Title: Blackbird Song
Author: lq_traintracks
Characters/Pairings: Ginny/Millicent; background Harry/Draco and Hermione/Ron; evil Quidditch OMCs; brief mentions of Voldemort and the Carrows
Rating: NC-17
Kinks/Themes Chosen: Curvophilia: arousal from or preference for heavier/fuller-figured partners
Other Warnings/Content: PTSD; hint of OCD behaviors; brief, nongraphic mentions of torture and mind control; mention of alcohol abuse; mention of character death (Fred Weasley); brief Quidditch arseholes using a gendered insult. And for the happy one: strap-ons!
Word Count: ~3,300
Summary/Description: Ginny had only recently learned to let this happen. It was like Quidditch and cooking and maybe the rest of her life… Ginny had made herself safe only by holding tight.
Author's Notes: So, the "curvophilia" part of this is not so much used as a kink. Millicent's a full-figured woman. She and Ginny are in love. Ginny loves her body on multiple levels. The end. This turned more into a story about Ginny (and all of them really) dealing and sometimes struggling with the trauma of Voldemort and the war and finding love, comfort, and healing with one another in the aftermath. Title taken from Lee DeWyze's song of the same name. Special thanks to sdk for such a sharp and keen beta. And for everything. <3






Ginny hugged her broom hard, the sweat wicked from her brow by the speed. She gripped the Quaffle close, the calluses on her hands catching on the worn leather, fingers aching.

One more.

She glanced behind to see the two Beaters bearing down, bats volleying the Bludger back and forth between them until they had a good shot at her. When she turned back, her breath caught in her throat as the two Seekers, racing for the Snitch, nearly took her head off. She ducked quickly, swerving as they careened recklessly in the opposite direction.

Harry needed more time. She could only hope she got the Quaffle through the hoop before Malfoy had a chance to catch the Snitch. Just a little more time. Ten more points and then he could catch it. Just not before. She couldn't let the Wasps win this one. Not after the last time.

Ginny pulled left to avoid a Bludger and almost rammed into the stands. An escalating pressure built underneath her ribs, her pulse beating at her temples. The commentator's Sonorus became muffled, somewhere far away. One of the Beaters had gained on her, and she ducked just in time to avoid a bat to the side of her head. The ref didn't call it, not that it mattered.

All that mattered were the three hoops, her grip on the Quaffle, and the waiting Keeper.

When the second Beater made to box her in against the stands and run her aground, she rolled on the broom, spiraling out of his trap, vertigo threatening and then receding. She pulled up sharply when the pitch got too close for comfort. She circled back, taking a high arc and then aiming for the goal once more, flattening herself over the broom and flying as fast as she could.

She sensed Harry high above her, Malfoy on his tail twigs. Half the stadium rose to their feet to follow their reckless ascent into the bright rays of sun. But Ginny kept her focus on the Keeper, on the way he sat his broom. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the Beaters gathering for another attack, this time from the front. She gritted her teeth, leaned forward, and pulled yet more speed from her broom. Any moment it could start to shimmy, and she'd lose control.

The Beaters closed ranks, bats whirling. Ginny waited as long as she could, and then at the last moment swerved right. The Keeper flinched, mistaking her approach, and Ginny took her chance, her body rising from the broom, arm pulling back. She let out a ragged shout, throwing for the hoop in the middle as hard as she could. The Quaffle had hardly left her fingers when the Bludger caught her in the ribs and sent her reeling toward the pitch, the pain a bright bloom that stole her breath from her lungs.

The whistle blew, the game called for the Tornados. Harry had caught the Snitch a mere moment after Ginny's Quaffle sailed past the Keeper's left ear and into the hoop. Ginny hit the ground hard and tumbled. Her Firebolt broke like bone. Except that the splintering of wood, unmuffled by flesh, was higher pitched. Just slightly.

She rolled in the dirt, skidding to a stop. She hugged her arm around her middle, trying to keep her cracked ribs from breaking further as she struggled to stand.

"Bloody bitch, serves you right!" one of the Beaters called. Thorton. She'd had problems with him before.

Ginny's heart pounded from the win, from getting the goal, from the adrenaline rushing in to counter the pain. And from the beginnings of a very familiar feeling: fight or flight. She stared at the ground, and it wavered dangerously in her vision.

"Broke some ribs, did I? That's for Fletcher last game, cunt!"

The wand was in her hand before she'd finished the thought that she'd like to rip his throat out. She aimed but pulled her magic.

"Come down here and say that to me."

Thorton snorted, floating on his broom ten feet above the pitch, but she saw the fear flash in his stupid eyes.

