#severalsunlitdaylights

loml

One accidental love confession text message sends Harry's friends into a tizzy trying to figure out who he was confessing his love to. Except, Harry didn't even realize he was confessing his love in the first place. Social media/Text fic AU

Written for Several Sunlit Daylights by @corneliaavenue-ao3

Ginny walked into Ron’s room and settled down against Harry’s knees. They’d sit like that often now. Close enough to find some comfort with each other, not close enough for someone to question it. She’d rest there on the floor against his legs and read a book or open a photo album. Sometimes she would pause and show him a funny photo. Of her, of Ron if her brother wasn’t paying attention and sometimes of Fred, silently and carefully. He’d look and squeeze her shoulder and then they’d go back to what they were doing. Together but apart.

Now Ron and Hermione were out as Ginny sat down on the floor. She rested her shoulder against his knee, facing him. He reached out to her cheek and caressed it softly. She leaned into it for a moment before her eyes landed on him.

“Happy first anniversary.”

Her words registered like an elastic band snapping. He knew it was today, he was painfully aware of it, but he had not expected her to say anything. Memories of funerals still raw, sleepless nights, wounds of the battle still healing... And after the last year, despite everything, she still said it.

He couldn’t help as his face crumbled, tears starting to well up. Regret, pain, grief mixed together with the relief, comfort and love he felt towards her. So much had happened in their world and to each other but they were both still here. Adjusting to the new reality, not knowing if the other cared if they came back. But they were both here, trying.

As she noticed his tears, she sat up on her knees, wedged between his legs now and she pulled him into her embrace. He couldn’t contain the tears, but he didn’t need to explain why they were there. His arms wrapped around her small waist, the curve of it still familiar under his hands. She settled against his body as he buried his face in her hair. The familiar scent of her shampoo soothed him. It smelled like home.

He pulled her up and her legs shifted, settling in his lap, her body still flush against him. As she heaved a heavy sigh, he knew she was crying too.

“I’m sorry,” he forced out of his throat.

He could feel her shake her head. He pressed a kiss against her temple, then nuzzled against it. Ginny’s breathing slowed and she sat up to meet his eyes, tears drying on her cheeks.

“We’re going to have happier anniversaries,” she said, determination setting in her soft brown eyes.

“Promise?” he asked.

'But unbidden into his mind came an image of that same deserted corridor with himself kissing Ginny instead…'

******

It was a new sensation, this urge, and Harry didn’t particularly enjoy it. In fact, he found it quite debilitating at times. For weeks he’d daydreamed away his first period, missing crucial Herbology notes he had to copy from Hermione later. He’d started taking an inordinate amount of bludgers at quidditch practice. So much so that McGonagall had kept him after class once to ask if he was feeling alright. Not to mention, he seemed to have lost any and all authority over certain...extremities.

It was mortifying.

I blame this entirely on @starlingflight who convinced me to write something for @corneliaavenue-ao3's TTPD fest Several Sunlit Daylights.

I guess I'm a Swiftie now??

Words: 1074

Read on AO3

Snippet:

The holding cells at the Ministry of Magic were down on level ten, near the courtrooms. It was an inconvenient distance from the Auror office, but one that Harry Potter had travelled many times before.

He hadn't been planning to travel the familiar path tonight, though. He’d been out at the pub, the Leaky Cauldron to be precise, when Dunn, one of the new first year trainees had appeared, out of breath and requesting his urgent presence at the Ministry.

“You’d better come too, Minister,” he’d said gravely to Kingsley as he drained his beer, but the Minister of Magic had shook his head with a too gleeful grin and clapped Harry firmly on the shoulder.

“Sounds like a job for the Head Auror to me.”

Harry grimaced at the reminder of his recent promotion, which had meant more paperwork and less time in the field, and tonight was surely to add to the pile of parchment waiting on his desk.

When they arrived in the atrium, he dismissed Dunn to return to her night shift post in the Auror office and made his way downstairs.

Two Magical Law Enforcement officers were waiting for him at the holding cells, not looking any more thrilled to be there than he was. 

“Quite a handful, this lot,” Jameson, the taller bloke muttered as he led the way.

Harry had no doubt they were.

For @corneliaavenue-ao3 and @severalsunlitdaylights!

