#Hinny is just
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Ginny: *stops kissing harry* What do you think you’re doing?
Harry: What do you mean?
Ginny: I mean, your hands!
Harry: . . . They’re on your waist!
Ginny: I know! What am I, a nun? Put them somewhere useful.
#Hinny is just#*chefs kiss*#ginny molly weasley#ginny potter#harry potter#incorrect harry potter quotes#incorrect quotes#hinny#harry x ginny#ginny weasley#harryginny
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Scorbmas day 4!! Joint Potter-Malfoy Christmas.
Lily L. Potter : “You cheated! I saw your card!”
James S. Potter: “I have no idea what you’re talking about”
Albus S. Potter: *sigh* “They’re always like this”
Scorpius H. Malfoy: “I think it’s kind of wholesome”
#albus potter#scorbus#harry potter and the cursed child#hpcc#valleyianart#scorbmas2023#scorpius malfoy#lily luna potter#james sirius potter#harry potter#draco malfoy#ginny weasley#hinny#drastoria#Draco is just happy Scorpius has someone else to celebrate Christmas with
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Hinny - 🪷
AU, where Jily never died, and Harry grew up with the Weasley’s. This was their reaction every time James and Lily told Harry it was time to go home. The first time it happened, James told Lily that their son was going to marry Ginny.
#james knew all along#lily just rolled her eyes until she saw the way harry was looking at ginny#jily shipped hinny from the beginning#yes they picked lily’s for each other#ginny’s pout I can’t!!#ginny x harry#harry x ginny#hinny#baby hinny#ginny weasley#harry potter#harry potter ai#ai generated
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Alright, I know some people think that Harry will be down bad/have a crush on Tom first or some thinks it'll be Tom; but I feel like it's neither? Hell, canonically, Harry is really emotionally stunted in that regard, and I just don't see him grovelling or reacting that way to anyone or not specifically to Tom? Especially not a Slytherin who is always busy with political climbing or things-that-don't-interest-Harry. I feel like they'll be so busy with their lives, that until and unless someone smack dabs them together (with their luck, let's be real something WILL smack dab them together) I do believe they'll be passing thoughts in each other's life.
Harry might end up thinking in the passing that Tom's really good looking because hell, I've done that; even when I'm not attracted to someone, I will always appreciate a face that I find pleasing. I don't think Harry will be that interested in Tom until and unless he does something that attracts him (ex: quidditch LMAO). And the same goes for Tom, for whom I have this headcanon; that it's not intelligence or say, defiance that would attract him but something more. More visceral, more ground shaking (something very small in others' eyes perhaps but not to Tom). Something that will make him stop and think and learn. Because he doesn't seem like a person who would just get a crush out of nowhere,but that doesn't mean he won't be attracted to power tho lmao knowing him, he most deffo would. (Also all this doesn't mean i mind obsessed Tom fics, bc vee obsessing over harry is canon so who's to say he doesn't end up doing the same lmao).
And also the headcanon of Harry not realizing Tom is suspicious? Guys, this is Harry Potter; Mr I doubt everything and anything. Mr I fought of imperio because it felt too good to be true and my mind went sus alert. You think Harry wouldn't see Tom Riddle being so nice and so perfect and won't feel wait a second? Give my boy some credit, I beg. We've been shown his sixth sense being right, over and over again. And he has trust issues.
So, food for thought? Neither of them would do the grovelling and pining (they might in some specific circumstances but not in your average fics where they are doing their things without crossing paths), rather they are gonna do the falling once faith crash them together so hard; they end up getting a concussion (love).
Also adding this: I feel like they will fall for each other, no matter what and it will be not be because of faith or whatever but rather because of how much they can learn from each other and how perfectly they fit together. It will not be some random feelings, no. It will be push and pull, it'll be you get me, it will be I know you'll always have my back and it will be all the broken furnitures because they're stubborn. It will be challenging each other to be the better version of themselves.
Tom, who knows he is the best; can teach Harry some things about CONFIDENCE and he could teach Harry that he's enough. Harry, who knows a thing or two about humility, can drag him back when Tom tries to be Icarus and he can ground Tom when it's needed. Harry and Tom can both challenge each other and learn from each other. Harry will never suffocate Tom, and neither will he let Tom suffocate him and to me that's what make their dynamic special. I love them, okay — I hate it when people go; yeah he will be the one who'll just pine away or there's no way he (one of them) will fall for him etc. Let them be down bad for each other. thanks. It's not a competition.
#tomarrymort don't do crushes; they just fall face first#for me#tomarry#harrymort#will always be soulmates#they are so#they are so emotionally stunted y'all#thats why hinny felt out of place to me#LIKE WHERE IS THE BUILD UP#cho felt more real to me bc yes people get crushes#and cho did approach harry bc the boy is emotionally stunted asfffff#but hinny was so random#but anyways#point of my rant is#they both will need time to fall for eo#and once they do#you bet ur ass they'll both be obsessively devoted#and they will bc#they are soulmates#when they are down bad they are gonna be down horrendous. thanks
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Ginniversary Drabble 4
Prompt: O65 - you dont think that was just lemonade in your glass do you?
AO3 or read below:
The volume in the great hall had reached a clamorous level; the buzzing din and the blood pounding in Ginny's ears, mingled until she was sure the noise was going to drown her.
She tried to catch her breath; her Quidditch robes were suddenly too tight, making her efforts pointless. The sea of students surrounding her was nothing more than a blurred, faceless mass.
A touch on her hand, so light she shouldn't have been able to feel at all, brought her surroundings sharply into focus.
“You need to eat,” Harry said quietly.
