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maximoff-pan · 3 years

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l’amore de ma vie | fred weasley

Summary: When Fred invites you to Bill and Fleur’s wedding, your feelings for your best friend are stronger than ever before. What happens when you realize just how much you love him?

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Fluff...i-is that a warning?? Anyway buckle up for some sickly sweet goodness....

A/n: I know, I’m terrible. It’s been a little while longer than I’d intended but I hope this makes up for it! Feedback is very very much appreciated! I love seeing what all of you think of my writing! Without further rambling from me....enjoy!

Sidenote: This is a total AU. It completely deviates from canon, as Bill and Fleur’s wedding goes smoothly in this version. No violence here haha...only happiness! (I guess what I’m trying to say is, in no way shape or form is this an accurate recollection of the books, this is purely from my imagination...)

• • • • •

“Fucking weddings...” you mutter as you walk through the massive white tent that adorns the front lawn of the Weasley residence. Everything is perfectly displayed, tables meticulously set, with delicate flowers littering the venue.

The romance of it all makes you want to throw yourself into Bill and Fleur’s masterfully crafted, six-tier cake. And watching as Molly rushes in and out swiftly with the brightest smile on her face, it all reminds you of how you should be getting ready right now. But you just can’t stomach that.

It’s not that you’re not happy for Bill....you’re ecstatic and you absolutely adore him. He’s been a role model for you almost your entire life. And it’s not like you’re not an absolute romantic, because you are...but weddings always make things complicated. They manage to dig up feelings that you’d rather not confront.

Feelings for a certain Weasley twin...

That’s why when he (said twin) and George invited you to the wedding, you were reluctant to say yes. It’s hard to pin point exactly when you felt your friendship with Fred (at least on your end), morph into something more, but you’ve managed to keep your feelings for him locked away for the better part of four years. And as far as you’re aware, the only person that’s truly caught on is Hermione...because you’re convinced at this point that she just knows damn well everything.

“Something on your mind?” A voice startles you, bringing your attention back to the bustling world surrounding you.

Turning around slowly, you’re greeted with Bill’s towering figure. You huff out a quick, teasing laugh. “You know, it’s not nice to interrupt a lady’s thoughts.”

“Forgive me,” he chimes with a chuckle of his own.

Bill knows your humour, and he knows you well enough to recognize when you’re using it as a defence mechanism.

“It just looks like you’re about ready to make a run for it,” he continues, “and I wanted to make sure my favourite guest doesn’t ditch me on my wedding day.”

“You know I would never ditch you.”

Bill sends you a look, clearly not impressed by your jokes. You can tell he knows something’s wrong, but you don’t want to be the first one to bring it up.

“I’m fine.” You reassure with a soft smile. “I promise.”

He only nods at you, and he’s not quite sure if he’s convinced, but he’s confident things will work out in the end. “You know, I best be getting ready.” He grins wide. You reciprocate his grin with an additional giggle.

“You best be. Or else Fleur might divorce you on the spot.”

“Wouldn’t that be a shame.” Bill shifts his weight from foot to foot. “I’d have the record for the shortest marriage in wizarding history! Mum would have an absolute shit fit.”

You both burst into a fit of laughter, before you’re nudging him out of the tent and towards his home.

There’s a comfortable pause of silence as Bill thinks to himself. He can see it in your eyes exactly what you’re thinking about. Having been around you for years and Fred even longer, and watching the two of you grow up together, he knows what’s troubling you. Bill Weasley is not a stupid man, and he knows love when he sees it. Better yet, he knows the fear of losing that love that runs rampant in your mind. If Bill has learned anything in his years on this earth, it’s that love allows for the greatest of happiness but it also allows for the greatest manifestation of fear. Unrequited love can be more painful than the relief of returned feelings, but Bill Weasley knows you both well enough to know that these feelings you and his brother share, they’re anything but unrequited.

“I should probably be getting ready too.” You break the silence and remind yourself of the upcoming event as you step through the front door of the Burrow.

You both turn to each other, acknowledging your parting of ways. You hear Arthur shouting for his oldest son from above. “I guess that’s my cue.” Bill simply nods in the direction of the staircase, taking a step towards it. You stand still, just watching him for a moment.

He leans his head over his shoulder for a brief second, already a few steps up the winding stairs. “Oh and (Y/n),” he breathes, “my brother may be an oblivious twat, but to give him some credit, I see the way he looks at you, and I’d be blind to say he isn’t in love with you too.”

In love with you too....

And as soon he’s said it, the cheeky bastard’s disappeared up the stairs, leaving you dumbfounded and completely still.

Fucking hell. Your mind wanders, his words at the forefront....so apparently Bill knows and surely if Bill knows, George must too. Are your feelings for Fred that obvious?

• • • • •

You step through the doorway to Fred and George’s room hoping to find a certain twin. You spot him sitting cross legged on his bed, fiddling with a prototype for the shop that you’re sure you’ve seen him working on before. His ginger hair is messily in his face, his tongue sticking out in concentration. He’s the picture of a working artist....pranking materials being his art. You heave a sigh. Like you, he’s nowhere near ready for the wedding that is going to take place in a few hours.

“Do you know?” His head whips up at the sound of your voice. It’s such a vague question, one in which a normal person would question what it itself is in relation to, but George knows exactly what you’re getting at. But maybe he’ll screw with you a little first....

“I know lots of things love. You’re going to have to be more specific.”

A groan passes your lips. Maybe he doesn’t know....but the way his lips are turned upward, the smirk that seems to be growing on his face tells you otherwise. You’re not blind; you know the games George Weasley likes to play.

“Don’t be coy asshole.” You send him a look that says ‘try me.’ “I know you know. My question is, why haven’t you told me that you know?”

“I haven’t a clue what you mean.” He continues testing the waters of your frustration, seeing just how far he can go before you snap.

