#hinny post-war

[norakelly]

Harry potter never grasped what he truly missed, until he had his own family.

The adorable giggles of his daughter as she tip toes across the wooden floor to jump in her parent's bed. Ginny in her towel wrapped hair, who reads Teddy’s letter from Hogwarts out loud, making Harry miss his godson more. The Loud and enthusiastic laugh of James' in the morning table as he tries to convince them to get a pet dragon. (A big fan of Charlie he was:)) Quiet and rare remarks of Al. Mostly over his favorite books, and maybe even about the Daily Prophet, (A habit he started very recently, which was not a shock to the family although he was five) where he’d read his mother’s name out loud whenever it appeared. Harry couldn’t quite yet comprehend how he, who woke up to the war being his concern, is now being awakened by tiny little hands who simply wants a breakfast. He beams proudly at them, and with a sense of gratitude for making those million thoughts that used to invade his mind fade away.

He was finally, home.

[fanfic-lover-girl]

HP epilogue's socio-politics in a nutshell

The Weasleys are the new Blacks.

[carolinelayne]

Can I Hug You?

Summary: Harry and Ginny reunite in the Great Hall after the Battle of Hogwarts. Mini One-Shot.

…

The Great Hall was crowded, but all Harry could see was Ginny standing before him. She looked up to him, her light brown eyes filled with tears.

“I thought I’d never see you again.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but found he couldn’t. There was too much he wanted to say to her, so much he wanted to express… but no words came out.

She moved towards him gingerly, as if not believing he was truly there. She spoke in a soft whisper.

“Oh Harry... I thought you were dead.”

Every pair of eyes in the Great Hall were on him and he didn’t notice… it was like that moment where they kissed for the first time in the Gryffindor common room, a lifetime ago. The restless hall faded; the entire world went with it. All he could see was her... There was nobody else. There was never anybody else.

He needed her touch, to know that she was real, to know that she wasn’t going to be ripped away from him. He finally found the words he wanted to say.

���Gin… can I hug you?”

Ginny blinked, and gave him the ghost of a small smile.

“You don’t have to ask Harry. I’m always going to say yes.”

He felt a blush creep to his face, but it was comfortable and warm. It reminded him that he was still very much alive.

And so he pulled her into his arms. Harry held onto her so tightly, burying his head into her hair that still smelled so sweet. He never wanted to let her go. This embrace was the safest he could ever remember feeling.

He never wanted this moment to end, never wanted her to be away from him again, and yet he heard himself saying...

“You can always change your mind Gin.”

Ginny pulled away just enough to gaze up at him. Her eyes were filled with tears, and yet her look was burning. They both very well knew what he was talking about.

“It’s a lot,” he started. “I’m a lot. He’s gone, but it’ll always be… I’ll always be–”

Ginny put her hand gently over his mouth, and Harry felt the hairs raise on the back of his neck.

“I’m never changing my mind. Not ever.”

With this, Harry thought inexplicably of the moments before he thought his life was going to end, how his very last thoughts were of kissing the girl in front of him. Harry wanted so many things now that he had the rest of his life to live… and they could all be consolidated down to one person. Ginny.

“Me neither.” And without worrying about the fact that fifty people were watching, Harry kissed her. That's how it always was.

[fl0-333]

The Last Thought - Flo_333 - Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling [Archive of Our Own]

“Of course, I wouldn’t spend the past year needlessly pining after you or not shutting up about you to Ron but never actually doing anything about it.”

“No that would be-” She began to say but he cut her off “Insane really.” His voice was low and soft, his eyes still burying into hers and she couldn’t look away. 

“Yeah” the word coming out no more than a whisper. Their eyes met and she felt like she might combust. 

“And I’m definitely not thinking of kissing you right now.” 

“No?” The word came out as a question. 

His face was so close to hers, their noses almost grazing. 

“I wouldn’t dare.” 

Read the rest on AO3

Word count: 2905

Rating: Teen

Warnings: one use of a mild swear word.

[blinkngone]

light years.

