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emeritusemeritus · 8 months

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No Good Deeds [George Weasley x Reader]

Part 5

Part 1 2 3 4 5

Pairing: {George Weasley x Reader} mentions of previous Fred Weasley x Reader.

Timeline: Set a few years after DH, loosely following Canon.

Summary: A few years after Fred’s death, the investors of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes demand changes to the name. All it would take is two years of a fake marriage to fix the issues, but no good deed goes unpunished.

Warnings: Fake marriage trope because we love the cliché. Mentions of death (Fred). Friends to lovers. Slow burn but mentions of kissing and eventual smut. Swearing. George calls us Angel. Drinking. SMUT. The smut has arrived! P in V, oral (both). Angst, sadness, grief. Tags will be updated with each chapter. Not Beta-read or spell checked.

Honeymoon time 💕

Your wedding to George was a jubilant celebration with your family and friends, a chance to bask in the love you were so thankful to receive from everyone around you. You'd honoured Fred in many ways that day, including photos of him, an empty chair with his name on and many other little ways to make it seem like he was there. You'd noticed George had worn his chain under his suit shirt and the sight of it made butterflies flutter inside you.

It was a small and quaint wedding that had admittedly been rushed in planning, only two weeks after you'd announced your engagement, but it was perfect. No one had doubted your intentions and the day had gone completely to plan, except for the regular hiccups that seem to occur when a group of people are brought together. Muriel had been characteristically foul as usual and had clashed with your great aunt Ariadne though she'd avoided the more triggering topics which was one consolation.

You danced with your friends and your now blended family late into the night, with George eventually stealing you back from dancing with Bill for one final dance.

"Have you had a good day Mrs Weasley?" He asks, holding you close as you sway with surprising grace even with the healthy amount of alcohol you'd both consumed.

"The best, Mr Weasley," you beam up at him, his handsomeness once again hitting you as you look upon his smiling face.

"Couldn't have asked for better. I don't think you've ever looked more beautiful."

The night you'd spent together had not been repeated since, nor had you really spoken about it. There was a lingering tension between you, growing increasingly stronger throughout the day as you thought of your wedding night and honeymoon, the anticipation almost consuming you.

Ginny and Fleur had whisked you away from George not long after your final dance to get you ready to leave for your honeymoon, which you'd be departing for very soon. It was tradition in the Weasley family to immediately begin your honeymoon the night of the wedding and you had readily accepted the chance to exit out of the wedding a little earlier into the night, giving you and George some time alone.

You'd chosen to honeymoon in the U.K. to keep costs down, after all this whole situation was based upon George reclaiming the shop as sole owner and any unnecessary spending would only increase the amount of time you'd be married. Bill and Fleur had graciously offered for you to stay in Shell Cottage with them but George had instead chosen to surprise you with your destination. He'd tactfully evaded every single one of your questions, relishing in his power of knowledge but had thankfully given you a few clues as to what you should pack. Clothes for all weather, from hot to bitter cold, a couple of 'nice' outfits and a bathing suit. So, nothing to really go off.

Percy had arranged a ministry car for you to borrow for the week, his gift for you both and you'd decided to travel like muggles for the week, taking your time and only using magic when necessary. George was driving to your destination, the luggage and travel necessities having been packed up earlier that day by the Weasley boys and Harry.

The crowd cheered as you both walked towards the car that was waiting for you, your family and friends gathered around with jubilant faces as you walked hand in hand towards the car. You both paused to thank and embrace Mr and Mrs Weasley before climbing into the car, George opening the door for you before getting in on his side. You waved at the gathering of people in front of you as George pulled away and as you pulled away from the Burrow, you peered through the back window, squirming around the freshly painted 'just married' sign to see your loved ones fading further away as they carried on the party.

"Are you okay?" George asks gently as he drives out of Ottery St Catchpole, the rolling Devonshire fields passing you by as the sun begins to set.

"I'm... incredible, I don't think there are words for how I'm feeling," you say with a wide smile, giggling a little at your inability to get your words out. He chuckles and reaches for your hand, pulling it onto the gear stick to join his.

"I know what you mean, I feel like I'm floating," he says, flashing you a smile before turning his attention back to the road. You take the opportunity of his attention being elsewhere to really look at him, the plains of his face looking unbelievably handsome to you. He looked stunning in his suit, the colour and cut of the material only serving as a compliment to his gorgeous red hair and sharp features.

"Checking me out Mrs Weasley?" He says with a smirk, eyes still fixed on the road. You fight to hide the creeping blush that appears on your cheeks, realising that he'd caught you staring. You bite your lip and turn away, choosing to look out of the window at the rolling hills instead. "You can you know, I'm yours now."

You turn to look at him and the smile he has plastered on his face fills you with warmth and nervous excitement.

"You look so handsome, I feel like I can't take my eyes off you," you admit, a little bashfully.

He gives a deep chuckle and squeezes your hand that is still held by his own.

"You have no idea how hard it is to drive right now, all I want to do is stare at you," he admits, though he sounds completely unashamed of his words. You blush and look away again, this time out of pure bliss, wanting to remember everything about this moment.

"Get some sleep Angel, it's quite a drive," he says softly a few minutes later, turning down the radio that was playing music in the background.

"I'm okay," you lightly protest, despite feeling relaxed by the drive. "I wish I'd taken this dress off though, not the best travelling outfit."

"And take that joy away from me? How dare you," he jokes, sounding a little outraged. Your stomach instantly fills with nerves and butterflies at his words; he intended to take your dress off.

You fell asleep a short while later, just as the last slither of sunlight had disappeared into the horizon, the long stretch of road ahead now only lit by car lights and the faint cats eyes on the ground. The mixture of the low humming from the radio, the gentle rocking of the car and the presence of George was enough to lull you into a much needed sleep as you cuddled into a pillow you'd thought to pack, wishing that you were wearing something much less restrictive but that couldn't be helped.

When you woke again, it was still pitch black and George was still driving, the car lights ahead of you the only clue to where you were.

"Hi Angel," George says, noticing you staring as he briefly looks over at you with a smile.

"Mmm, hi Georgie," you mumble back, still fighting off the last embers of sleep. "Where are we?"

"Nice try," he says, not falling at the last hurdle and you give a little huff, hoping that one would have worked. "About an hour away."

"Is there time to stop for a coffee somewhere?" You ask, sitting straighten in your seat as you abandon the pillow into your lap.

"I don't know anywhere that would be open," he says, flicking his eyes to the dashboard clock, prompting you to do so and realising that it was now past midnight, much to your surprise.

"McDonald's will be," you say with a little shrug, trying to see any hints from signposts as to where you were of where the next services would be.

"McDonald's?" He asks, completely oblivious and you can't help but laugh, never having thought about how the notion of 24 hour fast food had not yet entered the wizarding world, making George completely oblivious.

"It's a 24 hour restaurant, usually around road services, it's fast food," you explain. He immediately gets it and let's out a little 'ahhh' of understanding, telling you that there was a services coming up and you could check if there was one there. There was.

Introducing George Weasley to drive-through ordering was nothing short of hilarious and you'd briefly lamented the fact that his first McDonald's experience wouldn't be inside an actual McDonald's building but you were not about to enter a fast food joint at a service station in a wedding dress. You'd both ordered a coffee, yourself a medium coke and then you had excitedly introduced him to not only a Big Mac but also chicken nuggets, both of which were a complete revelation to him and you had to hold back serious giggles at his reactions. Half an hour later and you were on your way, coffees in hand and belly's a little fuller as you prepared for the last part of your journey.

"Are you sure you don't want me to take over? I don't mind driving to give you a break," you offered as you watch him put on his seatbelt.

"You don't know where we're going," he says with a devilish smirk but you feign innocence.

"Then just tell me and I'll get us there," you say innocently, batting your eyelashes at him.

"Nice try baby," he says with an even more sinister smirk, his eyes roaming your face briefly before he turns on the car and begins to pull away after one last sip of coffee.

You were transfixed as George turned right up a long winding path entirely shielded by trees, the long road leading you deeper under the canopy of trees until you were completely surrounded by woodland. You could make out a small, warm light at the end of the long road and became transfixed on the approaching light, trying to focus your eyes hard on that point, trying to make sense of it. The car swerved a little to avoid a large twig in the road which brought your destination into clear view.

You gasped at the beauty of the scene in front of you, looking excitedly at George who looked more than pleased at your reaction.

"George," you say breathlessly as he parks up in the little clearing beside the place you'd be staying.

It was a rustic log cabin, completely shielded away from everything by a large canopy of trees, a beautiful escape completely hidden away from the outside world. The cabin was almost entirely made of wood with wooden shutters and a wrap around deck.

"George it's beautiful," you say, completely gobsmacked as you look at the gorgeous lodge in front of you, seeing it illuminated by the multiple lanterns that offered a stark contrast against the pitch black night.

"Only the best for my bride," he teases, opening up his car door, prompting you to do the same.

"Want to explore whilst I unload the car?" He asks with a grin, holding the keys to the cabin out in front of you, the little wooden keyring clinking against the two old fashioned keys. You nod enthusiastically and reach out to grab them, pulling George in and without much thought, you leaned up to press a kiss to his lips. Instantly, you realised what you'd done and took a step back, blushing a little as you avoided his gaze. His hand had instinctively wrapped around your back and he gave your back a little rub as you parted, showing no ill will as you turned and walked excitedly towards the cabin.

Opening the door, you were immediately met with an illuminated room thanks to the warm lighting from multiple lamps and light fixtures. The cabin was warm, as if there was a log fire already burning and the smell was heavenly, clean and fresh but with an indisputable scent of wood and pine, a natural consequence of it's idyllic surroundings. You walked through a little entrance hall that houses a utility room before stepping into an open living room, dining room and kitchen, all of which were warm and inviting with natural wood features throughout and neutral colours, highlighting the windows which you knew would almost certainly have beautiful views in the morning. There were two brown leather sofas that looked absolutely lush and a single armchair underneath a window that looked perfect for reading, a tall lamp beside it and a little table for drinks. There was a television and a cabinet in the corner and beside that was a beautiful log burner that was indeed lit, radiating heat throughout the home. You couldn't see much through the side door that was half glass but the outside light did illuminate the decking a little, highlighting a rather impressive sunken hot tub that was covered, eliciting a little excited squeal from you.

You walked down a small corridor that led off from the main atrium through a beautifully carved wooden door with an old metal latch which led you to the bathroom on the left and two bedrooms. You crept into the bathroom to take a peak and saw a big bathtub to the left and a built in shower to the right, as if every need was catered for. One bedroom has two single beds partitioned with a beautiful shelving unit and the other bedroom was almost certainly the master.

There was a huge four poster bed against the back wall bookended by two beside tables with lamps that looked entirely too inviting. The bedding was sheer white and completely crease free, only adding to its appeal. There was a smaller television in here too, along with a dressing table and a large, ornate wardrobe that looked older than the cabin itself.

"What do you think Mrs Weasley?" George asks from behind you as you pause to run your hand over the ornately carved bed frame. You turn to see him leaning against the doorframe with a smirk, still wearing his wedding suit but now with his tie removed and a few buttons open near his collar.

"I think it's absolutely beautiful Mr Weasley," you reply, turning to him with a look of pure elation.

"Just like my wife then," he says with a look in his eyes that makes your pulse race. He steps towards you with clear conviction and it's all you can do not to melt into a puddle, the look in his eye so dangerously arousing that you're almost frozen to the spot. It was the first time he'd called you his wife and the reaction that it pulled from your body was almost unbelievable, the sound of it almost heavenly in your mind.

As soon as he reaches you, there's a brief pause as if he's searching your face for any hint of resistance, not that he'd find any. When he sees the look in your eye, knowing that you wanted him just as much as he wanted you, he steps even closer and wraps his hand around the back of your neck before leaning down and kissing you with a burning passion.

Your hands slip up to his chest, feeling the material of his lapels under your fingers and pull slightly, needing to feel him as close to you as possible as you pull his jacket off. His fingers tangle in your hair as the kiss deepens, tongues working together to fuel the burning desire between you both.

With his right hand cradling your head and his left clutching as your waist, he begins leading you to the side of the bed, silently asking if it was okay to go further.

"Make love to me George," you say against his lips, hardly wanting to pull away for even a second. You hear him groan against your lips before his hand slips from your hair and down to your butt, cradling you and taking your weight. In a move that would otherwise impress you if you'd seen it in person, he sweeps you off your feet whilst climbing onto the bed and lays you down softly before climbing over you, kicking off his shoes in the process.

"I've waited all day to rip this dress off of you," he mumbles against your skin as he begins kissing down your neck, onto your bare shoulders where your dress straps began, the soft layers of the gown suddenly feeling much too restrictive as your skin burnt up with desire. He kisses down your chest as your hands tangle in his slightly grown out hair. There's a single moment where your eyes meet, just as he hovers over your panting cleavage and it takes your breath away how absolutely sexy he looks, the desire and admiration in his eyes mirroring your own. His long fingers drag against your rib cage as they dance over to your covered breasts before he reaches in to pull down the cup of dress, exposing your right breast to him, your dusky pink nipple already hard and waiting for him. He groans, watching your breast spring free and immediately bends down to run his tongue over the pebbled nipple, eliciting a deep, breathy moan from you before his lips wrap about the little bud and begin sucking. You moan out again, throwing your head back into the pillows at the overwhelming sensation and suddenly you feel the whole atmosphere change. There's no trepidation anymore, no resistance or questioning but rather just a primal urge between both of you.

You can tell that George is feeling for the opening your dress so you divert his fingers to the small, concealed zipper on the side and help him drag it down, much too slowly for your liking. He pulls away the dress after you slip your arms out and you watch carefully as his mouth slips open to a little 'o' shape as he pulls the dress from your body, exposing you completely to his gaze. You couldn't wear a bra with your dress thanks to the unique straps but you had thought you buy a tiny white lace thong that you'd had embroidered with a little 'W' on the left side of the crotch, knowing it would either make him laugh or make him growl. Luckily for you, it was most certainly the latter as he groaned as he spotted it, momentarily fixated on your naked breasts that were exposed completely for his view, his eyes travelling down your body with acute precision before he eventually noticed your little customisation. He groans and leans down to press a kiss directly to where the 'W' was situated, just above your mound and you can't help but squirm as the sensation of having him so close to where you needed him. He notices, of course he does, and his eyes flick up to yours with a look of pure mischief as he begins kissing the inside of your thigh and across your bikini line, teasing you. You groan and can't help but roll your hips as he flutters kisses everywhere apart from where you need them.

"My beautiful wife needs something?" He teases, acting completely oblivious when you knew he was very aware.

"Please George," you beg, "need you."

Like a switch had been flicked in George's mind, his long fingers begin tracing your pussy through the very thin and nearly transparent lace, groaning once again when he feels the wetness seeping through the lace. You feel his fingers hook into the side of your thong, catching your labia with a little stroke before he pulls them away from your burning pussy, exposing you completely to his view. He wastes no time and leans down, licking a long stripe across your pussy, catching your swollen clit with the til of his tongue in the most perfect way that has you gasping and moaning.

"Fuck you taste good, so sweet," he whines into your pussy, resting his forehead against your mound for a moment before he slips down again, this time licking you with vigour. "So wet baby."

His tongue is everywhere, delicately stroking and teasing whilst also hitting every spot you need him in perfectly. It's a perfect juxtaposition between his igniting a fire inside of you, making you burn with desire and pure torment whilst also extinguishing the flames with his tongue. As soon as his finger traces your inner lips as it moves down, gently pressing into your waiting hole before he slips one of his long, deft fingers inside of you, you're gone. His name falls from your lips like a prayer, hips rising of their own accord as you grope your breasts, completely consumed by your pleasure. He slips a second finger into you as you cry out, fucking yourself on his fingers as he circles your clit with his tongue, putting pressure on the left side just as he's discovered drives you crazy.

