#hinny ficlet

[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

[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

[gemgirl28]

Part two of a request for @juldooz-atla for Hinny

Once again I am terribly sorry this took so long. I had a vague idea of where I wanted to take it but it wasn't really clear until I was getting ready for bed.

Also this is going under the cut for discussions of smut, but nothing explicit, just ya know, in case.

This hurts

"Oh, this hurts to watch," Harry groaned.

"I know," Ginny said, rubbing his arm in a soothing pattern.

"It's so bad."

"So bad," she agreed.

"Malfoy's going to be so-"

"So insufferable at work on Monday, I know."

"So insufferable," Harry whined.

A week ago he'd made the mistake of betting Malfoy the Chudley Canons would beat the Falmouth Falcons. Two days ago Malfoy had offered Harry his season box to watch the game. Excited at the prospect of a VIP box, Harry had agreed.

Now he was regretting it all, as the Falcons were up 200-10.

"I still don't understand why he gave you the tickets though," Ginny mused, reaching for a tray of canapés that was floating by.

Harry groaned, rubbing his temples at the reminder. "He finally asked Hermione out and she agreed, but she's got a work trip next week, so it had to be this weekend."

Ginny gasped dramatically. "And she didn't tell me?!"

"I'm sure she'll fill you in on all the details when they get back," Harry said dryly.

"Back? From where?"

"Paris, I think."

Ginny gasped again, clutching her chest dramatically, before a wicked grin split her face. "Well, then maybe Malfoy won't be so insufferable about the game. In fact, if Hermione shags him enough he might even forget-"

"Ugh! No! No talking about Hermione and Malfoy... doing anything!" Harry winced at the thought. "Ever!"

Ginny laughed but wrapped her arms around her husband's shoulder, sweetly kissing his cheek. "Chin up, Potter. I'm sure this game will be over soon, and then we can have a pity shag."

"A pity shag?" He wrinkled his nose.

"Yeah, as in 'its a pity you made a stupid bet with Malfoy but I love you anyways."

Despite himself, Harry grinned.

"I love you too."

Send me a prompt and a pairing!

#I couldn't help myself with the background Dramione #But the point is #Ginny loves Harry very much #Even when he makes dumb choices #thanks for the prompt dear! #This was my first time outright writing Hinny #I think they are neat #juldooz #my writing #send me a prompt #soft angst prompt #hinny #hinny ficlet

[blinkngone]

(hinny angst)

“Stay,” she says, when he makes to move. She clutches his spent body to hers. The aftermath is a dreamlike state: she feels strangely light, like if she wanted, she could float away, and yet, the feeling of Harry on her, moors her to this world.

His face in her neck, her arms around him. The lights from the London traffic pressing on the ceiling of his bedroom. She traces the ridges of his spine delicately, the way you’d trace the topography of a long-forgotten, precious land.

“Okay,” he says now. “I’ll stay.”

“Okay,” she tells him. “Alright.” She can feel herself being lulled to sleep by the pattern of his exhalations.

She wants to fight the sleep. Scared, so scared he might leave again. Scared of the emptiness he will leave, if he goes. She doesn't think she can bear it, to have him go again. Like a kid, she needs assurance. She is suddenly needy.

“Will you really stay?” she asks him. Identical rivulets run down from the corner of her eyes. All her life, she has loved him. All her life, she will love him.

Harry can sense this dread inside her, perhaps. Can tell her pulse has accelerated.

“Gin,” he says. All this time, she’s been looking at the ceiling. “Gin.”

She looks at him.

“I’m staying, okay? I’m staying.”

“You won’t leave then? Again?”

Pain creases his face, and she wants to rub it off with her palms. Wants to wipe it and paint this beautiful, beautiful face with golden happiness.

“No. I’m here to stay.” He kisses her forehead. “Where else have I to go?” he asks her. He could be crying, too.

“What if I leave?” she breathes onto his lips. Because it is true, she is scared of herself, too.

“I’ll follow you. I’ll go wherever you go.”

#harrypotter #hinny #harryxginny #hinny headcanon #hbp #hp #fic #dh #ficlet

[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

[norakelly]

April 24th- Hobby

@hinnymicrofic

A little bit of angst:)

Ginny used to write as a hobby. It either used to be lighthearted poems or extravagant fairytales with ‘happily ever after’ endings. She would keep a diary with her at all times for that, and it was her sanctuary.

After the chamber, or as she would word it- after Tom, Ginny felt as if she had become allergic to ink. The smell was insufferable to the point she cried silently in the middle of the class on her first day back.

Then she stopped writing. And it hurt like hell.

Her fifth year was a rollercoaster. Dean was great and he was a gentleman. In Ginny’s case, far too much of a gentleman that it pricked her rebellious pride. Their fights never lead to an ‘i hate you’ phase. But, they did fight, and they did get broken up, and Ginny did cry; cause he was a good man for god’s sake.

At that moment, the memory of ink, surfacing from behind the page, devising words of evil, tried to battle the urge to scribble her mind all over a paper parchment.

Phase two of fifth year as she calls it, was enlightening.

To notice Harry gawking at her from the corner of her eye, and to realize the fact that maybe, just maybe her assumptions were accurate and is not just a dream. She was not stupid to disregard the occasional and random flirting he did. It was weird yet, blissful to witness.

At night, the ink was all over her robes and she screamed. Ginny was reminded once again about the consequences of day dreaming on a boy. It was almost like Tom was uttering to her,

“ You don’t deserve love my little Ginny”

With that, she promised herself to not to get her hopes up.

But little did she knew. How life came back in full circles.

The day they kissed, that quick second of mirth filled her heart with a warmth she knew but never witnessed; and a few days in she realized she’s living her happiest self.