Wordlessly, Ginny nodded. She kept her eyes on her plate in front of her, refusing to let them wander to the Ravenclaw table at the opposite side of Hufflepuff. The toast Harry had placed in front of her was swimming in butter. It felt dry as cardboard as it protested its journey down her throat.
She reached for her glass, swallowing a mouthful of sugary-sweet lemonade that did nothing to ease the dryness.
“There's no need to be nervous,” Harry said, using the same quiet tone that Hermione was directing at Ron across the table. Words that were only meant for one person. “If you lose, everyone will blame me… Everyone should blame me.”
His words sparked a fire within her that had been dangerously close to dwindling out a moment before. Ginny looked up sharply from her crumb-covered plate. “We're not going to lose!”
“Right,” Harry agreed at once, one corner of his mouth twitching, threatening a smile as his eyes met Ginny's. “So there's nothing to worry about, is there?”
She felt one side of her own mouth tick up. “Who said I was worried?”
Harry's smile bloomed fully, and the sight did more to ease her nerves than any encouraging words would ever be able to. His smiles had been frustratingly infrequent since the incident with Malfoy; every one that Ginny had managed to coax out of him felt like a victory all of its own. She suspected this one was for her benefit.
“The only thing you should be worried about is how you’re going to deal with your horde of admirers once you win the cup for Gryffindor.”
Ginny's laughter escaped her without her permission, as did the words she spoke next, “and will you be among them?”
Harry took a bite of his crumpet in a very obvious attempt to delay answering. His eyes flicked across the table to Ron, who was too busy listening to whatever soft words of encouragement Hermione was whispering to him to pay attention to what Ginny and Harry were doing.
He swallowed the crumpet. “I'll be the Head of the Ginny Weasley Fan Club.”
It was probably indecent to smile as widely as she currently was in the face of the biggest match of her life.
“Well,” she said, now breathless for entirely different reasons. “Given that my win is a foregone conclusion, I hope you're ready to take the responsibilities that come with your new position very seriously.”
Harry shrugged nonchalantly, but his gaze was steady, unwavering where it met Ginny's. “The season will be over; I'll have plenty of spare time to dedicate to it.”
“You don't have to convince me.” She laughed again, despite the way her stomach was twisting itself into knots. “The job is yours, if you want it.”
Their eyes remained fixed on one another. If the students around them had been faceless to her before, it was like there was no one there at all anymore; like they were the only two people left in the world.
“I'm just letting you know,” Harry said quietly, no longer smiling. “In case anyone else was interested in the position.”
Ginny's voice dropped to barely a whisper. “No one else is being considered.”
A beat of silence stretched on for what could have been eternity for all she knew. Harry didn't look away. She wasn't sure she would be capable of doing so even if she'd wanted to. Whatever this thing was that had been building between them was teetering dangerously close to a precipice and she was about to fall–
“Ginny!”
Dean's voice broke the spell that had fallen over them with jarring abruptness. Harry blinked, and then his attention turned to the half-eaten crumpet on his plate.
Resisting the urge to scream in frustration, Ginny turned in the direction her name had been called from.
“Are you ready to go down?” Dean asked.
Ginny didn't need to turn back to Harry to know he'd tensed beside her.
“You go ahead,” Ginny said smoothly. “I’ve still got some toast left.”
“You can eat on the way,” Harry said quickly. “You should probably take the others down before they get too deep in their own heads.”
She hesitated, wanting to protest the suggestion of leaving Harry up here, alone, while the rest of them went down to the pitch, yet knowing his logic was sound. Ginny's eye met Katie's further down the table, a short nod was enough to instruct her to gather the rest of the team and begin ushering them out of the hall.
Hermione's hand wrapped gently around Ron's forearm, guiding him from the table. Harry stood, and Ginny followed him, wishing she could recapture the moment they’d been so forcefully removed from.
“You've successfully boosted my confidence,” she said as they made their way towards the door. “Consider your Captain duties fulfilled.”
“That wasn't me,” Harry said with a smirk that didn't quite reach his eyes. “You don't think that was just lemonade in your glass, do you?”
“That little trick won't work twice,” Ginny assured him, unable to summon her own smile now their moment of separation was here.
It didn't matter, she promised herself, forcing a grin despite her mouth's reluctance, the match – and Harry's detention – would be over soon, and once she had the cup, everything would fall into place.
#hinny#harry x ginny#ginniversary bingo#guys i wrote this after too much wine#if its bad just lie to me#I'll discover the truth myself in the morning#drabble
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Snogging
#it’s naive to think that ginny wouldn’t go to hogwarts just to snog her husband#her kids don’t know about that tho…#btw it’s a 400 followers gift#thank yall#hp#hp fanart#hinny#hinny fanart#harry potter#ginny potter#professor potter
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my chronically annoyed ass comes across one of those "canon characters react to fanon ships" and one of them was tomarry and in the post, harry's like, "UM EW WTF.. blah blah" and i just got So pissed, like, just because the ship that you like is canon doesn't make you morally superior! obviously canon harry wouldn't want to get fucked by voldemort! but you do realise that talented people who make this pairing plausible with their amazing writing skills and headcanons exist, right?
and another post that was like, "i can't believe millenials get these amazing ships like jily, remadora, hinny, (continues stating het canon pairings) but gen z decided these were trash because they were fxm... and decided drarry, tomarry.. (continues stating gay pairings) etc. were better," and, like,
NO???? you just stated the most bland, boring pairings in the whole series?? it's not our fault your reading comprehension is so abysmal that you think jily, a white heterosexual couple that got married straight out of highschool is more interesting than the hot mess that is drarry/tomarry???
like, i'm not bashing you for liking canon pairings, but it is factually untrue that fanon pairings are automatically less interesting than canon pairings! that's a you problem! your statement reads like you think heterosexual pairings are better than homosexual pairings and i hope you realise that just sounds homophobic.
and also! grindeldore doesn't count! there is no canon evidence for it. jkr did say it was canon, but it... it literally wasn't in the books.
