#hinny ficlet

[di-daynamic]

The first time Harry Potter broke Ginny’s heart, she was six-years-old.

It had been during his first visit to their manor house, fondly christened The Burrow due to its quaint architecture and its inhabitants.

Ron – her most irritating brother, but sadly the one closest to her age – had suggested that he and his new best friend go off to the woods to look for dragons to fight. Ginny the older would have scoffed and let them go, but Ginny at that age begged wildly to be included.

“Don’t make eye contact,” she’d heard Ron warn Harry. “Acknowledgement just encourages her.”

Undaunted, she’d followed them across the yard, watching them purposefully walking with their heads together. “Ron!” She yelled. “Ron! Ron! Ron! Ronald!” It went from yelling to full on shrieking.

She’d seen her brother’s shoulders tighten at the call of his full name, and had smiled, knowing she was close.

Unfortunately, it seemed that having met him, he could focus more on Harry than on her whining. Unacceptable. “Ro--!” She paused, changing tracks. “Harry!” She’d called, making her voice as pathetic as possible.

He'd turned, because he was a decent person. Also probably because he wasn’t used to being called but no matter. “No!” Ron had moaned.

“Harry!” She’d said happily, skipping forward. “Can’t you let me be a knight too? I like playing!”

“So do I,” Ron had snapped. “Without you.”

She let her face screw up, sniffing loudly. “Don’t cry,” Harry had said hurriedly. He hated hurting or disappointing people, Ginny had learned quickly enough.

“She’s faking.” Ron had been unimpressed.

“Whatever – just don’t cry.”

“I won’t if you let me go with you,” Ginny had pounced on that quickly.

“No way!” Ron screamed indignantly. But Harry hadn’t said anything, looking uncertain, and Ginny doubled down on that.

“Please?” She whispered.

“Alright, just this once,” Harry had capitulated.

Ginny had screamed, ignoring Ron’s groan of “I told you not to look her in the eye” in favour of dancing around in joy. “Thank you! Thank you! You’re the best! Unlike you,” she’d sniffed at her brother.

“I take pride in being the worst,” Ron had said, then sighed. “Come on.”

That had also been her first experience with the fact that Ron and Harry would do basically anything for each other.

By the time she’d tripped for the third time and hadn’t stopped going on about how it was sunnier elsewhere and how their games were all unoriginal and Mum would like this flower and they should bring dolls out next time and did they think fish would be served for dinner, both boys had been absolutely fed up with her.

“I told you,” Ron had hissed at Harry. “We’re never letting her play with us again.”

Harry had nodded. Ginny had huffed, putting her hands on her hips the way she’d seen Mum do. “Let’s go and play by ourselves, Harry,” she’d said brightly. “I have dolls and tea cups and trains.” Of course, she hadn’t known then no boy alive would like to play with dolls and tea cups.

Harry’s eyes had gone wide. “Er—” He’d looked panicked at the idea of refusing her, but clearly dreaded the idea of playing with her even more. “I can’t.”

“Why?!”

“I’m busy,” he’d said lamely. “Sorry.”

Ginny had turned on her brother, outraged. “You made him say that!”

“No I didn’t,” Ron had said, very satisfied with himself. “You’re just a pest.”

“I hate you,” she’d said, trembling. “I hate you both! Especially you, Harry!”

Then she’d turned and run back up to the house, crying for real this time to her mother about how Ron’s new friend had been just as bad as him and she’d thought he would be nice.

Years later, she would be told that Ron had turned to his friend then and said to him, “She said she hates you! You’re really part of the family now.”

And Harry, whose sorry excuse for a family had made it clear the only part of him they cared for was his estate, had blinked and smiled widely, feeling home for the first time in his life.

This would soften Ginny towards that episode. After all, he’d been a young boy – no one could blame him for not wanting to play with a girl.

The heartbreaks after that, though? They were all absolutely his fault.

-- Part of the prologue of one of my three Hinny regency AUs (five if you count the royalty ones!) Anyone know which book's premise and prologue it's taken from. Because I think the dynamic and premise, if not the entirety of the characters or the book, is very Hinny coded. Hint: it's not Bridgerton.

[ellorypurebloodculture]

May I request a Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley ficlet?

