color blocked hair

You love me. You want me. You need me. I can be your whore

2

I’ll say it again, Victor looks great in pink and purple.

Thank you so much for the request @sunburntkeith !

send character + palette

Wed

A/N: IT’S FINALLY HERE!  FINALLY!  I really hope this is fulfilling for everyone (I’m pretty happy with how it turned out) and enjoyable too.  Also if anyone cares I was listening to Say You Won’t Let Go by James Arthur a bunch while I wrote this because it’s fluffy and makes me think of Hinny (thanks @ anon who suggested that as a Hinny song!)

So here it is!  All 6,694 words of it :)

Also available on FF and Ao3!


The air in muggle London is still crisp enough that Ginny pulls her jacket tighter around her middle, despite the proclaimed official start of spring.  Since the New Year, her Quidditch schedule has been fairly demanding, the season rapidly moving toward its close, so her contributions to the wedding planning process were minimal.  So when she gets her first two days off in a row, Ginny strikes out for the muggle shops in the hope of beginning and finishing her honeymoon wardrobe.

Despite her seeming disinterest – which is hardly the case – Ginny’s relatively prepared, carefully organized list in hand as she strides down Brompton Road.  Her eyes downcast, she doesn’t see the frowning woman leaving the department store until they’re both nearly sent sprawling.  Ginny grasps the woman’s bony arms and manages to hold them both upright.  “I’m so sorry I was – “

Her voice dies in her throat as she reluctantly takes in the pinched face of Petunia Dursley, looking equally happy to see Ginny.  “Petunia.”

“Jenny.”

“Ginny.”

Petunia sniffs, tucking her pocketbook strap firmly into the crook of her arm.  “Are you still – ”

She trails off, looking rather like she’s sucked a lemon, and Ginny can’t quite decide where that sentence was going – ‘still with my nephew?’ ‘still living like a country bumpkin?’ ‘still a freak?’ – so she quirks a brow, her friendliest option for a reply at the moment.

“You and my,” she swallows awkwardly and changes tack slightly, “Harry.”

“Yes,” Ginny answers simply, the ring on her finger glinting in the late morning light.

Petunia’s icy blue eyes zero in on Ginny’s hand and her lips purse further – which Ginny previously would have said was impossible.  She glances around, blonde hair stationary despite the blustery day, and murmurs, “I didn’t expect to see you – here.”

Tamping down her rising anger at Petunia’s tone, Ginny crumples the list in her hand, her voice saccharine.  “Harry and I like to do both, since we tend to get lots of attention when we’re not here, as you termed it.”

Petunia blinks, eyes shuttering a bit but she nods, crisp.  “That sounds true enough,” she eyes Ginny’s ring again, “Can I assume you and Harry are engaged?”

Ignoring the less than congratulatory tone, Ginny nods, “Yes.  We’ll be married later this year.”

Passersby jostle them as the early lunch crowd descends on the nearby restaurants and Ginny futilely hopes Petunia will be swept away with the stream.  But sadly, she’s not, and for some unknowable reason she’s pressing on with the conversation, strained though it is.  “That’s lovely.  I’m.  I’m glad he’s found someone to take him.”

Ginny frowns, unable to repress the growl-like tone of her voice, “It’s no hardship for me, I assure you.”

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