They were good together. They knew it, and everyone knew it. He helped her study, and she thanked him with early morning snogging sessions by the lake. When Harry’s hands wandered up her blouse, and when he breathed in to her neck, placing soft kisses to her freckled skin, she wished for the moment to stop; to let her word every annoyingly meticulous detail about him in cursive letters.

And for the first time in many years she did.

Harry was beside her reading, while leaning on to her as much she did on him.

Dear diary,

She skipped that part. But listed the rest.

The boy that saved her life, came back to save her from drowning. She owed him too much.

So just like that, she was writing again.

And it felt good.

#hinny #hinny fanfic #ginny weasley #harry potter #harry and ginny #hinny microfic #chamber of secrets #ficlet

[ellorypurebloodculture]

For FSF, anything Harry/Ginny or Harry & Ginny?

Heir Harry Potter gulps when Miss Ginevra Weasley walks down the staircase into the Gryffindor Common Room, the skirts of her formal dress robes swishing becomingly against her legs.

"You look--" His voice cracks as it hasn't done since he finished puberty, much to his embarrassment.

"Thanks," Ginny says, tucking a piece of loose fringe behind her ear as a blush surrounds her freckles, "you too."

"Shall we?" he asks, offering her his arm.

Ginny grins, as radiant as the sun at noon day, and says, "We shall" before he escorts her down to the ball.

#ellory writes #five sentence ficlet #harry potter/ginny weasley #hinny

[ala-baguette]

Returning Home

Summary: One year has passed since the War ended, and Harry returns to Godric's Hollow. Relationships: Harry Potter/ Ginny Weasley Rating: G 1400 words  |  Read it here or on AO3

Harry stepped out the front door of the cottage and paused in the sunlight on the garden path. The breeze rustled through the new spring growth of the trees lining the lane at the village edge. He heard the faint tinkle of a windchime outside one of the houses a few doors down. It was so quiet here. He pushed his fists deeper into his pockets.

In the entry behind him, Hermione was still grilling the estate agent on minutiae that he didn’t care about but probably should. Appliances and piping and cesspits and roofing and insulation and flood maps. Harry tuned it out. Instead, he merely stood and breathed the crisp clean air and listened to the wind. He could smell lavender from somewhere. He wondered where it grew.

An arm snaked its way around his own, and he blinked away the reverie about nothing and everything to look down. Ginny looked up at him and smiled. There was a subtle question there, but it was not insistent. So Harry merely extracted his hand from his pocket and wrapped it instead around her. Ginny seemed content with this. She rested her head against his shoulder and the pair of them merely stood there quietly. Listening to the wind.

“It’s a wonderful community here. Both Magical and Muggle alike,” the estate agent was saying to Ron and Hermione behind them. She’d clearly given up on trying to talk to Harry directly. “You should take a bit of time to explore, if you have it. See the village centre. Maybe have a bite in the Lion and Flame.”

“Where is that?” Ron asked.

“Wizarding pub. In the main square. The entrance is in the alleyway just to the right of the Muggle pub entrance. You’ll see a brick wall with a lion and phoenix. Just tap your wand and you’ll be able to step through.”

Harry did at least manage to muster himself to offer a smile, a thank you, and a handshake as the estate agent bid them farewell. What had been her name? He probably should have been paying better attention. No matter. Hermione would know.

The four of them walked along the village streets. Ron and Hermione were talking about asking price and cost of living and more things Harry didn’t care about. He remained quiet. They passed a small community play yard and Harry smiled a little, imaging bringing Teddy here when he came to visit. But he didn’t raise his head to look down the street where he knew the ruins of a long-destroyed house still stood. And he kept his eyes on his feet as they passed the war memorial, even when he caught the transformation out of his peripheral vision. When they passed the church, his eyes did dart a glance to the graveyard behind. But he didn’t slow. Not today. He would be back. He felt Ginny give his hand a small squeeze.

The pub was just where what’s-her-name had said it would be. They melted through the door one at a time and let themselves down the torch-lined steps. At the bottom of the stairs, Harry paused to look around. He took in the old-fashioned wood bar with its many beer taps and liquor bottles. The dim but warm lighting. The dark wood ceiling beams and panelling. The mismatched tables and chairs scattered across the well-worn red carpet. Harry loved it immediately.

“Alroigh’ me’ansum?” the barkeeper called to them, glancing up from where he was filling a round of pints; it seemed an automatic greeting he offered to any who entered. But then he did a doubletake and stared at Harry for a moment, his face inscrutable. The gaggle of middle-aged men who were leaning against the bar and chatting merrily, followed his gaze and stilled as well. Then the old witches in the corner who were gossiping over their sherry and knitting. Then the pair of boys who Harry vaguely recognised as Hufflepuffs who’d been a few years ahead of them at Hogwarts. Harry flattened his fringe. Ron and Hermione exchanged a smirk, and Harry reminded himself of the futility of this habit.

Harry braced himself for the onslaught, but the barkeeper merely went back to filling his pints. His patrons, albeit reluctantly, seemed to take their cues from him. They turned back to their conversations, though eyes continued to dart in Harry’s direction periodically.

After a moment’s hesitation, Harry sidled up to the bar, his friends falling into step beside him. “Hello,” he greeted as the barkeeper filled the last of the middle-aged men’s pints and passed them across the bar. The barkeeper jerked his chin up. Harry couldn’t say if it was an acknowledgement of his greeting or a request for his order or both. “Four butterbeers, please?”

The barkeeper merely nodded, unsmiling, and ducked under the counter. He reappeared a second later with four bottles. He tapped his wand to pop the lids and slid them across the counter as one. Harry reached into his pocket for his gold, but the barkeeper said, “On the ‘ouse.”

Harry shook his head. “Thanks. But I insist.” He slid a handful of coins across the counter.

The barkeeper shrugged. “Sui’ yourself.” He counted out the appropriate coins, and slid the remainder back to Harry. “Welcome ‘ome, Mister Po’er,” he said, still without a smile.

