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[celtics534]

Want

“--and you’d think, after rereading the chapter twice that I’d have a bleeding clue what Vector was on about, but I haven’t. The OWL is going to be a complete disaster.”

“You could always fall asleep in the middle,” Harry suggests, smirking. “I’ve heard that’s an effective way to get out of OWLs.”

“Excellent advice,” Ginny snorts. “And anyway, what are you on about, ‘fall asleep in the middle'? I thought you had a vision?”

It’s odd to joke about what was arguably the worst evening of his life – the worst evening in a life already rife with horrific evenings contending for the top spot – but he finds that the twinge of grief and regret doesn’t come. Not while her warm hand is clasped in his. “I did,” he says airily. “After I fell asleep.”

“You’re a terrible influence,” she snickers, smacking his arm lightly with her free hand. They’re not taking the most direct route from the Library to the Gryffindor Common Room, choosing instead to meander lazily in the relative privacy of the nearly-curfew corridors. They’ve ended up somewhere on the fourth floor, somehow. “What’ll you do when I flunk out of Hogwarts, eh?”

“You won’t,” he answers.

“I might,” she says warningly, and then she heaves a great sigh. “I suppose I could stay at home and help Mum with the chickens, assuming she doesn’t murder me…” 

She’s joking, but Harry thinks he sees a glint of something resembling genuine worry in her expression. He’s reminded irresistibly of himself in the days leading up to his expulsion hearing, how he’d gone to Sirius, hoping desperately for reassurance that expulsion wouldn’t mean the end…

“If you do, we could always just move to France,” Harry says. “According to Fleur it’s better there anyway.”

Ginny raises an eyebrow. “‘We’?”

“Yeah,” Harry says, nonchalant. “You’re not ditching me here to do NEWTs alone.”

Ginny stares at him, and then a smile spreads across her lips. “Yeah, alright. But not France. I’m not going anywhere Fleur thinks is good.”

“Wherever,” Harry shrugs easily. “I’m not fussy.”

Ginny tugs at his arm so he’s facing her, and then she backs him slowly up against the craggy stone wall of the corridor, and he feels his heart quicken. “What about Siberia? Would you go there?”

She’s pressed herself up against him, her hands snaking up around his shoulders, and he’s finding it difficult to think at the minute. “Siberia could be nice.”

She presses her lips against his, so soft, and his breath hitches in his chest. Before he has the chance to melt into her, she pulls back, but only just. Her eyelids are fluttering, and her lips still ghost against his as she whispers, “The Sahara, then?”

“Sure,” he agrees, not caring where he’s agreeing to as long as she’s there, and then he’s kissing her. He wonders vaguely if he’ll ever get used to this: the feel of her pressed up against his chest, the way his life seems so much brighter now that it’s lit up with her fiery glow, how dangerous wanting has become now that all he wants is her. 

He kisses her, and pulls her in closer, and the want nearly swallows him whole - to touch her everywhere, to have her for more than just a fleeting moment, to escape the sword hanging overhead, poised to slice him open along the seams she’s only just sewn together. 

Siberia could be nice, really. No prophecy, or Horcruxes, or Voldemort. Just Ginny, her skin dappled with freckles, and the cackle of a laugh that he loves coaxing out of her. 

He might be free to want her and actually have her there. 

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I just love how comfortable harry is with Ginny. This boy either hates/is neutral everytime someone hugs him. Yet he is the one who initiates his hug with Ginny(she was the first person who he initiated a hug with!). He is scared to death of the fact that cho would expect him to kiss her and hold hands with her. But he literally kisses her in front of the entire gryffindor and is holding hands with her and kissing her goodnights as if they have been together for ages. In OOTP he doesn't even tell ron and hermoine what was bothering him yet when Ginny appears, he simply confesses how much he wants to see Sirius without thinking twice. Harry also nearly spilled his plans to kill Voldemort the first time they were alone after breakup. It's like he is fully defenceless with her and doesn't even show an ounce of self consciousness. And I love that for him

[celtics534]

don't leave me!

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Sometimes I get too in my head with my writing. Especially about my smut. I reread every last word with the most critical of eyes and think, Ooh is that cringe? Will that be too graphic? Will this word or phrase take people out of the scene?

And then I read a book. A published, hardcover, NYT bestsellers list book and...

Did you get that?

Someone looked at this sentence (likely more than one someone, tbh) and was like, 'Yeah. We'll print that.'

So the moral of the story, my fellow heathen smut writers, is that we're fine.

As a matter of fact, we're actually fucking amazing.

[celtics534]

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Bellatrix Lestrange really made both Harry and Ron go all "TOUCH HER AND DIE" over their respective love interests

[celtics534]

im sorry for not updating any of my fics (specifically my lv one). i have no motivation lol.

[celtics534]

Gentle reminder that often creativity decides to hibernate for a bit.

It’s okay.  You’re not broken, you’re resting, and much like spring, creativity comes back.

[celtics534]

Scent

@hinnymicrofic

“When did you finally figure it out?” Ginny asks. Her hair is fanned out around her, the red a shocking contrast to the green of the Quidditch pitch. 

They’d been mucking about - flying, tossing a Quaffle, racing, perhaps brushing up against each other in the sky more than was strictly necessary for a casual scrimmage. They had finally headed for the ground as the sun made its lazy descent below the line of trees. Ginny had flopped down on the grass to watch it and Harry had joined her, the thrill of flying still singing in his chest. Or maybe that was just Ginny. 

