The End

You are browsing the Harry & Ginny archive.

The war is over and Harry goes to collect his relatives.

Written for the Changing Seasons Fic Exchange on LJ:

Our seasons have no fixed returns, Without our will they come and go; At noon our sudden summer burns, ere sunset all is snow.

Summary: Your life is going well, it in fact couldn’t be better. That is until your sister unwittingly changes it forever.

Written for the hpgw_ficafest on LJ, using the prompt Pride and Envy.

An outtake from Imogen’s “A Pensieve Affair.”
This can be considered an alternative version of this event, Mr Pump’s Story, “The Thorn in the Sand.” also covers the shopping trip, and is well worth the read.

Many thanks to Katie and Allie for the beta work, and also to Imogen for her beta, and allowing me to play in her world in the first place.

What lies behind the door? Why is it important to them? Will it be the perfect way to celebrate their anniversary?

This was originally written for the ‘Anniversary Challenge’ Fic competition over at Phoenix Song.

Just what is Rita Skeeter doing in, Harry and Ginny’s favourite pub?

Why does Harry wish it to be, forever autumn?

Written as a companion to my previous fics, ‘Whoever It Was Who Brought Me Here…’ & ‘…Will Have To Take Me Home’, which even though they were written pre-HBP, don’t have any conflicts with cannon, and while the style is slightly different this time round, I felt that the world suited the Senses nature of the challenge.

You shouldn’t need to have read them first to understand and hopefully enjoy this one.

Soon after returning to Privet Drive, Harry receives a mysterious parcel that appears to be from his recently deceased Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. Its contents soon draw Harry into a journey and a meeting he least expected.

Sequel to “Whoever it Was Who Brought Me Here…”

As he steps into the room, he pauses to remove his glasses, using the end of his scarf to wipe them clean; as he does this his face scrunches up adoringly as he struggles to focus.You continue to watch as he sheds his coat and scarf, hanging them on the rack by the door, his eyes darting around the room to try and spot you.