And there were murmurs around the pub as others intoned the same.

“Welcome home, Harry.”

“Glad to have yeh back.”

“Your ‘ealth, Mr. Po’er.”

Harry nodded at them awkwardly in thanks and picked up the butterbeers, passing one each to Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, all of whom were quietly watching him. They seemed to be waiting for him to pick the table. His eyes roved the pub.

“Tha’ table in the corner.”

Harry blinked and turned back to the barkeeper. “Sorry?”

The barkeeper nodded toward the far corner of the pub. “Tha’s the one your dad and his mates used to si’ in. Every Friday noigh’. Least ’til your mum and dad wen’ into hidin’.” Harry followed his gaze to a round table with four empty chairs. Harry merely stared at it for a moment, before he remembered himself.

Blinking, he looked back to the barkeeper. “Thank you,” he said earnestly. The old man just nodded again, then turned his attention to wiping down the bar.

Ron, Hermione, and Ginny followed him to the table. They seemed to sense that he was not in much of a mood for conversation and were content to let him sit quietly as they chatted. He sat in the chair in the corner and stared around the pub as babble continued around him. Harry watched as two older wizards debated politics; he watched as the Hufflepuff boys moseyed over to the dartboard on one wall; as one of the witches worried over a dropped stitch in her knitting and fretfully counted along her needles.

“—What do you reckon, Harry?”

“Huh?” Harry blinked and looked around to find his friends all staring at him expectantly.

“The house,” Hermione clarified patiently. “We were discussing the house. Just wondering how you liked it.”

“Oh. Right.” Harry’s eyes took another promenade around the room before they landed on Ginny. She was merely looking at him, patiently awaiting his answer. Harry swallowed, suddenly strangely nervous. How could he put into words that her opinion on this mattered more than anyone’s? Perhaps more than his own. He looked down at the butterbeer he held in both hands atop the table. “I thought… maybe it seemed like it could be home.”

He chanced a glance back up to Ginny. But she was beaming at him. He smiled back.

“Well, cheers to that, then,” said Ron, holding out his butterbeer.

“To home,” Hermione agreed.

“To home,” said Ginny softly, her eyes not leaving Harry’s.

His heart felt light as they clinked their bottles. He looked around the room again as he sipped his butterbeer, feeling affection for this room full of people he’d never met. His eyes fell on the barkeeper who was making his way toward their table with what appeared to be a large bowl of chips and a dipping sauce Harry couldn’t recall ordering. He suddenly realised he was famished.

For more about the Lion and Flame Inn, see the Remus Lupin installment of my Left Behind Series, 'Empty Chairs at Empty Tables'.

#harry potter fanfiction #hp fanfic #ficlet #harry potter #ginny weasley #godric's hollow #canon compliant #hinny #post canon #post war #harry deserves a place to call home

[theoshn]

Wish You Were Here

Drarry-ish Drabble by theoshn (Library_Fireplace on ao3)

Draco x Harry at heart, but in actually Harry x Ginny in the sheets. Rated M, generously. Kind of sad.

~*~

The Burrow

August 2002

The garden at the Burrow hadn’t looked so magical since Bill and Fleur’s wedding. Fireflies bumbled through the air, blinking lazily in the dusk. There was the hum of crickets. A picnic table literally bowing under the weight of the “snacks” Molly had prepared for the hours before supper. Harry thought he saw a gnome up to no good in the corner of the garden with the willow tree, near the tomato plants. Hermione was somewhere nearby, embarrassedly showing her engagement ring to Fleur again, the struggle to tamp down a smile clear in the way her voice wavered when she kept saying, “I know, really, it’s too much…” Harry could hear Molly banging pots around in the kitchen, Ron and Percy shouting at each other about something across the third floor balcony.

Ginny was draped over his lap, half dozing, rubbing her thumb over his in lazy circles. He could half feel her there, but he was somewhere else, too. He didn’t quite know where.

“D’you wanna come upstairs?” Ginny asked, half turning her head back towards him but not quite making it all the way, so that all Harry could see was the crest of her cheek, dusted with freckles, the ends of her eyelashes, the tip of her nose. He touched the whorl of hair at the nape of her neck with the index finger of his free hand, stroked it absently.

“Alright,” he said.

“We don’t have to,” she said, twisting her whole body around with some effort to keep her head in his lap. He knew she was looking at him very meaningfully, but he couldn’t look at her anymore, not while she was looking at him. He looked out over the yard.

“We have another hour until dinner,” he said, neither here nor there.

“At least,” she agreed, and he could feel her eyes looking for his.

“‘S’go, then.” He put a hand on her shoulder, helping her heave up into a sitting position, pushed her until she could stand with little effort. She offered a hand down to him, but he was already halfway up. The curtain of her hair hid most of her face but her smile. He smiled, too.

They wound their way through the kitchen, Molly stopping them to taste her bolognese, Harry offering no meaningful feedback, Ginny suggesting that she add more thyme, or oregano, or whatever that greeny flavor was. They moved up the stairs in silence, the passageway too narrow to even hold hands, really, so Harry let Ginny’s fall from his. She turned to look at him, he glanced over his shoulder like maybe he had forgotten something behind them. She kept walking, and he followed.

Having sex with Ginny was very soft. Her body became very shy, pliable, with his own. It usually happened the same way each time, which wasn’t a bad thing because Harry liked knowing what to expect. But this time, as Ginny was crowded in over him, curled into the nape of his neck, soft little sounds barely audible through her closed lips buried in the place where his shoulder began, Harry thought of Draco Malfoy.

Would he be mean in bed, Harry wondered? Would he be as soft as Ginny, or would it feel harder, more angular, with all those pointy elbows and that pointy nose? Would he be so pliant? Or would he be bossy and indignant and call him Potter with venom?