Silence resides like an unwelcome guest in the Burrow. On the days he doesn’t go to the Ministry, Harry mostly sits at the table in the Burrow’s kitchen, picking the skin on his lips. New post-war commodity at the Burrow: dirty dishes populating the a sink that has always been spic and span. A glass of water on the table that he never drinks. Harry Potter, saviour of the Wizarding World, rotting in the kitchen of a crooked, sun-bathed house. Out of the corner of his eyes, past the kitchen window, there is a blur of red and ivory. Sometimes he watches this blur flit back and forth between the frame of the window, sometimes he puts his head on the table, closes his eyes. Wills himself to remember her skin on his, the smell of her on his jaws. She feels a lifetime away. Centuries pass before he lifts his head back up again. The slant of the sun lengthens on the table. Near the edge, G.W is inscribed on the wood, below it, the initials of her brothers. These words belong to another time, when pain came from breaking elbows in the yard, gnome biting their toes, bee stings from the hives sticking to the trees. These days, pain comes from things they shouldn’t have even experienced.

“Your childhood was robbed from you,” Kingsley told Harry one time when they were repairing the greenhouses at Hogwarts. Amid the havoc of the war, green plants shot up regardless.

So much more than just his childhood was robbed from him, Harry wanted to tell the Minister. His life was almost snatched from him. His future, his people, all the love he could’ve had. He didn’t say anything, just shrugged. After, as he stood near the lake smoking a cigarette, squirrels scampered away from him. Like they knew this life he had, was more tinted with death than any eighteen year old life should be.

/

Now, the sounds from outside populate the silence of the Burrow. With Ron and Hermione in Australia, Mrs. Weasley at the Shell Cottage, and the others at the Ministry, the house seems to be an extension of the aching loneliness he feels. Lately, he is consumed by the need to do something, anything except attend hearings at the Ministry and helping at Hogwarts. There is a constant restlessness between his ribs. In bed sometimes, he cannot feel his body anymore, feels like he is becoming more and more unmoored from this plane of existence. In the bathroom that mostly smells of shampoo that Mrs. Weasley makes from the flowers from the Burrow’s orchard, he looks at the reflection in the cracked mirror above the sink, and is unable to locate himself.

Ginny, he observes, embodies his restlessness. She is wild that summer, Ginny. He sees it. She prowls around the Burrow at night, lithe and haunting. A ghost. In daylight, she is as fleeting as an afterthought. She is gone before he’s up, and thinks no one notices how she is beginning to disappear, parts of her falling off and getting lost. Untended grief settling in those empty spaces. Harry becomes increasingly concerned, but no one has taught him how to prevent another person from disappearing into darkness. Framed in the window of his room in the attic, he too, looks ghastly. If it weren’t for the throb of pain in his open wounds, the sting of summer on his red burns, he wouldn’t be able to tell if he were human, Harry thinks.

He remembers their days at Hogwarts, how she’d demand he sit against the trees and watch her fly. Eyes glinting, and a wicked grin on her face, she’d deftly braid her hair into a plait. Broom between her legs, she’d say, “Top this, Potter.”

And he watched, because how could he not. After everything he’d seen in his sixteen years of life, she was a miracle. Later, he’d unbraid her hair, lips on the column of her neck, tasting the wind on her skin.

These days, the only forms of interaction between them are: their dirty cups stacked on top of each other, strands of hair she sometimes leaves in the bathroom sink, her clothes and his tangled in the laundry hamper.

/

It happens on an ordinary afternoon. He stops a few feet away from the Burrow, near the chicken coup to smoke a cigarette. Today, he met Kingsley at the Ministry. He offered Harry a spot in the Auror Department.

They sat opposite each other at the table in the Minister of Magic’s office. He told the Minister, “I have to think about it.”

“Yes, Harry. Take your time. Maybe wait till Ron and Hermione are back.”

“Ron and Hermione, yeah,” he said. It dawned on him that he’d never taken an important decision without them by his side. He was so wholly inadequate without the two of them.

The birds chirp in the orchard now, the breeze heavy with humidity. Dragonflies buzz over his head. Hermione once told him, when she was little, she’d look out the window of her bedroom in the hopes of seeing dragonflies.

“Dragonflies mean heavy rain!” her Mum used to tell her. In his last letter, Ron wrote Mrs. Granger’s memory was proving difficult to be restored. She was still unable to remember Hermione.

It sure feels like heavy rain today. He blows the smoke out, slowly. Taps his finger against the cigarette and watches the column of ash fall away.

“What’s that?”

He turns around to see Ginny, broom against her hip, standing where the orchard gives away to tall and wide grass blades. Her voice sounds different, rusty from the lack of use.

“Cigarette,” he tells her.

“What?”

“Muggle shit.”

