#hpfemslashnet

[ticklishraspberries]

Happy Thoughts (Ginny/Luna)

Summary: Ginny is overthinking. Luna helps her get rid of the Nargles. (First day of my Femslash February fics! This ship is one of my all time favorites. I hope you enjoy.)

Ginny and Luna were studying by the lake. Well, Ginny was re-reading the same paragraph of her textbook for the tenth time, while Luna was sitting by the edge of the lake, talking to the giant squid. Ginny could faintly hear her apologizing to the squid for how the other students teased him, and it made a fond smile curl on her face.

“I thought you had a Potions essay to do,” she called.

Luna turned around, her hair rippling over her shoulders like the waves of the lake, and she smiled sheepishly. “I wrote about a page of it, but I got distracted.”

Ginny gave a fond chuckle. “I’m not having much luck either. My mind is in a hundred other places.”

Luna looked back to the lake, offering a lofty wave towards it (presumably for the squid), then rose to her feet and plopped down beside Ginny once again. “What kind of places?”

“Quidditch, our OWLs, you know,” she replied. There was one thing she didn’t mention, though: Her crush on her best friend, a certain blonde Ravenclaw who befriended giant squids. It was a double-edged sword, studying with Luna, because while it was a great excuse to spend time together, Ginny never seemed to get any work done, because she was busy stealing glances.

Luna nodded sagely. “Nargles can also contribute to that, you know,” she said.

Ginny smiled fondly. “Can they? Well, I must have a pretty bad case then. Is there a cure?”

“Thinking happy thoughts,” Luna replied.

Most people took what Luna said with a grain of salt, but not Ginny. Even if she didn’t believe in all those funny creatures she described, she wasn’t going to discredit the concept either. Besides, could it hurt to think of some happy things now and then? She allowed her mind to wander. She thought about how Gryffindor won their last Quidditch match, and the Outstanding mark she received on her last Charms essay. She thought about the treacle tart she’d eaten last night and the smell of Luna’s hair. She thought about leaning in and kissing Luna’s lips right then and there, without an ounce of fear or worry.

“Are they starting to clear up?” Luna asked, pulling Ginny out of her daydream.

Ginny smiled. “I think so. Thanks, Luna.”

A rare, mischievous smile curled on the Ravenclaw’s face, and that look alone was enough to give Ginny goosebumps.

“Are you sure you’re happy enough? I don’t know if the Nargles believe you…” Luna said, scooting closer.

Giggles of anticipation were already threatening to spill from Ginny’s lips, but she made no effort to run away. It was something that she and Luna did often, this sort of dance where Ginny pretended she hadn’t been practically begging for it, and Luna obliges her silent demands without pointing out how much Ginny wanted it.

Fingers made contact with Ginny’s sides and wiggled furiously, causing the ginger girl to collapse in a fit of laughter. Luna followed her in earnest, giggling along.

The two rolled around in the grass for a moment, grappling for the upper hand, but Ginny didn’t put up much of a fight, allowing Luna to launch a very effective attack on her stomach, and the Ravenclaw only stopped when her friend’s laughter grew slightly breathless. Then again, Ginny hasn’t asked her to stop.

Ginny was sprawled on the grass, cheeks flushed and hair a mess, and her chest heaved as she caught her breath. “Think the Nargles are gone now?” she asked, grinning.

Luna nodded. “I think so. Your laugh probably scared them away.” Although it sounded like a teasing statement, her tone was matter of fact, and her expression seemed deadly serious.

With a fond shake of her head, Ginny sat back up, pushing her hair out of her face.

“If they come back, I’d be happy to tickle you again,” Luna said. 

Ginny’s blush deepened, gaze fixed on her own knees. “Thanks.”

Luna leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to Ginny’s red cheek. “Anytime.”

[oliivverwood]

respect the unexpected

pansmione + studying and get together for @onlykatelyn

-

Respect is earned, plain and simple. Fact.

Respect wasn't something passed down by family name or by blood; everyone is different. Fact.

Respect is not necessarily akin to admiration. Fact.

Hermione respected Pansy Parkinson. This was a fact.

Pansy was, in simpler terms, her direct Slytherin counterpart in some ways. They of course had no short amounts of differences, and there had certainly been a point where there was no respect at all, but now- Now? Now.

Now, in their eighth year of school, fresh out of a battle that would leave fresh scars on the mind and the body, there was respect.

Pansy Parkinson stayed quiet. She put her head down and she studied. She did not speak to anyone except Malfoy and Nott unless addressed and didn't dare use her scathing remarks on anyone again.

