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thesharkspajamas · 2 months

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James and Angus play cricket - NO SPOILERS

@im-kikimon

Harriet: James' pallas cat daemon. Assume only James can hear her unless is specified as 'aloud'

Context: James and Lydia are staying with the Bells post season one (dw no spoilers here for the show or the books). James has discovered a love for baking with Helen and a talent for pipe icing. He and Lydia have agreed to help her ice 100ish cupcakes for a commission to the bakery. - I have actually posted a similar scene before if you want to read it, but it DOES CONTAIN SPOILERS for season 1.

This is also part of a larger chapter of a growing fic (~20k words) so some parts have been omitted/added to make it make sense, sorry if the flow is a bit off.

Anita is an OC, she's Helen's sister and is a foster parent. Helen rang her to get some advice about James and Lydia staying with them.

Some cricket terminology:

Whites: cricket is traditionally played in white trousers and t-shirt. This kit is often referred to as ‘cricket whites’ or just ‘whites’

Lad: young man - British slang

Guards: here it’s cricket terminology for where a batsman stands in relation to his stumps.

Stumps: the three sticks behind the batsman in cricket

Bails: little pieces of wood that sit on top of the stumps. If these are knocked off in the right circumstances then the batter is out. They indicate that the stumps have been hit.

James was up early on Sunday morning - hardly surprising as he’d been asleep by eight-thirty last night. He left a note on the chopping board and went for a run with Harriet trotting along beside him.

His thoughts turned to everything he had to sort out, his obligations to the Beaufort name, supporting Lydia...

“But you’ve got cricket with Angus today. We haven’t played since summer,” Harriet interjected, “and we’ve got to ice the cupcakes for the party.”

Good old Harriet for not letting James get too deep in his own head. He was looking forward to both of those things, “Bet you’re looking forward to the cricket, might be some cricket balls.” He teased Harriet.

She stuck her tongue out at him. Harriet had scratched and gnawed four cricket balls beyond repair while James had been focussing on his bowling once, and since then all unattended cricket balls had had to stay in a zipped bag. She didn’t regret it: not her fault they were leather, and stitched, and ball shaped - like yarn, but better.

They passed a florist’s brimming with colourful blooms and James stopped to take it all in. This was (of course) research for his cupcake designs, not because he liked the look and smell of pretty flowers.

A young woman came out to meet him, “Morning!” she greeted him cheerily.

“Morning,” James greeted politely, “what are these ones called?” He gently turned a large cluster of blue flowers towards her.

“Those are hydrangeas,” she smiled, “You shopping for anyone?”

“I’m decorating some cakes this afternoon and need some inspiration.” But, now he thought about it, some flowers might be nice for Helen and Ruby as a thanks for last night, and a live model was always better for drawing with - icing was probably the same. “Actually, could I make a bouquet?”

“Yeah, if you want to pick some out, bring them in and I’ll wrap them and arrange them for you. Take your time. I’m still setting up.”

Thank goodness for Apple Pay. James returned from his run with a gorgeous pink, white, blue and purple bunch of flowers. And a red rose for Ruby, just because.

He’d been out longer than he’d realised. He saw Helen clearing some space in a cupboard - “good morning, süßer, nice run?”, she smiled at him.

“Great. Thanks for your help last night.”

“Of course, süßer." held up the list of his and Lydia's favourite childhood foods they'd made last night, some of the baked goods had green stars next to them, “I was going to go food shopping this afternoon. I noticed I used to make quite a few of these at the bakery before we slimmed down. I’m happy to buy you some supermarket stuff, but I still have the original recipes if you’d like to try some at-home baking?”

James felt his eyes widen. “You made the brookies? And the apricot-honey things?” He couldn’t believe it, after his mum had stopped bringing them home from her commute, he’d never been able to find those again, and the Beaufort cooks had never got it just right.

“I’d love that.” He said sincerely. Speaking of at-home baking…

He pulled the bouquet out from behind his back, “I passed the florist. The brief was pink, blue, white, and purple flowers, right?” he suddenly felt embarrassed; he’d never given a woman flowers before, even if she was Ruby’s mum.

“Oh they’re perfect! That’s very thoughtful of you.” Helen exclaimed and sniffed them. She didn’t mention the rose. “I think you and Angus are leaving for cricket at half-nine, but you’ll be back by one so we can do them after lunch?”

James nodded, “Would it be okay if we listened to some of the prescribed podcasts while we ice? Just as background..” he trailed off. ‘Idiot’, he thought, ‘this was supposed to be fun and here you are wanting to listen to-’

“-That’s a good idea.” Helen cut off his thoughts, “I hope you don’t mind but I called Anita again while you were out. I just wanted some more on how I could help with the preparation and school and stuff like that. She said that creative stuff like this is perfect for prep, listening without distraction might be pretty depressing.” Anita had also recommended positive enforcement of good behaviour, so she continued, “Well done for asking. I know it’s hard to ask for what you need.”

James felt his cheeks heat, “I’ll go and shower”, and beat a hasty retreat. He still had the rose for Ruby. He should be able to catch her before she left for her shift.

Percy and the Range Rover arrived right on time. Percy handed James his Maxton Hall cricket whites, “Good morning, sir. Your cricket bag is in the boot.”

“Thanks Percy,” James ran back inside to change while Percy loaded Angus and the chair into the car. James had just jumped in the shower when Harriet reminded him that he didn’t have any other sports wear besides his (now-stinky and sweaty) running kit. A quick call to Percy had remedied that.

James got into the car.

“I saw Ruby looking very happy this morning, that got anything to do with you?” Angus smirked as he handed James a tupperware of sandwiches. Neither he nor Helen had seen James eat that morning so Helen made something just in case…

“Oh thank you”, James took the food. He hadn’t realised how hungry he was. “I popped by the florist this morning on a run. They had some roses, and, well, turns out Ruby likes roses.” He shrugged, he’d picked it up on a whim, really. No real thought behind it.

He looked out the window and ate the sandwiches, trying to avoid more questioning. ‘It wasn’t that big of a deal’, he thought. ‘It’s just a flower.’

