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saintsenara · 9 months

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happy birthday ginny, here's a fic with you and both of your dark-haired orphan simps.

Nerve

When she was five, Auntie Muriel had given her as a birthday present a small china figurine of a cow.

And, since she was five, and all she wanted to do was ride brooms and fall out of trees and throw gnomes at Percy, she had laughed derisively the second she opened the gift and called it ‘a bit rubbish’.

Mum had been furious, and the telling-off Ginny had received - as Muriel stormed out of the house with her nose in the air, ‘Weasley children are ungrateful whelps, the lot of them’ ringing around the Burrow - had managed to impress upon her an important lesson: no matter how shit a present is, pretend you like it.

---

- and Percy got a brand new owl when he was made a prefect, and that happened the day before I turned ten, but I didn’t get anything new that day, it was all second hand. Except my Auntie Muriel gave me a box of drawing pins. But who wants a thing like that?

That sounds ghastly.

It was! Obviously I wasn’t rude. I just -

I know it sounds really silly, but I just want my own things. I want to be special. I want everyone to notice me. Nobody notices me.

That doesn’t sound silly at all.

You’re sweet :)

---

The lesson had held for ten years. It was fracturing today, as she turned fifteen and unwrapped Fleur’s gift to her - presented with a beatific, ‘I ‘ope you will like ‘ow it stops you being so - ‘ow you say - disorganised’ - and saw the embossed scarlet leather cover, her initials on it in gold, of an extremely beautiful and obviously stupendously expensive diary.

‘Oh,’ said Ginny.

Fleur seemed happy enough with that, leaning into Bill’s arm - wrapped around her shoulders - with a contented (read: smug) look on her face. Harry and Ron were both shovelling birthday cake into their mouths, but Hermione was looking at her with the sort of stricken, wobbly expression which made Ginny nervous.

‘Cheers. It’s great,’ she said to Fleur, in an effort to communicate to Hermione that she needed to keep fucking quiet and not bring up my previous diary-related fuck-ups at the dinner table. Fortunately she got the hint, although Ginny knew there’d be plenty of whispered nagging about whether she’d ‘properly dealt with everything’ later.

But she couldn’t help staring at Bill, as if to say, ‘thanks for not spilling my most embarrassing secret during your pillow talk’ and ‘hey, you know how there’s a war on? Maybe you should tell your fiancée that your sister was fucking possessed by You-Know-Who for a full year, so she knows exactly what sort of mess she’s getting into.’

He just looked at his cake instead.

---

- and I told mum I didn’t want a victoria sponge cake. But she made one anyway, because it’s dad’s favourite. But it was my birthday. I wanted a chocolate cake.

Does that make me sound really spoiled?

It does, doesn’t it?

What kind of birthday cakes did you have, when you were my age?

I have never had a birthday cake.

WHAT?

How???

I was born in an orphanage. That’s a Muggle institution for children whose parents are dead. There was hardly enough to go around normally. Birthdays were out of the question.

Oh.

I’m sorry.

I survived.

Harry’s an orphan as well.

Is he indeed?

---

‘I’m so sorry,’ said Hermione later, bustling around Ginny’s room brandishing a hairbrush like a wand. ‘The nerve of her! She had no right to do something like that.’

‘She didn’t know.’

‘But Bill should have told her.’

‘Yeah. Maybe.’

Hermione sat on the end of Ginny’s bed and looked at her earnestly. ‘You can say if you’re upset, you know.’

‘It’s fine.’

‘I mean, I’ve never thought you’ve ever properly dealt with everything, and I -’

‘I said it’s fine, Hermione. For fuck’s sake, give it a rest.’

---

Hermione was still in a mood the following morning.

The diary sat on Ginny’s bedside table, the cover shimmering softly at her.

‘I suppose the colour was meant to be nice - Gryffindor, you know - but it’s just ended up being another cruelty,’ sniffed Hermione, when she’d decided she was no longer angry with Ginny and she ought to have another go at nagging her about her life.

‘What d’you mean?’ said Ginny, round a mouthful of chocolate frog.

Hermione looked at her as if she was as dumb as Goyle. (Ginny could see why quite a few people didn’t like her). ‘Well, it’s like his eyes. Isn’t it?’

She looked so convinced she was onto something that Ginny didn’t have the heart to tell her that her him had eyes the same polished tortoiseshell brown as Hermione’s own.

---

I could make him a valentine’s card, couldn’t I?

You could.

I could say he has nice eyes. He does have nice eyes.

So you’ve said.

They’re very green. I could say that. ‘You have very green eyes.’

That’s not very romantic, is it?

I could say, ‘you have eyes so green they’re like…’

I dunno.

A fresh pickled toad.

Or an emerald.

Pick the emerald.

I like the toad.

Pick the emerald.

They aren’t emerald green, though. They’re fresh pickled toad green.

I just think -

I’m going to say that his eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad.

Or do you think he’d hate that?

I think you should say his eyes are like emeralds.

He will hate it, won’t he?

Would it matter if he did?

YES.

Picture me rolling my eyes.

Tom. I’d DIE.

Imagine if he laughed at it.

And if he didn’t?

That isn’t possible.

Ginny.

Anything is possible if you’ve got enough nerve.

---

She dropped a blob of ink onto the page and waited for the inevitable.

She realised she had been staring at it for hours when mum called her down for dinner.

---

She could never have explained to the other three why nothing happening was as much of a disappointment as a relief.

They were bound together so tightly you’d have thought they were one-and-the-same. It didn’t seem to occur to them that their friendship was abnormal. Or, maybe, that hers were. That, maybe, it isn’t normal for a fifteen-year-old to not see her boyfriend all summer, or not to have friends visit, or not to Floo off for house-parties and trips to Diagon Alley. That, maybe, her position in a clique of ‘popular’ girls was tenuous, something light and meaningless and easily discarded.

That, maybe, the best friend she’d ever had was a piece of disembodied soul which had very nearly succeeded in killing her.