#Not grindeldore bashing i love grindeldore#but saying you also like canon gay pairings and stating the one (and only) gay pairing that is never explored in canon is... a choice#do i have to tag anti canon ships? i don't hate most of them i just got annoyed sorry#THIS EXCLUDES FANON WOLFSTAR AND JEGULUS#tomarry#harrymort#tomarrymort#drarry#anti jily#anti hinny#anti remadora#fandom critical#fandom criticism
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And if I didn't know better
Or: One evening, Ginny reflects on her choice to step up for Teddy, while trying to navigate her grief for the loss of those who never could. Read here or on AO3:
She isn’t quite so sure what made her decide to step up for a child when she was hardly an adult herself. Not that she’d done much at first - she’d barely ever been there during the first year of his life, and she’d only gathered the courage to rock him to sleep a few months after she’d moved back home. It was more of a feeling, as if she’d accepted the responsibility deep in her heart before she could even trust her own limbs to hold him properly.
It feels like a lifetime away, now, as his little body is curled up against hers and his turquoise hair shines in the dim candlelight. They lay on several cushions and blankets scattered on the floor; an old white sheet stuck on four chairs hanging on top of their heads, covering the ceiling. They’ve built a fort, you know. Right after playing dragons and running around on invisible broomsticks (‘Feet on the ground, Teddy, please’). All in their living room, all after having dinner.
Harry’s sent word that he’ll be home late - problems at the office. He sounded very disappointed to miss out on having Teddy over for the night, one of his favourite weekly activities. He usually sleeps over on Fridays, but they might have to switch it to Saturdays if Harry keeps on getting held back at work.
Ginny is seriously doubting that her strategy to try and wear Teddy out before bedtime has been effective, as Teddy’s eyes are still wide open and shimmering with energy. The cup of warm milk she’s offered him hasn’t quite done the trick, now left unfinished and forgotten on the floor right next to him. But then again, Teddy’s undergoing that toddler phase where nothing in the world can get him to wind down unless he decides to, thank you very much. How did Hermione call him? A threenager? Where did she even hear such a ridiculous thing?
She looks down at him again, as he has started to move his tiny hands and notice the corresponding shadow movements reflected on the sheet. His expression is full of wonder, not a care in the world, and she’s so grateful for the look in his eyes (and, yes, for the rare moment of quiet as well) that she feels her heart could explode.
‘Look, Teddy,’ she says, joining her thumbs and wiggling the rest of her fingers. ‘Isn’t that an eagle? Oh my, how did it get here?’.
Teddy squeals with laughter, unable to contain his excitement - the sweetest sound in the world.
‘Again, Ginny, again!’.
She regrets it, to have hesitated back then. It’s not that she didn’t care for him when he was a baby - quite the contrary, actually. She’d known she loved him so much since before he was even born; that one Christmas morning when Tonks had grabbed her hand and had gently placed her on her pregnant tummy. But she was scared, terrified of messing it all up, of not being good enough. She still is sometimes - she’s just learned to cope with it better, or maybe to hide it better. She reckons that nobody really knows how to deal with a child from the beginning, especially when it’s not their own; and they are all a bit broken now anyway. But it doesn’t really matter, does it, as long as they’re there for each other, as long as Friday nights are still about dragons, invisible broomsticks and animal shadows on a fort sheet ceiling.
.
Harry had dived into the role with all his seriousness and solemnity because, well, what else do you expect. He’d tried so hard to get Teddy to like him from the start, as if there could ever be the risk that he wouldn’t. He’d show up to Andromeda’s house bearing so many gifts that she’d had to beg him to stop once and for all, for the love of Merlin.
‘I just want to do something nice for him, you know,’ he’d told Ginny later, his brows furrowed and his glare focused on his tea mug.
‘But you already do,’ she’d said, her hand gently squeezing his thigh. ‘You’re there for him. That’s as nice as it gets.’
She could tell she hadn’t fully convinced him, just as she knew that he hadn’t been exactly truthful either. He wanted to do something nice for Teddy, sure, stepping in those daunting godfather shoes as smoothly as possible. But he wanted to do something nice for himself too, for his much younger self, trying to give away all the love and attention he’d been missing all his life. And she couldn’t really blame him for that, now, could she.
‘Gin,’ he’d murmured, his whisper almost pleading. ‘I don’t think I know what I’m doing.’
She’d moved her hand from his leg to his jaw, resisting the urge to cut him off with sarcasm, ‘Have you ever, though.’
‘Nobody asks that of you right now, Harry. You’ll figure it out.’
He looks at her, still unconvinced. ‘But Tonks and Lupin -’
‘No,’ she’d shushed him, gently pressing a finger on his lips. ‘Not even them.’
That’s the thing - nobody had asked her to, either. And it’s not that she’d felt compelled to act as an unofficial godmother only because of her relationship with Harry. He’d certainly never expected that of her.
She’d felt hurt when her mum had implied that once. As if that ring that Harry had placed on her finger dictated all of her choices, as if she had to have a reason to desire to care for Teddy. As if she hadn’t known Tonks and Lupin, too.
No, Teddy's become part of her life because of a very careful and important choice she’s made. It has been so incredibly natural, and it has required quite some effort, both at the same time. But it’s always been there, no matter what.
There hasn’t been a single Quidditch match she’s played without looking for him and Harry in the stands; there hasn’t been a single house she and Harry have looked at without thinking about what room could become his for when he stays over. There hasn’t been a single time she hasn’t thought of him when looking at the clear blue sky.
.
