#harry x ginny ficlet

[nuatthebeach]

like passing notes in secrecy

gifted to @foreverginevra for simply being an angel. you are the queen of hinny banter, so i thought i would write something to commemorate that <333 comment here on AO3

"Harry."

Grunt.

"Oh, Harry. At least pretend like you aren't sleeping during class."

"Relax," Harry's voice comes out groggy, clearly in the midst of a soft snore. "Ron's got my back, doesn't he?"

"Yeah, no, totally," Ron says in support, dangling the feather of his quill against the sensitive nares of Harry's nose.

Harry sneezes, earning a few startled glances from his peers around him. Hermione laughs. "Sod off, the both of you."

"Not our fault you make it so easy," but Ron acquiesces and puts the quill away.

"I'll keep that in mind the next time you fall asleep in Transfiguration."

"Hear that, Hermione? Fighting words."

"Alright," Harry retorts, slumping forward on his palms, watching the words "14th Century Wizarding Economic Bubble" grow blurry as his eyes start to shut once more. For once, Harry wishes, he would like to spend a single History of Magic class without being subjected to the monotonous tunes of Professor Binns' lectures. And as amusing as it was in his first year, he's bloody tired of watching yet another student hock a loogie through the ghost's translucent bum. He's starting to feel bad for the old man. Er, ghost.

He is just beginning to doze off when he hears the rusty doors from behind give way, echoing loud enough to even startle their professor mid-speech, the words "volatile consequences of the 1378 Soap Blizzard" falling flat on his tongue.

His shriveled eyebrows shoot up like sun-dried beans, comprehension lining his ancient face. "Right, everyone. I have got a treat for you. With the fifth year O.W.L.s right around the corner, we are taking a stronger initiative this year to give students a better opportunity to learn from their older peers and take notes in higher level classes for a few days. Professor Flitwick has generously offered to sacrifice a day of teaching so that his pupils can sit and observe for today's lesson. Please leave a few spaces for them to attend at ease."

The response to this from his fellow sixth years is varied. Some highlights include: "That's a treat?," "Poor fifth years," "I doubt it was much of a sacrifice," "If they really wanted to help students, they would give a few days off, but instead they give more?," and "They never let us attend higher year classes." The latter comment is, of course, from Hermione.

But all of this commotion is background noise in comparison to the whirring in Harry's ears, head swinging this way and that as his eyes begin to search, fingers thrumming in anticipation on the desk in front of him. There's only one person he knows, or even cares about, from fifth year who was lucky enough to enroll in Flitwick's midday class, owing to the fact that she is his favorite student after all -

A cauldron slams to the right of him, and he jumps in his seat. He almost falls over as his suspicions are quickly confirmed.

"Oh, great. A class with my little sister. Only managed to escape one for six years."

Ginny, red hair swept into a high ponytail with the exception of two strands that gently frame her mischievous face, sticks her tongue defiantly at her brother. "Miss you too, wanker. And no one was going to sit next to you, don't worry." As she lowers herself into the empty spot next to Harry, he feels his heart beat three times the normal speed, a grin splitting his face in zealous two.

"Wide awake now, are we, Harry?" Hermione smirks, something irritatingly smug in her expression.

"Glad to have you here, Ginny," Harry cuts in, trying to shift the focus away once he sees Ron frowning, "Though I can't say you'll say the same soon."

"Are you kidding me?" Ginny leans in, her flowery scent inviting him to gravitate toward her magnetic pull. "After that kitten-sneeze I heard through the door? It would be my pleasure."

Harry sheepishly smiles, but at least Ron is laughing, sufficiently distracted. Cheeks flushing pink, he says, "I'll try to keep doing embarrassing things to please you, if it helps." 

Ginny winks before half-heartedly taking out some parchment and ink, pretending to listen to Professor Binns as he drones on and on about…well, to be utterly frank, Harry has absolutely no idea. This time, not for the usual reasons, he thinks, eyes flitting to the girl he's fancied for the better half of the year, the girl who makes him giddy and laugh like no one else he's ever met, the girl he’s hardly had any time to spend with one-on-one because her brother likes to hover after practice, the girl who is newly oh so single…

Hermione is right. Harry has never been more alert and engaged in a lecture in his entire life. Especially for this class.

It's why he gets a bit discouraged when he sees Ginny writing lecture notes on her parchment, giving him the idea that she's perhaps not so distracted as he currently is by her presence alone. We've never sat together in a class like this before… Harry forces himself to sit upright, promising himself that he is not going to distract her from her O.W.L.s studies because if it's important to her, it's important to him.

All of that resolution flies through the roof, though, when she suddenly nudges the piece of parchment to him, and he sees the words It's been five minutes, and I'm already so fucking bored scrawled in black ink.

Harry releases a loud chuckle before slapping his hand over his mouth, eyes wide. Hermione glares at the two of them. Ginny snorts.

Ron looks over at the passing note and mouths "unfair," but other than that, no one in the class seems to notice.

Harry takes her quill in his hand (he never bothered taking out his notes to start with) and begins writing.

Me too. I got some kip earlier before you all arrived.

She smirks. Some beauty rest? It would explain the right half of your hair jutting out.

He rolls his eyes, mussing his hair in place as she quietly laughs. Believe it or not, it was way worse before.

I believe it.

They pause in their back and forth, eyes facing the front as they sit in companionable silence. His cheeks feel like flames, the way he's utterly giddy to have her next to him. He'll sleep when he's dead, he thinks, nerves firing every time her shoulder brushes his.

It's another seven minutes when Harry gets her next message, and he peers over, feeling the dizziness that usually accompanies a hearty cheering charm.

Speaking of shite history lessons, I did some research on my own the other day.

He flashes her a questioning look, already amused. You? Research?

She drops her jaw in mock-indignation. Hey! I'm no Hermione, but I can be smart sometimes. Besides, this ended up being a worthy venture.

That's not what I meant. You're brilliant, he writes before nervously glancing over at her and rushing the words, And do tell.

It’s a fun fact, if you will. I’m sure it will come as a surprise to you that Salazar Slytherin is a sleazebag whose wife was only slightly less worse.

He laughs, making efforts to be quieter. That's an attention grabber.

Isn't it just.

"If you lot are done giggling like schoolgirls, you'll find that your parchment is almost running out," Ron hisses to them, ignoring Hermione's shushing gestures.

Ginny leans over, and Harry fights the urge to dig his nose into the sweetness of her hair. "Ron, your fly is calling, it says it's cold outside."

"I'm not falling for that," he retorts the same time that Hermione says, "It's zipped." Hermione flushes as Ron comically covers his…er, bits, and Harry bites his tongue to avoid chortling.

He nudges her shoulder with his own, heat crackling. Ignore him. Continue.

Right. Ginny takes out another roll of parchment. Well, it's a bit dark.

I know nothing of the sort.

She flashes him a smirk. It honestly might be a bit darker.

Okay, NOW you are offending me.

Ginny snorts. Here goes. So, Slytherin's wife was madly in love with him, right?

Sure.

But he had loads of affairs with a number of women, one of them his own niece.

Sounds like our lovely, resident pureblooded killmonger.

Gets worse. To get back at him, one of the many things the wife did was kick his most beloved under the table any time she'd have dinner: his dog. Harry gives her a strange look. Yes, I thought he loved snakes too, for… She flits her eyes at him before looking down. …obvious reasons but apparently, wizards loved dogs then too.

Don't make me sympathetic toward Salazar, of all people.

I'm not trying to. Doesn't change the fact that he legit cared more about the dog than his own wife. When he had to test a poison on the dog, he was completely inconsolable and didn’t blink twice when people suggested the same for his wife. When they eventually died, people grieved more for the dog than the wife. Rumor says the dog is even buried with him. But his wife doesn’t lay anywhere near the graveyard. Ever since, wizards are in constant fear that we will love dogs more than our own people. And that's the story of how we're only allowed a cat, toad, owl, or rat. No dogs.

Harry snorts, smirking and shaking his head.

Wow. That story was just the right amount of dark and humorous. You really do get me.

Don’t you forget it.

Their eyes meet, alight with mischief, as he feels a wave of appreciation for her and - randomly - Professor Flitwick, who orchestrated the very circumstances surrounding Harry's delight. Then, it's his turn to grab the quill, nudging his chair closer to hers, grinning stupidly as their feet press gently against one another’s.

Onto more lighter topics…

Oh, yes, please.

You remember the vampire who wanted my biography at Slughorn's party, right? Well, he sent an owl, asking me for a blood sample.

Now, it is Ginny who lets out a snicker. Heart pounding, he scribbles a bit more, suddenly desperate to hear more of her tingling laughter: I sent in one of Ron's blood-flavored lollipops. Don't think he could tell the difference.

That's a lighter topic??

Compared to dying dogs? Sure?

To be fair, vampires are hot. Wait, can he take my blood sample? Harry rolls his eyes.

A few moments later, she looks over at him, a competitive look gleaming bright in the spark of her eyes. It’s the same look she gets when she’s about to eviscerate her opponents on the Quidditch field. It’s the same look that drives Harry mad, makes him dream great, ambitious things in his sleep and worry over certain dormmates noticing the consequences the next morning. Also I didn't realize this was a competition over who has the darkest sense of humor.

Her expression is razor-sharp, electric, blazing, beckoning for him to dive into her flames and burn. He runs the hand that's not holding the quill through his hair, positively melting as he watches her stare tracing the path of his fingers.

Everything's a bloody competition with you, he writes, fast like his heart is racing to escape his body, to be out into the open, to be seen. I beat you once in Exploding Snap, you beat me five. I eat something spicy, you dump the whole sauce. I breathe, you breathe harder.

That last one is because I've got short legs. But you're pretty competitive, too.

At that, the words spill like dark paint, longing, pining, a reflection of everything he’s been feeling since October this school year. Maybe longer.

I know. It's why this works so well. Why we work well together, and thenhe halts, ink bottle spilling over slightly as he uses his quick Seeker reflexes to catch it before more embarrassing damage is done, siphoning up the small mess as best he can with his wand. He scrawls, rapidly, On the pitch! We work well on the pitch. Because. He racks his brain. Competition. Fuck.

He's absolutely terrified to look up, to assess her reaction; she still hasn't bothered reaching for the quill at this point, and he thinks it's over, this is where she's going to reject him, and it doesn't even matter to him if her brother, his best friend, would approve if she doesn't, and he feels blood empty from his brain like rainfall - but Ginny is now reaching for the quill, calmly dipping it in the ink bottle and prints neatly, confidently:

I think we work well together off the pitch too.

His eyes shoot up to hers, courage filling him like air to a balloon, and under her self-assured gaze, he inflates. He feels warm, warm all over because this has to mean something, this must be a sign for him to make a move, and fuck, she’s already close to him, her freckles lining up the gentle pert of her nose, her chocolate eyes on his lips, and - speaking of lips - his are subconsciously dipping toward hers…

Suddenly, he hears noise around him and sees many of the fifth years stand up. Ginny stiffens for a few seconds - sighs and pulls away, assembling her things together and pursing her lips.

Heat grazes the tips of his ears.

"I suppose this is it,” some of her first audible words since sitting down. He’s anxious, nervous - but when she meets his searching gaze, she gives him another one of her determined looks and he gets the warm feeling that the next time he attempts to kiss her, she’ll be the one leaning in.

He shivers.

"Ergh, thank Merlin."

"Hush, Ron. She barely talked all of class.”

“I could hear her devilish laughter, couldn’t I? That’s hardly better.”

“…It’s not like Harry was any worse.”

“Yeah, how many rolls of parchment did they go through? And how much does one need to talk about Quidditch plays, really?!”

Harry decides not to pay attention to the irony of Ron’s outburst. Besides, both of them really couldn’t be talking anyway since they had been playing tic-tac-toe on a bit of parchment themselves (how Ron convinced Hermione to do something un-school related in the midst of class is beyond him).

Even still, he hates how wistful he sounds to his own ears. "Leaving already?"

"Yeah," she says, glancing down at her watch. "We were only supposed to be here for an hour. But it was fun, you know…” Her grin is all-encompassing. “Seeing what it would be like if we had more classes like this…if we were in the same school year.”

He grins, cheeks flushing, wondering how it is that they are always on the exact same page. “I don’t think I’d get any work done.”

She winks. "I take that as a compliment."