He tried to focus on Ginny, the soft skin of the small of her back. He thought perhaps the cruelest thought of his life, which is that he wished she wouldn’t be so kind to him when they were like this. It was cruel because he had never even admitted out loud to anyone, to her, to himself, that this was even something that they did together. He had never told her what he wanted from her. She was groping in the dark, taking what he would give her, giving what she thought, or hoped, he wanted in return. And still, he wished she were different.

When he squirmed out from under her, trembling, she didn’t ask why. She pulled on her sweater and a pair of underpants, found his clothes in the corner and brought them to him. She touched his shivering shoulder with a warm hand, squeezed it, and went downstairs.

Harry wished that she had made fun of him. Maybe not after, but during. That she had told him that he was desperate for it, told him shhh, that she’d give him what he wanted, eventually. Asked him if trusting her was that hard, really? Told him not to finish, she wasn’t done with him yet.

Alone in Ginny’s bedroom, Harry cradled his head in his hands and tried very hard not to wish that Draco Malfoy were there, despite knowing that Draco wouldn’t have been the fun kind of cruel. He would have spat in Harry’s face, clawed at his chest, bitten him sharply right where it hurt most. But he knew that, despite all that, it still would have felt better than Ginny and him almost breaking apart together. Better than Ginny desperately trying not to hurt him.

He gave up and wished that Draco was there to be mean to him while they fucked.

#hpdm #hp fic #harry potter fan fiction #drarry #drarry fanfic #hpdm fanfic #hinny #sad hinny #draco malfoy #harry potter #drarry ficlet #drarry drabble #Harry Potter being sad

[authorjoydragon]

87. Harry & Ginny :)

Pregnancy but it’s Harry who is scared

87- "Don't be scared. I'm right here." Hinny (Harry Potter)

Ginny beamed, pleased with the muggle test. It had worked—muggles had the most interesting ways to get around the world without magic.

She washed the stick off thoroughly before placing it in the box and wrapping it in tissue paper. She’d seen on the internets that’s how the muggles did it. Harry would be so surprised, she couldn’t wait to show him.

With a single rose and a bow on the small box, she sat the surprise down on the kitchen table for Harry to see when he walked in.

The excitement and anticipation felt like wiggling snakes in her stomach. She could hardly contain herself. Waiting for him would take forever, maybe she should apparate to his office? She knew his classes were over—oh but what if he had to work late to tutor a student or—

Pop.

Ginny jumped as Harry apparated right into the kitchen.

“Sorry for spooking you, Gin.” He walked up and wrapped his arms around her. She settled back against his familiar warmth.

“And what’s this? Another spontaneous gift?” Harry chuckled.

Ginny bounced out of his arms and grabbed the box, presenting it to him eagerly. She grinned wide, “Open it!”

He laughed again, taking the box from her and lifting the lid. It was strange—he never got gifts as a child and was still awkward at accepting them, but Ginny had a love of giving gifts, and giving in general despite her family having little material things growing up. She loved to shower him in gifts now, not always the expensive kind, but always the thoughtful kind.

Harry didn’t know what to expect, but what he saw certainly wasn’t it. Time seemed to freeze as he saw the little plus sign on the pregnancy test laying in the tissue.

“Harry?”

Ginny gently took the box from him and sat it back down at the table. She gripped his shaking hands and ducked her head to look into his wide green eyes.

“Harry, sweetie, don’t be scared. I’m right here. It’s okay.”

They practiced synchronizing their breaths, something they often did to help with their PTSD from the war.

Eventually Harry calmed down, resting his forehead against hers. “A child… Gin, I have no clue how to be a father. I—I never had a family, I don’t—”

“Nonsense.” She frowned at him and took his face into her hands. “You’re already a father figure to Teddy. You learned how to be from Remus and Sirius and Hagrid and my own dad. You’ll be a fantastic father. And I’m already your family. Have been long since before we were married. Don’t tell my mum otherwise.”

Harry blew out a startled laugh. She was right.

“We…we’ll be fine, won’t we?” Harry placed his palm on her lower stomach.

Ginny held it there, beaming up at him. “Course we will be, babe.”

#ask joy #ficlet #writing prompt #Harry Potter #hinny #hinny fluff #slight angst #pregnancy

[pottergarden]

Is Harry Potter…

AO3

“Hey, I’m Harry Potter and this is a Wired Autocomplete Interview.”

Harry sits facing forward in a chair, with a deep, white backdrop behind him. His legs are stretched forward in front of him, crossed at the ankles. He holds a large white piece of paper board loosely in front of him. On the board is a Google search containing the words, “is Harry Potter.” Below this are several search results, partially covered in strips of white paper.

“Okay. So, the first card are all ‘is Harry Potter’ searches so let’s see what you’ve been wondering.”

“Is Harry Potter…” a ripping sound can be heard as Harry pulls off the paper covering the second half of the question. “…The Chosen One.”

Harry laughs softly as he glances away, looking rather embarrassed.

“I suppose? I mean, the thing I was chosen for is kinda all wrapped up now, so…” he trails off, the sound of crumpling paper coming from his hand.

He continues to the next line, tearing at the paper over the last word.

“Is Harry Potter… dead?”

Harry waits for the laughter off-camera to subside before deadpanning, “No, sorry to disappoint.”

Rip. “Where is Harry Potter?”

Harry looks into the camera now and answers cheekily, “Oh, you know. Around.”

Rip. “Where is Harry Potter…” Rip. “…From?”

“Oh, interesting,” says Harry with some enthusiasm. He seems more impressed with this question than the previous few. “I’m from Surrey. My Aunt and Uncle’s place is there. And before that, the village of Godric’s Hollow.”

“How tall is Harry Potter?”

“I’m actually not sure. I haven’t been properly measured in ages. But I know my best mate, Ron, is 6’4” or so? Sooo, based on that I’d guess maybe I’m, er, about 6ft? I dunno.”

