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startanewdream · 2 years

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“Hmmm. First kiss?”

Harry blinked, diverting his gaze from the kites in the sky (he was just considering if he was too old to learn how to fly a kite).

“What?”

“Your first kiss,” said Ginny calmly. “How was it?”

“Why do you wanna know about my first kiss?”

“You were the one who suggested we try dating.” She shivered exaggeratedly as if the word offended her. Harry couldn’t help his laugh.

“How scandalous of me.”

“Usually people go on dates before they are in a relationship,” she noted, raising their intertwined hands.

“You know me, I don’t do things the usual way.”

Ginny smiled, moving closer to him on the bench. “This feels pretty normal,” she said in a small voice, winking at him.

Harry flushed, pleased; Ginny was right. So far, the day had been ordinary and that was the best compliment he could give it. Leaving the wizarding world behind to walk upon Muggle London had been a simple and yet brilliant idea. Here, there was no pressure, no tension upon any of their shoulders.

Here he was just an eighteen-year-old guy enjoying the day with his gorgeous girlfriend, two unknown faces in the middle of this very crowded city; a normal couple sitting on a bench at Hyde Park.

“So—your first kiss?”

“How is this a first date type of question?”

“Probably because it involves so many embarrassing moments that you know it can’t get worse afterwards.”

Harry supposed she got a point. “I have to say, I improved a lot afterwards,” he assured, pulling her hair behind her back casually. “You never complained,” he added. His lips traced the column of her neck, which earned him real shivers this time.

She giggled as she pushed him away.

“Nice try—but you are not getting away from this.”

“Ugh, a bloke had to try.” He placed a soft peck on her cheek before resuming his position on the bench. “Wet.”

“What?”

“How my first kiss went. Wet.”

She frowned. “Wet like—you were underwater or—”

“No, no. You know back when—well, she was crying so—”

“Crying? Oh. Oh.” Ginny patted his back. “It was not your fault.”

“One would think it would help to cheer her up.” He rolled his eyes, ignoring the pinkness on his cheeks. “That’s what your brother told me, anyway.”

“You know Ron is not the best relationship advisor in the world, right?”

“Considering how long it took for him to realise Hermione is a girl… yeah, looking back, I see it now.”

Ginny laughed for a moment. Then she threw him a furtive glance before looking up, to the same kites that Harry had been admiring before.

“Was it a nice kiss?”

“I… I don’t know!”

“Well—did you want to kiss her again?”

“I—I think so, I don’t know, I was fifteen and I was a mess. Why are you asking me this?”

She sighed. “Because I got curious. I couldn’t ask you before and for all she knows Hogwarts, A History, by heart, Hermione is terrible at details. We talk about this kind of thing,” she added, unashamed.

“Like—”

“Like everything. Well, almost everything. Turns out I can’t deal with details involving my brother.”

“Ugh. That makes us two.”

“Anyway—details.”

“I think in this aspect I am like Hermione.” He shrugged. “I didn’t pay enough attention.”

“It was your first kiss.”

“Hm.” His fingers traced the back of her hand. “She threw her arms around my neck. I looked at her and then I just knew what I had to do. So I kissed her—first I tugged her lower lip, and it was as soft as I thought it would be—and I had spent a lot of time considering it. And then I was holding her face and—funny thing about tongues, right? You don’t really know what to do until you are doing it and it is just so nice. I felt like I could go on like that for days—you know when time stops and it feels as if there are just the two of you in the world, but in fact, you are in the middle of the Common Room and everyone is just staring—”

“Hey.” Ginny’s eyes were sparkling. “That was not your first kiss.”

“No, but it was ours—and at that time I was noticing everything. I would have given a much better recount to Ron and Hermione, except—”

“They witnessed firsthand, yeah.” Ginny laughed warmly. “And you know what, kissing the girl you had a crush on for ages—that’s also a pretty normal thing.”

“Didn’t we kiss after I missed the match because I got a detention for cursing my school archenemy with a spell invented by a professor who spied—”

“Fine, fine. Not the usual way.” She kissed him softly on the lips; it was just a peck, a brush innocent by any standard, and yet Harry felt again that same brightness that always came attached with kissing Ginny. “I know you won’t ever ask, but I don’t remember either.”

“What?”

“How it feels to kiss someone else. Not to say I didn’t like them, or that snogging wasn’t nice—”

“Er—I would rather not think about it. Though—” He fidgeted with his free hand. “It was seeing you and Dean together that made me realise how I felt about you. So—silver linings, I guess…?”

“Oh, no.” Ginny slid closer to him again. “That’s not the kind of silver lining we enjoy,” she said, and then there was nothing innocent about their kiss anymore; it was pure light, warming and glowing, the kind that made Harry lose any sense of time and space.

When they broke apart, at last, Harry traced her face. “Sunlit days,” he declared.

“What?”

“Kissing you feels like this.” He gestured around, to the bright green grass behind them, where people were picnicking over towels; to the lake in front of them, where a water fountain was turned on, sprinkling them with steam when the wind turned; and then to the blue sky, only a few fluffy white clouds in sight. It was a hot day, and the sound of bird songs and people chattering just added to the normalcy that Harry most craved. “Like a summer day.”

She kissed the palm of his hand. “We will share all seasons now.”

He couldn’t wait for it.

#1k of pure fluff #Hinny #post war hinny #this part of something else #but then it just got a life of his own #Harry is a romantic when it comes to Ginny #Nothing can change my mind

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tomjamesavery · 1 month

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Reconciliations (Part One) Written for the Ginnyversary Bingo with the prompt: #O69 — "With her faded dress and worn shoes, she knew she couldn't go."

This is Chapter One of a two-chapter story, I will post over the coming few days :) Read on: AO3

Ginny stepped into the headmistress’s office in Hogwarts, as McGonagall greeted her with a curt nod. She was in a great mood. The weekend at home would bring her some much-needed relaxation, even with the whole wedding commotion.

“Miss Weasley,” McGonagall exclaimed in greeting. Her blue eyes observed her with what Ginny liked to call, The classic McGonagall look.

“Professor McGonagall,” Ginny replied, smiling at the Headmistress.

“The Floo is ready for you, and like we agreed, I expect you to be back on Sunday, no later than 8 pm. Is that clear?” The teacher sternly declared as Ginny nodded in confirmation.

“Well with that out of the way-” McGonagall gave Ginny one of her rare smiles. “-I wish you a nice weekend at Mr. Percy’s wedding. Please send him and Ms. Audrey my dearest regards.”

“I will! Thank you for letting me go!” Ginny replied, grinning at the Professor, just before disappearing into the flames.

A second later she was stumbling into the burrow living room, quickly dusting herself off in the process, struggling to get the soot out of her long hair.

Preparations were already in order, even though Percy and Audrey wouldn't marry at the Burrow like Bill and Fleur did, the whole kitchen and living room were filled with precooked dishes, desserts, and cakes for tomorrow. The smell was heavenly, and Ginny could basically hear her stomach yelling for something.

But that wasn’t on Ginny’s mind right now, she was glad McGonagall had let her go early since she still needed an outfit for tomorrow. Her dress for Bill’s wedding last year, had been destroyed in the fighting, and with the rest of her faded dresses and worn shoes, she knew she couldn’t go.

And there was another thing Ginny was nervous about. Harry would be there. And while they had mostly made up after what had happened before the battle, and over the time where he was on the run with her brother and Hermione. There was still palpable tension in the air between them.

The last time she had seen him was over a month ago when he had come to visit Hogwarts to help with some of the last bits of repair work that had to be done after the battle had destroyed large parts of the castle.

But the two of them had only exchanged some brief words, a heavy tension lying in the air throughout the whole conversation.