Folklore: my tears ricochet

I didn't have it in myself to go with grace, Because when I'd fight, you used to tell me I was brave

Deathly Hallows angst with a sunny Half Blood Prince ending:

She knew he’d waited there for her, a safe enough distance away that he wouldn’t be discovered.  Ginny marched past him, each footfall an act of violence, heading straight into the dark chasm of Hogwarts’ halls. Warmth from the sinking sun had long since been extinguished, it deserting her too.  “You’ve got to stop challenging them like that,” Neville said for the fiftieth time. The ache lingered longer each time, bone deep, like being outside in a freezing rain. He thought she was being intransigent. Difficult for no reason. Reckless.  “And what? Roll over like a Plimpy and take it?” She tried to outpace him, but he caught up with her easily. “There’s a time and place, Ginny,” he said, sounding weary, yet desperate. “And getting tortured for mocking Alecto’s grammatical errors is not one of them.” “She wrote ‘Muggles cause displeases incurable by magic,’ Neville, disPLEASES… it was what she wrote just as much as the meaning behind it.”  “Still.” They’d reached the Fat Lady’s corridor. She stopped and faced him to say quietly, “It’s what he would do. It’s what he did. Against Umbridge.” “That was different.” “How?” She demanded in a whisper. For she was tired too. Tired of being contested. Of compromising under their fool’s tyranny.  It was after curfew. If they were caught in the halls, the Carrows would gladly inflict another punishment, yet Neville’s sympathetic expression hit just as hard. — Ginny threw her bag on the grass, and collapsed to the ground beside it. “Maybe I shouldn’t have hexed her, she’s just going to go squealing to McGonagall.”  “Bright side, if you get detention, maybe you can do it with me,” Harry said, casting an Imperturbable Charm around their cluster of trees before spreading out beside her.  “I doubt Snape will leave us alone that long.”  Harry laughed. He tilted his head back, looking flushed, and loosened his tie. Even after these last few weeks, his smiles lingered longer than before, like his face was building muscle memory.  She crawled over her bag and laid on her side too, facing him.  As with many other “firsts” in their relationship, she studied him - his eyes, his hands, his lips - for reassurance. And her first retaliatory hex seemed as important a milestone as any. He pushed her hair back, fingers combing through, until he was cradling her head in his hand.  And for the first time since lunch, she kissed him. Hooking her heel behind his knee, she pressed closer to him, basking in the comfort of him pressing back. “You’re tough…” he said against her lips a few minutes later, still smiling. “And brave… I like that about you.”

For the #severalsunlitdaylights & @corneliaavenue-ao3 challenge. Day 10:Midnights.

''Miss Weasley, please go ahead''- The High Inquisitor pointed to the seat in front of her.

She had heard from Fred and George, embroidery by embroidery, a detailed image of Professor Umbridge's office, and yet the descriptions did not honor the strangeness of being under the gaze of dozens of cats.

Ginny adjusted her robes and tried to remember the manners classes her mother and Aunt Muriel had insisted she attend as a child. Umbridge nodded, approving of the mimicry she was striving for. Chin forward, shoulders back, ankles crossed. The inquisitor maintained the carved smile. Challenging her to be the brave one to break that silence.

Tic Tac. The clock reverberating on the walls, Umbridge waited a few seconds before looking down and sliding a pink porcelain cup to its end.

"Sugar?" Umbridge asked and with a small wave of her wand, dropped three pink cubes into the cup. Ginny stoped chewing the gum in her mouth and reached over to took a small sip.

"Don't be shy," Umbridge smiled encouraging her to take another sip.

Ginny nodded. She had never tasted something like that. It felt strangely like home. The aroma of a conversation at the end of the school semester, at the kitchen table, laughing with her mother as she told her about…everything. Ginny drained her cup with a big slurp, suddenly forgetting about manners. After all, she was in what could be described as her home, having tea with an almost maternal figure. That was. Suddenly everything was crystal clear. Umbridge was a second mother to her who could tell her everything without fear or shame.

-''Precisely''- she smiled as if reading her thoughts- ''I want you to tell me everything.''

-'' I haven't done a single potions essay in my life. I copied all of Percy's old work'' - Ginny said

-'' My dear, we are not here to judge your lack of education '' - Umbridge gave a pause- ''Why don't we talk about your summer instead''

-''My summer?''- Ginny chewing her gum once again- ''Is it because I lied to Michael? I told him that Errol had crashed and lost his birthday present but I didn't buy him anything because I had no money. ''

-''Michael?'' - said the inquisitor starting to sound impatient- ''No, I don't care about that Michael of yours. Why dont we talk about Harry instead?. Did you spend the holidays together? Anywhere in particular? With someone in particular? Someone like Dumbledore perhaps''

-"Harry, that's the problem, isn't it?" Ginny said, raising the cup again and going for another drop of that elixir. "Everybody wants to talk about Harry, nobody wants to talk about Michael. Which is a shame. He likes me for who I am, isn't strange? Also delicate, but mostly strange. Because until now I have only felt like a monster ….