“Oh fuck me!” You exclaim, hands thrown up in the air. You point at him, eyes narrowing in his direction. “You’re a prick George.”

His grin only widens. “I’m pretty sure you’ve got the wrong twin (Y/n). Last time I checked, Freddie’s the one you want to fuck.” He says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

And....Bingo. There it is. The exact confirmation you wanted and feared.

You recoil, eyes widening at him. Your voice goes soft, serious. “Why didn’t you tell me that you knew?”

His warm eyes meet yours, a calmness to them that is surprisingly reassuring. “I’ve made a living out of not taking things seriously and meddling in other people’s lives (Y/n), but what you and Fred have, I won’t meddle in that.” He pauses for a moment, his voice softening. “It’s not my business to push you two together. You’ll realize it at your own pace.”

“Realize what at your own pace?” Fred leans his body against the doorframe. He’s dressed in a suit, his hair done up nicely, and unlike his twin, he looks entirely put together. The irony almost makes you laugh. You’ve always known George to be the prepared one, ready hours before he needed to be. And Fred a scambler, leaving everything to the last second, to be fashionably late was his life motto.

“Just how stupid the two of you are going to look all dressed up with no dates.” George answers for you, keeping the true nature of your conversation a secret. “Even Ginny’s managed to catch the chosen one.”

You huff out a laugh. “You’re an idiot.”

“Ah,” George muses. “But I am an idiot with a date.”

Fred grins at the two of you and your banter. “Angelina’s better off without you as her date.” He jokes.

A laugh passes your throat, Fred joining in with you. “Oh, sod off!” George pipes before shoving the two of you out to get ready.

• • • • •

Hours later you find yourself ready on time, a shocking revelation to you and each of the Weasley’s. And George is too. He sits beside you grinning like a mad man. Fred is on your other side, smiling all the same.

The ceremony is wonderful and quaint. You knew the moment you saw Fleur all those years ago, just how beautiful she was, but you never could have imagined just how much you’d grow to think of her like a sister. And it’s funny because you’re neither a Delacour nor a Weasley, and yet you feel like you belong. It’s different from the love you know Harry and Hermione feel for the Weasley’s, because ultimately, they’ll both marry in and it will be official, and as much as you love Fred, you know that will likely never be the case for you. But that’s the thing you love most about Molly and Arthur and their children: you don’t have to be related by marriage or blood to be a Weasley.

And seeing Fleur and Bill smile, seeing the pure happiness that they exude in this moment, it makes you forget why you ever questioned coming. It makes you hope that one day you can find what they have. You’d spent the last few minutes mesmerized by their first dance as a married couple. You’re so caught in a trance that you don’t hear the clapping when they’ve finished and stepped off the dance floor.

Your eyes snap up at the clearing of a throat beside you. George nudges you and you turn to look at him. He points at Fred who’s gazing at you curiously. You must have looked like a daft idiot, an utter love struck expression on your face.

“I’m sorry.” You laugh. “Did you say something Freddie?”

“Dance with me?” He asks.

Fred’s question lingers as you contemplate whether or not to accept his outstretched arm. But then your eyes drift up to his, and you catch the mischievous glint that rests in them. It’s in that moment that you know there is no turning back.

Groaning, you relent into his touch. “One dance.” You say, but you know that if he asked, you’d dance the night away.

The grin that spreads onto his face is nothing short of beautiful. It’s unmistakably perfect the way the light catches his features, his ginger hair glowing in the overcast moonlight, and an ethereal aura glistens from his skin. Fred looks youthful...and he looks undeniably happy.

Gripping your hand, he leads you to the dance floor. You catch a brief glimpse of Bill whose lips are tugged into an encouraging smile. Fred snaps your attention back to him as he pulls you into his body, bringing your arms to rest around his shoulders. You can hear the faint thrumming of the slow and melodic music drifting towards you, but all you register is the sound of Fred’s heart beating against yours. Wrapping yourself in his embrace, you allow yourself one second to believe that he might feel the same.

Your feet move in sync almost flawlessly, and it’s as if you’re reading each other’s movements without any effort. (Despite being known for your clumsy nature). But if you’re being honest, it’s always been like that with Fred....easy that is. Easy to read each other, easy to be with each other. It’s just natural.

“You’re quite graceful Freddie.” You nudge him playfully, breaking the silence between you.

“And you’re quite...” his voice drifts softly, “something.”

The half scoff, half laugh you let out rings in his ears. “Are you implying that I’m not a good dancing partner?”

“You’re a formidable partner love, just a shit dancer.”

Your eyes light up in amusement. “Well we can’t all be as graceful and beautiful as you Fred Weasley.”

He plays along happily. “No.” He agrees. “I guess we can’t. But I reckon everything else about you, your beauty, your wit, your affinity for kindness, makes up for your lack of dancing skills.”

It’s that self assured attitude that draws you to him. Yet he’s not the slightest bit arrogant. He simply believes in himself, knows his strengths and his weaknesses, is completely aware of his self worth, and he won’t let anyone tell him otherwise. It’s addicting to be around, and a quality so desperately you wish you could find in yourself.

And when Fred compliments you, you can believe that he’s telling you the truth. He makes you believe things about yourself that you would never dream to think about on your own. As cheesy as it sounds, he makes you feel seen. He makes you feel special. And it’s so strange because for as long as you can remember, everyone has always thought of you as merely the best friend of the infamous Weasley twins. Hardly to anyone had you been your own person with your own identity. But Fred never made you feel like that. You’ve always been someone to him, not just a product of who you chose to be friends with.

“You shouldn’t say things like that you know.” Your voice goes quiet.

Fred notices the change in your body language as you begin to close yourself off from him. “Why not?” He asks. “It’s the truth isn’t it?”

Your eyes catch his and your breath hitches. This feels like something. It feels like a moment, the moment that you’ve been waiting for. You never believed Fred could ever feel the same for you, but the look he’s giving you feels so so real.