But right now Harry needed to wait, first Ginny needed to visit London for a dress new dress. There was no dress code for the wedding, Audrey-, to Percy’s dismay, -wanted to leave the choice up to each individual liking's, stating that it was just more fun, with which Ginny wholeheartedly agreed.

After Ginny had greeted her mother, who had been working in the garden, she quickly threw her bag onto her bed. Before taking the Floo to the leaky cauldron, where she met up with Fleur who would help her with picking out a fitting dress for the wedding.

The two women had quickly grown closer after the battle, as Fleur had been there for the family every single minute after they had lost Fred, and Ginny would be forever grateful for that.

Ginny greeted the older women with a wave, as Fleur stepped into the Leaky cauldron. Squeezing past a group of slightly tipsy goblins.

“Hello Ginny, you look great, I am happy to zee you!” She called out, quickly closing the distance before the two hugged tightly. Ginny could smell Fleur’s familiar lavender perfume, and it reminded her of the many evenings her sister-in-law had sat with her in the Burrow living room, listening to Ginny sharing all her favourite memories of Fred.

“Hi! I am so happy to see you too.” Ginny told her. “Thank you a lot for doing this, I would’ve been totally lost without you, dresses and I don’t go well together.” She chuckled, only making Fleur shake her head.

“Zis is so wrong! On mine and Bill’s wedding, you looked more than stunning in your dress!” Fleur honestly told her. “You have become a beautiful young woman, Ginny!”

Ginny slightly blushed under the praise as they made their way outside, and Ginny almost stumbled over a dancing Goblin.

They talked about Hogwarts and how the Wizarding and Witching world was recovering from Voldemort’s tough reign. Fleur and Bill had been promoted, and now both lead new rebuilding and subsidising departments at Gringotts. Things were looking up all around.

They walked in comfortable silence for a few minutes, and Ginny used the chance to take in the muggle architecture of the big city, still not feeling comfortable while these blasted muggle machines raced past them. Brooms were so much more convenient she thought.

They stopped in front of a red light at a crosswalk and Fleur stared at her for a second, before she spoke up.

“What is with Harry? Have you spoken to him rezently?” The blond woman observed her carefully and Ginny only stared out into the distance as she spoke up.

“No… Not really.” She paused for a while.

“I guess things between us are still complicated…” She started. “It’s just… I guess…” Ginny paused again.

“So much happened while he was gone, and we both went through so much, it takes time. We both still love each other, that I know. But we don’t want to rush things now.” She sighed, staring at the traffic light which had just turned green, as the two women crossed the road.

“See, I understand that.” Fleur began. “But there is taking things slow, and there is basically not doing anything at all.”

They had reached the other side and Fleur stopped to look at her as Ginny met her sister-in-law’s clear blue eyes. “Ginny, it has been eight months since the battle, you two can’t keep avoiding each other.” Fleur pointed out. “You two are made for each other, you love each other, you need each other! Every day you aren’t together you’re missing out on so much love and happiness.” She finished.

And Ginny knew she was right, she loved Harry, and she knew Harry loved her just as much, they had this bond, this connection neither of them could explain, they were drawn towards each other, every second of every day, every moment that passed her heart yearned for him.

But they needed to speak, and neither of them was especially great when it came to talking about their feelings. Ginny sighed, as she brushed her red hair from her eyes, the wind was blowing strongly and she was struggling to keep it under control.

She met Fleur’s gaze again before she spoke up. “You’re right…” Ginny admitted. “But how? We are just so bad when it comes to talking about what moves us and goes on in our minds.” She asked, making Fleur chuckle.

“Ginny, think back, your bond was so special, you told me that you and Harry could share anything, and there was nothing you two couldn’t talk about. You two just understood each other! Being able to talk about anything is so rare, and it just shows how much you are made for each other.” Fleur explained bluntly.

“You just both need to get over this mental blockade that things are suddenly different. Because they aren’t, you still love each other, you still get each other.”

Fleur was quiet for a second as she seemed to think before a grin crossed her features. “I think you are both just scared to discover that things between you have changed, that you have grown apart, and that you don’t love each other anymore. But all of that couldn't be further from the truth! You still are so alike, you still are so in love, and I think those months of hardship you both endured will just bring you two even closer together than you have ever been before!” She finished, looking at Ginny in understanding.

And Ginny knew Fleur was right. She had been scared to find a different Harry, a Harry she couldn’t love anymore, a changed Harry. And she was scared Harry would see her differently, and maybe would lose interest, moving on to someone else. But that was all wrong, those months of darkness had infected them with doubt and insecurity. Fleur was right, they needed to talk, as soon as possible, he was the love of her life, every day they weren’t together was a day without the person she loved most on this planet.

Her face broke out into a wide grin as she spoke. “Fleur, You are so- “-Right. I know!” The blond woman cut her off, smiling, making Ginny roll her eyes as she couldn’t contain her laughter.

“Yes, yes, you are right,” Ginny admitted. “Me and Harry need to talk, as soon as possible-” She stared ahead, the early spring sun bathing the houses in a slight tinge of orange. “-because I love this man more than anything else…”

#hinny #harry potter fanfiction #ginny weasley #harry potter #harry x ginny #fluff #ginny lovers #post war hinny #fleur delacour

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afinaldream · 2 years

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family of two

(Hinny, 1k words, post-war)

The water flows heavily over the empty sink. Ginny watches it for a moment before sighing and shutting off the tap. She dries her hands and, when she turns, she finds her fiance leaning against the door jamb, watching her with a wrinkle between his brow.

She forces herself to smile calmly. “How are the little devils?”

“Passed away on the couch.”

“The bedroom was too far for them?”

A chuckle. “They wrecked the house so much during the day that I was surprised they’ve only slept now. I am expecting at least twelve hours of peace.”

Her smile is more natural now. “You wish. Teddy wakes up with the sun.”

“And when he does, so does Vic.” Harry sighs exaggeratedly, though she knows it’s more for show than anything; he clearly dotes on the kids. That clenches her throat. “Well, that’s— six hours and twenty-three minutes of peace.”

“We should only take them in during winter,” she reasons. “Fewer sun hours.”

Another chuckle, one that doesn’t disguise that furrow on his forehead. He walks to her, concern over joy winning his face with every step, and Ginny tries to shrug, turning around to start drying the dishes. Harry doesn’t let her; his arms pull her closer, taking the towel out of her hand, mouth brushing over her neck.

An invitation to let go of her worries.

“What’s on your mind?”

She leans against his chest, accepting his warmth. “Who says I’m worried?”

A small chuckle; the air coming from his nose makes her shiver. His lips trace her skin. “You sighed four times. You did the dishes without magic. Your shoulders are all stiff. Pick one.”

“You know me too well—this can’t be good for our relationship.”

“I thought that was the mark of a good relationship.” Harry places a kiss over the column of her neck. “But I don’t know what’s troubling you.”

“Maybe I can have some secrets.”

Harry sighs. “You can,” he agrees, and then he moves to sniff the scent of her hair as he has done hundreds of times before, as if this is the air he needs. His hands lose their grip and Ginny knows Harry is about to press one last kiss to her, and then move back, drawn away to give her the space she needs; and she knows that if he does, she will just store away her concern, hoping it fades away and then—then it will resurface when she is not ready to deal with it, stronger and scarier than she feels now.

“I don’t know if I want to have kids,” blurts Ginny.

She turns to face him, heart beating painfully in her chest. Harry is blinking, mouth opened almost comically, and she hopes it’s more because of how she said it than because of what she said.