"You should." He doesn't know what causes him to say it, but all day, his courage’s been on the forefront when she's around him. She’s electricity and he’s a wire, begging her to light up his days. "I…really like not getting work done with you.” And he should really stop talking now.

Her brows skyrocket, those lips that are perpetually in a smirk teasing him to take refuge in her warmth. "See you later, Harry. And we can do more of…not getting work done together. Whenever you’d like.”

He prays she doesn’t take notice of the subtle shift in his seat at that particular sentence.

"I hope so,” he croaks, “See you."

She squeezes his shoulder one last time and exists the hall. As Harry faces the front again, he tucks all four rolls of written parchment in his cauldron. For safekeeping, of course.

They are the most valuable notes he’s taken all school year.

#hinny ficlet #hinny fluff #hinny banter #harry x ginny ficlet #hbp missing moments #part of the daylight universe but FVCK ao3 for not letting me gift individual chapters i am furious

[rmwb-fanfics]

Harry was very aware of footsteps. He had to be.

He’d needed the skill to determine which of his relatives had come to wake him up every morning.

He’d needed to know if he’d receive dust coming down from the stairs as his cousin jumped up and down obnoxiously above.

Or perhaps the rapid knocking of his Aunt Petunia. Forever impatient with Harry’s groggy morning tendencies.

Or, worse still, Uncle Vernon’s lazy opening of the cupboard door. A mumbled “Get up,” as he shuffled off to the kitchen.

Harry had come to know Sirius’s steps as well. They were quiet. Years of sneaking around after hours and running from the Ministry had left him a master of going audibly unnoticed.

Though, when Harry caught it, it was always his heels that gave him away. Scraping on the floor as the man trudged down the many flights of stairs in his childhood home. His old prison regaining its title for caging the pride of Sirius Black.

That knowledge held within Harry’s mind was worthless now, however. Because as the June sun beat down on his tired skin, Harry knew that he’d never hear those footsteps again.

He’d never hear that lazy slide of a heel. Not from Sirius, anyway.

Because those footsteps were lost. Tumbling back behind a veil Harry no longer cared to understand.

It should’ve been Bellatrix, or Wormtail, or anyone other than the one man who had stood up for him. Who had reached through the darkness of Harry’s mind and pulled him to safer, warmer shores.

It wasn’t fair. None of this was. The prophecy, the war, the scars on the back of his hand.

It wasn’t fair to his friends, who had grown attached to a boy doomed to become a murderer, or die in his refusal to do so.

It wasn’t fair to his parents, who had sacrificed their lives for a chance at destroying a shell of a man too afraid to let the inevitable claim his wounded soul.

Harry’s eyes are closed. The light and colour of the world shuttered behind the impenetrable red glow of the back of his eyelids. His back pressed against a tree that had lost so much of its comfort in light of the memory of a boy tormenting his classmate. Of friends and future loves saying things only his nightmares could’ve imagined.

He didn’t care about that now, however. All he thought now was that Sirius had once sat here. His eyes alight with mischief and life. Something Harry had only seen glimpses of. Like a ghost at the end of an unending corridor.

The ebb and flow of the shallow waves from the lake kept his mind at bay. It’s murky depths maintaining his sanity. Letting them hold him up.

He hears footsteps, then. Grass getting pressed into the ground under determined steps. Twigs cracking and bending to the sheer will of whoever was coming.

Harry releases a pained sigh. The tranquility of the moment slipping away with each impending step.

They are neither graceful nor clumsy. Each fall is deliberate, understanding. They’re light, which means it isn’t one of the boys, unless Colin Creevey had come looking for an autograph.

It isn’t Hermione, who marched anywhere she went, while somehow managing to be delicate and hesitant.

Then, as the steps near his place, seated against a tree, they stop. He hears the rumple of robes, and the staticky sound of thousands of strands of grass being folded down under the weight of someone sitting down.

Harry’s irritation swells in his chest. He’d came here to be alone. To sink in his despair and let the world take hold of him. He’d made himself very clear without saying a word to his friends. They’d understood. He’d seen it in Ron’s eyes and Hermione’s frown.

He hears the creak of leather bindings, and the ruffle of pages. Then, the unfamiliar click of a muggle pen. A sound he hadn’t heard in years, really. Save for Mr. Weasley’s incessant questions on the things over the summer.

His throat dry, his voice harsh, Harry says, “I don’t want to talk,”

There’s no immediate response. Just the sound of someone scribbling away on parchment.

“I know,” his mysterious companion mumbled. Her voice like a song in the breeze. He shouldn’t be surprised now, after a year full of them, that it was Ginny Weasley.

She continues to write, and Harry keeps his eyes shut. He can feel the tickle of hair dancing on his right arm. The wind blowing it onto his bicep.

“What are you writing?” he asks as the dull scratching becomes a monotone ringing in his ears.

“I thought you said you didn’t want to talk?” Ginny’s writing stops, and Harry feels his lips quirk upward slightly.

He doesn’t respond. Instead choosing to shift his legs into a more comfortable position. Giving his knees a break and letting the blood move through them.

“I’m writing a story,” she explains after a long silence filled with the distant cheers of simpler lives and waves rolling up a gravelly shore.

“What’s it about?” Harry asks, his voice lighter this time.

Ginny huffs a quiet laugh. “You don’t get the details. You can read it once it’s finished,”

Harry unwinds his arms and let’s them fall comfortably into his lap. “Will I get a free copy?”

“Maybe,” is Ginny’s shrewd response.

Again a silence lapses between them. Harry’s chest rises and falls with every breath.

Every breath he is still here, on one side of a veil.

“It’s about a girl,” Ginny says eventually. He swears he can see her tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Her freckled nose twitching in the breeze. “She’s awake and she knows what she wants. She’s happy,”

Harry nods slowly, his eyes stay shut.

“I hope you let me read it some time,”

“Maybe,”

And for hours there was nothing but silent writing, and Harry’s thoughts strayed from Sirius, from the prophecy, and from his parents.

He wanted to know about the girl who knew what she wanted. Who was happy.

#harry potter #ficlet #ootp missing moment #missing moments #ginny weasley #harry x ginny #head canon #hp fanfcition #hinny #sirius black

[takearisk-xo]

ron interrupts... again

written for @hinnyfest prompt #7: getting caught in the act unofficial sequel to five times ron interrupted, and one time he didn’t

Harry had spent enough time at the Burrow to know which floorboards creaked, so as he crept down the stairs, the wee hours of the morning remained undisturbed. He’d intended to make his way to the kitchen for a cup of tea, but when he reached the first floor landing, he paused. 

Ginny’s door was cracked open, just enough that he could see the first hints of dawn stretching across the far wall. 

Impulse taking over, he pushed it open and winced at the squeak of hinges. Ducking into her room, he found Ginny sitting in her large bay window with a blanket around her shoulders.

“Hi,” he breathed, shutting the door as quietly as he could. 

She smiled at him sleepily, her silhouette backlit by the creeping yellow light glowing along the horizon. 

Harry crossed over to her and pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head. “Figured you wouldn’t be up for hours.”

Ginny sighed. “That was the plan, yes.”

Breathing out a chuckle, he joined her on the sill and leaned back against the opposite panel. “Happy Christmas.”

She tucked her legs into her chest and propped her chin on her knees. “You too.”

He watched her for a long moment, trying to figure out if the sluggishness in her eyes was drowsy or weary. Ginny watched him right back, her head tilted in contemplation.

“Do you remember last Christmas?” she asked finally.

Harry grimaced. “I try not to.”

Ginny tucked her cheeks into her elbow to hide her smile, and he felt his own stretch across his face.

“I was so angry with you,” she continued, her smile turning sad. “Now I can’t even remember why.”

“Well, I’m not going to remind you-”

Shaking her head, she leaned forward so Harry could pull her into his arms. Ginny slotted herself into his side, like she was made to be there, and he began to rub slow circles into the space between her shoulder blades.

“I have a feeling this year will be much better,” he murmured against her hair. 

Ginny snorted. “Not hard to be.”

Harry wrapped his arms more tightly around her. “I missed you last night.”

“I missed you, too.” She tilted her head back to look at him. “I left the door open.”

He gave her a bewildered look. “Your room is across the hall from your parents.”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “I don’t know why they insist on that stupid rule. We live together, what does it matter if we aren’t engaged?”

“Wait,” Harry feigned surprise. “I haven’t proposed yet?”

Extending her left hand, she scrutinized her empty fingers. “Doesn’t look like it.”

“Damn, I really thought I’d done that.”

“Make it memorable, would you?” Ginny shifted so she could face him fully. “Flowers, candles, firecrackers, a whole big speech about how I’m way to good for you-”

Harry’s hands settle against her ribs. “Firecrackers?”

“The more the better.”

“Sounds like you’ve got it all planned out,” he taunted. “Why haven’t you done the proposing then?”

“Didn’t want to steal your thunder.”

Harry chuckled and the sleepiness in her eyes disappeared, replaced by a playful spark that quickened his pulse in anticipation. 

“It’s only half six,” Ginny breathed, a knowing smirk twisting the corners of her mouth. “Want to risk it?”

Harry shook his head and muttered, “You’re barking.” 

Ginny quirked a copper eyebrow. “That wasn’t a no…”

Of course it wasn’t, because when had he ever actually been able to tell her no. 

Instead of answering, he lowered his head into the crook of her neck and found the spot just beneath her ear that sent her squirming. He pressed his lips into her skin in the barest, most torturous of kisses. 

Her breath hitched and he grinned.

“You know,” he asserted, speaking against her ear. “You aren’t exactly quiet.”

Ginny hummed. “If only there was a spell or a charm for that sort of thing.”

Harry ignored her, returning his attention to her pulse point. He grazed his teeth along the freckles there, then smoothed it away with his tongue. When he sucked, Ginny pulled in a sharp breath through her nose. 

Fisting the hair at the top of his head, she tugged his face around and captured his lips in a punishing kiss. Harry gave into her easily, their tongues rolling against each other in such a way that he didn’t even try to hold back the soft moan that clawed its way up his throat. 

“Don’t start something you don’t intend to finish,” she murmured against his mouth. 

“Your mother can hardly kill me for kissing you good morning.”

“Is that what we’re doing?” 

Harry shrugged and leaned in to kiss her again, but he found no purchase as she slipped out of his reach. Ginny grabbed his hands and pulled him up from the window seat after her. She walked backwards, leading him over to her bed and she just looked so damn smug, Harry couldn’t help but grab her by the back of the head and crash his lips into hers. 

His hands slipped beneath the hem of her jumper and the skin of her waist was heated beneath his fingers. Not to be outdone, never to be outdone, Ginny took it one step further and hauled Harry’s sweater halfway up his chest so he’d either have to tug it back down or divest himself of the garment completely. 

He chose the latter. 

Only, as soon as he’d tossed it aside, the bedroom door burst open. 

“Hey, Ginny?” Ron said in a rush. “Can you help me with th-”

He stopped talking abruptly, taking in a shirtless Harry with his hands up the front of his sister’s pajamas and a flushed Ginny with her face buried in Harry’s chest. 

“Why?” Ron groaned, his entire body deflating. 

“Do you ever knock?” Ginny hissed. 

Ron visibly bristled. “It’s seven in the morning! And he’s meant to be in Bill’s room!”

Harry took this accusation in stride and instead worried about the goings on across the hall. “Would you keep your voice down?”

“Oh, yeah, right.” Ron snapped. “Because I’m sure whatever going on in here was noiseless-”

Ginny made a disgusted sound. “Get out!”

Grumbling under his breath, Ron escaped the room as quickly as he appeared. 

Harry snatched up his jumper and pulled it back over his head. 

“Where’re you going?” Ginny asked indignantly. 

“Kitchen.” Harry pressed a quick kiss to her lips. “Before your mum wakes up.”

#hinnyfest #hinny #harry x ginny #hinny ficlet #the path from you #tpfy epilogue #my fic

[cheesyficwriter]

Gorgeous

Hi, Romione lovers! I wrote this short ficlet for the @cruelsummer-ficfest! I was given the song "Gorgeous" by Taylor Swift to use as inspo for my favorite HP couple. While the theme of the story doesn't exactly follow the song, some of the lyrics are represented through characters/lines in the fic. Also, fully expect some Ron thirst from Hermione's POV.

