Title: Solstice.
Artist:
![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif)
didodikaliMedia: pencil.
Characters: Ginny, Marcus.
Rating: NC-17.
She assumes, I suppose, that hexing her hair blonde will make the season's most celebrated Harpy unrecognizable, but then- why should she expect to find a Holyhead fan on a Veela vineyard? And she assumes, I imagine, that a man in France who speaks only French to her is actually French, and not merely remembering through her the joy of new and tenuous fluency and the difficulty of finding anyone who would put up with it long enough to have a proper conversation.
I talked to her in simple first book vocabulary words, expecting at any moment she would recognize me and excuse herself, but she didn't and she never asked my surname. She only asked the direction of the local winds, the location of the updrafts, if I was taken. She is a Seeker, no surprise she prefers to make the first move and I liked the way she gave up language and just grabbed my hands. Certainly knows how to get in to the spirit of the custom.
She must have flown over. She smells of green hills and rain and fast-running cirrus of the sort I haven't missed for ten years, but now I do. I like her much too much. Soon, or perhaps eventually, she will ask me an unraveling personal question, and, in idiotic hope, I will not lie about the answer.
The sun stands still and rises at the same place for three days in a row on this holiday, but always it tips and moves again and this moment will not last. Someone always gets it at these things. I don't remember drawing the short straw, but somehow I must have. I can tell already, it's going to hurt.