-'' Were or were not your relatives and Harry involved in a secret organization against the ministry? Are they now? That's how your dear father ended in St. Mungo, perhaps?''- Umbridge pressed.

-"Harry," Ginny said, looking at the cat behind the woman in pink. "He's a real problem, right?"

-'' He is. He is the problem. It's always him'' - The liquid went down her throat gently making it easier to articulate that forbidden phrase- ''Yes, we spent the holidays together. We usually do. Because of Ron, obviously. Just teenagers in a house, not talking that much. Actually, we argued this Christmas. I don't even remember why, but it was his fault. The prophet says it, so it must be right: he is the problem. Everybody agrees. Sometimes I think… I promised never to say it.''

"More tea." Umbridge refilled the cup and Ginny nodded, closing her eyes again to feel the fumes.

-'' Sometimes I think they're right. That he is the problem. Every time he leaves me on the side of one of his adventures and pretends that it is for my own good. The typical phrase that he camouflages. It's so annoying, to hear the covert narcissism he disguises as altruism. I swear sometimes he sounds like some kind of minister's office''

"Ahem," Umbridge coughed but Ginny straightened up, her fingers clenched around her mug.

-'' What adventures do they leave you out of? From some secret group? Of some resistance movement?''

-'' Or maybe the problem is me. Always rooting for the anti-hero''- said Ginny.

-'' Miss Weasley, answer. Is Mr.Potter organizing a secret group among students to overthrow the prime minister?''

Ginny could only laugh

-'' Sorry professor- Ginny said chewing the gum once again- No, he is not. But the other day I had this weird dream I didn't dare to tell anyone until now. I was at detention, in this very same room, only that instead of cats there were parrots and they were saying strange things like blood, quill, tea…''

-'' High Inquisitor, sorry to interrupt but Professor McGonagall is on her way''- Flich enter- ''She demands to know why one of her students was absent from class ...''

-'' Go away''-Umbridge stood up making the cup and sugar jars disappear- ''Quickly run to class and never mention about what we talk. That's what friends are for, right?''

Ginny nodded and grab her things finally breathing again.

Backpack in hand and excruciating pain in the head, Ginny somehow found her way back to the Great Hall for dinner.

-''You guys have to improve that anti-Veritaserum gum'' - Ginny sat next to Fred- ''My head is going to explode.''

"But did it work?" George asked.

-'' Yes, but only because I told him the truth that five years ago we all agreed that Harry is the problem.''

-'' Hi to you too''- Harry said coldly seating next to her.

-'' I mean just because you fix the problems you create that doesnt mean you….and…because… and for the record you cause a lot of trouble''

posted on ao3 & ffn

written for the #severalsunlitdaylights challenge by @ginwiz

Sounds of sleep rustled through the sixth year dormitory. Ron's rumbling snores, the groans of bedsprings as Dean rolled fitfully from one side to the next, the occasional word from a restless, mumbling Neville.

Having long since grown accustomed to having roommates, Harry was used to it all. He couldn't remember it bothering him once in six years.

Except for tonight.

Tonight every single sound grated against his ears. He'd tried pulling his curtains, draping his pillow over his ear, casting a muffliato. But then that buzzing sound aggravated him just as much.

Sleep just would not come.

And every second that passed made it harder to ignore why.

It wasn't the insignificant noises his dormmates made keeping him up. It was the argument being replayed over and over in his head, every word of it, and the image of a bright-faced, bright-haired Ginny Weasley whirling around and stomping away from him, angrier with him than she'd ever been.

Frustration and guilt mixed with his own anger in his stomach. Heaving a sigh, Harry slung his feet over the side of his bed and to the floor. He couldn't lay here all night and think about their fight. If he wasn't going to sleep he might as well start that Charms essay he'd been putting off. Or maybe he could sit in the common room and think about their fight.

Do me a favour and leave me the bloody hell alone!

He tensed up remembering the way she'd said it–not exactly a shout but loud enough to echo through his brain hours later. Another surge of emotions took over him, giving him the oddly specific urge to kick a tree. The common room was sorrowfully out of trees, so he wound up on the couch, glaring at the wall.