She just lifts her eyebrows, her mouth perched on the brink of laughter. Her hair is wild, sweat shining on her face. For a few seconds they look at each other. He is afraid to look away.

“Want to try?” he asks her.

She shrugs and steps forward. He covers the distance between them in three long strides.

/

The floating foliage of the leaves makes shadow patterns on their bodies. The sunlight feels old, slightly muted. She he likes the way the yellow light catches the tiny hairs on his arms, bringing out the dark butterscotch of his emerald pupils, makes his face look unbelievably beautiful. They pass a cigarette back and forth, the both of them lying on a patch of asymmetrical sunlight, the dew from the grass wetting the back of their thin shirts. He blows the smoke from the corner of his mouth, so that the left side of his face disappears momentarily in this white smoke, then reappears in the very next instant. She can smell the scent of her own hair, like wildflowers, and wishes he smells it, too, over the smell of his cigarette.

He doesn't speak much, nor does she. But his lingering looks burn into her skin, make her feel more than a wound that won’t scab, not even at the edges. Yesterday she took him to the pond, and they sat near the edge, with their feet in the water. Green weeds curled around their calves. Their shoulders were touching.

He said, “I thought about you, a lot. You know, when I was away.”

She blinked at him and wondered if it was too early to tell him about hurting in his dorm, seeing his face every time they shot a Cruciatus at her, willing to die than divulge any information that might be used against him.

“Oh.” She touched her chest with her palm. She looked out at the pond, listened to the croaking of the frogs on the green pads of leaves bigger than the sun in the sky. She wanted to give him her heart, knew he’d cradle it in his rough palms delicately, with the kind of tenderness that touches you once in twelve million light years.

“I stole your jumper,” she told him. “Wore it to bed.” Every night.

She turned to look at him the same moment he looked away. She caught the shy upturn of his smile sideways, for a fleeting moment, and revelled in it for the entire night.

She turns to him now, props herself on her elbows. He looks up at her. There are a million things she wants to tell him. The most important of which, perhaps, is that she loves him. Wants them to heal together.

“Harry.”

He stubs his cigarette in one quick motion. The contours of his lips, the wetness of his tongue are painfully familiar. Beautifully so.

[honeydukesheroine]

Holy Ground 🍃🎓🌤️

Another installment of #SeveralSunlitDaylights and for @corneliaavenue-ao3!

“Remember the first time we came here?” Ginny asked, swaying on the spot, making the long black graduation robes swirl on the ground around her. She tilted her head lazily to the side, reminiscing up at the brilliantly blue sky. Harry watched the movement of her hair as it cascaded down to the small of her back, almost golden in the light. 

She turned to look at him, hand still clutching George’s flask to her shoulder, impatient for him to answer. 

“Yeah,” Harry said. “I was so nervous.” He looked around the sturdy wooden bench, where he now sat watching her. Appreciating the rocky hidden path, the wild overgrown leaves and scattering of purple flowers that framed the view of the lake. 

“I could tell,” she snickered, crinkling her nose the way she always did when teasing him. 

Harry smiled up at her, “You were worse than me.” She rolled her eyes and opened her mouth to retort, but caught her foot on a root that sent her stumbling backwards. He reflexively reached for her hand to steady her, pulling her close. Through it all, she’d managed to save the contents of the flask.

“Dance with me,” she demanded, but her voice was soft, breath smelled like Firewhiskey. 

“You know I don’t dance.”

She giggled gently, “Not according to the Ministry Newsletter, Christmas Edition of 1998.”  She leaned her whole body weight into his chest, resting her head on his shoulder. His arms wrapped snuggly around her waist, breathing her in, he allowed himself to instinctively match her rhythm. “I came here a lot this year… and last year,” she said after a while.

He’d known that it had all been on her mind that day, saying goodbye. Even through her outward insistence that she “could leave and give two fucks if I ever came back.” He knew it wasn’t that simple. That’s why he’d helped her knick George’s flask.

“I know.” 

They continued to sway, the warmth of the sun surrounding them. This had been their spot. 

But now it was one of their spots, he reminded her. Along with the little stone bridge not far from the Burrow, that greasy pub she loved so much in Muggle London, that secret beach along the coast they could only reach by broom. 

But really, he knew that his spot was wherever she was. 

[di-daynamic]

@hinnymicrofic

September Prompts Day 21: Murderous

Harry was the Man Who Conquered. The Head Auror.

And he had never faced a situation quite so tense.

