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Ginny Weasley
26 July 2027 @ 08:23 pm
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IT'S TRUE. SPOILERS GALORE.
FOR ORDER OF THE PHOENIX MOVIE AND THE DEATHLY HALLOWS

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.


Drabble TableCollapse )
 
 
Ginny Weasley
26 July 2010 @ 04:22 pm
In Honor (capital H) of Harry's birthday, a drabble. (It's early, don't judge.)

Laying in the grass in the backyard, Ginny watches her husband and sons throwing quaffles at each other like they're bludgers (boys, honestly) while tiny, little Lily runs around under them throwing it back up when they drop it. She seems to like her jobs so neither Ginny, nor Harry have said anything.

As the sun starts to set, painting the sky in a cacophony of pinks and blues and reds, Harry swoops down and gives Lily his broom, letting her chase her brothers with happy squeals of delight. Harry sits down and nudges Ginny with his knee. She smiles up at him happily.

"You ever think of having another one?" he asks her as they watch their children playing.

She looks at him closely, seeing the way his lips are pursed trying to hide a smile. "Harry, if you mention cows I'm going to hit you."

"I wasn't gonna say anything 'bout cows, Gin." He puts his hands up in defense, but she's smiling so he thinks he might be safe. "A holiday in Ireland, yeah, but not cows."

--

The next morning when he's prying his daughter off him, reminding her that it's just a week and she loves her grandparents, he winces when her tiny fingers grab right onto the bruise Ginny'd left on his arm.

It was on principle, she'd said.
 
 
MOOD: amusedamused
 
 
Ginny Weasley
03 August 2008 @ 02:42 am
She's sitting on the hall steps waving her wand in tiny little movements, shattering minature crystal balls into cascades of prism reflected rainbows and the glittering dust of glass. She's surrounded by it, sticking to her fingertips and across her skin like molten diamond and dewdrops.

Flecks of it have settled into her hair, shimmering like fire in the dim hall light, a phoenix among the ashes.

Her nearly inaudible murmur of 'reducto' falls silent inside another chime of shattered glass when she looks up, finding Harry watching her. He's standing in the doorway, silhouetted from behind like an eclipse. With one step forward he's soaked with light and her sun has come out again.

Her mouth tries to make a smile but she can tell by his eyes that she falls short and he stands in front of her for a moment before bending to wipe salt and dust off of her cheeks, the pad of his thumb resting along her jaw, fingers tangling through her hair and pressing against the nape of her neck. Tipping her head back, he brushes his lips against hers softly. Glittering dust clings to his mouth as he pulls back for breath.

"Gin..." He doesn't bother asking pointless questions, just settles down beside her, their knees and hips and elbows and shoulders pressed against each other.

Another crystal orb shatters with a silent flick of her wrist, blue silver crystal rain hitting the floor like pebbles hitting glass.

"I don't think--" she begins, putting her hands safely on her knees, securing her thoughts to herself, an anchor. "I don't think they understand how hard it is to be the ones that have lost, as opposed to the ones that have been lost."

They sit in silence for a long while, seconds winding into minutes into moments, but when he takes a breath before going to speak she shakes her head to silence him. "I lost you too, Harry."
 
 
MOOD: listlesslistless
 
 
Ginny Weasley
01 August 2008 @ 12:21 am

Happy Birthday, Harry. 

...God you're so old now, you wanker. I'll be needing to leave you for someone younger now, yeah?

 
 
Ginny Weasley
It was rare that Ginny Weasley went to the Ministry these days. It had been years, ages really, since the War and she still couldn't get over the bigotry and idiocy she'd seen contained within the walls.

She went when it was needed and nevermore.

She'd offered this time. She needed to fill out some sort of paperwork for something or other and to be perfectly honest she knew that they'd been waiting so long that neither she nor Harry actually remembered what it was.

Even without the blatant corruption, the Ministry still ran as worked as slow as her children did their summer homework -- always at the last minute and always with guaranteed whining. As if they hadn't had all summer to do it.

(Of course, their Weasley and Potter genes probably didn't help when they were stuck inside during a bright summer day.)

Regardless, she left Harry and the children in London and hurried through the Ministry. The paperwork (for a wand that had be replaced three years ago) was over quickly and Ginny had almost made it back to the queue when something caught her eye. It was nothing more than the flutter of an interoffice memo, but it hit the light just so to make it glitter like a thousand prophecies falling to the ground.

Perhaps just being there was what was stirring up old memories.

Taking a deep breath, Ginny turned on her heel, cursing herself for being so idiotic, and made her way to where they'd battled the Death Eaters when she was just a teenager. Trolling the halls she remembered everything that had gone on down there, everything they'd been through that no one except them could really imagine. They were only kids.

She peeked through the doors, seeing the bell, the brains, the aftermath of the prophesy room. She didn't go into the room with the veil, she wasn't a masochist, and when she stopped her stroll down memory lane she found herself in front of the door she knew wouldn't open.

It was that room. The one no one ever talked about because it contained a power stronger than anything else in the world.

... But well, she was still a Weasley.

Tucking her hair behind her ears she put her hand on the doorknob. This could end terribly. Turning the doorknob she pushed and to her surprise the door swung freely. Stepping through it, she was surprised to find herself on the street in London.

"Gin! Over here!"

