Ginny Weasley
Legacy Name: Ginny Weasley

December 31, 2001

She heard some shuffling on the doormat, then Hermione’s bouncing, voluminous hair swept its way into her space.

“Gin, I know you like making your home available to people, but I still think you should implement some more serious security measures.” Hermione swept off her cloak and draped it on the nearest chair, then swung her bag off her shoulders and plopped it into the seat. “Especially with all your family home has been through--”

“Hermione.” Ginny looked up from the crystal grid she was working on, and put down the faceted garnet she was holding; it clinked lightly on the stand. “You know that’s a huge part of why I don’t. I’ve had enough experience with wards and secret-keeping and...we’re not living in that situation now, and this is my own place. I’m not saying the world isn’t dangerous,” she sighed, and gestured for Hermione to actually sit down, “but it’s not healthy to be so militant. Honestly, I think Mad-Eye must've had outrageous anxiety. Vigilance is important, but so is actually...living. That’s the part I want to focus on.”

Hermione was quiet for a moment, looking down at the table, and then reached out for Ginny’s hand. Her grip was firm, with certainty. “Ginny, I want to marry you.”

Ginny felt her spit stutter uncomfortably in her throat and choked; Hermione withdrew her hand to accio a glass of water from the kitchen and pushed it gently into Ginny’s. Ginny spared a grateful glance before gulping it down, casting a nonverbal refilling charm, and drank double the glass.

“I’m not--” Hermione began to sputter, but stopped and giggled. “I don’t mean now. Or like I’m--oh. I’m not proposing! But I want you to know that I’ve...thought about it and it’s something I want down the line. With you.”

Ginny had stopped drinking water, and was now looking at Hermione with a fierce but unreadable expression on her face. “So…” Hermione prompted, “are you done...choking?”

Ginny blinked, eyes softening. She refilled her glass again and sipped.

“Done. For now. But seriously, ‘Mione, hell of a proposal.”

“I just said--!”

“I’m kidding, I’m…” Ginny smiled slightly, then gave a visible exhale. “I’m glad we’re talking about this.”

“You...are?” Hermione looked both giddy and uncertain.

“I mean...it’s an important conversation. But I also don’t want to get your hopes up, Hermione. Not…” Ginny paused, vaguely examined the wall past Hermione, then shifted to meet those wide brown eyes opposite hers, reaching out both hands across the table for her partner’s. “Give me a moment. I know this is big, and I want to be...clear.”

Hermione nodded, silently. Ginny could feel a light trembling passing through their shared hands, and she squeezed. The shaking stilled.

“First...obviously, I love you. Also, I’m...SO surprised. But also, I guess you’re always planning ahead, but also...wait, sorry. I’m derailing myself.”

Hermione stayed quiet, and after a pause, began stroking Ginny’s hands with her thumbs.

Ginny took a deep breath in, then out, and tried to start again. “I don’t know that I believe in marriage. I mean, the origins of it are rooted in power and property. I don't belong to anyone but myself, Hermione, I don't want to be bound that way. And I don't want to own you either. I know that my independence is something you'd never want to take from me. And--and, a thing I definitely don’t get about marriage is the lifelong commitment. A contractual lifelong bond.” She paused for a moment, looking at Hermione, who simply waited. “We know life is short. And I don’t plan on being with anyone who isn’t you, Hermione. But I don’t know how to look that far into the future...yet.”

The two sat at the dining table of Ginny’s apartment, eyes and hands locked, in silence for a while, Hermione’s thumbs still running back and forth across the mountain range of Ginny’s knuckles.

“I can’t imagine a world, or a universe, where I’m not with you, Gin,” Hermione said softly.

“Okay, logistically, I’m sure there’s one out there. But!” Ginny hastily dropped the brevity at seeing the glint in Hermione’s eyes, “I’m completely uninterested in that. So uninterested. That’d be absolute bollocks.”

