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Claiming my last fic of 2017! I wrote this for rarepair_shorts's 2017 Winter Exchange for nearlyconscious. This fest was the first one that I ever participated in, and it was rather nice to create something for it again. Feel free to read it here or on Ao3. The original post can be found HERE.
Title: To Fall in Love
Pairing: Ginny Weasley/Pansy Parkinson
Rating: PG-13
Contains (Highlight to view): *hurt/comfort, brief episode of dissociating*
Word Count: 684 words
Summary: Ginny remembers falling in love with Pansy.
Author's Notes: To the mods, thank you for the much appreciated extension. To
kiertorata, you are the best for stepping up at the last minute to beta my fic. This story is all the better because of your input. To
nearlyconscious, I ended up being inspired by your prompts, and your list of femslash likes. You are one of my favourite Harry Potter artists and I love your femslash headcanons. I was very happy that I got to write for you, and hope you enjoy this story.
The faint smell of burnt cookies greeted Ginny when she Apparated home. She dropped her Quidditch gear at the door. Her gloves landed somewhere on the floor. Her broom almost knocked over the potted plant that Neville had given her as a housewarming gift, which was resting on the dresser. He had said that a house wasn’t a home without a plant, and Ginny had to agree with him.
Quidditch practice in December had been brutal. The biting winter wind always managed chill Ginny down to the bones. Ginny rubbed her hands together to create some warmth. She saw her olive green painted nailed and smiled. Pansy had insisted on painting them.
“Fuck!” Pansy’s favourite curse rang from the kitchen. Ginny followed the sound of her voice and the accompanying clanking of things falling to the floor.
There was flour everywhere. Sugar and cocoa powder covered the counters, and even parts of the ceiling. Yellow mixing bowls and spoons were scattered across the kitchen. And there was Pansy, pink-apron askew, holding a spoon that dripped batter on the floor.
“You alright, there?” Ginny ran her finger through the batter that coated the counter. “Looks like a garden gnome was given free rein of the kitchen.” She licked the batter off of her finger. “Not bad though.”
“Your Mum mentioned that baking was a Weasley tradition.” Pansy ran her fingers through her hair, the flour from her hands streaking her hair a pale white. “Fleur brought those perfect macarons last Christmas. And Hermione told me that she was planning these elaborate gingerbread cookies for Christmas dinner. And I can fucking bake, so I was going to show them.” Pansy pursed her lips at that last word. “I don’t even fucking know. I was meant to be done before you got back.”
Ginny smiled. There were things about Pansy that still surprised her. Ginny remembered the moment she had fallen in love with her. No sweet whispers of love had been shared under starlight. No kisses had been shared under the full moon either. She had fallen in love with Pansy in the middle on the night.
It had been scary and messy, but Pansy had been right by her side. Ginny hadn’t expected the person she had been shagging to stay by her side. She hadn’t even been sure they were a couple.
That night, Ginny had woken up with a start. The bedroom had seemed big. Her surroundings had taken two steps back. Pansy, who had had her hand on Ginny’s stomach, had felt far away. Ginny hadn’t been able to feel Pansy’s warmth. Everything had been muted. She’d had dreams more vivid than this.
Unease had crept up Ginny’s throat. It had felt thick and cold. She’d sat up. She had been alone. No matter how hard she had tried, she hadn’t been able to catch her breath.
Pansy had woken up. Somehow, she’d understood what had been happening to Ginny. She’d sat up beside Ginny. Pansy’s usually styled hair had been a mess.
“Listen to my voice. I know it feels real, Ginny. I know. But it’s not happening again,” Pansy had said. “Feel the bedsheets under your fingertips. Breath in the lavender from the candle we lit early. You’re home, Ginny.”
Pansy had talked to her so softly. Ginny hadn’t expected anyone to be able to reach her.
“I’m here. I’m right beside you Ginny,” Pansy had said.
Ginny didn’t remember how long this kept going, but Pansy had been there. And she’d been there every time since.
Their relationship was unconventional. They argued and bickered. There was a fair share of teasing and snark. But on that night Ginny had fallen in love with Pansy. And Ginny was still in love with Pansy.
Ginny toed a disregarded bowl on the floor. She looked around the mess in the kitchen, her eyes passing the counters dusted with flour and setting on Pansy.
