August 20, 2019, 11:30:14 PM

Author Topic:  All I really want is something beautiful to say [Ginny]  (Read 80 times)

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Harry Potter [ Order of The Phoenix ]
9 Posts  •  Twenty-One  •  Heterosexual  •  played by Dylan
All I really want is something beautiful to say [Ginny]
« on: July 13, 2019, 07:29:39 PM »
Harry and Ginny's Flat | December 2002

Harry had been thinking of weddings all day—likely because he was at one. He had been attending the wedding of Ginny’s friend and teammate, Morwen, to a daily prophet photographer named Serikbek. The wedding was beautiful, of course. It was very touching, even though Harry wasn’t very familiar with either of them. He had enjoyed dancing with Ginny at the reception, but couldn’t help thinking of the ring that he had left at home. The ring that was meant for Ginny. The whole wedding, he was wondering what his own wedding would be like. Would it be equally grand? He hoped it would be small, just family and a few friends. He didn’t want the entire world there, but he wanted it to be nice. Given that he was Harry Potter and Ginny was a famous quidditch player in her own right, he expected there to be several people who expected and invitation who might not get one. Reporters, for one. Would he trust Serikbek to keep his camera to himself, if they invited Morwen and her new husband? He was sure they’d invite them regardless. After-all, Ginny had been Morwen’s maid of honor—that meant they were close, right? Harry already knew Ron would be his Best Man. He wondered who Ginny would choose…
That was assuming she said yes. He had a feeling she would. They had talked about marriage before, always in the distant future, but Harry was ready to get serious now. He didn’t want there to be another chance for them to break up, like they had before. He wanted them to stay together and be happy. Forever. He had planned a vacation—something he had never taken since he began Auror training—and meant to ask her while they were abroad. They were going to Australia, where it was warm and beachy this time of year. He preferred the warmth and thought Ginny might prefer a summertime vacation as well. He eyed her up as they changed out of their wedding clothes into their night clothes. She was so gorgeous, really. He was super lucky. They had a portkey to catch early in the morning, so Harry was doing some packing. He had grabbed his clothes, toiletries with exception to his toothbrush, which he would grab after his morning brush, shoes… what else did he need?
He suddenly remembered the ring. He tried to be stealthy, reaching into his nightstand for the box and trying to look like he was grabbing some more socks. Of course, when he turned around, he tripped and fell, the box moving across the floor and into Ginny’s line of sight. He scrambled up and then attempted to pounce on it, only moving the box closer to Ginny. He hoped she wasn’t looking, but there was a fat chance of that. As it was, he was already on his knees. This wasn’t the way he expected this to go, not at all…
T h e y   w i l l   n o t   f o r c e   u s ;   t h e y   w i l l   s t o p   d e g r a d i n g   u s

T h e y   w i l l   n o t   c o n t r o l   u s ;   w e   w i l l   b e   v i c t o r i o u s

Ginny Weasley [ Order of The Phoenix ]
20 Posts  •  21  •  Heterosexual  •  played by Olivia
Re: All I really want is something beautiful to say [Ginny]
« Reply #1 on: July 23, 2019, 02:26:12 AM »
Her heeled shoes dangled loosely in her grasp; with her free hand, Ginny had gathered a handful of her dress as she hobbled up the stairs to their bedroom – content, but thoroughly exhausted. They’d just gotten home from Wen’s wedding – in which she’d been the Maid of Honor – and the entire day of standing in heels had caught up to the Quidditch player. Granted, she’d ditched them almost as soon as the dancing began, but the damage had already been done. She simply wasn’t used to wearing them, and spending the rest of the evening on her feet dancing around certainly hadn’t helped her case. Perhaps she’d soak them for a bit (they were undoubtedly filthy from going barefoot most of the evening, anyways) and demand request that Harry rub her feet and calves for a bit before they turned in for the night. In any case, she couldn’t wait to get ready for bed. Especially because they had an early Portkey…

The very first things that the youngest Weasley did whenever she got home were 1) immediately change out of her day clothes into something comfortable (usually sweats or a casual t-shirt and shorts), and 2) take off all her makeup (if she’d even worn it that day). Tonight was no different: in true Ginny fashion, the second she’d set foot in their bedroom she’d tossed her shoes in the closet, stripped off her dress and laid it over the back of a chair to remind herself to take it in for cleaning, pulled an oversized t-shirt over her head, and padded into the bathroom to wash up – all in a matter of fifteen seconds.

Ginny’s first order of business was to remove what she was confident was an entire boxful of bobby-pins from her thick red mane – did being in the bridal party directly equate to having more metal than hair in contact with her scalp?! As though it were yesterday, she recalled the day’s preparations for Bill and Fleur’s wedding; then, too, she’d had handfuls of the infuriating things jabbing the sides of her head in vain attempt to contain her hair. And, in both instances, it had mostly managed to spring free of its constraints within an hour of the reception’s commencement. Ginny may or may not have tossed her head about more aggressively than was necessary while she danced to facilitate the process…

As she worked, she replayed the day’s events in her head. Wen had been stunning, of course, and Beka handsome. The ceremony was really just perfect, and even Ginny – who was infrequently sentimental in a public setting – had been faintly misty-eyed as she stood beside her long-time friend and teammate. Ginny’s heart was full for the pair of them; but at the same time she couldn’t help projecting into the future, picturing that it was she in the white dress, hand-in-hand with Harry. Looking back, it was crazy to think that – for several years – Ginny had been nearly convinced this would never have been possible.
Early on it had been ‘the famous Harry Potter would never like me’; which had evolved to ‘I’ll do my own thing and see what happens’; to ‘holy shit we actually have a shot at this’; to ‘will I ever see him alive again?’; to the resulting destabilization and ‘will things ever be quite the same again?’
In any case, she’d long-since decided that this past breakup a few months ago would be their last. It was difficult for two young adults who’d been forced to grow up fast during wartime to find a sense of stability, certainly – but now was the time. They would need to be their own and, just as importantly, each other’s. In her heart of hearts, Ginny felt like they’d finally grasped that understanding, together.

She was preoccupied with disentangling a particularly stubborn pin (somehow it had managed to wedge into another pin and trap a snarled knot of hair in between…) when she heard a considerable clattering and thumping coming from their bedroom. Glancing in the mirror, she could barely see his reflection scrambling around on the ground, closely followed by the sound of something light briefly skidding across the floorboards.

Ginny turned away from the mirror, eyebrow raised, both hands still engaged in the tangled mess of her hair.
What in the name of Merlin’s saggy left—?”
Her gaze landed immediately on Harry, on his knees and wearing an expression of abject horror. Her forehead creased briefly with confusion, rapidly followed by a wave of concern. Her first panicked thought was that his scar hurt; her stomach dropped like a stone.
“Harry? You alright?”
She took a step toward him, and in so doing her bare toe connected with something small and solid but light, sending it rather forcefully across the floor and mirroring the sound she’d heard just a few seconds before. Instinctively, she glanced down – but before she could properly lay eyes on whatever it was, it had already vanished under the nightstand.

“Whoops,” she muttered, her gaze briefly lifting to meet his. “What was that?”
« Last Edit: August 02, 2019, 01:26:30 AM by Olivia »
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backseat serenade, dizzy hurricane
oh, god, I’m sick of sleeping alone
you’re salty like a summer day, kiss the sweat away, to your radio


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