Nothing, Harry, there isn't a single other thing that I want from you.

What did that mean? His head fell into his hands, and he sat there, contemplating ripping his hair out, until he heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps to his right. He looked up quickly, hand flying to his wand, only to freeze at the sight of her. He felt his pulse quicken. She was loosely covered in thin pyjamas, feet bare and hair lazily pulled up–softly contrasting the fierceness of her posture.

He didn't say anything, didn't think he could if he tried, his tongue suddenly heavy in his mouth. Ginny stared back at him from the entrance to the girls' dormitories, shock and anger and stubbornness filling her gaze. He saw the moment she decided, the telltale tensing of her jaw before she stepped deeper into the room, finally breaking eye contact when she sat on the far end of the couch.

He didn't–couldn't–take his eyes off her, and she wouldn't say anything, so he watched as she did exactly what he'd been doing moments ago: trying to pick a fight with the wall.

He broke first, his patience wearing thin, finally snapping under the pressure of the tension in the room.

"Ginny," he said slowly. "What are you doing down here?"

She answered quickly, testament to the still-hot anger boiling underneath her skin. "Thought I'd come hang out in the common room, isn't that obvious?"

"In the middle of the night?"

"Yes."

"Do that often, do you?"

"All the time."

"Ginny."

"What?"

He ran his hand through his hair, a war raging inside of him–one side telling him he didn't do anything wrong, not really, and the other side reminding him that he'd handled the entire situation horribly, and would it really be worth it, losing her over this?

It wouldn't, he decided quickly, and blurted out, "Look. I'm sorry–"

"Yes, we covered that earlier, didn't we?"

His temper flared up again, and he would soon drive himself insane if he didn't just stick to one emotion.

"I am."

"Sorry for what exactly?"

"For–for–" His brain battled with the words he knew he should say.

"Exactly," she snapped at him. "Don't say things you don't mean. Don't apologise if you're not really sorry."

"I'm sorry for upsetting you!" he said earnestly.

She crossed her arms and looked away from him again. She would be almost scarily still if not for her leg, shaking mercilessly against the ground.

Anxiety and anticipation forced their way up his stomach and wrapped around his throat, choking the words out. "Look, if we're going to end things–"

"End things?" Her head swung back in his direction. "Is that what you want?"

"No! I thought that's what you–"

"Why would you think that?"

"Because!" he gestured aimlessly through the air. "We got into this stupid bloody fight!"

A variety of emotions shot out from behind her eyes, and Harry fell victim to them all.

"You know what?" she said finally, her voice steady and determined. "You're right. Maybe this isn't gonna work out."

A lot of things happened then at once–she stood up and walked away from him (again), his heart felt like it dived out his body and off the couch, his feet moved before his brain did, scrambling to get in front of her, his hands shot out and curled around her shoulders, needing her to stop moving.

"Ginny, wait," he asked desperately, deciding he'd do anything for this not to be it. It felt too easy, too soon.

"What, Harry?" For the first time she didn't sound sure. She sounded scared almost, shaky and resigned, and that gripped him as tightly as everything else.

Words, Potter, words, he thought to himself as she stared at him expectantly.

"I–why? If you weren't going to end things, then why–why wouldn't it work out?"

With a deep, resolving breath she curled her own hands around his wrists and moved them off of her, placing them back at his sides. Then she stepped away, and Harry thought his heart rate was increasing so fast it almost certainly couldn't be healthy. Because she was really doing this, this was really happening. He should have just stayed upstairs, at least delaying the inevitable. He should have prepared himself for this more. He should have known better than to think it would last at all. He should have–

"Harry." Then she took another unsettled breath, pushed her hair behind her ear. He wanted to close his eyes, thinking maybe it would hurt less if he didn't have to watch her do it, but looking away from her felt impossible. "I know…I know you…like me, or whatever, but–but I really like you, Harry. I mean, really, it's kind of embarrassing."

"I like you too, Ginny," he insisted, not understanding how they'd taken this turn, but feeling too relieved to ask. He took a small, tentative step forward. "I really, really like you."

But she was shaking her head. "It's not the same. You can't possibly like me the way I like you if all it takes is one fight for you to jump to a break up."

"I just thought–I was being a prat and an arsehole, and I thought you would come to your senses and realise that…" he trailed off, running out of words, not knowing how to finish his thought when it mattered most.