"George, George!" You chant as you feel the beginning of your orgasm rising in you very quickly, consuming you and burning you from the inside out. Your pussy is drenched and you can feel more arousal gushing from you as your climax crests, George's own moans ringing out in your mind as he pushes you over the edge. It's like you're falling, the crescendo of light and burning arousal overtaking your whole body and mind, the only capable thought in your mind is of George. He licks you slowly as you come down, careful to avoid your sensitive clit as he laps up your cum, fingers still slowly fucking you bath and forth with gentle strokes, extending your pleasure.

You gasp to catch your breath, chest rising and falling rapidly as your heart pounds, the effects of your orgasm still lingering as you feel a tingle across your whole body. It takes all of ten seconds for you to focus your attention back to George who has pulled his fingers out of you and began kissing your inner thigh again, soothing you as you return to him.

You sit up and reach for him, pulling him on top of you as you kiss him feverishly, moaning as you taste yourself on his lips. He notices and groans deeply against your lips, almost growling as you lick at his lips, desperate for a taste. You claw at his shirt, desperate to even out your nudity and feel his skin against yours and as if he can sense the sheer desperation, reaches down and completely rips the front of his shirt, the flying and falling buttons only an afterthought as you fight to get the shredded shirt away from his body. Your hands slip to his smooth shoulders and down his back as you kiss him desperately, pulling his tongue into your mouth so you can suck on it, relishing in his deep groans and little whines. Your hands rest on his collarbones as you slowly pull away from him, pushing him slightly until he realises was you want. You overpower him with just enough force that he rolls onto his back as you immediately latch to his chest, kissing and biting as you make your way down to your destination.

His suit trousers are completely tented, the sheer size an excitement of him almost intimidating to you as you fight to open the fastenings of his trousers. You don't wait even a moment after they are open to slide them down his hips, along with his black boxer briefs until he was completely bare, except from his sentimental chain and your wedding rings. You crawl back up the bed after throwing aside his bottoms and flick your eyes up to see his own desperate look as you come face to face with his rather impressive member. His lips are parted and he looks completely desperate as he watches you carefully, silently pleading for you to take his aching length in your mouth. You grant him reprieve almost instantly, licking straight from the crest of his balls to the engorged tip of his cock, tracing the throbbing vein on the underside of his cock, following the gentle curve. He cries out at the contact and it makes you want to do everything in your power to hear it over and over again.

You gave into him completely, taking his tip in your mouth and licking all around, earning another heavenly noise from him before you sucked in your cheeks and bobbed up and down his length, taking him deeper and deeper with each fall; never stopping your tongue from running along the length of him. You were addicted to him, the taste, the weight of his length against your tongue, the feel of his smooth skin against your lips. You fought to go further with each bob, sucking him down like the most delicious treat from Honeydukes, giving everything you could.

George was moaning mess before you, desperately searching for any part of your body he could reach as he fought to stop his hips from rising each time you'd pull off, like he never wanted to leave your hot, wet mouth. Sweet names, curses and a load more expletives fell from his mouth as you pleasured him until he reached out, leaning forward to pull you closer to him.

You were dripping, more aroused than ever and so desperate for him to fill you that it was all you could think about. He pauses, looking at the little strip of lace that was still misplaced, concealing nothing of yourself and ripped the thin strings on the sides, tearing it away from your body, both of you complete bare to the other's gaze.

It was so intimate and intense that it stole the breath from your lungs, just how adoringly he was gazing at you. His hand grabbed around your neck, holding your face and threading into your hair as he kissed you completely without abandon, your chests pressed together as your leg slipped between his, desperately seeking friction.

"Ride me baby," he mumbles against your lips and as if acting directly on command, you comply. You lift your hips and straddle him, his narrow hips allowing your thighs to rest against his comfortably as your centres align, the heat and sensitivity joining together to make you both gasp.

He reaches down and holds his perfect cock at the bottom, ready for you to climb onto and you can hardly contain your cries as you slowly sink down, feeling him stretching you out. He pulls his hand away, moaning at the sensation as his hand rests on your bum, the large hand and long fingers wrapping around your bum and thigh.

It's sinful how well he stretches you out, filling you completely without any pain or discomfort, like you'd been moulded perfectly for his cock alone.

When your hips rise again and you sink back down, this time much more confidently, your head flips back at the sensation. George grunts and tightens his grip on you as you slowly begin to ride him, hips undulating and breasts bouncing as you fall into a perfect rhythm. Your hair fans out across your back and you've never felt sexier in that moment, feeling adored under his gaze and praised by not only his words but also his moans and growls.

You're both so worked up, so perfectly in sync that you can hardly contain yourself, not even caring to try and hold off the impending climax that threatens you, creeping up slowly until it's impossible to resist. You can feel your walls clenching around him, your arousal peaking as it leaks out around his cock and you're rewarded with the most incredible moans that spill from his lips at the sensation.

"George, Georgie I'm gonna," you stagger, completely breathless as you keep riding him, finding the perfect spot and movement so that he hits every single pleasure point inside you.

"Cum Angel, fuck, cum around my cock," he pants, groaning and tightening his grip on your hips as he fucks up into you. "Godric you're tight, perfect little pussy squeezing my cock so good. Cum for me Angel."

You chant his name as the heat of your second orgasm consumes you, never once stopping as you bounce on his cock. He takes over fucking up into you as you ride out your climax, filling you completely as he shoves his entire length into you before pulling almost completely out and repeating the motion. You're in complete bliss, overwhelmingly so, and can hardly stop tears of overstimulation brimming at your eyes, blurring your vision only slightly. George lets out a roar as he cums, fucking up into you with a brutal pace that is sinful at best. His hands pull you close to him, bruises forming under his grip but it's perfect.

His thrust stop slowly as he comes down from his high, riding out the last of his pleasure as he pulls you down to rest on him, softening cock slipping out at the angle. You breathe deeply as you feel the evidence of his pleasure slipping out of you slowly, trickling down until it dripped onto your inner thighs.

He cranes his neck to reach out to kiss you again, though this time it's like a warm down, gentle and sensitive.

"Welcome to the family," he wheezes after a few moments of comfortable silence and you let out a loud belly laugh at the absurdity of his words, tapping his chest as you slink down to rest beside him, his arm still keeping you pressed to him. He's covered you both with the duvet and you can't resist slipping into a very comfortable sleep, too comfortable and worn out from the day to fight it.

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#emeritusemeritus #emeritusemerituswrites #harry potter #george weasley masterlist #George Weasley x you #George Weasley x reader #George Weasley smut #George Weasley fluff #no good deeds

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inubaki · 3 months

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AdamsappleWeek2024

prompt 8: Roleswap

based off @taradiddled’s story. I love Adam’s journey of taking hold of their circumstances and coming into their own. And in doing so begins to actually affect those around them on a positive light. Comparing the sides of both Adam and Lucifer from their first meeting, to the start of the show, to this story, I think is fascinating. Roles change but dispute the change, it’s still you.

Oh! And this is what Lucifer made for Ada. They are so yummy!!

And Muriel for best everything!

#adamsappleweek2024 #prompt bonus 8 #Roleswap #hazbin hotel #adam x lucifer #guitarduck #adamsapple #fanart #lucifer x adam #adam demon #Ada #ao3 link #baked apples #lucifer morningstar #muriel the butler #pregnancy

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anonymousewrites · 18 days

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Adolescent Antichrist (Book 6) Chapter Sixteen

Father Figure! Lucifer Morningstar x Teen! Reader

Demon! OC x Reader

Chapter Sixteen: Adolescent Antichrist to Adolescent Deity

Summary: (Y/N) and Lucifer get to live and love.

Mouse Note: I can't believe it. Three years of this story, and it has come to its end. I can't believe. Red and Lucifer and Em and Leon and Olive and Noa and Marcel have been so near and dear to my heart for so long, it's hard saying go. But they have their happy ending. I couldn't be happier for them. And I couldn't be happier for all of you readers and commenters who supported my madness and my fun these last few years. You are all amazing, and I grew so much from the first chapter of Book 1 to this final chapter of Book 6. Thank you so much.

“So I don’t have to go out like Muriel?”

“No, you can have your own way of having fun and connecting with your interests,” said (Y/N). “Muriel is apparently a partier—there are other angels who like doing that. If you like quieter things more, then that’s fine. You can read, try tea or coffee, or just go for walks. Try joining a library book club if you’re lonely. Alright, Raphael?”

“…I suppose that makes sense,” said Raphael. “Thank you, G—Deity.”

“You’re welcome.” (Y/N) stood from the couch. “Are you feeling better?”

“I am.” Raphael shifted nervously. “I-I thought you wouldn’t speak to me, but Andriel said you helped her.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” said (Y/N), smiling. “Now, go and try something new but something that’s in your interests. You can go out of your comfort zone another time.”

“Thank you. Goodbye.” Raphael smiled, flapped his wings, and disappeared.

“Another successful therapy session?” said Lucifer, walking into the living room with a cup of tea.

He handed it to them, and (Y/N) took a thankful sip and sighed happily. They liked helping the angels out—boy did they need a lot of help—but it could also be tiring. After all, (Y/N) was seventeen still. Not for long, but still. There was a lot resting on their shoulders, and it was a miracle (ironically) that they had been doing so well for so long.

“Yes,” said (Y/N), smiling at Lucifer.

However, despite it all, (Y/N) was satisfied. There was peace. The angels were only making minor chaos on Earth exploring their individuality (which gave (Y/N) plenty of moments to get rid of their irritation by scolding them), (Y/N) could interfere ever-so-slightly if it felt like the world was about to tip in a dangerous direction (though (Y/N) avoided it since that felt wrong and they refused to actually control anyone since they respected free will—even to make mistakes), and (Y/N)’s life had finally found a rhythm of calm.

Or, near calm.

(Y/N) also had graduation and their fashion project to go, and then it was their birthday, and they needed a university to go to, and the angels wanted some sort of coronation or something in the Silver City (which they had already paraded (Y/N) around), and (Y/N) was tempted to escape to another universe at times.

“I’m glad things are going so well,” said Lucifer. “I admit, I was a bit worried.”

“You were worried? I was freaking out,” said (Y/N). It was one thing to become the Deity in the moment, but after a long, well-deserved nap, (Y/N) woke up literally glowing and screamed.

“And yet you have handled the transition with grace,” said Lucifer encouragingly.

“Grace was telling Jophiel he should try to be more than a frat boy in his life?” said (Y/N) sarcastically.

“Grace was telling him to find out more about himself,” said Lucifer.

He was incredibly proud of all that (Y/N) had achieved. He had wanted to be God to protect them, and now…they had grown up. He would always be there for them and help them and support them, but (Y/N) had grown strong and independent. He didn’t need to worry as much. And he was more than happy that they held the power of a God. Lucifer didn’t know of someone more deserving or capable.

(Y/N) smiled shyly and took a sip of their drink. “How is Michael?”

“I think the therapy is helping,” said Lucifer. “I suspect it is about family issues—”

“What else?” grumbled (Y/N).

“—but he’s seemed…calmer.” Lucifer smiled. “I doubt we will ever be close, but I think he is going to be a better person than he was.”

“The bar is pretty low,” joked (Y/N), but they were still glad.

“Indeed.” Lucifer chuckled. “But enough about family—or, Celestial family. We have an event tonight.”

“What?” said (Y/N), blinking.

“…Your fashion show?” said Lucifer.

“Shit!”

Apparently, being the Deity of Creation didn’t mean they couldn’t curse anymore.

“Okay, everyone’s makeup and hair is done, the clothing is ready, people are sitting down outside, the music is cued, what else, what else…” (Y/N) rambled as they walked around the backstage of their show.

“Birdie.” Em caught (Y/N)’s hands and squeezed. “Take a deep breath.”

(Y/N) looked at their partner and breathed in long and slow. They let out the breath, and their shoulders sagged.

“There you go,” said Em. “It’s going to be fine. Better than fine. The clothes look beautiful. Everyone is going to be in awe. And do you know why?”

“Because I can just use magic to make it better if something goes wrong?” said (Y/N).

Em laughed as (Y/N) tried to joke to take the edge off. “Because you worked hard. You don’t need magic or powers or anything else. You worked hard. And that is what counts. Alright? You have overcome every obstacle put in your life, and no matter what the challenge or danger, you’ve risen to it. This is a celebration of that strength. It’s a celebration of you. My Birdie.” She kissed (Y/N).

(Y/N) smiled and kissed back. “I’m so glad to have you. I know-I know it’s been a lot, me becoming…a deity, but I’m so happy I have you with me. Just like the others, but you—” (Y/N) swallowed. “Emeranne, I love you.”

Em’s smile widened, and pure adoration was in their gaze. “I love you, too, (Y/N). For all that you are.” They always had.

Em leaned in and kissed (Y/N) again. For a moment, the world was just the two of them in love. Everything was going to be alright. Because they had each other. Because they had love.

“This is exciting,” said Chloe, smiling. “I’m sure you’re proud of (Y/N).”

Lucifer nodded and smiled widely. “I am. And I haven’t seen any of the pieces put fully together, so I’m completely in the dark.”

“Emeranne refused to tell me, her queen, anything,” grumbled Maze.

“You need to have patience,” said Eve, chastising her girlfriend.

“They were probably nervous to show you,” said Linda.

“But I’m always proud of them,” said Lucifer.

“Yes, but you mean a lot to (Y/N). They want you to be impressed,” said Linda.

“Then I’ll grin the entire time,” said Lucifer.

Amenadiel chuckled. “I’m sure they’ll like that.”

“It’s going to be great. We all know how hard (Y/N) worked on this,” said Chloe.

“I know.” Lucifer’s smiled softened. “They’ve grown up into such a capable person. I don’t know where they got it.”

Chloe took his hand and squeezed. “I do.”

Lucifer smiled at her and kissed the back of her hand.

The lights of the room went off, and everyone sat up straighter. It was time for the show to begin. Over the speakers, dramatic classical music began. Red lights shot up around the room, casting mysterious shadows over the audience. White lights snapped on to face the stage.

Marcel walked out first. He had redyed his hair, and the purple was wisteria light, gentle and handsome. On his face, highlighter shone with golden dust, an exaggerated, ethereal feel. But the clothes were what stood out, what everyone was there for. And Marcel wore them proudly.

It was a suit of pure white. The pants were long and crisply sewn. The top was a button up with a high, lacy collar, and a corset cinched his waist. Overtop it all was a long white cloak, and down the edges were golden stitches. As it swept by, it was clear that the gold was stars, suns, and crosses. It matched the crosses dangling from his ears and the golden heels he walked in.

Marcel reached the end of the runway and posed with his hands in a prayer position.

Lucifer found himself grinning as he watched. (Y/N) had made their clothing be themed on their life, the different people and beings they knew. Their family. Marcel was playing the angel.

Olive was next to walk. Her blonde hair had been curled and pinned up so that the front fell messily around her face while the back was a bun of golden waves. The pins were gold with red jewels, glinting in the light. Ruby teardrop-shaped jewels hung from her ears and matched the dusting of red across Olive’s cheeks. Her eyes were dusted with pink eyeshadow, and their lips had the barest hint of redness. It seemed like she was supposed to be sorrowful, and her elegant, ballerina-style steps felt like melancholy drifted with her.

