Confessions
Title: Confessions
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Ginny/Luna
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None
Length: 2505
Spoilers: None, really. I pretty much disregard any forms of cannon.
Summary: The Sorting Hat had said that Gryffindors were known for their courage.
AN: This is actually a really old, old thing. I don't think it's my best, but I do think that it's adorable in its own way.
---
Luna…I like you.
In her mind, it was the simplest thing to say. Her mouth, however, seemed to disagree. Ginny Weasley swallowed the massive lump of anxiety that had seemed to have collected in her throat and looked across the library table she was sitting at to see Luna Lovegood, peacefully leaning on the edge of her chair while reading the latest issue of The Quibbler, which had a few oddly shaped vines growing out of her current page. Her wand was tucked snugly behind her right ear (adorned with an orange, triangle-shaped earring that looked suspiciously like a carrot, and did not at all go with the owl feather tied around some strands of hair near her left, earringless ear) and Ginny didn’t have to look under the table to know that the blonde was wearing a random assortment of mismatched shoes and socks.
Really, the reasonable section of Ginny’s mind told her for the umpteenth time, you’re worried that she’ll think you’re weird?
Ginny internally told her logic to shut-up thank-you-very-much so that she could continue with her paranoia.
Tell her, you dolt, and Ginny didn’t even consider the oddity of having an argument with herself before launching back an insult that would have made Molly Weasley’s hair straighten.
Really, how does one admit something like this anyway? ‘Luna, I’ve had a huge, secret lesbian crush on you since I met you in First Year’ seemed a little too blunt, Ginny reasoned.
‘By the way, Luna, I’d totally go gay for you’ also didn’t seem like a very good idea. On anybody else, that method would be great for a laugh at their look of utter shock. But, try as she might, Ginny just couldn’t quite picture Loony Luna Lovegood surprised enough to even raise her eyebrow, much less drop her jaw and stupidly mutter ‘wha-?’, which was probably the reaction that comment would bring to anybody else. Either way, that remark probably wouldn’t work too well either.
Ginny briefly considered just breaking down and telling Luna exactly what she sometimes thought of them doing together late at night when she was the only one awake in her dormitory to see her own freckled hand descending down her stomach and underneath the waistline of her pyjama pants and… Well.
Even though that scenario could prove to be quite entertaining, Ginny could tell (without her damn logic butting in, thank-you) that the idea had less than a snowball’s chance in Hell of getting her anything more than a blank stare. For starters, how was Ginny supposed to start spewing an X-rated fantasy to Luna when she couldn’t even muster up the courage to tell the blonde how she felt? She also had first-hand knowledge of Madame Pince’s unfortunate habit of walking into a conversation just when she was least wanted, and that really did seem like a mood-killer. So…that strategy was out as well.
Realistically thinking, Ginny would probably just spit it out quickly-almost too quickly to be understood-and then begin to babble about something totally irrelevant, such as how cute those earrings (earring, technically) looked on Luna, while she was stumbling and stuttering over mispronounced words.
The Sorting Hat had said that Gryffindors were known for their courage. Well, fuck that.
The only thing Ginny knew was that she really did have to tell Luna the truth. Soon. Rejection Ginny could handle pretty well (‘Fat chance'; Ginny swatted her hand at the thought as if there was a fly in the room), but she hated this state of not knowing anything. It was driving her insane. Ginny’s mind-particularly her suddenly overly-romanticized imagination-seemed to be working in extreme overtime whenever she shared a class with Luna, and her class-work was paying for it.
Like, just the other day, Ginny had been staring at this crack in the ceiling, (which Luna had told her looked rather like the profile of a Nargle) having one of those silly wedding-day fantasies that she hadn’t had since she was eight-although those had considerably more dark hair, glasses, and lightning-shaped-scars and considerably less silky blonde hair, silver-blue eyes, and…brides. She was interrupted by a Ravenclaw boy-who was short, tan, and had a name that Ginny could never seem to remember no matter how often she heard it-tapping her on the shoulder. “What’s wrong?” he asked as if they were childhood friends rather than next-to-strangers. “You usually seem to enjoy Transfiguration.”