Or not. She knows Harry has always sought a family, she knows how important it is to him. A part of her always imagined starting a family with him, but then it was a long-distance concept, something far in the future, when even her twenties seemed afar. She has witnessed a few pregnancies now in her sisters-in-law, has seen all the ways the parents have to adapt—she has a fair guess why Bill and Fleur love when Vic spends the night with her uncles or aunt—, has seen the impact and none of it has been appealing so far. If there is magic in being pregnant, she has not witnessed it yet.

Harry is still quiet.

“I know I don’t want them now,” she adds. “There are so many things happening—”

Harry coughs. “We are too young,” he agrees, almost in a conciliatory voice; Ginny supposes she could accept this path for their talk, but then it wouldn’t be fair.

“But I can’t tell you when I will want it either. Or if I will. And if this is too much—I will understand if—” She swallows hard, voice almost breaking. “If you want to be with someone that shares this urge—”

“Hey.” Harry seems alarmed now, arms wrapping her as if to steady her as much as himself. “I am not with you because I want your—your womb, or something—”

“I saw you with Teddy and Vic. Pampering them, dealing with their little conflicts, teaching them—you want to be a father.”

“No, I want a family. And I have it here, with you. If we are a family of two—so be it, then.”

“And tomorrow—”

“Tomorrow I will still have you, your brothers, Hermione, Teddy. You are right, I’ve always wanted a family, the one I never got while growing up, and the thing is—I got it. I just didn’t want to be alone.”

“Harry, you will never be alone again.”

“I know it.” He smiles, his eyes shining as he sees something there with her and beyond. “And it’s not spreading my genes or seeing more Potters in the world that will change this, though—” He takes her hand, swirls the silver ring. “I would like at least one more Potter unless you are reconsidering letting me take your last name.”

Ginny laughs, some tension gone from her shoulders. “Harry Weasley would sound terrible,” she says, an echo of many conversations they’ve had about it, and just like all those times, Harry kisses her softly. “I’m sorry for dumping this on you,” she mumbles when they break apart. “It feels like something we should have discussed before, only I never considered how I felt about it, not really.”

“I’m glad we’ve had this conversation”, says Harry, and he sounds only earnest. “And I don’t want—I hope you never feel like there is something we can’t discuss. I love you.”

She presses her lips over his, lingering, just feeling the touch that can calm her more than anything else. “And I love you.” Ginny winks at him. “Do you wanna enjoy our remaining six hours of peace?”

Harry grins warmly. “How long until winter again?”

#Hinny #Post War Hinny #One shot #Discussing of having children #Harry never asks her why she feels this way #and I have a lot of thoughts about this

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harryandginnydeservesbetter · 1 year

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Harry : I have feelings for you

Ginny : I have feelings for you too

Harry : So what are we?

Ginny: ✨feelers✨

Hermione : ....I hate you both so much

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booksforevermore13 · 2 years

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it's going to be alright

Summary: After the war, they heal back together. But it's a long time before he sees her scars. Hinny, hurt/comfort

A/N: This was requested by @chef-hagrid a long, long time ago. I'm sorry it's taken so long to write, but I hope you like it :D

...

When the rain stops, then darling, what will I do? And I know I go all in, but why do I? You give me a reason, something to believe in, I know, I know, I know. You give me a meaning, something I can breathe in, I know, I know, I know.

...

When he woke up, Harry found Ginny’s arm over his chest, his head tucked under her. Ginny was asleep, her soft breaths lulling him into a daze. Harry allowed himself to close his eyes before he realised why they were in such a position. The nightmare.

Lately, in the mornings; Harry struggled to recall everything that had happened the previous night. The nightmare. What he had seen. What he had done. The first time it had happened, Ginny had been there to calm him down. Somehow, the prospect of not remembering anything terrified him. It had taken weeks for him to get used to the idea, but he had finally come to a point where he didn’t immediately burst into full blown panic upon waking up.

Harry sighed, then gently eased Ginny into a more comfortable position. Part of him felt guilty that she had had to stay in that position all night, but he gently pulled her up, caressing her hair as her back tensed.

“Go back to sleep,” he whispered, gently kissing her forehead before pulling up her covers for her.

Harry smiled as the sunlight fell over her hair, rendering it into a soft shade of red that reminded him of the sun peeking through a million falling autumn leaves. She was beautiful, he thought, his eyes flickering over her body, before they rested on the small cluster of marks peeking through the nape of her shirt.

His eyebrows furrowed as he reached forward, gently nudging her shirt a few centimetres to get a better look at what he hoped would not be what he was thinking.

And it seemed as if his whole world stopped for a silent moment.

Scars.

From what Harry could see, they were all over that small part of her back, and he could bet they spread all over her back too.

How had she gotten those? Why….why hadn’t she told him about them? What the hell had happened to her?

Harry collapsed back on the bed, his heart stricken by what he had seen, his mind conjuring up a dozen wild scenarios of Ginny being in pain, or being tortured, and he gulped down his panic, willing the thoughts to go away.

Is that why she had insisted on wearing oversized shirts the entire summer, never opting for anything else? Now that he thought about it, Ginny had never really spoken about that past year, what had happened in Hogwarts, what had happened to her. She had always only told him about the routine searches or the interrogations that the teachers had subjugated them to, and that was it.

How had he been so dense as to not suspect something else? Because he was damn sure those scars had not been there when he’d left.

“You awake?” he heard Ginny’s voice, and he let his hand drop from over his eyes, turning to look at her. Her eyes shone brilliantly, gazing into his as she smiled.

Somehow, Harry couldn’t bear to smile back.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, her eyebrows furrowing just slightly and Harry sighed, pulling her into his embrace, as he wrapped his arms around her, the covers haphazardly over them. Ginny smiled into his shoulder, and Harry, once again, couldn’t help but let his eyes flicker over to the place where he had seen her scars. Again, they had been covered, and he shut his eyes, letting his head rest against Ginny’s.

Somehow, he just couldn’t bear to ask.

…

The weeks after the war had been especially hard for the Weasleys. Even Harry, being a mere observer could see that. Every morning, as he got himself up and made his way to the table, it was plain visible that there was an absence. An absence that the Weasleys felt hard.

While George had resorted to making home at his shop, Percy kept him company while also making sure he remained alive. Bill and Charlie had left soon after the second week, helping at Hogwarts, at the bank, at Diagon Alley. So, that left the two youngest Weasleys taking care of the family. And it was clear that they were drowning.

It was after Harry had found Ginny lying motionless on her bed, tears falling from her eyes without sound when he offered they move into 12 Grimmauld Place. The months had passed quickly, very quickly after that. And right now, mid-November, what they had was everything they could have ever asked for. So, there they were now, Harry beating up four eggs for breakfast and Ginny furiously cleaning up the muck that the wind had blown in. Now that she was officially of age, the wand was at her leisure and in no time at all, she was gazing into the hot pan, where the eggs were cooking.

Harry smiled fondly at her, before looking away, chopping the bread up furiously. The incidents of the morning still played in his mind, as his knife thudded on the chopping board.

“You know I’d cook,” Ginny started, “but I’m afraid I could possibly set the house on fire.”

Harry chuckled, dropping the bread into the same pan.

“Kreacher would kill me,” she finished dramatically.

Ginny walked slowly over to where he was standing, and gently placed her hands over his. “That was your cue to tell me what’s wrong, you know,” she said, and Harry looked at her, taking note of the all too knowing look in her eyes.

But before he could say anything else, Ginny reached forward over the counter and turned off the gas, placing a lid over the pan in the process.

“It’s about the scars, isn’t it?” she said, looking away from his eyes.

Harry’s eyes flicked up in shock, and Ginny laughed softly. Her laugh seemed forced, and Harry couldn’t help but notice her sudden change in demeanour.

“I know you saw them this morning, Harry. So, if this is about them, it’s your cue to ask.”