“It’s cute though,” Harriet teased him aloud from her seat. She loved Range Rover heated seats - they were so much better than the Merc’s.

“You’re such a girl.” James teased her back. It was an inside joke between them.

He missed Percy and Angus stifling their laughter in the front seats.

…

A few Adidas-track-suited local boys decided that James was an easy target in his pristine Maxton Hall whites and expensive kit, “Hey posh boy! Wrong club innit?”, “The fuck you doin’ere?” Their jibes echoed around the sports hall.

“He’s with me, lads.” Angus interjected firmly. “He plays the same cricket we do. Josh, Wills, pad up. We’re working on guards today.”

Jams was impressed by how quickly they fell in line under Angus, and the session continued calmly with only the occasional jibe. He’d rarely experienced this sort of bullying - what with his expensive private school education and closely engineered circle of friends - but he ignored it easily thanks to his father’s training in Beaufort Nonchalance.

Cricket was one of the very few things he and Mortimer had bonded over. Mortimer had had some nets permanently constructed at the mansion so they could practise year round: the result was that James was seriously good at cricket.

When it was time to go into the nets, James warmed himself up slowly; starting with some basic and slow ones, then gradually getting faster, spinning more. He was fast outstripping Josh and Wills as batsmen, watching them get frustrated as they missed and had to right the stumps every time (they’d given up on bails).

James let rip: alternating fast bowling with different spins, watching as their frustration boiled over.

Angus called it after Josh swore and flinched away from a particularly fast one, “Alright,” He flashed a torch he kept in his pocket until he had everyone’s attention. “Let’s switch batters. James and Callum, pad up!” He made a batting motion with his hands.

James and a ginger lad jogged over to the kit pile where Harriet was lounging about with the other daemons. It took James a moment to recognise her in the form of an Italian Greyhound. He narrowed his eyes at her and she privately replied, “If I’m fetching cricket balls, I’m doing it comfortably.”

James shrugged, ‘good paparazzi cover’ he guessed, and turned to the ginger boy.

Angus saw them shake hands. Callum was seventeen, basically deaf, and didn’t have many close friends at the club on account of going to a special school. He also knew that Callum liked spending time with people without necessarily talking to them - on account of the extra effort it took to make out conversation with hearing aids - perfect for James.

He overheard Josh and William muttering as they left the nets, “crazy fucker”, “what the fuck is a player like that doin ‘ere?” Angus let them go, he figured they’d learned their lesson.

To absolutely no-one's surprise, James’ batting was also excellent. One of the boys’ dads who stuck around to help sidled up to Angus, “With a player like that, we might just win the league. Where'd you find him?”

Angus didn’t take his eyes off the nets, “He’s one of Ruby’s schoolmates, he’s staying with us for a while.”

“Maxton Hall,” the father read the crest of James’ bag, “that the posh one up the road?”

Angus saw the ‘how do you afford that?’ question coming and shut it down quickly. “Yeah, Ruby’s on scholarship. I dunno if we’ll be able to keep him, but the other lads are copying him, so however long we do get him, we’ll see some permanent improvement.”

It was true: Josh and Will aside, the other boys had watched James’ bowls intently, and they’d all been chatting with him in the queue. It seemed that James fitted into this little club quite nicely.

#maxton hall #james beaufort #bellfort #james x ruby #ruby bell #maxton hall - daemon au #headcanon Angus being a keen sportsman before the accident and maybe even plays wheelchair cricket #this headcanon is as serious as the bow cannon on a warship if that makes sense

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harlowapollinia258 · 1 month

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dutifullyfoulperfection · 2 months

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Cricket Kit in Mumbai: The Ultimate Guide for Cricketers

home to some of the finest cricket equipment stores. Whether you're an aspiring cricketer or a seasoned professional, finding the right Cricket Kit in Guwahati is essential for enhancing your performance on the field.

This comprehensive guide will take you through the essentials of choosing the perfect cricket kit in Mumbai, ensuring you make an informed decision.

Why Choosing the Right Cricket Kit Matters

Cricket is not just a game; it's a passion that demands precision, skill, and the right equipment.

The right cricket kit can significantly impact your performance, providing comfort, safety, and confidence.

In a city like Mumbai, where cricket is a way of life, having top-notch gear is a necessity for every player.

Key Components of a Cricket Kit

A complete cricket kit in Mumbai comprises several essential items. Let's delve into the details of each component:

1. Cricket Bats

The cricket bat is the most crucial piece of equipment for any cricketer. Choosing the right bat involves considering factors such as weight, balance, and willow type. In Mumbai, you can find a wide range of bats made from English willow and Kashmir willow. English willow bats are preferred for their superior performance, while Kashmir willow bats are more affordable.

2. Cricket Balls

Cricket balls come in various types, including leather, synthetic, and tennis balls. Leather balls are the standard for professional matches, offering durability and a consistent bounce. It's essential to select high-quality balls that adhere to the regulations of the game.

3. Protective Gear

Safety is paramount in cricket. The protective gear in a cricket kit includes helmets, gloves, pads, thigh guards, arm guards, and abdominal guards. Investing in high-quality protective equipment ensures maximum safety while playing.

4. Cricket Clothing

Comfortable and breathable clothing is vital for peak performance. Cricket whites, jerseys, trousers, and caps are standard attire. Look for moisture-wicking fabrics that keep you cool and dry during intense matches.

5. Footwear

Proper footwear enhances grip and agility on the field. Cricket shoes with spikes are ideal for turf pitches, while rubber-soled shoes work well on synthetic surfaces. Ensure your shoes offer good ankle support and comfort.

Top Cricket Equipment Stores in Mumbai

Mumbai boasts several renowned cricket equipment stores. Here are some top recommendations:

1. SG (Sanspareils Greenlands) Showroom

Known for its high-quality cricket gear, the SG showroom offers a wide range of products, from bats to protective equipment. The staff is knowledgeable and can assist you in selecting the right gear based on your requirements.

2. Nike Sports Mall

Located in the heart of Mumbai, Nike Sports Mall features an extensive collection of cricket equipment. The store offers personalized fitting services to ensure your gear is tailored to your needs.

