the fruit of thy flowers: fanfiction
And in Arcadia I
He tried to speak sometimes; Ginny studied his face and mentally supplied dashes and ellipses, where his thoughts burned for a start, a finish, that wouldn't come.
George/Ginny. Implied Fred/George, implied Tom/Ginny (warning: underage). R-NC-17ish.
Fred decided to concoct a Plan. His previous efforts at kissing had usually consisted of knocking the other person over and sitting on them, but as that had failed to get the desired results, a new approach was necessary. He had sneaked looks at his Mum's books, all of which seemed to have titles like His Wicked Wand and Polyjuice Passion. From these, he had learned that witches, at any rate, like to be Wooed, although he wasn't exactly sure what a "turgid tumescence of throbbing joy" was, so he, or rather Ron, would have to do without that.
Fred/Ron. PG-13. Warning: juvenile humor.
He opens his mouth to tell her that someone needs to, someone needs to be responsible, someone needs to regulate such things, or. The window frame groans in harmony with the thunder outside, and he settles for a weary smile. A loose thread hangs from the seam of her nightgown, and he resists the urge to snip it off.
The Holly and the Ivy
Early this morning, when she stumbled downstairs after a rough night (Ginny kicked in her sleep), Ron fixed her a cup of tea, his fingers brushing hers as he handed her the warm mug, and spoke, his voice low and intimate, "Come with me?" And she went. She always did.
All fiction © Catja Mikhailovic 2002-2003.