“Why didn’t..,” Harry stopped himself. “What happened, Gin?”

Ginny remained silent, as Harry walked over to her, lifting her chin up until she looked into his eyes, brown to green.

“Like I said, Harry,” she began, “the past year was not exactly what I expected at Hogwarts.”

“You need to tell me something more than that Gin, please,” Harry begged. “What really happened to you, Gin?”

“They….,” Ginny sighed. “ You know what they did. They tortured us, Harry. They tortured us at every moment they got. It was like a sick sadistic pastime of theirs, because they knew it was the only way they could break us.”

She leaned on the counter, looking up at Harry. “I remember, there was a girl, a Muggleborn. It started with her, I think. Amanda Seyheir, she was called. The Carrows somehow learnt that she was one and they,” her voice broke. “They killed her.”

She closed her eyes, turning her head away from Harry. “I couldn’t save her Harry, and because I couldn’t save her, I had to save the rest of them.”

Harry remained where she was, because it was the way she was speaking that got to him. As if it was something that she had gotten used to saying, something she had become used to seeing.

He stepped forward, but he had no idea what he should have said.

“The Carrows….once they had no more Muggleborns to torture, they started with us. Neville, Luna…Luna, she escaped, we helped her to, what with everything her father wrote for the Quibbler and all. But the rest of us stayed.”

And Harry understood. What she was leaving out. Why, in those long months, she had never spoken about it.

“What did they do?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

“The usual,” she answered flippantly, but Harry could sense the slight tremor in her voice. “The Cruciatus mostly, hexes; they once went through a phase of using something called Serpent - “

“Serpentsortia,” Harry ended, his heart clenching in horror.

Ginny looked at him, her eyes having a far-away look in them. “Was that the one that Snape…Draco….”

“Yeah,” Harry admitted, his eyes blazing with anger. If he had known, if only. “Can I,” he asked hesitantly, “can I see them?”

Ginny looked away, her eyes blazing with emotion. “They’re not exactly something I’m proud of,” she said darkly, turning away from him.

Harry stepped forward towards her, then let his hands pull Ginny towards him, her back against his chest. Ginny let out a breath, and rested her head on him. As Harry touched her arms, he could feel a slight tremor going through them.

“I love you Gin,” he whispered. “I’ve got you. It’s going to be…,” Harry hesitated. “It’s going to be alright.”

…

False promises may be, but when Ginny entered the room that night, in nothing but a tank top for the first time in a long while, Harry let his eyes caress over her arms, over her scars that started from her neck and went all the way over her back.

Ginny shuddered as his fingers traced over the long jagged scar on her shoulder, the remains of a badly performed splinching hex.

“Do they hurt?”

“No,” Ginny replied. “It’s been a long while since they’ve hurted.”

She wouldn’t look at him, he noticed. So Harry gently cupped her face as he made her look into his eyes.

“Gin, those scars,” he said, “they mean you fought a battle you won. You told me that, remember?”

“We,” she said, her voice shaking. “We fought a losing battle for a very long while. You don’t realise Harry, but for eight months we heard nothing. Absolutely nothing. And every single day I woke up thinking it would be the day I heard the news you were dead. We,” her voice broke. “We didn’t think we’d survive.”

Harry’s heart clenched as he watched the woman who had been strong for both of them for so long crumble before his eyes.

“And the worst part of it was that,” her voice shuddering, “that every day I woke up thinking ‘again? I had to do this all over again? Had the world not had enough?’” She closed her eyes, then whispered. “And that’s why….I’m not proud of this Harry. I’m not.”

It was Harry who closed the dwindling space between them. Because he needed her to know that he loved her. With her scars. She had been strong for so long. He needed her to know that it was his turn now, if she’d let him.

“I love you as you are,” he said. “Exactly as you are.”

And as her tears started falling, it was Harry who held her close to him, making sure to wipe away the tears now and again.

And that was the way they spent the night, in each other’s arms, fully aware that a part of them were broken, but right now, they knew they could lean on the other to get through the storm.

…

So, as the quiet rustle of the leaves coloured in different shades of gold ceased, the soft white dust started falling on the upper side of them. Just like that, their world seemed to get slower. A little turbulent perhaps, like the icy cold wind that entered their house sometimes as the temperature dipped even lower, but hadn’t it been that way since the beginning?

They needed each other, Harry realised. Though a part of him had known this since the moment he had kissed her in their Common Room.

He still wakes up at night, riddled with nightmares.

Ginny’s the same, her horrors seeming to engulf her entire purpose at times.

They still pull each out of the water, keep each other afloat.

But there will be one day, Ginny says to him, when they’ll look at their scars and have a story to tell. It might not be now, but it will be.

He’ll love her forever, he tells her then. Ginny laughs, telling him forever’s longer than what they’ll live for.

But he doesn’t tell her that what they have is forever for him. So he’ll love her forever as long as he lives, their scars shining brighter every day.

And that’s the way it will always be.

...

#fanfiction #hinny #harry/ginny #hinny fanfiction #hurt/comfort #hinny after the war #post war hinny #ginny weasley #harry potter #romance #angst #angst with a happy ending #oneshot #hinny fic #request

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hinevra-blog · 1 year

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@hinnyfest day 4

Prompt--In the holyhead harpies locker room

Ginny was in the shower 🚿, in the holyhead harpies locker room, letting the water run through her body as she tried to gather herself after today's match.

It had been exhilarating, exhausting, exciting but not to forget her very best. She had broken records, she had broken the most goal scored by a chaser record. She was so emotional she though she might cry.

She flinched a little when the door to the shower opened but leaned back against his chest when she realized who it was.

Suddenly she couldn't hold it in anymore and turned around in his arms and cried her heart out.

Harry just held her close and whispered sweet words in her ears.

"I'm so proud of you Gin" he said "Teddy and Jamie are bragging to anyone who'll listen that you're their mum"

"It really happened didn't it, Harry?" Ginny looked upto him before burying her face in his neck.

"If you don't believe me, just try stepping out of this locker room" Harry said with a humorous lint in his voice.

Ginny grinned against his shoulder, already feeling better.

#hinny prompt #hinny headcanon #30daysprompts #ginny weasley #post war hinny #married hinny #james potter #hinnyedit #hinny fluff #quidditch #lily potter #hinnyfest

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that-was-a-bit-stupid-of-you · 2 years

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Disappointed how all of Harry and ginny's kids are named after dead people, cmon harry what's your obsession with the dead

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tansalvatore · 2 years

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Some part of Taylor songs I think hinny relates to : The way I loved you (tv) : “it’s 2a.m. and I’m cursing your name So in love that I acted insane and that’s the way I loved you…” -Both Harry and Ginny missing each other during DH, when Harry was on the horcrux hunt. “He’s close to my mother, talk business with my father He’s charming and endearing and I’m comfortable “ ⁃ I don’t need to explain it, I mean it’s Ginny’s pov. Back to December: “It turns out freedom ain't nothin' but missin' you Wishin' I'd realized what I had when you were mine I'd go back to December” -Harry and Ginny reminiscing about their relationship and missing every inch of it during DH iykyk “Drop everything now Meet me in the pouring rain Kiss me on the sidewalk Take away the pain 'Cause I see, sparks fly, whenever you smile” -two lovebirds in love fr Get me with those green eyes, baby As the lights go down Gimme something that'll haunt me when you're not around 'Cause I see, sparks fly, whenever you smile” -green eyes, yes. Ginny’s pov. ◦

#married hinny #ginny weasley #harry potter #hinny #harry james potter #harry x ginny #potterhead #hinny headcanon #ginevra weasley #post war hinny #lovers #hinny fluff #ginny potter #taylor swift

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thestralsofspinnersend · 2 years

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Of Changing Tides

London rumbled on beyond the poorly insulated flat window. Ceaseless tires tread through the gathering pools that eddied along the curb in the soft rain. Warmth, familiar in shape and the way it folded so safely around Harry, rolled away. The shared duvet lifted, allowing a rush of cool air to fill the newly vacant space between the two bodies. Errant strands of fiery hair irritated Harry’s nose in a routine way, and he wondered, as he did every time it happened, how Ginny’s hair managed to snake its way into the very fibres of their bedding. Sighing, he gave up on the flimsy hope of sleep, mind endless in its hopeless meandering.