“Fred, do you-“ You start, but he cuts in for you.

“Feel it too?” He finishes.

“Yeah.”

“I do.” He replies.

Your heart races in your chest as he pulls you closer into his embrace. This confession of feelings is nearly wordless, and yet it feels perfect. You’ve never needed to say a lot to Fred for him to understand you.

You’ve always just had that kind of connection.

You barely notice that you’re still dancing, your bodies moving on autopilot. And the people around you fade to nothing. Your focus is solely on the man who holds your heart in his hands.

Your movements slow as Fred tilts your chin towards his face. “I’ve been in love with you since we were 11 years old.” He says. It’s nearly impossible for your mind to process it. “I’ve known for so long, I just didn’t want to ruin what we have. But I reckon if there’s ever a time to do it, now seems pretty good.”

A gentle smile rests on your face, your heart warm at his words. “Now is perfect.”

Fred hums softly, his warm brown eyes searching yours for any sign of regret. He sees nothing but adoration staring right back at him.

“Can I kiss you?” This is the first time you’ve seen Fred so timid.

You smile coyly, nodding your head. “Such a gentleman.” You tease, pulling him gently towards you. Your lips meet so softly and briefly that you almost miss it.

But no matter how brief, it’s a feeling you’ll never forget. You both want more of each other, but you also know that standing in front of Fred’s immediate and extended family and friends, you can’t simply put on a show for the world to see, as much as he wants to.

You pull back for a moment only to find yourself wrapped in each other’s arms, swaying to the music. Most people in your situation would say something. Maybe they’d profess their love, or whisper sweet nothings into their lover’s ear, but right here, right now, words don’t need to be used.

You don’t need to say I love you to feel that you are loved. And you know Fred feels the same.

• • • • •

Off to the side, Bill takes a moment to part from his wife, approaching his younger brother with a shit eating grin.

“Bloody hell.” George runs a hand through his hair, spotting Bill striding towards him.

Their eyes lock for a moment and George notices his oldest brother’s lip quirk upward. “You owe me 20 galleons.” Bill states matter-of-factly.

George grumbles, reaching into his pocket to pull out the payment. Handing it to Bill, he smiles. “Get back to your wife you tosser.”

Bill nods, taking a step towards Fleur. He turns to face his brother, eyes glinting with mischief. “Just know, when they get married, I’m telling everyone I won.”

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Taglist:

@amourtentiaa

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x you #fred weasley imagine #harry potter x reader #harry potter imagine #harry potter imagines #fred weasley imagines #fred weasley x y/n

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celtics534 · 5 years

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Last Couple Years Have Been a Mad Trip

The doom days are upon us! A new Muggle AU. Doom Days by Bastille inspired this story. @gryffindormischief and @thedistantdusk have been amazing helping me with this fic!

Also read on: FF.net or AO3

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Harry watched the bird soar high above him. The sun was finally out after weeks of a cold rain hounding the United Kingdom. He was tired-- that bone tired where all you want to do is curl up in a soft bed and sleep for days. But he couldn’t. He had to finish his mission.

He hefted the large duffle bag back up his shoulder as he turned his attention to the man walking out of the storefront. Well, what had once been a storefront. Now it resembled a stereotypical bunker, the kind one might see in a film; boarded windows and steel locks covered every opening. The neon lights that had once shown a bright advertisement had been smashed. No one would ever guess it was a makeshift hospital.

The man kept his hood up as he approached Harry, a slight limp slowing his pace. Harry didn’t say a thing, just waited. The hooded figured stopped right in front of Harry, his hand outstretched. “Harry.”

“Neville.” Harry took the offering smiled at his friend. “How’s it been?”

Neville reached up and removed his hood, revealing a black eye and multiple cuts. “Eh, same old same old.”

Harry shook his head. “What you do to deserve that shinner?”

“Eh?” Neville’s fingers gently touched the bruise. “This is nothing. You should see the other guy.”

“I’ll get right on that, but first.” Harry rolled the strap off his shoulder and handed the bag to his friend. “There’s everything you asked for.”

Neville unzipped the bag a few inches to peer into it. After a quick examination, he nodded and closed the duffle. “This will help a lot of people. Thanks, Harry.” He pulled out a few ration cards and handed them to Harry. “Your payment.”

Harry took the cards with a nod of thanks. “Do you have anything else you need?”

Neville glanced back at the hospital. “Not right now. I have a good stock on most things.” He lifted the bag slightly. “These plants will go a long way to helping some of the children feel less pain.”

“I hope so.” Harry took his glasses off his nose and cleaned the lenses with a clean corner of his shirt.

“What about you?” Neville placed a comforting hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Do you need anything? Bandages? Alcohol? A good night’s rest?”

Harry snorted. “I haven’t had a good night’s rest in over three years.”

Neville let out a low, deprecating laugh. “You and everyone else. Well, if you need a bed for the night, our doors are always open for you.”

A lump formed in Harry’s throat. “I - Thank you.”

“Of course.” Neville patted his shoulder twice before stepping back. “Oh, by the way. Have you spoken to Arthur Weasley lately?”

Harry felt a jolt of electricity course through him at the mere mention of the name Weasley . He pushed those feeling away as quickly as they came: This was not the time or place for his mind to think about her .

“Er-- not for a while now. Why? Is he okay? The family?” If something had happened to her, Harry might snap.

“No, well...” Neville backtracked. “I think everyone is fine, but Arthur's been asking around. He’s been looking for you.”

Harry’s panic faded, allowing his brain to function again. “Me? Did he say what he needs?”

Neville shook his head. “No, just to pass the word.” He grinned. “This is me, passing the word.”

Unable to stop himself, Harry snorted at his friend's poor humor. “Thanks, Nev.”

