#i had hinny microfic fomo

[whinlatter]

think (harry/ginny) | a microfic

day 13 of @hinnymicrofic | prompt: think

He showers quick, tries to scrub the train off him. Snorts at the sight of Vernon’s large bottle of hair-thickening shampoo. Having stared at his uncle’s head all the way back from London, he reckons Vernon’s due a refund.

There's some lurid deodorant of Dudley's - hair gel, too, looks cheap and shit. He feels a stab of pity for whichever poor girl his cousin’s trying to scrub up for these days. Dudley trying to pull, he thinks with a laugh, Christ. But thoughts of pulling lead to thoughts of girls, which lead, inevitably, to thoughts of Ginny.

He shoves the hair gel back on the shelf. Adds Dudley pulling to the don’t think about it list he’d started making on the train, somewhere around the Cumbrian border, when Ron had offered him a Caramel Kappa, Ginny’s favourite, and he’d wanted to throw up all over the chess board.

The Dursleys had waited all of two seconds after he’d slammed the car boot shut before speeding off to dinner at some miserable gastropub off the M3. Suits him fine, wants to be alone. He stabs a fork through the plastic film of his ready-meal, makes sure to puncture the yellow reduced sticker Petunia's left on for his benefit, and watches the bright white of the mashed potato atop the shepherd’s pie whirling around in the microwave. 

You know, it’s made from real shepherd, he’d said to Ginny once. That’s such a dad joke, she’d said, and he’d said I wouldn’t know and she’d said Potter you get one dead dad joke a day and you already used today’s up at breakfast. Shepherd’s pie is on the don’t think about it list, then, he thinks, just before he burns his fingers sliding the ready meal onto a tray. Probably best add cottage pie, too, same idea. Maybe all savoury pies, play it safe.

He flops down on the sofa, feet up on the coffee table, eats straight from the hot plastic as he flicks through channels. The nine o'clock news is all budget this, Hong Kong that, Tim Henman out at Wimbledon. The nine o’clock news is not Dumbledore's dead, Snape murdered him, there’s a war on, Harry Potter's dropped out of school to go hunt bits of Voldemort's dismembered soul. 

Dropped out of school, he thinks. Scandalous, delinquent. What d'you reckon? he asks the Ginny in his head. Harry Potter, troubled dropout? Do anything for you? The Ginny in his head laughs. It’d be fun if she were here, he thinks, curled up next to him on this ugly sofa, taking the piss out of Petunia’s cushion covers and Dudley’s wrestling trophies. Imagines taking her up to his bedroom, pointing out the lamp Dobby whacked himself around the head with. But then the Ginny in his head looks at him and says I never really gave up on you and I knew this would happen in the end, and it all bursts, shatters into a hundred dusty pieces.

He chucks the rest of the meal in the bin, adds dropping out of school to the stupid list. Might as well add the budget, Hong Kong and Tim Henman, why not.

Turns off the telly, goes upstairs and lies on his bed, fully-clothed, staring up at the ceiling, because on the walk from the living room to his bedroom the list has expanded to include his trunk (train, Hogwarts, Ginny), his jumper (still smells a bit like her on the left arm, pathetic), and Hedwig (how does it feel knowing your owl prefers me, Potter?).

He stares out of the window for a while, eyes next door's new extension, which sort of works - ugly nothing suburbia - until he remembers the twins and Ron at the window in a flying Ford Anglia, zooming him off to the Burrow where a little red headed girl is blushing and sticking her elbow in the butter dish and god, this really is shit, isn't it, they weren't lying. She knew then, of course she did. He's never been good at thinking of nothing, has he, and he's thought about her as he falls asleep every day since about October, so what chance does he have now?

He's dreading the dreams the most, knows they'll be unbearable. Almost hopes he dreams of lockets and green light and dead headmasters. Can't be worse than bright brown eyes, freckles on a bottom lip (how do you even get freckles on your bottom lip, Gin? Don't be jealous of my freckles, Potter, just because your skin's so boring), the smell of her hair (what do you mean my hair smells? What is that supposed to mean? Why are you laughing?) and the sound of her laugh and her gasps and the sound of her breathing, soft, lying beside him under the cloak on the lakeshore. Looking down under the table at dinner, seeing her thigh next to his on the bench, hand on his knee, body drawn to his, magnets, magic.

When he wakes groggily the next day - crick in his neck, still in his jeans - his first thought is: he's overslept. He’s missed Ginny on her way down to breakfast, going to be late for Potions, fucked it.

But no, of course not. There’s no Ginny, no breakfast, no Potions. Might still have fucked it, though, who's to say. Don't, he tells himself, as he heads for the bathroom to scrub the night off him, just don't think about it.

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#look i’m sorry #i had hinny microfic fomo #couldn’t resist #missed writing harry pov too much #hinny microfic #hinny #writing #fic #ginny weasley #harry potter #harry x ginny #big 1997 mood #tim henman cameo for the tennis fans #microfic

[seriouslysam8]

April Prompt #10: Scream for @hinnymicrofic

A scream jolted Harry awake, his body tensing as he scrambled for his wand on his bedside table. He was out of bed in a split second, his heart threatening to burst out of his chest as he bolted from the bedroom.

He slammed his body against the door that led to James’ room, knocking it off its hinges as it banged against the wall. With a wave of his wand, the room burst to light.

James sat on his bed, knees drawn to his chest, with tears pouring down his face. Harry’s eyes darted around the room, looking for an intruder. Except there was none.

Ginny rushed into the room, tying her dressing gown around her body as she made a beeline to their son. Within moments, she had him on her lap, his body wrapped around her very pregnant belly. Harry just stood there, his hand still wrapped around the doorknob. He pulled it towards him, peering around the broken door to make sure nobody was there.

“It was a nightmare, Harry,” Ginny said as she rocked James back and forth in her arms, smoothing his hair down as best as she could.

Harry swallowed, the tension easing from his body. He made his way over to the bed and sat down next to his wife, his hand pressing between James’ tiny shoulder blades.

“What happened?” a squeaky voice called from the hall. “I heard Jamie screaming.”

Harry looked up to see Teddy standing there, his eyes wide with fear as he looked at the scene in front of him.

“Nothing, mate, just a bad dream,” Harry replied as he gestured for Teddy to join them.

Relief flooded the child’s face as he rushed into the room and then jumped on the bed, clamoring into Harry’s lap. He snuggled against Harry’s chest, his little hand reaching out for James’.

“It’s all right, Jamie. Nothing bad can happen when we’re all together,” he whispered.

Harry couldn’t keep the smile from creeping on his face. He’d take battling bad dreams over evil wizards any day.

#hinny microfic #I had fomo #I miss writing Hinny as parents