“Right, do I set this down?” he asks the crew members offscreen, holding the card aloft. After a muffled response, and Harry says, “Oh, okay” with a laugh, throwing the card to the floor next to him.

He holds up a new white card, who’s words are covered minus scatterings of, “does Harry Potter.”

“Does Harry Potter…” Rip. “…Have a scar?”

“You know, I used to get this question a lot more when I first joined the Wizarding World and went to Hogwarts for the first time. Everyone wanted to see my scar and would recognize me off that. I started getting into the habit of sort of nervously flattening my hair over it when lots of people were staring at me. I still do it unconsciously even though I realize it’s useless. Enough people have seen my picture in the papers and wanted posters, that they all recognize me off my face.” he finishes, appearing rather disappointed by this.

“Does Harry Potter… have a girlfriend.”

“I knew this was coming. And I’d rather not say. I don’t know that it’s anyone’s business, really,” he notes firmly.

“Does Harry Potter.. play Quiddich!”

“Yes!” Harry exclaims, looking suddenly energized. “Yes, I was a part of the Gryffindor team on and off since my first year. I didn’t get to play as much as I would’ve liked, because of all the nonsense that happened at the school while I was there. But yeah, I got to be Captain in my sixth year, which was great.” He smiles softly for a moment, looking lost in the memory. “Quidditch was definitely a highlight of my time at Hogwarts. I just wish I could’ve played more.”

Lifting another new card to his chest, Harry declares, “Now, ‘Can Harry.’”

“Can Harry Potter… speak Parseltongue.”

“Actually, I’m not sure that I can anymore! I hadn’t even thought about it since Voldemort died!” And addressing the crew with a smile, “Does anyone have a snake laying around I could try talking to?”

“Can Harry Potter… produce.. a Patronus.”

“Yes, my Defense professor, Remus Lupin, taught me in my third year because the dementors were affecting me quite badly. It’s a stag, same as my dad.”

“Can I marry Harry Potter.”

“Oh, god,” he mumbles, suddenly shrinking in the chair by a fraction. “Erm… I’m flattered you imagine you’d want to do that.. but erm… probably not.”

“Can Harry Potter… play Chaser.”

“Yes? I can, I do prefer playing Seeker though.”

Next card in hand, Harry says, “Alright. Did Harry Potter. This one seems a bit longer than the others. I suppose I’ve done a fair amount of noteworthy things.”

“Did Harry Potter… kill You-Know-Who.”

“I mean, technically Voldemort’s own Killing Curse rebound onto him when his wand refused to kill me…”he trails off, thinking. “But essentially, yes, I did.”

“Did Harry Potter… have private lessons with Dumbledore.”

“As I mentioned in my Ministry testimony, they were more like research sessions than lessons,” says Harry matter-of-factly, leaving it at that.

“Did Harry Potter… kill Dumbledore.”

Harry takes a moment to audibly sigh.

“This question has to be because of that awful Daily Prophet article where they sort of implied that I killed him.” He suddenly looks rather tired. “I’ve had a really rocky relationship with The Prophet since the Triwizard Tournament days. They have a great habit of punching me when I’m down. The year after Voldemort’s return was one of the most difficult of my life. I was very alone and The Prophet definitely was a big reason for that.”

“And they wonder why I won’t give them an interview now!” he jokes with a touch of venom.

“Did Harry Potter… enter the.. Triwizard Tournament.”

“No,” he rebukes seriously, sounding a little annoyed now. “A Death Eater named Barty Crouch Jr. entered me. Looking back now, I don’t know why I couldn’t have just not shown up to the tasks? Or maybe declare that I forfeit before each one? It was all very strange.”

“Did Harry Potter… defeat Slytherin’s monster.”

“Yes, the Chamber of Secrets was opened by Tom Riddle in my second year. Ron and I went down to the chamber, and I stabbed the basilisk with the Sword of Gryffindor. Fun times,” he adds dryly.

“Alright. Last one, yes?” Harry questions while pulling the ‘Why Harry Potter’ card to himself.

“Why is Harry Potter… The Chosen One.”

“Well,” begins Harry patiently, “there was a prophecy made about a person with the power to vanquish The Dark Lord, and Voldemort decided that that person was me. So, as usual, you can blame him.”

“Why did Harry Potter… defeat You-Know-Who.”

“I would’ve thought it was obvious, what with all the murder!” laughs Harry. He waits again for the laughter off-camera to calm before continuing.

“Seriously though, I know most people think I did what I did because Dumbledore made me. They think he basically manipulated me into giving my life to stop Voldemort, but I just don’t see it that way. I defeated Voldemort because I wanted to. And, I think I would’ve wanted to with or without Dumbledore.”

“I would’ve had a totally different life if it weren’t for Voldemort, one with a lot less fear and pain. I had to stop him for myself and for everyone that’s suffered because of him.”

“Why is Harry Potter so brave.”

“That’s very nice of you to say,” mumbles Harry. He looks down at his lap, taking a moment to parse through his thoughts. “Erm… I think I just really hate letting people down. So, I do what I have to to make sure everyone is safe and happy.”

Muffled sounds of applause fill the air around the camera.

”Thank you guys for inviting me today,” beams Harry, addressing the off-camera crew. “It was great meeting you all.”

—

#harry potter fanfiction #Harry Potter fic #hp ficlet #hinny #harry potter

[takearisk-xo]

tenth anniversary

written for @hinnyfest prompt #2: i did something bad *content warning* death of a small rodent

The fire crackled merrily in the grate while snow floated past the front windows in gentle spirals. Ginny lounged on the sofa, basking in silence for the first time in a week. Christmas always had the tendency to come and go in a whirlwind, each year that much more chaotic as the girls got older, and this year had been no different. 