‘And what about this?’, she asks him, still twisting her hands to give life to dark shapes on the sheet.
Teddy lets out a sweet chuckle. ‘A rabbit!’.
‘Good job, Teddy!’’
He claps his hands in excitement and his hair seems to have become an even brighter shade of blue.
‘More, more!’
‘Let’s see. What about…’ Ginny says, continuing to move her fingers. ‘This?’
He seems to think about it for a second, squeezing his eyes, wrinkling his nose. Then he beams.
‘A wolf!’
A beat.
‘Er - no, it’s a dog -’
‘No, it’s a wolf!’
‘Teddy -’
And before she knows it, he starts howling.
‘Wolves aren’t scary, Ginny! You shouldn’t be scared!’
She looks at him in horror. Total panic. Her mind blacked out. That’s the one thing she hasn’t brought herself to do with Teddy yet - talking about his parents. Or even mentioning them, to be frank. She’s quite selfishly left that to Harry, because what does she know about this stuff, he’s a child, she doesn’t want to mess it up for him. She’s quite sure that she would, if she tried. She can’t even think straight after he’s seen the shadow of a wolf rather than a dog, after all. What a stupid way to react to a child acting his age, playing and having fun. Stop this. Don’t be a git, please stop this.
It’s almost as if Lupin and Tonks never enter the bubble that she creates when she’s with Teddy - which is absurd, nonsensical, completely idiotic. But, well - her insides knotting in guilt at the mere thought - it’s easier this way. She feels ashamed of herself, absolutely fucking revolted. Now that he’s inadvertently brought it up though, a three-year-old braver than she’ll ever be, and he’s opened Pandora’s box (some famous Greek witch, she reckons), she's at a loss for words. It’s so subtle that she should just let it slide - she must, actually. He hasn’t even asked her anything, he hasn’t even made the connection. He doesn’t even know.
Her mind is racing out of control and he hasn’t even done it on purpose. She’s the one who’s acting like a lunatic. She doesn’t know why she feels like she should say something, doesn’t even know what, because it would all sound wrong anyway.
You know, Teddy, she almost hears herself saying, but you know, Teddy, what exactly? Why can’t she get this thought out of her head? He’s blissfully unaware, and he’s just a child that is playfully pretending to be a wolf, what the hell wrong with you, Ginny, pull yourself together.
She continues spiralling as she notices that he’s stopped howling, and is now observing her with curiosity.
Fuck, you’re going to traumatise him, aren’t you.
As she looks at him more closely, she notices that his eyes, that have been blue like his hair for months now, have now turned darker - a warm, chocolaty brown. And instead of feeling even more horrified, she simply calms down, her panic gone.
Funny how Lupin can offer her comfort even in death.
.
She is staring at the empty desk in front of her. The bell has rung and all her classmates have left already, but somehow she can’t bring herself to get out of the classroom and head to lunch. Not yet, because she is staring at the empty desk in front of her so intensely, almost as if she could get it to talk to her. She remembers sitting there, less than a year ago, just before her memory had gone blank into one of her many blackouts. She remembers opening her diary on her lap, bored to death at the sound of Professor Lockhart’s pompous voice, she remembers jotting down a few thoughts pretending to be taking notes. Then she remembers a voice, his voice, and nothing more. Maybe if she stares at the desks hard enough, it will come back to her, maybe she will remember how she got from the classroom to Hagrid’s shed and then back to the castle again…
‘What are you still doing here, Ginny?’.
She blinks once, and then once again, trying to bring Professor Lupin’s greyish frame into focus. She isn’t sure since when he’s been sitting on the chair in front of her.
‘Are you looking for something?’, he asks, watching her carefully. She must look rather lost, because he quickly adds: ‘You did well in class, today.’
‘I - er, no - I mean, thanks,’ she blurts out. His dark brown eyes are still focused on her, studying her in detail.
She clears her throat, as if to gather her courage. There is something she’s been wanting to ask him, actually, but she isn’t even sure that she should bring it up. Percy has made it clear that she shouldn’t talk about it with anybody, but Percy doesn’t really understand what it feels like, doesn’t it? To lose control, to not know.
‘I suppose you were wondering what happened on the train a few days ago?’, says Professor Lupin bluntly, as if it’s the most obvious thing on the planet.
‘How do you -?’
‘You wouldn’t be the first to ask.’
As she observes him a little more closely than ever before, she realises he must be much younger than he looks. He has a few grey locks of hair here and there, his face is tired and emaciated, but he doesn’t have wrinkles around his eyes and mouth like her dad.
He smiles, encouragingly. She clears her throat again.
‘My brother Percy’s told me about the Dementors,’ she mutters, her glare back on the desk. ‘I know they make people feel bad. It’s just -’.
She suddenly hears it again, that low, yet so familiar voice, telling her she should not be frightened. Then flashes of light, blood, screams, and her clothes are unexplainably damp.
She shivers, subtly patting her robes. She’s fine. She’s fine.
‘I did some things last year,’ she hears herself say. She doesn’t even know how she’s managed to gather enough strength to.
‘I just fear - well, I guess I worry that the Dementors will make me do them again.’
Professor Lupin falls silent for a few seconds. He continues to watch her, but has now stopped smiling.
‘From what I’ve heard, you haven’t chosen to do any of those things.’
He’s heard, then. She doesn’t wonder why - she reckons stories must travel fast among Hogwarts staff, too.
She would normally be ashamed, but now she can’t help but feel a hint of relief, stemming from Merlin knows where. After all, yes, he’s heard, but he’s still talking to her like she isn’t any different; he’s heard, and he’s still offered her chocolate.