Unthinkingly, his hand found its way to the nape of Ginny’s neck, a gentle reflex. She hummed and he could hear the smile that formed around the sound her throat made as his fingers gently rubbed the soft, vulnerable skin beneath her hair line.

He had loved her since he was so young. Still loved her, he corrected internally. Watching that love blossom and transform, change shape and rebuild itself into something new and carefully held, softened the hard edges of his mind.

As the quiet rise and fall of Ginny’s chest filled the darkness of the room and rhythmic push and pull of his fingers in her hair soothed his late night agitation he let his mind wander to the things kept neatly stacked in dark corners of his mind.

She had asked him, weeks prior, in the quiet of their room, feet tangled and fingers intertwined, “Are you sure you’re not gay?”

There had been no malediction or venom in the question, no accusation or even sadness. It was one of genuine curiosity, openness, and Harry could feel her kind eyes through the dark, her thumb rubbing gently over his knuckles.

Harry’s knee-jerk defensive, “no,” died in his throat and he had lain there, frozen, brain stuck, time suspended as he felt the rise and fall of Ginny’s chest next to his own.

Sure, he had known he liked men since a young age, and sure, he had always said if things didn’t work out with Ginny, he would date a man rather, but things were working out with Ginny, they always had.

“Are you unhappy?” Harry asked, in leu of answering her. Ginny took a moment to answer, hiking a leg up over his hips, and wrapping one arm around his chest. Warm. Familiar. The silence stretched on as she hummed thoughtfully, but the lull didn’t worry him. They’d always been able to hand one another their complexities and heavy silences, questions and worries without fear. It was one of the things that Harry loved about her so much.

“No,” she said simply, shrugging. “I’m not unhappy. I’m right where I want to be.”

“Me too,” Harry replied quickly, pulling her closer in a sudden rush of nerves. Kissing the top of her head. She smelled like neroli.

“But it’s not necessarily happiness I’m talking about,” she continued, looking up at him, “I know we make one another happy.”

“And we have good sex,” Harry offered with an edge of indignation.

She rolled her eyes, “that’s not what I’m talking about—“

“And we love each other—“

“Merlin, yes, Harry,” she groused with a laugh, , “that’s not under question here, shut up for a second—”

He snickered under his breath as she pushed herself to sit next to him, taking his hand in hers.

“We could do this forever and I’d love every second of it, without regrets, but I don’t think you would. And, I don’t think you allow yourself to think about life in any other way because you’re afraid that you’ll be betraying me if you do. You’re loyal to a fault. Your ride or die settings are pathological.”

Harry could feel the objection rising in his chest, his brows creasing. Ginny, sensing it, placed one hand on his chest in a soothing, placating gesture.

“I think you need to allow yourself to think about what the most fulfilled version of your life would be, and not worry about whether or not that includes me in it, or in what capacity.”

“Are you breaking up with me?” Harry asked, almost joking but not quite. Worry began to ghost up his spine.

“No,” She laughed, leaning down with a swift press of soft smiling lips, reassuring and kind. “I’m saying, I think you could be happier. And I love you enough to want the best for you, even if that means it’s not with me. I know we’ll always be in each other’s lives, that’s not what I’m questioning. I’m questioning in what capacity.”

And that had been the end of the conversation. They spoke of other things, and Ginny ran her fingers up and down Harry’s arm in the way that made his brain go soft and his eyes heavy and eventually they fell asleep, as they always did, wrapped up in one another, the safety of their history and familiarity.

But, the sentiment that Ginny had unearth had plagued him in the coming weeks. Turning over and over again.

Am I gay?

No, right?

No. He liked women. He liked all genders, right?

… no, right?

Now In the early hours of the morning, listening to the slow and rhythmic breathing of his best friend, Harry’s internal dialogue spilled out into the quiet evening, causing Ginny to jump.

“Why do you think I’m gay?” The words Tumbled out, much louder than he had intended them to.

She groaned, having clearly been comfortably asleep. She rolled over and buried her head in his armpit.

From the depths of his nightshirt he heard sleep heavy mumbling, “it’s a vibe,” she offered, most unhelpfully.

“Excuse me?” He demanded incredulously, dislodging her from where she was trying to fall back asleep on him.

She moaned irritatedly at his jostling, “its bedtime, Harry! Can’t we talk about this tomorrow?”

“No, man, you can’t just say I have a gay vibe and leave me hanging here!”

Ginny huffed, rallying herself from the edge of sleep and pushed herself up. Rubbing her eyes hard with the heel of her hand she spoke through a protracted yawn, “I see— the way you look at him.”

Guilt enveloped Harry from some shameful depths and the brief damning thought crossed his mind, that Ginny didn’t even have to say _who_, and yet he knew exactly of whom she spoke.

“I look at you that way, too.” He protested, almost forcefully.

She smiled, in a way that looked sad and endeared. “No,” she said simply, “you don’t.”

He huffed, goose bumps peppering his skin, feeling suddenly caught in the intensity of her unwavering and probing gaze.

“And— how, exactly, do I look at him?” He asked meekly, almost afraid of the answer.

“Like— like,” she huffed, moving her hand in that peculiar circular way she did when she couldn’t find the words she needed. “Like you’d follow him off of a cliff, or like you’d abandon everything and everyone if he asked you to pack up and go with him somewhere.”

“I would not!” He protested, his face feeling a bit hotter than he thought was necessary.

He could feel the incredulity of her deadpan stare before she snorted a laugh and said, “Florida.”

“That was one time!” He shouted, face now on fire, remembering the summer after Hogwarts when Draco Malfoy, full of exuberance and challenges had asked him on a whim if he would go with him on a road trip.

“To where?” Harry had asked, the option of refusing never once crossing his mind. They had taken a portkey to New York together before renting the cheapest Citi-golf they could find and driving for 26 hours straight to Miami eating nothing but crisps and energy drinks and screaming the same three mix tapes at the top of their lungs. They pulled into Miami Beach just in time to watch the sun rise before passing out and sleeping in a parking lot for 6 hours.

“Iceland?” Ginny’s smile widened.

Harry huffed, positively indignant now, the memory of their epic and poorly planned attempts at hiking through the wilderness of Iceland in summer, pouring out from the place he kept his most precious memories. It took them 9 days to do a 3 day hike and they cackled the entire way through, deciding at every possible turn to do it the muggle way, refusing to apparate even when they were down to their last bag of peanuts. It had been the most fun Harry had ever had up to that point, in his life.

“Belgium?” Ginny continued and Harry rolled over, yelling into his pillow.

“Stop!” embarrassing memories of being so drunk they couldn’t figure out how to climb the stairs at the rickety hostel Draco had booked for them still plagued him.

“Phu Quoc—”

“Okay! Enough!” Harry yelled, lunging at Ginny and covering her mouth with his hand, “we don’t talk about that, remember?”

Ginny had tossed her head back, full belly laughter ringing out into the dark room. She knew full well Harry didn’t like being reminded of the time Draco convinced him to go snorkelling even though he was terrified of the ocean and nearly drowned in a rip tide because he didn’t know how to swim with flippers. He had emerged from the waters panting and bedraggled like a wet cat, Draco resplendent in the sun, guffawing at Harry’s ineptitudes at sea.