A whole host of new toys, books, sweets, and jumpers lay scattered throughout the cottage. She’d given up trying to tidy as it seemed every time she’d begun to pick up a room, someone, or several someones, would go behind her and destroy it all over again.

As an anniversary gift, her mum had blessedly offered to take the girls for the night. However, she’d said it with such an expectant expression that there was only one possible ulterior motive. In response, Ginny had rolled her eyes so violently they almost stuck in the top of her head; just because they had one night to themselves didn’t mean they would all the sudden try for a third.

Not a chance. They were too fucking tired. 

An echoing thud, followed by a loud swear, resounded through the ceiling and Ginny peered upwards curiously. Harry had disappeared a half an hour ago, but she hadn’t really thought anything of it. Until now. 

After a few quiet moments, she heard more swearing, then frantic footsteps in the upstairs hall.

Harry thundered down the stairs, rattling the whole house and whipping around the corner into the sitting room. 

His face was flushed and his expression panicked as he blurted, “I did something bad.”

Ginny sighed and sat up, her blissful reprieve from chaos apparently over.

“Reparo bad,” she yawned. “Or vanish the evidence bad?”

Harry stared at her with wide eyes. “Shovel bad.”

“What?”

She stood in a rush, following after Harry as he dashed back up the stairs. Ginny took them two at a time, her dozy brain returning to alert with each step. He led her halfway down the hall and then turned to stand in their daughters’ bedroom doorway. 

Peering around him, Ginny took in the riot of dress up costumes, toy broomsticks, and doll houses, until her gaze landed on a furry purple lump in the middle of the room. 

“Bridget!” she gasped and clapped her hands over her mouth. 

“I didn’t mean to!” Harry cried, his face positively miserable. 

Ginny took a few steps into the bedroom and crouched down next to the little pygmy puff. “You killed her!”

He winced. “Maybe she isn’t dead?”

“She’s squashed flat!”

“It was an accident!”

“Did you step on her?”

“No,” Harry scrubbed a hand down his face. “I fell on her.”

Ginny remembered the loud thud and bit back a laugh. “What were you doing?”

“I-” he faltered, embarrassment clouding his features. 

Eyes widening in clarity, her mouth dropped open. “You were wearing those dream specs they got from Percy, weren’t you!?”

“No!” Harry insisted, then he let out a resigned huff. “Alright, fine. I was, but it’s not my fault they’re brilliant-”

“Unbelievable.” Ginny scooped up the tiny corpse and grimaced. It was still warm. She held her hands out but Harry took a half step back. 

“Er-” He stammered. “You’ve got it handled.”

“Harry Potter, you take this dead pygmy puff this instant!”

“How about this,” he took another step backwards, fully into the hallway. “You dispose of the body, and I’ll go to Diagon and pick out another one?”

“How about you go bury it since you killed it!” Ginny shrieked. “And I’ll go to Diagon and pick out another one!”

Harry was shaking his head before she even finished speaking. “Seems like a lose-lose.”

“If you don’t take it right now,” she said in her most threatening voice. “I’ll tell Lily.”

His eyes sharpened. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“You want to try me?”

He stared at her for the space of three seconds, sizing her up. “How about I dig the hole, then we both go to Diagon?”

“That still leaves me holding a dead pygmy puff!”

“That’s the cost of being my accomplice, I'm afraid.”

Ginny groaned impatiently. “Fine! Just hurry! I can feel it’s little broken bones-”

Harry gagged.

.

.

.

EPILOGUE

Bridget 2.0 lived a long, full life of snickersnacks and cuddles. And Lily Luna never questioned why her royal purple pygmy puff all the sudden turned periwinkle. 

#hinnyfest #hinny #hinny ficlet #tpfy epilogue? #lets just say all my hinnyfest ficlets are tpfy epilogues #the path from you #my fic

[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

[sitp-recs]

AO3 Wrapped - 15 rare pair recs

God bless the rare pairs! I haven’t read much in 2023 but what I’ve read definitely left a lasting impression on me. The @dronarryfest stole the show alongside some delicious Kinkuary treats, but I’m happy that I found time to explore wlw and one or two new ships. A massive shoutout to these incredible creators for sharing brilliant works with us. Please give them some love! Here's to a wonderful 2024 with more rare pair galore 🥂

💍 Something Old, Something New by @indigo-scarf (T, 3k) - Droyle

queerplatonic relationship | weddings | fluff

Draco said he would marry Goyle if they ended up single.

⚖️ One or the Other by @sleepstxtic (E, 3k) - Dorcas/Narcissa, Dorcas/Marlene

war fic | spy Dorcas | infidelity

Dorcas becomes a murderer at eight o’clock on a Friday night.

🛏️ The Roommates by @citrusses (E, 3.6k) - Sirius/Draco, endgame Drarry

rough sex | voyeurism | light D/s

Harry would later wonder if, that first time it happened, he hadn’t been meant to find out all along.

📷 collarbones like a bow, skin an arrow to the heart by @lqtraintracks (E, 4k) - Ginsy

non-binary Ginny | UST | Daddy kink

Gin’s adjusting the lighting for their next shoot when in walks the new model Luna was so enthusiastic about, and that’s when they know they’re in deep shit.

🪢 As We Tremble and We Bleed by @lqtraintracks (E, 6k) - Hardy

angst with a happy ending | infidelity (Hinny) | family dynamics

Or: Everybody commits angsty-hot adultery, is mostly miserable, and then finds happiness.

💧Boy Wonder by @maesterchill (E, 6k) - Dronarry

getting together | threesome | dacryphilia

Ron Weasley is a people guy. Gets on well with others, loves to socialise. Despite that, he can never figure people out. When Hermione reveals a very intimate secret about Harry, Ron begins to wonder about a few things.

