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narukoibito · 1 year

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since feeling is first who pays any attention — chapter two

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

AO3 | FF.net

Note: Thank you all for the wonderful birthday wishes last time! Hope you enjoy a glimpse of Ginny during Prisoner of Azkaban!

ii.

Ginny leans out of the train window, the cold metal and glass pressing against her stomach, waving to Mum and Dad as the train speeds away. The wind whips strands of her hair into her face, but that has nothing to do with the tears that well in her throat. She swallows them down, waving harder until the train turns a corner and blocks her parents from view.

She tries hard to not feel like a cloud has blocked the sun.

Ron stops waving beside her and turns his head toward Harry and Hermione.

“Go away, Ginny,” says Ron suddenly. His voice isn’t unkind, but the words sting.

“Oh, that’s nice,” Ginny huffs.

Her eyes flicker to Hermione’s apologetic smile and then to Harry’s green eyes for just an unbearable second before she automatically looks away. She holds her breath, but neither says anything.

Right then. Ginny lifts her chin and stalks off, anger and sadness churning inside her.

You would think saving someone’s life might bring you closer to them. Form a bond, perhaps. But as always, that would be asking for too much, wouldn’t it? Instead, her embarrassment around Harry Potter has only worsened over time.

All summer, she bottled up the scorching Egyptian sunlight, letting it spread through her body to dispel a haunting coldness that resided in the darker corners under her skin. It was easy to block out what happened when she was surrounded by family; Dad’s warm hand on her head, Mum’s soft hugs, and even her brothers’ annoying hovering were a comfort.

Each day, blinding gratitude pulsed through her. Apparently nearly dying does that to you. Puts things in perspective; makes you hyper aware of all the things often taken for granted.

This summer was ablaze with life and love, each new breath a fresh flame.

But here, on the train clanging its way back to Hogwarts, a chill starts to seep back in. She puts one foot in front of another, away from Ron, Hermione, and Harry Potter.

The compartments are filled with happy students reuniting with their friends after a long summer. There are also the eager first years, bright eyed and flushed with excitement. Her heart sinks as she makes her way down the corridor. None of the compartments seems any more inviting than the last.

The sight of Fred and George’s hair sends a shot of hope through her, but they’re fully immersed with other members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Everyone is laughing, probably at something the twins said. They might be telling them about Egypt and how they tried to lock Percy in a tomb. She could join in, maybe do that impression of Percy that had them in stitches. She hesitates in front of the compartment window, wondering if they will notice her.

Go away, Ginny.

Stomach clenching, she goes on.

With dread, she nears the end of the train. That’s when she sees a few of her fellow second-year girls in a compartment, a mix of Gryffindor and Hufflepuff that she recognizes from Charms. She searches her mind for their names: Demelza, Robin, and…maybe Lucy? The empty spot next to Demelza signals that there’s enough space for her.

All Ginny needs to do is open the door and ask. It’s easy, she tells herself, even as her heart starts to pound. It’s easy.

But she can’t move.

What if they ask about the things she doesn’t remember? The memories she longs to forget? The nightmares she can’t escape?

One of the girls throws her head back in silent laughter, the sound swallowed up by the train’s engine and metal sliding over metal.

Cold slips down Ginny’s back like a shard of ice, even though her skin feels unbearably hot. The overwhelming juxtaposition of hot and cold makes her sick.

She stumbles forward, unseeing, bashing her elbow against the food trolley as it pushes past. The glimpse of the trolley witch’s wide-eyed gaze that only makes her chest seize with more panic. Her breathing sounds labored and harsh to her ears, like the air can’t get through her tightened throat. She slides open the door to the loo and shoves herself inside, her numb fingers fumbling against the lock until it takes.

She leans over the small sink, feeling the blood pumping through her veins. She wants to scream, she wants to cry. Fighting back the urge, she bites her quivering lip, refusing to give in. Not now, not here, not again.

Focus, Ginny.

Her eyes cast about, trying to find an anchor, but when they land on her reflection, she knows it was a mistake as she grazes against an unwanted memory—hollow eyes staring back, bright blood on her hands that won’t come off. She slams her eyes shut. Flashes of icy fear and hot shame flare through her aching chest.