Thank you to the mods for hosting such a fun and creative fest. Go check out the other awesome stories already released. Hope you enjoy! ❤

Ocean blue eyes looking in mine

I feel like I might sink and drown and die

You're so gorgeous

I can't say anything to your face

'Cause look at your face

And I'm so furious

At you for making me feel this way

But what can I say?

You're gorgeous

Gorgeous - Taylor Swift

It’s a warm, cozy early autumn evening, perfect for a small and intimate affair. Guests mingle amidst the garden, surrounded by floating candles and flower motifs. Every single witch and wizard is out of their designated seat, cheering and dancing between bursts of high energy songs as glasses of Firewhiskey and champagne are passed around in merriment.  

Harry and Ginny’s wedding reception is a fabulously good time.

The newlywed couple glides around the open space with the biggest spotlight following them. Hermione glances over at Ginny, who is absolutely glowing and conveying an admirable amount of confidence and beauty as she nestles into the crook of Harry’s arm. Given all that Harry has gone through, the simplicity and privacy given to them in this moment is what he truly deserves. 

Witnessing their bliss brings an ache to the forefront of Hermione’s chest. The music transitions to a slow tempo, and her thoughts drift to one particular Weasley with ginger hair and ocean blue eyes.  

Ron, her best friend and boyfriend of almost five years, and the person who she couldn’t have planned Harry and Ginny’s reception without driving herself mental. She lost him somewhere in the small crowd earlier, and hasn’t seen him since the food table. Figures. 

Deep inside, she’s more than comfortable with the life they have together. So blissfully happy—almost to the point of delirium—that it’s very audacious of her to crave more. That’s not to say their goals have always aligned. If anything, their relationship has been on a twisted trajectory ever since they met. 

But it still poses the question. Does Ron ever picture what’s next for them? Now that Harry and Ginny are married, all eyes will likely be on Ron and Hermione, looking for the next commitment. It’s a thought she’s certainly had before, but one that never took up much space in her brain until this evening. 

Why is she so motivated now? It certainly can’t be jealousy. She’s very happy for Harry and Ginny, thrilled even. But it’s not a race to the altar. It never has been. As hard as she’s tried to find a suitable justification for making this commitment, all she can work out is that there is no justification not to. 

Is he waiting on her signal? She’s progressive enough to have no qualms being the one to propose to him, but she has a feeling that Ron would take pride in having that task himself.

A cluster of flobberworms flutter through Hermione’s stomach. Does she imagine growing old with him? Absolutely. She can’t imagine not having him in her life. The sheer thought of them breaking up—a hard lump works its way down her throat. She doesn’t want to ever think about that. 

There is no other choice for her. There is no other person.

She almost considers gazing into the depths of one of Trelawney’s barmy crystal balls to see what the future holds for them. Ha! Almost.

A part of her is compelled to stumble on home and curl up into a ball next to Crookshanks as she continues to contemplate her life. Instead, she snags her third floating glass of champagne from the air and downs it in two gulps. 

When Hermione cranes upright again after draining the contents of her glass, she finds herself gazing straight into the depths of Ron’s baby blues. Her heart pulses twice as fast, realizing that he has been watching her from afar, and all at once self-conscious over not knowing how long she has held his attention. He tilts his head, his eyes raking up and down her body, as if he’s appreciating her more than a homemade cauldron cake. 

Ron’s confident, unwavering presence is a far cry from the shy, awkward boy she knew at age 11. Their unabashed intimacy into adulthood is still new to her. It certainly wasn’t instantaneous infatuation when they first met—more like instantaneous annoyance, a feeling that lasted for several weeks before they got a chance to truly get to know each other and she went on to consider Ron one of her dearest friends. She hasn’t always liked that infuriating man at all times, but she’s always loved him, even if she didn’t know it in her early years. 

But is that enough to say they are ready now? Is there anything else they want to accomplish before settling down?

Hermione chuckles to herself. They’ve won a war, for Merlin’s sake. They’re both very satisfied with their career paths. They’ve had an extraordinary run as individuals before having a real chance at being a couple. And that right there is the information she needs to be secure in what she wants. 

She wants to marry Ron Weasley.

As if hearing her sing his name in her thoughts, Ron breezes through the crowd in Hermione’s direction. A distinct smirk forms upon his lips, the soft candlelight illuminating the freckles on his face. Hermione analyzes his every movement, enjoying the way his rolled up dress sleeves reveal the taut muscles along his forearms. Her hunger for him is so intense, it knocks the air straight out of her lungs. She inhales a shaky breath, making a feeble attempt to alleviate her roaring sex drive. 

Good luck with that.

Too late. The lust she has for her boyfriend overpowers any rational thinking right now. Her brain is not doing well in this particular situation.

Ron approaches, looping one of his thumbs through the belt of his trousers before offering the palm of his other hand. “Come and dance with me?” 

Hermione grins. At least he managed to form some semblance of a question this time, instead of blurting out a demand in a hilarious effort to drag her away from Viktor Krum. 

“I thought you would never ask.”

He frowns, a blush reddening his cheeks. “Really? I—”

“Relax, Ron,” she laughs, biting down on her lip as she turns her gaze down to the gold ballet flats on her feet. “I would love to.”

A rhythm of classical music flutters in the background as Ron takes her hand, leading Hermione over to the center of the crowd. Her olive green dress swishes against the ground as she walks. The air around them is warmer now, despite the cool evening. Although the many glasses of champagne pulsating through her veins may be contributing to her flushed cheeks. 

Ron’s arms draw her close until their chest to chest, his breath warm against her neck. She falls into his embrace with trained ease, resting her head on his shoulder. They sway back and forth during the first few minutes of the ballad, filling the space with easy smiles and gentle touches. 

It’s still amazing to Hermione that they’ve even made it this far, here, to this very moment where she feels comfortable enough showing affection for someone else, and receiving the same amount in return. The last time she danced with Ron like this—well, it was a perfect moment until their world spun into darkness and the Horcrux Hunt began. 

Now it’s all over—it’s been five years, to be exact—and there’s a calmness, a sense of security, hanging in the air. 

She lifts her head in amusement as Charlie Weasley swings by, guiding a giddy Professor McGonagall—a sight she thought she’d never see—around the dance floor. The tempo of the next song picks up, but not enough for swaying to be considered unusual, so she and Ron remain steady at their pace. 

Ron’s hands glide slowly up and down her spine, eliciting tiny goose pimples along the expanse of his touch. He’s remained silent throughout, they both have, but as his fingers slide to trace the scar on the inside of her arm, Hermione wonders what he’s possibly thinking at this moment. 

“Tell me what’s going on in that big, beautiful brain of yours.” Ron’s husky murmur, right next to her ear, catches her off guard. He knows her so well, and she shouldn’t be surprised that he notices her deep in thought. 

For a beat, she says nothing. They continue to rock side to side, cheek to cheek, as Hermione mulls over the voices in her head screaming at her that it’s time. She can’t put off asking about their future just because she’s afraid of not having the answer she wants. Even if she specializes in making critical decisions based on raw fear.

Hermione pulls back slightly to meet Ron’s gaze, noticing his eyebrows knitted together in fierce contemplation. His long locks of ginger hair fall into his eyes, and she fights the desire to sweep them away, only mildly annoyed that Ron had ignored her request for him to cut his hair prior to the wedding.

“What do you mean?” she finally works up the courage to ask. 

Ron scans her face as if he’s waiting for the glimmer of truth to shine through her eyes. “I know you’re happy for Harry and Ginny. I know you are pleased with how all of this came together with such little time to plan.”

It may seem like Ron is only stating the obvious, but it’s clear that he’s trying to rule out possible conclusions. 

“That’s Harry and Ginny,” she agrees. “Always spontaneous, those two.”

He squeezes her elbow. “But…”

“But what?”

“There’s something else.”

What is she afraid of? Judgment or ridicule? She knows Ron better than that. He would never make her feel embarrassed over sharing her feelings. He may not always understand them right away, but to be fair, neither does she. 

She needs to be completely honest with herself here. She needs to be completely honest with him. 

“We should talk.”

Any hint of a smile on his face flashes away faster than a lightning bolt. His mouth opens, poised to respond, but she places a hand on his chest. 

“No, no. It’s nothing bad, I promise. At least, I hope it’s not.”

No. Stop it, Hermione. She’s in a good place with Ron. A really, really good place. Why would she want to ruin that? All of the bells ringing in her head warn her to keep quiet. 

His hand tightens in hers. They continue to sway, oblivious to the other couples nearby, but Ron’s movement stiffens. “Hermione, what’s going on?”

It’s time for a serious discussion, but is this really the right place? Judging by the defined crease between Ron’s lips, he’s decided that it is and she can’t convince him otherwise. 

Before Hermione can speak, a tug on her dress redirects her attention towards the ground. Victoire, Bill and Fleur’s young daughter, beams up at her. The small girl fiddles with the ends of her long, blonde hair, pulled back into a seamless plait. 

“You’re gorgeous,” Victoire says through a toothy grin, highlighting the adorable dimples on her cheeks.

Hermione’s heart pitter patters in her chest. Not just pretty. Gorgeous. 

“Aren’t you a clever one?” Ron bends over, giving the part-Veela’s hair a tousle. 

“Uncle Ron!” Victoire squeals, swatting his hand away. Turning back to Hermione, she offers one last parting wave before skipping off, calling over her shoulder, “Bye, Aunt ‘Mione!”

Hermione’s knees buckle, very aware that Ron’s grip on her is the only reason why she remains standing. 

Aunt. She called me her Aunt. 

For a young girl, it’s not surprising. When Victoire sees her Uncle Ron, Hermione is usually in tow. It’s only natural that she draws that conclusion. But still, it doesn’t stop Hermione’s heart from skipping a beat. 

“She’s right, you know,” Ron murmurs, and Hermione’s head snaps to meet his gaze. The way he is looking at her, his eyes twinkling…she swallows hard, diverting her eyes to her shoes once more. 

She’s right. She’s right. She’s right. 

“Hey.” Ron hooks a gentle thumb under Hermione’s chin, lifting her head back up to eye level. “What are you getting insecure about?”

“I’m not.”

He raises a questionable eyebrow at that blatant lie, and Hermione’s shoulders sag in defeat. “I just—I don’t know. Maybe it’s the atmosphere. Being here, at a wedding, seeing Harry and Ginny so happy, and—Ron, it’s okay if you want to wait, or maybe our relationship isn’t what you expected…”

She’s rambling now, and Ron is gaping at her like she’s morphed into a Blast-Ended Skrewt, but she can’t seem to convey what she really means in a single sentence. She wants to shout I’m ready for you to propose, you dolt. But the way he tilts his head, a smile curling up around the edge of his lips, makes her wonder if she even has to.

Ron leans closer, brushing his nose against Hermione’s before pulling back mere inches. She can taste cinnamon from the shots of Firewhiskey he’s undoubtedly consumed this evening, his breath hot on her face. 

“I would have thought it was obvious by now.” His voice drops low, as if he’s sharing a secret just for her. He grasps her hip, pulling her a fraction closer. “But in case it’s not, let me make myself very clear. I love you. I am very happy with where we are, but also, you are it for me, Hermione.”

The expression on his face is so tender and warm, she can’t believe that he’s looking at her like that. Everything he says points to you’re delusional, you barmy witch, and it’s suddenly sobering, despite her champagne-filled musings. 

“Oh.”

Ron chuckles. “You sound surprised.”

“It’s just,” Hermione bites her lip, shrugging a shy shoulder. “We’ve never really discussed it, and it occurred to me recently, well, maybe there’s a reason why. Maybe you weren’t sure—well, nevermind that now.”

“Are you joking?” Ron’s eyes bulge out. “I was trying not to pressure you.”

Hermione tucks a lock of delicate hair behind her ear. “Well, you don’t need to worry about that.”

The comment must please Ron, because his trademark lopsided smile turns into an all out grin. “Okay. Note taken.”

“Okay.”

And somehow he vanishes every single one of her fears in a matter of seconds, as if it is really that simple. Perhaps it is. They could have avoided a lot of frustration if they were open and honest with each other from the beginning. But still, they wouldn’t have had the chance to move apart and come back together, like they always do, over and over again. 

“So…” Hermione curls her fingers around Ron’s neck as she buries her face into his chest. “Are we doing this?”

“Hold on there.” He plants a kiss into her hair before resting his chip atop her head. “Trust me.”