The clothes hung around her with beautiful somberness. Red billowing sleeves hung from her shoulders and were attached to a halter neck but were free from the bodice of Olive’s dress. It left her collarbone free for a red and gold necklace to highlight the neckline. The dress itself had a simple red corset top with no boning on the outside. White lace died slightly black—as if rotting—lined the top of the bodice, and a similar fade of white-to-black appeared in the ribbons sinching the corset. The skirts of the dress were of the same scarlet, falling long in the back and shortened with stitching and ribbons in the front, achieving an exaggerated Victorian effect. Her exposed legs were clad in red, rose-patterned tights, and the Mary Janes she walked in were white dipped in ink, dripping in darkness.

Olive reached the end of the runway and lifted a hand to drape it across her face with a sorrowful yet angry expression. With the golden curls and bare collar, Lucifer blinked as he recognized the picture she made. “Fallen Angel” by Alexandre Cabanel. Olive was the fallen angel. Luicfer.

Lucifer felt his heart stir, and he held Chloe’s hand tightly with emotion as Olive walked back past him.

Fortunately, the next model took his attention before he was too moved by (Y/N)’s design. They had their black coils of hair flowing freely, and they wore a black, dark-jeweled necklace across their neck. Gloves covered their arms, and an off-shoulder, lantern-sleeved dress of black lace fell from them. Gentle ruffles defined the shape and swayed with every step the model made. It was deceptively simple but beautifully made. The model blew a kiss at the end of the runway and turned with perfect attitude.

Eve, thought Lucifer. He wasn’t sure how he knew that, but he just did. It was the gentle femininity Eve favored in her clothes, but it had the black and darkness that Eve had found herself enjoying as she finally got together with Maze.

Eve herself grinned and held Maze’s hand tighter.

Leon was next to walk. He had lines of gold eyeliner around his eyes flaring out and a black lip on. The simple design of their makeup matched the simple elegance of their outfit.

It was a long and black. Thick borders lined the wrists and long necklace. The sleeves and bodice were translucent with gold and black designs stitched overtop. A wide belt defined Leon’s waist, and he had long, loose black pants. Similar golden designs sparkled on top of them. The back of the bodice flowed out into a black cape. It moved like shadows with every step Leon took. As he posed, they made sure to move just so the cape would fly through the air and billow like darkness.

(Y/N)’s powers. Lucifer smiled.

Noa walked next. Their braids were piled high on their head with a few hanging down around their face. Golden beads and a few fake coins hung in the braids. They had red eyeliner around their eyes and dark lipstick with red at the center of their lips.

They had on black shirt with billowing sleeves and ruffled wrists. Sleek black pants were on the bottom, and though both were tailored incredibly well, the best part of the outfit was the corset. It was just around the waist and looked like porcelain—cleverly painted and put together. Gold bonding trailed up Noa’s waist and became an ornamental halter like armor. The part around the waist had red paneling that shone in the light. From the waist hung gold chains with black and gold beads.

Noa posed with a smirk and a condescending, commanding look around the room.

Maze.

Mazikeen herself nodded with a smirk. She was pleased with how (Y/N) portrayed her and saw her.

The next model wasn’t someone they knew, but the theme continued. This model had nude makeup, but that was because the outfit stood out enough to make it unnecessary to have any more definition.

It was entirely red, from the jacket to the shirt to the pants. Red and dark scarlet jewels and beading were sewn into the lapels, around the collar, and onto the pants. As the model walked, the light glinted off the red, a beacon of hellish color.

The Antichrist. Lucifer smiled. He felt it. It was (Y/N)'s signature color

And now the finale. Em stepped out into the light and shone. Their red hair had slight waves despite its shortness, and gold dusted their cheeks. Her eyes were lined in white with golden eyeshadow, and simple metallic earrings were piercing their ears.

But the dress. The dress. It was as golden as the light that shone in (Y/N)’s wings. As golden as the light that shone in them and their powers. As golden as a god.

Em stepped forward. The dress had nude, transparent fabric across their neck and collar to allow for the dress to hand off their shoulders. It was beading around their neckline and became simple, wide sleeves. The dress fell around her like a waterfall of light, hanging asymmetrically down to their ankle. Golden heels glinted as Em walked down. From the straps hanging off their shoulders fell a long gold cape of tulle. It trailed as they walked, and Em glowed as they walked.

Deity.

It was breathtaking to watch (Y/N)’s work shine. Everyone just stared in awe as the golden magic of a dress passed by and returned backstage.

And then each model came out again, one after another, to end the show—angel, the fallen, Eve, shadows, Maze, demon, Deity. (Y/N) emerged at the back. Everyone was on their feet in an instant, clapping. Lucifer grinned proudly alongside the rest of (Y/N)’s family as they walked to the end of the runway with Em at their side.

They had on their usual outfit, but instead of black they had white. Their loose white pants had patches of red sewn on, and their red crop-top was over a white, translucent undershirt.

(Y/N) grinned at everyone and bowed. They looked at Lucifer, and a huge pressure lifted from their shoulders as they saw him smiling. He was proud. (Y/N) had done it. They had made something beautiful.

“So it was good?” said (Y/N) nervously.

“Of course it was!” said Marcel

“Everyone was entranced,” said Olive, grinning.

“No one could take their eyes off your designs,” said Leon.

“All your hard work paid off. The show was amazing,” said Noa.

“Let’s get a photo,” said Em. “We need to commemorate Birdie’s first show.” Handing their phone to another student, all the models gathered in around (Y/N). “Say ‘Holy!’ ”

(Y/N) almost glared, but as everyone cheered, they couldn’t help but laugh and grin.

Click!

A wonderful moment was captured.

“That was incredible!” Lucifer hugged (Y/N) tightly as they came out as their friends changed backstage. “You are so so so talented! I’m so proud.”

“Your work is beautiful, (Y/N),” said Chloe, smiling as (Y/N) was smooshed by Lucifer’s hug.

“Badass is more like it,” said Maze approvingly.

“I loved the black dress,” said Eve, smiling.

“Your inspiration was clear, but the way you made it was just…magnificent,” said Linda.

“It had a lot of love in it,” said Amenadiel.

“Thank you, everyone,” said (Y/N), smiling at everyone. “I’m very glad you liked it. I really worked hard.”

“It certainly paid off. It was pure art,” said Lucifer.

“…I got an offer because of it,” said (Y/N) quietly.

“What?” Lucifer looked at them.

“I—Some of the people here work in the fashion industry, and they gave me a card and told me to come and speak to them.” (Y/N) looked at Lucifer. “They weren’t any of your—”

“No favors here,” said Lucifer. “I have contacts in the industry, but this offer, this amazing skill you have, it’s all you.” Lucifer hugged them tightly as they smiled and teared up. The rest of their family watched happily. “I’m so proud of you, (Y/N).”

(Y/N) closed their eyes as happy tears fell down their cheeks. “Thank you. Thank you so much, Dad.”

“Getting a moment alone?” said Lucifer. He sat down next to (Y/N) on the terrace while the celebration of (Y/N)’s job/scholarship offer and their show continued inside the penthouse.

(Y/N) smiled and nodded. “Yeah. Just wanted to get some fresh air.” They looked up at the stars above them. They were quiet as they sat with their Dad.

“Is it going to change?” asked (Y/N).

“What?” said Lucifer.

“Everything. I’m…a deity. You can go to Heaven again. Your siblings are free to come and go from Earth. My friends and I are going to be doing Celestial things and university.” (Y/N) looked at Lucifer. “Everything is changing.”

“(Y/N), you and all your friends are Celestial,” said Lucifer. “You can come and go from places as you’d like. You’re never far from them or your family.” He smiled. “And especially not me. Never me.”

(Y/N) smiled and leaned on his shoulder. Lucifer hugged them.

“Thanks, Dad,” they said softly.

“You don’t need to thank me.” Lucifer smiled at them. “I’m your dad. I’m always going to be here for you. That will never change.”

“It’s weird to think that just a few years ago I was just some kid you found,” said (Y/N). “And now I went from an Adolescent Antichrist to Adolescent Deity.”

“And I went from Devil to Dad,” said Lucifer. He chuckled. “What a pair we are.”

(Y/N) smiled. “When do you think we became a pair? Father and child?”

Lucifer considered. “I don’t know. I think I knew you were important to me from the start. The labels…it just came naturally. But I knew I cared from the start.”

(Y/N) looked back up at the stars with a happy gleam in their eyes. “I think I knew it, too.”

“I love you, (Y/N),” said Lucifer. “Forever and always.”

(Y/N) closed their eyes as Lucifer held them tightly and kissed their forehead. They were home. They had their greatest desire—love. “I love you, too, Dad.”

And love would never change.

Taglist:

@sammyscreencaps-13

@grippleback-galaxy-galaxy

@scarlettqueen190

@ziro-the-null-god

@sammy-13

@zeros-rot

@ceridwyn3

@technikerin23

@poetoflawed

@slytherinroyalty16

@ilse235

@theurbannoodle

@lookitseddie

@amberforest08

@snowy-violet

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emihotaru · 5 months

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Mermay day 5: Muriel!

And yes, little spoiler, in "There are stars at the bottom of the sea", Muriel is TransMasc! 🏳️‍⚧️

He's 25, an accomplished sailor, and of course, he'll sew hi own flag in our story, like the rest of the crew in OFMD! (not this one, obviously, but one which represent his sweet personnality!)

We wanted to post this picture today, because the trans kids are in danger here, in France, right now, and there were a lot of trans rights march and assembllies in a lot of French cities, today.

🏳️‍⚧️ Trans rights are human rights, trans kids are precious. 🏳️‍⚧️

Take care of yourself

You can read the first chapter of our fic on Ao3!

#trans rights are human rights #muriel #good omens muriel #trans rights #mermay #mermay 2024 #good omens #good omens fanart #muriel fanart #there is stars at the bottom of the sea #good omens fanfic #good omens our flag means death cross over #aziracrow #ofmd

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ginnyw-potter · 4 months

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Spilt Blood

Word count: 41K

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Regency AU, Aranged/Forced Marriage, spouse to lovers

Updates weekly!

Ginny was raised by her great-aunt Lady Muriel so she could marry well. Ginny always thought she would get a choice but she ended up standing across from a man she had never met. During their wedding night she discovers the whipping scars caused by his cruel family. They are determined to void the agreement he had with his family. There is the need for an heir, and Harry's reluctance to make one. Ginny navigates this new life as she gets to know her husband. Regency AU

Chapter 1: Blood won't tell

(full chapter on AO3)

“Is he ready?” Lady Muriel asked with a quivering voice.

“He will be,” Mrs Dursley replied vaguely. Her eyes slid back to Ginny. “She looks ready. Is five minutes enough?”

“We better get on with it,” Muriel said. “I have a dinner to attend.”

Ginny’s stomach churned. Muriel was ready to leave her, and would not even travel with her to her new home. Her items had likely already been packed up since they had left, and delivered to the house.

The Dursleys stepped out again and her great-aunt turned back to her.

“If I may give you one piece of advice,” she snipped. “Don’t make it too hard on yourself. Obey your husband, and perhaps you can make something of your life. Resisting him will only make it worse, and would reflect poorly on me.” Her red-rimmed eyes were threatening. “Prove I’ve taught you something.”

#hinny #fic #regency AU #spilt blood #IT'S HERE Y'ALL

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amrenandthe · 3 months

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A snippet from chapter 1 of Heart Hunter where Muriel is cute and one of several points where you can tell Lucio to fuck off 😉 You can also suck his finger in this episode 🍵

Read it here! https://dorian.app.link/lRLKdkrw4Kb

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corneliaavenue-ao3 · 5 days

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Summer's a Knife (a graveyard fic)

Graveyard fics are fics that I started and will never return to. Some are vague outlines, some are 4 sentences, some are 40 pages. But if they haunt me, I want them to haunt you too.

I am actually sad that this became a graveyard fic. But I truly cannot write it anymore. I wanted to release this first chapter in May of 2022... you see how well that went for me.

This is the first summer after the war from Ginny's POV. It is sad, it is romantic, it deals with grief. It was going to have flashbacks to Ginny's sixth year. It was going to have 4 big chapters and a small epilogue, each chapter focusing on a month. It was going to be one of my favorite things I wrote. Unfortanetly, I don't feel that way anymore.

May (chapter title: so long daisy May) is the only complete (non-edited) chapter. I knew what I wanted to write in June (the best and worst day of June), no clue what July (I've been down since July) would bring, and an idea for August (August slipped away)

I even had a playlist made

Chapter 1 is below the cut because it is 10k words, and I am giving it all to you. After that I will explain the rest of the vibes of the fic with some snippets I wrote. Sorry this is a LONG POST.

You say that we'll just screw it up in these trying times. We're not trying.

If I bleed, you’ll be the last to know

So Long Daisy May

Ginny’s bloodstained trainers echoed on the cobblestone path to her Great Aunt’s house.

Once again, she was sent away for being too young. It wasn’t that long ago her parents were begging her to leave, to come back here for safety away from the final battle. Harry gave her a look that he didn’t want to see her either. She stayed of course. Fought in the war that was her fight as much as any other member of her family’s fight. Probably even more than most of them to be honest.

Now the war was over, she was sent away again. Her mum didn’t want Ginny to stay at Hogwarts any longer than necessary, wary of any lurking danger from Death Eaters still roaming the grounds. The Burrow was not safe yet. Her dad, Bill, and Charlie left soon after Voldemort fell to ensure that their home would be safe for them to come home. Molly Weasley could not bear to convince George to leave his twin’s side in the room of all the deceased. Ron was off somewhere once again, probably conjoined to Harry and Hermione’s sides, unbearable for them to separate.

That is how Ginny ends up with Percy of all brother’s returning to Great Aunt Muriel’s cold mansion that foggy, early morning.

Percy took a moment to knock on the front door. Ginny was planning to just walk inside, finding herself too tired to care about politeness and proper etiquette.

The front door swung open 30 seconds later, a small house elf stood in the entryway.

“Hey, Milsey. We were sent here to update Muriel and wait it out until the Burrow is safe,” Ginny said.

Milsey bowed down, “Of course, anything for Prewett blood.”

Ginny didn’t even try to hide her eye roll. She could practically hear Hermione in her ear ranting about House Elf Welfare.

“You don’t need to bow for us, Milsey,” Percy said. The first words he said aloud since their mum sent them here. Ginny did not know what to make of Percy anymore. He was the only brother who noticed anything was wrong with her during her first year at Hogwarts, and then he was the only one who checked up on her during her second year. Then he stopped caring about her. Ron told her that he got a letter from Percy telling him to stop being friends with Harry during his fifth year. She didn’t even get that. She could not understand how he could ignore his family for two years, and then come back begging for forgiveness.

Fred had forgiven him.

The thought of Fred made her entire insides clench. She wanted to vomit even though she had not had anything to eat in hours.

Percy walked through the front door, Ginny closely following.

“I am 109 years old, I just can’t have people showing up to my house unannounced at the crack of dawn. I have not even finished my tea yet this morning. Ginevra, your shoes are filthy. Take them off before you step on my Egyptian Rug, it is older than me and made from Sphynx fur,” Ginny’s aunt said in one breath.

Muriel stood in the doorway, wrapped in her silk nightgown, arms folded, looking very unpleased to see her niece and nephew. “And where is Molly? I need to speak with her about her inability to raise polite children who give warning when they are going to visit their aunt!”

Ginny felt Percy’s hand wrap around her bicep, warning her to not make a retort. “We will make sure we give you notice next time we visit, Auntie Muriel. Thank you for letting us pop in this morning,” Percy said, using his trademark pompous voice.

Muriel grunted, "I missed you Percy. You were always the most respectable Weasley. The Prewett blood runs strong in you."

Percy squeezed Ginny's arm again as a reminder to stay calm. Ginny turned and gave him a look that read something like I’m not a baby, get your annoying hands off of me. She wasn’t sure he quite got the message, but he removed his hand anyway.