Of course, the only practical response Ginny could think of at the moment was, “…We’re in Transfiguration?” Yeah. That was about the time she had decided to tell Luna how she felt and put her mind at ease.
But, that took Ginny in a huge circle and right back to her original problem. How the hell am I supposed to tell her? At that thought, Ginny felt a single bead of nervous sweat run down her neck, which was a little ridiculous, she supposed, since it was only mid-January.
Ginny really, really hoped that she looked as inconspicuous as she didn’t feel as she fixed her gaze on a bit of dust on the table she was sitting at. She began to mentally work out what she was going to say to the blonde. Ginny had never really been one for words, generally letting her actions speak for themselves since they seemed to do a much better job at it than she could. But this time, she really wanted to make an impression on the girl sitting across from her-the very girl who somehow made conversations about Dung-Hurling Flynx seem positively enamoring.
Ginny’s master plan: use small, simple words and try not to make a complete arse out of herself. She clenched her jaw, wishing that the words would come out on their own accord, but, of course, that didn’t happen. She inwardly sighed; this was it.
Ginny moved her eyes upward from the speck of dust on the table (that was shaped oddly similar to the three-petal flower Luna was wearing in her hair yesterday) that she had fixed her attention on before and was planning to make eye contact with Luna, who…was no longer sitting in the chair across from Ginny.
She was sure that every single hair on her body was stood on end when she felt a hot sigh on the back of her neck, and she mentally congratulated herself for not jumping ten feet into the air and squealing, as was her first instinct. Luna released another dreamy breath into the nape of Ginny’s neck and wrapped her arms around the redhead’s shoulders as calmly and naturally as if she had done this everyday of her life (and she was Loony Lovegood, so maybe she had). Ginny, however, wasn’t quite as comfortable with the new seating arrangements, “Luna, what exactly are you doing over here?”
“I’m reading,” Luna’s tone indicated that Ginny should have already known that. “You hadn’t turned the page for nearly an hour so I assumed it was interesting.”
Ginny looked at the book that was, indeed, resting open in her hands (when did that get there?). She suppressed another squeak, her blood running cold, then very, very hot as she felt the blonde giggle into the back of her neck at a grouping of words that, apparently, she found to be funny.
“This really is good,” Luna said after another few minutes of silence; she didn’t show any signs of potentially moving from her current position wrapped around Ginny anytime soon. “What’s it called?”
Ginny opened her mouth and then paused, realizing that she had no idea which book she had grabbed from the shelves. “Erm…” and looking at the cover now would just lead to other questions, “Domesticating Wild Creatures…?” Though, thankfully, Luna didn’t seem to notice or acknowledge the totally-not-subtle crack in Ginny’s voice. The Gryffindor was about to mentally dance around and give herself a high-five for the quick save when she heard:
“Oh?” …and dammit she had picked the wrong subject; the book was on potions, wasn’t it? Now Luna would be able to connect the dots and figure out Ginny’s secret, wouldn’t she? And then it would be all over and Luna would laugh at her and tell the entire school and Ginny wouldn’t have anybody left to turn to for help and- “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of that book before.”
Ginny cleared her throat, hoping that some of her apprehension would leave with the gesture, and said, “No wonder; it’s bloody terrible. I was just about to put it away.” Ginny quickly got up, picked up the book, and walked over to the bookshelf, equally happy for the opportunity to hide the incriminating book and sad for the loss of feeling Luna’s arms wrapped around her.
After reshelving the book, Ginny turned around to see that Luna had pulled up a second chair near her own-very near, actually. Two of the chairs’ legs were touching and did that mean Ginny and Luna’s legs would also-“Ginny, are you feeling well?” -and damn she had been staring again.
Ginny sat down on her chair (and yes, their legs were brushing each other’s every few seconds, and did Luna want that to happen or was Ginny freaking the other girl out, and she should probably stop swinging her leg to increase the contact but it just felt so good) and put a smile on her face that she hoped didn’t look as forced as it felt. “Yes, Luna, I’m fine.”
“Oh?” And Luna was using that same disbelieving tone of voice that she had used earlier, and Ginny was half convinced that she could read minds while her other half (which was probably her damn logic acting up again) figured that this was just Luna’s way of showing that she accepted what was being said, rather than saying ‘okay’ or ‘yes’ like most people. But Ginny didn’t know which half to believe, because when one is talking to Loony Luna Lovegood they can never be entirely sure if she’s even having the same conversation, much less what her responses mean.