Another pause. “I know you said down the line, ‘Mione. And I need you to know, I’m not saying no. It's just something I don’t want right now, mainly because I can’t...imagine it. I know we’re surrounded by married friends and family. I love Harry and Luna, but this clingy phase they're in makes me nauseous. My own framing around marriage is mostly informed by my parents, and I don’t...I wouldn’t want what they have, Hermione. Obviously, I mean, I want what we have, which is why I’m here in this with you. And not every marriage looks like...I don’t really want to complain about my parental dynamics when they’re coming over later and we’ll have to deal with it in person,” Ginny grimaced. “But...I guess we should talk about how ‘down the line’ you’re thinking. It feels a bit far out from where we are now. I mean, we don’t live together, for one. Honestly, Snape would miss you as an in-house potion collaborator way too much. Like, would seriously consider poisoning me if we were talking about moving in together, way too much.”

“I’ve started drafting a speech to tell him, for whenever we decide that moving in is a step we want to take together,” Hermione responded with a wry grin.

“How many pages is it right now?”

“Are we counting the pages I’ve set on fire?”

“Oh, Hermione,” Ginny exaggeratedly batted her eyelashes. “Give me those sweet, sweet numbers, babe.”

“...Fifth draft. Six pages.”

“Only?” Ginny gasped in mock horror. “Please tell me you’re not including footnotes in that page count.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and smacked Ginny’s hands away. “I love you and I deserve a drink.” She pushed her chair back and started towards the kitchen behind Ginny.

“It’s a bit tight in there,” Ginny yelled over her shoulder. “Don’t run into the kegs!”

Hermione came out of the kitchen, two brimful butterbeer steins floating ahead of her. “Are you trying to open the Three Broomsticks in your apartment?”

“At least for tonight,” Ginny said, pulling Hermione to her by the waist and depositing the woman atop her lap. The butterbeers hovered steadily. “It’s New Year’s after all! Which means everyone’s coming over in...oh. We’re not talking about how many hours.” A sly smile curved Ginny’s lips. “But I promise there’s enough time for us to enjoy ourselves before the dunderheads arrive.”

“Ginny!”

Ginny laughed, pulling Hermione closer, nuzzling her neck. "I get it, I get it, there's still lots to do."

“Obviously,” Hermione leaned back, looking into Ginny’s faux innocent eyes, “we've got a deadline. But look," Hermione ran her hand down the curve behind Ginny's ear, "the joy of what we've survived is that we've protected a future for ourselves. We're not done talking about us. And if we do get married someday, we won't stop talking about it then either. For now, we can focus on what's in front of us.” Hermione nodded towards the partially formed arrangement of crystals, some tumbled, some cut, some raw, arranged on a footed blue glass cake platter. “I know it’s an important tradition for you. Can we work on it together?”

Ginny grinned toothily. “I can think of other things I’d like to work on,” she said, hand resting comfortably on Hermione’s thigh. “But…” she briefly pursed her lips at the crystals, “yeah. I’d appreciate that. Let me go grab some amethyst from my room for,” Ginny took a sizable gulp of buttterbeer, “sobriety.” She lightly patted the small of Hermione’s back.

Hermione got up and sat at the chair in front of the grid. “I’ll map the geometry of your amplifiers. Since you’re anchoring with bloodstone, have you considered a rhodochrosite modifier?”

Ginny deftly kissed Hermione as she got up. “You sweet genius, I love that. I’ll be right back. While you finish this for me, let me go write a lengthy recounting of your proposal for the Prophet classifieds. 'The two of us, in a contractual bond together, our signatures on paper...would be so hot,'" she quipped in a fairly accurate imitation of Hermione's pitch and mimed scribbling into the air with a quill, punctuating the word 'hot' with a pointed swipe. She smiled, dazzling and almost feral, at the glare Hermione gave. “Too soon?”

A pillow zipped off the couch to whack Ginny across the face. Hermione shook her head as she moved to sheath her wand, but she was laughing. “This is what I get for choosing a Weasley.”

“And this,” Ginny cackled gleefully as she raised her wand-arm, and a row of summoned pillows floated menacingly to surround Hermione, from bedroom accents to floor poufs, hovering in a semi-circle, “is what you get for picking a pillow fight with one.”

Hermione raised a bemused eyebrow as she stood. “Don't we need to finish setting up for the party?”

“Oh love, I’ll show you a party!”

Credits

All Character Art by Kitsai | Story by jem |
Treasure Patron, my darling Starling,
caretaker of Severus Snape |
Profile design & code by Ringo | F*K TERFS (: