#ginivera

the     bar     is     pretty     seedy,     even     by     freddie’s     standards.     the     surfaces     don’t     shine     &     when     he     braves     a     moment     to     peer     at     the     glasses,     they’re     smudged     in     ways     that     even     HE     finds     unacceptable.     but     it’s     nearly     Christmas     &     he’s     with     GINNY,     so     he     finds     himself     not     really     caring     about     the     extraneous     circumstances.    

harry     hasn’t     spent     a     Christmas     indoors     in      𝕗𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕪𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕤.  something     in     his     bones     ᵃᶜʰᵉˢ     as     he     steps     through     the     threshold     into     the     entry     way     to     the     burrow.     he’s     overwhelmed     by     the     inviting,     warm     scent     drifting     outside     through     the     windows,     as     visions     of     𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐫     &     younger     times     soar     through     his     thoughts.     he     didn’t     really     expect     to     react     to     the     burrow     like     this.     but,     on     reflection,     he     realizes     it’s     the     closest     place     to     home     he’s     ever     hard.

❛     i’ve   seen   you  out  on  the  pitch.     ❜     hurriedly   winding   a  blue-and-bronze  scarf  around  his  neck,     he  flags  her  down  after  the  prefects  meeting,     partially  jogging  to  fall  in  with  her   brisk   descent.     ❛     you’re  a   remarkable   flyer.    i’ll  take  astral  projection  over  a  broom  any  day,     but  i  have  to  admit  i’m  a  bit   envious.     ❜

SEND 💞 FOR ME TO DESCRIBE 5 WAYS MY MUSE SAYS ‘I LOVE YOU’ TO YOURS.

1. Going to her Quidditch games despite his apathy towards the sport, and always congratulating her on one specific play he mentally notes.2. Supplying additional details about some Muggle reference without being prompted so that she doesn’t have to keep asking to understand what he means.3. “I love visiting here.” – when he comes to the Burrow, and not just for the food Molly loads on his plate. He misses seeing her throughout the holidays.4. “Do you want me to look over your History of Magic essay?” – because he’s quite good with that stuff, and doesn’t mind helping her out when he knows she’s busy with Quidditch training and other duties.5. Wandering up to the Gryffindor tower with her even though he can’t go in, not because he feels she needs an escort but because they’re having a fun conversation and he doesn’t want to abruptly end it to head over to the Ravenclaw tower.

“so---     harry’s     telling     the     truth     ?     “     katniss     asks,     twisting     a     hand     around     the     braid     in     her     hair     nervously.     gale’s     been     trying     to     convince     her     for     weeks,     but     she’s     been     reluctant—     understandably,     perhaps.     though     the     muggle     newspapers     reported     the     explosion     that     killed     her     father     as     an     accident,     katniss     knows     better.     “     he’s     really     back     ?     “

          𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐅𝐔𝐋  /  𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄.   a  gentle  breeze  wafts  over  the  garden,  plucking  at  their  clothes  like  timid  hands  as  they  sit,  faces  turned  towards  the  sun  ;  birdsong  is  carried  upon  wind’s  breath,  the  only  sound  aside  from  the  shifting  of  leaves  in  nearby  trees  &  the  soft  notes  of  a  wind-chime  dangling  from  backdoor.   attention  falls  on  the  soft  strands  of  red  between  fingers  as  he  methodically  weaves  them  together  :  up,  over,  through,  repeat.   up,  over,  through,  repeat.

          there’s  a  companionable  silence  between  them  that’s  more  comfortable  than  stifling  ;  he  used  to  LOATHE,  in  the  early  days,  how  the  quiet  seemed  to  press  in  from  all  sides,  suffocating  with  its  reminder  of  what  was  lost.   fred  was  boundless  energy,  he  was  laughter  personified  ;  to  navigate  in  a  world  without  him  meant  learning  to  embrace  still  moments  without  automatically  wanting  to  fill  the  gap  with  an  almost  aggressive  fervour.

              his  family’s  patience  remains  something  he  will  never  be  able  to  repay.

          plucks  a  daisy  from  grass  beneath,  threading  it  into  its  new  fiery  bed  where  it  sits,  blooming  against  bright  orange  tresses  that  match  his  own.   one  by  one  flowers  begin  to  populate  the  slightly  lopsided  braid   (   no  matter  how  hard  he  tried  to  keep  it  even,  execution  of  plait  more  askew  than  he  planned  for   ),   until  her  hair  overflows  with  bright  white  &  yellow.

          ❛   okay               ❜   a  satisfied  hum  breaks  the  hush,  george  leaning  back  to  survey  his  handiwork,   ❛   i  think  i’m  done.   ❜   contemplates  for  a  second  more,  before  stopping  her  before  she  can  move,   ❛   no,  wait                  ❜   tugs  a  daisy  free  from  a  cluster,  flyaway  strands  coming  loose  with  it  ;  stem  finds  its  perch  in  the  hole  where  ear  used  to  be,  flower  jutting  out  at  a  jaunty  angle,   ❛   now  i’m  done.   ❜ 

footsteps  trudged  along  the  stone  floor ,  the  traces  of  his  presence  echoed  around  him  -       𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲 ,  now  he  was  surrounded  by  more  people  than  he  had  ever  been  and  why  ?  not  even  he  could  answer  that  question  but  he  couldn’t  i g n o r e  the  call  .  .  .  nor  the  coin .  so  a  foreign  land  it  was ,  full  of  magic  ,  darkness  and  children .  turning  the  corner ,  he  stopped  short  of  a  small  person  before  him ,  a  grunt  escaping ,  followed  by  an  attempted  mumble  of  words  he’d  meant  as  a  𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞 .

dark  hues  fell  upon  the  child  in  front  of  him   ;   her  red  hair  striking  as  it  bobbed  around  her  dark  cloak .  he  shifted  on  his  feet  some ,  arms  crossing  over  his  chest .        ❛   thought  there  was  to  be  some  sort  of  𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐰  on  at  the  minute  .  .  .  or  does  that  not  apply  to  you  ,  g i r l  ?   ❜