"Weasley, I'll handle him." Malfoy had landed and his voice came, calm but livid, from behind her. "He's out the season for that."

But Ginny's arm stayed raised, her magic curling in her forearm, prepared for a strike. Something bubbled up from deep down in her gut, something dark like arterial blood spilled from a fatal wound, still warm on the ground.

Black ink swelling from an empty page. Her hand shaking with the quill as she answered. His words as though spoken close in her ear… the sick pull from an invisible rope, drawing her ever deeper…

"Come. Down. Here." Ginny let the spell seep from her palm and into her wand, drawing Thorton's broom closer.

"Hey! I was just bloody joking. Can't you take a joke?"

The Carrows laughing as they threw Neville, unconscious, onto the cold stone at her feet. "Who's next?"

The old bruises on her body that ached with the same magic as his fresh ones…

"Say it again," Ginny said as Thorton's broom neared. "Call me a cunt, you useless sack of shit."

In a fit of fear, he tumbled off his broom with a yelp before she could bring him to ground in front of her. She re-aimed her wand to send a spell his way, but Harry's voice rang out first, "Gin!"

Her breath caught, but her aim stayed true to Thorton's quickly retreating back. She could still get him from here. Even as he ran away. She had him. She gripped the wand tighter. Raised it a hair.

"It's over," Harry said softly, closer now. "We won."

Fred lying so still, eyes stuck open.

The blood on her fingers as she wrote the Dark Lord's words, ripping her own skin on the stone… Always more blood for him. Never enough.

He'd bleed her dry.

Bleed her dry.

Harry's hand touched gently to her arm and she jumped. "We won," he said as her gaze met his. And she saw that he knew.

He knew.

"He's nothing," Harry said, pushing her arm slowly down. She let him. "He'll never be anything to you. Not ever again."

Ginny swallowed, nodding. The adrenaline drained from her skin, like a snake's shed. "Yeah," she said. She nodded again. "I'm all right. I'm good. Bastard has it coming, though."

"Yeah," Harry agreed, slanting her a smile that couldn't mask his continued concern. She saw him briefly share a look with Malfoy.

Ginny lifted her grimy face to the stands. To the east, up high. Third row from the very top. She always knew right where to look.

Millicent sat very still, watching her. Even from a great distance, their gazes locked. Ginny felt her breath leave her, and with it, the last of the fear and the rage. The corner of her lover's lips lifted in a small smile. Ginny let it fill her. She let the warm rays of sunlight catch in her eyelashes, casting a halo around the world.

*

"Pub?" Harry asked once they'd all got changed. The sun was setting now, washing the pitch rose and plum. "Seems like you could use a drink."

She smirked at him. "I think last time it turned into seven, though."

He flinched slightly. She remembered how deep he'd been in his cups as well, such that Malfoy had had to sling Harry's arm around his shoulders and steer him away to Side-Along.

Ginny knew which poisons Harry turned to in order to chase his own demons. The Firewhisky bottle was one they too frequently shared.

"When's the last time you went to Andromeda's?" she asked. She hadn't intended it to sound like that by any means, but lately, if they weren't drinking and laughing to keep from talking, or playing Quidditch so that there wasn't even the chance, everything else came out like an indictment.

It was so awkward, trying to act like they were all normal. Exhausting.

Harry's jaw tightened. "I saw Teddy last month." He refused to meet her gaze for a moment. "He's fine. Without me there. Everybody is."

Ginny recalled the ten Owls from Hermione and her brother on her own entryway table, so many unanswered calls to dinner, tea, anything.

She decided not to push it with Harry. People in glass houses and all. He had his own internal fights into which she shouldn't intervene. Saviour guilt was just one of them, and if he responded with what looked like resentment, she couldn't exactly blame him.

Nobody could.

"Hey," Malfoy said, coming up behind him. "You hungry?"

Harry softened around his walled-up edges. He turned and nodded. "Yeah. Curry?"

Ginny smiled at the sight of Malfoy's hand subtly lighting on Harry's lower back. "Sure. Weasley? Want to come? My treat."

But out of the corner of her eye, she saw a whirl of purple robes silhouetted against the setting sun. "Next time I kick your arse, I'll take you up on that," she told him.

Harry laughed, and Malfoy frowned at him. "Fuck you."

Harry snorted. "Yeah, right."

"Oh. Oh you really want to have this conversation here? About who's going to top toni—Ow, shit!"

"Stinging charm," Harry said blithely, tucking away a wand no one had even seen come out. "They sting. So I hear."

"Goodnight." Ginny smiled at the two of them, still squabbling as she walked away.