“We are only here until dad gives us the all clear to go back home. I will clear out all of our things we left in your spare rooms. Your favorite Weasley can update you on what has happened in the last 24 hours.” Ginny turned, not even sparing a glance at Percy to see his reaction to the news that he would be the one updating the family about Fred’s death. She crossed over the sphinx rug and stormed up the stairs, making sure to leave dirty footprints with each step.

Her room was first. Her trunk sat in the middle of the floor, a few articles of clothing scattered across the floor, but mostly still packed. She didn’t want to admit it to her mum at the time, but she kept her trunk packed in case they needed to make another quick escape. Now, it seems so frivolous caring about her things when her family is now forever torn apart.

She quickly gathered her clothes strewn around and shoved them into her trunk. Levitating her trunk out the bedroom door and into the hallway.

The Ministry of Magic has more to worry about at the moment than some underage magic.

Her parent’s room was next. Unlike Ginny, they did not have their trunks already packed from school, so they did not bring much from the Burrow. Ginny noticed this on her third day at her aunt’s house when her mum had not changed robes. Looking around the room, Ginny gathered what little items were there and put them into her own trunk.

The twin’s room was last.

Ginny took a deep breath, bracing herself before pushing the door open slowly. Unsurprisingly, the room was a mess. Weasley Wizard Wheezes products piled in boxes on the floor and stacked on top of the bed. Mail in orders haphazardly organized in some system that only made sense to George. In the corner was Fred’s belongings frozen in time, never to be touched by him again.

Flashbacks to the Great Hall flooded her brain.

The smell of burning smoke clogged her nose. Seamus guided her back inside from the courtyard into the entryway of the Great Hall. Everything was too quiet. The emeralds littered on the floor cracked under her step, echoing against the stone walls. Suddenly Bill was there, pulling her from Seamus into his arms. He was crying. Why was he crying? He led her to the middle of the Great Hall where her family was huddled together. She counted the amount of heads, realizing two were missing. Slowly she approached her mum, who was kneeling on the ground in front of - NO.

Ginny stumbled, tripping over a box of sparklers on the ground. Her knees crashed into the footboard of the bed. A spare sparkler fizzled on the ground then ignited the entire box. An impressive explosion lit up the entire room, burning an imprint on the ceiling. Smoke filled her lungs. Spluttering, Ginny sunk to the ground, trying to catch her breath.

Breathe in. Breathe out. In and out. Quicker. Faster.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

She felt herself start to hyperventilate. Her throat clogged up, unable to suck in deep enough breath to fill her lungs with oxygen. Tears blurred her vision. Pressure built in her head, she felt like she was submerged underwater. Unable to catch her breath. Drowning in her tears.

Arms wrapped around her, pulling her close. For a second, she thought she was with Bill back in the Great Hall again before realizing that was not the brother holding her.

“It’s alright, Ginny,” Percy soothed her.

Sobs wracked her body. She was exhausted. She could not keep them in any longer. Tucking her head into Percy’s chest, Ginny cried for her brother. She would never hear Fred tell another joke or have a late night race on the brooms. Her whole body ached. Several hours after his death, she finally felt the magnitude of the loss of Fred.

Percy scratched her back, lightly tracing his fingertips down her spine, soothing her. Just like he had the time she broke down during their trip to Egypt. Slowly, oxygen inflated her lungs and her sobs lessened. Her breath slowed back to a stable rate.

"Thanks, Perce," Ginny said when she finally trusted her own voice.

"Don't mention it," he shrugged. "How about you get some rest, I will clean up the rest of this room."

Ginny was too tired to protest. Pulling herself to stand, Ginny nodded at Percy before slowly making her way back to her guest bedroom. She didn't even bother changing into fresh clothes before crawling into bed. Curled into a ball, she pulled the covers tightly around her.

Her thoughts drifted to the same person she dreamt about for the entire year before the blackness wrapped around her, pulling her into a deep sleep.

Hours too soon she was gently shook awake. Groggy eyes opened to her father smiling down at her. He aged so much within the last year. What red was once in his hair has turned primarily gray, fresh wrinkles were etched into his face. Ginny flung her arms around his neck.

“It’s safe to go home now.”

“Where’s Percy?” Ginny asked, hating how childish her voice sounded.

Her dad stroked her hair, “Already home. Let’s join him.”

Her dad grabbed the trunk on the ground and Ginny’s hand, side-apparating her to the Burrow. Teaching the sixth years how to apparate was not a priority this past year. Just another flaw in her education from the last 9 months. Her landing was not soft. Stumbling a few steps, Ginny stood at the top of the hill, just inside the ward line.

“Everyone else is inside,” her dad said.

Stumbling over herself, Ginny ran down the hill to her home. At first glance, the Burrow looked the same as the day she left it. But as she got closer to the front door, she noticed more things amiss. The treeline looked different like a few branches were knocked away. The grass was scorched yellow like someone burned it. Windows were cracked or blasted open with missing shards of glass.

The front door groaned open with her push. Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat together, heads bent down, all snapped up at the sound of her entering the kitchen.

“Ginny!” Hermione smiled, standing to embrace her in a hug.

Ginny squeezed her friend back. She didn’t get to appreciate seeing the three of them at Hogwarts. Hermione was much thinner than the last time she saw her. They all were.

Ron embraced her next, giving her a pat on the back. She let go and looked over at the end of the table where Harry now stood.

“Hi,” Harry said.

He looked good. Thin like the other two, but still handsome. He had somehow gotten taller over the last year, his hair long, messier than she had ever seen it. The dark rings around his eyes and his hollow cheeks emphasized his green eyes. Staring at her the same way he had a year ago, like he was staring into a brilliant light.

Her heart skipped a beat.

But in the next heartbeat, they were crossing the room to one another. His arms wrapped tightly around her shoulders, hers around his waist. Pulling each other close. She pressed her ear against his chest.

He's alive, heart is beating, lungs are expanding with each breath.

Alive. Alive. Alive. Alive.

The stairs creaked, alerting them to the presence of another Weasley member. Ginny pulled back from Harry just slightly, not completely breaking contact, as George entered the room. Slowly, he crossed the room, giving Ginny a quick pat on the head before leaving out the back door. Reality sunk back in as she watched the back of George’s head.

Fred's dead.

Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead.

She felt her throat start to clog again. The unbearable feeling of loss started to overwhelm her. Slowly, she pulled away from Harry. She could not lose it again, especially not in front of the others who went through so much more than she had. Ron also lost Fred, and he wasn’t breaking down at the sight of George.

And George, who would see Fred’s face whenever he looked in the mirror, did not deserve Ginny breaking down by looking at him. It made her feel like an awful person for almost losing it. No one needed the stress of taking care of her while they too were struggling.

“He hasn’t said anything,” Ron said, filling the silence. Ginny realized her eyes had not left the back door George exited. “Charlie went back to Hogwarts to convince him to leave. He got back maybe 20 minutes before you did.”

Ginny wouldn’t know what to say either when everyone looked at you like they were seeing a ghost.

“Where’s everyone else?” Ginny asked.

Ron nodded to the back door. “Bill and Fleur are out back. They checked the house for curses, but haven’t finished the rest of the property.” He pointed to the stairs next. “Mum’s up in her room. I imagine now that dad is back, she will spend the rest of the day in the kitchen. She shares her love through food, you know. And I think she has a lot of love she will want to share.”

Ron’s prediction that Molly Weasley would cook a feast for dinner was not far off. A few hours later, everyone was crammed at the table, along with enough food to feed them for days. Harry sat next to her with a plate stacked full. Throughout their meal, they exchanged casual brushes and quick glances.

“What are Kingsley’s plans with the Ministry?” Harry asked her dad as he passed the salad bowl to her.

“There is a lot to figure out. The Ministry was corrupted, that is no secret.” Percy kept his head down, avoiding the gaze of his father. Arthur took a bite of his chicken before continuing, “It is fair to assume there will be trials, but those probably won’t occur until later this summer. First, the physical damages of the war need to be fixed before the government can fix itself. Kingsley is working with Gawain to assess the damage first.”

“Do we know how many people lost their lives?” Bill asked.

Arthur shook his head. “It is unclear. There are still those unaccounted for in addition to those in critical care at Saint Mungos. But right now the number is at 43, not including Death Eaters.”

The clattering of silverware halted. Silence overcame the table as the magnitude of the battle overcame them.

“Excuse me,” Harry stood, tossing his fork on his half finished plate of food. He crossed the kitchen and made his way up the stairs, not bothering to look back at any of them.

Ron silently stood too, following Harry up. Hermione paused, eyes following Ron, but she stayed in her seat. “He will be fine,” Hermione reassured the table, not making eye contact with any direct member of the Weasley family as she spoke.

The table remained awkwardly quiet for the rest of the meal. Fleur spoke of Shell Cottage to fill the silence. Ginny excused herself to her room as soon as she felt appropriate to leave.

“I will be right back,” Hermione said as she passed Ginny’s bedroom door later that evening, two plates of food balanced on her arm.

Ginny nodded and continued to get ready for bed. By the time Hermione returned, Ginny had already tucked herself into bed, facing the wall. Hermione silently dressed for bed. “Goodnight, Ginny.”

Her circadian clock was off. Even though her entire body felt exhausted, Ginny lay awake staring up at the cracked ceiling of her own bedroom for hours. Sleeping at Muriel’s threw her off. In other circumstances, she would have taken this opportunity for a night flight. But she didn't feel safe flying alone tonight. Her mum would also be worried sick if she found out Ginny went out alone unsupervised in the middle of the night. Ginny did not need to be an added reason for her mother's stress right now.

So instead she shifted in her bed, trying to drift off to sleep. Counting Hermione's rhythmic breaths as she slept on the cot next to her bed.

One.

Two.

In.

Out.

Ginny tried to prevent her thoughts from drifting to anything depressing. No Fred, no Hogwarts, not even her childhood home. So instead she tried to make her mind go blank, to think of absolutely nothing besides the sound of Hermione’s breath.

Her counts of Hermione’s breaths quickened. “No, please no!”

“Hermione?” Ginny leaned over the edge to peer down at her friend. Her face was twisted in distress. The faded quilt was thrown off her body as she tossed and turned in her sleep. “It’s fake! Please stop!” a blood curdling, terrible scream escaped Hermione’s lips.

Hermione bolted straight up, eyes widened in fear, her hand reached for her right forearm. Ginny crawled out of her bed, squeezing next to Hermione on the cot. Tentatively, she reached out, stroking her back.

Hermione flinched away from her touch before finally relaxing. She tugged the sleeves of her jumper down her arms and pulled her knees into her chest. Ginny continued to try to provide comfort to her friend.

After a few minutes of silence, Hermione finally looked at her. “Sorry.”

Wrapping Hermione into an embrace, Ginny whispered, “You have no need to apologize. I wasn’t even asleep.”

Hermione hummed. “Bellatrix, well…” she trailed off, staring out the bedroom window. The quarter moon provided minimal light in Ginny’s bedroom, so Ginny could hardly make out the look on Hermione’s face. “Nevermind,” Hermione finished, pushing herself away from Ginny, standing. “I’m going to go sleep upstairs, so you can get some rest. Goodnight Ginny.”

She grabbed her wand and bolted out the door, leaving Ginny all alone.

Ginny sighed and crawled back into her own bed. She punched her lumpy pillow, trying to find a comfortable enough position to drift off to sleep. With Hermione gone, she lost her distraction from letting her mind run wild. Now, thoughts of Bellatrix infiltrated her head.

Chaos reigned. Flashes of lights of every color surrounded her. She fired off spells at any person still cowardly enough to hide their face behind a mask. Harry was dead, but Tom had not won. She would make sure of it. Ginny caught sight of her wild mane of black hair before she saw her face. Firing off a cascade of curses, each aimed for Tom’s right-hand woman, each somehow deflected with ease. Bellatrix gave her a wicked smile, and for a moment Ginny wondered if Bellatrix knew exactly who she was and why she was so distraught. Hermione and Luna joined her side to fight Bellatrix. A streak of green passed her head, and for a moment, Ginny thought she would finally be at peace.

All good judgment she made hours prior about not flying tonight was out the window. She needed out.

Shoving her feet in her trainers and grabbing a jumper to combat the cool May evening air, Ginny quickly slipped out of her bedroom. Taking the stairs two at a time, pushing open the backdoor, and sprinting the moment she stepped out into the night.

With no one to tend to it in over a month and Death Eaters to trample it to the ground, the orchard was a disaster. Apples littered the ground, the sweet fruit squashed underfoot. The burnt grass damp with dew.

The broom closet smelled musty. Thankfully, it appeared untouched. Ginny grabbed an old Cleansweep, swinging one leg over the handle in a fluid motion. Her feet firmly placed on the ground, inhaling the cold air, she pushed off into the dark sky.

The common phrase “It’s like riding a broom,” never fit so eloquently. Months away from the sky, and it is almost like she had never left. She pressed her chest closer to the handle to center her gravity, and she was soaring. Past the treeline and the top of her home, she flew lazy laps. Circling the property, spiraling in the open air.

Her lungs expanded with cold air, her heart kicked faster with adrenaline, and her mind forgot old haunts. She felt invincible. She felt alive.

Slowly, she looped closer to the ground.

She noticed his dark hair first.

Once she flew within earshot, Harry started to speak. “Imagine my surprise to be awoken in the middle of the night to the sound of your brother snogging.”

For the first time in days, Ginny smiled "I hope it wasn't with the picture of Aunt Muriel he keeps stashed under his pillow.”

A laugh escaped Harry’s lips. It was one of the most joyous sounds Ginny ever heard. "I think he finally has reason to dispose of that picture."

“Oh?” Ginny questioned, the tips of her toes grazing the grass as she hovered closer to him.

The corner of Harry’s mouth quirked up, “Your brother is snogging Hermione Granger.”

“When did that happen? Oh, you haven’t been stuck third wheeling them this entire time have you?” Ginny asked, sympathetically patting Harry’s arm.

Harry looked down at where Ginny was touching him, slowly moving his other hand up to give her fingers a gentle squeeze. Ginny sucked in a breath.

He shook his head, letting go of her hand, “They didn’t snog until yesterday.”

“But yesterday was the ba-”

“Exactly,” Harry said, interrupting her. “How long have you been out here?”

"I couldn’t sleep, and Hermione had a nightmare,” she said, shaking her head. “It was Bellatrix. That's all that I know."

A dark look crossed Harry’s features. "I can only imagine."

Ginny did not push further. It wasn't Harry’s secret to tell, nor was it her's to know.

Instead, she slid off the Cleansweep and took a seat next to him. Enough space to not touch, but enough to feel the electricity between them. The hairs on her arm stood straight up. All day, tension wrung between them. Each touch sparked every nerve in her body. For months, she dreamt about what she would do when she saw him again, and now she was too overwhelmed to act.

They sat in the silence, staring up at the stars. As each second ticked by, she became more and more unsure how to express how much she missed him. Harry shifted beside her, and Ginny braved a glance to peek over at him only to find his bright, green eyes focused on her.

He hesitated for only a moment before his signature look of determination swept across his features. A look found right before doing something brave and stupid.

And then he kissed her.

If Ginny thought it was easy to return to flying after time away, nothing compared to kissing Harry. The feel of his mouth slanted against hers felt like coming home. Nothing was more natural. An instinct. Just like the instinct of Harry’s hands to wind in her hair and hers to press against his chest.

No words were said aloud, but so much was shared within one kiss. They were always good at having silent conversations. A single look. A single touch. So many emotions and thoughts expressed between them in those moments.

His hands in her hair. I missed you.

Her hands wrapped around his waist. Please don’t go again.

Their lips pressed together. I need you.

Eventually they broke apart after what could have been several days. Ginny always lost track of time when Harry kissed her. Pulling away, Ginny let out an uncharacteristic giggle, relishing in the warmth of an alive Harry.