“My point is—“ Ginny raised her voice over Harry’s attempts to silence her, jabbing her thumb into his armpit in a way that instantly rendered him useless, “that you respond to him in a way that you do with no one else, not even me. Remember that time I begged you to come with me on a weekend away one county over, and you said no, and not two days later, Draco asks you to help pick up potions ingredients in the other hemisphere and your bags were packed before you put your phone down?”

“You wanted me to go skydiving! I’m terrified of heights!”

“You also lived on a boat with him! For four months! You hate boats!”

Harry was pouting now, feeling like a bad partner, like he’d been caught in wrong doing. “I’m sorry, I should have gone with you on that trip.”

“I’m not looking for an apology, I’m not even upset about it, you would have hated it. Luna and I had way more fun without you.”

“Gee thanks,” Harry rolled his eyes.

“My point is,” she continued, tucking one of his wild curls behind his ears, “I don’t think you’ve ever allowed yourself to think of him, or anyone else for that matter, in any way that isn’t platonic, because of me.”

“Maybe,” Harry said, picking at the corner of their duvet, his thoughts acutely aware of the hidden spaces of his mind he never allowed himself to dwell on.

“Maybe,” Ginny agreed, smiling in a smug way that made Harry roll his eyes. He looked at her, with her oversized YetiFest1997 t-shirt she had stolen from Luna, messy hair, and felt a thrill of fear at losing the stability she had offered him for so long.

“Its okay.” She reassured, squeezing his hand. “Our friendship is more important than who we are or are not having sex with. Even if our romantic relationship changes, it won’t change the fact that I love you, and that I’ll always be here for you.”

“Thank you,” he mumbled, all other words seeming to escape him.

After a long silence, Ginny asked quietly, “are you going to talk to him?”

A thrill of fear and anxiety shot through Harry’s body, the thought of facing Draco, his cool demeanour and confidence, his kindness and intensity, forcing a meek, “no” from his throat.

Ginny smiled, in a painfully understanding way that made Harry almost annoyed at her.

“Maybe I want to talk to other blokes.” He offered, a hint of a challenge, desperately, and uncharacteristically wanting to talk about anyone other than Draco Malfoy.

“Yeah, okay, go ahead, Harry. Talk to other blokes. I give you full permission and my loving support to go out there and get wild with anyone you fancy, of any gender! Shall I make you an online dating profile?”

He was glaring at her now, his bluff thoroughly called.

“Yeah, exactly.” It drove Harry mad how smug and self assured she could be when she knew she was right.

“Just think about it, Harry. Maybe it’s not Draco and maybe gay isn’t the right label, but I think you’d definitely be happier in a more queer relationship. With someone who can support that side of you and understand it in a way that I can’t.”

Harry eventually lay back down with Ginny’s hand on the nape of his neck, soothing and familiar. Comforting. Something he had scarcely had much of in his life. Something he was deeply afraid to lose. And perhaps that was the crux of the matter. He was afraid. Afraid of this carefully built safety coming undone, afraid of change and uncertainty, afraid of facing the parts of himself that had been most carefully buried and stacked away, afraid of his own feelings and the feelings of others. Afraid of the word queer and the implications it might have on how he navigated the world, how it might change the relationships between himself and those he held closest.

He thought of Draco, of grey eyes and loud laughs, of strong hands and steely resolve, of the kindness and acceptance, of the banter and challenges. His mind crept to that dark corner where unseen things sat hidden from view, lumped together and crumpled in the folds of memories he’d rather forget.

For the first time in his life, Harry allowed himself the permission to explore the recesses of his own mind, unfold the unnamed thoughts and feel uncharted feelings left to moulder and gather dust.

He didn’t sleep the rest of the night, laid there on the cotton sheets as clouds parted with the first rays of morning light spilling into the room. The frequency of cars through the puddles below had increased and birds had long begun their morning sonnets as Harry, newly awash in the possibilities of his queerness, sat up and thought that perhaps, it was an excellent morning to harass his favourite Slytherin.

#harry potter #drarry #oneshot #fanfic #fan fic #draco malfoy #drarry is cannon #fan fiction #hp #drarry squad #ginny weasley #post war hinny #friends to lovers to platonic bffs #enemies to friends to lovers #post war

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norakelly · 1 year

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Harry potter never grasped what he truly missed, until he had his own family.

The adorable giggles of his daughter as she tip toes across the wooden floor to jump in her parent's bed. Ginny in her towel wrapped hair, who reads Teddy’s letter from Hogwarts out loud, making Harry miss his godson more. The Loud and enthusiastic laugh of James' in the morning table as he tries to convince them to get a pet dragon. (A big fan of Charlie he was:)) Quiet and rare remarks of Al. Mostly over his favorite books, and maybe even about the Daily Prophet, (A habit he started very recently, which was not a shock to the family although he was five) where he’d read his mother’s name out loud whenever it appeared. Harry couldn’t quite yet comprehend how he, who woke up to the war being his concern, is now being awakened by tiny little hands who simply wants a breakfast. He beams proudly at them, and with a sense of gratitude for making those million thoughts that used to invade his mind fade away.

He was finally, home.

#hinny #harry potter #ginny potter #ginny weasley #james sirius potter #albus severus potter #lily luna potter #teddy lupin #harry and ginny #harry james potter #hinny fanfic #im not a good writer but idk #hope this is ok #pls comment if it is #im writing after a long long time #hinny drabble #post war #post dh

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startanewdream · 1 year

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For @hinnyfest, prompt #2: "I did something bad..."

***

There was a handkerchief on Ginny's hand so twisted that it reminded Harry of a rope. He paused behind her, hands searching for the knots in her neck that were usually enough to calm her; but Ginny jumped, face blushing at the sight of him.

"Hey."

"Hey there." He sat next to her, gently taking the handkerchief out of her hands. "Oh, I liked this one."

"We can iron it later," said Ginny, sounding guilty.

"It's just a handkerchief—why do you look like you've just waken up a basilisk?"

She blinked. "What?"

"It's just—I think the last time I saw you so nervous you were about to tell Ron and I about the Chamber."

"Oh, no." She rolled her eyes. "Nothing as grave—not criminally, at least. Unless we are counting the murder of my dignity." He waited. Ginny bit her lip. "I did something bad."

Harry nodded. "We can hide the body."

"What?"

"I know you—if you murdered someone, they probably deserved it. Better not confess to an Auror next time, though."

Ginny laughed, some tension leaving her shoulders. "It's not grave, remember? I'm just—embarrassed, that's it."

"Embarrassed as you sending a dwarf to sing a Valentine's card?"

"Embarrassed as I might hex my fiance if he keeps making fun of me." Her words were threatening, but Ginny was smiling again. "And that would look extremely embarrassing for you, Mr. Auror."

Harry pretended to zip off his mouth. Ginny got closer, allowing for him to place his arms around her shoulders and bring her closer.

"Embarassed as do you remember before the Battle, when you needed to go to the Ravenclaw Common Room and I insisted that Luna should go with you, instead of Cho Chang?"

It took a moment for Harry to recollect the exact memory. "Oh, yeah. You sounded fierce, very protective."

"I sounded stupid," she disagreed. "We were at the edge of the war, Voldemort was coming and I got jealous. But I thought—hey, I was young and naive. I wouldn't do that again."

"But then—"

She sighed. "Then we were at the Leaky Cauldron tonight and Cho showed up for our meeting, I wasn't expecting and—and I told her we are engaged."

"Oh." Harry blinked, confused. "That isn't a crime."

But Ginny shook her head. "I haven't even told most of my friends yet, and then—ugh, why do I still feel like a teenage girl unsure of everything around her?"

"I have no idea." He placed a kiss on her forehead, eyes closing when the smell of her shampoo overwhelmed him. "If anyone should be self-assured and arrogant, it should be you. You—you are perfect."

She laughed, not taking him seriously. "I'm not. I'm—it's pathetic, actually."

Harry twisted the handkerchief. "If it helps—when we were discussing the guest list, I almost asked you not to invite Dean."

"What?"

"Yeah, I know. And worse—I wanted to include Viktor Krum in the list."

"Viktor Krum? Other than annoying Ron, I don't see—"

"He was attracted to you."

"I don't remember meeting Krum—"

"Bill and Fleur's wedding." Harry fought an urge to hide his face. "We were sharing a table, he didn't know who I was, and then he asked if you were seeing anyone because you were very good-looking. And I said you were, a jealous type, big guy, one he wouldn't want to mess with."

Ginny blinked. Twice. And then a grin took control of her face as she moved to give him a kiss that Harry wasn't sure he deserve, but he wouldn't complain ever.

"Jealous type, ugh?" she teased when they broke apart. "I can see we are perfectly matched."

#Hinny #Hinnyfest #post war Hinny #prompt 2: i did something bad...#tell me what you think :)

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tomjamesavery · 23 days

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A Night at the Club (Part One) Written for the Ginnyversary Bingo Challenge: #G57 — “But this is the only thing that's made the last three years bearable." Read on: AO3 Harry felt truly alive as the club's speakers blasted deafening music in his ears, the floor shaking under the heavy bass. It was one am on a Saturday evening, Ron, Seamus, and Dean had managed to convince him to accompany them to a newly opened nightclub in central London. And he had happily accepted since days like these were the only thing that had made the last three years bearable. Harry normally wasn’t the going out type, if he did, he preferred it to be with his close mates, so they at least had a good time.

And tonight they were having one hell of a good time. The bright lights flashed, red interchanging with purple, and Harry felt like he was gliding, his feet wildly moving on their own accord. He was slightly tipsy, which made his movements a bit sluggish, but his senses were still sharp, his mind clear and wary.

His eyes scanned the club, he was on the dance floor, Ron not too far from him, a glass of bright red liquid in his right hand, as he was dancing with a blonde girl Harry didn’t know, his left hand up in the air. He was clearly enjoying himself, Harry knew that he was still pining after Hermione, but she would come around one day, Harry was sure of that, so right now the light distraction was good for his best mate.

He found Seamus and Dean madly snogging in a corner of the Club and only shook his head, unable to hide the smile crossing his features, those two… they just couldn’t keep their hands off each other no matter where they were, it was adorable.

Harry was abruptly thrown from his thoughts as an obviously drunk bloke crashed into him, almost making him tumble. He just about caught himself, swiftly spinning around to face the man, but the guy had already disappeared into the crowd of dancing people again. Harry only shook his head, taking a long swig from his beer, and the room lit up as he felt the cool liquid breathe more life into him. His eyes now wide open he fell back into the rhythm of the blaring music, resonating with the quick beat of the pop-hip hop track. He hadn’t expected how much he needed this.

He danced on his own, not caring how he looked to the others, simply closing his eyes as he lifted his hands high, breathing in the vibe around him, this was his night, something about this evening was special. He listened to his heart as it seemingly beat to the sound of the music around him.

A strange heat surrounded him, he was the centre of the world, floating through open space, as suddenly an electric current shot through him, now feeling goose flesh on his skin his eyes snapped open. And he was blinded.

A burning flame before him, a thousand shades of red, brighter than the sun on a summer day. The club, the people, the lights were gone, it was only her. She had her eyes closed, as she moved with the music, a mere two inches from him, a short green dress framing her body perfectly, her skin flushed and glistening from the heat of the air.

His mind was blank as he watched her, and his body took over. She was dancing with him, no one else near them. And he fell into her pull, her every step, every move resonating through him. Her energy controlled him, and as she opened those eyes of deep brown, long lashes framing the almond shapes, they moved closer, swinging their bodies in uni-sense, slow circles, the world was folded around the two of them. This was their night, their moment.

Her lips curled mischievously, the deep brown orbs disappearing behind dark cloaks again as her hands came up to his, slowly moving over his arms, the sensation of her touch making him levitate. He felt her heartbeat, as his eyes fell shut as well. Beats in quick succession, speeding up with the sound of the music that moved the two of them. He felt her hip on his as her hands landed on his shoulders, he was hers.

A quick spin, swift steps, and he was clutching her waist, feeling her hot breath on his chest. They continued to dance, as he felt the soft fabric of her dress under his palms, endless moments of bliss, they yearned for each other, bodies moving closer. Her hands now tightly clutching the shirt on his back, he felt her nails on his back and it made his skin burn in desire.

They moved like this for many minutes, it might have been hours, and Harry felt like he had known this woman for his entire life, this connection between them, it was like his soul yearned for hers, his body living on her warmth. He finally decided to open his eyes again, the club now lit brightly, he took in her blinding beauty, that hair so red, the wildest forest fire could not compare, those freckles on her milky skin, those long lashes.

His mouth went dry, and his movements slowed down, she already was his everything. She must’ve felt something change with him, and her eyes snapped open, brown pools of chocolate. But suddenly her lips parted, surprise crossing her flushed face.

“Harry?”

#hinny #harry potter fanfiction #ginny weasley #harry potter #harry x ginny #ginny lovers #fluff #nightclub #post war hinny

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carolinelayne · 3 months

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Can I Hug You?

Summary: Harry and Ginny reunite in the Great Hall after the Battle of Hogwarts. Mini One-Shot.

…

The Great Hall was crowded, but all Harry could see was Ginny standing before him. She looked up to him, her light brown eyes filled with tears.

“I thought I’d never see you again.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but found he couldn’t. There was too much he wanted to say to her, so much he wanted to express… but no words came out.

She moved towards him gingerly, as if not believing he was truly there. She spoke in a soft whisper.

“Oh Harry... I thought you were dead.”

Every pair of eyes in the Great Hall were on him and he didn’t notice… it was like that moment where they kissed for the first time in the Gryffindor common room, a lifetime ago. The restless hall faded; the entire world went with it. All he could see was her... There was nobody else. There was never anybody else.

He needed her touch, to know that she was real, to know that she wasn’t going to be ripped away from him. He finally found the words he wanted to say.

“Gin… can I hug you?”

Ginny blinked, and gave him the ghost of a small smile.

“You don’t have to ask Harry. I’m always going to say yes.”

He felt a blush creep to his face, but it was comfortable and warm. It reminded him that he was still very much alive.

And so he pulled her into his arms. Harry held onto her so tightly, burying his head into her hair that still smelled so sweet. He never wanted to let her go. This embrace was the safest he could ever remember feeling.

He never wanted this moment to end, never wanted her to be away from him again, and yet he heard himself saying...

“You can always change your mind Gin.”

Ginny pulled away just enough to gaze up at him. Her eyes were filled with tears, and yet her look was burning. They both very well knew what he was talking about.

“It’s a lot,” he started. “I’m a lot. He’s gone, but it’ll always be… I’ll always be–”

Ginny put her hand gently over his mouth, and Harry felt the hairs raise on the back of his neck.

“I’m never changing my mind. Not ever.”

With this, Harry thought inexplicably of the moments before he thought his life was going to end, how his very last thoughts were of kissing the girl in front of him. Harry wanted so many things now that he had the rest of his life to live… and they could all be consolidated down to one person. Ginny.

“Me neither.” And without worrying about the fact that fifty people were watching, Harry kissed her. That's how it always was.

