#i have seven chapters planned and 2 more fully drafted so expect updates sooner rather than later i hope!

[narukoibito]

since feeling is first who pays any attention

Summary: Ginny has done her fair share of watching Harry over the years.

AO3 | FF.net

Note: This was originally a gift for the wonderful @remedialpotions for the 2020 Harry & Ginny Discord's Incognito Elf gift exchange that I always wanted to rework before posting! I decided to expand it and add more missed moments, one for each of Ginny's years at Hogwarts.

Special thank you to @takearisk-ao3 who not only beta'ed last minute but also created the above beautiful banner when she had no idea what this story was about aside from my poor vibe descriptions! And, hah, it's my birthday again, so why not post today?

since feeling is first who pays any attention to the syntax of things will never wholly kiss you; wholly to be a fool while Spring is in the world

my blood approves and kisses are a better fate than wisdom lady i swear by all flowers. Don't cry —the best gesture of my brain is less than your eyelids' flutter which says

we are for each other: then laugh, leaning back in my arms for life's not a paragraph

and death i think is no parenthesis

— e. e. cummings

i.

Ginny presses her face against the wall, peeking between the stair spindles. Her eye lands on the two boys hunched over a chessboard. It’s her brother Ron and Harry Potter, who, despite appearing to be losing, doesn’t seem the least bit upset.

Harry Potter.

The Harry Potter is in her house. Looking comfortable on their couch despite the faded, mended cushions. His face crinkles in laughter at something Ron says, his green eyes bright with contentment. Ginny doesn’t miss the occasional look of awe at the things she has always taken for granted. It’s almost as if he can’t believe he is really here in their ordinary home.

He isn’t what she expected—isn’t what she imagined he would look like after all those years listening to Mum recite her favorite bedside story, about the heroic Savior of the Wizarding World. She had pictured neat hair, a dashing smile, someone who would recognize a comrade in her and take her on all sorts of adventures. He would be different. He wouldn’t discount her dreams of flying or of doing everything her brothers could and more. Instead, Harry Potter has the messiest hair ever, a sheepish smile, and clothes that he nearly swims in.

Oh, and he has somehow missed the memo and found a comrade in Ron instead.

Her fingers curl around the spindle. Not for the first time, a spike of envy shoots through her. If only she were a little older. Or a boy. Then maybe she would be the one playing chess with Harry. Maybe she would be the one to hide under his invisibility cloak and battle trolls and face You-Know-Who with him.

Ginny presses her face a little closer and lets out a sigh.

But Harry Potter is kind. He ignores all the times she has made a fool of herself. And he has the greenest eyes she’s ever seen. They are as green as those glowing jars of pickled toads at the apothecary Mum sometimes takes her to. Pretty and kind and not at all dismissive of her patched clothes or her glowing red face.

Harry Potter. If he likes Ron, if he actually likes the Burrow, if his face grimaces at the attention at Flourish and Blotts, could it be possible that one day he could like her too?

“Going to ask for his autograph, Ginny?”

Ginny lets out an uncharacteristic squeak as Fred sidles up against her, with George flanking her other side.

“Or are you going to yell at us about how the great Harry Potter is different?” George teases.

“Not just brave—”

“But humble too!”

“What a catch.” Fred pretends to swoon.

“If only he’d notice me, Fred.” George sighs dramatically.

Ginny glowers at them, shoving away from her hiding spot. “Stop it.”

“Or what?” Fred and George laugh, loudly enough that Ron and Harry glance over curiously. Already she can feel her face flame even as her eyes narrow.

“Or I’ll tell Mum about that powder you snuck into your rooms.”

She turns her heel just in time to see her brothers’ faces drain of color. With as much dignity she can muster, she storms back up the stairs. She immediately collapses on her bed, but the soft afghan does nothing to ease the embarrassment that burns behind her eyes.

The worst part is that there’s no one for her to talk to about how seeing Harry Potter—or him looking at her—sets off a blazing sensation somewhere in her chest that horrifically travels up to her face like a rash. It’s foreign and strange, nothing she’s ever experienced before.

She has no one to talk to about it. Ron has hardly spared her a second glance since Harry arrived. Fred and George tease her mercilessly. Percy, preoccupied with his shiny badge, just tells her she should focus on her studies so she can be a prefect like him one day. And there is no way Percy or Mum would let her borrow an owl to send a letter to Bill or Charlie.

Maybe some things are best kept secret. She’s used to taking matters in her own hands, picking locks the Muggle way after watching Fred and George do it. The hum of power under her fingers when she steals their brooms reminds her that age, gender, and size don’t define her. She’d rather they stop being berks and let her fly with them, but she has grown to love the uninhibited freedom of flying at night. And it’s made a touch sweeter by the thrill of something being just hers in a house and family where everything is shared.

Still. It would be nice to have someone to talk to, someone to confide in.

She’s brimming with foreign feelings, the bursting anticipation of finally, finally going to Hogwarts. It’s all she’s ever wanted since Bill went, so much that she snuck into his luggage, craving escapades and escape. All these feelings are strangely accentuated by Harry Potter in her home.

She lets out a sigh, finally unburying her flushed face. Her gaze falls on her cauldron, filled with the fanciest, most expensive, brand new books that Harry Potter had gifted her (her, not Ron, not anyone else). The thought makes her insides flutter.

Maybe if she studies hard, Harry Potter might see that she’s not too little and annoying. Maybe he will tell Ron to let her stay, let her join them.

Ginny is pulling out Year with the Yeti when a small black notebook slips onto the floor. She stares down at it for a moment, temporarily dazed. Had Dad bought this for her?

The little journal is faded but retains a simple prettiness, almost as if there’s more to it than its worn cover. Something about it seems to draw her in. Mum always says never judge a book by its cover.

She leans down to pick it up, and a small thrill shoots up her arm. Her fingers skim over the clean, crisp pages.

She hardly ever gets anything of her own.

So unaccustomed to being without someone her age, she’d taken to chronicling stories, events, and adventures—placeholders for the real thing—as a way to cope without her brothers. Dad would peek into her room sometimes, his eyes twinkling when he caught her writing. He must have known she’d want to remember every moment of her first year at Hogwarts. Ginny presses the book against her chest, falling back onto her bed.

How much of it will be filled with the Boy Who Lived?

#since feeling is first who pays any attention #ginny weasley #harry potter #missed moments #canon compliant #hinny #eventually #pining #i have seven chapters planned and 2 more fully drafted so expect updates sooner rather than later i hope! #also still working on unravel me #don't worry! #got quite a few words from nanowrimo for it but it needs more work #thank you everyone for all the birthday wishes already #i feel very loved #this is my gift to all of you #ginny weasley grows up one missed moment at a time