all he could see.
I'm doing a drabble challenge where I'm going to write one femslash drabble every day for 130 days. Check it out on AO3: here!
~~
The venue pulsated with electric sweat, grinding bodies, and flashing lights, yet all Hermione had eyes for was the woman on stage. She was bewitched by long fingers moving quick as lightning over guitar strings, a voice singing dark and raw.
Ginny met Hermione’s gaze in the crowd and smirked. She was magnetic; muscles defined in a tight tank top, high ponytail whipping behind her, multiple piercings and ripped black jeans.
All Hermione could think about was going back to their hotel room, high on the performance, ears buzzing, and not even being able to make it to the bed.