“Anytime.” Neville hung the bag strap on his shoulder. “Do you know where Arthur lives?”

Harry knew where to find the Weasleys. He never would admit it, but he’d kept tabs on them… on her... for the past few years. “Yeah. I’ll be fine.”

Neville nodded once before limping back into the boarded brick building he had come from. Taking a deep breath, Harry turned and started back down the dirty cobble street. The building that the Weasley’s called home was an hour walk from his current location, and Harry wanted to make it there before nightfall.

His feet knew the way through the back streets of London without any thought. He had taken every path across the city. Hell, he’d actually been outside the constructed walls that surrounded the district.

Harry still found it odd how the once great, large city had been reduced to small divisions. Mismatched pieces of metal stuck up from the ground as dividers, allowing appointed guards to keep order. It was safer that way, controlling who came and went. At least that’s what they claimed. But it still made Harry’s blood boil every time a mother and child were turned away, just because they didn’t have any ration cards or were unwilling to sell their bodies to pay their way in.

The street was starting to clear as curfew drew closer and closer. No one made eye contact, choosing to keep their eyes downcast and to move quickly.

The last three years had been hard on people. The nearly constant fear was evident in the way people held their bodies. There was no such thing as trusting your neighbor anymore. No-- your neighbor would be the one to rob you blind the minute you turned your back.

Harry knew this all too well. Hell, he'd been both victim and thief before. Survival was the goal, above all else. If it was a choice between them and him, he'd always choose him.

Well… there were some people he put first. The Weasley family were among the honored. They had practically raised him from the moment he and Ron became mates. Molly and Arthur Weasley were the best kind of people, Harry thought, for loving a poor, orphaned child.

There was only one person Harry held above his adopted parents --

No!

Harry shook his head vigorously, hoping to rid his mind of her... her and that red hair that always looked so smooth, those freckles that bunched together whenever she wrinkled her nose, and how could he forget --

Fucking hell! Harry pinched his arm. He needed to stop before he fell back down that rabbit hole.

A light rain started to fall, making Harry’s feet speed up. It wasn’t long before he reached the brown brick building that housed Arthur and his family. Harry looked at the peeling black door, trying to ignore the scratchy feeling between his shoulder blades. Inside that building was his family who he hadn’t seen in…

Harry ran a hand through his now-wet hair. Had it really been two and a half years since he’d seen them?

Movement by the ground floor window caught his eye. Someone had been looking at him. It only took another five seconds for the front door to open and manifest into Harry’s best-yet-worst fantasy.

“Harry!” Ginny rushed out into the rain and wrapped her arms around his neck. Instantly, she clouded his senses. Her scent, a sweet, warm smell that had driven him crazy from the age of fifteen, filled his lungs. And the feeling of her fingers grazing the small hairs at the back of his head sent shivers down his spine.

“I’ve missed you,” Ginny spoke into his neck, her breath somehow spreading warmth down to his toes.

“Hey, Gin.” Harry refused to acknowledge the way his heart had started beating a tattoo against his chest.

“What are you doing here?” Ginny asked as she pulled away. Her hair had already plastered to her forehead and her face was flushed, but Harry’s treacherous brain could only see the adorable dimple caused by her smile.

“I-- er-- your dad was looking for me.”

Ginny’s dimple disappeared as she frowned. “He was? Huh.” She looked back at the house; the faint light from a candle positioned in the entrance lit the doorway. “Well, let's go find out why.”

“You know, you should have asked me a security question before coming out of the house,” Harry gently reminded her. Ginny snorted. Her arm tucked into his as she led the way into the warm light.

“Please, I’d know you from a mile away. No one could imitate your crazy hair.” She reached her free arm around and ruffled his damp head.

Harry had to stomp on the butterflies that erupted in his stomach. He cleared his throat and tilted his head away from her onslaught. “ Still .”

“Fine next time, I’ll hold a knife to your throat as a greeting. Sound good?”

“That’s all I ask.”

Ginny’s laugh was loud in the unnatural silence of the once-busy metropolis. “It’s so good to have you back, Harry.”

Harry wanted to close his eyes and pretend that they were a normal boy and girl. He wanted to pretend they had no worries or fears, just two people who were going home together. But that was impossible for seemingly endless reasons. So instead, Harry just enjoyed the way her hand brushed his as they walked.

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“I think Dad’s in his office.” Ginny led the way by candlelight. Harry loved the way her shadow played off the walls, not to mention how it highlighted all of her flawless curves.

Holy fucking Jesus, man! Harry mentally screamed at himself. Keep it in your pants .

Not like that was a real challenge. Between his jobs, healing from injuries he somehow sustained and pining for the red-head currently swaying her hips in front of him (because yes, he knew what pining was -- and that he could be the definition for it), Harry was the poster boy for abstinence.

But, fuck , every time he saw Ginny…

“I’m gonna go make some tea.” Ginny stopped in front of a closed white door, “I’ll bring you and Dad some.” She placed the candle down on a stand and pulled Harry in for another hug. “Don’t even think of leaving before I see you again, got it?”

Harry nodded.

“Good boy.” She patted his cheek. “Now go talk to dad.” Harry watched her walk back down the corridor, his eyes still drifting to watch her hips. Fuck!

Shaking himself out of his fantasy, Harry turned to knock on Arthur’s door. There was a quiet call for him to enter. The small room was more cluttered than Harry remembered, though he really hadn’t come into this room very often. He had been more focused on heading to local green space with Ron or(though he’d never admit it to Arthur) pretending to work on his homework while really watching Ginny twirl her hair around her finger as she actually worked.

Arthur smiled at him as he entered. “Harry! How are you, son?” The older man stood up to hug him.

“I’m good, Mr. Weasley.” Harry clapped Arthur on the back.

“Now, Harry.” Arthur pulled away and gave him a friendly glare. “I’ve told you before. It’s Arthur . How many times do I need to remind you?”