And although Ginny would have been more than happy to leave the conversation at that, apparently her mouth, once again, disagreed, “Luna I-” …And Ginny would have slapped her hand against her mouth in horror but she figured that would be rather uncouth of her, and it wouldn’t have accomplished much since her traitorous voice had died off in a pathetic, high-pitched squeak after spilling the first few words of her confession.
Luna, I like you.
Ginny decided that her voice, which seemed to have transfigured itself into a formidable lump in the pit of her stomach, wasn’t going to be of much help right now. Ginny briefly considered acting her feelings out through a small game of charades, which Luna would undoubtedly enjoy, but she figured that this sort of thing really shouldn’t be expressed by her wordlessly waving her arms around like a fool if that could at all be avoided. And besides, Ginny probably could talk, she just really, really didn’t want to. She also had the sneaking suspicion that anything she tried to say would turn into a mangled word that had not yet been added to the English dictionary.
“Uhrm…” And Ginny would have smacked herself if she wasn’t so sure that the blonde sitting next to her already doubted the redhead’s sanity (that makes two of us). Ginny tried to continue the ‘thought’-which was more of a nonsensical syllable-but felt as if her tongue had been tied into that slipknot that Luna had showed her over the summer two years ago.
Luna looked into Ginny’s eyes in a manner that could only be described as a bizarre combination of expectance and patience. The Ravenclaw crossed her legs and marked her page in the magazine with the owl feather she had pulled from her hair. With that, Ginny was, without a doubt, sure that unless she somehow mustered up some courage and spoke her mind, the two of them would be sitting in the (suddenly very uncomfortable) library chairs all throughout the night and well into their morning classes. Ginny shot back what she hoped was a drop-it-and-leave-it-alone type of look, already knowing that the blonde would read it as an I’m-sorry-and-I’ll-tell-you-anything-you-want-to-know expression.
“Luna, I-” …Wow. Amazing. She’d almost gotten three words out this time. How long had they been sitting there, just staring at each other, now? Ginny wasn’t entirely sure, but by now it was considerably darker and most of the other students had left the library. Luna bit her lower lip and Ginny nearly missed the briefest trace of a smile cross the Ravenclaw’s lips. Nearly. And Ginny’s legs had probably melted into the goo that she had accidently made in Potions last week, but she wouldn’t really know since she was still sitting motionless, rather like a statue, transfixed with staring into the sapphire eyes inches in front of her own.
“Luna, I really like you,” and oh shit she’d actually said that out loud and now everything was going to get all fucked up because they were supposed to be friends and straight and loyal and straight and witches and straight and successful and straight. And was Ginny blushing? …She probably was. Her cheeks felt as if someone could burn themselves simply by laying a finger on them, and their colour probably rivaled her very own Weasley Hair-itage. And all of those second-rate romance novels where a character’s heart skipped a beat? Yeah, well, Ginny was sure that her heart, which happened to be working in super-mega-ultra-overtime mode at the moment, had beaten more than enough times to compensate for their loss.
Ginny wasn’t babbling was she? …Yes, she was. And she must’ve sounded like she was barking mad and what could she have even been talking about for all that time and she really needed to shut up because she was making an arse of herself just like she’d hoped not to but her damn mouth just won’t seem to stop moving and why was Luna’s smile growing and why was she looking at Ginny as if the redhead was the latest issue of The Quibbler (still laying, forgotten, on the table) and why-
“That’s rather adorable,” and that comment seemed to shut Ginny up within milliseconds due to the shock, minor indignity at being called ‘cute’, and inexplicable urge to have the compliment repeated.
Luna giggled at a joke only she understood before reaching her hand up and shutting Ginny’s gaping lips (which had apparently been hanging open, like an idiot, ever since they stopped their rambling) with her forefinger. “I was wondering when you would get around to actually telling me. You really are horrible at being subtle, Ginny.”