Ginny lifted her gaze to the woman waiting for her.

Her hands, which had before unconsciously tightened into near fists – still fighting the broom, still fighting – relaxed and opened.


*

They were all over one another once they'd Apparated back to the flat.

"Your ribs?" Millicent gasped out, ripping off her own robes in the kitchen.

"Healer mended them. Fuck," Ginny cursed when the buckles on her boots got stuck.

"Leave them on." Millicent pulled Ginny's top off, and the tank underneath followed, baring her small freckled breasts. Millicent lifted them in her palms.

"Here?" Ginny asked, kissing her hard and tearing into her clothes.

"Anywhere."

They stumbled into the bedroom, Ginny breathlessly finding the arch of her lover's throat with her lips, the warmth of her neck, yanking until Millicent's knickers fell to the floor. Her mouth against Millie's ear. "I want my cock in you."

A whimper in reply.

"Are you wet enough?"

Millicent guided Ginny's between her legs and gasped at the touch of her fingers.

"Merlin…" Ginny whispered.

Millicent turned in her arms, and Ginny's hands roamed up the round expanse of her belly, up to cup her breasts and pinch her nipples. Millicent's head fell back onto Ginny's shoulder.

"Bend over."

Millicent folded her body over the foot of the bed, and Ginny's eyes flared seeing the slick shining on her inner thighs. She ripped into her trousers even as she pulled her wand and performed the complicated swish and tap on her own body that secured the strap-on to her hips. She Summoned lube and slicked the dildo sticking out of her flies. Her head felt foggy with lust as Millicent shuffled her feet apart. Ginny stepped between her legs, ran her hands appreciatively over the voluptuous swell of her arse before taking the shaft in her hand and finding the entrance, soaked and warm. Ginny pushed, and the head sank inside.

Millicent moaned into the bedding.

"Yes?" Ginny's legs shook with wanting to thrust.

"Y-yes."

Ginny guided it in and then stood, watching it disappear between Millicent's legs, beneath the quiver of her arse as Ginny began fucking her.

"Ohhh!" Millicent cried into the sheets.

"Beautiful…" Ginny took Millicent's ample hips in her hands and pulled her back as she thrust. Her fingers found their grip in the crease where the skin was so soft, the muscles of Millicent's thighs jumping.

When Millicent sounded close to her climax, Ginny leaned over her back, and Millicent answered with an arch. Ginny palmed her hanging breasts and fucked short and hard.

"Millie… God, Millie, let me hear you come."

Millicent's breath stopped for a long moment, and Ginny lay her head on her back, feeling the vibrations of the shouts that then came from her lover's lungs, breathing against her hot skin and closing her eyes.

*

They made dinner in their pyjamas, Millicent watching her from the doorway as Ginny stirred a pot the Muggle way.

Millicent bit into an olive. "You never let me help you."

Ginny cast her eyes up to give her a smirk. It was true, and Ginny suspected why. That somehow giving up the spoon, leaving her own hand empty, felt dangerous. "You know I like cooking for you, Mil." Which was true as well.

"I like cooking for you, too."

Ginny sighed. She stirred in time with the thud of her heart. One, two, three stirs clockwise, one anti-clockwise. One, two, three, one. One, two, three, one. The safety of always stirring the same.

*

"When's your appointment at the Mind-Healer's tomorrow?"

They were in front of the telly, the rest of the room dark. "Mm, six, I think?" Ginny kissed the top of Millicent's head where it rested on her shoulder.

"Luna's closing the shop early. Some holiday only Lovegoods celebrate."

"So you'll be home early?"

Millicent smiled at her. "I could get take-away."

Ginny sighed and draped her arm around Millicent's shoulders. "Sounds lovely."

They fell silent, and Ginny shifted, pulling her closer. She made slow passes of her fingers over Millicent's arm, enjoying the weight of her lover against her side.

Ginny sipped decaffeinated tea that she'd had to sit on her hands to let Millie brew for her, and they shared a tin of biscuits. Every so often, when Millicent would lay her hand on it, Ginny would realise her knee had started bouncing hard up and down.

"Sorry," Ginny said, stilling herself.

"S'all right, honey."

When it happened twice more, Millicent asked her if she needed to get up and walk. She was nice to call it walking when what Ginny sometimes resorted to was pacing through the flat like someone planning a siege.

Ginny patted the hand on her knee. "No, stay. I'm good."

Millicent left her hand there, a welcome anchor to whatever energy liked to take Ginny over and try to fly her apart with its jarring vibrations from beneath her skin.