♟️ Can't Start a Fire Without a Spark by @writcraft (E, 8k) - Rarry

friends to lovers | jealousy | first time (Ron)

It’s getting harder to hear about Harry’s casual one-night stands, but Ron can’t work out why. He meets plenty of women, he wants his friend to be happy and it can’t be jealousy, because Ron is straight. Isn’t he?

🪶 Let Be, Let Be by @tackytigerfic (M, 10k) - Dronarry

established Drarry | Veela!Ron | jealousy | magical theory

Ron's never had a place to really call his own, so when the deeds to an ancient magical house in Bulgaria appear in his Gringotts vault, he ropes in his Curse-Breaker best friend (and his Curse-Breaker best friend's Field Healer boyfriend) to come and check the place out with him.

🐺 Stopper & Reeve by @vdoshu (E, 10k) - Tedrarry

established Drarry | knotting | breeding kink | sex toys

Teddy gets his very first knot stuck in his fleshlight. And somehow that’s not the worst part of his day.

🐉 The Sun, Shining Above You by @oknowkiss (E, 14k) - Dronarry

dragon tamers Drarry | hurt/comfort | D/s undertones

Since joining up with the dragontamers, Draco counts his days in nights. Nights spent drinking in the commune mess, making poor choices he doesn't regret, for once. Nights he doesn't remember, and nights he wishes he could stop remembering.

🪴 Silhouettes by @sweet-s0rr0w (E, 17k) - Dronarry

established Rarry | sentient houses | grief | gardening

Draco's trying to fix the Burrow, Ron's trying to grieve, and Harry... well, just what is Harry actually doing, anyway? A tale of grief, gardening, and ghouls, bad memories, bad puns, and bad flirting, and nudity both accidental and very, very deliberate.

🧩 Things Remembered by avioleta (E, 17k) - Harry/Snape

memory loss | murder boyfriends | first time

Harry wakes up in an unfamiliar bed, in an unfamiliar hotel room, and with absolutely no idea who he is. The man he’s in bed with has no memories either. But they think, maybe, they’re assassins, because they seem to be very good at killing people.

🌶️ 🪙 Kinkuary collection by @sorrybutblog (E, 20k) - multiple ships & kinks

A collection of smutty ficlets written for HP Kinkuary 2023. Tags will be updated as chapters are added. Pairings are in chapter headings!

📻 empire builders by shecrows (E, 25k) - James/Sirius

friends to lovers | power dynamics | coming of age

James, Sirius, and a summer in the south of Devon.

🌶️ 🐺 Kinkuary collection by @wolfpants (E, 42k) - multiple ships & kinks

A collection of 28 short fics spanning different pairings and inspired by the Kinkuary 2023 prompts! A mix of M and E ratings. Expect rare pairs, Drarry, crossgen, group sex, dirtyhotwrong... you name it!

#ao3 wrapped #hp rare pair #Sitp faves

[blinkngone]

tides and hurricanes.

At eighteen, she dreams of Harry, only him. The calluses of his palms on the underside of her breasts, his warm mouth on the inside of her wrists, his smile on her cheek.

She dreams of Harry, and when she wakes up, he’s there beside her, lean and beautiful. Mussed hair and magic. He’s beside her every morning, and Ginny doesn’t know where her dreams end, where her reality begins.

Between the two of them, there is Chinese food in plastic containers, and summer barbecues at the Burrow; walking around Muggle London holding hands, kissing at midnight on New Year’s Eve, failed attempts to cook pasta. There is: licking ice-cream off each other, raising goosebumps along the curve of the spine with fingertips, shagging at the kitchen countertop. There are a million i love yous.

And then when she’s eighteen, between them is also Italy. The two of them in love, roaming about in hot, cobbled streets. Eating at tables on the sides of pavements, with men and women who’ve loved for hundreds of years. Who love one another still.

Italy is endless sunshine.

Ginny in string bikinis, freckles blooming on her nose and collarbones. Her long, elegant fingers around cocktail glasses. Harry, tanned and besotted. Slavishly in love with her.

There is touching her hip bones with his broad palms under the water that is blue and green, and all shades in between. There is standing in front of her to block the sun, kissing her with the sun warming his back.

Between them, there are visits to cavernous churches, the smell of incense, the prayers of Italian children who want more toys. One time, he holds her in front of the statue of Our Lady, the light from the stained glass falling on them, standing there and saying nothing. Perhaps silently saying: let us always stay like this, together.

At night, there is star-gazing. Mad dancing at piazzas. Feeding each other lobster meat across the wooden table, playing footsie underneath it like stupid kids.

Afterwards, there is tasting the ocean on each other’s skin. Moving in a practiced rhythm, connected like the waves of the ocean. Sometimes, they create tides that ebb and flow gently. Sometimes, they create hurricanes.

#harrypotter #harryxginny #hinny #hp #hinny headcanon #jkr #fic #hbp #ficlet #dh #harry and ginny #comeback fic idk what this is

[eastwindmlk]

New and In Progress

Echoes of Tuning Hearts || Jily 9/10 Chapters. 27.5K Words (when finished). Band AU. || tumblr post Updating every Thursday

As a favour to a friend, Lily took a job as tour manager for a growing local band: Mischief Managed. What she did not expect is that three years later she would still be travelling around with the merry band of troublemakers. While she had no problem dealing with the usual shenanigans, there was one member that seemed bound to making her life more difficult than it needed to be. James Potter, guitarist. With his stupidly charming smile, magnetic personality and endless parade of hook-ups that should leave her unbothered, but don’t is the bane of her existence. So why can’t she stay away from him?

Astral Alignment: The sun and her moon || Dramione 2/? Chapters. ? || tumblr post Updating every Monday

After a meet cute in muggle London Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger strike up an unlikely comradery over text. Now, after months of texting and friendship the pair admit to having feeling for each other. Something Draco reckons is bad for Hermione's career. He just cannot say no to Hermione and push comes to shove and their lives are turned upside down.

