Disclaimer: I own nothing. Angel the Series belongs to Joss Whedon and David Greenwalt. Harry Potter belongs to J.K Rowling.
A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.
A/N 2: Yes, I have started these again, but I won't be posting them regularly like I was doing the last two batches. Just a fair warning.
A/N 3: Reviews are Good. This has been a subtle hint from the author - Please return to your regularly scheduled reading.
She awakens with strong arms around her and the smell of coconut tickling her nose. Ginny opens her eyes to a curtain of wet blonde hair.
It’s amazing and a lot of the time she’s not sure if she can trust the feeling. It’s so very tentative (like a bubble inside of her that is so full that it must burst soon), because – because she’s happy
. Ginny is now truly fully happy in her life.
“Time to wake up,” a smiling slightly pink face says, hovering over her from where she is sitting on the edge of their bed in a towel. And for a second her whole body tenses. All a dream. This wonderful life she has now is all a dream. She is still in bed living a half life with Harry. Perhaps even father back, still in bed waiting for her mother to yell for her to get up and come down for breakfast – this magnificent vision of a possible future of a complicated jumble of war, kids, friends, family and lovers is all going to fade away in a moment.
She holds her breath.
Still above her Katie sighs and shakes her head, she leans down and kisses her breaking her out of her panic, heedless of morning breath (hallucinations don’t use tongue, right?). When she breaks away she whispers, “Come on, Gin. Get out of bed, it’s your turn in the shower. Your gonna end up waking up Angie.”
“Too late for that,” she hears a voice behind her say scratchily and the warm arms around her stomach, tighten.
She turns around within the confines that refuse to loosen up for her movement, skin gliding over skin because those familiar callused hands always seem to sneak under her baggy hand-me-down shirts at night, until she is face to face with Angelina who still hasn’t opened her eyes.
“Sorry,” she says, no longer whispering. “I know you stayed late cleaning up at the Club. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
Angelina only chuckles snuggling even closer somehow. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sticking to my plan to be lazy this morning. You’re the one who still has to get out of bed and get ready for your date,” she teases.
Ginny sighs theatrically pulling away to flop back on the pillow, making Katie who was still propped above her fall on top of them both. After oophs of surprise and giggles Angie lets go of her the rest of the way and latches on to Katie octopus-like with both her arms and legs. “See. I even have a replacement giant teddy bear, slash human hot water bottle. Now scoot or you’re going to be late again,” she chides.
Ginny did as she was told listening to the half-heartedly struggling Katie and stubbornly determined Angie bickering as she picked out her clothes and made her way to the bathroom.
“But I need to-,“ she heard Katie start as she tried to get up, adjusting her towel.
“Nope,” Angie cut her off, pulling her back down into bed. “Mine.”
“But-,” the blonde frowned as her legs got tangled in the sheets and the towel slid again.
“Mine,” she repeated decisively nuzzling the other woman’s neck.
Katie gave a sigh, pulled the towel off completely and tossed it off the side of the bed, and settled more comfortably under the covers. “Just for ten minutes,” she warned.
“Sure,” Angie chuckled.
“I hate you,” Katie huffed brushing back one of decades long lover’s braids from where it laid across her forehead before wrapping her arms snuggly around her waist.
“No you don’t,” she responded with absolute surety.
There was a long pause of comfortable Saturday morning silence. “Maybe a little longer than ten minutes,” Katie admitted, her voice sounding quite a bit heavier.
“Uh huh,” Angie hummed simply in sleepy agreement.
Ginny closed the door to the bathroom quietly with a smile on her face.
She loved her life.
And she was late anyway.
Luna and Harry didn’t mind. In a round a bout way it suited her purposes, she was making a dramatic entrance for the press by sleeping in, being lazy, and having the two of them sit around chatting for twenty minutes and possibly changing the current gossip.
She wondered what the headlines would read tomorrow.
The paparazzi to them had become something you just live with – and occasionally learn to play. Harry, Luna, and her always meet up for lunch in public because it caused the press to go into a frenzy. There were now persistent headlines that the actual relationship going on was between the three of them. ("The Loony, The Gryffs, and ‘The Closet’ – Finally! The True Scandalous Relationship Revealed!"
And that always makes them laugh because somehow despite all of the convoluted drama that is their lives they are each others’ best friends – but so not each others’ types. It’s funny in a way because they have all actually slept with each other at one time or another now, except for Luna and her. Which is odd really, because the two of them have known each other forever and seeing as she ended up ultimately in a lesbian threesome relationship and Luna is the most curious and open person in the world, you would have thought they might have done some experimenting.
(But when they were younger all she was thinking about was playing outside and the Hero Harry Potter. Luna’s mind was occupied with magical creatures and what was beyond the Veil. And Harry was a bit caught up with tying not to get the shit kicked out of him by his relatives and the cold laughter before the flash of green light in his dreams. Priorities and all that.)
Ginny enjoys these lunches completely outside the media attention though – which frankly she could definitely do without if she had the choice, it has done much (much much) more harm than good in all of their lives over the years. It is the conversation, the company, that she truly treasures.
She loves her family. Really, she does. But, perhaps not so strangely, the three of them, their significant others, and the children they have all produced feel closer to her than most of her blood.
The prevailing feeling throughout the Wizarding World growing up was the importance of heritage, ancestry, almost pedigree really. Taken too far – of having pure blood.
None of them taught their children that way and she thinks that most children growing up these days lack that upbringing as well. Their nuclear family is a hodgepodge of not-really-but-almost-barely-accepted groupings . But Ginny certainly has contact more often, talks more, with these people than by those that are “accepted”.
She tried things the way they were supposed
to be. The way everyone seemed to want her to live.
It didn’t work.
Ginny sets down her purse on the table and hugs both Harry and Luna before sitting down (ignoring the flurry of camera flashes this action produces). The waiter comes over instantly and takes their order overenthusiastically, watching them with wide, fascinated eyes the entire time.
They talk comfortably about their kids and her brother’s joke shop. When their food come they pick off each other’s plates out of easy habit (something else that causes an amusing amount of undue interest from the media).
Ginny likes her life now. No, not just like. Loves.
She feels whole.
And it’s not