She focuses on the memory of Bill in Egypt, the way the sun glinted on his fang earring, the soft warmth in his eyes behind his familiar smile.

Focus, he said, leading her through a dark tomb. His steady hands guided hers through the motion of new spells. Ginny was never afraid of the dark, but that was before nightmares that had her waking to strangled screams, sounds of hisses and laughter ringing in her ears. Trust yourself; you’ll find the way out.

That sunlight in the darkness.

Her breath finally evens out. Her legs are shaky, and she slumps back on the closed toilet lid. She feels drained, weak.

The sweat on her brow begins to cool her overheated skin. How long has she been here?

It dawns on her where she is. A short laugh escapes her lips, echoing in the loo.

A flicker of anger stirs her blood. She has spent enough of her time alone in girls’ loos, a shell of the person she used to be.

Ginny spent a year under the thumb of the darkest wizard in the world, fading with each day.

Nothing else will ever compare.

She won’t let Tom take more from her. He has already taken too much. Steeling herself, she stands and opens the door.

Before she can head back toward Demelza’s compartment, the train jolts to a hard stop. The momentum topples her over. Her hands feel tender and raw against the train floor. Sounds of students yelping and thuds of luggage falling in disarray fill the air.

Without warning, the lanterns go out, throwing the entire train into darkness. Everything goes quiet.

That momentary strength inside Ginny flickers.

The inky blackness sends her heart racing. For all the sunlight she has tried to trap inside her, the fear creeps back in whenever the sun dips beyond the horizon. Stupid little girl. She hates proving Tom right, but she hasn’t been able to sleep alone since the Chamber. The only thing that has helped is sneaking into Ron’s room. He always opens the door without a word, his face drawn. He doesn’t tease her, even if she cries. Even if she screams in her sleep. Aside from Harry Potter, Ron is the closest one who knows the pipes, the freefall, the plunging darkness.

Ginny gags. It’s almost as if she’s choking on the rotting stench of Basilisk skin.

Ron.

Through the eerie silence, a compartment door opens and—is that Harry’s voice?

Ginny blindly hurries toward the voices, her screaming instincts guiding her. Her fingers pull a door open, but then someone slams right into her, and they let out two squeals of pain.

“Who’s that?”

“Who’s that?” she returns.

“Ginny?”

Relief makes Ginny weak. “Hermione?”

“What are you doing?”

“I was looking for Ron—”

“Come in and sit down—”

Ginny rushes into the pitch-black compartment, her knees buckling under her. She immediately sits, but the seat is surprisingly bony and warm.

“Not here! I’m here!” says Harry, his voice squeaky.

Her system overloads with embarrassment. Did she just sit on Harry bloody Potter?

She leaps up and trips over a pair of legs.

“Ouch!” says a boy she doesn’t recognize.

She finally falls into a miraculously empty seat when a wizard shouts, “Quiet!”

Her heart pounds in her throat. What is an older wizard doing here?

There is a soft click and light floods their surroundings, revealing a ragged, tired-looking wizard holding a handful of flames.

“Stay where you are,” he orders, as if Ginny came here only to leave. But before he can move, the door slowly slides open again, and she can’t help but think surely this compartment can’t fit yet another.

She smells something putrid before she sees anything. But as a darkly hooded figure appears at the door, the smell of decay intensifies. It draws a long, slow, and rattling breath, as if to suck in more than air from the environment.

An intense cold overtakes her. It penetrates deeper than her skin, straight to her core. It’s so cold, it radiates from within her. To her horror, she recognizes this feeling.

It’s the painful drawing of a soul from her body.

Ginny gasps. It sounds like a wet sob, but the air is so cold it hurts to breathe. That lack of air makes her body shake.

It’s like she’s back in the Chamber, helplessly sobbing and pleading. Tom leers down at her, turning more solid the colder she becomes. Panic surges through her, amplifying her tremors.

Destroy the diary, her mind screams, but her hand refuses to move no matter how she tries.

In the weak light, Harry falls from his compartment seat, and her heart seizes up in despair.

Her vision blurs. Everything is a wash of fluid dark watercolors. Harry, lying on the Chamber floor, unmoving, blood pooling around him.

“Never trust anything that can think for itself if you can't see where it keeps its brain,” Dad said, but what does where it keeps its brain have to do with anything? A person turned monster created that diary.