Master Harry Potter's chest burns as he chases Miss Ginny Weasley through the trees, dodging over protruding roots and ducking under leafy boughs in the process; she's the last person he has to catch to win the game, but she's as elusive as a Thestral to those who have never witnessed a death.

"Catch me if you can!" Ginny challenges over her shoulder, her deep red braid whipping through the air with how fast she runs, the sunlight seeping through the leaves to kiss her freckles.

He almost trips over his feet as he realizes that he's jealous of the sunlight.

Ginny is a rarity among pureblood witches, never afraid to try new things, willing to become dirty and disheveled for fun's sake without caring what anyone thinks, always willing to laugh loudly and smile brightly and--Merlin, Harry wants her.

Knowing she'll despise him if he treats her like she's fragile, Harry tackles her into the leaf litter and gasps against the arch of her neck, heart pounding, "Caught you."

[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.”

[brightlybound]

Just a little hinny ficlet. You know, if you want to be depressed.

Read below or click the link above!

~*~ (take me back to) Eden ~*~

It was golden in Eden. Sunshine dancing along his skin, her skin, giving and giving; here, take this, you’ll need it for later. Warmth, unimaginable warmth, bubbling in his stomach, catching in his throat, bursting from his mouth as unfiltered laughter, a happiness he'd never felt in his entire life. 

Ginny brightened everything she touched, colored it vividly, work of art and artist all rolled into one. Her fingertips drew into his flesh, light circles, little crescent, abstract strokes that took his breath away, made him transcend time and space, eternal bliss with the lightest graze. He wondered what he looked like, turned towards her, flower to the sun: a new man, a different man, surely, someone he never knew he could be.

Under her instruction, whispering against the shell of his ear, he, too, became master of a certain craft, could make roses blossom in her cheeks, the most radiant red blooming down her neck, across her chest, especially when his fingers delved between the petal-softness between her legs. God, god, how he loved to feel her come apart in his hands, against him, beneath him, above him, however she wanted it. 

He felt sick with the thought that he may never again hold her, caress her, mark her tight curves with his mouth. There was hope, of course, but never guarantee. He'd been lucky there, in Eden, to have such moments of blissful oblivion. With her, only her. Ginny.

A crack of thunder shook his bed frame, and Harry’s eyes shot open to take in the blank canvas of the frigid little tent. In the semi-darkness, the rain made the fabric shudder like crashing waves, stealing him away from the memory of pure ecstasy and suffocating him in gloom.

[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.

[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.

[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'.

[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.

[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.”

—

[unhinged-romione]

Hullo there! I've had really bad Romione brainrot for the past six years and as a result, I present to you a bunch of fics!

I mainly write Romione missing moments, but I also have a lotta AUs (Muggle and otherwise), steamy post-war one-shots, and a gen ficlet featuring the incomparable ✨Luna Lovegood ✨

And without further ado... *sweeping hand motions*

Series'

Mine (T): 6-chap 6th year AU where Romione got together and Hinny takes things to the next level. Hermione and Ginny are kinda hoe-y in this and I love it 🤪 WIP - but Romione part is COMPLETE

"What If" Romione Kisses (T): anthology of seven one-shots, one for each year, answering the question, “What if Ron and Hermione had kissed earlier?” COMPLETE

Let's Go (T but prolly will change to M): Muggle AU of Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley meeting one magical night at a pub during their final year of uni. WIP

One-Shots

Ocean Eyes (G/T): Hermione demands that Ron explain the meaning behind his Christmas gift in OotP.

moving into me (T): Yule Ball Romione starring transmasculine Ron 🙂🏳️‍⚧️

Before Daybreak (T): flash fic of Romione in a secret relationship during DH

Virgo's Groove (T): the festivities in Shell Cottage when Lupin announces Teddy's birth get a bit out of hand. Also, Ron and Hermione talk about babies…and what it takes to make babies.

Stand Still (G/T): ever wonder what was going through Hermione's mind when she asked Ron to Slughorn's Party? I did a lil take on it!

Say Yes To Heaven (G/T): Romione's dance during Bill and Fleur's wedding.

Hermione Granger & The Baronet's Son (G): A lil Bridgerton-inspired Regency AU I wrote for the 2024 @romione-masquerade!