Ginny fixed him with a murderous gaze before slowly moving her eyes to her brother. “Which of you was it,” she said in a low, dangerous voice that typically preceded hexes, most likely the Bat-Bogey variety. “I want the truth. Now.”

Harry was used to making decisions on the fly, but this was ridiculous.

“Answer the question, boys,” Hermione said disapprovingly, perching on the couch, her book closed for once.

Harry made an executive decision.

“It was Ron,” he threw his best mate under the bus with no small amount of remorse.

“Harry!” Ron cried out in betrayal as both women honed in on him with murderous gazes and flared nostrils akin to bloodthirsty hellhounds (he ought to know; he had a case related to them not two months ago).

“Did you do it, Ron?” Ginny asked, now very calmly. Somehow, this was worse than the angry tone. Hermione was fingering her wand as she stood up, also very calmly.

Harry loved his girlfriend and best friend. He really, really did.

He was just also extremely scared of them, as any sane person would be.

“I cannot believe this,” Hermione intoned lowly. “From you of all people. I would’ve expected this kind of impulsivity and short-sightedness from Harry—”

“Hey,” Harry cut in broodingly, because doing suicidal reckless things was kind of in his nature, but shut up when Ginny raised an eyebrow.

“But not from you,” Hermione shook her head sadly, ignoring Harry completely, which he was grateful for, but also a little offended by. “How could you?”

“Hermione, c’mon, I didn’t mean to do it!” Ron cried out desperately, confirming his guilt and sealing his fate.

Then he proved just how little Harry’s friendship meant to him.

“Harry was the one who brought it up, anyway.”

“Ron,” Harry said hoarsely, disbelievingly, as the girls’ murderous looks were trained once again on him.

“You started it, mate,” Ron shook his head sadly too, proving he spent far too much time with Hermione.

“Harry,” Ginny said slowly. “Did you bring up the party to Mum?” Hermione stared at him incredulously.

Harry saw his life flash before his eyes.

He could lie to the press, the whole world, his coworkers, the Weasleys, even Ron and Hermione and Teddy, but he couldn’t lie to Ginny.

He took a deep breath. Steeled himself.

“Yes. I did.”

“How could you?” Ginny whispered. Harry could swear there were tears in her eyes, but Ginny Weasley never cried. “Do you realize what this means for us, Harry? What the next three months of our life are going to be like?”

“I know,” Harry nodded. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

Hermione sighed. “Of course you didn’t,” she murmured.

Ron made an indignant noise. “Why is it when Harry’s to blame you two go all soft and when I am you look murderous?” He complained.

The girls threw scathing looks at him. “We haven’t forgotten that you’re the one who dealt the final blow, brother,” Ginny said threateningly.

Ron gulped and shut up, because he had a sense of self-preservation.

“I’m sorry,” Harry repeated, because despite how ridiculous it sounded, he could display some self-preservation too. Occasionally.

“I know you are,” Ginny said soothingly, murderous expression disappearing, as she hugged him and kissed his cheek. Hermione sighed and sheathed her wand.

“I hope you know we’re leaving all the work to you,” Hermione informed them.

Harry and Ron blanched, exchanging looks.

“We know nothing about party planning,” Ron said flatly.

“Well, you should’ve thought of that before promising Mum our help,” Ginny smiled, showing all her teeth. “Unless you’d like to also be the one to tell her we can’t.”

Harry would, quite frankly, rather face Voldemort again.

Ever since the extended Weasley family (which consisted of most of the Order and the DA along with the actual blood family) had started marrying and having children, getting together on days such as Christmas and birthdays had become nigh impossible.

Mr. Weasley had discovered the American holiday of Thanksgiving, and his wife had decided that was the one day every single person of their acquaintance would sequester themselves in the Burrow and celebrate.

It was the most exclusive event of the year, according to Witch Weekly, and Mrs. Weasley’s mania regarding it exceeded even her grief after the war and the craziness of her children’s weddings.

And Harry and Ron had just promised to help her plan and organize it, something the others took literal vacations to avoid (George and Angelina were currently in Botswana; Percy, Audrey and Oliver were pretending to be sick while definitely not being so; Bill, Fleur and Victoire had escaped to France; Neville was apparently swamped with work at the office while Harry knew he was tending to plants in his terrarium all day; Teddy had suddenly started throwing tantrums with destructive accidental magic again according to Andromeda; Kingsley was assigning himself paperwork, which was truly desperate).