She shifted her weight, leaning against his side. Her head rest on his shoulder. His arms snaked around her waist. Slot against one another like no time had passed since those days spent by the lake.

That is where they stayed until daylight broke over the horizon.

Days were quiet. Planning funerals drained livelihood out of the Burrow. Ginny found herself helping where she could. Her mum was constantly cooking in the kitchen, so Ginny would help clean. She didn’t speak, she kept her thoughts to herself. When Harry was in the room, they moved like they were dancing. Never touching.

Nights were loud. Hermione would leave her room after everyone officially went to bed to join Ron in his. That was when Ginny would sneak out to fly. Harry would join her minutes later, some joke on his lips about Ron and Hermione and how he wished maybe they went back to fighting. Then they would fly together or sit and talk. Eventually, they would fall asleep under the stars pressed into each other's arms, waking just at the crack of dawn to sneak back into their respective bedrooms.

One bright morning, Ginny followed the scent of fresh breads and sweet sugar down to the kitchen. Her mum hunched over the oven, a faded floral apron tied loosely around her waist. Ginny would not be surprised if she barely missed her mum waking up to slave away in the kitchen right as her and Harry were sneaking back into their beds.

“Morning, mum,” Ginny said, giving her mum a squeeze around the waist.

“Good morning, dear,” her mum replied, leaning into her hug. “I would like you and Charlie to run some errands for me today.”

“Sure,” Ginny said, stealing a pastry from the counter. “What do you need?” She asked, mouth full of scone.

Her mum turned back to the oven to pull out a fresh pie. “I would love it if you could run some of these breads to some families for me. The Browns, the Deacons, and the Rivers. I believe Deacon’s daughter was in your year. Sophie was it?”

The scone in her mouth went stale. Bile rose, burning her throat on the way up. Ginny grabbed a napkin off the counter and spit out the mushed up pastry. “Yeah, Sophie,” Ginny’s voice wavered. She cleared the acid from her throat, pushing the sound of late night giggles about Hogwarts gossip out from her head. “I can do that for you. Where’s Charlie?”

After wrangling her second eldest brother from the yard, the pair apparated, Ginny tightly wrapping her hand around Charlie's arm, to the home of Ron’s ex girlfriend.

Ever the introvert, Charlie left her to do all the talking and condolences.

After giving her final sorrows to the Brown Family, Charlie grabbed her arm and apparated them to the small Wizarding village the Deacon’s lived.

Ginny stumbles forward as her feet crashed into the stepping stones of her dead dormmates home. Steadying herself, Ginny wondered if she would ever get used to apparition. Flying makes sense. Apparating does not.

Grabbing her brother’s arm, she turned him to face her, “Listen, let me do this house alone, yeah?”

Charlie gave her a look, questioning her judgment. “You know you aren’t of age and mum would slit my throat.”

“Please. She was my friend.”

Something in her eyes must have given enough reasoning to Charlie to let her go alone. “I will wait over at the shop across the street. Meet me there when you’re done.”

Ginny pulled him into a hug, wrapping her arms around his thick waist. Charlie was the closest of her siblings to her own height, so she could rest her chin on his shoulder during the embrace. “I won’t be too long.”

She turned away from her brother, the pie her mother gave her rest carefully on her arm. Steadying herself with a shaky breath, she knocked.

A moment passed. And then another. Ginny held her breath as she waited. Maybe she would not have to face them. Maybe she could set the pie down on the step and turn her back and run away from the grief inside the home. But before Ginny could follow her intrusive thoughts, the door opened to a beautiful woman with short auburn hair and laugh lines carved into her face even though she looked as though she had not had a reason to laugh in a long time.

“Hello, my name is Ginn-”

“Ginny come in,” Sophie’s mum invited her in, opening the door wider for Ginny to slip inside.

She shouldn’t be surprised that Mrs. Deacon knew who she was, a classmate of her daughters, a Weasley, a blood traitor whose family housed The Boy Who Lived for years. Ginny did not want to know what the exact reason was that Mrs. Deacon recognized her.

“My mum made this for you,” Ginny said, offering the baked pie that would never fill the Sophie-sized hole in her heart.

“Thank you, that is very sweet of her and sweet of you to drop it off.”

Sophie’s mum took the pie and set it on the kitchen counter filled with other condolence foods. Ginny felt nauseous at the sight.

Ginny sat on the gray loveseat and turned away from the sight and took in the room around her. Light cascaded in and reflected off of the framed photos on the cream wall to brighten the room. Photos of Sophie and her little brother, Samuel, were everywhere. Together with a woman, who must have been their grandmother, standing in Diagon Alley. Sophie singing in the frog choir with her hair tucked back in her signature butterfly clips. Sam tugging on a much younger Sophie’s hair and running away. All moments forever to cycle on repeat, but to never be updated again.

The bile that she swallowed that morning began to rise again.

“Would you like something to drink, dear?” Mrs. Deacon asked, pulling Ginny out of her reverie.

“No, thank you,” Ginny replied, even though she could probably use a glass of water or a shot of firewhiskey.

A grunt from the door leading to the hallway alerted Ginny of Mr. Deacon’s presence. He was a tall man, not as tall as her own father, but much wider. He worked for the Ministry’s Portkey Office. Sophie often boasted about all the places her father traveled for work, and Ginny could see it. A man like him did not belong behind a desk.

“Elric, this is Ginny. She is,” Mrs. Deacon paused, “She was one of Sophie’s classmates.”

Ginny stood to her feet, “Mr. Deacon, I am so sorry for your loss.”

Mr. Deacon waved his hand, his other rubbing his sternum like he too struggled with gastric reflux at the reminder of Sophie.

“I too am sorry for yours. I heard you lost a brother.”

The grief of losing Fred washed over her again like a wave that quickly retreated into a cool, cold nothing. “Yes, I did. Thank you.” Ginny sat back down on the couch. The Deacons sat across from her, gripping each other’s hands.

Silence swept over the room like a cloak. Thick, warm, and suffocating.

Ginny broke the silence first.

“Sophie was-,” Ginny paused, clearing her throat, “she was a beautiful soul. Her voice lit up the dorm room. She would sing under her breath and she studied and then belt songs in the shower. She was wicked at potions and brilliant at Gobstones. She was one of my best friends, and I am so sorry for your loss.”

The all too familiar prickling sensation behind her eyes grew. Rapidly blinking, trying to keep the tears at bay, because she had so much more to say. So she pressed on. “I was there,” Ginny said, looking up to meet Mrs. Deacon’s eye.

The scent of smoke encroached her olfactory system. The feel of Sophie’s manicured hand in her own haunted her skin.

Ginny ignored the memories and pressed on. “When You-Know-Who asked for a pause, I went out to the ground to help.” The words recover bodies left unsaid. “I saw her lying there. She was alive, and she was asking for you. She loved you so much.” The tears building in her eyes escaped, rolling steadily down her cheeks.

"They told us her body was recovered during The Silent Hour, but never by who," Mr. Deacon said, tears brimming his eyes. “Thank you, Ginny.”

The guilt bubbling in her gut was interrupted by footsteps bounding down the steps. Little, 12-year old, Samuel Deacon slid into the room.

“Ginny!” Samuel shouted, eyes filled with joy as though he were seeing a hero. And to him he probably was. She had not seen him in months. Thankfully, Samuel was long gone from Hogwarts during the battle, but the last time she saw him was forever ingrained in her brain. The memory seeped through her pores.

“Pain does not last forever,” Amycus Carrow said to a room full of scared students. “But the memory of it does.” He sauntered across the front of the entrance hall, each step deliberate to draw out the dramatics of what he was saying. Ginny guessed he got this schtick from Tom. “Which is why it makes such an excellent punishment. You remember the pain, so maybe next time you won’t misbehave.” He turned to face her, smiling like a Grindylow ready to to entangle their prey within their long fingers.

“Now can someone please tell me which illiterate idiot graffitied the walls?” Amycus’s voice echoes through the hall. Dozens of eyes stayed focused on the floor. “Was it you?” A finger pointing at a short Hufflepuff boy standing over in the corner. His eyes widened at being called out for a crime he never committed.

“No,” the boy stuttered.

“I don’t believe you,” Amycus sneered, clenching the collar of his cloak, dragging him out into the open. “What’s your name, boy?”

“Sa-Samuel,” the young boy managed to stutter out.

“Well, Sa-Samuel, I hope you remember to never misbehave again.” With those words, Amycus lifted his wand.

Quickly shoving her hand into her bag, fumbling around searching for the jar of paint stashed at the bottom. Her fingers found the cool glass and she yanked it out and threw it at Amycus’s feet.

He turned to meet her, and grinned. The Grindylow caught his prey. “I see I found the illiterate idiot.” He turned his wand to her face, “Crucio.”

“Sam, it is good to see you,” Ginny asked, voice overly pleasant.

To Ginny’s horror, Mrs. Deacon said, “Samuel has told me a lot about you.” She smiled too warmly at her. Like she wasn’t the reason Sam was not almost cursed in the first place. Like she wasn’t the last one to see her daughter alive. Like she deserved forgiveness.

Ginny’s stomach turned and threatened to spill out on their carpet. She needed to leave.

“Thank you so much for your hospitality. I do need to get going.”

Both of the Deacon’s stood immediately.

“Of course,” Mrs. Deacon said.

“Let me walk you out,” Mr. Deacon said.

So Ginny let herself be ushered out. She kept her mouth clamped shut. Afraid to vomit out words along with her guts.

As she reached the door, Mr. Deacon stopped her, “Sophie’s funeral is set on the thirteenth. We would love it if you could make it.”

Ginny couldn’t trust her words, so she nodded in agreement, and burst out the front door. As soon as the door closed, she broke out into a sprint, down to the corner shop where Charlie should be waiting for her.

He was leaning against the side wall, lazily smoking a cigarette.

"Take me home." Ginny said, walking past Charlie.

"But we have one more-"

"Take me home."

Charlie paused before grabbing her arm and spinning on his heel. They arrived in front of the Burrow a second later. Ginny sprinted to the broom shed. Grabbing the closest broom, not even checking whose it belongs to, Ginny kicked off of the ground.

She lapped the Burrow several times, streaking by as fast as the broom allowed her. Up in the air, she could blame her tears on the wind in her eyes instead of the guilt she felt in her heart.

That night, she did not fly.

Hermione snuck out of the room, but Ginny stayed in her bed. Waiting. A soft knock on the door alerted her of his presence. Her bed shifted from his added weight.

They avoided each other that day. Well really, Ginny avoided him and everyone else. Hiding in the sky, and when she was called inside by her mum, she hid in the kitchen. Charlie did not say anything to her, which was a blessing. Her mum did comment on the extra pie brought up, but a quick lie that the Rivers were not home avoided anymore questions.

Harry’s arms snuck around her waist, pulling her against his chest. She tucked herself under his chin as he pressed his nose into her hair. Her hair was still damp from the shower she took earlier that evening, but she knew Harry would not care. In fact, he probably preferred it. The scent of her shampoo freshly washed into her hair. It calmed him.

She wondered if he was struggling with what was going to happen tomorrow as much as she knew she would.

But she did not ask.

Slowly, his breaths evened as he fell asleep behind her. And Ginny fell shortly after.

All mornings have been quiet since the battle at the Burrow. But none compared to this one. Outside, the morning fog was thick and suffocating. Inside, so was the silence.

Weasley family members dressed in black to bury their loudest family member.

When it was time, her father led the family to the grave. Walking in a line to the apparition line on the edge of the Burrow property, and one-by-one apparating to Fred’s final destination. Ginny stood and watched as her loved ones disappeared with a pop. Her dad stood by her side and lifted his arm.

“Ready?”

No.

“Yes,” she said, gripping his arm.

The graveyard was busier than she expected. Her family is large, but so was Fred’s impact.

Old classmates of his, old teammates, old co-workers lined the chairs in the back. Professor McGonagall could be seen from her tall witch’s hat. Hagrid stood off to the side, already loudly sobbing. Ginny felt her tears join his.

She made her way to the front and sat in her seat nestled between Ron and George. The same small wizard that preached at Dumbledore’s funeral and Bill’s wedding stood in the front. A twisted thought crossed her mind about how busy that man is during this week.

And he talked in platitudes. He talked about his sacrifice, how he was a light in the family. But never really about Fred. Ginny wished she had taken the time to write something, then maybe Fred would have gotten the send off he deserved.

George gripped her hand near the end of the small wizard’s speech. “Are you ready to see some magic?”

Ginny grinned, a warmth spreading across her chest. “Always.”

George grinned back at her, reaching into his pocket, pulling out his wand. With a small flick of his wrist. A bang behind the gravestones went off.

Gasps wrang out from behind her. Aunt Muriel gave out a shriek of terror, as fireworks lit up the foggy sky.

Sparks flew above her, spelling out the initials F.W. And for the first time all week, Ginny was crying, but she was not upset by it.

After the funeral, the mood was much brighter, the fog outside lifted with the smoke of the fireworks, and Ginny could feel like she could breathe again.

Slowly, the crowd began to thin. Angelina grabbed George’s arm and loudly declared that they were going to the Leaky to celebrate Fred’s life and a group followed her. Bill, Charlie, and Fleur followed shortly after them. After a moment of contemplation, Percy followed suit.

Her mother gave her a kiss on the cheek before heading further into the graveyard to where her brothers lay. Her father followed a few steps behind her.

Ron and Hermione were still sitting in their seats. Their chairs were now pushed impossibly close together as Hermione almost sat on Ron’s lap with her head tucked against his chest, and Ron’s face pressed into her hair. Masking the tears that he was shedding.

Ginny steadily made her way up to Fred’s grave. Ash sprinkled the grass from the firework show. She lowered herself to the ground, sitting to the right of the gravestone.

“Hey, Forge,” Ginny murmured, closing her eyes and resting her head on the stone. “Miss you.”

Ginny slowly descended down the stairs, unsure exactly which one would creak under her step. She wasn’t sure who would be worse to alert of her late night excursion: her mother or her great aunt.

All she wanted to do was see them and not just take Bill’s word for it that they were safe. Luna. Dean. Hermione. Ron. And of course Harry. Mum nearly locked her in her bedroom when Ginny asked to go to Shell Cottage.

So now she was sneaking to the fireplace in the middle of the night to floo her way over to Shell Cottage. A task significantly less dangerous than any of the times she snuck out in the middle of the night this last year.

The third from the bottom step let out a loud groan.

“Shit.”

“Going somewhere?” A voice from the top of the stairs called down to her. Thankfully, it was the person who would most likely go with her on this adventure.

“I thought getting some nice fresh, saltwater air would be nice at this time of night. Want to come along?” Ginny asked, nodding her head to the living room.

Fred quickly descended the stairs, uncaring if he woke the entire house along the way.

"Is that the plan then? Run off to Shell Cottage without letting anyone know where you're going?"

"You know."

"I know because I caught you sneaking out," Fred retorted. "And when mum and dad wake in the morning and find your bed empty? What will you do after they chain you to your bed?"

Ginny rolled her eyes, "They won't tie me to the bed."

"No, probably not, but you won't be let out of their sight. And when the time comes when it is important for you to sneak out, you won't be able to."

"What do you mean?" Ginny asked, hating that she didn't understand.

"I'm saying, wait. Wait until something big. I will go with you then. Not when you're sneaking out to see your boyfriend."

"Ex-boyfriend."

"I didn't realize you were sneaking off to see Thomas. Don't let me stop you then," Fred teased.

"Oh, shove off," Ginny said, pushing his shoulder.

Heavy footsteps pulled her from her thoughts. Harry stood above her, head of messy hair blocking the sun. He held his hand out, an offer to help her up.

