[Bloody hell. She thinks it but doesn't say it, stepping in at the wordless invitation, but there's no hiding the flicker of concern when her gaze sweeps over him. She's reminded vividly of George, of the weeks after Fred left and they all knew that meant he was well and truly dead, no more extra time with them or anyone else. But she doesn't say any of it, bites her tongue; maybe she has grown up, here.
Ginny sets the thermos and paper bag down at Jim's work space, careful not to nudge anything out of place. There's snow in her hair, her cheeks bright pink from the wind and cold, a sharp difference to the few blazing days of summer the City gave them after Christmas. With a quiet little smile,]
no subject
Ginny sets the thermos and paper bag down at Jim's work space, careful not to nudge anything out of place. There's snow in her hair, her cheeks bright pink from the wind and cold, a sharp difference to the few blazing days of summer the City gave them after Christmas. With a quiet little smile,]
Hey. Thought you might be hungry.