harry potter ship weeks

the novelty doesn't wear off
  • Harry: I can't believe it
  • Harry: I honest to god can not believe this is happening to me
  • Harry: I kissed you; we're HUGGING
  • Harry: I am fucking HUGGING Draco MALFOY
  • Harry: and you kissED ME ON THE CHEEK
  • Harry: i'm dead, i'm gone, this is too much
  • Draco: Harry we've been married for seven years what the fuck
  • Harry: and we're MARRIED

poc potter week, day five: favourite ship - harry/draco

‘how’s the professor of my favourite class doing?’
draco scoffed, ‘your favourite class? potter you aren’t fooling anyone, anybody with eyes could see that you absolutely detested potions’
‘well maybe if it were you teaching back then, i’d like it better’ harry smirked at draco
‘you forget that you also hated me’
‘when you’re like this i still do’
draco laughed. ‘whatever it is you’re trying to wheedle out of me, bugger off, it’s not happening. i need this done for tomorrow’s class. besides, don’t you need to grade that stack of defense essays hovering behind my head?’
‘well essays can certainly wait, don’t you think so, malfoy?’

Flesh Memories

Here is my contribution to Hinny ship week, because I spend too much time thinking about how Harry proposed. 


“Harry, why’s there a snitch in here?” 

“What?” Harry feigned a puzzled expression and followed Ginny’s gaze to the minuscule golden ball fluttering near the ceiling fan. 

“Oh, that. It’s probably for you to catch, isn’t it? That’s what snitches are usually for.” 

Ginny raised her eyebrows. “Why me?” she countered, “you’re the seeker, Harry.” 

Harry just shrugged and tried to keep his expression impassive. 

“Oh, fine,” she snapped, tossing her long, red hair over one shoulder and rising to her feet. “But I swear if this is some kind of trick I’ll make you sorry, Harry Potter.” 

Harry grinned, and watched with unabashed pleasure as she leaped atop the kitchen table, and missed the snitch by a millisecond; it darted away from the tips of her painted fingernails and through the doorway. 

She pursued, and he followed her. 

Ginny may have suspected Harry of plotting some elaborate prank, but even at that she was nothing if not determined. She jumped from the back of the couch to the top of a low book-case, nimble and purposeful. 

It took her half an hour (or thereabouts, Harry may have lost track after Ginny bent low to search under a display-case, which was followed by several minutes in which neither of them were bothered about the whereabouts of the snitch), but in the end her look of reverent pride was worth the endeavor. 

And that was before it slid open in her hands. 

“What the - ?” 

“Snitches have flesh memories,” Harry told her, and when that was met with just as perplexed a reaction, he continued, “they remember the first person to touch them. That’s the one you caught, in your fifth year, remember? The time you played Cho…” 

The game you played just before I kissed you for the first time…

“Okay. But…why do you have it?” 

“I wrote McGonagall and asked her for it.”

“And she just - what, gave it up? Why?”

“Look inside.”

Ginny huffed, but her curiosity outweighed her stubbornness, and she peered inside. There was a moment of suspended silence before her honey-speckled brown eyes widened and lifted again in search of Harry, but in the second that had elapsed he’d sunk to his knees. 

No - sunk to one knee. 

Later Ginny would marvel that she managed to extract the diamond band from inside the snitch with such trembling fingers, and with her vision blurred from tears too strong-willed to be shed. 

There were more words, and a kiss, and later, as they lay in their bed, Ginny’s arm outstretched so she could see the way the streetlamp outside their window glinted off the princess-cut stones, those stubborn tears fell to her cheeks. 

It wasn’t the beauty of the ring that brought her to tears, or the way her mother had sobbed when they flooed over to share the news. It was the story Harry had told her then, quietly, as if the syllables were just shadows: a story about snitches and flesh memory, and a walk through the forbidden forest.  

Because that was the second time a golden snitch had brought Harry his family. 

OMG you guys! In the last few weeks I’ve gotten like a bunch of new followers??? I’ve hit a super cool milestone without even realizing it and I’m so happy! I’m going to do a celebration soon because I’ll finally have free time in a couple of weeks!

Thank you for following this Harry Potter weird ships trash I love you all so much!

🌱🌻🌫️🌵🌹☀️🌴🍄🌨️🌾🍂

Life is Like Dancing

Written for Hinny ship week: anonymous prompted their first dance together. Probably not what you had in mind, but this is what I got stuck on. Takes place in HBP. Hope you enjoy!


Oh my poor heart, where has it gone…” the sultry tones of Celestina Warbeck wafted out of the wireless and over the occupants of the family room in the Burrow. After the less than welcome guests at Christmas dinner, no one was particularly in the mood for revelry and the evening had mostly been spent sitting in silence.

Bill and Fleur had retired early, and moments ago Fred and George bid the family farewell and returned to their flat. Harry, Ron, and Ginny sat side by side on the sofa, watching as a grin spread across Mrs. Weasley’s face.

“Oh, Arthur,” she exclaimed, “Do you remember where we were when we first heard this song?” Mr. Weasley smiled and was promptly pulled to his feet by his wife. The two began to dance in a well practiced waltz.

Ron grimaced and turned to Harry. “I don’t think I want to watch this,” he said, standing and stretching. “You coming up?”

“I’ll be up in a few minutes,” Harry said. Ron mumbled a goodnight to his parents, who acknowledged him quickly while they danced, and ruffled Ginny’s hair. She squirmed away from his reach and batted his hand away, swinging feet up to rest in the place Ron had just been sitting as he climbed the stairs.

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