---

I don’t think anyone understands me like you.

You’re my best friend in the whole world :)

I’m delighted to hear that. The feeling is mutual.

Now. I need you to do me a favour.

Anything :)

You will walk down to the gamekeeper’s hut.

I will walk down to the gamekeeper’s hut.

---

‘I don’t think Harry will get back together with Cho,’ said Hermione one evening.

Ginny snorted. ‘Yeah, obviously. He fucked that right up.’

‘Dean’s nice.’

Ginny tried to ignore the jittery feeling in her stomach. ‘Yeah. Yeah, he’s brill.’

Fortunately Hermione was already yawning into her pillow. ‘Did you have a nice birthday, by the way?’

‘Yeah.’

There was a brightly-coloured bang from outside.

Hermione jumped up, brandishing her wand. ‘What on earth was that?’

---

I wish I was with mum and dad for Christmas. On New Year’s Eve we always have hot chocolate and watch the fireworks from the village. You can see them really well from our garden.

I spent all evening crying. And now I can’t sleep.

Are you awake?

Is it New Year’s Eve today?

Yes.

Ah.

It doesn’t feel very festive though.

Go to the North Tower, and - just before the Divination classroom - you will see a painting of three house elves wearing a trench coat. Poke the middle one on the nose and the painting will swing open to reveal a window. Climb through the window and you will find yourself on a flat bit of roof, with an uninterrupted view towards Hogsmeade. At midnight, there will be fireworks to celebrate the new year.

But there will be nobody else around, and they will feel as though they are for you.

---

‘Relax, Hermione. It’s just someone letting off fireworks.’

‘God. I thought it was the Dark Mark or something. Honestly, who lets off fireworks in the middle of August?’

‘You never know. Maybe they’re for me.’

#asenora fics #birthday fic #ginny weasley #happy birthday babe #you share a birthday with my cat #so i suppose we have to stan

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jiilys · 2 years

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“Where’ve you been?” Ginny demanded, leaning against outside the cottage holding a cigarette, hair shifting in the wind.

“Sorry, briefing ran forever.”

“You are not forgiven.”

He eyed the cigarette, “What are you doing out here?”

“Everyone thought I should come out here to make sure you wouldn’t get lost.”

Harry, who had been to Bill and Fleur’s a hundred times and memorably hidden during the quite-recent war, gave her a look. “What did you do?”

“It’s hell in there.”

“It can’t be that bad.”

“Three people have asked me when our baby’s due”

“What?”

“Apparently all of Fleur’s friend’s read the prophet, and there was that bit about me being pregnant last week. Everyone’s taken it to heart.” Ginny looked at him, took a drag, “Don’t worry, I said you weren’t the father.”

Harry couldn’t help laughing, “Bet your mother loved that.”

“That was around the time I was asked to come see where you were.”

“You are not making me excited to go in there.”

“Oh please, you’ll be fine, they all love you. Chosen one.”

“Yeah, but I can’t keep coasting on that forever.”

“True,” Ginny sighed, “but at least right now it’s working for you. If I was pregnant at least I’d have something to say to Fleur’s mother”

“You make me so nervous.”

Ginny grinned, flash of teeth, “I bet. How was the briefing?”

“Boring, wished I was here, actually.”

“Freak.”

“Yeah, but mainly to meet the guy you’re having this kid with.”

Grinned again, “You just missed him. He got here early, actually, Helped set up the gift table and everything.”

“Wow, maybe you should start going out with him”

“Eh, can’t” she hit ash over onto the concrete, eyes rolling “I’ve been mad on the same guy for ages”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Right git. Late to everything.”

He grinned, the middle of him glowing. “Ginny!” Mrs Weasley’s voice, still not Molly after all this time, coming from the hallway. Ginny threw the cigarette on the ground and crushed it with her foot in half a second. The doorway was suddenly full of Mrs Weasley, with one of Fleur’s friends in tow, “Honestly wher– Oh, Harry!”

Seeing an ember out of the corner of his eye, Harry covered it with his shoe. “Hi.”

“When did you get here! Come in, come in!” She bustled over to them, “Why does it smell like smoke out here?”

“Oh, Harry just came back from slaying a dragon,” Ginny said casually, and Fleur’s friend looked around, alarmed. Harry, luminous, rubbed his upper lip but couldn’t hide the laugh.

#happy birthday to this boy for tomorrow! i love you more than i can say. ultimate superstar #harry potter #ginny weasley #hinny fic #carolineswritingtag #harry potters birthday?? national holiday. ginny makes a horrible cake and then throws it in the bin and just gives him a biscuit packet #also yes ginny weasley smokes cigerettes ok how else did she get through that final hogwarts year #looking sexy behind the greenhouses and talking about killing facisits. goddess!#also fuck jkr lmao but happy birthday harry thanks for raising us

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the-al-chemist · 1 year

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The Smallest Victory

A/N: today was Artemis’ 50th birthday, and to celebrate I decided to publish the story of her 27th birthday, and someone else’s birth. It also fits the theme of @hp-12monthsofmagic: Victory! Hope you enjoy. Warnings: mentions of childbirth and war.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been more bored in my life.”

Charlie looked up from the copy of Which Broomstick? that he was currently thumbing through and regarded Artemis from the corner of his eye.

“You could still go out,” he said. “Chiara or Penny might still be free.”

“Penny won’t be able to get a babysitter at this short notice, and Chiara’s working here tonight. She might even be with Fleur,” Artemis exhaled heavily, blowing a stray strand of hair away from her face. “No. I’ll stay here. I should stay here. I just didn’t think there’d be this much waiting, that’s all. Do you reckon it’ll be much longer?”

“I dunno, Artie. I’ve never had a baby before. I don’t know how long it takes.”

“Ages, apparently.”

Artemis let out another huff of air, and slumped against the back of her seat with her arms crossed, one foot tapping impatiently. Charlie closed his magazine.