“Hmm?” Harry hums contentedly, watching the sky transition to a brilliant orange. 

“When did you finally figure out that you fancied me?” Ginny asks, trailing her fingers through the grass. 

The question startles him, because it seems to him now that he must’ve always fancied her, at least a bit, even if he was too thick to realize or too wrapped up in other things to notice. He’s still thinking when he answers, “When I wanted to throttle Dean.” 

She laughs, which was what he’d intended. “Jealous, were you?”

“Mm,” he agrees, still mulling the question over. 

Looking back on it, there are a great many glaring signals that Harry hadn’t recognized for what they were at the time. The way he’d longed for his summer with her to stretch on, the twinge of regret as she walked away on the train…

“That first Potions lesson, you were what I smelled in the Amortentia,” he muses. “That probably should’ve been a clue…”

He’d been thinking out loud, and only after he’s said it does he realize that was perhaps a more vulnerable confession than he’d intended to make. That’s a bit much, probably, when they’ve only been together a week. 

“What?” Ginny says, and Harry wishes he could snatch the words back, wishes he could chew them up and swallow them to be buried somewhere deep in his gut where they belong. 

“Yeah,” he says, trying to sound nonchalant. 

Ginny rolls over and props herself up on her elbows, her expression a mixture of incredulity and mischievousness. “Did you really? What did it smell like?”

“A few things,” he says, unable to look at her and instead pretending to be utterly entranced with the sunset. “Treacle tart. Something that smelled like my Firebolt. And…”

He finally looks at her, and finds that her eyes are glowing brighter than the sun ever could. “You.”

She seems to be struck uncharacteristically speechless, and the moment hangs for several panicked heartbeats. Then, she shuffles closer and presses her sweet lips down to his urgently, and Harry reckons he can’t have mucked it up too badly, as she runs her fingers through his hair and presses herself against him. 

She pulls away suddenly and stares down at him, her eyes pressing him down into the earth, and then she lets out a bark of laughter.

“What?” he asks, smiling. 

“You–” she cuts herself off, rolling back over and letting out a loud breath that floats up into the darkening sky. “You can’t say shite like that to me.”

He has no idea what to say to that, but luckily she spares him by continuing. “You can’t, it isn’t fair. I already like you too much.”

Harry wonders whether the sun has set directly into his chest. “Well, me too. Clearly.”

Ginny snorts, and Harry reaches for her hand. He breathes in deeply, wanting to drink in the moment, and he thinks he catches the faint flowery scent of her lingering traitorously in the air.

[celtics534]

I hope the fic you are working on right now finds a reader who will think about it constantly for years

[celtics534]

[celtics534]

Bathrobe

Written for @hinnymicrofic, Sept 6: Problems

Ron shook his head and looked up. “I had no clue you had so many marital problems.”

Ginny shifted closer to Harry on his lap, letting out a chuckle.

Harry glanced at the newspaper. “Clearly our very secret elopement was a mistake.”

“If we were to marry without mum there, we’re going to have much bigger problems,” Ginny commented with a glance at her engagement ring.

“I better be invited too,” Ron mumbled. “Or I may change my mind about allowing you to date my sister.”

Harry and Ron locked eyes for a moment in silence and they both burst out laughing.

“I could always date that bloke...” Her brows knitted together. “Babe, what’s his name again?”

“Your secret lover you’re having an affair with at the Harpies stadium?” he asked, eyeing her.

Her eyes sparkled. “Yes!”

“Robert.”

“I do recommend remembering someone’s name before dating them,” Ron said.

Ginny nodded. She leaned towards Harry. “Would be terribly awkward if I accidentally moaned your name instead,” she whispered.

“I heard that!” Ron objected, pretending to read the newspaper.

“As long as you don’t moan Robert’s name when we—”

“Do you mind?!” Ron asked.

“Ronald,” Ginny said. “You invited yourself over here because you had a minor fight with Hermione. We had different plans, trust me. You should be glad we didn’t kick you out.”

Her brother turned red. “Fine, I’ll leave.” He closed the newspaper and stood up. “You filthy people.”

Ginny snorted. “Oh Ron. Don’t pretend. We all know about your little makeup ritual with Hermione.”

Ron shook his head. “You don’t.” He walked to the door. “See you tonight?”

“Bye, Ron,” Harry said. “Tell ‘Mione hi from us.”

Ron waved and closed the door; Harry returned his gaze to Ginny in her bathrobe. She beamed at him.

“What?” she asked cheekily.

He eyed the ribbon in her bathrobe. “You have some nerve sitting on my lap in that bathrobe with nothing underneath.”

Her eyes tracked down his body. “Oh, I didn’t know you noticed that,” she said innocently.

He took a deep breath, meeting her eyes. She playfully raised an eyebrow.

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[celtics534]

love writing. writing is awesome. it’s a shame that it involves writing though

[celtics534]

found two kitties cuddling by the sea

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“I’m not going back to Hogwarts. There are some stuff I need to take care of…”

“I thought you would decide something like that.”

[celtics534]

Harry and Hedwig were the perfect match because no other owl could have handled Harry's dramatics other than the great passive-aggressive diva herself, Hedwig