She took it, pulling herself up and into his arms in one fluid motion. He enveloped her in a hug, holding her tight against his chest. Ginny breathed in the scent of him. Woodsy and cool, like the morning air in the autumn.

Reluctantly, she detangled herself from him, keeping her hand intertwined in his. There they stood, hand in hand, staring down at Fred Weasley’s grave.

Fred Weasley

1/4/1978 - 2/5/1998

Mischief

Harry gave her fingers a squeeze before letting go. He bent down in front of Fred’s grave. He paused for a second, before pulling out his wand, waving it carefully. A bouquet of daisies appeared in the dirt. Fresh and white. Harry stood, reaching back for her hand, but refusing to look at her.

“Hermione and I went to my parent’s graves on Christmas. She did this,” Harry said, waving his hands at the flowers on the ground, “I thought Fred deserved some too.” He bent down and picked one from the ground, “Daisies mean new beginnings.”

He shifted his weight, "or at least that's what Hermione told me when she showed me how to do the spell."

Ginny’s gut twisted into a knot. "They're beautiful," was all she could muster out. She wasn't sure she wanted a new beginning. She wanted to start all over.

"For you," Harry said, handing her a single flower.

Ginny smiled and accepted the pity flower. Harry didn't believe in the pity flowers either, but it was thoughtful, so Ginny tucked it into her pocket.

When she got home later that night, she tossed it into her windowsill. With hope that maybe the rest of the summer improved from the beginning.

The next several days were spent in mourning. Traveling from funeral to funeral.

Colin’s funeral was hard because she spent 30 minutes before leaving being coached by Hermione on the intricacies of a muggle funeral. Obviously, no fireworks like Fred’s nor an ablaze casket like at Dumbledore’s. But instead a metal contraption that would slowly lower his wooden casket into the ground.

She sat near front on the side with Neville and Seamus on either side of her. Harry with Ron and Hermione in the back, trying to keep attention off of them as much as possible.

Ginny grieved for her friend. Her Herbology partner. The person who never tired answering her questions about the Muggle World. The same sinking feeling that ebbed and flowed in her since the battle came back. She was the reason why he lost half of his first year lying petrified in the hospital wing. Tom was the reason he lost the rest of his life.

Tonks and Remus’s funerals were next. Members of the Order carried both caskets. Kingsley had tears streaming down his face with Tonks’ casket on his shoulders. Her dad looked more tired than usual under the weight of Remus’s casket.

Only one other gravestone stood in the ground on the plot of land. Tonks’ final resting place lay next to the empty grave of her father whose body was never recovered.

In the last row sat Andromeda cradling a young Teddy Lupin. Remus showed her a picture of young Teddy when he visited the Weasley’s at Muriel’s place. Then, his hair was a bright orange. Now, it lacked any sign of vibrance, instead he wore Remus’s signature sandy hair.

Next to Andromeda sat Narcissa, poised, dressed head to toe in expensive black robes. Looking every bit out of place Ginny is sure she felt.

Harry did a double-take after he noticed her next to his godson. Ginny reached forward and laced her fingers with his, offering a squeeze of comfort. On the other side of Harry, Ron pulled Hermione closer to his body.

Instead of the small wizard, Kingsley stood in front of the graves and gave a speech about hope and love and loss. A personal story about Tonks catching a death eater by tripping on top of him was interrupted by wails coming from the back row.

Little Teddy’s uncontrollable sobs echoed in the cemetery. Andromeda tried shushing him to no avail. Narcissa stood, offering a hand, a moment passed before Andromeda passed over her grandson to her sister. Narcissa carried Teddy further away from the funeral and whispers of the guests.

“She has no right,” hissed Ron.

“It’s fine,” Harry replied, his leg bouncing, looking everything but fine.

Kingsley continued on with Teddy’s sobs quieted by distance. Ron kept anxiously looking over his shoulder back at Narcissa while Hermione stared straight forward. Harry leaned forward in his seat, releasing his grip on her hand.

Ginny, for her part, kept listening to Kingsley and silently wondered if she would ever fully understand what happened with those three last year.

The funeral ended with Kingsley and Gawain Robards casting golden sparks at the pair of caskets before they slowly descended into the ground.

Gradually, the crowd began to thin out. Narcissa carefully returned to her sister’s side off in the back, swaying back and forth, cradling a sleepy Teddy in her arms.

Harry stood and started to make his way back towards where his Godson was.

“Mr. Potter. May I have a word?” Gawain Robards asked.

Harry froze momentarily, and Ginny wondered if he was going to tell the Head Auror to fuck right off before he calmly nodded. Robards stuck out his hand, leading Harry away from the crowds, in the opposite direction of Narcissa Malfoy.

Ginny stood frozen next to Ron and Hermione, both just as conflicted as she felt on whether they should eavesdrop on Robards and Harry’s conversation or confront Mrs. Malfoy.

Her mum approached the Black sisters. Ginny snuck over to the back, Ron and Hermione following her closely, ready to witness whatever drama could unfold between Molly Weasley and Narcissa Malfoy. But instead of sharp words or curses shot from wands, her mum swept both Andy and Narcissa into a warm embrace

“I am so sorry about your sister,” Mum said, pulling away from the Black sisters.

Narcissa placed a hand on her mum’s arm, “We do anything to protect our children.” She gave Andromeda a curt nod and took a slender finger to brush Teddy’s cheek. “I won’t intrude any longer than I meant to. It was good to see you, Andy.”

With a pop, Narcissa disappeared.

Harry stormed by a few seconds later, Robards still standing where Harry left him, hand rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“Harry?” Hermione’s voice questioned.

“Later,” Harry shortly replied before apparating off, not even sparing Ginny a second glance.

Hermione sighed, turning to Ron. “Ready?” Ron gripped her hand and then both disappeared with another pop.

“Wanker,” Ginny muttered under her breath, “You were supposed to apparate me home.”

Kicking a rock on the ground, Ginny begrudgingly walked back to where her mother was now rocking Teddy.

On the thirteenth, Ginny dressed once again in black. Hermione and her traded their black robes so they were not wearing the exact same outfit to every funeral they attended. By the fourth day of funerals, Fleur was offering her wardrobe to them as well, altering her clothes to fit their bodies.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione attended every funeral, each of them feeling like they owed it to the witch or wizard who lost their life. Just yesterday, they attended the funeral of a Slytherin fifth year girl that none of them had even met. Ginny joined them most days. Harry side-along apparating her to the graveyard. Occasionally, other members of the D.A. would be in attendance and Ginny would stand next to them.

Harry planned on arriving right before the funeral started, but Ginny wanted to be there as early as possible. Hermione’s heels clicked as she walked down the Burrow steps into the kitchen. “Ready, Ginny?”

Together they apparated to a large wizarding cemetery. A place where thousands of purebloods were buried before. A place that currently had an unusually high amount of fresh mounds of dirt and 6 foot holes due to the significant amount of deaths during the war.

Ginny found her dormmates immediately. Jessica embracing Elise with Athena rubbing circles on her back. They all looked up as Ginny and Hermione approached the trio.

Jessica let go of Elise to engulf Ginny into a hug. "I am so sorry about Fred, Ginny."

"Thank you, Jess."

Jessica paused before wrapping Hermione in a hug as well.

Athena pulled something out of her pocket and placed it in Ginny’s hand.

"Here."

Opening her palm, Ginny felt that familiar tug of her gut. In her hand was a green butterfly clip, similar to the ones Sophie often donned in her hair. Looking up, she saw her roommates all had one clipped in their hair as well.

"Thank you," Ginny choked out, clipping her loose strands back.

"Do you want to sit with us?" Athena asked Hermione.

Hermione shook her head, "Thank you for the invite, but Ron and Harry should be arriving soon. I will sit with them in the back. You four should sit together."

Hermione gave Ginny’s shoulder a squeeze before walking to the back row of chairs.

The funeral started not too long later. Ginny pressed between Athena and Elise near the front. The four dormmates held hands the entire time, offering gentle squeezes of support to one another as they buried their friend. Little Samuel Deacon sobbed throughout the entire procession, and Ginny wished nothing more than him to have his sister back.

Ginny stayed back after the funeral to watch Harry approach the Deacon family. It was something he did after every burial, apologize to the family. Ginny wished Harry understood that Sophie’s death was not his fault.

Samuel turned away from his parents and gave her a small wave. Ginny lifted her hand, but turned away. The nausea associated with Sophie was churning in her stomach once again.

That night, with her back pressed against Harry’s chest and one of his arms draped across her churning stomach, she lay frozen still.

"You okay?" Harry murmured in her ear.

She wasn't, but she couldn't admit that secret out loud. Especially to the person who carried so much more guilt than she could even begin to imagine. So she lied.

"I'm fine."

Harry had no reason to believe her lie, since it was his favorite lie to tell too. But he pretended for her, pulling her closer to his chest, pressing his lips to the back of her skull.

Not shortly after, his breaths evened out as he was lulled to sleep. Ginny’s brain was ignited on fire, keeping her awake.

“I know, it’s going to be alright,” Ginny lied. Sophie continued to whimper in pain. Ginny could only bear to look at her face, scared of what the rest of her crushed body may look like.

“I want to go home,” Sophie cried out, tears leaking down her face. Ginny felt tears well up in her eyes too.

A sound from behind her drew her away from her dying friend. Ginny couldn’t see anyone, but something in her wanted to get up and follow.

Sophie’s weak cough drew her back in. Blood tinged on her lips, her face losing color as each second passed. “Will you stay with me until I go?” Sophie asked, her voice childlike. She is just a child, Ginny realized. At 17 years old, there was so much Sophie never experienced. So many people Sophie was leaving behind. Ginny’s gut flipped realizing this is why her own mother wanted her to stay hidden.

“Of course,” Ginny choked out.

Sophie’s fingers managed to find Ginny’s. “It’s okay, Gin. You were one of my best of friends.”

Ginny snapped herself out of the memory. Harry still wrapped tightly around her, his heat radiating off his body suffocating her. She wrestled herself out from underneath him, desperately trying to not wake him. She needed fresh air.

Barefoot in the grass, Ginny padded to the paddock and grabbed her broom. She took flight and hoped the night air could cool the fire she felt in her brain.

As the sun began to crack streaks of light in the sky, Ginny crept back into her bedroom. Harry softly snored in her sheets. Ginny smiled as she slid back into his arms. She had been awake for nearly 24 hours, her brain was finally exhausted enough to finally fall asleep.

With no more funerals to attend, the rest of May trickled by. Everyone was stagnant with grief, finding it difficult to progress on. Charlie was growing restless, staying now at Shell Cottage with Bill and Fleur, but not feeling like he could abandon the family back in Romania just yet. Every time he mentioned the country, her mum would burst into tears.

Percy was just there. All the time. He and her dad would attend work, but then he would always come back to the Burrow instead of his own apartment.

Ginny sat with George most days. They had a quiet understanding that talking was the last thing either one of them wanted to do. A few days a week, they would go to Weasleys' Wizards Wheezes and organize the mess. Some days, Lee Jordan and Angelina Johnson would stop by and help up, filling in the silence with endless chatter. Other days, the pair would sit on the front counter, passing back and forth a bottle of butterbeer with the radio blasting Wizard Rock in the background.

Ron and Hermione were wrapped around each other at all times of the day. One couldn't even use the toilet without the other hovering nearby on the stairwell.

She had not seen Harry in days due to conflicting schedules. He would fall asleep in her bed after a long day of performing bullshit politics with Kingsley, and Ginny would join him after her nightly flight. When she finally rose in the late morning, his side of her bed would be cold.

Moments alone were rare, and those moments were spent exploring each other's bodies instead of exploring each other's thoughts. They were two vastly different novels only sharing a page with one another and then snapping the book shut before either one could read any further. So Ginny came to her own conclusions.

The burn marks on his thighs were fresh as though his escape dragon from Gringotts scorched him. The ribs she traced with finger in the dark told her that food was scarce. The lightning shaped scar on his chest told a horror story she didn't want to touch with a ten foot pole. The erythematous circle branded into his chest was the most confusing part of his story.

Ginny hated to think what conclusions Harry was drawing from her body.

On a cool evening in late May, Ginny decided to actually retire to bed at a reasonable time. The sky had opened into a massive thunderstorm which was not relenting any time soon. Harry and her had played a round of Exploding Snap earlier in the day to pass the time.

"Are you falling asleep with me tonight?" Harry asked, bare legs crossed on her bed, his hand propped behind his head. He looked so casual, like her bed was his own.

"Only if you promise not to snore tonight," Ginny teased.

A pillow flew at her face. Ginny snapped it from the air and threw it right back into Harry’s face. With glasses askew and a smile tugging at his lips, Harry reached out a hand to her.

She eagerly took it, being led to her own bed.

Ginny melted into Harry’s side, his hands immediately resting on her hips pulling her close. She tilted her chin to slot her lips against his.

This part was easy. Harry’s body was a map she had traced and memorized a year ago, and, during the quiet dark nights in her dorm room, she recited to herself.

His lips were soft and chapped. Teeth grazing her own lips, threatening to roughen her up with a bite or two. His chest pressed against her own. His hands, one always wrapped around a strand of her hair, tugging her whenever she pressed up against him just right. His strong thighs, one always slotted in between her legs.

That was the mantra she replayed in her head over and over while her fingers wandered down her skin last year.

But now, in the dark of her warm bedroom, it was Harry’s fingers trailing down her body.

“You’re perfect,” Harry murmured into her collarbone as she moaned his name.

Ginny came undone with the touch of his fingertips, her world bursting, once again, into a fire. Her insides ignited for Harry. She felt far from perfect, but with Harry she felt alive.

Her hands worked to remove his faded T-shirt, eager to return the favor. Fingers trailed down his chest, avoiding the new scars on his body. She wrapped her hand around his length and Harry’s breath hitched, a noise escaping his mouth that Ginny wanted to bottle up and savor forever. He never had to say anything to her ever again as long as he kept making that noise.

“Ginny,” Harry moaned, “I don’t think I will last much long-”

Ginny shut him up by capturing his mouth with her own. Teeth grazing his swollen lips. With a few more pumps, Harry shuddered about another moan that made Ginny’s toes curl.

Harry blinked his eyes open, green irises hidden behind his black pupils, staring hungerly at her. He pressed lazy kisses along her jawline, nose, forehead, before finally catching her lips. “You make me forget everything bad,” Harry sighed into her lips.

Ginny’s insides turned cold, the blazing heat evaporated and replaced by an icy tundra. She wasn’t sure why, Harry’s confession or the idea of forgetting, losing memories.

“Goodnight, Harry,” Ginny said, hoping to prevent any more confessions from slipping through his loose lips.

“Night, Gin” Harry replied softly.

Harry’s bare chest rose and fell with each breath, and Ginny wished nothing more than the ability to join him in unconsciousness. Her finger traced the lightning bolt on his chest, her own chest tightening with memories of that day. She thought she lost him. The final blow in a series of blows that kept hitting her over and over again that night.

With everything she lost, she had to keep taking steps. One at a time.

One breath in. One breath out.

Ginny glanced out her window. The rain had slowed to a trickle. The blooming daisy sitting in the window sill caught her eye. She bolted up from her bed, grabbing the flower on her way out the door.

The orchard was still a mess. Her mum had removed the destroyed flowers, but all that was left was upturned earth. Falling to her hands and knees, Ginny dug in the soil. A wand would have made it easier, but she did not want easy.

Taking a step back and admiring her work, the daisy Harry had given her now rooted in the soil of the orchard. Alone. With a promise of growth.

To new beginnings.

The best and worst day of June (chapter 2)

If May trickled slowly like the water on the River Styx, June crashed in like a tsunami under Poseidon's rage.