3. Decathlon

Decathlon is a popular choice for affordable yet reliable cricket equipment. Their wide range of products caters to both beginners and professionals. The store also provides in-store demos to help you make informed decisions.

4. Champion Sports

Champion Sports is renowned for its specialized cricket gear. The store stocks products from leading brands and offers customization services for bats and protective gear.

Factors to Consider When Buying a Cricket Kit

Selecting the right cricket kit involves more than just choosing the best brands. Here are some factors to consider:

1. Budget

Determine your budget before you start shopping. Mumbai offers cricket equipment at various price points, so it's essential to find gear that fits your financial plan.

2. Skill Level

Your skill level influences the type of equipment you need. Beginners may opt for more affordable options, while advanced players might invest in high-end gear for better performance.

3. Personal Preferences

Consider your playing style and personal preferences. For instance, some players prefer lightweight bats for faster shots, while others might opt for heavier bats for powerful hits.

4. Brand Reputation

Reputable brands like SG, Nike, and Kookaburra are known for their quality and durability. Investing in gear from trusted brands ensures you get value for your money.

Maintaining Your Cricket Kit

Proper maintenance of your cricket kit prolongs its lifespan and ensures optimal performance. Here are some tips:

1. Regular Cleaning

Clean your gear after every match to remove dirt and sweat. Use mild soap and water for bats and gloves, and ensure they are completely dry before storage.

2. Proper Storage

Store your equipment in a cool, dry place away from direct sunlight. Use bat covers and padded bags to protect your gear from damage.

3. Timely Repairs

Address any wear and tear immediately. Replace worn-out grips, repair damaged pads, and re-string your bat if necessary to maintain its performance.

Conclusion

Choosing the right cricket kit in Mumbai can significantly enhance your game. By considering the factors mentioned above and exploring the top stores in the city, you can find the perfect gear tailored to your needs. Invest in quality equipment, maintain it well, and enjoy the thrill of the game with confidence and safety.

#cricket kit

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dex-xe · 4 years

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What do you think the ghosts would be like in modern day, because I think Mary would be a cottagecore lesbian and Robin would be a gamer. Basically I’m just asking for the modern au I’ve been wishing to hear from you for forever! :D

Okay so I’m well pumped for this!! I’ll give it a good go but I also wanna make like aesthetic boards for them all too at some point but I’m just so busy. So maybe some time in the future

So yeh,, and if yall have anything in particular you wanna talk about like with this or any other things then let me know!!

My inbox is HERE if people wanna chat :)

Robin would definitely be a gamer, anon!! I hadn’t thought about that before but you’re so right!! His chess skills would 100% transfer to him being epic at video games. He’d get really excited and over enthusiastic and like jumps up and down when he wins. He’d carry a switch with him everywhere, definitely. He’d also be a conspiracy nut in modern times as well and he’d also visit the planetarium like twice a week, he might actually work as a guide at the planetarium once he recovered from the flat Earth phase XD For some reason I’ve got an image of him in like oversized jumpers and skinny jeans, he just strikes me as the type, and he’d definitely keep the messy hair and kinda lopsided grin.

Humphrey is a library kinda guy, he’d be constantly carrying a pile of history books with him everywhere. He’d be some kind of teacher or preferably a university lecturer because he strikes me as a clever fella. He would also be super kind and like he’d be the one that all the students would go to for help,, think like him talking to Fanny at the wedding. He’d wear neatly pressed trousers and professional shirts for sure,, presentable man. He’d also wear glasses, no reason but he 100000% would. Time for a quick game of: would Humphrey actually wear glasses or is Max projecting his attraction to glasses-wearers on fictional characters?? What are your bets, folks??

You are so right about Mary,, she’d definitely be into the whole cottagecore aesthetic!! Like living in the country and baking her own bread like fullyyyyy. As for work,, she’d own a small business of some kind, maybe like a little cookery school. Idk why I think that but yes definitely. She’d keep like the long skirts and like pinafore dress and everything and like totally carry a tote bag everywhere with her. She’d also be very into funky earrings, I have no idea why but she’s got major earring vibes you know??

Kitty would be super kind and lovely obviously and like a really good friend to everyoneeee. I think she’d be very into fashion and like works to style all her friends, whether they want it or not. She’d love dresses or oversized jumpers just generally like cute clothes. She’d be very inspired by Alison obviously, she also strikes me as the dungaree type.

Thomas is a pretentious indie boy I don’t make the rules. Personality wise I know someone who is the spitting image of modern Thomas, like writing his own poetry in the forest and setting it to acoustics in the style of M*rrisey and then serenading beautiful women who just don’t wanna hear it XD He would dress like an indie boy too,, all button up shirts and huge trousers. He carries leather notebooks and a guitar and generally thinks he’s very cool.

Fanny would be super cool in modern day and really lovely. She’d also be a big book nerd and read romance novels and like Jane Austen and stuff. ALSO true crime buff,, her comments in Bump in the Night show she has a talent for crime XD She’d still wear the long skirts but jeans would be iconic for her.

I’m gonna suggest the Captain’s a mixture of Humphrey and Pat (who we’ll get on to) in that he’d be a book nerd for sure and constantly reading about history and WWII. But I’d be inclined to say he wouldn’t be in the military cause it would be very different to the war but he’d definitely still be the kinda outdoorsy cricket guy type. He’d for sure be a guy for warm coloured jumpers and corduroy jeans. And glasses!! Round two of is Max projecting attractive traits onto attractive actors, place ya bets!!

Obviously both Pat and Julian are close to modern day so not that different,, but yeh Pat would still be a scoutmaster and wonderful parent to Daley. God I love him so much. He’d love big jumpers and cuffed jeans and fluffy socks and huge round glasses. He also usually carries a backpack with a full first aid kit and a change of clothes and drinks and snacks because he’s a caring guy who will do anything to help people,, I love him so much god.

Julian is still a Tory MP obviously and like very very Tory. He’d be constantly jetting off across Europe for various parties and trips with friends. As for clothes: trousers. Just, any trousers. His suits are obvious but on weekends he definitely wears the tightest jeans known to man,, iconic.