Harry smiled. This was how life should be. This was normal. “At least once more.”

Arthur laughed heartily at Harry’s classic answer. “Glad to see you haven’t changed.” He gestured for Harry to take the spare chair from the corner. Arthur waited until Harry settled himself in front of the desk before speaking again. “So, I’ve heard you’ve made quite a name for yourself.”

Harry shrugged. “It’s according to whom you talk to. People tend to exaggerate.”

“Well my source, which I’ll name to be Neville Longbottom, told me you’re rather good at getting items for his hospital.”

Again, Harry shrugged. Smuggling supplies from outside the walls really wasn’t too hard as long as you knew the way and had the right equipment.

Arthur leaned forward in his seat, as he took off his glasses for quick cleaning. “Harry, I --” He swallowed hard as he placed his spectacles back onto his nose. “Harry, Molly’s sick.”

Harry’s heart plummeted into his stomach. “Sick?” His voice was raspy, so he cleared his throat before trying again. “Which kind of sick?”

Everyone knew there was sick and then there was sick . The latter being far worse.

Three years previously a plague started to form, and yes, plague was the only word for it. It started at Parliament and then hit Scotland Yard. Within twenty-four hours, ninety percent of the government forces were dead from some unknown illness.

The sickness (or what people took to calling “Morsmordre”) continued to spread to commoners. Within a year of the first death, over half of England’s population was dead. Over time, the power of Morsmordre seemed to lessen. People were still developing the symptoms, but it was taking longer for it to completely destroy their system. The downside to that was it prolonged their suffering.

Anarchy had been created in the chaos of the disease. Power was lost and phones became a thing of the past. Bands of rebels had formed and made it so the common man couldn't feel safe, even in their own home. That was when the walls were built around the city of London. Guards manned the entrances (they knew of) refusing entry to people without clearance.

Arthur gulped audibly and Harry could see the tears start to spring to the man's eyes. Harry had to look away. Here was one of the strongest men Harry knew brought to tears. Fuck this world! And Molly… not Molly.

Harry reached out a hand. Arthur grasped it tightly as he gulped in large breaths of air. After a minute Arthur spoke in a tight voice. “I've heard of a certain plant that can help…”

“Arthur.” Harry understood what going to be asked of him. “There isn't any cure. Everyone knows --”

“Harry.” Arthur's cut him off. “I have to try. You understand, right?”

And Harry did. He truly did. He would do anything if it meant that Molly would be fine. Yet… Harry had seen enough of this world to not hope. But when he looked into Arthur’s eyes he knew he couldn’t say no. “Arthur…” He sighed. “Where can I find this plant?”

“Find the…” Arthur shook his head. “You misunderstand me, or I guess I haven’t explained myself. I want you to take Ginny to Bill’s.”

Harry blinked rapidly. “You want me to… what?”

As Arthur opened his mouth, a knock on the door announced Ginny’s arrival. “Tea, gentlemen?” She placed a tray with three steaming mugs down on the messy wooden desk between Harry and Arthur. “I brought all the fixins’.” She perched herself on the edge of Harry’s chair, one of the mugs clutched between her hands. “What are you two talking about?”

“Ginny,” Arthur sighed. “I --” His voice choked as a sob rose past his lips.

“Dad?” Ginny’s smile fell as she moved to her father, placing her tea aside. “What’s wrong?”

Arthur breathed deeply as Ginny rubbed soothing circles on his back. After a moment he lifted his head. “It’s your mother, Ginny.”

Harry watched as Ginny’s face paled; she understood everything her father couldn’t say. “No.” It was more of a plea than anything. That one word almost made Harry leap from his chair and pull her into his arms, but instead, he remained stationary, watching the scene before him with his gut clenched painfully.

“Ginny, I need you to go to Bill’s,” Arthur spoke calmly, but because Harry knew the man so well, he could see the pain his own words inflicted on him.

“No!” This time, it was a refusal. Ginny stood stock-straight, glaring at her father. “I won’t leave you.”

“I need you to be somewhere safe while I go find a cure for your mother.”

“Dad, I don’t need to be hidden away.”

Arthur rose and placed his hands on his daughter's shoulders, looking her dead in the eye. “You don’t think I know that? I raised you, Ginny. I know what you’re capable of.”

“Then why--”

“Because your mother and I need to know you’re safe.” Arthur didn’t raise his voice, but his tone had the same commanding effect as if he had. “I need to focus on this right now and that means I’ll be going outside the walls--”

“Dad, that’s illegal without the proper clearance. If anyone should do it, it’s me. I’m younger so I’ll move faster. Not to mention--”

Arthur just shook his head, cutting off his daughter. “No, I need to do this.”

Ginny glared at her father, her lips becoming impossibly thin. “Dad.”

Sighing deeply, Arthur pulled his daughter into a hug. “I love you, Ginny, but I'm not changing my mind. I want you and Harry to go to Bill's.”

“Wait…” Ginny looked back and forth between her father and Harry. “Me and Harry ?”

“Yes. I'll feel better with you watching each other's backs. Not to mention you haven't been outside of the city in at least two years.”

Harry watched Ginny bite her bottom lip. If he didn't know better he'd say she looked guilty. Actually, he did know better: Ginny had been outside the walls.

Arthur took advantage of Ginny’s silence. Kissing the top of her head, Arthur took a step back.“Not to mention, you and I both know how contagious this disease can become.” He looked at the framed photos of his beloved sons. “I'm going to go check on your mother.”

And just like that, Harry was alone with Ginny. Neither of them said a thing, both lost in their own thoughts. Harry still couldn’t wrap his mind around it. Molly Weasley was -- she was -- the words refused to be spoken, even in his own mind.

“ Fuck! ” Ginny’s sudden outburst made Harry jump a meter in the air. “Sorry.” Though she didn’t really sound sorry. “But Goddamn it! I knew something was wrong, but I didn’t want to think...”