And Ginny was about to protest-she really was-but was, once again, silenced, this time by Luna leaning forward and closing the distance between the two.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Ginny/Luna
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None
Length: 2505
Spoilers: None, really. I pretty much disregard any forms of cannon.
Summary: The Sorting Hat had said that Gryffindors were known for their courage.
AN: This is actually a really old, old thing. I don't think it's my best, but I do think that it's adorable in its own way.
---
Luna…I like you.
In her mind, it was the simplest thing to say. Her mouth, however, seemed to disagree. Ginny Weasley swallowed the massive lump of anxiety that had seemed to have collected in her throat and looked across the library table she was sitting at to see Luna Lovegood, peacefully leaning on the edge of her chair while reading the latest issue of The Quibbler, which had a few oddly shaped vines growing out of her current page. Her wand was tucked snugly behind her right ear (adorned with an orange, triangle-shaped earring that looked suspiciously like a carrot, and did not at all go with the owl feather tied around some strands of hair near her left, earringless ear) and Ginny didn’t have to look under the table to know that the blonde was wearing a random assortment of mismatched shoes and socks.
Really, the reasonable section of Ginny’s mind told her for the umpteenth time, you’re worried that she’ll think you’re weird?
Ginny internally told her logic to shut-up thank-you-very-much so that she could continue with her paranoia.
Tell her, you dolt, and Ginny didn’t even consider the oddity of having an argument with herself before launching back an insult that would have made Molly Weasley’s hair straighten.
Really, how does one admit something like this anyway? ‘Luna, I’ve had a huge, secret lesbian crush on you since I met you in First Year’ seemed a little too blunt, Ginny reasoned.
‘By the way, Luna, I’d totally go gay for you’ also didn’t seem like a very good idea. On anybody else, that method would be great for a laugh at their look of utter shock. But, try as she might, Ginny just couldn’t quite picture Loony Luna Lovegood surprised enough to even raise her eyebrow, much less drop her jaw and stupidly mutter ‘wha-?’, which was probably the reaction that comment would bring to anybody else. Either way, that remark probably wouldn’t work too well either.
Ginny briefly considered just breaking down and telling Luna exactly what she sometimes thought of them doing together late at night when she was the only one awake in her dormitory to see her own freckled hand descending down her stomach and underneath the waistline of her pyjama pants and… Well.
Even though that scenario could prove to be quite entertaining, Ginny could tell (without her damn logic butting in, thank-you) that the idea had less than a snowball’s chance in Hell of getting her anything more than a blank stare. For starters, how was Ginny supposed to start spewing an X-rated fantasy to Luna when she couldn’t even muster up the courage to tell the blonde how she felt? She also had first-hand knowledge of Madame Pince’s unfortunate habit of walking into a conversation just when she was least wanted, and that really did seem like a mood-killer. So…that strategy was out as well.
Realistically thinking, Ginny would probably just spit it out quickly-almost too quickly to be understood-and then begin to babble about something totally irrelevant, such as how cute those earrings (earring, technically) looked on Luna, while she was stumbling and stuttering over mispronounced words.
The Sorting Hat had said that Gryffindors were known for their courage. Well, fuck that.
The only thing Ginny knew was that she really did have to tell Luna the truth. Soon. Rejection Ginny could handle pretty well (‘Fat chance'; Ginny swatted her hand at the thought as if there was a fly in the room), but she hated this state of not knowing anything. It was driving her insane. Ginny’s mind-particularly her suddenly overly-romanticized imagination-seemed to be working in extreme overtime whenever she shared a class with Luna, and her class-work was paying for it.
Like, just the other day, Ginny had been staring at this crack in the ceiling, (which Luna had told her looked rather like the profile of a Nargle) having one of those silly wedding-day fantasies that she hadn’t had since she was eight-although those had considerably more dark hair, glasses, and lightning-shaped-scars and considerably less silky blonde hair, silver-blue eyes, and…brides. She was interrupted by a Ravenclaw boy-who was short, tan, and had a name that Ginny could never seem to remember no matter how often she heard it-tapping her on the shoulder. “What’s wrong?” he asked as if they were childhood friends rather than next-to-strangers. “You usually seem to enjoy Transfiguration.”