I really enjoyed this and got way too into it like usual but yeh!! Thanks anon for asking,, but yeh always open to new ideas in my inbox!!

#max's ghost post #bbc ghosts

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celtics534 · 5 years

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Harry, Baby, Hurry Through the Window Tonight

As promised, the hinny Christmas fic! Huge thank you goes out to @gryffindormischief and @thedistantdusk for being awesome and helping out with this cute story. Written for the SIYE challenge.

Another Muggle AU based from the prompt:Okay, he’s not Father Christmas, but he did have a very good reason for breaking into the house.

Also Read On: FF.net and AO3

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Ginny flicked on her bedroom light at the second loud crash. She had bolted out of bed when the first thud echoed from the kitchen. Because the cat had been snuggled beside her, Ginny had no idea what or who it could be; she lived on her own.

She rose off the mattress slowly, hoping to avoid making the old frame creak. Grabbing the cricket bat from beside the bedroom door, she cautiously stepped out into the corridor. She didn’t live in a large flat. Just a few basic rooms, such as a kitchen and toilet. Hell, the kitchen was only separated from the sitting room by a small island tabletop.

The house was dark, but Ginny knew the layout of her ground-floor flat well. She stepped over the dumping spot for her team kit, which never seemed to make it into the laundry bin at first. She then dodged the recently arisen Christmas tree near the sofa. The kitchen was cast in a half-light from the streetlamp outside, giving Ginny a view of a dark shadow crouched near the sink.

Not giving it a second thought, Ginny raised the bat up high bring it down as hard as she could on the figure.

"Fuck!" The figure spun on its heels, keeping low to the ground but now raising arms to cover its head. Ginny brought the weapon back up high, more than ready to swing again when the man made a stop gesture. "Wait. I can explain."

"So can I." Ginny brought the bat down to his shoulder with a satisfying smack. "You broke into my house."

The man --and now Ginny knew it was a man -- nodded as he crawled sideways, trying to get out of her swinging zone. "Yes I did, and I'm sorry about that, but it was the first place I found with an unlocked window!"

"Were you looking for an easy score?" Ginny followed him as he scooted across the floor, her bat at the ready. "Because if so, you’ve got another thing coming!"

"Easy score?" She saw the man blink as he passed in a long beam of the street light. His eyes made her pause. They were hypnotic green. He shook his head wildly. "No! I wasn't coming to rob you. I was trying to get away."

Ginny held her pose, bat ready for the next swing, but her brow furrowed. "Get away from what?"

The man kept his hands up, his palms showing. "Can I stand up to tell you? The floor is rather uncomfortable."

She considered saying no; she didn't want him to have any advantage. But instead, she nodded. When he rose onto his knees, Ginny kept her voice low and menacing like Bill had instructed her all those years ago; it kept fear in her opponent. "You make one wrong move and I aim for the side of your head. And I don't miss."

His eyes went wide as he nodded. "Fair enough." When he got to his feet, Ginny couldn't help but give him a once over. Not only were his eyes entrancing, but he was fit. Really fit. Messy black hair stuck up in odd, strangely appealing angles on the top of his head, which somehow worked well with the scruff growing on along his jawline. Fuck. If robbing houses wasn't his career, then he must be a model.

Don't go there, girl, Ginny scolded herself. Now was not the time or place. The man was a full head taller than her so she had to look up in order to see his eyes;she wanted to be on guard for any changes, not just because they were so… provocative.

"So I guess I'll start with my name." He gave her an awkward yet way-too-endearing smile. "I'm Harry."

Looks and a name to match royalty. Fuck, Ginny! She pushed her ridiculous musings aside. "All right, Harry." Ginny gestured with her chin towards the stools that sat by the island. "Why are you in my flat?"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"So just to get this straight." Ginny pointed the uneaten half of her reindeer-shaped biscuit. "This bloke at the pub thought you were making a move on his girl, but really she had made a move on you. So you ran away because he had mates ready to beat you up. You choose a random road and decided to try and hide in one of the flats. The first few windows were locked but mine wasn't, because I'd burnt dinner last night and needed to open the window to let the smoke out." She quirked a brow. "Does that about sum it up?"

Harry nodded, taking a sip from the chipped mug that Ginny had given him. This had become one of the weirdest days of his life. It had started with that handsy girl in the bar, and now he was having tea and biscuits with the woman who's flat he'd broken into. After he'd started his tale, Ginny had started the kettle, and now thirty minutes later, they sat together like best mates.

Really though… Harry couldn't help but like Ginny. She was inquisitive, funny (based on the comments made during his storytelling), and not to mention she had one hell of a swing. And none of that even started to cover how fucking attractive she was. At first, he'd considered letting her keep swinging that bat at him if it meant he could stare at her.

"So there is just one thing that I don't quite understand." Ginny licked at her upper lip, removing a few stray crumbs. Harry had to force himself to focus on her words rather than her movements. "Why did you try to open windows? That just seems like an odd choice to make."

He nodded. She made a good point. "Honestly... I heard their voices yelling down the street and I just went into a ‘get the fuck out of the way’ mode. I didn't really think. It was a first instinct."

Ginny smirked an all too sexy smirk. "Quick on your feet there, Harry."

Was it normal to get aroused from someone saying his name? Harry swallowed hard, hoping his cheeks didn't give away his current -- thoughts. “Well, I mean...” His hand came to rub the back of his neck. “They don’t let just anyone become a bobby.”

“Hmmm.” Ginny’s smile became mischievous. “That true. Gotta be careful with who you trust with handcuffs.”

Harry, who had just taken a bite from his biscuit, started to choke. He coughed, clearing his lungs of the offending cake.

Ginny laughed, reaching across the small table to pat his back. “Really, I should be asking to see your warrant card.”

Through sharp intakes of breath, Harry reached into his trousers pocket and pulled out the little wallet he kept his card in. He flipped the cover off, revealing his horrendous photo. Ginny examined it for a long moment, taking in all the information, before nodding in satisfaction. “I guess you’re safe from my bat.” She winked. “For now.”

“Much obliged,” Harry said through large breaths.