The back door slammed close after George drunkenly stumbly out

Maps of Australia and pictures of the brain were pinned up on her walls. Gwenog Jones’s face was covered by a colorful poster highlighting the anatomy of the brain.

“Do you need any help?” Ginny asked.

Hermione tutted, wrapping her hair into a bun and sticking her want through it. “I wouldn’t mind a fresh pair of eyes. Thanks.”

Ginny picked up one of the massive textbook with a brain on the cover Charms of the Central Nervous System: Don’t be Nervous! Opening to the back glossary, Ginny scanned the O’s until she found what she was looking for.

Peering over her shoulder, Hermione said “I didn’t obliviate my parents’ memories. I blocked them.”

“What’s the difference?”

Hermione stood from the bed and walked over to the brain poster covering Gwenog’s face. “Obliviation destroys old memories. Burns them. That is why Gilderoy Lockhart will never fully recover because so much of his brain was destroyed. If little bits are taken then there is some neuroplasticity and ability to regenerate what was missing, but if I took 17 years of my parents' lives from them, I would never be able to get that back.” She paused, staring off into the distance, as though she was realizing the challenge she could be facing instead.

Shaking her head, Hermione continued. “So instead of taking away their memories, I hid them behind a wall.”

“The hippocampus stores memories,” Hermione said, pointing to a part of the brain that looked nothing like a seahorse. “So that is where my parents’ memories are being blocked. I just put their old memories behind a wall and put new memories in front of that wall.”

“There has not been a whole lot of research, but in theory, worst case scenario, if I remove their new memories too quickly, I could cause their brain to blow.”

“I’m sorry what?”

“Not like pew pew,” Hermione said, mimicking an explosion. “More like, their brains would swell to fill in the space of the memories that I took back. Which could cause their brain to expand and possibly herniate causing a stroke."

She mindlessly flipped through the pages of the textbook, hoping something would give her hints about memory and memory loss.

Ginny drops comments every now and then about memory loss

She is not very happy that Hermione took her parents memories

“What are you planning on telling your parents when you see them?”

“That I am their daughter and I had to keep them safe.”

“Do you think they will understand?”

“From personal experience, amnesia and having your memories taken from you can be very traumatizing.”

“This is different from the diary, Ginny. I was trying to keep them safe.”

As we will find out in a later chapter, Ginny is not talking about the diary

"Are you going to go with them?" Ginny asks on a warm night.

"No, I don't fancy facing another Winter so soon," Harry replied

And there it was. A hint about what he had faced this past year, but neither one pushed forward. She could ask, and he might answer, but then he might ask the same of her. And that was something she did not want to answer. Some Gryffindor she is.

Harry tells her everything about the horcruxes and how we was one for the last 16 years of his life.

Ginny tells Harry very little about what she experienced this last year.

Hermione goes up to switch beds like they do every night and when Harry is lying next to her, she dreams about him. But when he talks she hears Tom. When she wakes and Harry is laying right next to her, she freaks the fuck out.

The next day she runs away to Lunas

Luna “I always liked being outside. Now I love it even more. It is open, and bright. I’m not a big fan of the dark right now.”

“If you want to talk about it, I will happily listen.”

“Ginny, you are such a good listener, but not a very good talker.”

“You should tell Ron that. He says I never shut up.”

“Oh no you talk, you just don’t talk about what is bothering you. You ask questions about me or how other people are doing, but when people ask how you are doing. You deflect. You talk about how Quidditch is going, or how your family is. But never you.

A few nights later, Harry joins her out flying, and that is when she admits that she is afraid that she was never in love with Harry, but she was attracted to the horcrux within him this entire time.

Harry has to put his big boy pants on and try to be emotionally mature hearing that from her. (Boy does not do a very good job, but at least he is trying)

He tries to get her to open up more about what happened to her and slowly we start to see some things

She picked up a strand of grass, carefully pulling it apart into two separate pieces. A simple distraction. "What do you know of last year?"

"Only what little Neville has told me."

"I'm sure what he told you paints the picture of what happened," she shrugged. She couldn't meet his gaze, she stared at the grass in her hand, delicately tying it into a knot. His hand reached for hers, fingers intertwining. He squeezed her hand gently, reassuringly. Offering support.

---

She is hiding. She doesn’t want to talk to Harry, or see her mum’s broken face. So she is hiding in the one place no one would look.

Laying on Fred’s bed, she could finally be alone.

***enter depressing thoughts here***

---

On June 22nd, she dreams of Tom. She always dreams of him on this day. Their anniversary of meeting face to face in a chamber meant to be a secret. She wants to ask Harry if he remembers, but she doesn't dare for the fear of what he might say.

I forgot.

Lucky you.

So she keeps this nightmare to herself just like she kept the past year to herself. She felt like she was slowly becoming a chamber full of secrets herself.

That night, with her back against Harry’s chest and one of his arms draped across her stomach, was the first time she felt brave all day. In the dark where he couldn’t see her face, when they were alone, unlikely to be overheard since the house was asleep. She finally muttered the truth that haunted her.

“I'm the reason Sophie's dead.”

The only indication that Harry heard her was the pause in his breath. Harry’s arm tightened, pulling her impossibly closer to his chest. And because he understands her perfectly, he does not suggest that she possibly could not be a murderer, he asks a different question.

“Why do you think so?”

She inhales slowly, calming down her nerves. “I left her on the courtyard. We were fighting together, Colin and Seamus were also there. Spells were flying everywhere, and I lost her in the crowd. There just was so much chaos. Then a death eater was in front of me, I think it was Avery, firing curse after curse at me,” Ginny paused, flashes of that night playing over and over in her mind. “I fired a reducto at the arch above his head and it collapsed on top of him. But it caused a lot more damage. It wasn’t much later that Voldemort called for a pause.

“After, well after, I went inside,” Ginny said, skipping over finding out about Fred’s death, “I went out to the courtyard to find survivors. To help. That is where I found her. Underneath the rubble that I caused.”

"You couldn’t have known.”

But Ginny felt like she should have known better. She knew innocent actions have consequences after surviving her first year

I've been down since July

In the cracks of light, I dreamed of you

The Great Depression

Pieces of her life were black. Dark and missing and forgotten. She had soared to unimaginable heights to try to find them, but every time she thought she heard a whisper of a memory, it turned into his voice mocking her, or worse, her own voice laughing at her.

Hermione and Ron come back from Australia

Hermione apologizes to Ginny because her mum cannot forgive her. Her dad had to play mediator in the argument.

Her parents are coming back to England eventually, but not yet. They wanted more time before returning home.

Ron and Ginny conversation

"It's supposed to be easy. Harry and me. How it was before."

"What did you used to talk about."

"I tried prying once to know what he was up to with Dumbledore, but Harry not so subtly shut that down quickly. So we stuck to safe topics. Quidditch, O.W.L.s, how maroon definitely isn't your color."

Ron scowled.

Criminal Trials get announced for the Death Eaters and the date

A brown owl flew into the kitchen, dropping off the newest edition of the Daily Prophet on Hermione’s plate. She reached into her shorts pocket to trade a knut for the paper. Ron fed a small piece of his breakfast sausage to the owl as compensation as well. The owl gave a satisfied hoot before flapping its wings and flying out of the kitchen window.

Ginny pointed her fork at her brother. "Who was the person I suggested you snogged for practice?"

"Are you seriously asking me security questions right now?"

"The Ron Weasley I know would never voluntarily give up some of his breakfast."

Ron stabbed his fork in another piece of sausage, taking the whole thing in his mouth, "Yeah well I've matured."

"Oh! They released the dates for the trails!" Hermione shouted, interrupting them.

Ron looked away from her and turned back to his girlfriend. “When’s Malfoy’s?” He asked, kindly swallowing his food before asking.

The Carrow trials get announced for like August 13th, making sure that they are AFTER Ginny's birthday which makes her an adult, therefore, she is required to speak at them if they summon her as a witness

yeah this was done intentionally, fuck the ministry for forcing my girl to have to relive her trauma

Harry’s birthday

Ginny gets drunk at Harry’s party

I love you, ain't that the worst thing you’ve ever heard?

August slipped away

Ginny’s birthday

Carrow trials

Amycus was a man. He only understood pain in tears and in blood. He didn’t understand that to girls blood meant nothing more than washing their sheets that night before bed. He didn’t understand that girlhood was pain, or that tears could be shed from grief or laughter.

Alecto was a woman. She understood that trauma of girlhood because no matter how horrid she currently is, she was a victim of it too. She understood how to torture a young girl scared of her past. She knew how to weaponize memories, or the lack thereof, so that Ginny could continue to torture herself without Alecto lifting another finger.

Ginny turned to the other side of the courtroom where Amycus Carrow sat. His face emotionless, but his muddy eyes filled with glee, like her reliving her torture was *erotic* for him.

She felt her heart quicken. Calm down.

Breathe in and out.

"Her brother told me."

Her mind brought her back to the floor of the DADA classroom. Those same hungry brown eyes staring down at her, his wand still raised. Every one of her nerve endings felt like it was on fire, every synapse filled with ice. Her mind bounced from one area of her body to the next, unable to focus on what body system hurt the most. Amycus lowered his wand and sneered down at her, "I know Alecto makes you forget her detentions, but I want this one to be unforgettable."

The courtroom was silent. The judge leaned forward in his chair, "Can you please further explain, Miss Weasley?"

Breathe In.

Out.

In.

Out.

• So since I never actually wrote what happened to Ginny during her time with Alecto, I will tell you all now. Alecto would erase Ginny's memory after every detention. Often times, the detentions were tame, because the punishment was the fact that Ginny was slowly losing her mind and she felt like she was reliving her first year at Hogwarts. Alecto figured out that Ginny was the girl in the chamber (because how would people not know this information? like Ginny wrote her suicide note on the wall in red paint) and used that to torment her. Also tying in the fact that Amycus was still torturing my poor girl with the cruciatus curse, Ginny was going through it. And it is not like she could really tell anyone what was happening to her because she didn't know what was happening to her. She eventually pieced it together.

• The coming together of Harry and Ginny officially

You'll Have New Septembers

The epilogue where Harry sends Ginny off on the Hogwarts express

#graveyard fic #hinny #ginny weasley #i could just upload the first chapter.... but that also feels like a disservice to the rest of the fic #Spotify

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aziraphales-library · 7 days

Note

Hello~ Can I submit a fic rec?

Give Me Death in a Big Cup by indigovigilance

Summary: Astronomy Professor!Crowley meets Bookseller!Aziraphale Status: WIP (updates twice a week) Rated: M

Love the themes it explores and the way it fleshes out & develops characters in a human AU setting. It's really well written and researched <3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/50548276/chapters/127694641

Thank you for all your recs!

Thanks for the rec!...

Give Me Death in a Big Cup by indigovigilance (E) (WIP)

A professor of astronomy from South Downs wanders into Nina's coffee shop and orders off the secret menu, but has forgotten his wallet; luckily, Ezra Fell, local bookseller and single father to 20yo Muriel, is on hand to cover the tab. A slow and gentle romance unfolds as the two share their interests with one another and help each other to heal from old wounds, all while assisting young Muriel to step into adulthood. Soon, they begin to have strange dreams about two angels who ask questions in the days before the creation of the first humans, and must make difficult sacrifices to protect each other. If you like Demonology or TawnyOwl95 for tone and emotional depth, this work might be up your alley. Full of poetic prose, nerdy info-dumping, and meandering philosophical discussions. Frequent references to books, movies, and music that the author likes. Fully outlined, new chapters released the first Tuesday of every month. Split into 5 books; Books 1 and 2 are complete. Chapters that have been converted to audio marked with an asterisk, player works in mobile and desktop. Chapter count is an estimate.

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #adult omens #human au #fluff #mod d

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klikandtuna · 1 month

Text

“I believe you,” Muriel whispers.

He grins. “Then open the door.”

Chapter 17, “Only a Limitless Now,” is posted! In which Crowley counts to ten, tells a joke, and takes a nap. 😁

Sky Clear Blue (rated E) updates eeeeevery Tuesday and Friday with friggin enormous chapters because I have many strengths but brevity is not one of them. Time-travel, Big Feels, and delicious smut—what more could you want?

#good omens #good omens crowley #good omens aziraphale #aziraphale #crowley #aziracrow #digital art #fanart #good omens fandom #ao3 fanfic #good omens muriel #good omens fic #good omens fanfic #good omens au #good omens fanart #good omens human au #time travel au #worst chapter summary ever #sky clear blue

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fuckyeahgoodomens · 8 months

Text

The Good Omens Season 2 Soundtrack! 😍❤🎵

The Soundtrack CD has wonderful cover and pics and look at the brilliant booklet! :D When you open it it looks like a box with a fly! :D

Options :):

(best to use the local store of course :), the Silva Screen page is thewebpage of the recording company)

CD:

Silva Screen 15.99 €

Amazon.co.uk £10.99

Amazon.com $30.79

Vinyl:

Silva Screen 39.99 €

Amazon.com $53.99

Digital:

Silva Screen 10.99 €

More digital listening options :) (some free)

Episode description and Track Listing :):

CHAPTER 1: THE ARRIVAL - Retired angel Aziraphale and retired demon Crowley's lives are upended when a visitor arrives on the doorstep of Aziraphale's bookshop, bringing chaos. Local shopkeepers Maggie and Nina get locked in to Nina's coffee shop when Crowley loses his temper. Heaven and Hell are suspicious, and Crowley and Aziraphale have a disagreement.

1. Before the Beginning 2. Good Omens 2 Opening Title 3. Into Soho 4. Something Terrible 5. To The Bookshop 6. Maggie and Nina 7. He’s Smoking 8. Tiny Miracle 9. Heavenly Alarm Bells

CHAPTER 2: THE CLUE featuring the minisode A COMPANION TO OWLS - Heaven and Hell are determined to find the missing angel. An overheard song provides Aziraphale with a Clue. Crowley and Aziraphale visit the pub to discuss ways that humans fall in love. While almost 5,000 years ago Crowley is sent to inflict punishments on the righteous Job, God's favourite person, as Aziraphale learns at first hand about temptation, and what Gabriel will and won't believe.

10. Avaunt! 11. The Song is the Clue 12. It’s What God Wants 13. A Mighty Wind 14. Whales 15. Gabriel Returns 16. His New Children 17. Am I Awful Now? 18. Fallen Angel

CHAPTER 3: I KNOW WHERE I'M GOING featuring the minisode THE RESURRECTIONISTS - Heaven sends the angel Muriel in disguise to spy on Aziraphale and Crowley. Aziraphale drives to Edinburgh in pursuit of his Clue, and learns a little about a lot. The couple's visit to Edinburgh in 1827 involves graverobbery, a statue and an unfortunate encounter with a vial of laudanum. In the present, Crowley is in charge of the bookshop, and is disappointed by human beings and the weather.

19. Police Arrive 20. Scotland 21. We’re Going to Hell 22. People Get a Choice 23. My Car is Not Yellow 24. Beelzebub in Hell 25. The Book 26. The Fly 27. Mr. Dalrymple 28. We Need to Cut 29. I’m Going to Save Her 30. Crowley Goes Large 31. Not Kind 32. Beelzebub Isn’t Happy

CHAPTER 4: THE HITCHHIKER featuring the minisode NAZI ZOMBIE FLESHEATERS - Aziraphale's good deed of picking up a hitchhiker on his way back to Soho proves to be a serious mistake. In 1941 Crowley and Aziraphale encounter some surprising adversaries, old and new, as the Nazi spies who almost entrapped Aziraphale return as zombies from the dead, intent on preventing him from attempting a bullet catch on the West End stage.