“I’m sorry,” he told her.

“Why? You’re not the one having a baby.”

“I know, but this wasn’t how you wanted to spend your birthday.”

That was true. Artemis had intended to spend her birthday at Bill and Fleur Weasley’s cottage in Cornwall, with sand and sea and a crackling bonfire. Unfortunately, her best laid plans had been scuppered earlier that evening by the arrival of a lion-shape Patronus, which had spoken with Bill’s voice and informed her that his wife had gone into labour, and that the pair of them were about to go to the hospital. Both she and Charlie had also gone straight to St Mungo’s hospital, where they had taken seats in the waiting room and waited. And waited. And were still waiting, even now.

“It’s fine, Charlie,” she said. “I mean, I’ve had worse birthdays.”

Another truth, albeit an unpleasant one. The previous two years, her birthday had been overshadowed by the battle that had taken so many lives, including those of her friend Tonks and Bill and Charlie’s younger brother Fred. The battle had broken out in the evening of her twenty-fifth birthday, and her twenty-sixth then became the first anniversary of the event.

This year, though she would turn twenty-seven on the eve of the victory and memorial, the fact seemed to linger less heavily on her mind now that yet another year had passed. Still, at her words, Charlie’s jaw tensed slightly. Artemis shook her head and unfolded her arms, guilty that she had accidentally caused harm.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t…”

Before Artemis could continue further, the doors of the waiting room swung open, revealing a middle-aged couple, a tall wizard with glasses and a plump witch in a knitted poncho, both with red hair; Bill and Charlie’s parents. Behind them trailed a much younger witch with a face almost as freckled as Charlie’s and her hair - also red - pulled up into a messy bun: their youngest child and Charlie’s only sister, Ginny.

“Oh, you’re here already,” said Charlie’s mother, her cheeks flushed pink with excitement. “Any news?”

“None yet.”

“Oh, well. These things can take time.”

“Don’t we know it,” Artemis muttered. Mrs Weasley turned to her, beaming.

“And happy birthday, Artemis, dear,” she said. She removed her bag from her shoulder and pulled out a box of small triangular sandwiches. “Your present is at home, but I thought there was no point in the party food going to waste. Unless you had dinner before you came here?”

Artemis took the box of sandwiches from Mrs Weasley’s hands and wrenched it open. “No, I’m starving. Thanks.”

“Neither of us had time to eat anything,” Charlie explained, also helping himself to a sandwich. “We both came straight here after Bill sent his Patronus.”

“Really? But that was almost three hours ago!” Mrs Weasley shook her head. “I don’t know why you rushed. The baby was unlikely to arrive before now.”

“But it should come soon now that you’re here, right?”

“Maybe. Could be in the next half an hour-”

“Thank Godric,” said Artemis.

“- or it might be another three hours.”

“What?”

“Or longer, who knows?” Apparently oblivious to the look on Artemis’ face, Mrs Weasley clapped her hands together. “Oh, it’s so exciting, isn’t it? Now, where did they take Bill and Fleur? We should make sure they have eaten something, the food here is terrible, after all.”

Once she had been told where to go, Mrs Weasley and her set off to deliver refeshments - presumably more sandwiches - to their eldest son and his wife. Ginny Weasley remained in the waiting room, flumping herself down in the chair on the other side of Charlie, who had returned his attention to his magazine. Ginny leaned forward to talk across him.

“Do you think she’s done it on purpose?” she asked Artemis, who frowned.

“What? Who?”

“Fleur, obviously,” Ginny shrugged and raised her eyebrows. “I mean the baby wasn’t meant to be here for another two weeks, and now it’s coming on your birthday, when she was supposed to be having everyone over.”

“So, you think she’s having a baby to get out of having people over for dinner?” Artemis asked. Beside her, Charlie gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head, still looking determinedly at his open magazine.

“Maybe,” said Ginny. “And it’s just the sort of thing she’d do, isn’t it? Steal your thunder by having a baby on your birthday.”

“No, she wouldn’t… She… I mean, could she?”

Artemis directed her question at Charlie, who did not even lift his head to look at her as he answered:

“I really don’t think that’s how it works.”

Ginny clearly thought otherwise, for she mouthed ‘I bet she did’ at Artemis before leaning back in her seat so that she was out of sight. As Mr and Mrs Weasley returned from seeing Bill and Fleur, Artemis returned to her sandwiches. She was still bored, but now that she was being fed, she at least felt less annoyed.

But, as eight o’clock became nine, and nine became ten, then eleven, both the sandwiches and Artemis’ patience dwindled. Beside her, Charlie had managed to drift off into a slumber, but she was only growing increasingly restless. After her fidgeting reached the point that it had roused Charlie from his sleep, the two of them decided to find some sort of entertainment, and roamed the hospital corridors in search of somewhere where they might do just that.

When they returned to the waiting room, they found it completely and eerily empty, void of any people or noise. The flickering light of a candelabra on the wall was the only movement to be seen.

“Where did everyone go?”

Before Artemis’ question could be answered - or indeed, in answer to her question - Bill appeared from the direction of the wards. His face was pale and tired looking, but his eyes were bright and his smile was broad. He strode straight across the waiting room towards them and pulled each of them into a hug.

“There you are! Where did you go?” He did not even wait for them to reply before continuing, “Never mind, you’re here now. And so is she. The baby.”

“That’s great, mate,” said Charlie, hugging his brother again. “Is Fleur alright? Is she-”

“Fleur’s fine, so is the baby, she’s… She’s perfect. Come and see.”

Bill beckoned them through to the wards, where the entire Weasley family, Fleur’s parents and sister, and Artemis’ Healer friend Chiara were gathered around a hospital bed. Lying in the bed was an exhausted looking but still irritatingly beautiful Fleur, a small bundle of cloth in her arms. Bill sat on the bed and took the bundle from her, and everyone leaned in to see the pink, wrinkly, and slightly crusty baby inside.