She smiled at him, leaning back into her chair. They sat in comfortable silence, the sounds of merry crowds milling outside filtered by the thick flat walls. Harry tried to keep himself from staring at Ginny, but it was a nearly impossible challenge. His eyes flickered between the freckles that spread across her cheeks and nose and the few strands of hair that remained out of the messy ponytail falling over her dark brown eyes… her bewitching eyes. Pull it together Potter!

He cleared his throat, nodding towards the last biscuit on the plate. “Wanna split it?”

Ginny cocked her head, squinting at him in consideration. After a moment she smiled and nodded. “I guess in the Christmas spirit, I’ll share.” She broke the wafer in half and handed one side to Harry. “But just so you know, normally I wouldn’t share.”

“Well, then I feel honored.” Harry bowed his head at her before taking a bite.

She snorted, biting off the top of Santa’s hat. “So, now that you’re a wanted man, what’s your plan for the night?”

Harry shrugged. “I guess I could go back to Remus’. I was supposed to meet an old college friend at the pub but he never showed, and”-- he checked his phone-- “never even texted to tell me what happened.”

Ginny shook her head. “Some mate you have there.”

“He probably got distracted by his girlfriend.” Harry rolled his eyes. “His excuse will be something along the lines of, he won’t see her for a week.”

“Wow, your mate and my brother would get along swimmingly. Sometimes I think my brother will follow her in the loo -- and not to do anything that would get them on Santa’s naughty list. He just because he can’t be apart from her.”

Harry laughed. “Joined at the hip?”

“To say the least.” Ginny shook her head. “But back to you, my friend. What’s Harry’s new big bad Christmas Eve.” She glanced at the clock above the stove. “Make that Christmas Day plans?”

“Oh, you know, going gallivanting across London. Find the blokes from before, challenge them to a duel to the death, win, impress all the women that have gathered around our battle and then find my future wife in the crowd. You know, a normal Christmas miracle.”

Ginny stared at him for a moment, her mouth agape, before she started laughing so hard her shoulders shook.

Warmth spread through Harry’s chest as she laughed. Fuck, she had an adorable laugh.

“You, my good sir,” Ginny spoke through the tail end of her guffaws. “Have high holiday hopes.”

He shrugged, hoping to feign nonchalance, but really his head was concocting a holiday fantasy around him and her. “What about you then?” His voice dripped with sarcasm, that the smile on his lips diluted. “What were you doing home on this fine eve?”

Ginny brought the tea mug up to her lips, taking a sip before replying, “If you must know, I was already in bed. I have a long drive tomorrow morning and I wanted to leave early.”

“Where are you going?” Harry tried to keep his tone casual while his mind played through different scenarios, all of which ended with her meeting her ruggedly handsome boyfriend for Christmas tea and having their own little present exchange.

“My family always gets together for presents. Typically I would be there tonight and we’d watch Love, Actually, but I had to work today so I figured I’d just leave tomorrow morning.” Ginny’s smile became wistful. “I thought about watching before bed tonight, but --” She shrugged.

“It’s not the same,” Harry spoke quietly, knowing exactly what she meant. He knew what it was like to put off traditions that had once been an integrated part of the holidays. Ever since Sirius had…

When she locked eyes with him, Harry was certain there was more than just understanding passing between them. Her gaze seemed to ignite something inside him, making his whole body tingle.

“Would you like to watch it?” Ginny’s laid-back tone didn’t match the ardent look in her eyes. “I have the DVD somewhere around here.”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, that sounds nice.”

Ginny beamed at him, making his heart race like he’d run a marathon. She stood from her chair and gestured towards the sitting room. “If you can figure out the entertainment system, I’ll make us some popcorn.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Ginny pressed her nose into the warm pillow, refusing to let go of the satisfying feeling of being snuggled up in such a pleasant blanket. When the tip of her nose collided with something hard, her eyes opened in confusion. All she could see was green. Her pillowcase wasn’t green…

She pulled away from Harry’s shirt, quickly becoming aware of her surroundings. Her sitting room sofa, a throw blanket, Harry’s back against the back of the sofa, his arm resting over her hip. Ginny was too shocked to move. What the fuck had happened last night?

As if it were a film, her mind replayed the previous night. Settling down to watch Love, Actually, talking throughout the movie, scooting closer to share the blanket, how her head had used his shoulder as a pillow.

Okay, Ginny forced herself to take calming breaths, which didn’t really help anything seeing as it just filled her lungs with Harry’s woodsy scent. How does he smell so good? She mentally shook herself. Not the time, Ginny!

Slowly, she lifted Harry’s arm off her. As gently as she could, Ginny rose off the cushions, hoping not to wake Harry. Ginny picked her phone off the coffee table, checking the time. She had just over an hour before she wanted to leave for her parents’ house.

Ginny considered her options. She could wake Harry and kick him out, wake him up and talk with him, or just leave him and make herself some breakfast. It wasn’t a hard decision, as her stomach growled loudly.

It didn’t take her long to scramble some eggs and toast. As she took the kettle off the hot mat, a groan came from the sitting room. Ginny considered her options again. Deciding it would just be easier to keep everything natural, she grabbed another mug from the cupboard.

When Harry’s head stuck up over the back of the sofa, shivers ran up Ginny’s spine. She’s always had a thing for messy dark hair, and mix that with everything else Harry had going for him… I swear to God, if you don’t calm the fuck down, girl.

“And here I was gonna bring you breakfast on the sofa.” Ginny laughed as Harry nearly fell off the cushions to look at her. His charming green eyes blinked rapidly.

“I -- uh --” Harry’s voice was alluringly rough, and Ginny had to contain another shiver. He cleared his throat. “Not that your sofa wasn’t comfy or anything, but why did I sleep on it last night?”

Ginny snorted. “Because I wasn’t gonna let my almost robber sleep in my bed.”

Harry started at that. “That’s not what I --”

“We fell asleep watching the film last night,” Ginny interrupted, hoping to avoid giving Harry a heart attack.

“We --” Harry stood from the sofa and made his way over into the small kitchen. “Oh, right.” He stopped in beside the table, his forearm resting on the back of the chair. “Well, happy Christmas. I didn’t have time to get you anything, sorry.”