A rush of excitement floods her bones, receiving Ron’s hint loud and clear. Of course she trusts him. It’s the foundation of any successful relationship, and beyond their minor hiccup during the Horcrux Hunt—that definitely does not need to be addressed ever again—she’s never once questioned Ron’s loyalties. Not to Harry, and certainly not to her. 

Ron spins Hermione around, pressing her back against his chest. His arms envelop her into a circle of warmth. She falls into his embrace, closing her eyes while releasing a content sigh. When his nose nuzzles her cheek, she swivels her head just enough to meet his lips, which feel impossibly soft against her own. His kiss is dizzying, all-consuming, and so Ron. 

“Oi!” Harry yells, bursting through the warm glow they’ve cast around themselves. He dips Ginny in his arms. “Stop trying to steal the spotlight at my wedding, yeah?”

Ron disregards his best friend completely, intertwining his fingers with Hermione’s as he gives her a twirl. She lets out a breathless giggle, amazed at how effortlessly her boyfriend spins her around. Full of surprises, isn’t he?

“Keep dancing with me, gorgeous?” 

“Always.”

#romione #Romione fanfic #Romione ficlet #Romione drabble #Ron x hermione #Ron weasley #Hermione granger #Ron Weasley x Hermione granger #wedding #minor Harry Potter x ginny weasley #cruel summer fic fest

[thelashjedi]

Just Friends...

Hermione wrapped her scarf tightly around her neck in an effort to ward off the mid-November chill. She and Ginny were on their way to Hogsmeade to meet up with Harry and Ron. It was the first Hogsmeade weekend and Ginny was very eager to reunite with her boyfriend. Harry sent an owl explaining that Ron was coming too and asking if Hermione could join them. Ginny — annoyed that her brother was crashing her date — begged Hermione to come along and keep Ron occupied so she could get in some quality time with her chosen Chosen One. Hermione agreed. It was strange being back at Hogwarts without Harry and Ron and she had missed her friends.

She regretted her decision the moment they found them. Both wizards held out bouquets of flowers. Ginny took hers cheerfully, burying her nose in dahlias and honeysuckle, before wrapping her arms around Harry and snogging him as though they were alone, rather than in the middle of a crowded street. Hermione took her tulips gingerly.

“Thank you, Ron. But this was unnecessary.”

“Yeah, well. I thought beautiful flowers for a beautiful girl.” His cheeks flushed and his hand was on the back of his neck as he spoke.

Hermione swallowed. “Ron, I —“

“I was thinking we could all go to Madam Puddifoots,” he interrupted. “I reserved us a table. Well, two tables actually.” Ron grinned at her, sheepishly.

Hermione felt her heart plummet and she sighed. “Ron, before I left for school we agreed that we would be just friends.”

Ron’s expression soured. “No. We didn’t agree to anything. You did all the talking.”

Hermione’s sympathy morphed into irritation. “Well, I would have to agree for us to be anything other than friends. And I don’t. I don’t feel that way about you, Ron. Friendship is all I have to offer.” She pressed the bouquet of flowers back into his hands and then took a step back, widening the distance between them.

Ginny, who had stopped snogging Harry so she could properly eavesdrop, piped up. “Besides, Hermione’s already got a boyfriend.”

Ron looked at her aghast. “Already?”

Hermione bit her lip, nodding.

Ron sighed. “Fine, ‘Mione. It’s fine. I can accept when I’m beaten. Just tell me it’s not the ferret and we can all go get a drink at the Hog’s Head. Maybe say hello to Aberforth.”

Hermione’s mouth was set in a grim line.

“‘Mione, what’s wrong? Kneazle got your tongue?”

“You just said you didn’t want me to tell you. Make up your bloody mind,” she grumbled.

A look of dawning comprehension bloomed across Ron’s face. “No!”

“Oh yes,” said Ginny with a sly smile. “Although she swore up and down she and Malfoy were ‘just friends’ too right up until they got caught snogging in the library by Madam Prince.”

Hermione’s cheeks reddened as Harry and Ron both gawped at her. She threw her hands in the air. “What? You both know how much I like books. Let’s go get a drink.”

“I’m having several.” Ron said, rubbing his forehead. “Does this mean we have to be nice to the git?”

“It does. But he also has to be nice to you and I assure you, he will hate that.”

“Oh,” said Ron, brightening up a touch.  “I guess the news isn’t all bad then.  Harry — you’re buying.”

#dramione #dramione drabble #dramione ficlet #dhr #dhr drabble #draco x hermione #draco malfoy x hermione granger #hermione granger #ginny weasley #ron weasley #harry potter #8th year #author: thelashjedi #thelashjedi

[queenofonions]

Love in the Afternoon

Summary: A tender moment between Luna and Ginny.

Ginny fell from the portkey vortex in a dizzied heap. She lay there for several minutes, catching her breath and soaking in the heat from the high afternoon sun. The grass was warm under her hands, leaching away the lingering chill from the sodden quidditch uniform she wore.

The light summer rain they had been practicing in had whipped into a torrential beast that exhausted everyone, but it was only when lightening had obliterated the snitch that the captain finally called it and sent the team home.

Ginny had not even bothered to change before activating her personal portkey. Her wand was strapped to her forearm and she could have easily cast a drying spell over herself, but the relief of being home after such a wretched morning made her limbs and mind pleasantly heavy.

She rested the backs of her hands against her eyes to block the sun. The scent of flowers wafted over her and she took a few moments to breathe it in.

Just a few moments...

...

...

Luna closed the basket on the plimpies she had caught, took up her fishing net and made her way back home, enjoying the feel of the mud by the lake as it squished between her bare toes. She wore a gauzy white summer dress in deference to the heat of the day and left her long blonde hair loose and flowing down her back, her wand tucked behind her ear as usual.

It was a short walk back to the rook-shaped house, where she stowed away her net and set the basket on a picnic table. She summoned a fillet knife from the kitchen and directed it to clean and prepare the plimpies.

As she tucked her wand behind her ear again, she heard the bass-toned gonging of the windchime that announced the activation of a homing portkey.

"Ginny," she breathed, her face beaming, and at once headed down the lane toward the stretch of meadow half a kilometer from the house. Luna easily spotted the small daisies that blanketed the warded area and felt the magic wash over as she passed through, disappearing from view to the outside world.

The sight of Ginny dozing amongst the flowers made Luna's heart clench sweetly in her chest.

She sank down onto the grass next to her and tilted her head quizzically as she looked Ginny over, noticing the state of her uniform and the deep pink of her cheeks and nose.

She dried the uniform with a wave of her wand down the length of Ginny's body, but the redhead did not wake. One kneepad hung loose so she gently unlaced it completely and transfigured it into an extra large beach umbrella to shade them both from the sun.

Luna looked around her and plucked a handful small daisies, placing them one by one in Ginny's hair like a crown. Her fingers stroked through a long lock of red hair and lifted it to brush the silkiness across her own cheek, then her lips. She flicked the end of the lock softly across Ginny's nose and finally Ginny stirred, scrunching her nose and blinking sleepily.

The sight of Luna made Ginny smile and her heart swoop with delight. "Luna, love," she breathed and caught the blonde's hand up to kiss her fingers.

Luna hummed in pleasure and leaned over to press sweet kisses over Ginny's cheeks, forehead, nose, and lips.

Ginny cupped her cheek and pulled her closer, taking the kiss deeper, sipping at her lips and licking into her mouth until Luna was draped over her body and they were both breathing heavily.

Luna pulled back a little and shifted against Ginny with a slight frown. "I'm glad I dried your uniform, but it is quite uncomfortable to lie on."

Ginny freed her wand from its strap and grinned. "I can take care of that." A swish and twirl of the wand removed that obstacle completely.

Luna's eyes danced merrily, "Oh, thank you, that's much better." She stretched her body out over Ginny's again and sighed dreamily as their curves fit snugly against each other. "Mmmm, that's just lovely."

Ginny laughed, wrapped her arms tight around the woman she loved and kissed her again amongst the flowers.

AO3 (pen name Xedra on AO3)

#harry potter fanfic #ginny weasley #luna lovegood #ginny x luna #my fic #ficlet #i made this #fluff #romance #xedra

[four2andnew]

Weasley Pub Night

A quick little ficlet with a view into the Weasley sibling dynamics, where Ginny loves being "just another brother" but has some news that's going to mess that all up.

Read on AO3 or below

Rate (T) for language

It’s Weasley Pub Night, once a quarter all the Weasley siblings got together sans spouses and parents and got pissed off their arses. Ginny loves Weasley Pub Night, despite being the only female of the bunch. It’s the one night where her brothers forget to censor their raunchy conversations, the one night where they treat her like just another brother and not their baby sister.

But she is about to fuck it up.

“I’ll get the first round, what’s everyone want?”

Ron narrows his eyes up at her suspiciously, resting his elbow on the worn wood and pointing a finger at her accusingly.

“You never offer the first round. Who are you trying to sweeten up?”

Ginny scoffs and rolls her shoulders back, “Maybe I’m just trying to be nice, you prat.”

Her brothers boo at her. George chimes in, “No, he’s right. The only times you offer first round are when you want something from one of us.”

She closes her eyes and sighs, “Do you fucks want drinks or not?”

They quickly shout their orders, lest their sister’s temper prove too much for her attempted bribery, and Ginny trounces off to the bar, returning with a tray balanced on her hand like a professional. She tries to hide her gillywater as she passes out the remaining drinks, but Charlie catches her.

“You’re fucking pregnant again!”

Ginny collapses in her chair and bangs her forehead on the table with a groan, her remaining brothers take this for confirmation and begin throwing chips at her with incoherent shouts.

“Didn’t James just turn three? At least Albus already had his first birthday, unlike last time you got pregnant.” (Ginny didn’t even lift her face off the table to give Percy the finger)

“Christ, Ginny, doesn’t Potter know how to cast a contraceptive charm?” (This came from Bill, which Ginny thought was particularly rich, considering he had three children himself.)

“Dammit woman, if you two would just keep your hands to yourself! Now Harry’s going to be a right mess at work.”

“I can’t help it! He’s just so fucking fit!”

Her exclamation is met with wrinkled noses, fake retching, and more chips thrown in her face, which she promptly scoops onto her plate and starts eating. She points a chip threateningly at all of her brothers.

“Mum doesn’t know yet, so you all know nothing, you understand? If Mum finds out you found out before her she’ll have kittens, kill me, and take my children for herself.”

She can tell they are all exceedingly uncomfortable with her being pregnant, it’s just such irrefutable evidence that she is not only a girl, but a girl with an active sex life. They try their best to ignore this and even make a few jokes at Ginny’s expense. When her brothers start getting a little too wound up at her husband’s expense, who certainly isn’t here to defend himself, Ginny just smirks and starts waxing poetic about how delicious his chest tastes after sex and they all immediately lay off.

It’s not the same Weasley Pub Night revelry she usually experiences, but she knows it’s only temporary. Once her newest little one makes their appearance and she can join in on the drinking, her brothers will go back to pretending her children were dropped off by the faeries and Weasley Pub Nights will return to their former glory just like they did after her previous two pregnancies.

In the meantime, she’s going home to her incredibly fit husband who quite enjoys the fact that she’s a girl with an active sex life.

#hp fanfic #ficlet #ginny weasley #harry x ginny #weasley siblings #sibling bonding #ginny just wants to be one of the boys #but also really enjoys her super fit husband

[twig-tea]

SHIPPER TAG GAME

Tagged by @lurkingshan and @stuffnonsenseandotherthings to dig into the vault. Friends, I have been Perpetually Online since 1995, when that meant I had to haunt my school library computer at lunchtime, so this is going to be for the fellow Olds. Sorry in advance for the HP mentions.

1. What ship were you completely obsessed with when you were a teenager, but now you don't care anymore?

Have I let any ships go? Hmm. I'll go with Mulder/Scully from X-Files. Watching now, they should definitely not end up together lol

2. Which ship would you consider your first one?

Sailor Mercury/Sailor Jupiter from Pretty Soldier Sailor Moon. I. Was. Obsessed. This ship hit me like a ton of bricks in I want to say 6th or 7th grade.