“We haven’t decided on a name yet,” Bill said, his voice gentler than Artemis had ever heard it before. “We thought we still had a couple of weeks left to make up our minds, but this little one had other ideas.” He looked up at Artemis. “Sorry about your birthday.”

“If it’s any consolation, I enjoyed it less than you did,” muttered Fleur wryly, a comment that was met with a few quiet chuckles.

“And what better gift is there than the gift of life?”

“I dunno, Molly,” Artemis shrugged at Bill’s mother. “I asked for a new camera.”

There was another round of soft chuckles, but Bill merely shook his head.

“Well, you’ll have to make do with a goddaughter instead,” he told Artemis, whose jaw dropped open.

“Goddaughter? Really?”

“Yeah. Sure,” Bill shared a glance with his wife. “Why not?”

Artemis turned to Charlie. “You owe me a Sickle.”

“No, he doesn’t. You’re both godparents.”

“That’s fine, I don’t mind sharing,” said Artemis, as much to Charlie as to their goddaughter’s parents. “I’m going to have to get used to sharing my birthday anyway.”

“Actually,” Chiara looked up from the clipboard she held in her hands, “she was born just after midnight, so her birthday is the second of May, not the first.”

The clock on the wall confirmed Chiara’s words. It was past midnight. It was exactly two years after the battle that had ended the war. The entire family was still, silent, and solemn.

“I don’t know about the rest of you, but I think it’s rather lovely,” Chiara said softly. “The idea that this day will be one of happiness in the future, rather than one filled with bad memories. It’s a small victory, but…”

“It is a victory, just the same.” Bill’s father nodded slowly. “Perhaps you should name her something to reflect that?”

“You could call her Joy!”

“That’s so old-fashioned, Mum,” said Ginny, with a noise of derision. “How about Hope?”

“Or Victoria?”

“Well,” Bill looked from his wife to his in-laws and back, “we were hoping for something French…”

“Victoire.”

“Sorry?”

“Victoire,” Fleur repeated. “It is the French for Victoria. It means victory.”

“It’s pretty,” her husband said. He looked down at the baby in his arms. “It suits her, don’t you think?”

“I do, yes.”

“Then that’s settled,” said Mr Weasley. He pointed his wand at a carton of pumpkin juice on the nightstand, which turned into a large bottle of champagne. Chiara frowned.

“Um, you can’t actually drink alcohol in here,” she said, but her voice tailed off as Mr Weasley continued to conjure fluted glasses from thin air. She sighed. “Oh, never mind.”

Once the glasses had been distributed, Mr Weasley raised his in a toast.

“To our own very small victory.”

“To the smallest of victories,” his son George chipped in, smiling at his tiny niece. Mr Weasley inclined his head.

“To Victoire.”

One by one, the others raised their glasses.

“To Victoire.”

#artemis hexley #harry potter fanfiction #charlie weasley #bill weasley #fleur delacour #victoire weasley #molly weasley #ginny weasley #arthur weasley #weasley family #chiara lobosca #hphm oc #hp12mom #happy birthday Artemis

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corneliaavenue-ao3 · 2 years

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I wrote a poem (you say what a mind)

Written for @hinnyfest this is Prompt 3: Sirius's birthday!

AO3

Ginny Weasley is an expert in many things: Quidditch, the bat-bogey hex, but especially making birthday cards. And Harry needs help getting Sirius a birthday gift.

Ginny barely made it back to the common room before curfew was up. Umbridge had overheard Ginny mock the high pitched “Hem hem!” in the back of the Defense classroom and assigned her detention that night. The words “I must respect those in power over me” were written over and over on a parchment of paper until the toad thought she had written enough. After 3 hours of scribbling, she was sent on her way back to the common room with her cramped hand as a memory of her punishment. Unfortunately, she still had a Charms essay she needed to write for Flitwick due tomorrow, so it was looking like it was going to be a long night.

Ginny might have to dig out the homework planner Hermione got for her birthday from the bottom of her trunk.

The Common Room was practically empty. A few 7th years in the corner swamped with the NEWT workload while three 6th year boys were playing with some of Fred and George’s test products. The only other occupant was Harry sitting in the large comfy couch near the fire. A spot that is usually also occupied by her brother and Hermione, but they seemed to be absent this evening. Probably Prefect rounds.

She made her way over to Harry, if she was going to have to stay up late, she might as well do it with some pleasant company. That is, if Harry let her. They were friends, and Ginny did homework with her friends all of the time. She wouldn’t have hesitated if it was Hermione or Ron sitting alone in the corner to join. Taking a deep breath, Ginny pushed forward. She isn’t a coward, she can do her homework near him.

“Hi Harry. Mind if I sit here and do some work?” Ginny asked.

Harry jumped, shocked to be interrupted, knocking over the inkwell that was balanced carefully on his leg. Scattered in his lap were several crumpled up pieces of paper splattered with ink drops and words crossed out, the quill still in his hand.

“Sorry!” Ginny yelped, “Here let me.” A quick scourgify cleaned up the ink spill.

“Thanks,” Harry muttered. He gave a wave to welcome Ginny to sit. Ginny gave a small smile to Harry. Slipping her bag off of her shoulders and throwing it on the coffee table, she took the spot on the floor across from Harry. Ron always laughed at her for preferring to sit on the ground, but she always found it comfortable.

Looking up from the mess in his lap, “Where are you coming back from so late?” Harry questioned.

“Detention with Umbridge.” grunted Ginny. “She had me write lines for hours. Stupid really.” Ginny continued, rolling her eyes at the pointless detention. Harry however, whipped his head to face her like she said Umbridge used the cruciatus curse for punishment. He glanced down at her hand, eyes filled with concern.

“Just lines? Are you okay?” Harry whispered.

Ginny looked down at her writing hand, wringing her wrist. “Yeah, I’m totally fine. Just a crampy wrist.” waving her hand in dismissal, “It’s only going to make this essay for Flitwick just a little more difficult to write. No big deal.”

