You're Mine, Neville/Ginny, Harry/Ginny, R, takes place mid-DH I swear I'll write you a happy one... this one was crazy angsty.
Neville's never had something nice that was just his own. His clothes, his home, his books, everything has been shared or handed down or some awful form of charity.
His worst fear is that Ginny is the same.
Hogwarts is cold, and the war is on and they have nothing to cling to, except maybe each other. Remainders, leftovers, spare parts. They're a pair, and if anyone would bother to notice they were a pretty powerful set.
But none of that matters in the dark. In the quiet. In the wait of the trenches as they wait for the battle to reach their gates. All that matters is that even though Neville's had her first he hasn't had her most, and he knows in the dark when she's quiet and staring out the window, even though she's in his arms, she's thinking of someone else
( ... )
Every time I think about DH, I just keep thinking "those poor kids". Especially the ones locked up in the castle with the Carrows and the Ministry bearing down and Snape in the Headmaster's seat with Dumbledore dead and their families out there. And especially especially Ginny and Neville and Luna and the DA gang who have their friends missing and maybe dead but out there and left behind... I would love to read a book or novel length of the whole gang and what that year was like. Being taught useless junk and veiled blood purity stuff, but tucking up together and forming their own resistance... so much material there (and angst, as above).
Bromberhursts and Blotts, Harry/Luna, PGIt was a fairly warm day in Diagon Alley when Harry had to suppress a smile the moment Luna walked into Flourish and Blotts only to inquire after a book that studied the mating habits of Bromberhursts, a creature that, apparently, no one in the wizarding world had ever heard of save for the Lovegoods
( ... )
"Do you think it could have gone a different way?" he asks her, one night.
She turns to look at him, hair falling over her shoulders. "What?"
"I mean -" and here he pauses, because he has to separate his fear from his reality (because he has her, he has her, despite everything she chose him, wanted him). "Do you think there was a time we wouldn't have ended up together?"
She breathes, and reaches out to grip his hand tight. "No," she says with barely a moment's pause.
He raises an eyebrow. "Really?"
She kisses his shoulder, soft, and grins. "Yeah," and she kisses him properly, the way that she likes (more than a peck but not a real kiss; she likes to feel him breathing, press her hand against his heart and feel it speed up
( ... )
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I swear I'll write you a happy one... this one was crazy angsty.
Neville's never had something nice that was just his own. His clothes, his home, his books, everything has been shared or handed down or some awful form of charity.
His worst fear is that Ginny is the same.
Hogwarts is cold, and the war is on and they have nothing to cling to, except maybe each other. Remainders, leftovers, spare parts. They're a pair, and if anyone would bother to notice they were a pretty powerful set.
But none of that matters in the dark. In the quiet. In the wait of the trenches as they wait for the battle to reach their gates. All that matters is that even though Neville's had her first he hasn't had her most, and he knows in the dark when she's quiet and staring out the window, even though she's in his arms, she's thinking of someone else ( ... )
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give me a bucket for my tears
lovely :)
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I'm so glad you like it!
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"Do you think it could have gone a different way?" he asks her, one night.
She turns to look at him, hair falling over her shoulders. "What?"
"I mean -" and here he pauses, because he has to separate his fear from his reality (because he has her, he has her, despite everything she chose him, wanted him). "Do you think there was a time we wouldn't have ended up together?"
She breathes, and reaches out to grip his hand tight. "No," she says with barely a moment's pause.
He raises an eyebrow. "Really?"
She kisses his shoulder, soft, and grins. "Yeah," and she kisses him properly, the way that she likes (more than a peck but not a real kiss; she likes to feel him breathing, press her hand against his heart and feel it speed up ( ... )
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