She earned Hermione's respect when she got a higher mark in Arithmancy; full marks plus extra extra credit as opposed to Hermione's full marks plus extra credit.

Hermione did the most rational thing she could think of and approached Pansy in the corner library where she spent all her free time revising.

"May I sit here?" Hermione asked smoothly, seemingly startling Pansy out of her studious trance. The way her knuckles tightened around her quill did not escape Hermione's notice. "Relax, Parkinson. I want to study next to someone who's not making me do their essay, for once."

Pansy did not relax, but she nodded, a sharp movement.

Hermione slid into the seat next to Pansy, setting up her work station and opening the right books. "Now, I didn't quite understand what Vector was on about when she said this about mathemagical fields..."

--

Hermione continued to study with Pansy almost everyday after that. She needed a breather, sometimes, from Harry's frantic theorising about Malfoy and Ron's nagging about revising his essays. She wanted someone to revise her essays, for once.

And Pansy did. Revise her essays, that is.

Pansy's studying habits were routinely, which delighted Hermione to no end. She used the same quetzacoatl feather quills, with a night-sky blue inkpot that always was on her right side. Pansy was left handed. Her notes were always neat and straight and her handwriting was small and clear.

They only talked business, at the beginning, for maybe the first month and a half. Pansy remained cool, calm and collected, answering and asking Hermione questions about the subject at ease, not broaching any other topics.

Until one day, she looked irritated. Upset. It was the face she used to wear back before the war, before Pansy lost her superiority complex. Hermione knew that the other girl wouldn't dare think herself better than anyone nowadays, even if she was. So she asked.

"Knut for your thoughts, Parkinson?" She asked casually. Pansy froze, her quill not moving.

"People are wondering what you're doing, associating with me." She murmured, continuing with her essay as if there was absolutely nothing going on at all, no, she was perfectly fine, she was Pansy Parkinson, perfect pureblood princess. Hermione saw through this act, an effect of years of training. Even though none of it mattered now- the Parkinson name had been dragged through the mud.

"Well, Pansy." Hermione smoothed out her own skirt, making sure to emphasise the first name use. For some reason, she relished the way Pansy stiffened again. "I believe we're studying together."

"Ah." Pansy said. Then, Hermione thought, and was slightly pleased, that she heard Pansy mumble a low, "no shit, Granger."

--

Hermione had always had a thing for intelligence.

It was why Cormac didn't work out. Krum and her weren't on the same wavelength. Ron's clever was a different sort than hers.

Pansy and her were in sync. Their grades were tied for top in the year, some of the top in history. It was astounding. For Pansy, it was a miracle. Pansy had been so pleased, when she found out from Hermione in the library, that she decided to use a sugar quill instead of the quetzacoatl to celebrate. She even offered one to Hermione. It was a hidden gloat.

Hermione had found this insanely adorable, that breaking out a sugar quill was Pansy's idea of celebrating. It didn't hurt to watch Pansy eating it either, her tongue poking out for small kitten kicks or sticking out fully for long drags, up and down and-

Hermione had a thing for Pansy. Fact.

That was fine.

It was okay.

She was acknowledging it.

--

Hermione studied with Pansy for months. People took their focus off them, instead moving on to gossip about other things.

With every day that passed, Hermione's crush grew.

It was an issue.

Maybe not.

When they moved into the restricted section for some personal reading, they walked side by side, shoulders and hips brushing with each step and swing of the arms. The shelves left only a very narrow walkway.

Suddenly, Pansy turned, swinging towards Hermiome, accidentally pushing her back onto the shelf.

"Oh," Pansy murmured. "Sorry, my books are here."

Pansy made to reach for the books, over Hermione's head. Pansy was tall, with long legs and a slim torso and a delicate neck. Hermione looked up slightly as Pansy reached over her head, breath hitching as she realised how close their faces were.

Pansy placed a hand on Hermione's hip. "For balance." She uttered, the trademark smirk gracing her features, and she continued reaching for the book.

There was nobody here.

It was the restricted section.

When Pansy found her book, Hermione leaned in.

--

If Madam Pince saw Parkinson and Granger walk out the restricted section, hand in hand, hair ruffled and shirts buttoned wrong, she didn't say anything.

[moonypadfootprongslily]

romilda/millicent; "you burn me."

[gettinhellaturnt]

hp social media: lavender x parvati

[rarepotterpairs]

h a n n a h  x  s u s a n

she smiles like the sun

[mxrcusflint]

domestic pansmione - requested by @paansyparkinson

hermione’s snapstory: a small flat doesn’t matter when life’s already so full

bonus: 

[bluegrasshole]

These Bandages

Lavender wants to be a Seer. Parvati just wants to be.