Harry still looked a little doubtful, but did not ask any further questions. Instead he picked up another blank parchment and started to write again.

Ginny pulled out her Charms book and her own parchment, starting her essay on the difference between healing charms and their effects on different parts of human anatomy. Ginny was no healer, she did not understand why healing an ear was so much more challenging than growing back a fingernail. Two feet was going to be a challenge. Maybe if she asked nicely, Hermione might share her essay from last year with her.

Just as Ginny wrote the conclusion to her opening paragraph, Harry let out an exasperated sigh, crumpling up another parchment and throwing it in the nearby fire. Flames grew as paper turned to ash. Both of them stared at the fire as the flames dwindled back down.

Ginny turned back to Harry, “A little dramatic, don’t you think?”

Harry just scoffed and rolled his eyes at her, but she could tell his annoyance was not directed at her but rather the project he had just turned to ash.

“What are you working on anyway?” Ginny asked, curious and looking for a distraction.

Harry looked over his shoulder and then at the group of 6th years over in the corner. He leaned forward so they wouldn’t be overheard. “It’s Sirius’s birthday tomorrow, and I realized I didn’t give him a present. So I was trying to write him a letter.”

“A card is a great idea!” exclaimed Ginny.

“You are the expert in card making as far as I am aware.” Harry said leaning back into the couch. “Especially singing cards.” Harry continued, giving a lopsided grin.

Ginny’s cheeks pinked. “I am going to pretend you are not teasing me, because I am proud of my ability to make a mean singing card, and I was going to offer my services and assist you.”

“Me? Tease? Please, Gin. I would never tease you over one of the best cards I have ever received. I still have it! Although I think the singing voice has worn out. It sounds a lot less angelic and more like a mermaid on land.” Ginny laughed into her sleeve, and tried not to think too much about the way “Gin” sounded coming out of Harry’s lips.

“You can’t tease me for making singing cards, but - er - you can tease me for this.” Ginny said as she started to dig through her bag. At the bottom was a small amount of her craft supplies, only slightly squashed from the books. She pulled out blue, gold, and red streams of ribbon and colored parchment, tossing them on the table between her and Harry.

Harry stared wide eyed at the decor in front of him. “You keep your card-making supplies on you?” not even attempting to hide the playfulness in his voice.

“Okay, okay. I know I deserve it!” Ginny defended herself, “But, in my defense, it was Michael’s and mum’s birthdays last week and I needed to make cards for both of them. And I was just too lazy to take the supplies out of my backpack!”

Harry threw his hands up in defense. “Hey, you were the one who gave me permission to tease you for it, and those are valid reasons. Although, I am a little hurt because I now understand it is not that rare to get a special Ginny Weasley Card.”

Ginny grinned up at Harry, “A little full of yourself.”

Harry just grinned back. He picked up a red piece of parchment and started to draw on the front. Ginny turned back to her essay for Charms, trying to tune out the sound of Harry scribbling above her.

She made up some conclusion that the reason cartilage heals slower is because it grows much slower than fingernails. She had no clue if that was true or not, but it sounded like a good enough reason to use a stitching charm instead of a bandage charm. Harry cleared his voice above her.

“Okay, don’t laugh.”

Harry brandished the front of his card. Ginny had to suck in her cheeks to keep herself from making a noise. The cover had a black blob with 5 sticks coming out at all angles, and maybe that was a head on the left? Ginny had never seen a Thestral before, but that had to be the thing Harry drew, because she had never seen any animal that looked like it before..

“Is it rude for me to ask what that is?”

Harry stared at her like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “A big, black dog, obviously.”

“Obviously.” Ginny nodded.

“This was a stupid idea.” Harry sighed in defeat, tossing the card back onto the table.

“No it’s not, you can just cover up the front with a big bow! I have some gold ribbon!” Ginny said, brandishing the ribbon out of the pile. Quickly tying the ribbon into a knot, she glued it down to the front of the card with her wand, covering up the Grim.

“Perfect! Thanks, Gin!” Ginny made a quick mental note to herself that was the second time he called her that tonight. “I will just write a quick Happy Birthday message on the inside and send it off.”

“No no!” Ginny giggled. “If your card is going to be a Ginny Weasley approved card, it needs to be a poem that sings and rhymes!”

“Is that why you called Voldemort the Dark Lord? Just so you can rhyme with blackboard?”

“I am going to ignore the fact that you memorized one of the most mortifying moments of my life, and just try to help you with your card.”

“Don’t you have an essay to write?” Harry asked.

“Yes I do. Anyway, what rhymes with Sirius?”

Harry gave out a laugh. “Curious?” Harry suggested.

“Delirious,” Ginny responded.

“Mysterious.”

“Imperious.”

“How the hell am I supposed to incorporate an unforgivable curse in a birthday card, Ginny?”

“With creativity, Harry.”

A snort escaped from Harry. “Yes, because I am known for my creativity. The Sorting Hat almost put me in Ravenclaw because of my brilliant mind.” teased Harry, eyes twinkling over at Ginny.

Ginny stared at Harry, watching him try to stifle a grin at her. “I am not that gullible, Harry. I bet that hat spent one second on top of that head of yours and sorted you right into Gryffindor.”

Harry shook his head at her. “Something like that,” he muttered. With a sigh, he continued, “Okay. Poem. Let’s do this. We also probably shouldn’t say Sirius just in case the card ends up in the wrong hands.” He leaned forward across the table and whispered down so Ginny had to lean forward to hear him. His woodsy scent that reminded her of a mix of broom polish and crisp autumn air filled her lungs. “He wants us to call him Snuffles.”

“Snuffles?” Ginny asked, her voice coming out a little higher than intended. “Why?”

“I-,” Harry paused, thinking. “I honestly don’t think I want to know.”