#harry potter #ginny weasley #harry x ginny #ginny potter #hinny #hinnymicrofic #hinny fanfic #hinny fluff #hinny headcanon #post war #harry potter fanfiction #hinny oneshot #deathly hallows #harry potter and the deathly hallows #battle of hogwarts

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harryandginnydeservesbetter · 1 year

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Ginny : An octopus is just a wet spider

Hermione : I hate you

Harry : No, no but it's accurate

#harry potter #harry potter fandom #hermione granger #ron weasley #ginny weasley #harry james potter #harry james potter incorrect quotes #harry j potter #hermione jean granger #ginnymollyweasley #ginny molly weasley #married hinny #post war hinny #hinny funny #hinny incorrect quotes #hinny #hinny headcanon

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blinkngone · 10 months

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light years.

Silence resides like an unwelcome guest in the Burrow. On the days he doesn’t go to the Ministry, Harry mostly sits at the table in the Burrow’s kitchen, picking the skin on his lips. New post-war commodity at the Burrow: dirty dishes populating the a sink that has always been spic and span. A glass of water on the table that he never drinks. Harry Potter, saviour of the Wizarding World, rotting in the kitchen of a crooked, sun-bathed house. Out of the corner of his eyes, past the kitchen window, there is a blur of red and ivory. Sometimes he watches this blur flit back and forth between the frame of the window, sometimes he puts his head on the table, closes his eyes. Wills himself to remember her skin on his, the smell of her on his jaws. She feels a lifetime away. Centuries pass before he lifts his head back up again. The slant of the sun lengthens on the table. Near the edge, G.W is inscribed on the wood, below it, the initials of her brothers. These words belong to another time, when pain came from breaking elbows in the yard, gnome biting their toes, bee stings from the hives sticking to the trees. These days, pain comes from things they shouldn’t have even experienced.

“Your childhood was robbed from you,” Kingsley told Harry one time when they were repairing the greenhouses at Hogwarts. Amid the havoc of the war, green plants shot up regardless.

So much more than just his childhood was robbed from him, Harry wanted to tell the Minister. His life was almost snatched from him. His future, his people, all the love he could’ve had. He didn’t say anything, just shrugged. After, as he stood near the lake smoking a cigarette, squirrels scampered away from him. Like they knew this life he had, was more tinted with death than any eighteen year old life should be.

Now, the sounds from outside populate the silence of the Burrow. With Ron and Hermione in Australia, Mrs. Weasley at the Shell Cottage, and the others at the Ministry, the house seems to be an extension of the aching loneliness he feels. Lately, he is consumed by the need to do something, anything except attend hearings at the Ministry and helping at Hogwarts. There is a constant restlessness between his ribs. In bed sometimes, he cannot feel his body anymore, feels like he is becoming more and more unmoored from this plane of existence. In the bathroom that mostly smells of shampoo that Mrs. Weasley makes from the flowers from the Burrow’s orchard, he looks at the reflection in the cracked mirror above the sink, and is unable to locate himself.

Ginny, he observes, embodies his restlessness. She is wild that summer, Ginny. He sees it. She prowls around the Burrow at night, lithe and haunting. A ghost. In daylight, she is as fleeting as an afterthought. She is gone before he’s up, and thinks no one notices how she is beginning to disappear, parts of her falling off and getting lost. Untended grief settling in those empty spaces. Harry becomes increasingly concerned, but no one has taught him how to prevent another person from disappearing into darkness. Framed in the window of his room in the attic, he too, looks ghastly. If it weren’t for the throb of pain in his open wounds, the sting of summer on his red burns, he wouldn’t be able to tell if he were human, Harry thinks.

He remembers their days at Hogwarts, how she’d demand he sit against the trees and watch her fly. Eyes glinting, and a wicked grin on her face, she’d deftly braid her hair into a plait. Broom between her legs, she’d say, “Top this, Potter.”

And he watched, because how could he not. After everything he’d seen in his sixteen years of life, she was a miracle. Later, he’d unbraid her hair, lips on the column of her neck, tasting the wind on her skin.

These days, the only forms of interaction between them are: their dirty cups stacked on top of each other, strands of hair she sometimes leaves in the bathroom sink, her clothes and his tangled in the laundry hamper.

It happens on an ordinary afternoon. He stops a few feet away from the Burrow, near the chicken coup to smoke a cigarette. Today, he met Kingsley at the Ministry. He offered Harry a spot in the Auror Department.

They sat opposite each other at the table in the Minister of Magic’s office. He told the Minister, “I have to think about it.”

“Yes, Harry. Take your time. Maybe wait till Ron and Hermione are back.”

“Ron and Hermione, yeah,” he said. It dawned on him that he’d never taken an important decision without them by his side. He was so wholly inadequate without the two of them.

The birds chirp in the orchard now, the breeze heavy with humidity. Dragonflies buzz over his head. Hermione once told him, when she was little, she’d look out the window of her bedroom in the hopes of seeing dragonflies.

“Dragonflies mean heavy rain!” her Mum used to tell her. In his last letter, Ron wrote Mrs. Granger’s memory was proving difficult to be restored. She was still unable to remember Hermione.

It sure feels like heavy rain today. He blows the smoke out, slowly. Taps his finger against the cigarette and watches the column of ash fall away.

“What’s that?”

He turns around to see Ginny, broom against her hip, standing where the orchard gives away to tall and wide grass blades. Her voice sounds different, rusty from the lack of use.

“Cigarette,” he tells her.

“What?”

“Muggle shit.”

She just lifts her eyebrows, her mouth perched on the brink of laughter. Her hair is wild, sweat shining on her face. For a few seconds they look at each other. He is afraid to look away.

“Want to try?” he asks her.

She shrugs and steps forward. He covers the distance between them in three long strides.

The floating foliage of the leaves makes shadow patterns on their bodies. The sunlight feels old, slightly muted. She he likes the way the yellow light catches the tiny hairs on his arms, bringing out the dark butterscotch of his emerald pupils, makes his face look unbelievably beautiful. They pass a cigarette back and forth, the both of them lying on a patch of asymmetrical sunlight, the dew from the grass wetting the back of their thin shirts. He blows the smoke from the corner of his mouth, so that the left side of his face disappears momentarily in this white smoke, then reappears in the very next instant. She can smell the scent of her own hair, like wildflowers, and wishes he smells it, too, over the smell of his cigarette.

He doesn't speak much, nor does she. But his lingering looks burn into her skin, make her feel more than a wound that won’t scab, not even at the edges. Yesterday she took him to the pond, and they sat near the edge, with their feet in the water. Green weeds curled around their calves. Their shoulders were touching.

He said, “I thought about you, a lot. You know, when I was away.”

She blinked at him and wondered if it was too early to tell him about hurting in his dorm, seeing his face every time they shot a Cruciatus at her, willing to die than divulge any information that might be used against him.

“Oh.” She touched her chest with her palm. She looked out at the pond, listened to the croaking of the frogs on the green pads of leaves bigger than the sun in the sky. She wanted to give him her heart, knew he’d cradle it in his rough palms delicately, with the kind of tenderness that touches you once in twelve million light years.

“I stole your jumper,” she told him. “Wore it to bed.” Every night.

She turned to look at him the same moment he looked away. She caught the shy upturn of his smile sideways, for a fleeting moment, and revelled in it for the entire night.

She turns to him now, props herself on her elbows. He looks up at her. There are a million things she wants to tell him. The most important of which, perhaps, is that she loves him. Wants them to heal together.

“Harry.”

He stubs his cigarette in one quick motion. The contours of his lips, the wetness of his tongue are painfully familiar. Beautifully so.

#harrypotter #harryxginny #hinny #hp #hinny headcanon #fic #dh #post war #angst

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