She crossed the room, and pulled Pansy against her body. Ginny placed a soft kiss below Pansy’s ear. “Let’s see if we can salvage this, shall we?”
Title: To Fall in Love
Pairing: Ginny Weasley/Pansy Parkinson
Rating: PG-13
Contains (Highlight to view): *hurt/comfort, brief episode of dissociating*
Word Count: 684 words
Summary: Ginny remembers falling in love with Pansy.
Author's Notes: To the mods, thank you for the much appreciated extension. To
kiertorata, you are the best for stepping up at the last minute to beta my fic. This story is all the better because of your input. To
nearlyconscious, I ended up being inspired by your prompts, and your list of femslash likes. You are one of my favourite Harry Potter artists and I love your femslash headcanons. I was very happy that I got to write for you, and hope you enjoy this story.
The faint smell of burnt cookies greeted Ginny when she Apparated home. She dropped her Quidditch gear at the door. Her gloves landed somewhere on the floor. Her broom almost knocked over the potted plant that Neville had given her as a housewarming gift, which was resting on the dresser. He had said that a house wasn’t a home without a plant, and Ginny had to agree with him.
Quidditch practice in December had been brutal. The biting winter wind always managed chill Ginny down to the bones. Ginny rubbed her hands together to create some warmth. She saw her olive green painted nailed and smiled. Pansy had insisted on painting them.
“Fuck!” Pansy’s favourite curse rang from the kitchen. Ginny followed the sound of her voice and the accompanying clanking of things falling to the floor.
There was flour everywhere. Sugar and cocoa powder covered the counters, and even parts of the ceiling. Yellow mixing bowls and spoons were scattered across the kitchen. And there was Pansy, pink-apron askew, holding a spoon that dripped batter on the floor.
“You alright, there?” Ginny ran her finger through the batter that coated the counter. “Looks like a garden gnome was given free rein of the kitchen.” She licked the batter off of her finger. “Not bad though.”
“Your Mum mentioned that baking was a Weasley tradition.” Pansy ran her fingers through her hair, the flour from her hands streaking her hair a pale white. “Fleur brought those perfect macarons last Christmas. And Hermione told me that she was planning these elaborate gingerbread cookies for Christmas dinner. And I can fucking bake, so I was going to show them.” Pansy pursed her lips at that last word. “I don’t even fucking know. I was meant to be done before you got back.”
Ginny smiled. There were things about Pansy that still surprised her. Ginny remembered the moment she had fallen in love with her. No sweet whispers of love had been shared under starlight. No kisses had been shared under the full moon either. She had fallen in love with Pansy in the middle on the night.
It had been scary and messy, but Pansy had been right by her side. Ginny hadn’t expected the person she had been shagging to stay by her side. She hadn’t even been sure they were a couple.
That night, Ginny had woken up with a start. The bedroom had seemed big. Her surroundings had taken two steps back. Pansy, who had had her hand on Ginny’s stomach, had felt far away. Ginny hadn’t been able to feel Pansy’s warmth. Everything had been muted. She’d had dreams more vivid than this.
Unease had crept up Ginny’s throat. It had felt thick and cold. She’d sat up. She had been alone. No matter how hard she had tried, she hadn’t been able to catch her breath.
Pansy had woken up. Somehow, she’d understood what had been happening to Ginny. She’d sat up beside Ginny. Pansy’s usually styled hair had been a mess.
“Listen to my voice. I know it feels real, Ginny. I know. But it’s not happening again,” Pansy had said. “Feel the bedsheets under your fingertips. Breath in the lavender from the candle we lit early. You’re home, Ginny.”
Pansy had talked to her so softly. Ginny hadn’t expected anyone to be able to reach her.
“I’m here. I’m right beside you Ginny,” Pansy had said.
Ginny didn’t remember how long this kept going, but Pansy had been there. And she’d been there every time since.
Their relationship was unconventional. They argued and bickered. There was a fair share of teasing and snark. But on that night Ginny had fallen in love with Pansy. And Ginny was still in love with Pansy.
Ginny toed a disregarded bowl on the floor. She looked around the mess in the kitchen, her eyes passing the counters dusted with flour and setting on Pansy.
She crossed the room, and pulled Pansy against her body. Ginny placed a soft kiss below Pansy’s ear. “Let’s see if we can salvage this, shall we?”