Curses and Caves|| 2/2 Chapters. 6.9K Words. Canon Divergence. || tumblr post

Hermione Granger is one of the most successful researchers in The Department of Enchanted Object Salvage and Magical Extraction. She and her partner boast one of the highest success rates they've ever seen. Which she attributes to her impeccable planning and meticulousness. From her office, she guides her partner through all the challenges he faces in the field. All the while maintaining a steady stream of banter. Something that is easier said then done when your partner is Draco Malfoy.

Living Memory|| Hinny OneShot. 2.9K Words. MCD but fluffy. || tumblr post

Harry receives an owl with news he never expected to get, because some people are supposed to live forever.

Roped In|| Prongsfoot OneShot. 1K Words. T-Rated tension || tumblr post

James comes home and his boyfriend has plans with him.

Versions of Us|| Ongoing Microfic collection. between 0 - 2000 words. Various ratings.

A collection of short ficlets based on the Jilymicrofic prompts

↓ Completed fics ↓

Jily

Put on Bedrest|| Jily Oneshot. 1.5K Words. Fluff. || tumblr post

Hogwarts is covered in snow and James Potter is sick. Who better than Lily to nurse him back to health.

Sacrum Libera | Jily Oneshot. 2.8K Words. Canon-compliant. || tumblr post

During patrol, Lily and James find a mysterious piece of paper that leads them to trouble

Healers Orders || Jily Oneshot. 1.7K Words. Rated E || tumblr post

Stuck in their flat, they find themselves bored and horny. One small problem: The healer said no touching each other.

Diagnoses: Dateable || Oneshot. 1.9K Words. Rated G. || tumblr post

Holiday fluff, Muggle AU

Lucky Charm || Oneshot. 432 Words. Rated G. || tumblr post

Just a little fluff

Coffee & Cream || Jily Oneshot. 6.5K Words. Rated E || tumblr post

When James breaks up with Lily, she is fine. She has plenty of things to distract her from it and it barely hurts. Until it does and she makes a series of bad decisions. 1. Go drinking alone 2. Figure out the landline is connected 3-6. Call James and leave him a voicemail 7. Meet him for coffee. Or was that just what they needed?

Dramione

Dragon in the Deep || Dramione Oneshot. 9.3K Words. Rated E. || tumblr post

Hermione overhears a suspicious conversation in the ministry cafeteria that leads her to the shores of Loch Ness for an encounter with an unexpected creature.

Blessed in Darkness || Dramione Oneshot. 5.3K Words. Rated E. || tumblr post

She had been his secret for a long time, ever since they were children. Always forced to meet clandestinely. At first, innocently behind the billowing laundry to hold hands and play. Then, at dusk to talk for hours on end and steal kisses. The hour of their meetings got later when they matured and so would their meetings. Until one night, a plan was formed. A plan that would cost her her humanity and him his sight.

The Key in Silence || Oneshot. 3.3K Words. Rated M. || tumblr post || Mind the tags

Community service. Fucking community service is what they gave him. After the war, Draco watched his friends go through their trials. Every single one of them got to be ‘rehabilitated’ with a slap on the wrist. They got to go back to Hogwarts and finish their education. Which, fair enough, was punishment in and of itself. But no, they had to make an example of him. Which just so happened to involve lime-green robes. Instead of going back to Hogwarts, Draco is assigned an apprenticeship at St Mungo's, here he runs into the last person he expected to see: Hermione Granger. The war clearly had been unkind to both of them, and both of them are now facing the consequences of their actions.

Desk Delights || Oneshot. 3.9K Words. Rated E || tumblr post

Draco Malfoy was always a thorn in Hermione's sight, and now they were working together. Or rather, he was working for her and he hated it. Their squabbles and heated arguments getting them a one-way ticket to the HR-department. The problem is. She could not tell if they were in trouble for what happens in the day-to-day or the unfortunate 'incident' where things got a little too heated.

Other

By any other name || Oneshot. 1.6K Words. Rated G. || tumblr post

Remus Lupin has been teaching at Hogwarts for a while. Things are starting to fall into place. Everything except for one thing. One name, to be precise.

Jily

The Boy (in the bedroom) Next Door|| 9/9 Chapters. 20K Words. No Voldemort AU. || tumblr post

1986 Lily Evans has to move in with her new potion's teacher to finish her apprenticeship. There is one small issue, said teacher? Fleamont Potter, father of infinitely annoying and frustratingly fit former rival James Potter. Who she has not seen after leaving Hogwarts after her third year…

One Kiss at Midnight|| 4/4 Chapters. 7.2K Words. Fake Dating.

When Lily receives a letter from home with her mother's plans for the New Year's charity ball, she learns that her mother has promised she would spend time with Matthew. A muggle boy that had been trying to win her affections for far too long now. To save herself from having to spend time with him, she tells a little white lie. She has a boyfriend. However, instead of defusing the situation, her mother decides she wants to meet this mysterious boyfriend. Now Lily has the choice: Admit to her mother she has lied or find herself someone willing to play along.

Dramione

Astral Alignments || 4/4 Chapters + preview. 18.2K Words. Text fic. || tumblr post

One night after going out, Hermione Granger runs into Draco Malfoy at a fast-food restaurant scrounging for muggle money. She helps him out and they exchange numbers. What neither of them expect is for them to bond over late night texting about nightmares and adjusting to life after the war.

These are all fics I am working on but not actively they are just so happen to be Dramione

The Cat's Cradle || 1/2 Chapters. 3.1K Words. Canon Divergence. || tumblr post

Draco Malfoy is found dead in his bed one morning, and no one knows what happened. But everything points to Hermione Granger having something to do with it.

#jily #jily fic #marauders fanfiction #dramione #dramione fic #my fanfiction #my writing #my wips #Tanja's Terrific Library