‘Don’t worry, Ginny, Dementors can’t make you reenact your bad memories. They surely make you relive them, though,’ he furrows his brows, as if an unexpected thought has suddenly crossed his mind. ‘Do you - er - have enough support here?’
She’s taken aback by this question, shame creeping on her cheeks. ‘I’ve got four brothers here,’ she quickly responds, but she knows that this isn’t what he means. She sighs. He seems to understand.
‘I’m working on it,’ she sputters, defensively. ‘It’s not exactly easy to make friends when all the girls in your dormitory think you’re a freak.’
It comes out spontaneously, but she immediately regrets using that tone with a professor. However, to her great surprise, he bursts into laughter.
‘I guess you’re right,’ he says, throwing her an enigmatic look. ‘But believe me when I say that friends are the most precious gift that Hogwarts can give you. Real friends will help you overcome all the hard times; and if they think you’re a freak, well, they’ll choose to be freaky with you.’
He stops smiling, suddenly looking rather thoughtful, but then quickly shakes his head. Somehow, she ends up with the strange feeling that he’s no longer having this conversation only with her.
‘Might I suggest,’ he adds, now back to his reassuring tone. ‘That you perhaps try to talk to other students that might have had - how to put this - a similar experience to yours? Harry’s a good friend of your brother’s, isn’t he?’
She feels it coming - the blush. One of the big ones. One of the bad ones.
‘No! I don’t think -’, she hisses, suddenly horrified, redder than she’s ever been in her life. ‘I don’t think that would work.’
He raises his eyebrows, the corners of his mouth slightly twitching.
‘Well, you never know,’ he states matter-of-factly. He then stands up, patting his hands on his legs. ‘But now I must really let you go. I wouldn’t want you to feel unwell during your next class because you haven’t had any lunch.’
She nods, grabs her things, mutters an awkward ‘Thanks’. Just when she’s about to leave, she hears him speak again.
‘It may be hard to understand now, but what happened to you doesn’t define you. Please, don’t ever forget that.’
It’s true, she doesn’t understand that quite just yet, but she will remember those words for the rest of her life.
For now, she’s busy spending the next few days ridiculously terrified by the thought of Professor Lupin telling Harry about their conversation. She imagines Harry looking at her with pity, disgust even, as a stupid little girl who can’t bring herself to make some friends. But this doesn’t happen - Harry barely ever looks at her, and when he does he seems, well, normal. She’s quite glad of that, for one. She’s also so incredibly glad that Professor Lupin respected her enough to keep her secret, that he could be trusted.
Years later, she’ll regret never having told him that she and Harry had fallen in love. She’ll reckon he would’ve liked to know that, he might have even been delighted. She’ll figure, as a punch in her stomach, that she’d assumed they’d have more time.
.
‘You know what, Teddy, you’re right,’ she finally says, gently stroking his hair. ‘Wolves aren’t scary.’
He beams, looking rather satisfied with her answer, and pulls up his back to sit against a big pillow.
‘Let’s play another game!’
Ginny sighs at his never ending source of energy; her hopes that relaxing under the fort would somehow make him drowsy are completely shattered. She quickly glances at the clock on the wall - if Andromeda finds out that Teddy's been up so late, she’ll never hear the end of it.
‘Time out, Teddy,’ she says, faking a yawn. ‘We should really go to bed now.’
Teddy frowns, pouting his lips and wrinkling his little nose.
‘What if we read the story of Babbity Rabbity?’, she then intervenes tentatively, hoping to jump in just in time to prevent a tantrum. ‘Come on, you love Babbity Rabbity…’
But Teddy isn’t having it. He shakes his head fervently, now crossing his arms.
Ginny wonders if this is the time to be a bit more assertive with him, if she could dare, even. Sometimes she feels like she’s still tiptoeing around him - she’s the one giving him all the fun and games, but when it comes to discipline, she finds that she’s quite rattled. He’s not her child, after all; she fears it’s not her place. Most of the time, she finds herself wondering how Lupin would deal with his son’s tantrums; she would love to see what Tonks would do. She reckons she would do anything to learn a bit more about parenthood from them both, even though (and to only remotely fathom this, her heart sinks) they haven’t had the chance to be parents for long. They would’ve been brilliant at it, though - this is merely her fantasy, sure, as she actually doesn’t know. Tonks and Lupin will remain fundamentally pure in her memory, because she doesn’t like to remember their flaws, especially not in relation to Teddy, and it won’t do any good to anyone, anyway.
‘Why don’t finish up your milk first?’, she tries again, pointing at the abandoned mug on the floor. With a flick of her wand, she mildly warms it up again.
He nods enthusiastically, but something goes wrong when he grabs the mug and he spills all the remaining milk all over himself and the blanket. He immediately looks up at her, his eyes filled with remorse and anticipation, almost as if he’s realised he’s gone a step too far. Ginny is aware that Teddy’s clumsy to the point of exasperating his grandmother, and that he might even expect a scolding for his little distraction, but she feels a sudden rush of affection towards him instead.
‘All right,’ she says, standing up and taking him in her arms. ‘Time for another bath.’
She could easily scurgify and dry up his pyjamas, but she remembers how good it would feel when her mum would bathe her and then wrap her in a warm towel, always offering her snuggles and kisses along the process. She repeats the same ritual with Teddy, even playing with some dragon and quaffle toys in the water with him, just as her mum used to - only that the toys, at the time, were old and faded, sometimes missing a paw or an eye.
She wraps him in the softest towel she can find, swings him in her arms while dancing across the hallway to reach her bedroom, and pretends to drop him on her bed. He laughs so hysterically and uncontrollably that his hair becomes curly. Her heart couldn’t be any more full.