Shameless Smut

All post war. All rated E (obvi).

Dive: Hermione finds a particular book that Ron hoped she would never know about. But what happens next is more than he could have ever bargained for.

Moment: Romione's first time.

lips slightly parted: a collection of probably mostly unrelated horny Romione drabbles and flash fics. Title is a reference to the brief moment in canon when Hermione was stuck in her fight-or-fuck response when Ron came back in DH.

Gen Fics

What in God's name is the Umgubular Slashkilter? (G): missing Hogsmeade 5th year moment post Harry's interview with Rita Skeeter.

[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) - Draco/Goyle

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) - Harry/Teddy

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) - Ron/Harry

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) - Drarry + Teddy

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!

[hssrarepairs]

🎄 HSS Rare Pairs 2024: Rules 🎄

Find more info in our FAQ!

🎁 Schedule 🎁

Sign-ups: Aug 13-Sep 3 Gift Submissions Due: Nov 15 Gift Giving: Dec 1-Dec 25 Creator Reveals: Dec 30

🎁 General 🎁

This exchange is open to anyone aged 18+ (by the time sign-ups open) with an AO3 account! 

We recommend following us on Tumblr (@hssrarepairs) or joining our Discord, although it is not required.

As this is a gift exchange, you will make a gift for someone and receive at least 2 gifts in return (possibly more!).

This exchange is focused on HP rare pairs. That means any HP ship that is not a common ship. The excluded common ships: Dramione, Drarry, Harmony, Harrymort/Tomarry, Hinny, Jegulus, Jily, Romione, Snamione, Snarry, and Wolfstar. 

Polyships of any kind are welcome! Trans, non-binary, and GNC characters are welcome! As are non-human characters and other character variations. 

The main ship should be a HP rare pair involving established characters from canon. Common ships or OCs may appear in the background of works as long as they are not the main focus.

We highly encourage being open to trying new ships for this exchange. It will make matching easier, and you never know what amazing ships you may discover!

This exchange is anonymous! Please do not share details about your works outside a limited number of alpha/beta/cheer/sensitivity readers until after Creator Reveals on Dec 30.

We follow the Three Laws of Fandom: SALS, DLDR, and YKINMKATO. No ship-bashing, hate speech, or kink shaming will be tolerated. We are open to all types of ships, genres, and content (including dark and/or triggering content) as long as it is tagged accordingly.

🎁 Sign-Ups & Matching 🎁

Sign-ups are open Aug 13-Sep 3 through our Sign-up Form.

This form is long and thorough. Please make sure you fill out the entire form according to the instructions. There will be sections for Participant Information, Character and Ship Preferences, Receiving Preferences, Gifting Preferences, and Bonus Questions (optional).

The mods will match you with other participants based on your sign-up form. The more details you include in your form, the better your matches will be!

You will be able to edit your form until the end of sign-ups. Check your email for the editing link.

Matches will be sent out via email within 1 week of sign-ups closing. You will need to confirm your matches within 1 week of receiving our email. Please check your emails regularly!

If you have any questions/concerns about your match(es), please contact the mods ASAP.

🎁 Gift Submissions 🎁

Gifts are due Nov 15! Upload gifts to the AO3 Collection then complete the Submission Form, one for each gift submitted.

You will have approximately 2 months to work on gifts starting when matches are sent out.

Gifts must be new, complete, standalone creations made for the sole purpose of gifting to your recipient as part of HSS Rare Pairs. It cannot be part of a series or a sequel/prequel to an existing work.

AI-generated works are not allowed.

All creations must be in English, include an English translation, or link to an English translation.

All HP rare pair-themed gifts are accepted! That includes: fics, ficlets, drabbles, craft gifts, art works, gif sets, story banners, moodboards, fanvids, podfics, podfic cover art, meta, poems, recipes, playlists, translations, etc. — basically, any type of fanwork that can be uploaded to AO3! See the FAQ for more gift examples.

Although only one gift is required, if at all possible, please create more than one gift (please we are begging you 🙏).

When creating your gift(s), please make sure to follow your recipient’s squicks/DNWs. If the mods find that your gift does not follow your recipient’s DNWs, you will be asked to edit/resubmit your gift.