She turned her face away, but Harry knew she was holding back a sob. This time, he didn’t hesitate. Harry rose from his seat and placed a hand on Ginny's back.

“Hey.” He didn’t know what to say. Words had never been his strong suit. His hand started making small circles between her shoulder blades. He could feel her body tremble. “Ginny.”

When she turned, Harry got a quick view of silent tears and a set jaw before her face was buried in his shirt. His arms wrapped around her form, wishing he could do more. He could feel her sobs now, though she remained silent.

Harry held her while her body shook. After a few minutes, the tremors calmed and her breathing seemed to even out. When she pulled back, her face was blotchy and tear tracks ran down her cheeks, but to Harry, she was still the most beautiful woman.

“Thanks, Harry.” Ginny ran a fist over each cheek, trying to dry them. “I know that probably made you uncomfortable.”

“No!” Harry spoke way too quickly and way too loudly for it to sound believable. But really, it hadn’t made him feel awkward at all, which surprised him. He had never been good with tears, but for some reason, when Ginny cried it didn't make him want to run and hide. “I - I - are you okay?”

Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! Of course, she isn’t alright you dolt!

Ginny shook her head but gave him a small smile. “No, but I’ll have to be. I’ve learned that nothing in this world is safe.” Her eyes glanced at the picture that hung behind the desk. A photo of Ginny’s brothers Fred, George, and Ron beamed back at them. The photo had been taken two weeks before the first case of Morsmordre was discovered-- four weeks before all three of the men were dead.

That had been Harry’s breaking point. He’d lost his best friend, who had been more of a brother to him, to some fucking disease. And now, the same thing was happening to the woman he considered to be his mother.

“Ginny. I’m sorry.” Harry couldn’t say it enough. God, was he ever sorry...

“It’s not your fault.”

“I know, but--”

“Harry.” Ginny placed a finger over his lips. His attention fell to it, going cross-eyed to keep in focus. “Save your guilt trips for things that are actually your fault. If I remove my finger, will you be good?” He nodded and Ginny drew her hand back. “I’m going to go check on my mum and dad. Why don’t you start planning our route to Bill’s.”

Harry saw a flash of hesitation before Ginny’s jaw set again. Then she was on her tiptoes, her lips on his cheek. “Thanks again.”

And like that Harry was alone in the study. His body now felt cold without her in his arms.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

“Dad?” Ginny knocked on her parents’ bedroom door. “May I come in?” A muffled sob was the first thing sound she heard come out of the room, followed by a quiet throat-clear, and finally her father’s voice.. A candle in the corner presented the only source of light, making it so Ginny had a hard time seeing her mother.

Over the past few days, she’d known her mother had been sick. Molly hadn’t come out for dinners or accepted her invitation to play charades. Ginny just hadn’t known how bad her mother's illness had been, or maybe subconsciously she had just been hoping that it wasn’t Morsmordre. She’d flatly refused to consider the possibility.

But though it was hard to see in the faint light, she could tell her mother had the tell-tale signs of Morsmordre. There was no other way Molly could have gotten peeling green scabs across her face.

“Ginny.” Molly’s voice sounded as if she hadn't spoken in ten years. Moving in closer, Ginny could see her mother's brown eyes bleary and unfocused. “Did you talk --” Ginny's mother wasn't able to finish her sentence due to a guttural coughing fit.

“Mum.” Ginny couldn't even think as she grasped her mother's hand. The normally warm, comforting touch Ginny had always related to her mother was gone, replaced with what she would assume the dead felt like.

Molly took a sip from the straw Arthur offered her before speaking again. “I'm sorry we didn't tell you about this sooner, love. Your father and I thought you might run off and try to find a cure by yourself.”

Ginny nodded. That's exactly what she would have done. She would have marched across all of England if it meant she didn't have to lose--

Just when she thought was done with tears!

“Come here.” Molly slowly opened her arms, allowing Ginny to crawl in then like she used to do as a child.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Ginny gathered the last of her shirts, throwing them unceremoniously into her rucksack. After spending thirty minutes in her mother's arms, Ginny had felt as if the air inside the bedroom had been sucked out and she needed to get away.

Her mind had been blank as she packed everything she might need on the trip to Bill’s. Which was at least a four-day walk, and that was without any issues arising. Though Ginny hadn’t ventured far outside of the “safe zone” that London provided, she had seen enough to know that trekking across the country would have issues.

A knock on her bedroom door made her head shoot up. “Yeah?”

“It’s Harry. Can I come in?”

Ginny’s treacherous heart started beating faster than the wings of a baby bird's first flight. God! She hated that he still had this effect on her. Hadn’t pining for Harry the entirety of her teen years been enough? Of bloody course not! The moment she had spotted him standing outside their house, Ginny’s body had been out of her mind’s control.

She hadn’t seen him in over two years, and fuck, she’d missed him. They had been close friends from secondary school, but during their A levels, their friendship had taken on a new depth. There had even been a time, somewhere between Harry starting uni and her completing her A levels, where Ginny had thought something more than friendship might happen for them. But then the world had gone to hell in a handbasket.

“Ginny?” Harry spoke again.

Ginny mentally shook herself, jarring herself into action. She moved to the door and leaned against it. “How do I know you’re really Harry?”

“Really, Gin?” Harry exasperated tone made Ginny smile.

Fuck, I love the way he says Gin. “ Really really. I need you to answer a question only the real Harry would know.”

“Like what?”

Ginny thought about it for a moment. “What happened the first time we went to Brighton alone?”

She laughed as she heard a thump on the wall beside her. “Come on. Why did you have to bring that up?”

“Answer the question, Harry. If that is your name.”

His voice got even more muffled as he lowered his voice, but Ginny could faintly make out his words. “I tripped and fell.”

“And?”