"We got into a fight, Harry!" she nearly yelled. "A stupid, solvable fight! That's what people do when they care about each other!"

"I wouldn't know!" he exclaimed, fighting to keep his voice from rising to a shouting-level. "I just–I suppose–I've never done this, had this before. And I–I wouldn't know."

Something shifted in her eyes, and he conflictingly felt both comforted and revolted by it. Comforted by the understanding and acceptance she seemed to convey, but revolted by the fact that it confirmed the pitiful fact that, in his entire life, he'd never had anyone to model what a healthy relationship would look like.

"Harry," she said again, softly this time, and it was truly pathetic the effect the sound of his name on her lips had on him. She tapered the distance between them, reaching out and twisting her fingers in his. He found he could breathe a little better after that.

Of its own accord, his head leaned down until his forehead was touching hers, and he felt her hand slip its way into his hair, tugging slightly. He kissed her, pulling her flush against him, afraid to loosen his touch, afraid to come close to losing her again.

She sighed into his mouth, pressing up to meet him, allowing him to deepen the kiss as her words rang through his mind over and over. I really like you, Harry. And he kissed her harder, until she made a small sound from the back of her throat that felt all too good and all too dangerous.

"Ginny," he whispered again as he broke the kiss, pulling her closer still, and burrowing his face into her neck.

Her fingers tightened against his hair, and he heard her mumble something about boys being stupid, and of course she had to pick the stupidest of them all.

Reluctantly, he pulled himself out of the hug so he could look at her to say, "I'm sorry for upsetting you earlier, Gin, I really am."

"No, Harry, it's okay, I probably overreacted."

"No," he protested, "I would have felt just as bad, if I'd gone up to you and you'd acted like–like an obnoxious prat and made it feel like you can't trust me."

"Do you?" she asked, ripping her gaze away. "Trust me."

"Yes," he answered with desperate fierceness. "Of course I do. It was just–I've been having these meetings with–"

Ginny, a sudden look flashing across her face, hurriedly slapped a hand over his mouth. "Don't. You don't have to tell me everything, Harry. We're both allowed to have our secrets. Merlin knows you especially, what with being the Chosen One and all that."

He hated how close she was to the truth. Hated that he had to keep this from her, hated that part of him wanted to keep it from her. He hated that he'd made it seem like he didn't trust her enough. He hated having her angry at him and hearing the hurt in her voice and hated that now she was letting him–letting him have his secrets that he needed to keep for the literal sake of the wizarding world.

"Gin–"

"Really you don't," she promised. "I just…I just felt a bit stupid because I hadn't seen you all day, so I was excited to come over and hang about with you lot, and when you just…acted all flustered and panicked and made it quite obvious that you didn't want me to know what you were talking about, I–well, I felt like a complete git because we hadn't had plans to hang out and maybe you just didn't miss me as much as I missed you. Or at least weren't very happy to see me. So I went mental and bit your head off and you didn't deserve all that."

"I did bloody well deserve it," he corrected before he barrelled on. "But, Gin, I want you to know that I really do trust you. It was just…Before you, I only ever had Ron and Hermione to talk to, and I suppose I'm still getting used to not having to shut up whenever someone comes by, or worry that we might be overheard. And when I saw it was you I behaved like the world's biggest arse because I didn't want you to think I don't trust you which only made it seem like I did.

"And, honestly," he went on, well aware they were both rambling, "what I was telling them, it's about this…theory that Dumbledore and I have been putting together, but we still don't much and he asked me specifically not to tell anyone else. And it's…"

"Harry," she interrupted, leaning up to press a kiss on his cheek. "It's okay. I knew what I was getting into, doing this with you."

"That's not fai-"

"What's not fair is you having the weight of the world on your shoulders."

"You deserve someone who-"

"Be very careful how you finish that sentence."

He sighed her name and closed his eyes. He didn't know how to form his thoughts into words. It was all a jumble of strong feelings overpowering one another. He wished he could just kiss her into understanding him, but the importance of having this conversation wasn't lost on him.

"I want to deserve you," he tried instead, switching course. "I shouldn't have acted like such a nutter earlier."

"You didn't act like a nutter, Harry." He raised an eyebrow. "Well, maybe a little bit, but not nearly as much as I did, pretending to lose my temper over one thing when my feelings were hurt over another. My entire family's involved in the Order, if you haven't noticed. I understand the importance of the mission, and what you mean to it. And I understand the importance of Ron and Hermione to you too. Don't go on feeling guilty for doing what you have to do."