All gifts will be proofread and tag-checked by the mods before being accepted into the AO3 collection. We will contact you via email about any revisions or additional requirements. Please check your emails regularly!

🎁 Gift Guidelines by Type 🎁

For written gifts or gifts based on written works, the minimum is 200 words. There is no maximum. See the FAQ for more info.

For artwork and crafts, you may include a watermark/signature, although gifts will still be “Anonymous” when revealed.

For podfics and audioworks, you may state your name in the recording, although gifts will still be marked “Anonymous” when revealed.

For derivative works (podfic, translation, remix, etc.), you must have permission from the original creator to make a transformative work, either a blanket statement, personalized note, or permission from the sign-up form. Please link back to the original work via the “Inspired By” function on AO3.

🎁 Anon, Extensions, & Dropping 🎁

If you wish to keep your gift anonymous after the end of the exchange, please let us know on the submission form. The mods will be in touch with further details.

If you need an extension, shoot us an email and we will give you a 2 week extension, no questions asked.

If you need to drop from the exchange, email us ASAP so we can contact a pinch-hitter.

🎁 Gift Delivery & Creator Reveals 🎁

Gifts will be delivered Dec 1-Dec 25 by Santa and his helpers (aka the very excited mods 🎅)! We will deliver gifts on AO3, Tumblr, and Discord.

Creator Reveals will be on Dec 30. Until then, please refrain from discussing giftees, sharing snippets, or giving away details about your creation. We want gifts to remain a secret, hence the Secret Santa part.

After reveals, you are free to share, post, and squeal about your creation as much as you want.

Please remember to comment on your gifts! They may be small and they may not be exactly what you want, but they were made with love and made especially for YOU. We want all gifters to feel appreciated for their hard work!

🎁 Contact 🎁

If you have any questions, concerns, or just want to chat, don’t be afraid to reach out to us! We can’t wait to see all your wonderful rare pair creations 🍐!!

Email: hssrarepairs@gmail.com

Tumblr: @hssrarepairs

Discord: HP Rare Pairs

[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.

[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.

[danpuff-ao3]

Harry/Severus. Rated: E. Words: 1,939. Fruit smut. Cheating. Background Hinny. Secret relationship. Language of Flowers. Symbolism. Extra ficlet for the love, your enemy series.

@hp-flowers Spring 2022 prompt: plum blossoms ("perserverance, hope, purity") + Spring 2023 prompt: pansy ("you occupy my thoughts.")

@hp-fruit-fest 2023 prompt plum (bonus prompts: peach + cherry)

Also: my birthday gift to myself! What better gift than Snarry fruit smut? 🥳

There is no room for beauty here. Still, Severus covets. 

Read on AO3

[hinnyfied]

Fic Stats Tag

Rules: Give us links to your fics with the most hits, second most kudos, third most bookmarks, fourth most comments, fifth most words, and fic with the least amount of words.

**I'm switching up the order a bit, but leaving the original rules up top because with the rules as they're set, the same fic is the answer for four of them and that's boring lol!!**

Thanks for the tag @lanaturnergetup, @ashesandhackles, and @practicecourts!

Most hits: Happy Little Accidents - This fic is about Harry and Ginny finding out that James is on the way! It's one of the first fics that I ever wrote, so there are some writing and characterisation choices I would make differently if I wrote it today, but I still have a lot of affection for it!

Second most bookmarks: Locked Away - Ginny finding out about the cupboard under the stairs. It makes me so happy that people want to revisit this one because it's one of my personal favorites!

Third most kudos: Saying Goodbye - This is a short, two-chapter fic from the morning of Fred's funeral featuring a Ginny POV and a Molly POV.

Fourth most comments: Pass the Bottle - Ginny and Harry sneaking away during Percy and Audrey's rehearsal dinner. It's short with lots of bants and Hinny fluff involved.

Fifth most words: Happy Little Accidents again!

Least amount of words: Fireside - I'm just going by the AO3 wordcount and not looking at Tumblr microfics, individual chapters etc. This 690 word ficlet is when Ginny "meets" Harry's parents during those sunlit HBP days. <3

Tagging @merlins-sequined-hotpants & @incalculablepower