Ginny laughed. “Seems we’re both forgetful. Will you settle for a good breakfast?”

“Best present I’ve received all year.”

It shouldn’t feel so natural, Ginny thought as Harry set the table with utensils from the drying rack. She shouldn’t feel comfortable with him eating at her table. Fuck, she definitely should not want to crawl back into his arms. But there was something about Harry that was just -- magnetic.

They ate, chatting about nothing and yet everything. She brought up how excited she was to spend Christmas with her little nieces. Harry smiled as he told her about getting to spend the holiday with his old university mate. They talked well after their plates were clean. Ginny knew it was getting closer to the time she needed to leave, but she didn’t want to.

It wasn’t until they were cleaning the plates together (her washing, him drying), that time became real again.

“What time are you leaving?” Harry asked as he placed the dry fork into the drawer she’d shown him.

Ginny looked at the clock. “I should have left five minutes ago.”

“Oh.” Harry’s tone was casual, but Ginny swore she saw his shoulders drop. “I guess I should get going, then.”

Ginny wanted to say no. She wanted to ask him to stay, which was completely ridiculous. And yet, she wanted him to be there when she returned from her parents. Ginny wanted to curl back up on that sofa and watch another film… or not watch a film.

She was so distracted she didn’t notice that she’d been scrubbing the same plate for entirely too long until Harry’s hand came over to stop the motion. He’d moved in close, his eyes full of concern. “Are you okay?”

He was so close she only needed to lean up in order to connect their lips. It would be so simple, she even started rising onto her toes before something stopped her. She pulled back, clearing her throat. “I’m fine. Just thinking about the day.”

Harry nodded, his cheeks turning pink. “Right.” He put the flannel down on the counter before grabbing his coat off the back of the kitchen chair. He turned back to her, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. “Ginny, I -- I --” He sighed. “Enjoy your Christmas.” Then he was gone, closing the front door behind him with a gentle click.

Ginny put her head down on the kitchen counter, regret coursing through her entire body. Why the fuck hadn’t she at least gotten his number? She lifted her head to see it was well past the time she should have left. Sighing heavily, she went to go gather her presents. She needed to get going or face her mother’s wrath for being late.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Harry tried to flatten his hair for the sixth time in ten minutes. There was no reason for his nerves. He was just stopping at his mate's childhood home for a bit. Harry just wished Ron had told him about the trip to Devon. When Ron has asked him to spend the holiday with him, Harry had mistakenly assumed he'd meant at his flat.

"Knock it off." Ron laughed as he turned down a long dirt road. "I told you, my mum's gonna love you, despite your inability to comb your hair."

He sent Ron a rude gesture, which just made the redhead laugh harder. The drive curved every which way, making Harry grateful he didn't get car sick. After a few minutes of winding this way and that, they pulled up in front of an old farmhouse. The foundation was off-kilter, making the rest of the building lean, but Harry loved it. It had such a homely charm between all the Wellington boots on the front porch and the chickens roaming the side garden.

Ron parked the car between a Land Rover and old Ford. He reached into the back seat, pulling a bag full of wrapped gifts. "Just a little something for everyone." Ron shrugged off Harry's inquisitive look.

They made their way through freshly shoveled paths that lead to the front door. Without knocking, Ron walked into the house calling out greetings. Harry followed behind him, looking around at all the framed photos and comfy sitting room furniture. Three men chatted while a blonde woman tended an infant.

"Ah, you must be Harry." A pleasant voice spoke from the adjoining doorway. A balding man held out his hand. "I'm Ron's father, Arthur."

Harry took the offering. "Thank you for having me."

Arthur's smile was just as calming as his voice. "Of course! Molly and I have been excited to meet the famous Harry Potter. Let me introduce you to everyone." Arthur placed a warm hand on Harry's shoulder, guiding him through the room. "There's Bill, Fred, and George over in the chairs there." He pointed to the group of men, two of whom had identical smirks. "Fleur, who is married to Bill, and their youngest, Dominique."

Fleur looked up from the baby and smiled at him. Arthur roved over to the doorway he'd come from, which lead to the kitchen. While the sitting room has been peaceful with a crackling fire, the kitchen was a storm of activity.

"And this is my lovely wife, Molly." Arthur beamed at older woman mixing some sort of batter. "Molly, Ron's friend Harry is here." Molly stopped mixing, placing the bowl down on the counter before wiping her hands on her already covered apron.

Harry expected a handshake or maybe a pat on the shoulder as a greeting, but Molly didn't do anything in halves. She pulled Harry into a bear of a hug, making him worry about his ribs cracking. “Lovely to meet you, Harry.”

“You too, Mrs. Weasley.” Harry choked the words out.

When she released him, Harry took a deep breath. “Call me Molly, dear.” She looked over her shoulder at the well-scrubbed table where two women sat. “Oh, you haven’t met Angelina and Alicia. They’re dating the twins.” The two women gave him a welcoming grin as they continued rolling dough. “I would introduce you to our daughter, but she’s out with Vic.” Molly glanced up at the ceiling with an annoyed look, that was negated by the smile on her lips. “I asked her to help me and then like magic she was minding the little one.”

Like a summoning the back door opened wide, letting in a cheering little girl. “I won, Aunt Ginny.”

“That you did, girl, that you did!” That voice. Harry’s heart jumped into his throat, he recognized that voice. Ginny walked in, her smile wide as she looked down at her niece. “But next time you won’t be so lucky.”

Harry knew his jaw must be on the floor, but all he could do was stare. That morning all he’d wanted to do was kiss this woman, but then she’d backed away. He hadn’t wanted to push her, so he’d backed off. But fuck! She had been in his head all day. The way she seemed to heat his entire body with just one look, and how perfect it had felt when her head rested on his shoulder. Harry regretted it the moment he’d walked out her front door, he’d even considered turning around but there had been a voice in his head saying maybe it was just one-sided. That maybe she’d had pulled away from him because she didn’t want to give him false hope.

But when their eyes met in that kitchen, Harry could feel it again. That raw heat, mixed in with shock. Ginny’s mouth fell open. “You!”

