Fic - Theories (Ginny) pg, 1/1
Title: Theories
Summary: The days kind of bleed and mend together, a concession of sorts as she fumbles around this brand new place and the brand new version of herself she's trying to create.
Rating: pg
Author's Notes: 389 words. Harry Potter/Friday Night Lights crossover. Same universe as Inconsistencies. Written for lexiesloan . All mistakes are mine. These characters, however, are not. Con-crit is both welcome and appreciated.
Two months in, maybe three, and out of all the things she hasn't grown accustomed to yet, she still can't get over how bloody cold it gets here at night.
Ginny blows a wisp of hair out of her face and rolls the barely touched beer bottle between the palms of her hands. She'd cut it yesterday -- or the day before maybe, the days kind of bleed and mend together, a concession of sorts as she fumbles around this brand new place and the brand new version of herself she's trying to create. Long, flowing locks replaced with sharp edges and angles and she tries so very hard not to miss the weight of it on the back of her neck.
(There is this theory, you see.
One she has about change and trying to forget and she tries desperately to change all the tiny things, one or two bits and pieces of herself here and there in an effort to erase the person she was and all the things she still carries with her.
It's a fruitless effort, but Ginny's always been something in the way of stubborn, so.)
"So," she drawls lazily, "You're a bit of a big deal around here, aren't you?"
That grin, full of teeth with the edges of his mouth curling upwards and she leans in and smiles something similar to the one she picked up from Fleur somewhere along the way. A smile full of teasing and teeth. A smile she's never really found a use for before now.
"When I'm winning maybe," he shrugs, lips molding around the neck of his beer as he takes a sip.
"Do you ever not win?"
He leans in, hair catching his face and there's something beautiful about the way he smiles. "Not really, no."
There's a moment, maybe, where they look at each other for a beat too long and she supposes that this is where she should lean in across the table, head cocked to the side and say something similar to let's get out of here, but it passes too soon.
Instead, the chair creaks underneath her when she leans back, the plastic cold against the back of her legs and she burrows deeper into herself on reflex.
(She's not ready to change everything just yet.)
Summary: The days kind of bleed and mend together, a concession of sorts as she fumbles around this brand new place and the brand new version of herself she's trying to create.
Rating: pg
Author's Notes: 389 words. Harry Potter/Friday Night Lights crossover. Same universe as Inconsistencies. Written for lexiesloan . All mistakes are mine. These characters, however, are not. Con-crit is both welcome and appreciated.
Two months in, maybe three, and out of all the things she hasn't grown accustomed to yet, she still can't get over how bloody cold it gets here at night.
Ginny blows a wisp of hair out of her face and rolls the barely touched beer bottle between the palms of her hands. She'd cut it yesterday -- or the day before maybe, the days kind of bleed and mend together, a concession of sorts as she fumbles around this brand new place and the brand new version of herself she's trying to create. Long, flowing locks replaced with sharp edges and angles and she tries so very hard not to miss the weight of it on the back of her neck.
(There is this theory, you see.
One she has about change and trying to forget and she tries desperately to change all the tiny things, one or two bits and pieces of herself here and there in an effort to erase the person she was and all the things she still carries with her.
It's a fruitless effort, but Ginny's always been something in the way of stubborn, so.)
"So," she drawls lazily, "You're a bit of a big deal around here, aren't you?"
That grin, full of teeth with the edges of his mouth curling upwards and she leans in and smiles something similar to the one she picked up from Fleur somewhere along the way. A smile full of teasing and teeth. A smile she's never really found a use for before now.
"When I'm winning maybe," he shrugs, lips molding around the neck of his beer as he takes a sip.
"Do you ever not win?"
He leans in, hair catching his face and there's something beautiful about the way he smiles. "Not really, no."
There's a moment, maybe, where they look at each other for a beat too long and she supposes that this is where she should lean in across the table, head cocked to the side and say something similar to let's get out of here, but it passes too soon.
Instead, the chair creaks underneath her when she leans back, the plastic cold against the back of her legs and she burrows deeper into herself on reflex.
(She's not ready to change everything just yet.)