Is there anything she can trust?

A thick white fog swirls inside, dragging her down. Her body descends to the damp floor, the cold seeping into the back of her robes feels warmer than her own skin—

The intense cold starts to recede, and noises return to her muffled ears. The horrific thing has drifted away, the wizard standing guard at the door, his wand still raised and ready. The lanterns flicker back on, and the floor begins to shake underneath them once again.

Slowly, Ginny begins to register activity. Almost from afar, she watches as Ron slaps a ghastly pale Harry, trying to wake him. How is it that everyone else can move?

Colin Creevey, Mrs. Norris, Nearly Headless Nick, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Penelope Clearwater, Hermione Granger, and now—Harry Potter is dead.

He’s dead and it’s all my fault.

But then Harry stirs. His green eyes blink open, and thick tears blur her vision once more.

“What happened?” he asks, voice small.

Ginny makes a strangled noise, her freezing hand covering her mouth. He’s alive. She doesn’t know what happened to the hooded figure, but Harry Potter is alive, they aren’t in the Chamber, and Tom is gone.

These realizations don’t seem to be enough to stop the tremors still shaking through her. Her body doesn’t seem prepared to recover yet.

She huddles her knees closer as she chokes back a sob. She hears someone coming over and then feels someone’s—Hermione’s—arm around her. She needs to get a hold of herself; later, she will feel hot shame over falling apart in front of Ron’s friends, yet again proving she doesn’t belong. But right now she feels raw and hollowed out, and she can’t help but lean into the warm touch and comfort.

Eventually, she pulls herself together enough to force down some chocolate. It helps, but she can’t shake the lingering chill.

She glances through her lashes, guiltily, at Harry. He was the only one affected worse than her, and she wonders if he thought of anything or anyone, Tom’s laugh, Basilisk blood. She wants to ask, but he doesn’t look her way. He stares out the window as rain runs past the pane, a haunted look in his eyes.

Ginny bites her tongue and looks away.

#since feeling is first who pays any attention #Did I pick this moment because I wanted to highlight that missed moment when Ginny sat on Harry? Yes. Yes I did.#ginny weasley #harry potter #ron weasley #hermione granger #missed moments #canon compliant #prisoner of azkaban

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endusviolence · 2 months

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Rowling isn't denying holocaust. She just pointed out that burning of transgender health books is a lie as that form of cosmetic surgery didn't exist. But of course you knew that already, didn't you?

I was thinking I'd probably see one of you! You're wrong :) Let's review the history a bit, shall we?

In this case, what we're talking about is the Institut für Sexualwissenschaft, or in English, The Institute of Sexology. This Institute was founded and headed by a gay Jewish sexologist named Magnus Hirschfeld. It was founded in July of 1919 as the first sexology research clinic in the world, and was run as a private, non-profit clinic. Hirschfeld and the researchers who worked there would give out consultations, medical advice, and even treatments for free to their poorer clientele, as well as give thousands of lectures and build a unique library full of books on gender, sexuality, and eroticism. Of course, being a gay man, Hirschfeld focused a lot on the gay community and proving that homosexuality was natural and could not be "cured".

Hirschfeld was unique in his time because he believed that nobody's gender was either one or the other. Rather, he contended that everyone is a mixture of both male and female, with every individual having their own unique mix of traits.

This leads into the Institute's work with transgender patients. Hirschfeld was actually the one to coin the term "transsexual" in 1923, though this word didn't become popular phrasing until 30 years later when Harry Benjamin began expanding his research (I'll just be shortening it to trans for this brief overview.) For the Institute, their revolutionary work with gay men eventually began to attract other members of the LGBTA+, including of course trans people.

Contrary to what Anon says, sex reassignment surgery was first tested in 1912. It'd already being used on humans throughout Europe during the 1920's by the time a doctor at the Institute named Ludwig Levy-Lenz began performing it on patients in 1931. Hirschfeld was at first opposed, but he came around quickly because it lowered the rate of suicide among their trans patients. Not only was reassignment performed at the Institute, but both facial feminization and facial masculization surgery were also done.