She retrieves his pyjamas bottoms with a quick ‘Accio’ and helps him wear them, but decides to leave his milk-stained t-shirt on the bathroom floor. She ransacks first Harry’s, and then her own clothes drawer in search of something clean for Teddy to wear that isn’t the top of Harry’s Auror uniform, a pair of mismatched socks, a bra or some old Christmas jumpers.
That’s when she sees it, stuck in the back of the drawer - a hint of green. She touches the cotton fabric and seizes it. It still feels soft, despite having been left unworn and forgotten in a drawer for years.
She realises her hands are shaking. She’d never thought she could’ve forgotten.
.
Ginny had never assumed she could smell dust before, but now she’s quite positive she’s been in the wrong all her life. As she sits in the dining room of 12 Grimmauld Place, taking a break from the massive amount of cleaning her mother has decided to subject her to since they’ve moved here (no exceptions, not even today), she feels like every inch of her body is covered with dust. Her hair, her fingers, her nose - to the extent that she thinks she can actually smell it. And it’s not great, considering that the more extensive the efforts they make to clean up the house, the more the house seems to turn out filthier than before.
Today it’s only her and her mother on cleaning duty, though. Everyone else is too preoccupied with what’s going to happen tomorrow - the tense whispering and nervous pacing are becoming almost unbearable. Her mum is worried too, of course, but she reckons that trying to tidy up this wreck of a place is the only way she knows to distract herself at the moment. Ginny is, for one, happy to oblige. She’d never thought she’d say this, but she’d rather dust every single one of those house-elf heads hanging on top of the stairs with a toothbrush rather than giving in to everyone’s anxiety.
Amused by the thought, she gets up to go and do just that, but someone barges loudly in the room from the door behind her back.
‘Wotcher, Ginny,’ says a ringing voice. ‘So, where's the party?’
Ginny smiles at Tonks, who has styled her hair in a bright purple ponytail today. Before she can say anything, Tonks hands her a little parcel, wrapped in crumpled paper that must have once belonged to an issue of the Daily Prophet. She recognises some of the scattered, black-inked words - ‘The Boy Who Lies?’, or: ‘Let’s hope he hasn’t got a scar on his forehead or we’ll be asked to worship him next’, and: ‘Delusional teenager’, ‘Better skilled at seeking attention than golden snitches’, ‘Expert Circe Bryce confirms that orphaned children often employ cunning strategies to cope with their abandonment complex (more on page 8).’
‘Sorry,’ utters Tonks with an apologetic half-smile. ‘That’s all I could find.’
Ginny shrugs and lets out an unlikely high-pitched cackle. Laughs at the irony of it all. Everything seems to be overflowing with Harry these days, even her birthday presents.
She rips out the paper, unsure whether she’s more eager to see what’s inside or to get those stupid printed words out of her sight. The first thing that she finds is soft and bright green, an unmistakable green, and she already knows what it is.
‘You didn’t!’, she cries out in complete disbelief. ‘No way!’
‘Heard you’re a big fan.’
Ginny wields a Holyhead Harpies t-shirt in her hands as if it’s a trophy, her most prized possession, and her eyes are sparkling.
‘The design is from 1981, the year you were born, I s’pose,’ continues Tonks with a satisfied look on her face, pointing at the golden print on the front of the t-shirt. It reads Holyhead Harpies in a curly font, never seen before. ‘I thrifted it from a small shop in Diagon Alley. I should take you there some time.’
Ginny nods with excitement, although she’s only listened to half of what Tonks’s said, too busy marvelling at her new t-shirt.
‘Come on now,’ adds Tonks, sounding very amused, pointing at the half-opened parcel. ‘There’s something else in there.’
Ginny opens her eyes wide and immediately dives her hands into the wrapping paper. She finds something thin and folded - when she opens it, it reveals a moving picture of Gwenog Jones darting through the air on her broomstick.
‘She’s a badass, isn’t she,’ comments Tonks. Ginny doesn’t respond right away, too busy mentally scanning the walls of her bedroom back at the Burrow to decide where to hang the picture.
‘Blimey, you’re spoiling me, Tonks,’ she manages to let out after a bit, still holding the t-shirt with one hand and her new poster with the other. She then throws her arms around Tonks’s neck, squeezing her tight. ‘Thank you, so much.’
She doesn’t quite know what she’s done to deserve Tonks’s affection after knowing her for barely over a month. It’s true, they spend most of their days together under the same roof, but they seem to have just instantly connected regardless. Tonks embodies everything that she aspires to be one day, plus she’s bold, unbelievably funny, and doesn’t coddle her. It feels good to be surrounded by women that aren’t her mother for a change - soothing, even. For what may be the first time in her life, this summer she’s truly felt the urge and longing for female companionship - maybe because she’s finally started getting used to it, back at school and here at Grimmauld Place. And now that Hermione’s back to fussing over Harry with her brother, and her mother is too busy running around yelling at people, she’s really only got Tonks to rely on. What amazes her is that Tonks doesn’t seem to mind - on the contrary, she appears to be rather thrilled to spend time with her when she can, unbothered by their age gap, almost taking her under her wing. In a time of her life in which she feels left out, a spare, Tonks has chosen to give her some purpose, to make her feel necessary. She doesn’t know why she does it, only that she’ll be eternally grateful for it.
‘Ah, it’s nothing,’ smiles Tonks, gently pulling away from her to give her a pointed look. ‘I’m sorry that we didn’t celebrate you more, though.’
She doesn’t need to add more about lingering wars, resistance movements and impending Ministry hearings.
‘What are you talking about,’ says Ginny, brushing those thoughts off quickly. ‘This birthday’s been dashing. Even your cousin’s made me a card.’