“We’ll do the work,” Harry said defeatedly, Ron nodding morosely beside him.

Nothing for it, after all.

Ginny smiled and kissed him, which made his outlook a lot more positive.

She was worth the entire world.

Even spending his days buried in invitations, letters from various great-aunts and fifth and sixth cousins, gifts, catering orders and décor options.

[hpseeker99]

Ginny, on the phone with Harry: Turn around Ginny: No the other way Ginny: No wait now the other way Ginny: Okay one more time Harry: OH MY GOD, WHERE ARE YOU?!?! Ginny: Oh I’m not there yet, but the thought of you aimlessly turning around in circles amuses me

[ryanwrites05]

A/N: I’ve always had this scene in mind for them. The prompt for today gave me an excuse to put a few words to it. Hope you enjoy

______________________________

June 19 - Parents

@hinnymicrofic

December, 2000

The now familiar sight always made her smile, as she paused just outside the room. He was by the fire at the Burrow, laying on his back slowly raising Teddy up and down. The squeals of the toddler’s laughter echoed through the room. Holiday decorations surrounded them and she felt well and truly happy. Joyful, even.

Yes, she thought, this is what we fought for.

Harry let out a bark of laughter in tune with Teddy’s giggle and another wave of gratitude rushed over her -for him.

With everything he endured as a child - a young life filled with resentment and cruelty from his relatives - and then responsibilities as the Chosen One and rebuilding after the War. Yet despite all that, he was here in her living room, loving his godson, her family and her. It was quite the miracle from where they were just three years ago.

She subconsciously brought a hand to her stomach, still flat despite the other miracle now growing inside her.

She would tell him tonight, she decided. He was going to be a father - they were going to be parents. They already were for all intents and purposes, as Teddy let out another squeal of laughter as Harry tickled him again.

She knew he would be shell shocked, happy and terrified all at the same time. But she would be there with him through all of it. As they always did things now - together.

[norakelly]

Harry and Ginny head-canons <3

Some light hearted ones:)

(Did i type this out while ao3 was down? YES)

Harry for sure sneaked in to Hogwarts under the invisibility cloak to see Ginny during the day (Imagine him in auror robes and her in the quidditch uniform!!!)

Harry befreinds a stray cat during one of his first missions, and gives it to Ginny during their first Christmas so that she can take it back to Hogwarts. The cat stays with them until James starts school. (Along with many other cats of course)

Ginny was recruited as a trainee for Harpies after her second match during the last year, where she managed to break a scoring record of 11 years. She trained while in school, going back and forth from Hogwarts to Holyhead, a few days a week.

Harry loved his job minus the paperwork. He was quite good at it and succeeded to make many new friends out of his coworkers.

Harry and Ginny always held hands. Like always. Some physical touch was a must if they are staying close together. And she had a habit of leaning her head on his shoulder whenever as well, cause it was MADE for their height difference.

They went on a lot of roadtrips after Harry bought a vintage car that was on sale. He taught Ginny to drive and she got her license at 19. Somehow she became a better driver than him by the end. They used the car to go on muggle trips and to drop the kids at muggle primary schools.

They had a very small wedding at the burrow garden. Very private and surrounded by close friends and family only. They later registers in the muggle way as well, alone at a small church.

Ginny would throw a fit whenever Harry decides to shave his beard but always ends up liking it.

She gets a lot of hand and shoulder cramps due to her physically demanding profession as a chaser. So Harry helps her around with whatever she needs, specially during the quidditch season. He loves coddling her even though she acts as if she hates it.

He ends up in St Mungos quite often as well. And every time, Ginny would scoop up with him in the bed side by side. This became a habit after the children as well, where she would extend the bed so that they can hop in together with him (without disturbing of course)

Want more head canons? Lmk:)

[greenhousethree]

In Search of an Oak (Microfic and New Fic!)

2nd June Prompt for @hinnymicrofic: Today (500 words)

This scene preludes my latest fic, which can be found on AO3.

“Trying to give my brother space?”

She’d found Hermione on the back porch, secluded in the Burrow’s shadow, rocking the swing with one toe on the ground. The chains creaked when she sat.

Finally, the gathering in the garden was dwindling. Maybe some had finally arrived at the idea that her family couldn’t wait for today to end. That her parents needed rest after burying their son.

Hermione’s lip quirked. “I didn’t want to be in the way.”