Of course, the only practical response Ginny could think of at the moment was, “…We’re in Transfiguration?” Yeah. That was about the time she had decided to tell Luna how she felt and put her mind at ease.
But, that took Ginny in a huge circle and right back to her original problem. How the hell am I supposed to tell her? At that thought, Ginny felt a single bead of nervous sweat run down her neck, which was a little ridiculous, she supposed, since it was only mid-January.
Ginny really, really hoped that she looked as inconspicuous as she didn’t feel as she fixed her gaze on a bit of dust on the table she was sitting at. She began to mentally work out what she was going to say to the blonde. Ginny had never really been one for words, generally letting her actions speak for themselves since they seemed to do a much better job at it than she could. But this time, she really wanted to make an impression on the girl sitting across from her-the very girl who somehow made conversations about Dung-Hurling Flynx seem positively enamoring.
Ginny’s master plan: use small, simple words and try not to make a complete arse out of herself. She clenched her jaw, wishing that the words would come out on their own accord, but, of course, that didn’t happen. She inwardly sighed; this was it.
Ginny moved her eyes upward from the speck of dust on the table (that was shaped oddly similar to the three-petal flower Luna was wearing in her hair yesterday) that she had fixed her attention on before and was planning to make eye contact with Luna, who…was no longer sitting in the chair across from Ginny.
She was sure that every single hair on her body was stood on end when she felt a hot sigh on the back of her neck, and she mentally congratulated herself for not jumping ten feet into the air and squealing, as was her first instinct. Luna released another dreamy breath into the nape of Ginny’s neck and wrapped her arms around the redhead’s shoulders as calmly and naturally as if she had done this everyday of her life (and she was Loony Lovegood, so maybe she had). Ginny, however, wasn’t quite as comfortable with the new seating arrangements, “Luna, what exactly are you doing over here?”
“I’m reading,” Luna’s tone indicated that Ginny should have already known that. “You hadn’t turned the page for nearly an hour so I assumed it was interesting.”
Ginny looked at the book that was, indeed, resting open in her hands (when did that get there?). She suppressed another squeak, her blood running cold, then very, very hot as she felt the blonde giggle into the back of her neck at a grouping of words that, apparently, she found to be funny.
“This really is good,” Luna said after another few minutes of silence; she didn’t show any signs of potentially moving from her current position wrapped around Ginny anytime soon. “What’s it called?”
Ginny opened her mouth and then paused, realizing that she had no idea which book she had grabbed from the shelves. “Erm…” and looking at the cover now would just lead to other questions, “Domesticating Wild Creatures…?” Though, thankfully, Luna didn’t seem to notice or acknowledge the totally-not-subtle crack in Ginny’s voice. The Gryffindor was about to mentally dance around and give herself a high-five for the quick save when she heard:
“Oh?” …and dammit she had picked the wrong subject; the book was on potions, wasn’t it? Now Luna would be able to connect the dots and figure out Ginny’s secret, wouldn’t she? And then it would be all over and Luna would laugh at her and tell the entire school and Ginny wouldn’t have anybody left to turn to for help and- “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of that book before.”
Ginny cleared her throat, hoping that some of her apprehension would leave with the gesture, and said, “No wonder; it’s bloody terrible. I was just about to put it away.” Ginny quickly got up, picked up the book, and walked over to the bookshelf, equally happy for the opportunity to hide the incriminating book and sad for the loss of feeling Luna’s arms wrapped around her.
After reshelving the book, Ginny turned around to see that Luna had pulled up a second chair near her own-very near, actually. Two of the chairs’ legs were touching and did that mean Ginny and Luna’s legs would also-“Ginny, are you feeling well?” -and damn she had been staring again.
Ginny sat down on her chair (and yes, their legs were brushing each other’s every few seconds, and did Luna want that to happen or was Ginny freaking the other girl out, and she should probably stop swinging her leg to increase the contact but it just felt so good) and put a smile on her face that she hoped didn’t look as forced as it felt. “Yes, Luna, I’m fine.”
“Oh?” And Luna was using that same disbelieving tone of voice that she had used earlier, and Ginny was half convinced that she could read minds while her other half (which was probably her damn logic acting up again) figured that this was just Luna’s way of showing that she accepted what was being said, rather than saying ‘okay’ or ‘yes’ like most people. But Ginny didn’t know which half to believe, because when one is talking to Loony Luna Lovegood they can never be entirely sure if she’s even having the same conversation, much less what her responses mean.