I watched the show as it aired with English dubs, found out the episodes we got were censored, immediately fell into my completionist ways, went to the Asian mall (it was literally pan-Asian with stuff from Japan, China, Taiwain, Korea, etc.) and got definitely not official VCDs with Mandarin subtitles, and would sit with friends who spoke Mandarin and had them translate the subs to English for me (I say this like I forced them, but they offered because they were my friends and they also felt passionately about people seeing the uncensored show). I then learned how to Internet and would trawl for fanpages of the manga (it would take 20 minutes to load an image at the time, so rather than full scanlations I'd get walls of text describing what happened with maybe a single panel illustration). Uranus and Neptune were fantastic, but I already had Ami and Makoto aka Mercury and Jupiter long before I got to the Uranus/Neptune episodes (or the Sailor Stars manga arc).

3. Your first fanfic belonged to which couple?

Definitely Sailor Moon fanfic was the first fic I read. It was an easy step from finding fan summaries of the chapters not yet out in English > finding fan sites with fanfic on them, back before we had archives or even decent search engines and you had to just find the sites you needed through links from other sites. It was like a whole new world of possibilities opening up. The first real fanfic community I was in was Harry Potter.

In terms of first fic I wrote, I am not a writer; I've only ever written a small handful of not worth mentioning ficlets featuring the Kirk/Spock ship (Star Trek TOS).

4. Do you remember the first couple you saw a fanart over?

Oh it was likely Serena/Tuxedo Mask from Sailor Moon and it was in person, because I had friends who got me into anime and manga early and they were artists who drew a lot of fanart.

5. Did you ever get into ship discourse?

Friends, I had a Livejournal. It was impossible not to get into ship discourse.

6. Did you used to have any no-otp or have it currently?

I am going to echo @stuffnonsenseandotherthings and @lurkingshan and say I was dead-set against Hermione as a ship with any of the men in Harry Potter (Hermione/Luna or Hermione/Ginny, though, we could talk), and I also really disliked Draco/Ron. I also am not here for Spock/McCoy (Star Trek), and I don't really enjoy Stucky (as in Captain America/Winter Soldier or Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes from Marvel).

OH and can I be a hater on main for a second? The first couple that I remember hating as a thing was probably Jo and Professor Bhaer from Little Women; I was SO MAD they married in the end. I felt very validated years later when I read that the author Lousia May Alcott was forced by her publisher to marry Jo off and made up the couple out of spite.

7. Who were the couple in the last fanfic you read?

The last fic I read was a Word of Honour modern AU pairing Wen Ke Xing/Zhou Zishu in which they rescued stray kittens.

SInce I started this, I've also read a One Piece Luffy/Zoro fic (and that's not even my favourite ship--I've been a Zoro/Sanji girlie since the early 2000s! I'm weak for banter.)

8. Currently, do you have any OTPs?

I have so many. SO many. Truly. I don't even know where to start with this question! I follow several AO3 tags and fanfic writers that I get regular fic updates from. Most of my OTPs are either canon (from queer/BL/GL media) or the most popular ship (I feel very lucky that my taste is so basic). There is no one couple I love the most. Just going to throw a dart at the board: From BL, the one I come back to a lot is Hira/Kiyoi in Utsukushii Kare, because their dynamic is so intense.

9. Is there any couple that, to this day, you are extremely mad about not getting together?

Hmm. That's what fandom is for, so not really? I usually get more annoyed when people do get together that I wish had stayed platonic (never forgiving Pacific Rim for that kiss, it was so unnecessary). And I'm extremely mad about censorship, i.e. couples that DID get together but we didn't get to see it for whatever reason (see e.g. Uranus and Neptune from Sailor Moon Sailor Stars; Chinese danmei novel live-action adaptations). Otherwise there are lots of these but I just read the fanfic and recover. I'll say I'm still annoyed Buffy didn't get to have with Faith what she had with Spike though. Their chemistry was off the charts.

10. Is there any ship you used to dislike but now you think they are kind of interesting?

This is such a hard question. I came around a little on Lan Xichen/Jiang Cheng from MDZS/the Untamed, though it's still not my fave (it's a soft no not a hard no). I'll also give you an oldie: Andie McPhee and Pacey from Dawson's Creek. I hated Andie's character back in the day but now I like her character but really dislike how she was used in the show, which isn't the same thing. And I actually really liked how she and Pacey worked together.

I'll also give you a BL one: Kurosawa and Haruta in Ossan's Love. Ossan's Love s1 & 3 it was clear they were not OTP so that's a bit irrelevant anyway, but it's much less clear in s2 (the AU season) and the first time I watched it I wasn't sure how I felt about the way that season ended as much as I loved the season as a whole. I like it more every time I rewatch.

11. Do you have any ship that, in the past, was considered normal but now you would be cancelled over?

LOL I am with everyone else on the Brian/Justin train but since that's been said twice I'll go with something else. I was a big Harry/Draco shipper back in the day, which would now probably get me cancelled for shipping someone with his bully (though a significant part of the fun of that ship was about how Draco was such an ineffectual bully...but I digress), in addition to of course how the author's transphobia ruined the whole thing for all of us (fanfic doesn't make her any money, so I don't have a problem continuing to read it in theory, but it's left a sour note over my experience and makes any engagement in that fandom less fun).

12. What was your favorite crack ship?

I was one of those foolish people obsessed with Hawkeye/Coulson before we'd even seen them face-to-face or knew almost anything about MCU Clint Barton. I still read fanfic of that ship even though it's been fully jossed and makes no sense at all anymore. Ok one more, I really love the very small Breakfast Club fandom shipping Brian/John and Claire/Allison. I've read the few fics on AO3 for the queer pair ghost ships in that show multiple times.

13. Who is the couple you read more fanfics of?

Of all time, I've probably read the most Kirk/Spock fanfic. But that's due to the length of time I've been into the ship, the amount of time it's existed, and its popularity. I still read Kirk/Spock regularly.

14. What most of your ships usually have in common?

Honestly most can be boiled down to grumpy/sunshine pairs in which both are very competent in specific ways and both are hiding crippling self esteem issues behind their grumpy or sunshine-ness, and have strong but differing moral codes that they each respect in one another (and is usually where the feelings start). Banter is a must. I am admittedly also here for height difference in my ships. Double-plus bonus for terrible communicators who learn to understand one another's particular communication quirks.

Perfect encapsulation of this dynamic is Danny/Steve from Hawaii Five-0 (listen that show was copaganda trash but the fanfic was fun as hell).

15. What do you absolutely hate in a ship?

Power dynamics that remain unaddressed as part of the story. Hate to love that isn't earned over time. When the relationship makes each other worse rather than better. When they never learn to trust one another. When one of them is in it as part of a savior complex and that doesn't get challenged or worked through. When only one of them has a personality. There's very little that I'd say is a hard no in terms of dynamics or setup for me, but it has to be handled well, and sometimes I don't have the energy to give something the benefit of the doubt.

tagging: @respectthepetty @wen-kexing-apologist @so-much-yet-to-learn @ginnymoonbeam @bengiyo with as always no pressure, plus anyone who sees this who wants to fill it out, consider yourself tagged and let me know so I can see it!

#tag game #thank you for tagging me #i am not tagging all of these shows lol #typed so that i can stop thinking it #I keep sitting on this because I think I'll think of others and will regret not including them but man it's just tumblr

[itsnotaphasemomitsanobsession]

To all the tropes I've loved before

✨ Quality fic recs under the cut ✨

✨ If I could read only one trope for the rest of my life, it would be soulmate fic. A treasure of unfounded proportions ✨

Soulmate fics:

Vortex (T): TW: anxiety, brief mention of self harm, nonconsensual drug use (medical abuse in the form of over prescribing medicine). I've read this one several times because of how lovely I find it. The gentle love between Harry and Draco just does something to my cold dead heart. This fic has it all: Auror Harry, Down and out Draco, Teacher Draco, fluff, angst, and just the right amount of soulmate tomfoolery. Read also the authors part two of the fic: Riptide(M).

Everything a Word can Mean (T): Everyone is born with the nickname their soulmate uses for them tattooed on their body, Harry's just so happens to be something everyone calls him. I love this little fic so much, it's really sweet and fluffy and everything you need for a Saturday morning read!

Punch-drunk fingerprints (T): Cute and fluffy fic where if you touch your soulmate it leaves a mark on them. Draco just so happens to get pulled through a corridor with Harry tugging along.

Eighth year fics:

✨ These fics are either the sweetest most fluffiest fics or they are the most heart wrenching fics of all time and I love them with every fiber of my being ✨

Swish and flick (T): If there's one thing to know about me, it's that I LOVE roommate fics and this is a sweet one. Harry and Draco in this are really sweet and I feel like this fic needs to be on everyone's TBR right the frick now.

Inside Your Mind (E): TW: PTSD, use of sex as a coping mechanism (it does get better later), severe bullying. Coming back 8th year has been hard on Draco, but Greg is there to "help" by acting as bodyguard. Harry is pretty sure that's not really helping any. It's a sweet, sad and lovely fic that shows the love of friends and their willingness to keep you safe, but also how those friendships can blossom into something better and healthier. An absolutely beautiful fic and top notch smut if you partake!

Good Company (T): Such a sweet fic of Harry and Draco being friends in their 8th year. Harry feeling like the third wheel to Ron and Hermione falls into a friendship with Draco and Draco is just trying to get through the year. It's very very cute and I'm a big fan!

Lessons in Grace and Decorum (not rated): TW: power dynamic related consent problems, forced proximity, use of torture on purpose and on accident, self worth issues and depression. This is an oldie but a goodie, you will have to read it through a Google doc but it's really really good. Draco sees his dead mom and she gives him advice on how to make friends. It's sweet, sad as fuck and I've read it so many times I just have it permanently downloaded onto my phone.

Quiet (E): TW: implied sexual violence and abuse. Draco and Harry just vibe in the Slytherin common room and drink, gaze longingly at each other, maybe do some homework and play quidditch. There's also a cute little ficlet that is in the same story line, it's cute and it's ginny x pansy (big fan) so check out peripheral.

The In-betweens (T): Harry and Draco are roommates in 8th year. Surprisingly they get along pretty well, Draco sings dirty dancing in the shower and Harry likes it. I love this fic so much and I hope each and every one of you puts this on your TBR right this instant!!!!!

Job fics:

✨ Nothing better than older gay men finding love in what they do and also finding love in each other. Extra points if Harry isn't an Auror and Draco has an odd creative job ✨

The Snitch Maker (T): Draco makes snitches and Harry works for the Quidditch Union for the Administration and Betterment of the British League and its Endeavours. It's really cute and a little silly, Draco is very fun in this and Harry is an ex-auror with a disability. It's very sweet and worth the read

Chasing Shadows (E): TW: homophobia, death, and internalized homophobia. Draco works in a muggle bar and hasn't been in the wizard world for awhile, Harry works as an Auror and his next case is the death of Lucius Malfoy. Very very very good fic, features Harry coming to terms with his sexuality, an openly homosexual Draco and a series of fun OCS that make the fic very charming and worth the read.

Draco from the Wireless show (T): Very much a Welcome to Night Vale type of vibe. It's interesting and funny and just slightly odd which I love a whole lot. Draco in this is silly and a bit of a hermit and Harry is just trying to figure out why this town is so odd? I recommend this for days where you really need something silly to lift your spirits!

✨ please please please make sure you comment and leave kudos on the fics that you enjoy to let the authors know their worth!!!! ✨

#drarry #harry potter x draco malfoy #hpdm #drarry fic recs #drarry fic #drarry fanfiction

[nuatthebeach]

you knew that i'm a mastermind, and now you're mine

comment here on AO3.

mastermind may be an unlikely choice from Taylor Swift's Midnights, but i hope this short fic explains why it's the right one. more on that here.

gifted to @corneliaavenue for ranting with me about this damn album and finding new ways to apply its songs to hinny every day.

At first glance, the press can feel quite irritating.

Not in the she's-Harry-bloody-Potter's-wife sort of way - though there is plenty of that kind too, don't get her wrong - but in the you-are-famous-so-you-must-be-asked-all-sorts-of-intrusive-questions kind of way.

Over the years, she's come up with methods to circumvent those, and she finds herself fairly satisfied with the results.

Ginny flicks her eyes to her watch and claps her palms together. "Right, you lot. You know the rules: one hour, free for all," she raises her eyebrows in question, "Except for?"