Ginny examined her, finding the same guilt she’d seen in Lee. It was less frustrating than all the pity. “You know Harry broods alone, not Ron, right? My brothers are pretty social creatures.” 

Across the garden, Bill was conjuring a lantern, surrounded by red-haired men at the table from where she’d come.

Hermione smiled wanly in response. “He needs time with family. He’s been around me plenty.”

Ginny swirled and sipped her wine as a lonely chill slipped down her spine— a longing to wrap her arms around herself, hold herself together. It crept in to fill her suspended detachment, born from a unique combination of grief and liquor. 

“Sweet of you. Seems like he’d want you around, though. Things are different between you two now, yeah?”

Hermione shrugged and smirked, lifting her glass to drink. Ginny watched her family and guests, plates of hors d'oeuvres and murmured conversations. Her gaze wandered involuntarily to the lone dark-haired figure sat beneath the huge old willow, and Hermione’s followed.

“Is he alright?” The question tumbled out without permission, startling her.

Hermione sighed, raising one halfhearted shoulder.

“What happened out there, Hermione?”

Surely she'd be far from the first to ask. Far from the first who needed to know.

Hermione watched Harry, lips forming a thin line. “I don’t even think I know the whole story,” she finally said. “He’s got a lot on his mind.”

“That’s new.”

The older witch snorted into her glass before giving her an odd look. “I’m sure he would tell you, you know.”

Ginny drank deeply. Bristled at the fear tingeing her voice, incapable of more than a whisper: “We’ve barely exchanged more than five words. He doesn’t want to talk.”

Hermione frowned. “Harry's always been rubbish at this…. he’s probably been trying to give you space. But he still has feelings for you.”

“And what makes you think that?”

Her smile was pained. “It wasn’t easy to keep secrets, Ginny.”

They both jumped as the back door opened and Fleur swept outside, levitating several flasks of pumpkin juice. 

“I’m serious,” Hermione pressed with finality as they both rose to assist.

Ginny eyed him again as she collected empty plates, her stomach churning uneasily, firewhisky and wine smudging the edges between her thoughts. Today, her brother was in the ground. Today, they’d all made it past the end of the world. It filled her with the distinct resolve of having nothing to lose.

She refilled her glass, armoring herself, and took the first few steps across the garden.

Read the full story here.

[tomjamesavery]

Reconciliations (Part One) Written for the Ginnyversary Bingo with the prompt: #O69 — "With her faded dress and worn shoes, she knew she couldn't go."

This is Chapter One of a two-chapter story, I will post over the coming few days :) Read on: AO3

Ginny stepped into the headmistress’s office in Hogwarts, as McGonagall greeted her with a curt nod. She was in a great mood. The weekend at home would bring her some much-needed relaxation, even with the whole wedding commotion.

“Miss Weasley,” McGonagall exclaimed in greeting. Her blue eyes observed her with what Ginny liked to call, The classic McGonagall look.

“Professor McGonagall,” Ginny replied, smiling at the Headmistress.

“The Floo is ready for you, and like we agreed, I expect you to be back on Sunday, no later than 8 pm. Is that clear?” The teacher sternly declared as Ginny nodded in confirmation.

“Well with that out of the way-” McGonagall gave Ginny one of her rare smiles. “-I wish you a nice weekend at Mr. Percy’s wedding. Please send him and Ms. Audrey my dearest regards.”

“I will! Thank you for letting me go!” Ginny replied, grinning at the Professor, just before disappearing into the flames.

A second later she was stumbling into the burrow living room, quickly dusting herself off in the process, struggling to get the soot out of her long hair.

Preparations were already in order, even though Percy and Audrey wouldn't marry at the Burrow like Bill and Fleur did, the whole kitchen and living room were filled with precooked dishes, desserts, and cakes for tomorrow. The smell was heavenly, and Ginny could basically hear her stomach yelling for something.

But that wasn’t on Ginny’s mind right now, she was glad McGonagall had let her go early since she still needed an outfit for tomorrow. Her dress for Bill’s wedding last year, had been destroyed in the fighting, and with the rest of her faded dresses and worn shoes, she knew she couldn’t go.

And there was another thing Ginny was nervous about. Harry would be there. And while they had mostly made up after what had happened before the battle, and over the time where he was on the run with her brother and Hermione. There was still palpable tension in the air between them.

The last time she had seen him was over a month ago when he had come to visit Hogwarts to help with some of the last bits of repair work that had to be done after the battle had destroyed large parts of the castle.