“And I fell into someone.”

“ And? ”

“I tried to catch myself by using a stranger's breasts. Happy now?”

Ginny opened the door wide to a flushed Harry. “Very.”

Harry just shook his head. “Why do you like bringing that story up?”

“I haven’t mentioned it in like two years.”

There was a moment of silence between them. Their eyes locked. Then Harry’s lips quirked upwards before he snorted. “Well, you’re not wrong.”

“I rarely am.”

And that was the final straw. Harry laughed so hard his shoulders shook.

Ginny had to hold herself back because at that moment all she wanted to do was reach out and run her hand along his dark jawline before pulling his chapped lips to hers. Fuck ! Why couldn’t her brain understand that was never gonna happen?

Harry had stopped laughing and was staring at her with an intense look behind his glasses. Ginny knew that look. It had become commonplace during their teen years, and it was when she thought -- hoped -- that it was a look that said he wanted her more than just a best friend.

Crash.

Both she and Harry jumped backward as her half-packed bag tumbled to the floor, spilling most of the contents on the floor.

It wasn’t until she looked back at Harry that she realized that she had been moving in closer. Shit, her body had possessed her mind again!

Clearing his throat, Harry rubbed the back of his neck. “Right, so I just wanted to discuss the plan if you have a moment.”

Fuck! What was she doing? Now she’d made Harry uncomfortable for the second time in under five hours. God, she needed to keep it in her pants. But then again, while her mind replayed the delicate ten seconds before the bag fell to the floor in sharp clarity, she could have sworn Harry’s body had been tilting her way too. Had he been… Ginny blinked rapidly, trying to bring her eyes back into focus.

Nope! Don’t even go there, girl!

“Uh… yeah!” She moved over to the fallen rucksack, stuffing the clothing that had tumbled out back into the holder. “I’ll meet you in the sitting room in a few minutes.”

Harry nodded. He cleared his throat once more, before hastily retreating from the room. Ginny flopped backward onto her bed, her hands coming up to cover her face. Fuck!

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

“Then we can stop in Glasbury. I have a man who owes me a favor there.” Harry pointed to the small village on the map of England. “He should have some supplies if we need any.”

Ginny nodded. Harry had explained every possible spot where they could stop and have an ally. He had also explained that landmarks and county lines had changed. London wasn’t the only safe zone that created walls to protect its people so they could take advantage of the shelter. They just needed to know the right people… and apparently, Harry did.

“How do you know so many people along this route?” Ginny thought it was strange that Harry had so many people that owed him favors in all these locations. Why was he going towards Wales so often?

Harry sighed. “I have a client that likes me to bring certain items out to Dale.”

Ginny nodded. “What kind of things?”

“Things that aren’t easy to obtain.”

She hated when Harry did this; his mysterious and aloof attitude could really grind her gears. He’d acted this way when they were kids too, but she had knocked that habit out of him. It seemed like she was going to have to do it again. Rising slowly from her chair, Ginny leaned over the table as if she were trying to see a small detail hidden on the map. With the speed of a skilled cricket pitcher, she thumped Harry across the back of the head.

“Ow!” Harry’s hand jumped to the injured area. “What the fuck, Gin?”

“If we’re gonna be walking halfway across this country together, I don’t want any of your ambiguous bullshit.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “We need to be completely honest with each other, got it?”

Harry glared for at her for a few seconds, his hand rubbing the back of his head. “Fine.” He finally agreed. “But there will be some things I can’t tell you.”

Ginny shrugged. “You don’t have to be an arse about it. Just say, ‘Ginny, I can't tell you.’”

If Ginny hadn’t spent many hours watching Harry during their summer holidays and homework sessions, she may have missed the corner of his lips quirking upwards (the way they did whenever he was hiding his amusement). “Fine.”

“Good, now that’s settled.” Ginny leaned back over the map, gesturing to Abingdon. “Why did you draw a star there?”

Harry took a moment to respond, and when Ginny looked up at him through her lashes she could see that intense gaze focused on her again. It sent butterflies cascading through her stomach.

“Oh, er…” Harry cleared his throat. “ Right . I may be able to find us a car there.”

Ginny pushed away from the table and looked sharply at Harry. “No fucking way. No one has a car that’s worked in years.”

Harry shrugged. “Do you remember my old mate Seamus?”

Ginny had to think about it for a moment. “The Irish bloke that moved here during secondary?“

“Right in one! He was always rather good with cars. I helped him out of a tricky spot a year or so ago. I’m hoping he will be able to return the favor.”

“What are the odds of him having a car that runs, though?”

Harry pursed his lips while considering her question. “I guess we’ll just have to wait and find out. Even if he can’t help us get a car, Abingdon has protective walls like London. It will be a safe spot to bunk for the night.”

They fell into a silence, both staring at the map, seemingly lost in their own thoughts. Ginny, for her part, was trying to imagine how everything might have changed. The last time she’d been over towards the coast, all her brothers were still alive. Would things even be recognizable?

“Well.” Arthur’s voice from the doorway made Ginny jump. “It sounds like you’ve quite a journey ahead of yourselves. You should get some sleep. Harry, you can take the spare room across from Ginny.” And just as suddenly as he appeared, Ginny’s father left.

“He’s right.” Harry folded the map into a tiny square. “We’re going to need to leave early in the morning.”

Ginny nodded. They walked side by side to their rooms. When they reached the doors, both she and Harry paused looking at each other.

“Well…” Harry’s hand came up to rub the back of his neck. “See you in the morning.”

“Goodnight, Harry.” Without any conscious thought, Ginny got up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek for the second time that day. She let her lips linger a second longer than the last time, before slowly lowering herself back to the floor, her nose brushing along his jaw. Without another word she turned into her room, shutting the door behind her. She let out a huff, her eyes turned towards the ceiling as she fell back against the door.

#Hinny Doom Days #hinny #Harry Potter #hinny fanfic #hinny fic #harry potter fan fiction #harry X ginny #harry potter fanfiction

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bisexualsatan-blog · 7 years

Text

Dear Creator

First of all, thank you thank you thank you! I am sure I will love whatever you create and I promise I am easy to please. Also, this is my first time participating in the femslash exchange, and thus my first dear creator letter, so please forgive any inadequacies.

To find out more about me and my likes you can check out this blog, or my AO3.

I don’t have any specific prompts, but below I’ve listed out my general likes, as well as my absolute do not wants. I’ve also tried to go into a bit of detail on my requested fandoms/ships. All of these apply to fic and art, and I will be thrilled with either.

Likes - Found family; happy endings; hurt/comfort; magic, space/scifi, and super power AU’s; fix-it fics; ladies kicking ass and saving the day; heists, pranks, and other capers; rebels/revolutionaries; funny fics; nontraditional families; friendship; lots of affection; power/battle couples/moresomes

Do Not Want - Anything related to rape or sexual assault; no dubcon; no lifestyle bdsm and only the lightest of such dynamics in the bedroom; no A/B/O; no slavery; no pedophilia or significant age gaps; basically nothing that has questionable consent or unhealthy power dynamics; also no deathfic or super heavy angst/misery

To my followers: If you want to know what this is all about, check out http://femslashex.tumblr.com! Signups are open until the 23rd!

Fandom One - Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Buffy was the first fandom I had where I actually got involved in fandom and it will always have a special place in my heart. Buffy herself was and is my favorite kickass lady of all time and I love her strengths and her flaws and her dedication to protecting the people she loves, along with the world that has often treated her horribly.

I am a lifetime Buffy/Faith shipper, and love to see all that they could have been if they’d been allowed to be true partners instead of rivals.

I also love Buffy/Tara, and the idea that Buffy could have helped Tara find and affirm her own strength, and Tara could help Buffy find peace and safety.

Buffy and Willow had an amazing and mutually supportive friendship and it had potential for so much more.

And I’m also requesting and would love to see the dynamics with Buffy/Willow/Tara, and Buffy/Faith/Tara.

Fandom Two - Teen Wolf

Much newer fandom, but loved for much of the same reasons as Buffy: a found family of teenagers who have to save the world in between classes and family drama. Fair warning, I have not seen the most recent seasons (whichever one ended with Kira going off to the desert to learn is the last one I saw) but feel free to include later seasons in your writing/art.

Allison/Lydia is one of my all time favorite ships. Their friendship, loyalty to each other, and genuine affection all make perfect sense as romance, and they make an excellent power/battle couple which is a favorite trope of mine.

Allison/Kira didn’t get a lot of interaction in canon, but is a relationship I think has all sorts of potential. They’re both incredibly loyal, incredibly sweet, and incredibly badass, and both have had to deal with coming to terms with their true natures/heritage and the fallout of their actions.

Lydia/Malia have some great canon moments and I’d love to see their friendship fleshed out into full romance. They have great chemistry, very opposite views/approaches to things in many ways, and surprising similarities. This is a relationship I see having the fun/healthy kind of friction.

Fandom Three - Power Rangers

I grew up loving the original Power Rangers, the worst punishment I ever got in daycare was having to take a nap when it was on. The reboot had everything I loved and more. It’s diverse, modern, and fun as hell. It also has some of the most believable behavior for a group of teenagers getting random super powers I’ve ever seen. And yes, I am 100% on the Trimberly bandwagon.

This fandom already has most of the things you see in my likes up above, and I’ll be happy with anything you create for those two.

Fandom Four - Harlots

Very different from the above fandoms, but absolutely amazing. I was hesitant at first to get into this fandom (sex work is very rarely handled well by the media) but this show is ragingly feminist, historically accurate, absolutely gorgeous, and delightfully queer.

Amelia Scanwell/Violet Cross is a wonderful canon pairing that resonates a lot with me personally because my mother isn’t all that different from Amelia’s in terms of religious fervor and I love how Amelia is able to move past that and accept her feelings for Violet without self-loathing. I can’t wait to see their very sweet relationship continue in season 2, and would be happy with any fic or art of these two.

Charlotte Wells/Caroline Howard are not canon but have SO much potential. Both women who’s lives were controlled and harmed by the thankfully dead George Howard. Both women who have found ways to have power and freedom in a world that denies both to women. I’d love to see them finding/exploring that power and freedom in and with each other.

Fandom Five - Harry Potter

The ultimate fandom, the one we never truly leave even when/if we’re not particularly involved. I love the fandom for Harry Potter (sometimes more than the canon itself) and especially love the women of Harry Potter and the way we continue to give them more life. Hermione Granger remains one of my all time favorite characters, strong and brilliant and loyal and utterly ruthless, I adore her. Luna Lovegood is kind and brave and also strong and brilliant and loyal and has a gentleness despite hardship that I admire so much. Ginny Weaseley is amazing, so stubborn and clever and capable, with a fierceness of spirit that’s hard to match. I am requesting every combination of those three characters, and will be thrilled no matter what if one of these relationships is chosen.

Fandom Six - Dragon Age

My one true fandom love, it consumes me, as you can see by the majority content of this blog. I have played and loved all the games, and Origins and DA2 are tied for my two favorite games of all time.

I don’t even know how to begin to start describing what I love about each character and relationship I’ve requested, especially since so much of the characters are subjective based on player choice and experience, so feel free to browse my blog/tags to get a feel for what I like and I’m sorry I couldn’t write more here. (It would be a novel if I even tried.)

Hawke/Isabela/Merrill, Warden/Warden, Inquisitor/Josephine, Leliana/Warden, Morrigan/Warden, Inquisitor/Sera

Thank you again and happy creating! I cannot wait to see what you make.

#femslashex #dear creator #personal

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