Ginny threw her head back and laughed. Her heart filled with warmth. She enjoyed the banter her and Harry had. Back and forth. She was glad she made the decision to join him tonight. Listening to Hermione when she told her to relax around him was the best advice she had ever given. Smartest witch of her age indeed.

“Hmmmm…” Ginny hummed to herself. “Wait, how old is he going to be?”

Harry paused, doing mental math in his head, “uh, 36 I think. I hope.”

Ginny nodded to herself, “Okay, and what are some things you appreciate about him?”

This gave Harry a pause. He leaned back into the couch and stared into the embers of the slowly dying fire. Ginny could almost hear the thoughts whirling around in his head. She almost felt like she was intruding on a moment for him. “Er,” Harry said, clearing his throat, “I like that he is so obviously a Gryfindor. I appreciate his humor and wit, but also the way he supports me. I- I never really had a father figure that I can remember, and Sirius, well he guided me through the shitstorm that was last year and this year now too.”

Ginny reached under the table and gave Harry’s ankle a gentle squeeze of encouragement. Smiling up with reassurance, “That’s really nice Harry. I am glad he can be that person for you. Why don’t we start with something like… “

Witty, brave, and supportive, what a great mix.

Cheers to the man turning 36.

To celebrate, I made this card with bows and ruffles

Happy Birthday to my dogfather, Snuffles

Harry laughed as he wrote the final line of the poem. “Brilliant, Ginny! Ravenclaw would have fought for a mind like yours.”

“Nah, Ravenclaw probably took one look at my mind and thought that it was too vulgar. I don’t think I have ever heard a Ravenclaw swear, and I say shite and fuck way too much to be censored.”

“Well I am glad Gryffindor appreciates your vulgar mind.”

Ginny beamed up at Harry, cheeks flushing with happiness at the compliment. “Okay, so now the poem is written, I will need you to sing it!”

“Wait, what.”

Ginny stared blankly at Harry’s now pale face. Holding her grin in. Letting Harry really think that he would have to warm up his vocal cords. Harry stared back, his bright green eyes widened with fear. Ginny could swear she could see hues of gold intermixed with the green in the flickering firelight. A beat passed between them, and Ginny felt like the air evaporated from her lungs.

“I am totally shitting you, right now. It is just a spell.” Ginny said, voice only slightly breathless. She ignored the rush of blood in her ears, and pointed her wand at the card, “Verba Cantorela.”

“Fuck you,” Harry laughed, lightly kicking Ginny under the table. She joined, laughing with him. The card started to sing their poem back at them in a beautiful chorus.

This was something she could get used to. Hanging out with Harry. Laughing with Harry. Ginny was sure if Harry would ever like her in the way she used to want. But that is fine because she is totally, 100% over him. Yet moments like this, where she felt warm all over and her heart, she could pretend. And Harry had an air of carefreeness about himself that she had not seen most of term.

The warmth she felt faded when she looked over at her unfinished essay.

“Ah, fuck.”

“Hmm?”

“How much do you know about healing charms?” Ginny asked, hopefully.

“All I know is that I don’t trust Gilderoy Lockhart performing them.”

“Honestly, Professor Flitwick might accept that. I only have about…” Ginny picked up her parchment and squinted at it, “oh, a foot left. I can just ask Hermione at breakfast tomorrow morning and finish it during the first period. I don’t have Charms until after lunch.”

“I can try to help,” Harry said sheepishly. “In theory, I did this assignment last year at some point. What are you working on?”

Ginny pulled out her planner from underneath the collection of ribbon scattered on the table so she could read the essay prompt. “Healing charms for small body parts, and the best time to use each one. The example Flitwick gave was healing missing fingernails, broken noses, or missing ears.” Ginny said. “Personally, I can understand losing a fingernail or breaking a nose, but I want to meet the witch or wizard that manages to get an entire ear chopped off.”

Harry tugged at his messy mop of hair. “Probably the unfortunate side effect of a hair-cutting spell gone haywire.”

Ginny’s eyes twinkled up at Harry, “You would know all about unfortunate haircuts.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed at her, but the grin did not slip from his lips. “Rude. I thought you wanted my help.”

“I do! I just need some help coming up with another healing charm or two. I’ve exhausted everything I know about the bandage and stitching charms.”

“As someone who has visited Madam Pomfrey their fair share, Episkey is a fantastic spell.”

Ginny nearly banged her head on the table. Episkey was the first spell they learned in this unit, she handed in a 3 foot essay on that charm alone last week. “Oh duh! Thanks Harry, you’re a lifesaver!”

Harry grinned at her, “Hermione does say that I have a saving people thing. So I am glad someone appreciates it.”

“Of course I appreciate you, Harry. I think I can handle the rest of the essay.”

“In that case, I think I might head up to bed.” Harry yawned. “Night, Gin. Thanks for the help with the card, I really appreciate it.”

“Night, Harry. Thank you for the essay help.” Ginny waved as Harry went up the stairwell to the boys dormitory. Ginny found herself humming to the tune of Sirius’s birthday card as she finished up her essay. That was number three. Three times he called her Gin tonight. It was nothing special really, but it sounded sweet to Ginny’s ears.

#hinnyfest #hinny #harry x ginny #ginny weasley #harry potter #happy birthday sirius i know you would have shipped hinny #also this is my first fanfiction ever lol

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johnmchacker · 9 months

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Perchance To Scream (August, 2024)

He was always there for her.

Burrowed deep down in her subconscious like a malevolent mental tapeworm, lurking, hiding, waiting to make his presence known on the worst possible of occasions. Ginny had learned, over the years, how to lock him away; but she was so very, very young. Besides, how can you stop yourself from thinking? To think about stopping him was to think about him.

(This year's Ginny birthday fic. Read here, or on my AO3.)

When she had joined the Gryffindor Quidditch Team, he had whispered in her ear, loud and clear in his distinctive sixteen-year-old voice she recognised oh so well, Let’s see if you manage to kill anyone in a broom accident and Ginny felt once again the sickening horror as she realised she had set Salazar Slytherin’s Beast free and she’d had to concentrate so much just to force herself to fly straight, she’d dropped half the Quaffles in training and he’d settled back and chuckled.

When she blossomed under Angelina Johnson’s cheerfully matter-of-fact tutelage and helped Gryffindor win the Cup that first year, he’d waited until after she’d tumbled into bed deliriously happy and stuffed with Butterbeer and Cheese Puffskeins and Fizzing Whizzbees from the party. Ginny woke up gasping and drenched with sweat, after what seemed like hours of watching helplessly and weeping as the revived Basilisk got into the common-room during the party and hunted down her friends and brothers one by one as they ran shrieking into their dorms.

Little wonder that Ginny threw herself into life, filling her days and nights with activity so she wouldn’t have to think. Little wonder that she made Defence Against The Dark Arts her top subject, practised jinxes with her long-suffering dorm-mates until she could beat every one of them, and read every book she could find in the Hogwarts library on Possession . She joined the Gobstones Club, the Hogwarts choir, she went on dates with boys and nature walks with Hagrid, and even sweet-talked Madam Hooch into letting her join the firsties’ Flying classes for the extra broom time.

Because when she was busying herself so much she could fall into bed pleasantly exhausted every night, she could drown him out.

But he got through anyway.

He whispered in her ear every night that terrible sixth year at Hogwarts. I’m winning. Hogwarts is mine. You’re all mine. You especially, my sweet Ginny. I’ll make you mine once again. And night after night he showed her in her dreams what he would do with her - forcing her to march through the castle behind the Carrows, torturing young boys and girls, duelling her friends, murdering her own family. Nearly every morning that year Ginny woke up and cried furiously and silently into her blankets, jealous of her reputation in the dorm as an unflinching, unweeping stoic.

Even after the war was over, and he was most certainly dead, the ghost of him reared up and struck in her most unguarded moments. The first night she’d slept over at Grimmauld Place with Harry, she’d kicked Harry awake with her tossing and turning; that was when he’d found out about the nightmares. While training with the Holyhead Harpies he shouted over the whistling wind They’re dropping you from the team! and she nearly crashed. He struck hard during her first pregnancy, whispering You’ll be a terrible mother so incessantly she was reduced to tears in Waterstones; not knowing the real cause, Hermione blamed herself for loading Ginny up with parenting books.

When the Healer put James in her arms, tiny and pink and wrinkled, he sent her a devastating image of her small eleven-year-old hands stained scarlet with rooster blood, and said I’ll take this James as well, you’ll do it for me and she spent months afterwards terrified that she would drop him.

But even this last lingering shred of Tom Riddle faded with time.

And love.

When Ginny got her first Player Of The Match award, after a hard-fought five-hour battle against Puddlemere United, she’d whispered “Take that, you twisted little snake-tongued twat” and that night, she slept long and hard and deep, and woke up pleasantly rested.

There were a thousand places to go and millions of things to do, see, hear, smell, touch and taste, and whenever they could get away from their extremely busy jobs Ginny travelled the world with Harry. They basked in the sun on the beaches of Barbados, slipped hand-in-hand through the Sorcerers’ Souk in Suez, and zipped across New Zealand’s amazing mountains and valleys on their Firebolts… and all the while he stayed silent. Sometimes Ginny imagined him watching from some hole in the ground, like an impotently raging animal too scared to come out into the sun, and she’d allow herself one vengeful smirk, before returning to her life.

After she married Harry the nightmares nearly stopped altogether. Night after night Ginny drifted off to sleep with her head pillowed on his chest, or his arm draped fondly over her, and his comforting presence settled her soul like nothing else. He grounded her, cherished her, supported her, made her feel whole and young again, untouched by the cold, scaly, insidious corruption of the Diary. Never cloying, never overprotective, but there for her when she needed him most, ready with love, understanding, and an endless fund of wry wit.

Ginny had helped Harry defeat Voldemort; in turn, he helped her defeat Tom Riddle.

Harry was there for her as she fought for her place with the Holyhead Harpies, and through the hectic never-ending roller-coaster that was birthing and raising the three rascals they’d found themselves parenting. He’d been there for her when she quit the Harpies and Quidditch once and for all. And he was there the night she won Feature Of The Year at Snitch! Magazine’s Annual Gala for her massive piece on the history of sportsmanship in British and Irish Quidditch.

Harry sat at their table and beamed proudly as she went up to collect the little certificate; and beside him was James, looking very grown-up in his best dress robes, and Albus every inch as tall as his brother and taking a million photographs and grinning ear to ear, and her Lily-Lu completely forgetting her personal vow to be a ladylike and dignified sixteen-year-old, practically jumping up and down hooting and cheering her beloved Mum. Ginny saw all this as she accepted the award, and couldn’t stop herself from laughing from sheer joy.

And she did not think of Tom Riddle at all.

She didn’t know it, but she beat him at last then. She didn’t realise it, not consciously, because to think about beating him was to think about him. And thus did Ginny destroy the last vestiges of Tom Riddle within her.

Later that night, Ginny reminded her children to go to sleep, knowing very well that they would probably stay up another hour talking excitedly about the events of the evening, then went to change out of her evening gown, wash off the makeup, and get ready for bed. She got under the covers, kissed Harry good night, and grinned to herself as he slipped his arm around her and fell asleep immediately.

Ginny settled herself snugly under the bedclothes by Harry’s side, his body a reassuring bulwark against which a weary warrior could rest and trust to keep her safe.

And slept in untroubled, victorious peace.