"I would tell you if I could. You know that right?"

The look she gave him was the most honest look he'd ever received–openly thoughtful and searching, and she was so, so pretty. "I'm beginning to see that, yeah."

"Good," he said, finally feeling like he could breathe again. "Good."

"Yes, good," agreed Ginny. "So long as you don't go on trying to dictate what I deserve or telling me what I can or can't do."

"Not even I would be so reckless as trying to control you."

"Has the Great Harry Potter met his match?"

"I never stood a chance."

Then she smiled. Harry felt it in his toes and behind his ears and everywhere else, lighting him up, filling him with warmth.

She stood high on her tiptoes and held his cheeks in her hand, bringing her face close enough that their noses were touching. "How could you ever think you don't deserve me?" she mumbled. Then they were back to kissing, and Harry felt so light he could have imagined he was floating.

Her tongue tumbled into his mouth with surprising urgency that he was all too eager to return, kissing her in place until he heard that sound again. Then walking her backwards until they fell back on the couch, and they were both on their sides, her legs twining around his, and he felt his affection for her grow into something real, something tangible building inside him. His hands roamed her body as far as they could go, squeezing her tightly, urging her closer until he had to stop.

He said her name again as he gasped for air, and her hands moved around his neck, her face buried in his chest.

"Harry," she said after a couple minutes.

Her head lifted, their eyes met.

"We're going to fight. If we're in this. We will piss each other off."

"Okay," he nodded, finding her hand and squeezing. "I'm in this."

"Good. Me too."

"Thank Merlin."

She smiled softly and brought their joined hands to her face, letting her lips run over his knuckles. His thumb ran absentminded circles around her skin.

"I can't believe your best mates are Ron and Hermione and you thought one fight would do us in," she said finally.

His cheeks flushed, and he smiled back, slightly embarrassed. "That's different."

Ginny gave him a raised eyebrow and a knowing look.

"Okay, I suppose not that different."

She smiled, giving each of his fingers individual kisses now, and he suddenly felt the largest desire to pour his entire heart out to her, to tell her every thought he'd ever had.

He settled for: "But still different, you know? They know each other better than they know themselves. Most of the time I swear they just do it for fun, because they know it won't last very long, that neither of them are going anywhere. And it's mostly just small things they bicker over. Except for the Lavender debacle, but they've both figured that one out by now, it's only a matter of time at this point. And–my point is, you and I, we're still learning, aren't we?"

"Yes," she replied, eyes shining. "I suppose we are. But you should know, Harry, growing up with six brothers, I have a very high tolerance for bullshit."

He gave her a shining smile back. "Good to know. And I do. Miss you, I mean. You should know that too. What you said earlier, about seeming like I didn't miss you. Ginny, I think if you knew how much time I spent missing you, you'd call the mental hospital on me. It's ridiculous, really, how…happy I am to be with you. All the bloody time."

A microfic For the #severalsunlitdaylights by @corneliaavenue-ao3

~Sparks fly~

“The way you move is like a full on rainstorm

And I'm a house of cards

You're the kind of reckless that should send me running

But I kinda know that I won't get far

And you stood there in front of me just

Close enough to touch

Close enough to hope you couldn't see

What I was thinking of

Drop everything now

Meet me in the pouring rain

Kiss me on the sidewalk

Take away the pain

Cause I see sparks fly, whenever you smile

Get me with those green eyes, baby

As the lights go down

Gimme something that'll haunt me when you're not around

Cause I see sparks fly, whenever you smile”

One thing that Ginny understood, was that what they started wasn’t going to last that long. She caught it in his eyes, his green eyes in which she could get lost every time he gazed into her. She saw his lost sense of purpose on what the future might bring. Especially since he discovered a new future to look forward to. He slipped up one day about it, near the lake as they walked hand in hand.

“…I always adored the burrow, its the most amazing thing after Hogwarts really. Someday… we can have a place like that, you know with a big yard where we can play quidditch at and..”

-Ginny never pointed out how he said “we” not once but twice. However she couldn’t help but smile more than usual for a very ordinary future that harry had imagined for him, with her in it.

It would haunt her once he was gone, that memory. She would close her eyes and replay their conversations, His smile, and the sparks that flew when he touched her. Everywhere she went, all that which ran through her mind was their first kiss, then the second, the third, and more on, till their last.

So Ginny longed and dreamt for a day, where the rain would wash the war away, so that they can drop everything just to hold on to each other.