Work Text:
“Gin.” Harry waved a piece of parchment happily, a goofy grin on his face, “I found that poem you sent me for valentines.”
Ginny popped her head out of the living room and smiled. She walked over to him and knelt down on the floor next to her husband and a little box where they kept mementos. “I was such a weird kid.”
“And so talented, too.” He kissed her and laughed. “Can’t believe an eleven year old wrote this. Look at you, spelling so fine, better than my grandfather's hair gel.”
“Well,” Ginny admitted rather sheepishly, “I did have help.”
“Hm? Who helped you?”
“Tom.” Ginny bit her lip.
“Tom?” Harry cocked his head, disbelief colouring his face.
Ginny laughed awkwardly, “Yeah.”
“Voldemort helped you write this?” Harry gestured to the parchment with his other hand, eyes wide.
“He was very sympathetic to my needs and decided to write you the best letter ever.” Ginny justified herself.
“How much did he write?”
“I just needed words that rhymed and he was very good at it. He said he wrote poetry for someone he liked called Abbie, but I'm not sure if he ever sent those.” That was a curious thought. She knew that the man himself had had boy trouble, but she didn’t know if he wrote poetry to that boy or not. Tom could have easily done it if he wanted to.
“Oh my god, Ginny.” Harry clasped a hand over his face and closed his eyes.
Ginny Weasley was horrified at her husband’s reaction. “Harry, I’m sorry. Are you okay? We’ll get rid of it?”
“Get rid of it?” His eyes shot open and he stared at her seriously. “Are you mental? We’re framing this and setting it up in the living room!”
Ginny laughed.
“My arch nemesis cowrote me a love poem! That must have hurt!”
Ginvera Weasley wiped actual tears off her face as Harry Potter himself paraded through their home, carrying a worn poem that started it all.