WISHLISTS: Demons in the Night (Ginny/Katie)
Author: briony_tallis
Recipient: the_glass_onion
Title: Demons in the Night
Pairing: Ginny/Katie
Request: imaginary demons
Rating: PG
Word Count: 504
Summary: Sometimes Ginny cries at night.
Author's Notes: It might be a little bit angsty. I really hope you like it, the_glass_onion!
Sometimes Ginny cries at night.
The mornings are splendid, mock Quidditch games in the garden, the sunlight setting Ginny's hair on fire. They'll toss a Quaffle back and forth, trying to score on one another, often tumbling into the grass in an attempt to replicate some professional dive. Ginny's mouth on hers, both of them laughing as Katie suffers yet another tear in her robes.
In the afternoons they have tea, talking about the Daily Prophet or Ginny's latest visit to the Burrow. Katie loves hearing about the Weasleys, her eyes sparkling as she watches the redhead over her cup. Ginny's stories are punctuated with laughter and pale arms sweeping across the table. Several such sessions have ended in both women mopping spilled tea off the tablecloth; their eyes meet and they grin in unison, faces flushed.
Katie can never tell when it's going to happen. Ginny is always happy in the evenings, hips pressed against Katie's at the sink as they brush their teeth, snapping her clothing across the room at the blonde as she changes. Katie runs her hands over the golden silk of Ginny's nightdresses, kissing her gently in the grey light of sunset. Ginny will slip her tongue into Katie's mouth and slide her hands up her thighs, or else she'll toss a pillow at Katie's head and claim fatigue with a cheeky wink. Either way they end up in the same place, tangled in their bed sheets with devilish grins on their faces. Katie presses her mouth to the tip of Ginny's freckled nose, Ginny playfully swats Katie's bottom, and they laugh quietly as they turn out the lights.
Most nights Katie sleeps soundly, but sometimes she awakens to the sadly familiar trembling of Ginny's sobbing, so quiet as to be nearly indistinguishable in the dark. But Katie knows, and she reaches out to her lover, strong arms pulling gently at the shaking redhead. Ginny thrashes, unseeing, and often lashes out at the blonde, fists and nails and babbling, shouts and cries and fear. Katie shushes her gently, kisses her shoulder, and holds Ginny gently until the nightmares fade, until the leering face of Tom Riddle dissolves into the night. Katie is soft and slender and blonde, her eyes the palest shade of blue, and Ginny stares deeply into her sympathetic gaze, fingers gripping Katie's arms tightly. She's not a girl anymore, she's not Tom's anymore, but still these imaginary demons haunt her, taunting her whenever she allows herself to be happy. Ginny doesn't speak; the sniffles of her dying tears say all there is to say.
Katie has her own demons, flashes of war and death and pain, and the terror of a scream in the snows of Hogsmeade. She doesn't claim to understand Ginny's sorrow, but she will always be there when it happens, when Ginny cries in the night. She will always be there, and she'll still be there in the morning, laughing over Quidditch matches, living and loving and wondering when Ginny will cry again.
Recipient: the_glass_onion
Title: Demons in the Night
Pairing: Ginny/Katie
Request: imaginary demons
Rating: PG
Word Count: 504
Summary: Sometimes Ginny cries at night.
Author's Notes: It might be a little bit angsty. I really hope you like it, the_glass_onion!
Sometimes Ginny cries at night.
The mornings are splendid, mock Quidditch games in the garden, the sunlight setting Ginny's hair on fire. They'll toss a Quaffle back and forth, trying to score on one another, often tumbling into the grass in an attempt to replicate some professional dive. Ginny's mouth on hers, both of them laughing as Katie suffers yet another tear in her robes.
In the afternoons they have tea, talking about the Daily Prophet or Ginny's latest visit to the Burrow. Katie loves hearing about the Weasleys, her eyes sparkling as she watches the redhead over her cup. Ginny's stories are punctuated with laughter and pale arms sweeping across the table. Several such sessions have ended in both women mopping spilled tea off the tablecloth; their eyes meet and they grin in unison, faces flushed.
Katie can never tell when it's going to happen. Ginny is always happy in the evenings, hips pressed against Katie's at the sink as they brush their teeth, snapping her clothing across the room at the blonde as she changes. Katie runs her hands over the golden silk of Ginny's nightdresses, kissing her gently in the grey light of sunset. Ginny will slip her tongue into Katie's mouth and slide her hands up her thighs, or else she'll toss a pillow at Katie's head and claim fatigue with a cheeky wink. Either way they end up in the same place, tangled in their bed sheets with devilish grins on their faces. Katie presses her mouth to the tip of Ginny's freckled nose, Ginny playfully swats Katie's bottom, and they laugh quietly as they turn out the lights.
Most nights Katie sleeps soundly, but sometimes she awakens to the sadly familiar trembling of Ginny's sobbing, so quiet as to be nearly indistinguishable in the dark. But Katie knows, and she reaches out to her lover, strong arms pulling gently at the shaking redhead. Ginny thrashes, unseeing, and often lashes out at the blonde, fists and nails and babbling, shouts and cries and fear. Katie shushes her gently, kisses her shoulder, and holds Ginny gently until the nightmares fade, until the leering face of Tom Riddle dissolves into the night. Katie is soft and slender and blonde, her eyes the palest shade of blue, and Ginny stares deeply into her sympathetic gaze, fingers gripping Katie's arms tightly. She's not a girl anymore, she's not Tom's anymore, but still these imaginary demons haunt her, taunting her whenever she allows herself to be happy. Ginny doesn't speak; the sniffles of her dying tears say all there is to say.
Katie has her own demons, flashes of war and death and pain, and the terror of a scream in the snows of Hogsmeade. She doesn't claim to understand Ginny's sorrow, but she will always be there when it happens, when Ginny cries in the night. She will always be there, and she'll still be there in the morning, laughing over Quidditch matches, living and loving and wondering when Ginny will cry again.