"Respect boundaries, no use of passive aggressive questions, don't bring up Mr. Potter, limit discussions to Quidditch but deviations are allowed if not intrusively personal," the small press group chants obediently before one adult with rough skin tacks on, "And absolutely zero tolerance for any - and I quote from you directly - '1950s shite that implies anything about being the Chosen One's baby factory.' We should know better, and we should be better."

She grins, eyes brightening. "Correct, Peter! You learn quick! How are the kids, by the way? Sarah finally crawling?"

"Yes, Mrs. Potter, but we've got a new problem, unfortunately. Changing her nappy has become a bit difficult."

Ginny can tell. The man's hairline is already beginning to recede at the tender age of thirty eight, poor thing. She's not too much of a cow to point that out, of course.

"Ah, well, changing a nappy is a two person job," she states instead, "Maybe get Meghan to hold her arms down?"

"That won't stop her kicking, I suppose. But it is a start."

"And you, Sully?" she turns her attention to the lanky man standing in the back right, the words 'Highway to Hell' spilled colorfully on his shirt, ever the lover of Muggle music that he is. "Did you try that Indian restaurant I told you about last meeting? Remember we talked about expanding your palate to something a bit more…tasteful?"

He smiles a gap-filled smile, his remaining enamel a perfect match to the withering gray of his hair. At least one can't sue The Daily Prophet for ageism, she thinks off-handedly.

"Yes, I did. The curries were to die for. I've got a recommendation for you too, if you'd like."

Remembering his past insistence that she should give a taste for haggis, a quite fascinating Scottish delicacy of a sheep's heart, liver, and lungs mixed intricately with oatmeal and onions, Ginny fights to keep the smile on her face.

"Er, yeah, Sully, let's circle back to that, for sure."

One woman in the front raises her brightly manicured hand, practically bouncing in her eagerness to ask her first question. Ginny obliges, noting that she's among the newer, younger faces. "Hi, Gi - er, Mrs. Potter…I'm Jasmine! I've been cheering for you since your starting position with the Harpies! As someone who has also grown up in a testosterone-fueled house, I can tell you that seeing you earn a place in every league, every tournament you've been in has just - I am honor - I mean, you're just so amazing, and I - fuck, okay, I'll wrap this up."

Ginny laughs, startled but pleasantly so. She mouths a quick 'thank you,' touched beyond words.

Jasmine takes a deep breath and struggles to morph her expression to the likes of the other serious faces around her, self-consciously tucking a piece of chestnut hair behind her ear. Ginny wishes she wouldn't. Her energy is refreshing. She promises to tell her this one day.

"Since your projected wins have been accurate thus far, my question is, what do the stats say about the likelihood of the upcoming game resulting in the Chudley Cannons ranking above the Ballycastle Bats for the first time in seven years? They've certainly pulled their weight this season."

"Well, if you asked my brother, he'd say 100%, but since I'm obligated to tell the objective truth…" They all laugh appreciatively, and Jasmine's smile returns to the avid nature it once was. "On a more informative note, though, I'd say the realistic chances are…"

And this goes on for a while, the push and pull of conversation and banter, like gentle waves yielding to an easy tide, and this, this is the energy Ginny wishes she had been surrounded with throughout her professional life so far. She had never once blamed this particular lack on Harry, of course, for only a dimwit would believe he had somehow orchestrated this whole thing.

And if he still believes this sometimes, he's her dimwit, so he doesn't really count.

And it's not like she cares about what other people think.

Though it is another thing entirely to say it can't be a pain in the arse sometimes. A nail in an already infected foot.

But she refuses to let that bring her down.

It's her life, and she weaves the web of her own destiny. After all, she's spent enough time letting people use shears to tear them down.

"Mrs. Potter, I don't believe you ever addressed your oldest rumor back in your Hogwarts days?"

Ah, she spoke too soon. The Shear Personified.

"It's been overheard from several of your old classmates that Mr. Potter has identified you in his Amortentia during potions class." Oh, Jeffree, don't do it. You were quiet for so long. As you should have remained. "I mean, has there ever been an instance where you slipped in a love potion, let's say, in his pumpkin juice during breakfast? At least once?" I could have introduced you to Aunt Muriel, and you could have been miserable gossips together. "It's just a bit hard to believe - "

She doesn't even have to open her mouth because all of a sudden, the small crowd starts to chatter angrily, glaring at the admittedly social-cues-lacking middle-aged man.

"Boo," gap-toothed Sully chants, throwing his unlit cigarette butt in an aimless direction.

"Poor form, mate," Peter's head shaking causes a child's toy to go off in his nappy bag. "You should know the rules by now."

"Get. Out." This high-pitched but firm squeak is from Jasmine herself, and it's honestly more effective than any of the group's efforts thus far.

Ginny looks around at the mayhem, touched that her little fan circle is responding so strongly on her behalf.

It means the world, truly, considering that she'd gotten comfortable with the accusations and hate for so long, she forgot it had ever bothered her.

The turn of her lips, though slight, is full of awe, taking in the sight around her.

When the din finally quiets enough, she catches the end of Jeffree's defensive words: "All I am saying is that they were adolescents when they first got together, and reports say - "

"Who gives a damn what reports say?!"

"Er, thank you, Jasmine. Reports say that he was soon on the run for months, and - and - " he falters when he sees Ginny's cutthroat eyes, clearing his throat, "even at the last game, there are images of Mr. Potter staring in a 'daze that rivals a sacrificial victim ensnared by an enchantress,' to quote your own colleague Rita Skeeter - "

"Well, I'm glad Rita finds me enchanting," Ginny cuts in dryly, "But what are these images that you keep babbling about? At least have the gall to put your money where your mouth is before throwing accusations in the middle of a private press meeting."

With irritatingly un-shaky hands, Jeffree pulls out the "Exclusive Celebrity Papers," a Rita Skeeter new edition - as if she's written anything else in the past - and jabs at the pictures with one stubby finger.

She narrows her eyes, observing grainy-image-Harry gaping at grainy-image-Ginny, who had been commentating that day for the recent Appleby Arrows and Tutshill Tornados match, his gaze utterly distracted and…unfocused.

That is peculiar, Ginny wonders. Was it possible that he was stupefied earlier that day at work? No, the spell doesn't usually last that long, and he would have told her if he was, and besides, she's seen that look before she just can't place it -

And then, Ginny sees where exactly he's ogling at, and everything immediately clicks together.

"I know love potions are supposed to bring about feelings of lust, but I hate to break it to you, those trousers are known to do the same."

Her crowd laughs appreciatively, and Jasmine lets out a hearty whoop.

At this point, Jeffree's cheeks are a deep maroon.

"That - that's not very appropriate."

Ginny rolls her eyes. "Neither are your questions. I have a fit arse. My husband knows this. The sun rises in the east. Celery is a shite vegetable. Life goes on."

"Oh, please."

Great, here comes Ginny's least favorite part of these press meetings. She had been foolish to think it was put in the past, but alas.

When a man feels hurt that their ego isn't stroked, they spend their time feeling the need to let everyone know, thinking they'll care.

Like a child crying for attention. Only with these types of men, it's not a phase.

"Let's not pretend that everyone here is not wondering the same thing," the prat starts, "What, you think they care what restaurant taste you have? Your daycare advice? We all came here for one thing. A story."

This sends the room in a heated flurry again, but Ginny cuts it short, her biting remark a crisp breeze on a two-in-the-morning walk home.

"I don't need a love potion for my own husband to want me. And I don't care what you think your opinion is."

She skips, of course, the rant thrumming deep within her veins about how she, of all people, would know on a personal level what it's like to lose autonomy and would be the last to take it away from someone else. Such an obvious argument would only go over this dense sack's head.

Besides, she doesn't owe anyone any explanation.

Instead, she settles the building friction in the room with a cool: "But if you dare insult anyone in this room again, you'll find that the next story you cover is the one outside the toilets of the Ministry. And spoiler alert, entries into the departments are not all they use them for."

The rest of the press - no, her friends - cheers in delighted unison, Jasmine going so far as to hold the door for Jeffree's exit.

Sully swipes Rita's paper from his hand and rips it in two.

xxx

Harry laughs, listening attentively to Ginny's recount of the entire debacle, peppering remarks of "it is a great arse" and "if I see Jeffree covering the toilet entries I'll be sure to leave the seat up" and "ah, classic Sully. Maybe we should try the haggis he's always talking about," to which Ginny replies "or maybe we shouldn't" and grins as he affirms "yeah, maybe we shouldn't."

When their low-lit living room falls to a hush, Harry leans into Ginny's side, refilling her wine without her asking, and she ponders at how being with him just fits.

Like dominoes cascading in a line.

She puts her glass down and snuggles under his chin, preferring his clean scent as her method of intoxication instead.

"It's amazing," he breaks the companionable silence after a while, rubbing her back.

She lifts her head curiously.

"Only you could turn around a whole group of paparazzi and make them not only respect your boundaries but adore you. As a person. You just win over people so easily."

Ginny laughs and playfully nudges her elbow into his side, pressing her forehead to his. She knows he's really saying You win me over too, you know. Every day.

And all the rich colors of the grass around the world can't capture the natural comfort that his sage eyes make her feel.

She just has one final, teasing question to ask him.

"I mean, are you really surprised?"

His smirk is wide.

"Not in the least."

#hinny ficlet #harry x ginny ficlet #hinny fluff #ginny deals with press and it's hot

[merlinsbudgiesmugglers]

Fic Masterlist

Figured I should finally write a masterlist of my fics

General A Round of Shots - Rated T - Written for The Three Broomsticks Servers 10 Days of Drabbles challenge.

Sharing Firewhiskey - Rated G - After James' birth, Arthur shares advice and Firewhiskey with his son-in-law

The Truth - Rated G - The Tonks family with a side of Tedromeda and Remadora. Tonks ends up at her parents' the morning after the Department of Mysteries and there's some things she needs to fill them in about.

Winter Sun - Rated G - Drabbles for the Harry POCter Winter Sun Drabble Fest

--

Ted x Andromeda I have been thinking about these two for literally years, and I'm so happy that the obsession finally kicked in and I've been able to write their story.

I've always loved the idea that their relationship started when they were older. It gives them a bit more maturity and makes them a little less Romeo & Juliet

A Hard Day's Night - Rated T - Their first meeting.

Temptation - Rated M - Ted is falling hard, and it doesn't help that Andromeda has shown up at work drinks looking like that

Breaking the Rules - Rated T - A small moment between Andromeda and Ted at work drinks one night

Missing This - Rated T - Andromeda gets drunk and comes close to admitting what her future holds to Ted.

Giving In - Rated M - A look into their first time, when Andromeda gets exactly what she wants, and Ted can hardly believe his luck.

Not Tonight - Rated M - It's the St Mungo's Christmas Do, and Andromeda can't stop thinking of a night that happened the week before.

Leaving - Rated G - The time has come for Andromeda to leave her family behind.

A Bit of Fun - Rated M - This is probably my favourite fic I've written so far. A moment between Ted and Andromeda, early on in their relationship when they're both denying their feelings and making stupid decisions.

Desperation - Rated E - When Andromeda finally gets the news that she's been dreading for nearly two years, there's only one person she wants to see (My first attempt at smut)

The Hard Choice - Rated T - Fifteen days after Andromeda's engagement, Ted has something he needs to say.

Grief - Rated T - An exploration into Andromeda's grief after the war.

--

Lily x James Decisions - Rated T - After a close call, Lily and James have a discussion that will change their lives.

--

Katie x Oliver These two were my first HP OTP. I do have plans for more stories with them that hopefully I'll write in 2023.

Rubs and Disappointments - Rated T - After Harry's fall during the Hufflepuff match, Katie goes to check that Oliver wasn't actually drowning himself in the showers.

Auld Lang Syne - Rated M - Katie wakes up, hungover, not entirely sure of what happened the day before, and gets a shock when she works out whose flat she's in.

--

Harry x Ginny Something Bad - Rated M - Harry is a good dad, and he has a hot wife.

How Lily Luna Got Her Name - Rated T - Did you know that in the Coven of Haileybury, if a witch saved your life you were honour bound to name your first born daughter after her?

--

Ron x Hermione I love these two so much, I hope to write more for them in the future.

Snow on the Beach - Rated T - Written for the TTB 2022 Yule Bash fest. Ron spends Christmas in Australia with Hermione and her family.

Not So Bad - Rated G - Ron wakes up one morning in the Hospital Wing after being poisoned in HBP to find Hermione curled up in a chair beside him.