The Institute employed some of these patients, gave them therapy to help with other issues, even gave some of the mentioned surgeries for free to this who could not afford it! They spoke out on their behalf to the public, even getting Berlin police to help them create "transvestite passes" to allow people to dress however they wanted without the threat of being arrested. They worked together to fight the law, including trying to strike down Paragraph 175, which made it illegal to be homosexual. The picture below is from their holiday party, Magnus Hirschfeld being the gentleman on the right with the fabulous mustache. Many of the other people in this photo are transgender.

[Image ID: A black and white photo of a group of people. Some are smiling at the camera, others have serious expressions. Either way, they all seem to be happy. On the right side, an older gentleman in glasses- Magnus Hirschfeld- is sitting. He has short hair and a bushy mustache. He is resting one hand on the shoulder of the person in front of him. His other hand is being held by a person to his left. Another person to his right is holding his shoulder.]

There was always push back against the Institute, especially from conservatives who saw all of this as a bad thing. But conservatism can't stop progress without destroying it. They weren't willing to go that far for a good while. It all ended in March of 1933, when a new Chancellor was elected. The Nazis did not like homosexuals for several reasons. Chief among them, we break the boundaries of "normal" society. Shortly after the election, on May 6th, the book burnings began. The Jewish, gay, and obviously liberal Magnus Hirschfeld and his library of boundary-breaking literature was one of the very first targets. Thankfully, Hirschfeld was spared by virtue of being in Paris at the time (he would die in 1935, before the Nazis were able to invade France). His library wasn't so lucky.

This famous picture of the book burnings was taken after the Institute of Sexology had been raided. That's their books. Literature on so much about sexuality, eroticism, and gender, yes including their new work on trans people. This is the trans community's Alexandria. We're incredibly lucky that enough of it survived for Harry Benjamin and everyone who came after him was able to build on the Institute's work.

[Image ID: A black and white photo of the May Nazi book burning of the Institute of Sexology's library. A soldier, back facing the camera, is throwing a stack of books into the fire. In the background of the right side, a crowd is watching.]

As the Holocaust went on, the homosexuals of Germany became a targeted group. This did include transgender people, no matter what you say. To deny this reality is Holocaust denial. JK Rowling and everyone else who tries to pretend like this isn't reality is participating in that evil. You're agreeing with the Nazis.

But of course, you knew that already, didn't you?

Edit: Added image IDs. I apologize to those using screen readers for forgetting them. Please reblog this version instead.

#transgender #trans history #transsexual #transphobia #Magnus Hirschfeld #holocaust #holocaust denial #book burning #j.k. rowling #jk rowling #just in case you missed what i mean by all this: go fuck yourself anon :)#trans people have always existed #and we will always exist #if you really wanna pick a fight with me over well-documented history then you better bring in some sources to back your shit #queer history #queer #lgbt+#lgbta+#lgbt #lgbt history #edit: i finally got around to those damn image IDs. i am so very sorry for totally forgetting that's my bimbo moment of the month #also real quick i thought about adding an image of the actual building but the only one i can find has a Nazi parade in front of it #it was taken the day of the book burning raid and honestly if i were to include it then i'd add it to the first few paragraphs #and i think the story's better told when you uphold the hope Magnus Hirschfeld and all the researchers he worked with had #also keeps being brought up: yes Hirschfeld was a eugenicist. it was a popular belief set that was only discredited after WW2 #Hirschfeld died in 1935. he literally didn't live long enough to see science turn against those beliefs and practices #considering how he changed his mind on transitions i like to think he would've changed his mind on eugenics too if he'd lived

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fidisart · 6 months

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Potential 02x06 spoiler? Slightly suggestive content too

I know this season has ✨issues✨ but I still had a great time.