Turning, she found the person calling to her and hurried over to her husband. Maybe that was why no one knew what was behind that door, because they didn't know what they had. Even if it was right under their noses.
 
 
 
 
Ginny Weasley
04 February 2008 @ 12:47 am
Ginny Potter was walking down the street, fresh from handing in a brilliant article to the editor of the Daily Prophet when she stopped dead in her tracks. What was this?

Some bitch had stolen her face. As Harry would say, really foul dark magic was about.

Oh no. It was just some unoriginal crackpot who thought she could climb in Harry Freakin' Potter's pants by wearing her face.

Please.

Ginny rolled her eyes and stepped closer to the women who was obviously under the influence of polyjuice. And Ginerva Weasley Potter roundhouse kicked her to the frontal lobe.

"Step off my husband, crack whore."

Yeah, bounce catch that. Bitch what.
 
 
Ginny Weasley
28 January 2008 @ 12:48 am
"... What's that supposed to be?"

"It's a unicorn, Gin."

Ginny looked at her brother and scoffed. She was seven and she scoffed at him. "Doesn' look like a unicorn," she told him with a tone she'd adopted from their mother.

It did actually look like a very nice unicorn, it was silver and it had a horn that looked swirly like an ice cream cone. But she was seven, she knew the rules. This was her brother; she couldn't very well compliment him on something when she could insult him. Yes, Fred and George had taught her well.

They were also in the room making sure she did well at the new Weasley Rules they had just explained to her.

Flashing them a smile behind Ron's back, she watched as they grinned back and then headed back into the kitchen.

"I like it," she told Ron in a conspiratorial whisper.

He blinked at her, confused with her complete 180. "What?"

"I like it."

"... really?"

"Yeah."

Eight year old Ron held out the crayoned drawing and Ginny took it with a smile before running up the stairs to hang it on her wall. Fred and George may have had their Weasley Rules, but Ginny had her 'Best Baby Sister in the World Rules'.
 
 
Ginny Weasley
08 December 2007 @ 03:57 am
Tis the Season and all that! Let's have some fun before pre-Christmas retail and planning drives us all batty And since we all know it's better to give than to receive...

Post the name of your character here and Ginny will give you a Christmas gift! I'll write what she gives you and how she gives it to you!
 
 
 
Ginny Weasley
29 November 2007 @ 06:58 am
[Let's call this a thought process. If you don't recognize the lyrics I will mentally beat you.]

They'd lost so much in the Second War, families and friends and lovers, all disappearing into a starless night, quickly becoming shells only held on by memories. Fifty students, classmates and friends, countless Aurors, members of the DA, members of the Order, dead. All dead. There's a list of names, she knows where it is, but she's never had the courage too look, it would hurt so much more to see their names scrawled in black ink on a piece of parchment. Like maybe if she ignored it long enough it would become a nightmare and one day she would wake up. It wasn't a nightmare, and she couldn't wake up from it.

Living is easy with your eyes closed.

So she just kept going. Comparatively, to people who'd lost their entire families, to Harry and little Teddy, she hadn't lost much- but Fred was more than enough for her. Her sweet, gentle, and horridly overprotective brother. Merlin, she missed him.

Misunderstanding all you see.

But she just kept going. Slowly things started to go back to what could be considered normal, because everyone knew normal was never going to come again. It was long gone. The school was repaired, shops rebuilt, people returned to the safety of their homes and life went on. It hurt, but it went on. Life had a funny way of doing that.

It's getting hard to be someone but it all works out.

It just kept going. People who were thought to be gone forever returned, traitors turned tail and returned home, Ginny and Harry 'reunited' in a tangle of legs and laughs-fitting right back into the nook they'd left.

Nothing is real.

Years went by and memories faded, more pictures were brought out because it hurt more to forget then it did to remember. New memories were created, graduations and promotions, first steps and first kisses, weddings and births, deaths and funerals, highs and lows as usual.

Let me take you down, because I'm going.

But then the New War came. Memories, seemingly lost forever resurfaced young and bright and gloriously real, hugging became the new handshake. No one knew what was going to stay; living life to the fullest became the new course of action. Seize the day, seize life.

Always know sometimes I think it's me

But she just kept going, kept fighting. Battles were won and lost on both sides. Families reunited and were torn apart, every day was a new casualty. Another classmate, friend, lover, mentor- gone. And Ginny wished, over and over and over again, that it was just a dream. It never was. She wasn't strong enough, she couldn't do it, she couldn't keep going, but people needed her.

But you know I know when it's a dream

So she just kept going. Her world was flipped upside down, inside out, every which way but right. Tigers showed their stripes, hopes and faiths were destroyed, blood was shed for nothing more than some archaic idea to power was stronger than love.

I think I know I mean yes, but it's all-wrong.

It just kept going. People died. Aurors, death eaters, innocents, all dead- for the cause. Ginny watched feeling helpless, fighting her own battles, watching the people she loved fighting, losing, dying, which she watched.

That is I think I disagree.

And then the war was over. It stopped. Life kept going, but the war stopped. The school was repaired, shops rebuilt, people returned to the safety of their homes, orphans found families, families found more family and life went on. It hurt, but it went on. Life has a funny way of doing that.

It won't be long...
 
 
MOOD: thoughtfulthoughtful