--

Remus x Tonks Remadora Ficlets - Rated M - Occasionally a scene featuring Remus and Tonks gets stuck in my head and bugs me until I write it down.

Advice - Rated G - Ted has some words of advice for Remus before he is forced to go on the run.

--

Next Gen I swear there is so much more Next Gen planned! I will write it one day.

Mischief Managed - Rated G - (Lily Luna & James Sirius) - Lily is a typical little sister and decides that it's time for the map to find a new owner.

When Pain is Over - Rated G - (Lily Luna & Ginny Weasley) - Lily learns a bit more about what her mum went through during the war.

The Potter-Granger-Weasley Pool Party Extravaganza - Rated T - (Lily Luna, Roxanne Weasley, Hugo Granger Weasley, Lucy Weasley) - When four cousins are left alone for the weekend, they decide to throw the party of the summer. It would have all gone to plan, if boys weren't dumb and if their parents didn't have such bad luck at camping.

She Was Not Wise Yet - Rated G - (Lily Luna/Male OC) - Ten years after leaving school, Lily runs into someone that she never thought she would see again.

#masterlist #my writing #HP fanfic #Harry Potter Fanfic #jily #lily x james #tedromeda #ted x andromeda #katie x oliver #hinny #harry x ginny #romione #ron x hermione #remadora #remus x tonks #next gen #lily luna

[schmem14]

(Hello, my Tumblr is the only account I have that isn’t Katbeth86, but I love it’s name too much to change it 🙈)

Peculiar Prompt: Harry/Luna, Hidden Soulmarks (each person know where their own are, but the marks can’t be seen by others unless they choose to expose them), angst is fine, but I would please request a happy ending 🙈

What are peculiar prompts? Click HERE to find out and join in the fun!

Lost and Found

CW: none

Pairing: Harry Potter x Luna Lovegood

Rating: T

WC: 1.9k

*Disclaimer: There is a depiction of the Jewish Holiday of Passover/Seder in this story. I am not of the Jewish faith, but I did my best to research the traditions and holiday in preparation for this ficlet.

*****

“All finished, Harry,” Ron grunts as he stacks his stack of gleaming plates on the counter. “I think I did a fair job of it.”

Harry looks up from dusting a bookshelf to where his friend has been scouring every dish until they’re clean enough for tonight. 

Harry sets his rag down.  “Thanks for helping me. I’ve got the rest squared away.”

He plasters what he hopes is a pleasant smile on his lips, but for some reason, it’s harder this year to pretend he’s okay. 

“No problem, mate. I should get going. Gotta pick up the kids from King’s Cross on the way to get Hermione from work. We’ll all be back by sundown, brisket and all.” 

Harry nods but doesn’t trust his voice not to wobble. He’s grateful Ron came to help, but even his leaving for a few hours feels treacherously like abandonment. Every goodbye does when you’re as alone as Harry is.

Ron sees something in Harry’s expression and pauses. 

He ambles over to Harry to enfold him in a hug. 

A torrent of vulnerability so long dammed breaks free. Harry’s breath shudders and hitches with pitiful sobs that soak into Ron's sleeve as he pat's Harry's back. 

“Harry—”

“—I know, alright? I—I can’t find her, whoever she is. I can’t seem to fill the hollow space here,” Harry pulls away to clutch his heart. “I’m not getting any younger, Ron. I’m not sure when I’ll find my soulmate, not after two decades of searching. I feel so alone. I need her.”

Ron sighs and leans against the couch opposite Harry, arms folding as he contemplates. He finally asks the thing he’s suspected, ever since Harry first told him about the soul mark hidden on his palm. “Does Ginny know that’s why you divorced her?”

Harry nods and flips his hand to rub his thumb over the smooth skin, concentrating on making the glamour dissipate. 

The mark had appeared in the centre of his palm eight months after the last battle. At first, he’d thought Ginny would possess its twin, but when he’d asked her about it, she’d been as bewildered as him. 

They’d both been too young and too in love to fathom the weight of marrying when he was soul-bound to another. It became a widening chasm between them, preventing him from feeling at home in Ginny’s embrace. 

“Hermione and I worry about you,” Ron says. Of course, they do. “I know you have the kids, but they’re at Hogwarts most of the year. And even if Ginny is still on good terms with you, it’s not enough. Maybe you should try again, Haz. Maybe it’s time to give up on your mystery soul mate and find someone a little closer to home.”

Ron’s only being a good friend, and Harry doesn’t bother to explain that someone who hasn’t been soul marked can’t understand how every other intimate relationship is a poor imitation of who and what he yearns for. 

Ever since divorcing Ginny, he feels the lack more than ever. He cherishes a hope after this month of preparing, the Passover celebration tonight will spark some much-needed joy after a lonely winter. He’s even prepared this home, pretending she’s coming like Elijah of old to fill the space he left her. 

“I’ll be okay, Ron. I’ll see you later.”

Ron claps his large palm on Harry’s shoulder. “You sure?”

“Yes, Ron. And thanks.”

“Anything for my best mate.”

*****

Hours later, guests begin to arrive. 

Ginny is first with their kids, who fling shoes and coats onto the floor of his sparkling entryway. 

“House looks great, Har…” Ginny kisses him on the cheek. “Jamie! Get back here and hang your coat! You too, Al and Lils!”

They grumble under their breaths but comply. Normally, Harry’s house isn’t so immaculate, but this is a special time of year. 

Ginny produces a crock from under her arm, charmed to stay hot. “I made the matzo ball soup, just like you asked.”

“Smells amazing, Gin. Thanks! I’ll take this to the kitchen.”

Next to arrive is Harry’s one Jewish friend from Hogwarts, Anthony Goldstein and his dangerously pregnant wife, Padma Patil. “Good to see you, Harry! Thanks for hosting this year…” Anthony winks before herding Padma to find a comfortable seat on the couch.

Hermione and Ron arrive next with the precocious Rose and exuberant Hugo in tow. 

“Mum, can I try the wine this year? I’m fourteen, and Jamie gets to have some!” Rose whines at Hermione. 

“Absolutely not. Jamie is nearly of age, and you’re not quite old enough,” Hermione explains in a longsuffering tone. 

“I’ll give you a little sip of mine,” Harry catches Ron whispering to Rose seconds later as he winks at his scowling wife. 

Anthony calls from the kitchen where he’s removing several parcels from the bag he’s brought. “Where do you keep the seder plate, Harry?”

“Just a sec, I’ll grab it.” Harry dodges the giggling train of Lily and Hugo as they race past him. He locates the precious porcelain plate with its six cups and unwraps it with careful fingers. It’s one of the few things he’d been able to salvage from his childhood home and his first clue of the lost heritage of his father’s family. 

He sets the plate on the counter and helps place each element—Horseradish, Charoset, Potato, Shankbone, Egg, and Lettuce. 

When they sit at the table together, Harry opens his copy of the Haggadah and begins to read. 

“Prepare the meal of the supernal King. This is the meal of the Holy One, blessed be He, and His Shechinah…”

It’s a solemn affair, less boisterous than in years past. 

They speak in hushed words as they sample the Karpas. 

The crack of matzah is loud in the reverent silence that even the kids seem to be observing this year. 

Lily’s voice is soft and melodic as she recites the four questions. 

Later, when she and Hugo search for the afikoman hidden earlier by Anthony, they don’t shriek and thump about quite as loudly as they usually do. 

The candles burn low. 

The food dwindles from plates and bowls. 

Harry pours the fourth round of wine followed by Elijah’s cup at the last empty chair of the table. 

Every year, he waits for this moment, secretly hoping that as the Jews hope Elijah will grace their tables, his soulmate will somehow be waiting at the door. 

Harry stands and walks to the entryway with shaking fingers. His heart pounds faster and faster. He feels hot inside, burning, full. 

He lifts a hand to the doorknob, ready to open it when three sharp raps on the door splinter the silence. 

The room seems frozen in amber, every eye huge and expectant, craning to watch Harry welcome the unexpected guest. 

Harry twists the knob, pulls it open, and sees her. 

*****

When the soul mark appears on her palm on the day of Xenophilius’s funeral, eight months after the end of the war, Luna sees it as an omen. 

Not in the sense that she longs to chase it, but that she longs to turn the other way and never stop running. 

She’s not one for great displays of sadness, but that doesn’t mean her foundations don’t crack with the newfound knowledge that one thread of love has the power to hurt her this much. 

Luna leaves Hogwarts, education incomplete.  She flits from country to country discovering all manner of cultures and magic. She loves people and things with her body and her mind, but her heart is reserved for the one whose sign she hides under a permanent glamour. 

Years pass, and she never stops moving, though she does stop marking time. 

Sometime around the first silvery grey strands threading through blonde, Luna finds herself getting pulled in the undertow of fate to the thing she’s avoided for so long. 

It’s an early spring morning and she’s curling her toes and arching her back in a languorous stretch, wiggling closer to the warm body beside her in their battered canvas tent.  A surge of urgency wakens within her. 

He needs her. 

She’s known his identity for years but refuses to get in the way. Last she heard, he married her best friend, had a litter of kids, and got a proper job at the Ministry. 

Huddled and comfortable as she is against Rolf in their campsite in Grindavik, Iceland, Luna realises it’s time to come home. 

She rolls off his cot and locates a pair of cargo trousers—hers, she thinks, but they’re about the same size and colour. He’ll never know either way, hyper-focused as he is on his research. 

Rolf rolls over, grumbling for her to come back to bed, but Luna’s already in a rhythm, the need to move so powerful she has no time to waste.

Everything she owns fits in a shabby rucksack patched with scraps of fabric scrounged on her travels. She slings it over her shoulder now, toeing on her boots as if she’s running the race of her life. 

Luna dashes out into the cold dawn air, the last vestiges of northern lights snaking away from view. Luna quickly locates her broomstick and flies toward the glowing embers of sunrise. 

Toward home. 

She flies all day, never stopping once, not even when her fingers ache and her stomach growls in hunger. She follows the homing beacon in her heart, getting closer and closer to him. 

To Harry. 

She’s never been to his cottage, but it looks warm and comforting in the glow of lights from the window. Luna stops before the gate, her heart thrumming with nervous energy. There’s a large oak tree out front, the sturdy boughs bending in a protective shade over the yard, a crude swing hanging from the lowest of them. 

Luna can see herself on that swing, his hands warm on her back as he pushes her. 

She can see herself kneeling in the humble garden, planting all her favourite clippings from every land she’s ever seen. 

She can imagine spreading a tablecloth on the weathered picnic table while Harry brings dinner out, their towheaded child tottering along behind him, thumb in her mouth as she follows the smell of food. 

She can imagine cosy nights before the fire, and eternal mornings binding every sinew of hers to his as they make love. 

Her heart clenches at the sudden longing, the unfamiliar desire to put down roots.

She opens the gate and approaches the house. Her fingers won’t stop shaking as she raises her fist to knock. 

The door creaks open, and there he is. Time has worn crinkles in the corners of his eyes, and there are whips of grey in the curls at his temples, but other than that, he’s the same. 

“I’m home,” she says, the words tasting right in her mouth. She lifts her palm and concentrates, making the glamour fade. 

Harry’s heart is in his eyes as he presses his palm to hers, a perfect mirror of marks humming against one another. She’s never felt so complete in her whole life. 

“Welcome home,” he says. “You’ve come at just the right time.”

#Peculiar Prompts #Asked and Answered #Passover #Jewish Harry Potter #Harry Potter x Luna Lovegood #Harry x Luna #Soulmates #soul marks #canon compliant #salt and pepper Harry x Luna

[ravena-wrote]

tonight my sleep will be restless 

this is an expert from my @drarry-spin-the-wheel-fest work. My prompts are Werewolf Harry or Draco and Meet Ugly. I’ve hit some writers block and I think I just need to know that someone enjoys the direction of this fic to inspire me to keep writing it haha. Hope ya’ll enjoy! 

“Don’t try to tell me you didn’t know Draco was in Scotland,” Harry spits through the fire. Blaise rubs his eyes groggily. He’s wearing an emerald green dressing gown embroidered with what looks like giant golden butterflies. The Slytherins have always had a bit of a wild fashion sense. 

“I didn’t know Draco was in Scotland?” Blaise has always been a terrible liar. 

“You’re a terrible liar,” Harry says angrily. 