33. Hell-O 34. Nazi Zombies 35. March of the Nazi Zombies 36. Crowley Pep Talk 37. The Magic Shop 38. Catch The Bullet 39. Zombies in the Dressing Room

CHAPTER 5: THE BALL - Aziraphale tries to bring Maggie and Nina together by organising a meeting of the Whickber Street Shopkeepers and Street Traders Association. In Hell, Shax is determined to launch a full scale attack on the bookshop, with a legion of demons at her command. Nina's heart is broken, as is a bookshop window. Gabriel has a close encounter with Mrs Sandwich and a small plate of cakes.

40. I’ll Let You Have It 41. We’re Storming a Book Shop 42. Monsieur Azirophale 43. The Candelabra 44. Here Comes Hell 45. Gabriel Gives Himself Up 46. Shax 47. The Circle

CHAPTER 6: EVERY DAY - Crowley becomes a Heavenly bee and learns the truth about the Armageddon sequel. Aziraphale defends his bookshop from Shax's army and reveals his halo, Maggie and Nina become warriors, and Jim the assistant bookseller gets some hot chocolate. Crowley and Aziraphale get to the bottom of the mystery of the Matchbox. The Metatron brings an oat milk latte, along with a final offer.

48. Bin Through the Window 49. Gabriel Leaving Heaven 50. The Halo 51. Gabriel Revealed 52. Gabriel’s Love Story 53. Leaving The Bookshop 54. Gabriel and Beelzebub 55. Crowley and Muriel 56. I Forgive You 57. Don’t Bother 58. The Biggest Decision 59. The End?

The vinyl should look like this :) (damn, it gorgeous toooo! :D):

#good omens #s2 soundtrack #s2 ost #s2 music #david g arnold #masterposts #s2 soundtrack masterpost #WAHOO

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mimisempai · 2 months

Text

This unavoidable between us - Chapter 2/8

Chapter Summary

Aziraphale and Crowley meet, discuss boundaries and expectations. Crowley makes an incredible discovery...

On Ao3

Rating G - 2944 words

Masterpost here

Day 1

Location: The Ritz Hotel - The green park Suite - (2 bedrooms)

Activities:

-First meeting for afternoon tea in Palm Court, the hotel's tea room

-Getting to know each other

-Hotel dress code - No other requirements

-Dinner at the hotel restaurant

Crowley smiled as he checked the instructions for the first day one last time.

He'd gone to the agency early this morning to pick up all the necessary documents for the week ahead, and now he was having a light breakfast before getting ready for the meeting ahead.

When he saw the name of the hotel, he went to the official website to get an idea of the type of environment he would be staying in. It seemed that Aziraphale was quite well off to be able to choose a place of such standing. As for Crowley, he had never been in such a luxurious place in his life. He hoped he would make no mistakes. He had almost thought of giving himself an hour-long crash course in the rules of proper behavior, but in the end, he figured the customer knew what kind of person he was, and he wasn't going to force himself to be someone else either.

After breakfast and consulting the hotel's dress code for the various venues, he set out to find the perfect outfit for the first meeting. Crowley opted for a charcoal suit, the cut of which Nina found flattering to his figure, and a dark red shirt. He dressed, applied a bit of cologne and, satisfied with the way he looked in the mirror, grabbed his luggage and left his apartment.

When his taxi dropped him off in front of the Ritz, he still had almost an hour before meeting the customer, which would at least give him time to observe this unfamiliar environment and get used to it smoothly.

That didn't stop him from muttering as the meeting approached, "Why did I say yes? The client will see right away that I don't belong here, in fact, I'm sure he'll fire me right away. Why on earth did I stop smoking? I really need a cigarette. Come on, Crowley, get a grip. You've never backed down from a challenge, so today's not the day to start. Take a deep breath, this is for Nina and Muriel."

He gripped the handle of his suitcase, took a deep breath and walked confidently to the front door.

**********

Aziraphale had arrived at the Palm Court half an hour early. Someone from the agency had picked up his suitcase this morning to drop it off at the hotel, and while he waited, he had taken the time to collect himself so he could make the most of every minute he had left.

He had promised himself to focus on the present.

To make the most of each day.

Carpe Diem.

Never had those two words meant so much as they did in the dawn of the days ahead.

He looked at his reflection in the window of the tearoom.

He was wearing light linen pants, a light blue shirt and a matching blazer. It wasn't his usual "uniform", but it came close, while being a bit more casual. From time to time he found himself wanting to tighten a waistcoat he wasn't wearing and laughed at himself, realizing how ingrained certain habits were.

Looking out the window, he saw Anthony arrive.

It was impossible not to notice the distinctive hair.

Aziraphale had to admit that the man was even more alluring than in the photos the agency had shown him. In fact, he was absolutely striking.

He watched as he opened the door, then stepped aside to hold it open for an elderly lady who was about to leave.

She thanked him with a smile, and Aziraphale could really see the smile on the man's face that had captured his attention since he'd seen the agency's photo.

Anthony went inside and chatted with a waitress who led him to the table where Aziraphale was waiting. Then he saw the red-haired man frown adorably before his face lit up with the same smile he'd had for the old lady when he seemed to recognize Aziraphale. He walked over to Aziraphale's table, who stood up to greet him.

"Hello, I'm Aziraphale, you must be..."

The newcomer, still smiling, replied cheerfully, "Crowley."

Aziraphale frowned.

"Crowley?"

Crowley sheepishly replied, "Oops, Anthony!"

Aziraphale nodded and replied, "Would you prefer to be called Crowley?"

Crowley shook his head.

"In fact, it doesn't really matter. I've been called that for a long time because people think Anthony doesn't suit me.

So it's become a habit."

Aziraphale replied gently, "I really like Anthony, and I think it suits you. May I call you Anthony?"

You can call me anything you like in that velvet voice of yours.

Of course, Crowley didn't say it out loud and just nodded.

Aziraphale held out his hand and said with a smile, "Nice to meet you, Anthony."

Crowley grasped the outstretched hand as he replied, "Nice to meet you, Aziraphale.

In that moment, as his fingers closed on Aziraphale's hand, Crowley understood what it meant when the world stops spinning and the truth is revealed to you. He felt a great chill run through him, followed by a warmth that took root in his heart.

He had found him.

His soul mate.

Aziraphale suggested, "Why don't we sit down?" then motioned for a waitress.

As they sat, Crowley had only one thought.

It's him, it's him, it's him... he's my soul mate...

He was snapped out of his stupor by the waitress who asked, "What would you like to order?"

Crowley, confused and still reeling from the discovery that the man in front of him was his soulmate, wasn't sure what to order.

He said in a slightly hesitant tone, "Aziraphale, I'm not too familiar with this kind of place and the others we'll be going to, so I trust you to guide me."

At this point, Aziraphale didn't know where the game and the truth would end, but he decided to leave it at that. After all, he'd always secretly dreamed of having a lover to guide, to show new things to. So if Crowley was happy in that role, nothing would stop him from enjoying it.

"I've never been here before either, but I hear the scones are excellent."

After consulting the menu, Aziraphale turned to the waitress and said, "We'll have freshly baked plain and fruit scones with a glass of sparkling tea."

As Aziraphale ordered, Crowley tried to come to terms with the fact that Aziraphale was his soul mate and wondered what to do.

Should he broach the subject like this, out of the blue, or...

"Anthony?"

Aziraphale's warm voice immediately brought Crowley out of his reverie and he apologized for his lack of attention. Aziraphale reassured him and said gently, "I took the liberty of ordering a non-alcoholic drink, for now."

"You did the right thing. I'll just let myself be surprised, and it's also good if we want to keep our ideas clear."

Then Crowley leaned forward a little and asked, a half smile on his lips, "So, Aziraphale, do you do this often?"

"What, eat scones and drink tea?"

Crowley rolled his eyes, causing Aziraphale to chuckle softly before continuing more seriously, knowing full well what Crowley was getting at.

"No, this is the first time, I've never done this before."

Crowley moved his hand toward Aziraphale's on the table, as if to grab it, but stopped himself and said quietly, "It's something I've never done either, I'll be honest, it's to help a friend that I'm doing this. That's why I think we should talk about boundaries right now. For example, what topics are appropriate to talk about or what you don't want to talk about at all. How much intimacy you want or don't want between us. Things like that."

Pleasantly surprised by the delicacy and maturity of the man before him, Aziraphale replied softly after a few seconds of silence, "I'll give you almost no limits as far as topics of conversation are concerned, except for one, which is without appeal, I absolutely do not want to talk or hear about soulmates."

Crowley swallowed, feeling a great chill come over him as Aziraphale explained, "I have no need for soul mates, and that's all I'll say on the subject. As for the rest, I want to be myself for at least these few days, so we're really free to talk about anything."

Crowley, deeply saddened, quickly pulled himself together and replied, "I can only promise to reciprocate, it's the least I can do. Since we're pretty much on the same wavelength, shall we agree that if a subject can't be broached, is too sensitive or triggering, we'll tell each other and move on?"

Aziraphale nods in agreement.

"I think it's important for both of us to be honest about our own boundaries in order to make the most of this short time. While we're discussing boundaries, I'd like to ask you a question and know that whatever your answer, our time together will go as planned. It's just a matter of knowing where to sail."

"Go ahead," Crowley replied, looking him straight in the eye.

"What limits, if any, do you wish to place on intimacy?"

Knowing what he knew, the question was even trickier, so Crowley allowed himself a few moments of silent reflection before answering seriously, "Aziraphale, just to be clear, to be sure we mean the same thing," he paused and continued with a slight blush, "when you say intimacy, do you mean intimate gestures, like holding hands, that sort of thing?"

If Aziraphale hadn't been embarrassed himself, he would have found Anthony's discomfort adorable and coughed a little to compose himself before answering, "Yes, that sort of thing."

"Ah..." Crowley blushed even more, "Well, I don't mind if it comes naturally between us, but I don't feel very comfortable if I don't get to know you a bit more first, I couldn't do that if it's just to play a part, sorry."

Even if Aziraphale was his soulmate, Crowley wasn't going to trample who he was for a few kisses.

Aziraphale was touched by the disarming and refreshing honesty of the man before him, and it made him want to treat him with the respect he deserved even more.

He replied softly, "I'm glad to hear that, Anthony, let's use the same rule we use for topics of conversation. If one of us goes too far, the other has to tell him and we'll move on."

"That's fine."

Crowley was relieved that things were going that way. He was glad to see that Aziraphale really seemed to be a good person.

Aziraphale took a sip of tea and, leaning back in his seat, he asked, "You mentioned getting to know each other, so what do you want to know, Anthony?"

Crowley asked his questions and Aziraphale answered, then asked questions in turn until the conversation flowed naturally. They shared their tastes in reading, music, and even painting. Crowley admitted that his knowledge in this area was rather limited, but that it was a subject he would like to explore when he had the time.

Aziraphale kept that in the back of his mind.

They discussed their respective professions. Aziraphale elicited several smiles from his companion as he spoke passionately about his bookstore, and Aziraphale marveled at Anthony's passion for astronomy. When he talked about it, it was almost as if he was vibrating from within.

Then his admiration went up a notch when Crowley told him that the money he would make from this week with Aziraphale would allow him to spoil his sibling and their companion, who were about to move in together. He hadn't talked about what he would get out of it, just what he could give to his family.

Once they'd gotten over the initial awkwardness, the discussion had been easy and smooth, with no pauses, sometimes lively, sometimes quieter, and Aziraphale told himself he hadn't been stimulated like that in a long time. It was almost 6 p.m. when they went to the hotel reception to pick up the keys to the suite where they would spend the week, and a few moments later they entered with their luggage. Then each of them took possession of his room, having agreed to meet an hour later for dinner in the hotel restaurant.

Entering his room, Aziraphale placed his bagaes in a corner and poured himself a glass of water, which he drank while gazing out of his bedroom window, which offered a beautiful view of the city at dusk.

He couldn't help but smile as he told himself that if the rest of the week was anything like this afternoon, it was going to be a wonderful seven days.

Anthony had proven to be a most pleasant partner.

Aziraphale didn't know how long it had been since he could enjoy someone's company without having to pay attention to every word and attitude. His companion was so open that talking with him seemed quite natural. Not to mention the pleasure of being with someone whose emotions could be read on his face, which Aziraphale didn't have to decipher. He could see that what he had said about the topic of conversation he didn't want to know about had made Anthony a little uneasy, but since the man had managed to get over it, Aziraphale didn't dwell on it.

Aziraphale had sometimes felt like saying certain things just to see the reaction on his face. He wondered how Anthony would react under different circumstances... Blushing slightly at where his thoughts were taking him, he ended his reverie to freshen up before getting ready for dinner.

Crowley, in the next room, lay back on the bed, legs dangling, staring at the ceiling with a slight smile. He had replayed the afternoon in his mind and apart from the disappointment on the subject of soulmates, Crowley wasn't far from thinking that this first date had been the best of his life, if he was honest.

Aziraphale was everything he'd dreamed of in a man: intelligent, funny, thoughtful, and most of all, for the first time in a long time, Crowley felt treated as an equal and accepted for who he was.

He didn't lose sight of reality, though; he knew it would only last a week. The fact that Aziraphale was his soulmate didn't change that. His tone had been unmistakable when he'd broached the subject.

Crowley suspected he'd probably end up heartbroken. But he was determined to make the most of every moment he spent with Aziraphale.

Resolute, he went to get ready for dinner.

A few moments later, he knocked on his companion's door, and they walked together to the hotel restaurant, where the afternoon's discussion continued as if it hadn't stopped.

The meal passed like a dream, and Crowley, far more interested in the man in front of him than in what was on his plate, would not have been able to say what he ate.

As they finished their desserts, Aziraphale's hand slipped to his, which was beside his glass, and the other man asked, "Is it too soon if..."

Crowley shook his head and replied gently, "Not for me," and it was his hand that came to rest on Aziraphale's. Aziraphale smiled before turning his hand under Crowley's and their fingers intertwined naturally.

Crowley continued, "Our circumstances are somewhat unique. Given the deadline on our time together, if you'll pardon the analogy, it's only natural that some things move faster. Besides, I don't know about you, but after half a day, I feel like I've known you longer than that."

Aziraphale nodded, and from then on the conversation continued as naturally as before, if not more easily, their hands never letting go. When the waiter came at one in the morning to tell them that the restaurant would be closing soon, they shared the same look of surprise.

Both aware of the growing affection between them, they got up and went to their suite, still holding hands. Even the silence that surrounded them in the elevator was quite comfortable. When they reached the suite, they said good night and slowly, almost reluctantly, let go of each other's hands before Crowley finished breaking the spell and turned to go to his room. But just as he was about to enter, he felt his sleeve grabbed as Aziraphale murmured softly, "Anthony, wait..."

Crowley turned and Aziraphale laid a hand on his cheek before asking, his voice hesitant, almost shy, "May... May I kiss you?"

For a few seconds, Crowley wondered if it was possible to die of an attack of cuteness, then, seeing Aziraphale ready to pull away, he simply nodded before leaning down to Aziraphale, whose lips met his in the softest of kisses.

It was perfect and lasted just long enough to end this exceptional evening.

Just before they both withdrew, Aziraphale cupped Crowley's head between his hands and, after pressing a kiss to his forehead, said in a husky voice, "Thank you, Anthony, and good night."

Then he stepped back, feeling the other man's gaze follow him as he closed the door behind him.

He prepared himself for the night in a kind of blissful haze, and as he laid his head on his pillow, he knew that sleep wouldn't be long in coming.

When he closed his eyes, all he could see was Anthony and his gentle smile.

"Make your life a dream"

It certainly looked like it.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story 🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Ineffable fan fictions Masterpost : here

#good omens #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #ineffable boyfriends #aziraphale #crowley #good omens fanfiction #aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale #human AU #soulmate

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