Rated M. Parvati/Lavender. 10.6k words. The most difficult fic I’ve ever written, but also one of my favourites. 

At thirteen, Lavender bought instant coffee over the holidays from the muggle druggist ‘round the corner of her house and began drinking it gritty and cold along with her regular cup of tea so she could read both the grounds and the leaves and pretend she knew what they said. At fourteen, Lavender held Seamus Finnigan’s hand under the table at breakfast and Parvati’s over her plate of eggs, tracing the lines in her palm like she’d done countless times before. At sixteen, Lavender slipped into the dorm-room at thirty-six past twelve from a night out at the Astronomy Tower, her collarbone painted with lip-shaped trophies, and sat on her bed cross-legged for an hour, meditating, while Parvati looked on from the next bed over.

[paneville]

pastel lunsy

[oliivverwood]

cracked mirror

pansy/hermione + one sided pining for anon

-

For the third time that day, Pansy had to go fix the pinball machine.

The third time.

After kicking it (which bruised her toe) and shoving it (which bruised her shoulder), and swearing loudly in front of customers, (which ended with Draco bruising her), she finally got sit behind the counter and do nothing.

It was summertime. The time for her to be young, wild and free, but instead, she was working the counter in a dingy as fuck arcade in a crappy two floor strip mall.

She rested her head on her hand, glancing at the clock and glaring at the kid screaming at his mom because he didn't want to leave.

Pansy Parkinson was sure as fuck not having children when she was older.

She and Draco had both gotten caught dealing at school, and in turn they had to serve fifty community service hours. Her cousin Marcus hooked her up with the jobs, and now they were taking tickets from overeager children and scooping sweets into bags in exchange.

Draco had almost pissed himself when he found out. Turns out he was good with the kids.

Sometimes Theo and Blaise dropped by, to laugh at them. That was the most fun Pansy had during her job.

The arcade was a little empty for a Saturday evening. The screaming kid had finally left, drowning the arcade in the whirring and beeping sounds of the machines.

Pansy decided to leave Draco to fend for himself. He could deal with the rest of the customers. She pulled out an almost empty bottle of emerald nail polish and got to work.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tock.

First coat of transparent. Second coat, green. Third coat, green. Last coat, transparent.

She went through the motions methodically, and as soon as she was finished drying her nails and admiring her handiwork, Draco nudged her.

"Look, twelve o' clock." He murmured, wiping down the counter from sticky handprints and bits of candy. Pansy looked up.

A scent of coconut shampoo. Warm, honey colored skin. Inquisitive brown eyes, fierce, challenging at the same time. Walking, hips swaying, sandwiched between Golden Boy and the Ginger Wonder.

Pansy, normally, could have anything she wanted. She was rich. She was pretty. She was cunning.

Hermione Granger was not something she could have.

"Parkinson." Hermione said, not unkindly, her hands on the just-cleaned table. Draco glared at the hands, clenching the cloth in his fist.

She could not have Hermione Granger, not ever, because Hermione Granger and Pansy Parkinson did not get along.

"Welcome to the 'Cade, I'm Pansy Parkinson, how can I help you?" She said, monotonously, company policy. Hermione stiffened, a flash of irritation on her face, and Pansy wished she just said "Granger," instead.

"Thirty tokens, please." Potter said, placing the exact amount of money on the table in front of her. Draco made a choking sound- whether it was because of the counter or Potter, Pansy didn't know.

Pansy jabbed at the register angrily, keeping her face stony and her eyes blank.

Hermione Granger was a trap. On the outside, she was a petite, small parcel wrapped in wool sweaters and plaid skirts, pencils shoved carelessly in her hair and always her head in a book. The look of a perfectly innocent, scholarly young woman. Then she opened her mouth- and she was ruthless, tearing into anyone that crossed her and whoever was lucky enough to be deemed a friend.

Pansy remembered freshman year, when Draco said something nasty to Weasley. Hermione, in all her bucktoothed, bushy haired glory, shoved him into the wall and cornered him. And then sucker punched him.

She'd never say it in front of Draco, but it was awesome.

Pansy remembered sophomore year, when Hermione had talked Ms Umbridge, a racist, sexist, dirty homophobe, into a hole, ripping into her viciously with her words until the bitch had left the room, not before giving Hermione detention for the semester.

She was the backbone of their big three--Potter with his troubled past and his woes, Weasley with his inferiority complex and constantly hurt pride. She was strong.

Pansy could relate to that. She had mothered Draco, Theo and Blaise on many an occasion. She could admire that. She could admire her.