But the two of them had only exchanged some brief words, a heavy tension lying in the air throughout the whole conversation.

But right now Harry needed to wait, first Ginny needed to visit London for a dress new dress. There was no dress code for the wedding, Audrey-, to Percy’s dismay, -wanted to leave the choice up to each individual liking's, stating that it was just more fun, with which Ginny wholeheartedly agreed.

After Ginny had greeted her mother, who had been working in the garden, she quickly threw her bag onto her bed. Before taking the Floo to the leaky cauldron, where she met up with Fleur who would help her with picking out a fitting dress for the wedding.

The two women had quickly grown closer after the battle, as Fleur had been there for the family every single minute after they had lost Fred, and Ginny would be forever grateful for that.

Ginny greeted the older women with a wave, as Fleur stepped into the Leaky cauldron. Squeezing past a group of slightly tipsy goblins.

“Hello Ginny, you look great, I am happy to zee you!” She called out, quickly closing the distance before the two hugged tightly. Ginny could smell Fleur’s familiar lavender perfume, and it reminded her of the many evenings her sister-in-law had sat with her in the Burrow living room, listening to Ginny sharing all her favourite memories of Fred.

“Hi! I am so happy to see you too.” Ginny told her. “Thank you a lot for doing this, I would’ve been totally lost without you, dresses and I don’t go well together.” She chuckled, only making Fleur shake her head.

“Zis is so wrong!  On mine and Bill’s wedding, you looked more than stunning in your dress!” Fleur honestly told her. “You have become a beautiful young woman, Ginny!”

Ginny slightly blushed under the praise as they made their way outside, and Ginny almost stumbled over a dancing Goblin.

They talked about Hogwarts and how the Wizarding and Witching world was recovering from Voldemort’s tough reign. Fleur and Bill had been promoted, and now both lead new rebuilding and subsidising departments at Gringotts. Things were looking up all around.

They walked in comfortable silence for a few minutes, and Ginny used the chance to take in the muggle architecture of the big city, still not feeling comfortable while these blasted muggle machines raced past them. Brooms were so much more convenient she thought.

They stopped in front of a red light at a crosswalk and Fleur stared at her for a second, before she spoke up.

“What is with Harry? Have you spoken to him rezently?” The blond woman observed her carefully and Ginny only stared out into the distance as she spoke up.

“No… Not really.” She paused for a while.

“I guess things between us are still complicated…” She started.  “It’s just… I guess…” Ginny paused again.

“So much happened while he was gone, and we both went through so much, it takes time. We both still love each other, that I know. But we don’t want to rush things now.” She sighed, staring at the traffic light which had just turned green, as the two women crossed the road.

“See, I understand that.” Fleur began. “But there is taking things slow, and there is basically not doing anything at all.”

They had reached the other side and Fleur stopped to look at her as Ginny met her sister-in-law’s clear blue eyes. “Ginny, it has been eight months since the battle, you two can’t keep avoiding each other.” Fleur pointed out. “You two are made for each other, you love each other, you need each other! Every day you aren’t together you’re missing out on so much love and happiness.” She finished.

And Ginny knew she was right, she loved Harry, and she knew Harry loved her just as much, they had this bond, this connection neither of them could explain, they were drawn towards each other, every second of every day, every moment that passed her heart yearned for him.

But they needed to speak, and neither of them was especially great when it came to talking about their feelings. Ginny sighed, as she brushed her red hair from her eyes, the wind was blowing strongly and she was struggling to keep it under control.

She met Fleur’s gaze again before she spoke up. “You’re right…” Ginny admitted. “But how? We are just so bad when it comes to talking about what moves us and goes on in our minds.” She asked, making Fleur chuckle.

“Ginny, think back, your bond was so special, you told me that you and Harry could share anything, and there was nothing you two couldn’t talk about. You two just understood each other! Being able to talk about anything is so rare, and it just shows how much you are made for each other.” Fleur explained bluntly.

“You just both need to get over this mental blockade that things are suddenly different. Because they aren’t, you still love each other, you still get each other.”

Fleur was quiet for a second as she seemed to think before a grin crossed her features. “I think you are both just scared to discover that things between you have changed, that you have grown apart, and that you don’t love each other anymore. But all of that couldn't be further from the truth! You still are so alike, you still are so in love, and I think those months of hardship you both endured will just bring you two even closer together than you have ever been before!” She finished, looking at Ginny in understanding.