Blaise smiles nervously. “Okay you caught me, I knew Draco was in Scotland.” 

“I can’t believe you,” Harry looks down and finds that his knuckles are clenched into fists, his knuckles stand out white against his tanned skin. He knows it isn’t good for him to wind himself up like this but he can’t help it. “You knew he was here and you encouraged me to buy the house RIGHT NEXT DOOR to him?!” 

“Um, yes. That might be exactly what I did.” Blaises curls his lip into a small smirk, “But isn’t it great? Now he can keep an eye on you.” 

“Don’t tell me you set this up because you thought Draco Malfoy would be a prime candidate for watching over the Savior of the Wizarding World. You didn’t think that the second he realized something strange was going on he would go straight to the press?” Harry demands. 

Blaise’s eyes widen slightly, “I didn’t really think about that,” He admits. “But he’s changed a lot since the war. I’m sure he won’t do that.” 

“Oh perfect. You didn’t think of that?!! What were you thinking about then?”

“Oh,” Blaise says brightly, “How when me and Ginny come to visit we can see both of you instead of taking portkeys to different places.” 

“So,” Harry’s voice comes out low, a dangerous strain to his words. “You’re telling me I bought a house in the middle of nowhere only to find out that Draco Malfoy is my neighbor all because you and Ginny wanted simple travel plans?”

“Well yes,” Blaise admits gingerly, scooting back from his fireplace a little as if he thinks Harry might reach through the flames and shove him. “When I think about it like that it does seem a little silly.” 

Harry shakes his head and forces himself to take a deep breath in through his nose and out through his mouth just like the sodding meditation practice Hermione is always forcing him to do. 

“Fine,” He grits out. “I’ll figure out how to handle it. But you have to tell Draco that it’s your fault I’m here. I don’t want him thinking I’m some obsessive stalker.” 

“Hm, I actually think that maybe that could be avoided? You see-” 

“No,” Harry says, “You tell him or I’ll tell Ginny about the time you stole her favorite dress to wear to Pansy’s drag party.” 

“Okay,” Blaise says, clenching his jaw. “I’m sure it won’t be a big deal. He’ll forgive me immediately.” 

“Whatever you need to tell yourself Blaise.”

Harry ends the firecall and slumps onto the rug. 

#drarryspinthewheel #fic fest #excerpt #fanfic #drarry #prompt #meet ugly #werewolf harry #harry potter #musician draco #scotland #violin #fiddle #blaise zambini #blaise x ginny #writing #ravenawrote #microfic #ficlet #wip #wip excerpt #writers block

[romqnticstylez]

Harry/Ginny with prompt 5 from prompt list 1? :D

“You finally woke up, good dream?”

wordcount: 400+

trigger warnings: none

a/n: i’m sorry this took so long i’m extremely lazy 😔 but. hope you like it! kinda. thank you to @g1nny-p0tter for helping me decide something for this. it was more useful then it looks jahsksj

read on ao3

“I am not asleep!” Ginny said abruptly from where she was sitting in between her boyfriend’s legs.

Harry raised an eyebrow at her and kindly decided to pretend he hadn’t just seen her head hit her Herbology book in a weak attempt to stay awake.

When Ginny’s head hit him on the nose and she began apologizing, however, he thought it’d be kinder to let her fall asleep. To the both of them.

So as her head drooped again a bit later, Harry gently pried the book out of her hands and nudged her head so it rested on his shoulder.

Since she was asleep, he was finally forced to focus on his homework. But somehow, feeling her soft hair occasionally tickling his neck as she shifted in her sleep helped his concentration, so that was a plus.

It was a while later that Ginny stirred and woke up, her hands fisting on his shirt before she turned to face him.

When she gave him a bright smile, Harry grinned back, shutting his book. He cupped her jaw and brushed her cheek lightly with his thumb. “You finally woke up, good dream?” he asked, as Ginny leaned into his touch.

Unexpectedly, she went scarlet and nodded. An image of an eleven-year-old Ginny’s face glowing as she stuck her elbow in a butter dish flashed in his head.

“The best, actually. I can’t believe you let me fall asleep! It’s the only reason you’re forgiven, Potter.” Harry laughed, earning a glare that held no real anger.

“Must’ve been very good if the great Ginevra forgave me. Tell me about it?”

“Don’t call me that,” Ginny murmured, smacking him on the chest playfully. She looked down at her hands, clearly avoiding his gaze. “We — er, wegohmae.”

“Come again?” Ginny, if possible, turned even brighter. “We — okay, er, we got married.”

Harry blinked at her, her eyes held a glaze that told him she remembered the dream perfectly. For a wild second, he wondered if she was remembering it while fiddling with the ends of her jumper.

He wasn’t really surprised at how easy it was to imagine her in a wedding dress. Or Ginny, wearing a jersey with his name on it.

“Ginny Potter,” Harry said, suddenly feeling even happier than he already did, something he thought was impossible. “has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

Her head shot up, and a grin formed on her face. She was still blushing but looked highly pleased instead of slightly bashful.

“I think Harry Weasley sounds better, actually.”

Harry nuzzled her cheek to hide the smile that had formed on his face at the sound of her light laughter. It was always fun teasing each other. But when he leaned back and she caught his gaze seconds before a tickle war commenced, Harry thought both of the names didn’t sound bad. Not at all.

#author’s notes make me feel professional 😩🖕 #hinny #hinny fic #hp fic #harry potter #ginny weasley #ginevra molly weasley #harry james potter #harry x ginny #ginny x harry #harry potter x ginny weasley #ficlet #ficlets #fanfiction #rose the writing flower #taking prompts #hm what else #ao3 #not beta read #lmaoskdksk ofc not 😔

[sirius-you-know]

When my friends argue over the fact that my ships aren't canonically together

#drarry ficlet #sirius black #draco malfoy #harry potter #remus lupin #wolfstar #drarry #sabriel #sam winchester #gabriel #samwena #rowena #ginny x luna #ginny wealsey #luna lovegood #dorcas and marlene #marlene mckinnon #dorcas meadowes

[sorry-i-ship-drarry]

Pieces of a Puzzle

Day 23- sweaters @hpdestress

" Harry, have you seen my sweater Molly gave to me last Christmas?" Draco called from the bedroom while Harry was picking out his shoes for the dinner at the Weasley's.

" Should be in our closet " Harry replied back.

" I can't find it " He yelled back again.

Huffing Harry went to the bedroom to where Draco was standing in front of the closet finding the specific sweater.

" What does it look like ?" Harry asked

" It's a grey sweater with a DM over the front " Draco replied.

" I have never seen you wearing it, why now ?" Harry hummed as he knelt down looking for the sweater as well.

" I thought you know it's Christmas day, so let's wear what she gave me. It'll be like that I saved it for a special occasion, besides I think she'd feel good knowing I wore the sweater she knit me but it's nowhere to be seen " Draco replied.

" did you burn it ?" Harry joked but Draco didn't find it funny, obviously.

" Please Harry, I really want her to know that I care about her presents " Draco complained

" I'm sure you do, the broken vase stands in accord to that statement "

" I still have all it's pieces " Draco rolled his eyes at Harry

" and yet you never reparo it " Harry countered back

Draco hummed momentarily pausing his search" how come that never crossed my mind?"

Harry got up after that, exhaling harshly " It's not here "

" Where could it possibly be then ?" Draco whined

" I'm sure it must be somewhere but we don't have enough time to look for that sweater. Just wear any of them " Harry suggested

" But I wanted to wear her gifted sweater " Draco sighed taking a few steps back to sit on the bed.

Harry came and sat down next to him and took his hands in his own " If you don't wear her gifted sweater, she won't stop loving you Draco. She really really loves you alright and nothing can change that-"

" But-"

" No buts Draco- I know you want to show her that it matters to you and I know it does but losing that Sweater doesn't mean that, that sweater doesn't matter to you. Just wear any of them, she'll love it nonetheless" Harry smiled reassuringly at Draco.

Draco pursed his lips then smiled back, leaning his head on Harry's shoulder " I still wanted to wear her sweater "

"Then you can wear one of mine that she gave to me. I'm sure she would absolutely adore it " Harry smiled.

Draco nodded. He turned his head a little so his head was fitted in Harry's neck and softly kissed him there " I don't know what I'd do without you somedays "

" Absolutely terrible if I have to be honest "

Draco laughed shortly then was pulled up by Harry to get dressed.

They left the house in an hour and Draco as decided wore one of Harry's black sweater with small H's knitted all over. Upon reaching as usual they were engulfed into huge hugs and for an enormous amount of time until they would slightly push to breathe in properly.

When Draco was helping Molly after all the celebrations in the kitchen, she noticed his sweater and said " It looks way better than it did on Harry. I appreciate you wearing that"

" I love them. I wish I could wear these more often but I save these for occasions very special " Draco smiled at her.

" and this is a very special occasion ?" Molly asked

" Of course. You make it special "Draco smiled adoringly.

Molly's eyes filled with little tears due to the overwhelming moment and immediately hugged Draco " You are an absolute gem Draco Darling. Absolute gem"

Draco himself felt too overwhelmed and hugged her back " I love you Molly, I really do"

" Oh Draco-" she choked and hugged him tighter as her voice broke too " I love you too Darling, I love you too "

Little did they know Harry was watching them from the corner and smiling at the way the moment came into being. Harry knew what that affection meant to Draco. All his life Draco was suppressed of so many emotions, so many feelings that he wasn't able to express, love he didn't recieve the way he should've but him coming into the family had shown him ways to express his feelings more so than often and some turned into one of these beautiful moments. Draco finally felt loved and even though sometimes he doesn't admit it but falling in Love with Harry had made him fall in love with so many things that remained out of the count on fingers but he was so glad of that and Harry was even more proud of Draco.

The next morning when they woke up and checked under the Christmas tree of the Weasley house, Draco had received almost 10 gifts from Molly, all of them were the sweaters she might've knit overnight and having Draco's and Harry's initials. Draco had never felt so loved before in his life and he wept sitting there holding onto them tighter to his body enjoying the warmth of the sweaters.

" You like them?" He suddenly noticed Molly had came into the room and was watching him hold onto the sweaters.

Draco stood up and immediately hugged her for a very long time, no words spoken just the affection that developed in the moment. Molly herself didn't say anything but Just kept hugging him back the same way knowing that no words needed to be spoken, no sound had to be made to convey anything. It was only when Ron came into the room and joked about the universe probably imploding with so much love that they separated.

" I love them Molly, every single one of them " Draco said after a while.

Molly smiled in her acute, wide grin and sparkled eyes way that she does so often that said so many more things than the words that could've been spoken.

Harry had been leaning against the door the whole time and now finally he reached behind Draco and hugged him from the back when nobody was looking so they had their privacy " I was right, wasn't I ?"

But Draco didn't reply instead he kept smiling.

Harry, worrisome tried to catch a look on his face " Dray- baby- are you crying?"

" what- no -" he choked.

Harry chuckled behind him and hugged him even tighter, kissing the side of his neck " I'm so proud of you "

Draco hummed, snuggling himself into Harry's arms wiping the corner of his eyes " Thank you "

" For what ?" Harry asked smiling.

Draco only kept looking forward as the hustle in the house that started with Ginny who came into the kitchen with her flowy ginger hair and Ron's hands which roamed over the leftover cakes, Fleur who spoke posh-ly even yet, Arthur who came with his morning energy and his dad jokes, Hermione with her another day of helping Molly with the breakfast and the rest that fitted into the scene like the pieces of a puzzle.

" For this " Draco replied.

Harry looked forward to what Draco was watching and smiled himself. He was himself thankful for all of it and now he was even more happier to have shared this with someone he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. It all started with just a train compartment with a ginger head boy who was messy, shabby, a smile so keen and a heart of gold.

This was supposed to be yesterday's update

Day 22- Family trip gone wrong || Day 24- behind the bedroom doors

HP DE-STRESS DECEMBER REQUEST OPEN

MASTERLIST

#drarry #harry potter #draco x harry #draco malfoy #hp fandom #harry james potter #drarry prompt #harry potter fanfiction #drarry fandom #drarry fluff december #drarry fluff fest #drarry fluff #drarry ficlet #drarry fic #drarry drabbles #hermione granger #ginny weasley #weasley family #christmas fluff #drarry christmas #christmas #draco malfoy fic #harry potter fic #harry potter oneshot #christmas drabble