"Thirty tokens." Pansy said stiffly, dropping ten in each of their hands. When he fingers brushed Hermione's open palm, Pansy snatched it back, as if shocked.

At Hermione's nonchalant look, Pansy could tell that she hadn't felt anything at all.

And God, that hurt.

[moonypadfootprongslily]

Physics of Love

Mass is not proportional to volume

A girl as small as a violet

A girl who moves like a flower petal

is pulling me towards her with more force than her mass.

Just then, I am

like Newton’s apple

I rolled towards her without stopping until I fell on her 

with a thump, with a thump thump

My heart 

keeps bouncing between the the sky and the ground

It was my first love. 

(Kim In Yook·Poet, 1963-) 

Ginny Weasley/Zhang Qiu

[gettinhellaturnt]

@polypotterpairs - all female poly ships

Hermione x Ginny x Luna

[oliivverwood]

but i hate to think about you with somebody else

pairing: cho chang/ginny weasley 

summary: girls are often pitted against each other; a study in one sided tension

note: fifth instalment in “a study in pining” 

excerpt: 

Ginny kind of hates Cho.

Cho Chang walks around swinging her pin-straight black hair that shines under the rare days of sun and bats the long eyelashes of her almond-shaped brown eyes and has a fucking bounce in her step and when she smiles it always reaches her eyes and she has a dimple on her left cheek and she bites her lip when she's trying to hold in a laugh and when she does laugh she holds a hand to her mouth prettily as her shoulders shake and she squeezes her eyes closed and when class is over she undoes her tie and unbuttons the top button revealing smooth collarbones under warm skin and-

She doesn't even get it.

Harry Potter is a world renowned hero and Cho fucking Chang doesn't see him spill his pumpkin juice when she smiles at him, doesn't see him trip over his own two feet when she walks into his line of vision and Ginny has been trying to get Harry Potter's attention since she was ten and-

It just isn't fair.

read on ao3

[oliivverwood]

all the colours of the rainbow

pairing: tracey davis/pansy parkinson

summary: tracey looks at the model and thinks of blue, purple and red. alternatively, tracey's pretty shit at art. then she isn't.

note: this is like a rare fucking pair i know maybe two facts about tracey and it’s that her first name is tracey and her last name is davis lol enjoy

excerpt: 

Dean Thomas at the front of the class couldn't help but let out a snort. She directed her frown at him, and instantly he backtracked. 

"No, no, sorry." He said hastily. "My boyfriend drinks brandy in the morning as well. It's the Irish in him."

Pansy's irritation seemed to ebb away, and she smiled wryly. "I like him already."

They started conversing, and Tracey clenched her fist, more angry at the fact that she was jealous, and not out of jealousy itself. It was irrational, she knew, and it made absolutely no sense to be cranky at Dean because she knew that he and Seamus Finnegan were, like, the cutest couple on campus but-

She glanced at Pansy, who's neck was thrown back in laughter at something Dean said, the pale curve of her throat and perfectly straight teeth in her mouth.

Tracey, as she made her way over to get loose leafs of paper, knocked into Dean's easel, effectively spilling paint all over the floor in artful splatters of yellows and pinks (as if Pansy was a yellow and pink type of girl, fat fucking chance, she was all purples and blues and harsh reds and-)

Pansy caught her eye, caught Tracey's slightly breathless, slightly smug smirk, and gave Tracey a look that was all too knowing for her to feel at ease when she sat back at her easel. 

read more on ao3

[oliivverwood]

your strange addiction

pairing: pansy parkinson/ginny weasley

summary: ginny's assignment was to assassinate pansy parkinson. things didn't go to plan - alternatively, ginny had one job- pansy threw a wrench into her plans effortlessly

notes: this is an organised crime au- there are non-graphic depictions of violence and murder and mentions of blood

"I have a job for you." Harry called, his voice tinny and quiet on the burner phone.

Ginny had been waiting for further instructions in a crappy motel on the outskirts of Nice, France, the room reeking of old cigarettes and her own cinnamon perfume. When she was stuck in places like this, she wondered if the jobs were worth it.

"2,000 pounds."

Ginny smiled. Now these jobs. They were worth it.

"Her name is Pansy Parkinson. She's an heiress- her father is a drug lord in Paris. He's been operating for around a decade. He's sick."

"Oh?" Ginny hummed, inspecting her nail polish. Chipped green. She'd need to get them done soon.

"She's taking over the family business soon. The Greengrasses want her dead. I'll be sending you her information shortly."

"Cheers." Ginny murmured, and with that, Harry hung up.

read on ao3