“Ginny!” Molly scolded. “That’s no way to greet someone.”

Ginny turned towards her mother, blinking rapidly. After a moment she took a deep breath. “You’re right, Mum.” When her focus came back to Harry, he swore his heart skipped a beat. “So, which one of my brothers is your old uni mate?”

“Ron.” Harry was shocked that words were able to get past his tied tongue. “I -- uh --” He was very aware that everyone in the kitchen was watching them: Arthur and Molly with confused smiles, Angelina and Alicia with grins that were more impishly amused.

Ginny seemed to notice the eyes on them as well because she pointed a thumb over her shoulder towards the back door. “Care for a tour around the garden?”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Ginny couldn’t stop glancing over at the man walking beside her. The entire drive over she’d cursed herself for letting him leave that morning, and now he was at her parents’? She didn’t believe in the idea of fate or destiny, but the moment she’d looked into his gorgeous eyes… Ginny started re-thinking her theory.

"So --" Harry cleared his throat. "Don't have your bat on you, right? Because I know how you respond when someone arrives unannounced."

"What?" Ginny had to reel her mind back to the present. "Oh, right! Well, I always happen to keep a spare in the boot of my car.” She stopped in the middle of the cleared path and pulled Harry to halt by the hand. When his eyes locked onto hers, warmth spread throughout her body like wildfire. She sent him what she hoped was a coy smile. “But if you’re telling me I may need it."

Harry tugged her back as she pretended to head towards her car. His pull was more powerful than she’d expected and Ginny fell right into his chest. Harry pulled back, his cheeks red from more than just the cold. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to -- I, uh --”

Ginny couldn’t take it anymore. What was the point of avoiding -- whatever this was between them? Her mind drifted back the film they’d watch the previous night. “So is this the moment I casually mention I wanna marry you, have loads of sex, and have your babies?”

If Ginny had thought his cheeks were red before, Harry put a tomato to shame at that moment. His mouth fell open as he stared at her. She could see the wheels turning behind his eyes, his memory placing the line. He closed his mouth, a hesitant smile crossing his lips. “How about we start with the second thing on your list and make our way from there?”

“I think...” Ginny wrapped her arms around his neck, bring him to her eye level. “I can live with that.” She pressed her lips to his. It didn’t take long for Harry to respond. His fingers pressed into her hips with a tantalizing pressure. With his body pressed tightly to hers and his scent (that addicting woodsy smell) filling her lungs, everything else seemed to disappear but him.

“Ginny? Oh!” Molly’s voice was the first thing to break through the fog Harry had created. Ginny pulled away to see her mother standing by the back door. In retrospect, she and Harry should have gotten out of sight of the house, but she just hadn’t been able to control herself.

Molly gave them what was supposed to be a sheepish grin, but instead her entire face glowed with delight. “I’m so sorry. I just wanted to know where she left my pie pan, but I’ll just go rummage through the cupboards. Just pretend I was never here.” And just like that, Molly was back in the house.

Ginny snorted. Her mum had never been one to see her children in their relationships. She’d expected to be told to get inside and get to work, but instead, her mother had --

Harry blinked at her, his brow cutely creased in confusion.“What’s so funny?”

“My mum just encouraged me to keep snogging you.” Ginny shook her head, unable to hold back her amusement. “She once made Ron stop holding his girlfriend’s hand.” Her eyebrows creased. “But to be fair that girl was crazy, and everyone knew it. I guessing mum just didn’t like her.”

“Oh.” Harry’s confusion cleared, slowly replaced with a bashful smile. “But you think she likes me?”

Ginny leaned up to kiss him again. “I know I do.” She reluctantly pulled out of his arms. “Hey, you’re staying for supper, right? Would you like to stay for supper?”

“Would you like to stay forever?!”

Ginny turned to the sound of her mother’s voice. Molly was hanging out the kitchen window watching the scene like an enthusiastic film watcher. All that was missing was the popcorn. “Mum!” Ginny yelled across the yard. “What are you doing?”

“I said to pretend I wasn’t there, not that I wouldn’t be there.” Molly’s mischievous smirk was clear even from a distance. “What do you say, Harry dear?”

“I --” Ginny turned back to Harry who was shaking, from what could only be silent laughter. “Oh, don’t encourage her,” she complained.

Harry laughed out loud this time. He pulled her back into his warmth, his mouth inches from hers. “And what will you do to stop me?”

“Ah!” Ginny moved her fingers up to play with the little hairs at the base of his neck. “My bat isn’t my only method of persuasion.” Harry’s breath hitched as she ran her nose along his jaw. Just as her lips hovered over his, she stepped away. “But it is one of my favorites.” She turned and started towards her car.

Looking over her shoulder, Ginny laughed at the dumbfounded look on Harry’s face. Then he shut his gaping mouth and began chasing after her. As he caught her around the middle, his nose pressed into her neck. She spun in his arms and his mouth pressed to hers in a scorching kiss. Ginny had never been happier to have someone break in through her window.

She pulled back, nuzzling her nose to his. “I’ve got to say, Harry. You’re the most satisfying burglar I’ve ever had.”

Harry snorted, “Just wait until I steal your heart.” When he brought his lips back to hers, she had to admit he was off to a good start.

#hinny #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry X ginny #harry potter fan fiction #hinny fanfic #hinny fic #hinny christmas #christmas themed!#christmas fluff

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tehri · 6 years

Text

I need to do it I am not even sorry

////

The box that Drogo Baggins made for his son was perhaps not what one could call pretty. He’d taken every care with it; the cloth had been glued almost seamlessly against the wood of the box. But the choice of cloth had perhaps been a little bit poor. Primula had given him what she had at hand - little patches that she had originally planned to use for mending shirts or trousers, or perhaps for a patchwork quilt. When he had proudly showed her the finished box, she had almost taken it from his hands to throw it in the fire. Orange, blue, green, purple; the colours clashed and made the box look admittedly quite horrid.