Had to get the Gentlebeard wormies out of my system before getting back to work 😭 I'm so soft

(Ed gets the twink treatment, sorry I don't make the rules)

#my art #artists on tumblr #fidisart #ofmd fan art #our flag means death #ofmd season 2 #ofmd spoilers #calypso's birthday #Ofmd missing moment #ed ofmd #ofmd stede #stede bonnet #ed teach #gentlebeard #Spotify

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ruegarding · 6 months

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one thing abt thalia and percy's dynamic that is often overlooked is that percy was punished for the same things thalia was rewarded for. there's a prophecy abt one of the big three kids? percy is treated like a liar and thief and ppl refuse to talk to him. thalia? everyone respects her (including gods!) and assumes she'll do a great job saving the world. thalia is accepted immediately at camp and threatens the place percy spent two years proving he deserves. percy wants to go on a quest to save his friend? he's an attention seeker and glory stealer. thalia? well, she's the obvious choice. thalia comes up w a plan to win capture the flag that's basically "leave everything to me" and percy comes up with a plan that's basically "if you see a good opportunity, go for it," but percy is viewed as the control freak.

what i'm saying is percy had every reason to resent thalia and he didn't. he chose not to. and thalia had every reason to look down on percy and didn't.

even when they were fighting, i never saw it as a power struggle. they were being pit against each other, and instead of doing what everyone expected them to (kronos was fully expecting thalia to kill percy), they chose to love and respect each other. because they're not their parents. they're just two kids who started cracking under the pressure but refused to break.

#i think the most telling moment of their dynamic is when thalia is seduced by the power kronos offers her #and rather than viewing her as a threat and fighting her #percy talks her down. bc he knows her. bc he respects her. bc he loves her.#and she chooses him(them) over kronos and the power #anyway i miss thalia so much she should've been in every story all the time #thalia grace #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo hoo toa #big three kids #percy #thalia #min talks pjo

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theblob1958 · 2 years

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this is literally the only tweet that ever matters

#woah my annual missing patrick swayze moment is hitting right now #m.txt

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tennant-davids · 11 months

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SUCCESSION 2018 - 2023

Is that why you're paying a billion dollars for a gay little website?

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sunglassesmish · 6 days

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buck being cute talking about tommy

#i purposefully didn’t include moment where he’s talking *to* tommy #but hopefully i didn’t miss anything outside of that. (cute moments. not stuff like 'both like watching half naked men pummel each other')#my gifs #911 #911 spoilers #evan buckley #bucktommy

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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 4 months

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Lap Pillow

[First] Prev <–-> Next

#poorly drawn mdzs #mdzs #wei wuxian #lan wangji #Confessions of a missed opportunity: I almost had LWJ in purple for this comic.#WWX gives him one of his layers to wear and it's never specified what colour it is.#We all love the red inner robe from CQL (And other illustrations) but sit with me for a moment. Think about LWJ in Jiang Purple.#Right now. Close your eyes and give it 5-10 seconds of rotation in your brain.#Welcome back. It's beautiful isn't it. As I write these notes I am upset that I backed out of going through with it.#I think I will simply have to draw it another time. If we get gusu lan white wwx we *need* yunmeng jiang purple lwj!#Anyways; this comic is the pinnacle of teen wangji's bursting-at-the-seams-emotionality that I love him for.#For my sanity I need that teen losing his mind and following bird rules (get fluffy - get blushy - keep beeping)#He is a loser nerd with a begrudging crush on a boy that he doesn't know how to be normal about.#LWJ seems like your typical 'cool guy love interest' until you realize that he's actually kind of soggy and pathetic.#My favourite lan wangji trait is that he's funny as all hell. I feel like wwx a bit because I had a character epiphany when I realized this

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majunju · 7 months

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bffls reunite in fontaine

#genshin impact #my art #insert image of the ant carrying the bindle here #i drew this in a moment of weakness i didnt expect 2 miss them saur much

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1941-crowley-slut · 8 months

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I hope everyone realizes that aside from Crowley not being in heaven, Aziraphale will also not have anything else he likes.

There are no books in heaven. There's no tea or hot chocolate, no music, no crêpes or sushi. So not only does he lose the love of his life and has to operate without him, but he also isn't allowed any of his comfort things, all while I'm sure the angels are hostile against him (even if they pretend otherwise).

Aziraphale has nothing.

#bro is not gonna last #he went to jail for crepes guys he's gonna snap very soon #and did you see the annoyance on his face when gabriel knocked on his door and interrupted his music #he loves earthly stuff too much and he doesn't even realize it yet #also i'm sure when he comes back there'll be a soft heartfelt moment between him and crowley #where crowley's like “You came back” and aziraphale smiles softly and says “Missed the sushi” as they make heart eyes #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #aziracrow #gomens2 #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable husbands #good omens 2

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narukoibito · 1 year

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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

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

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