#harry potter #hinny #hp fanfiction #ginny weasley #happy birthday

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takearisk-xo · 1 year

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MAY 3RD, 1998 a tpfy missing moment

But first he owed an explanation to Ron and Hermione, who had stuck with him for so long, and who deserved the truth. (Deathly Hallows, chap 36)

tpfy missing moments // the path from you

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO OUR BEST BOY: RON WEASLEY

#hinny #harry x ginny #hinny fanfic #hinny fic #harry potter #ginny weasley #ron weasley #the path from you #tpfy missing moment #HAPPY BIRTHDAY RON

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realginnysue · 9 months

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Ginny Weasley, 29, the star chaser of The Holyhead Harpy, was named in the starting line-up of the English National team for the 2010 Quidditch World Cup.

And that year, England won the championship.

#ginny weasley #happy birthday ginny weasley #fuck the 19 years later #she deserves better

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ginnyw-potter · 2 years

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Happy Birthday, my love

Harry leaned against the door frame leading into the kitchen. He had his arms folded.

"I was supposed to make breakfast for you today," he spoke. He saw a soft smile appearing on her face but she didn't reply. He snuck up to her as she was preparing eggs and wrapped his arms around her waist.

"Happy birthday, my love," he said against her ear before attacking her neck with kisses.

"I'm going to burn the eggs," she said softly, making no move to stop him.

"When the eggs are done, I will go get your gift," Harry said. He did not move to release her as she continued with the eggs.

She turned down the heat and then put a heating charm on the eggs. She turned around in his arms and kissed him.

"Okay, what's my gift," she asked now. Harry kissed her cheek and released her.

He stepped into the other room. He returned with a wrapped gift that was very obviously a broom.

"A broom?" she asked.

"Not just any broom," he said, he handed the broom to her.

Her fingers pulled at the paper and tore it apart. Ginny let out the loudest shriek.

"That's! That's…the FireChase! That's not even out yet!"

"May have dropped my name… and when they heard it was for the best Chaser in the country….well, they were happy to provide it early," Harry said as Ginny jumped into his arms.

"I've been aching to get my hands on that," she said, kissing him eagerly.

"I know. Now go test it out!" Harry told her.

"What about breakfast?"

"Breakfast can wait for five minutes," he responded.

Ginny grabbed the broom and quickly ran into the garden. "Bold of you to assume I'll be back in five minutes!" With the same amount of glee as a child on Christmas, she pushed off the ground and took off.

Harry watched from the door as Ginny went straight up into the sky at incredible speed. He sat down and got comfortable, he knew she'd not make it back to the ground for at least an hour.

#ginny weasley #ginny #happy birthday ginny weasley #hinny #nooo I absolutely not forgot that her birthday was today #hence this short drabble

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harryissuchalittleshit · 2 years

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Ginny Headcanons for her birthday

She has always loved her birthday

Being the youngest, she gets so much attention, and even Bill and Charlie always seem to be around in her birthday

Percy always reads her “babbity rabbity and her cackling stump” for her birthday, a tradition that continues after the war

(It’s their favorite Beedle the Bard story)

She finds out she’s pregnant with James on her 22nd birthday

Okay, onward - she and Harry get married on Aug 16th…right after her 22nd birthday

Ginny is the one to name James actually, she won the right in a game of “rock, paper, scissors”

She knew that Harry wanted to name their son after his dad, and she loved the name James since she was little

But Harry wanted James’ middle name to be Albus and she wanted it to be Sirius

Sirius had been so kind to her when she got nightmares at Grimmauld Place, he would make her hot chocolate and tell her about the uncles she never met

In fact, Sirius told her a lot of stories that she was able to pass onto her brothers, Harry, and later their children

Ginny is always the storyteller

Al was born a week after Ginny’s 24th birthday

She lost the game of “rock, paper, scissors” this time around, but she never once calls him Albus, it’s always Al or Albie when he’s a baby

In fact, Ginny is the reason why Al only goes by Al when he’s older

And finally, she came up with Lily Luna’s name

Harry had been gone in a mission while she was pregnant, and Luna had been a big help to Ginny, practically moving in with her twin boys

They were always going to name their daughter after Harry’s mother, but the middle name was always up in the air

(Originally it was going to be Lily Molly, after both of her grandmothers, possibly Lily Minerva after Professor McGonagall, matching Lily Evans initials)

Lily looks the most like Ginny, but she finds more similarities between herself and her boys

James reminds her a lot of Bill and Percy, even if he does have a trouble streak, he is very loving and great leader and looks after his younger cousins/siblings very well

She finds so many similarities between Al and Fred and George. Al has the same freckles across their nose like the twins, and he Carrie’s so much on his shoulders like they did during the war, she often tells Al about how he reminds her of Fred in his teen years

Lily is all Harry and her grandmothers, she’s the parts of them that clash with Ginny, causing some friction in her teen years that they fight through

Ginny loves her kids so much, she really strived to make their home as comfortable as the Burrow and loves having their kids, their friends, and all of her nieces and nephews over for the summer holidays

She just loves a full house, it brings her back to her childhood

She quit the Harpies for her kids, but looking back on it, she knew that it was time for her to commit to her family in that time

She does keep up most of the workout schedule after she leaves, even years later when her kids are grown

She and Harry like to run together, and living out in the countryside they have plenty of privacy to just go wild

She lets Harry teach the kids how to fly and ride a bike and even how to drive (Ginny never learns how to drive a car) but Ginny teaches their kids her best moves from her playing days (all three of them play chaser like her)

She has 5 godchildren, Teddy Lupin, Victoire Weasley, Rose Weasley, Lysander Lovegood, and August “Gus” Longbottom with Victoire and Gus being just hers, not her and Harry’s

A lot of her nieces do come to her with dating questions, but Ginny gives terrible dating advice, having been in love with only one person for most of her life

She does give great fashion and make up advice though, so win-win in her book

Ginny is just such a good person to the younger (and older) people in her life, she gives her family so much joy and love, and she has been one of my favorite characters since I first read Harry Potter

You can read more about Ginny on my Ao3!

#harry potter #ginny weasley #head canons #family #james sirius potter #albus severus potter #al potter #lily luna potter #happy birthday girl!!

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