And Ginny knew Fleur was right. She had been scared to find a different Harry, a Harry she couldn’t love anymore, a changed Harry. And she was scared Harry would see her differently, and maybe would lose interest, moving on to someone else. But that was all wrong, those months of darkness had infected them with doubt and insecurity. Fleur was right, they needed to talk, as soon as possible, he was the love of her life, every day they weren’t together was a day without the person she loved most on this planet.

Her face broke out into a wide grin as she spoke. “Fleur, You are so- “-Right. I know!” The blond woman cut her off, smiling, making Ginny roll her eyes as she couldn’t contain her laughter.

“Yes, yes, you are right,” Ginny admitted. “Me and Harry need to talk, as soon as possible-” She stared ahead, the early spring sun bathing the houses in a slight tinge of orange. “-because I love this man more than anything else…”

[madammalkins23]

My first post for @hinnymicrofic a day late but I wanted to give a try for yesterday's prompt !

Thank you again @honeydukesheroine for beta reading 🙏💫

PROMPT 26 : FEAR (423 words)

Soft afternoon light flooded through the open window onto the ceiling of her room, sending rays of dust dancing as the curtains moved.

Ginny laid still on her bed, the familiar crochet blanket scratchy beneath her bare legs.

Everything is made of dust, she thought. Yet, when she thought of Fred, she figured a lean young man with a crooked grin, ready to laugh and full of mischief, not as a pile of dust.

He had died yesterday, it was absurd.

How could he not be here now, back at the Burrow with them? She still felt him around, waiting for fresh news on the radio, ready to act, to finally escape hiding and do something meaningful. Hot tears ran down her cheeks, down her neck and she let them. She was exhausted. She didn’t understand how someone as smart and as brilliant as her brother had died.

A soft knock on her door made her blink. She didn’t want to talk to anyone, she needed some time by herself.

‘Hey, I wanted to check on you’, he murmured, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

He approached with hesitant steps, his hands in his pockets. He was the last person she wanted to see today. She crossed her arms, tightly wrapping them around herself, eyes remaining fixed on the ceiling.

Deep down, even if she would never tell him so, she couldn't understand how he came back when Fred didn’t. He’d been limp in Hagrid’s arms and yet here he was, standing in her childhood bedroom. She couldn’t look at him right now.

‘Are you-’

‘-don’t Harry.’

Her voice broke. Treacherous tears escaped her.

She wiped her nose with the back of her hand and sniffed. It was easier to watch the dust dancing towards the ceiling than to meet his green eyes. It was easier to focus on the anger she felt at him, for staying away, for walking towards that bloody forest, for leaving her behind. Easier than to think of Fred, lying beneath the ground in a wooden box.

Harry took a step back and her heart thrumped in her chest. He was like a wild animal, afraid of every noise, always on guard and ready to flee at the first sign of danger.

Fearing he would run away and never come back, she turned her head in his direction. But he was already leaving, head bowed, back to her, his hand on the doorknob.

'I'm here if you need anything' he said softly, and he left.

[takeariskao3]

Jump

written for @hinnymicrofic (and @fairsquare16)

He was supposed to jump. Without thinking, without anticipating the consequences, without worrying about who was watching. Like he did before. But this wasn’t before. This was after. And no matter what he did, no matter where they ended up, no matter if she had tear stained cheeks, or he had dark circles under his eyes, or they ran into each other at 2am in the kitchen… He couldn’t jump.

[whinlatter]

pssssst… new fic coming soon out now!

posting the first chapters of a new fic called beasts this week 👀

update: fic now posted on ao3 here!

lil vibe check for the occasion 🌿🌲🌳🌱🍃🍂🍁🪹🪵🪨🪶🐾

'From beasts we scorn as soulless, In forest, field and den, The cry goes up to witness The soullessness of men.' — m. frida hartley (1928)

“And Max, the king of all wild things, was lonely and wanted to be where someone loved him best of all.” — maurice sendak, where the wild things are (1963)

plus a lil playlist to take you up to the highlands, out to the forest + get you feeling suitably feral:

feeling curious?🦉🐺🦌 ask me anything! (i don't bite)

[fallingstarsburn]

HI NEED FIC RECS PLZ

anyone got any post-harry potter fics? like ones that start almost directly after he kills voldemort, but before kids and stuff. can be hinny or drarry bur more interested in harry’s character and recovery and world building and stuff!