That’s quite true, actually. Her mum's baked a cake and everybody (well, except some angsty black-haired teenager, know anyone?) gathered around the table to sing her ‘Happy birthday’ first thing in the morning. Then she's opened her gifts - a jumper from her parents, quite a few boxes of Honeydukes from all her brothers, and the unexpected birthday card from Sirius, with the handmade drawing of a flying hippogriff that waves hello and smirks at her. Hermione's got her a book, unsurprisingly - but that’s frustrated her a little, because she knows she won’t be able to reciprocate on her own birthday, except with a stupid singing card and (if she’s lucky) with a box of chocolates stolen from one of her brothers.
Tonks chuckles lightly. ‘Has that special boy wished you a happy birthday?’
Ginny shrugs, and just as she’s about to mutter a resentful ‘Barely’, she realises with a pinch of guilt that Tonks is talking about - well, another boy.
‘Michael’s sent me an owl,’ she says, blushing softly. ‘Said he misses me.’
‘Bet he does,’ remarks Tonks, observing her very carefully all of a sudden, as if she wants to read her mind. She waits a few seconds and then, rather out of the blue, she simply adds: ‘Don’t ever settle, all right?’
Ginny frowns, puzzled. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
Tonks doesn’t answer, but winks at her, laughing. ‘You’ll understand with time, you’ll see.’
And indeed, she will.
.
Ginny wonders if the small shop in Diagon Alley is still there after the war. She’d like to find it now, pay it a visit, maybe purchase something in Tonks’s honour. They’d never managed to go together, in the end.
She exhales heavily and taps the vintage Holyhead Harpies t-shirt with her wand, shrinking it just enough to fit Teddy perfectly. She reckons he should keep it; she doesn’t seem to have it in her to wear it, anyway.
Teddy falls asleep peacefully wearing that t-shirt and maybe it’s pathetic, maybe it’s irrational, but she can’t help hoping that his mother’s touch will comfort him in his dreams tonight.
She’s so deep in her thoughts that she doesn’t notice that Harry’s arrived home until he plants a gentle kiss on the back of her head.
‘Tough evening?’, he asks softly, gesturing towards Teddy.
Ginny sighs, leaning her head on his chest. ‘It was fine.’
He seems to understand, though, and decides not to push further. They hold each other in silence for a while, their eyes captured by the little boy snuggled under the blanket and asleep in their bed. Staring at the past and the future, all at once.
#ginny weasley#teddy lupin#remus lupin#nymphadora tonks#hinny#Harry x Ginny#flashbacks#no plot just feels
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The thing is,
You can see HBP from Ginny's pov as the emotionally excruciating process of dealing with coming to terms with still having feelings for Harry, feelings that are now reciprocated after years of pining, mixed with an intense sense of guilt over poor Dean's unfortunate position in the whole mess...
OR
(and this is a lot more fun)
You can see it as Ginny being in the middle of one of those classic teenage tv series love triangles. On one side there's the good guy, the reasonable choice, the one no fan if not a couple of delusional ones is rooting for because he is kind of boring. And on the other side, you have the fan favourite, the dark brooding guy with light eyes who would let the world burn to save the girl. Rationally he is kind of a terrible choice but the girl is obviously in love with him and, let's face it: there wasn't really any competition to begin with.
#was I thinking of tvd while writing this? Maybe#Harry as the bad guy is just too funny#hinny#found this in my notes I had to post it
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Harry love interests: *a muggle born witch* *his best friend's younger siblings* *a slyderin prince who is also a black*
James: I'm so proud of him <3
(This is both a nod to fanon ships and canon ships)
#regulus black#james potter#marauders#jegulus#jily#harry potter#hinny#drarry#harry potter x hermione granger#pls dont hate i beg you#sorry yall i got confused my bad#Hermione is not a red head im just an idiot
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Literally why is Ginny STILL so horrible about Fleur? Even after the incredibly touching scene where she proves beyond all doubt how much she truly loves Bill. It's unseemlyl
And the way she gets mad at Harry for saying something even so mildly nice about her and isn't mollified till he plays it off with a joke. Book 5 Ginny would never have done that. Book 6 Ginny is petty and mean spirited.
#Harry Potter#i have nothing against hinny shippers#but will tag#anti hinny#just in case people want me to#anti ginny#tho really im not against her as a character either.
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Harry Potter Incorrect Quotes #9
Ginny: Pass the salt.
Harry: *Sweetly* What's the magic word?
Ginny: *Pulling her wand out* Or else.
Harry: *Nervously passing her the salt* Here you go, love of my life.
#incorrect quotes#harry potter incorrect quotes#incorrect harry potter quotes#golden trio era#harry potter#ginny weasley#harry x ginny#hinny#ginny would absolutely bat bogey hex his arse just to get the salt#i love ginny
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Hello!! First of all I wanted to say I’m obsessed with your writing ❤️ Your hinny feels so real and nuanced, and I really appreciate how well you address their trauma and struggles they might have in their relationship while also showing their deep love for each other. Because of this, I would LOVE to hear any thoughts you have on what Harry and Ginny would be like as parents, such as what their biggest challenges would be/how they'd get through it, etc (and if you have hcs about the kids that would be the icing on the cake 😁)
you are a true angel for this! although i do (of course, always) have takes on harry and ginny as parents, i'm going to save them for another day while i still have other writing bits to do. BUT what i do have is a WIP fragment of a dad!harry and james scene that i originally wrote for the orchards sequel and that i'll probably never do anything with but that i sort of like anyway, because james is my favourite potter child for no reason other than i love the idea of harry potter and ginny weasley having accidentally given birth to someone easygoing/ronald weasley 2.0. i really hope you enjoy!
In the kitchen, four o’clock, sunny day, warm. He takes the potatoes out of the oven, gives them a good shake in the tray.