But of course Frodo adored it. All it had taken was for Drogo to tell his son that it was for his rocks, and the lad had flung his arms around his father while practically shrieking with joy. And Primula’s relatives, though willing to agree with Primula that the box looked horrid, were quite relieved to find that Frodo’s tendency to collect rocks no longer would result in unfortunate injuries or the uncomfortable realisation that a rock had been stored inside a mattress or under a pillow.

Bilbo had loved the box as much as Frodo had. Every time he came to visit, he would ask his favourite little cousin if any new rocks had been added to the collection. Truth be told, Bilbo did not care much for rocks; but the lad was very enthusiastic and seemed overjoyed to show the old hobbit what he’d found. And said old hobbit would admit, with a smile and a chuckle, that the rocks were indeed quite interesting. Besides, he reasoned, hadn’t he brought home a good deal of strange things as a child? The tale of the fox-kit had become memorable amongst his relatives, and rocks were at least not quite so bad.

When Drogo and Primula passed on, Frodo became more and more withdrawn. Although his mother’s relatives tried to convince him to come for walks with them or to generally spend time with them, he remained seemingly at arm’s length from them and would not come closer. He’d smile and act as though all was well, but the smile would rarely reach his eyes. The box his father had made for him sat untouched on the shelf in his room, and the collection was not brought out or added to for quite a few years.

It wasn’t until he moved to Bag End to live with Bilbo that a change came - nine years after the deaths of his parents. He’d brought all his belongings with him, few though they were, including the box. And while he had been moving his things around in the smial, trying to figure out where he wanted them to be, Bilbo came with a suggestion.

“Why don’t we put your box in the parlour, lad?” the old hobbit said. “I think it’d look excellent near the window. What do you think?”

“Are you sure you would want that, uncle?” Frodo asked. He felt a little doubtful, for he knew all too well that although the box was precious to him, his father’s efforts to decorate it had gone more than a little bit wrong. “It’s just a collection of rocks, after all...”

“Oh, but you are quite mistaken!” Bilbo grinned at the lad and took the box out of his hands. “This is a collection of excellent and very interesting rocks. Yes, I do believe it should be in the parlour where people can see it and admire it.”

He’d hoped, perhaps, that his words would encourage Frodo to start collecting again. Nine years without seeing the excitement and the sheer joy in the lad’s eyes were nine years too many, Bilbo thought; he understood, of course, that his young cousin had been grieving, but he knew also that one could not let oneself become consumed by grief. No, something needed to be done.

Frodo had lived in Bag End for about a month when Bilbo began to return from his walks with a rock or two in hand that he would add to the box. When asked, the old hobbit stated simply that he found rocks that were beautiful or simply interesting - rocks that belonged in the collection.

“I think I’ve found quite a good spot to find them,” Bilbo revealed once. “I could show you, if you’d like.”

And though Frodo perhaps had his doubts - or indeed if knew what his uncle was up to - he did agree to come along on the next walk to see where Bilbo had been finding the rocks.

It wasn’t very far off, as it turned out. On that next walk, Bilbo led the lad down towards the Water and turned to follow a footpath that westwards along its northern shore. As they walked, they chatted about this and that, about gossip they’d heard or news that Bilbo had received from his friends in distant lands. But eventually, Bilbo halted and pointed towards the shallows of the little river.

“See there, where that willow juts out over the water?” he asked. “That’s where I’ve been finding the rocks. It’s quite shallow there, so one needn’t worry about getting more than one’s feet wet.”

And he strode off before Frodo could speak up and waded out into the water. It took only moments before he cried out and stooped down, scooping up a large stone in his hand.

“Look at this,” he laughed. “Look, Frodo! I believe I’ve found a stone mushroom!”

Frodo curiously came a little closer. Bilbo continued to look for stones, and soon Frodo found himself wading out to join his uncle. There was quite a treasure-trove for a collector in the water; little shells, sticks that had been wedged between rocks, a lost fishing hook that Bilbo very nearly stepped on, and of course a multitude of interesting rocks.

When they were finally growing weary, Bilbo straightened and held up the mushroom-shaped rock he’d scooped up, eyeing it critically.

“I believe,” he said out loud, “that I’ll bring this one home. Though I think I shall put it in my study.”

“What on earth for?” Frodo asked, more than a little bewildered. “Why would you keep it there?”

“Because you see, my lad, when I am working and feel that I am stuck on something, I can always look up at the rock and remember that we live in a world where there are stone mushrooms. Which is quite an excellent world, in my opinion.”

And though it took a little bit of wheedling, Frodo ended up bringing home two stones of his own; one star-shaped and one that had a curious spot in its middle that glinted like crystals in the sun.

“Da found one like that,” he revealed on their way back home. “I wanted to put it in the box, but he all but begged me to let him keep it in his pocket instead. For luck, he said. Because nothing could be luckier than a crystal in a stone that he’d found while on a walk with me.”

“Perhaps you could honour that, then,” Bilbo suggested. “Keep it in your pocket for luck - or simply to remember him by. And the star-stone could be added to the collection.”

Frodo laid still as stone beneath the blanket and tried to convince himself to fall asleep, but with the constant noise around them it was an impossible thing to do. Though he did indeed find that the Midgewater Marshes, as Strider had called them, lived up to their name, it was the nightly plague of the crickets - or whatever they were - that he thought grated most on his nerves. “Neeker-breekers”, Sam had called them, and a fitting name it was.

His hand slid into his pocket, finding there something rough and cool that rested comfortably against his palm. He rubbed his thumb over the stone and smiled faintly to himself.

“You’d pitch a fit if you could see me now, da,” he murmured into the night. “Though perhaps you would have done so earlier. It is a shame I couldn’t bring the box, but it must wait for me in Crickhollow until I return.”

He very carefully did not voice the “if” that turned over in his mind; if he returned. If there was any chance at all for him to even reach Rivendell. No, he thought, his mother and father did not need to know that he worried for that. If they did indeed watch over him, they were surely already worrying about it.

#tolkien legendarium #The Hobbit #Lord of the Rings #Bilbo Baggins #Frodo Baggins #Drogo Baggins #Primula Baggins née Brandybuck #Rorimac 'Old Rory' Brandybuck #collecting rocks #Frodo collecting random shit is the most relatable thing in the world to me

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