a/n: This is my adult-only account. I do not take unsolicited fic requests.
This is a mature version of my self-indulgent fic 'i've come home'. If you enjoyed this, try reading the fanfics on my general account that are under the name displayheartcode.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling.
Title: let your love surround me
Word Count: 871
Summary: 5 + 1 times Harper Potter comes by Ginny's room in the summer after the war. [Gender AU – F/F]
i.
The first time happened after Harper changed bedrooms at the Burrow. (Was it Charlie's? Percy's? Harper wasn't certain anymore. Each room felt like it was full of ghosts.) Harper had requested it because she would feel guilty about waking Hermione up with her nightmares and felt like privacy was the best solution after the war. They all needed their own space, an islet against personal storms.
But first time? It was in the dead of night. After all of the running and fighting, the funerals and the wakes, Harper let herself collapse in the safety of Ginny's arms. The open invitation was thrown out to Harper like a lifeline in the ocean she was trying not to drown in.
Whenever you need me, Ginny has said with eyes red from crying at another funeral. We don't have to be alone.
Harper's heart raced as if the nightmares were still chasing her in the waking world.
"I need you," she said as Ginny pressed herself closer. Their bodies knew each other well, how to accommodate in shared spaces and find solace wherever they touched.
With the blanket drawn over them, Harper sought sleep.
ii.
Sometimes they would randomly meet on the landing or run into each other in the hallway at odd hours. It was like something tugged at Harper's heart, causing her to leave the shadows of her nightmares to reach out someone. Hermione with her wise words, Ron's comforting laughter, and there was Ginny.
Respite was a clever word Hermione would use to describe the security of reaching out to someone.
Harper had a different word in mind as she traced the curve of Ginny's bare shoulders, fingers laced together as they moved together when they kissed, finding a different kind of freedom through each other. Ginny's long hair falling over her shoulder, words whispered into her skin. The kind of reassurance that came with specific intimacy.
It was times like this Harper felt she never fully appreciated how beautiful Ginny was.
iii.
"What would you rather dream about?" Ginny rested her head on Harper's shoulder. It was another night.
Harper twirled a strand of Ginny's hair between her finger, watching it glint with copper and fire in the enchanted light of the stars painted on the ceiling.
One of Ginny's legs was bent over Harper's, twisting her body in a way that made her nightshirt reveal the strip of freckled skin that made Harper's mouth dry. The fact she knew what it was like to touch her taunted Harper with memories of them dating a year ago. Remember? They whispered things like, remember that sound Ginny makes when you kiss that spot under her ear? The hitch in her breath whenever you melt against her? Desire pressed under her breastbone. The painted stars on Ginny's ceiling swirled in Harper's vision.
Ginny noticed. "Go on. You can ask me to stay." She brushed Harper's hair away from her face, eyes blazing like they had done on that birthday a year ago. The I couldn't think of what to get you, that blissful kiss, the heady rush of desire Harper felt.
"Ginny," she said the name like a prayer. It next came out as a rasp. "Ginevra."
Ginny moved her legs to straddled Harper at the waist, their bodies pressed together. "Yes?" She ghosted a kiss over Harper's throat, just above the pulse point. Warmth bloomed under her trembling skin as Ginny edged her fingers at the hemline of Harper's vest. They'd been in similar positions before, but never so close to that line.
The vest being pulled over Harper's head. The hot curl of Ginny's tongue in her mouth, their bodies arching to meet. Panting and whispering things that only the moon could hear. Ginny's pale skin against Harper's duskier one. There was so much to touch—to feel. All of those dips, curves, and hollows that allowed Harper to memorize the new topography of their bodies. This scar was new, kiss me there, touch me here. For so long Harper had felt something apathetic toward herself with her scars and knobby limbs, but this—
Harper gripped the sheets in her bunched hands as Ginny pressed her palm in the space between her thighs. Working together, Harper felt her whole world constrict until everything collapsed in shards of light.
She looked up at Ginny after she found herself back to the shore of awareness.
"Stay."
iv.
"Fucking hell," Ron realized one day when he went to check on why Ginny was taking forever to come down to breakfast. He looked over at his sister, already failing to glare at her. "And you!" He directed this at Harper. He hardly seemed surprised; only resigned.
Harper sheepishly covered herself more with a bedsheet.
Ginny threw a pillow at him.
v.
The sound of rain hitting the windows. Flower-scented sheets. Ginny's light snoring. These were the things Harper woke to. No longer was she in a tent with danger approaching at every turn, no more war or the fear of being on the run. She was no longer drowning. Harper could now wake up in the safety of the Burrow, her girlfriend's face pressed into the back of her neck, surrounded by her love.