‘It’s nice, our house.’
When he looks up, James is at the kitchen island, going to town on an enormous bag of crisps. It’s a source of professional anxiety how easy it is for his children to sneak up on him. ‘Glad you think so,’ he says to James, as he puts the potatoes back in the oven. ‘You’ve only lived in it your whole life.’
‘Yeah, but I never really thought about it before.’ Big bite, raspy crunch. When he turns back, James is looking out of the kitchen window, peering into the garden, like it's his first time seeing it. ‘When you’re little, you just think it’s your house, don’t you. You don’t think, hey, this house is nice. You just think, this is our house.’
‘I suppose not. Don't fill up on crisps, you'll not want dinner.'
His son scoffs at that - as well he might, the appetite on him these days. Gin says it's a Weasley birthright. With another munch, James starts examining the ceiling beams. 'I like it,' he says decisively. ‘It’s a good house. Big, loads of light. Homely. Good garden, plenty of bedrooms. Gets sunshine from all sides. Not far from Granny and Grandpa Weasley’s. Near the sea.’
‘Is this you telling me you’re considering a career as an estate agent?’
‘Nope. Just saying.’ James considers his next crisp clutched between his forefinger and thumb. ‘Reckon I’ll raise my kids here, too. Leave it to me in the will, won’t you?’
‘Not sure about that one. What about Al and Lil?’
Dismissive wave of a hand. ‘Easy. I’ll pay them off. There’ve got to be some perks to being the eldest son. First-come, first-served, that’s the rule.’
'And Teddy?'
'Easier still. He still owes me for running over my foot in that driving lesson. I've been limping whenever I see him, laying the groundwork.'
He looks at James, black birdnest of hair, bright brown eyes, scrum of freckles. He’s got quaffle blisters on the base of his palms.
‘You’re doing it again.’
‘What thing?’
‘What thing, he says. Staring at me. That sentimental thing you do.'
‘I don’t do a sentimental thing.’
‘Yeah, you do. Al and I take bets on how many times you'll do it at family events. Your eyes get that spaced-out look. You’re about to tell me you love me, aren’t you?’
‘I do love you.’
'Yeah, yeah.' Eye-roll from James, though he's grinning. Tosses the crisp packet in the bin with a Chaser's precision. They take love in their stride, his children: receiving it, giving it out in spades. 'Listen,' he says, 'about those roast potatoes - very important - '
‘Crispy. I’m on it.’
'Good man,' says his son, and heads for the door. 'Back in a bit. I'm going to go map out where I'm going to put my swimming pool.'
#writing#next gen#i don't know what this is but i hope you like it anon#just a dad roasting some potatoes for his hungry son#and the hungry son roasting him right back#that's parenting folks!#dad!harry has my heart#james sirius potter#potter family#ginny weasley#hinny#if you squint#microfic
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Hinny 💭
The fact that Harry Potter was going out with Ginny Weasley seemed to interest a great number of people, most of them girls, yet Harry found himself newly and happily impervious to gossip over the next few weeks. After all, it made a very nice change to be talked about because of something that was making him happier than he could remember being for a very long time, rather than because he had been involved in horrific scenes of Dark Magic.
- Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, p. 535
#my son is daydreaming about ginny with a dopey smile on his face#he doesn’t notice she’s right behind him#she loved the look he got on his face when he would see her or think about her#don’t mind her just admiring her bf up close#ginny x harry#harry x ginny#harry potter#ginny weasley#hinny#harry potter ai#ai generated
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ginny: *kisses dean*
harry: LETS PLAY A LITTLE GAME I MADE
#ALL YOU GOTTA DO IS PICK A CANDYBAR ONE GOT A BLADE#plz tell me u guyz know the song#or else it’s embarrassingly unfunny#bro was actually TWEAKING when he saw her with other guys 💀💀 he is the crazy one in the relationship#he became ops with everyone then and still would say to himself ‘nahhh ginny’s just a friend ☺️’#FRIEND??? 😨 bro u had a BEAST in you you started growling and everything!!!! in what world…..#harry potter#hp#hinny#ginny weasley#ginny potter#dean thomas#rewriting#it was b/w this and ‘guys guys i need u to spam rozzy chill rozzy chill rozzy chill rozzy— NO ROZZY DONT CHILL 👹👹’
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Think
@hinnymicrofic Day 13 | 288 words
With Cho, he overthinks.
He overthinks about how to ask her to the Yule ball, until it is too late and she has a date already.
He overthinks about how cool he looks next to Neville and Luna with sap from some weird plant in Neville's lap covered on his face.
He overthinks how to flirt. How to find the right funny thing to say that might make her smile.
He overthinks how to kiss her for the first time. Where he should place his hands, how much pressure should he put into his lips? Open or closed mouth? He waits for an excuse like a mistletoe to kiss her.
But with Ginny, everything comes naturally. It is innate, as easy as breathing. As if his body was wired to know how to be with her without even thinking how to be.
He doesn't think to ask her to the ball, but he subconsciously watches her all night long. How she winces when Neville steps on her toes.
He is not embarrassed sitting next to Neville and Luna with sap on his face because she is sitting right next to him, covered in it as well. She laughs at the look on his face before cleaning him with a simple charm.
He doesn't even consider it flirting with Ginny as they tease each other constantly that summer before his sixth year. Everything he says makes her smile. And everything she does makes him burst into a fit of laughter.
He kisses her without even thinking about it or without ever planning it. One look at her blazing gaze and Harry knew. He knew how to hold her, how to kiss her.
With Ginny, he doesn't think. He knows.
#i think he knows#is it perfect? no#but here it is#i wrote this just for the but with ginny paragraph#hinny#hp#harry x ginny#harry potter#ginny weasley
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