Work Text:
At eighteen, she dreams of Harry, only him. The calluses of his palms on the underside of her breasts, his warm mouth on the inside of her wrists, his smile on her cheek.
She dreams of Harry, and when she wakes up, he’s there beside her, lean and beautiful. Mussed hair and magic. He’s beside her every morning, and Ginny doesn’t know where her dreams end, where her reality begins.
Between the two of them, there is Chinese food in plastic containers, and summer barbecues at the Burrow; walking around Muggle London holding hands, kissing at midnight on New Year’s Eve, failed attempts to cook pasta. There is: licking ice-cream off each other, raising goosebumps along the curve of the spine with fingertips, shagging at the kitchen countertop. There are a million i love yous.
And then when she’s eighteen, between them is also Italy. The two of them in love, roaming about in hot, cobbled streets. Eating at tables on the sides of pavements, with men and women who’ve loved for hundreds of years. Who love one another still.
Italy is endless sunshine.
Ginny in string bikinis, freckles blooming on her nose and collarbones. Her long, elegant fingers around cocktail glasses. Harry, tanned and besotted. Slavishly in love with her.
There is touching her hip bones with his broad palms under the water that is blue and green, and all shades in between. There is standing in front of her to block the sun, kissing her with the sun warming his back.
Between them, there are visits to cavernous churches, the smell of incense, the prayers of Italian children who want more toys. One time, he holds her in front of the statue of Our Lady, the light from the stained glass falling on them, standing there and saying nothing. Perhaps silently saying: let us always stay like this, together.
At night, there is star-gazing. Mad dancing at piazzas. Feeding each other lobster meat across the wooden table, playing footsie underneath it like stupid kids.
Afterwards, there is tasting the ocean on each other’s skin. Moving in a practiced rhythm, connected like the waves of the ocean. Sometimes, they create tides that ebb and flow gently. Sometimes, they create hurricanes.