And although Ginny would have been more than happy to leave the conversation at that, apparently her mouth, once again, disagreed, “Luna I-” …And Ginny would have slapped her hand against her mouth in horror but she figured that would be rather uncouth of her, and it wouldn’t have accomplished much since her traitorous voice had died off in a pathetic, high-pitched squeak after spilling the first few words of her confession.
Luna, I like you.
Ginny decided that her voice, which seemed to have transfigured itself into a formidable lump in the pit of her stomach, wasn’t going to be of much help right now. Ginny briefly considered acting her feelings out through a small game of charades, which Luna would undoubtedly enjoy, but she figured that this sort of thing really shouldn’t be expressed by her wordlessly waving her arms around like a fool if that could at all be avoided. And besides, Ginny probably could talk, she just really, really didn’t want to. She also had the sneaking suspicion that anything she tried to say would turn into a mangled word that had not yet been added to the English dictionary.
“Uhrm…” And Ginny would have smacked herself if she wasn’t so sure that the blonde sitting next to her already doubted the redhead’s sanity (that makes two of us). Ginny tried to continue the ‘thought’-which was more of a nonsensical syllable-but felt as if her tongue had been tied into that slipknot that Luna had showed her over the summer two years ago.
Luna looked into Ginny’s eyes in a manner that could only be described as a bizarre combination of expectance and patience. The Ravenclaw crossed her legs and marked her page in the magazine with the owl feather she had pulled from her hair. With that, Ginny was, without a doubt, sure that unless she somehow mustered up some courage and spoke her mind, the two of them would be sitting in the (suddenly very uncomfortable) library chairs all throughout the night and well into their morning classes. Ginny shot back what she hoped was a drop-it-and-leave-it-alone type of look, already knowing that the blonde would read it as an I’m-sorry-and-I’ll-tell-you-anything-you-want-to-know expression.
“Luna, I-” …Wow. Amazing. She’d almost gotten three words out this time. How long had they been sitting there, just staring at each other, now? Ginny wasn’t entirely sure, but by now it was considerably darker and most of the other students had left the library. Luna bit her lower lip and Ginny nearly missed the briefest trace of a smile cross the Ravenclaw’s lips. Nearly. And Ginny’s legs had probably melted into the goo that she had accidently made in Potions last week, but she wouldn’t really know since she was still sitting motionless, rather like a statue, transfixed with staring into the sapphire eyes inches in front of her own.
“Luna, I really like you,” and oh shit she’d actually said that out loud and now everything was going to get all fucked up because they were supposed to be friends and straight and loyal and straight and witches and straight and successful and straight. And was Ginny blushing? …She probably was. Her cheeks felt as if someone could burn themselves simply by laying a finger on them, and their colour probably rivaled her very own Weasley Hair-itage. And all of those second-rate romance novels where a character’s heart skipped a beat? Yeah, well, Ginny was sure that her heart, which happened to be working in super-mega-ultra-overtime mode at the moment, had beaten more than enough times to compensate for their loss.
Ginny wasn’t babbling was she? …Yes, she was. And she must’ve sounded like she was barking mad and what could she have even been talking about for all that time and she really needed to shut up because she was making an arse of herself just like she’d hoped not to but her damn mouth just won’t seem to stop moving and why was Luna’s smile growing and why was she looking at Ginny as if the redhead was the latest issue of The Quibbler (still laying, forgotten, on the table) and why-
“That’s rather adorable,” and that comment seemed to shut Ginny up within milliseconds due to the shock, minor indignity at being called ‘cute’, and inexplicable urge to have the compliment repeated.
Luna giggled at a joke only she understood before reaching her hand up and shutting Ginny’s gaping lips (which had apparently been hanging open, like an idiot, ever since they stopped their rambling) with her forefinger. “I was wondering when you would get around to actually telling me. You really are horrible at being subtle, Ginny.”
And Ginny was about to protest-she really was-but was, once again, silenced, this time by Luna leaning forward and closing the distance between the two.