Hermione invites you to dinner at the Burrow sometimes, mostly because she thinks that you spend too much time by yourself. You prefer being alone than doing whatever this masochistic thing you're doing to yourself is, though. Hermione is at your left and Harry is directly in front of you. Ginny, of course, is sitting to the left of him, as if all of you form two perfectly placed couples. Then again, Ron is on the other side of Hermione and you're mostly left to fend for yourself. You're not a particularly angry or violent person, but when you catch the glint of the little diamonds on Ginny's finger--the one on her left hand between the pinkie and social finger--your own hand clenches tightly around Molly’s precious, pearl-inlaid knife. It takes too much willpower not to give into the urge to stab something with it. Hermione gives you a look, and its one that holds knowledge that she shouldn't have. She's always been too observant for her own good. "You didn't know?" she whispers out of the corner of her mouth, evidently surprised, "It was all over the Prophet this morning." A shrug is all you can manage. You haven’t read the Daily Prophet since fourth year, when Harry and Hermione were plastered all over the front page. After a moment's pause, she goes on, saying, "I think you should tell her." You don't bother to say to her that you don't care what she thinks. The little voice in your head that makes you believe that maybe the Sorting Hat was right silently agrees, but it's crushed almost immediately by a wave of pure, unadultered self-loathing. How could you even try to break them up? Harry whispers something in his fiancée’s ear, a smile in his bottle-green eyes. Ginny just laughs, her own eyes never once leaving his face.
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timeasmymeasure
Neville Longbottom/Ginny Weasley-Keeping Quiet
Date: 2010-11-26 01:03 am (UTC)Hermione invites you to dinner at the Burrow sometimes, mostly because she thinks that you spend too much time by yourself. You prefer being alone than doing whatever this masochistic thing you're doing to yourself is, though.
Hermione is at your left and Harry is directly in front of you. Ginny, of course, is sitting to the left of him, as if all of you form two perfectly placed couples. Then again, Ron is on the other side of Hermione and you're mostly left to fend for yourself.
You're not a particularly angry or violent person, but when you catch the glint of the little diamonds on Ginny's finger--the one on her left hand between the pinkie and social finger--your own hand clenches tightly around Molly’s precious, pearl-inlaid knife. It takes too much willpower not to give into the urge to stab something with it.
Hermione gives you a look, and its one that holds knowledge that she shouldn't have. She's always been too observant for her own good.
"You didn't know?" she whispers out of the corner of her mouth, evidently surprised, "It was all over the Prophet this morning." A shrug is all you can manage. You haven’t read the Daily Prophet since fourth year, when Harry and Hermione were plastered all over the front page.
After a moment's pause, she goes on, saying, "I think you should tell her." You don't bother to say to her that you don't care what she thinks.
The little voice in your head that makes you believe that maybe the Sorting Hat was right silently agrees, but it's crushed almost immediately by a wave of pure, unadultered self-loathing. How could you even try to break them up?
Harry whispers something in his fiancée’s ear, a smile in his bottle-green eyes. Ginny just laughs, her own eyes never once leaving his face.