The black book open before her and her mind going blank before filling with his words…

Ginny closed her eyes and swallowed against the sudden stone in her throat.

As if she knew, Millicent's hand stroked reassuringly along her leg, her soft sigh bringing Ginny home.

Ginny felt herself relax, her bones dropping into the cradle of gravity. Moments went by, and they both laughed at the antics of the characters on the screen. Millicent's fingers drifted down between her legs, idly teasing up her thighs, nearer and nearer the apex. Ginny's body lit with a new kind of urgency, one she welcomed.

"God, Millie…" Ginny spread her legs and pushed into her teasing hand. Her heavy gaze found Millicent's mischievous one. Millicent's deft fingers played against the outside of Ginny's knickers until they were flooded with her wetness.

"Straddle me," Ginny gasped.

Millicent turned, lifted her sleep shirt out of the way, and settled a knee on either side of Ginny's hips. Ginny sneaked her hand between their bodies, palm up, and Millicent gasped at the slow trill of her fingers. Millicent's weight settled on her, and Ginny felt wonderfully afloat in her own skin, like Millie would keep her here, like she could finally let go.

"I love fucking you," Ginny whispered as Millicent rode her hand, rocking on her hard. The rhythm of her lover moving on top of her filled Ginny's body with a swell of bliss.

She yanked Millicent's shirt down until one of her nipples cleared the cotton. She tongued around it. "Come on, baby." She sucked the nipple into her mouth, and, wonderful, ragged, breathless moments later, Millicent came, shuddering on her hand.

When she'd caught her breath, Millicent climbed off and offered Ginny her hand. Wordlessly, she led Ginny to bed. She undressed her, and Ginny let her. She let her limbs become soft and docile. When prompted, she lay down beneath her lover, and Millicent parted Ginny's thighs, stroking soft fingers through wet curls and finding her clit ready and throbbing.

Ginny had only recently learned to let this happen. It was like Quidditch and cooking and maybe the rest of her life… Ginny had made herself safe only by holding tight.

"I love you," Millicent told her in the quiet dark, her weight pressing Ginny down. Ginny gripped the soft curves of her waist, her back, grasped her wide hips and rejoiced at the body filling her hands, at the way they moved against one another.

But then, as Millicent drove her higher and higher, Ginny let her fingers go lax; she let her arms rise above her head; she opened her legs as Millicent's hand moved faster. And when Millicent's mouth dipped to her breasts, and her hot tongue teased at one of Ginny's nipples, Ginny arched into the wet flick of it. "M-Millie…" she gasped, letting herself ride on that edge, the very edge between air and ground, between gasping and breathing.

When she came, she threw her arms around Millicent's body and clutched at her. She rolled her hips against Millicent's hand, closing her legs around her arm. She tucked her head against Millicent's breasts and rode it out. She held on for dear life, afraid of nothing.

She lifted her sweaty face, panting, and Millicent's gentle smile was like the blue sky above her when she flew.

"I fucking love you," Ginny laughed.

"I fucking love you more," Millicent replied.

"Bollocks." Ginny went to toss a pillow at her, but her arms – from gripping the broom, the Quaffle, from sex – were useless, and she missed. "Bloody hell, I'd Hex you if I had the energy. Or if I knew where my wand was."

Millicent leaned down and kissed her. "Yeah, right."

Ginny laughed and felt her body relax more with each breath, each longer exhale.

Millicent lay beside her, and Ginny stared up at the ceiling until her eyes grew too tired to stay open any longer. She closed them, and there was nothing. But not in a way that made her skin crawl or her breath stop in her chest. It was a warm nothing, more like a cushioned, resting darkness that wasn't quite pitch.

"No take-away tomorrow," she said, lips hardly able to move.

"No?"

"My mum's…" She turned her tired head on the pillow and gazed at Millicent's face. "I haven't been in a while. Hermione and Ron will be there. George… I just thought—"

"Yes." Millicent's hand cupped her cheek. "Of course, love."

Ginny sighed and closed her eyes once more. She felt the exhaustion dragging at her mind. She reached out before she fell completely asleep and took Millie's hand in her own. "You keep me now," she managed to mumble.

"Hmm?"

"I hope I'm now… for you…"

Millicent chuckled quietly, "Sweet dreams, Gin," amused affection rich in her voice.

Ginny wanted to open her mouth to explain what she meant – that Millicent erased the past for her for a little while, that she softened the sharp questions of the future. But her lips barely parted, and her mind sank down into the gentle hold of sleep. Her fingers loosened.

But Millicent's hand remained close. Right there. Just in case Ginny began to fall and not fly.