several sunlit days;

just tonight..

talking Quidditch

It was unusually quiet in the Common Room that evening. A combination of the gobstones club final and the run up to exams meant that most people had been drawn out of Gryffindor tower to go elsewhere, leaving just a few people studying at the tables, going back and forth to their dorms, and Ginny leaning against Harry’s legs by the fire, a large Defence Against the Dark Arts textbook open on her lap.

He was reading too, his own book leaning on the arm of the sofa, while one of his hands played absent-mindedly with her hair. She huffed heavily.

‘What’s that counter-jinx for the blinding hex?’ she asked him. ‘It’s completely flown out of my head.’

‘Aperire oculos,’ he said casually, still running a strand of her hair through his fingers.

‘That’s the one.’

They continued to read in a comfortable silence, only the occasional rustle or cough from the other students, the rare rumble of footsteps from the steps to the dorms, the sound of pages being turned. Harry’s hand moved down - seemingly without thinking he was brushing his fingers against the skin just behind her ear. She thought she might melt, and closed her eyes.

She’d gone to their little flat above the shop and been almost impressed by the amount of washing up piled precariously by the sink. ‘You can just use magic, it would take you two seconds,’ she said to George.

‘Wouldn’t be a real bachelor pad if there wasn’t a huge fucking mess everywhere,’ he’d said with a shrug, still playing with a deck of cards.

‘You’re the only bachelor,’ she said.

‘You know what I meant. Want a game of exploding snap?’ he asked, lounging on the sofa.

So, this is also something I touch on in Not From Others, and to be honest in typical British fashion I don’t think there would have been a big moment or any significant reactions from the family as a whole - I think they would have heard about it in HBP from Ron (who was clearly informing F&G at the very least about Ginny’s love life). However, as I got drunk over the Easter weekend and had a long journey with a hangover, I thought I would write you a little drabble about the family finding out Harry specifically *loves* Ginny. It’s turned out quite lengthy, so I hope you enjoy. 

Drunk in Love

Warnings for alcohol consumption (heavy binge drinking) and strong language. 

They had targeted him from the start, which was rather unfair, because it was him that the press were going to be interested in getting pictures of chucking up in an alleyway. Perhaps that was why - it was always funny to see him groan over the morning paper, and if he had a hangover too that would be even funnier.

‘What is it?’ Harry asked loudly, as George pressed a glass into his hand.

‘You’ll like it,’ George shouted back. The music was pounding - for Halloween, Leaky Cauldron had organised a live band, and the place was packed with witches and wizards getting very merry indeed.

harry and ginny realizing they like LIKE each other. for hinny shipweek

нarry & gιnny

She’d have liked to have said she’d realised she was a few days late, but she’d never been regular (in her sappy books they always used the term “like clockwork” - what nonsense, “like an unexpected and unwelcome guest” would be more fitting). She’d have even liked to have said she realised when she just started throwing up, only in the mornings, you see, where she would say ‘oh I feel fine now, must have been the chicken!’ and then somehow not connect the dots (again, these dumb books always expected you to be surprised the main character had a baby instead of salmonella). She’d have even settled for telling people the first sign was when her boobs had started to ache, or get bigger, or something like that. But aside from a few vivid dreams and a vague thought that she kept tasting something metallic in her mouth, she hadn’t had any symptoms at all.

It had been five strange, exhausting days. Harry had done nothing but funerals. He was running out of black robes, no matter how quickly the house elves did his laundry. His shoulders ached from the coffins. Everyone wanted him there, even if he didn’t know them, because of course they did. And of course he couldn’t say no. How could he?

Remus and Tonks had been buried together. He had been in a daze of denial.

‘Do you want to pick Remus’s epitaph?’ they had asked.

‘Yes,’ he said, even though he didn’t.

To live in hearts we leave behind is not to die.

That was what he had decided. He was ashamed to admit he had seen it on another grave, for some stranger.

I had to use my bad sketchbook for this so it looks bad but I think everyone gets the point