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Author: sweety_sorbey Story: An Insight Into the Decidedly Awful Life of Ginny Weasley Rating: Young Teens Status: WIP Warning: None Reviews: 22 Words: 9,256
Date: Same day. Middle of the night. Snore. Splutter. Cough. Snore. I’m going to hex someone in a minute, I swear to the gods. I don’t get how they can all sleep through each other’s snoring. But they can. Lucky gits. Vicky and Laura haven’t shown their true colours to Gabrielle yet. I don’t reckon they can decide what to do with her. It’s strange, because they usually figure out the best way to manipulate someone within about five minutes of meeting them. I reckon they’re probably scared of what I’ll do. I mean, if they make her their slave, they know I’ll tell them where to get off with a few carefully chosen words and a jab of my wand – I know I said I wouldn’t care, but even the idea of someone sweet-talking an eleven-year-old girl into doing their dirty work still makes me sick. Same if they try and bully her. So, they’re stuck. Tee hee. They’re probably going to wait until Harry gets here, and see whether or not he likes her; if he does, they’ll be extra sweet. If he doesn’t, they’ll make her life hell. I – ARGH! The twins are now making these little popping noises with their mouths. Every two seconds. It’s enough to – ugh! That’s it. I’m out of here. Well, I plodded my way down to the kitchen. The fire’s burned down, so I’m freezing, and there’s no-one else still up. But, I can’t hear them from here, so I’m happy enough. Well, that’s a lie, actually. As anyone who knows me knows, I get bored impossibly quickly, and there’s nothing to do. I’m tempted to venture outside, grab a broom and go for a flight, but if Mum catches me I’ll be dead. There’s only one thing for it. Take a deep breath. I can do it. I’ll just take the plunge, and get it over with. I’ll be fine as soon as I’ve started. I am, after all, a Gryffindor. Yes. I can do it. Here we go. I can’t believe I’m doing my homework this early in the holiday. I fell asleep on my Charms textbook. My neck is killing me and my eyes are all puffy, but I can’t sneak away, because Mum’s up now and she’s making me help with breakfast. Everyone’s eaten now, so I managed to get away. The twins were all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed when they came downstairs this morning, humming under their breath and beaming at everyone – probably just out of spite. I was so tempted to Bat Bogey them, I really was. I bet they were snoring so loudly last night on purpose. Anyway, I’m in the chicken coop again. The food may be bad, but I’m telling you, it’s the safest place to be. I expect I’ll be spending increasing quantities of time in here. Any particular reason why, I hear you ask? Naturally. Mum announced it this morning. Ron, Hermione and Potter are arriving tomorrow. Tomorrow. Course, then I’ll at least have someone on my side, for a change. Hermione, for example, is a pretty lethal enemy. If the twins get on the wrong side of her, they won’t know what’s hit them. Ron can be bad enough too, when he wants. And Potter… Well, they really care about what he thinks and everything – imagine if he just ignored them! Or – or if he were to suddenly kiss me right in front of – Stop. This is entirely ridiculous. While I admit that that would indeed piss them off no end, well, it’s not going to happen, is it? It’s not as though I’d want him to kiss me, even. I reckon the dark in here must be going to my head… I really ought to get out of here before I start talking to myself or something. Though, I suppose writing in a diary is like talking to yourself. Unless Tom Riddle’s writing back. Then it’s like talking to a Dark Lord. Excellent, I’m scaring myself now. I’m going to go for a walk. I decided to go for a walk in Ottery St Catchpole. I didn’t mention to anyone that I was leaving, so it’s entirely possible that they’re all worrying about me now. *Cough*. I’m certain. Anyway, I headed straight for the park. It’s not some big fancy thing with little paths and a duck pond like in all those romantic Muggle films my roommates talk about – just a rusty old slide, a couple of benches and two swings – and yet coming here was always this huge treat when Ron and I were younger. I’m perched on one of the benches at the moment, freezing my arse off, because there’s some hooded person swinging back and forth really slowly on one of the swings. There’s no way I’m going over to sit on the swing next to them, ‘cause you just never know who’s under a hood, do you? I mean, it could be old Tom or Greyback or Lestrange or – or even some blonde girl. She just took her hood down. Doesn’t look all that menacing, but oh well. Loads of dirty blonde hair, that’s all I can see from here. Oh. Oh! Luna! Luna was sitting in the park. Turns out she only lives a few minutes away! And I never even knew! How strange. Strange, strange, strange. Speaking of strange, that’s really the only way to describe Luna’s house. Don’t get me wrong – it’s wonderful. Luna invited me over once she spotted me in the park. It’s this haphazard little cottage-y thing on the outside, with tons of roses and honeysuckle creeping up the walls, and an old, knarled tree to one side of the little garden path (which Luna informed me houses a colony of scruffle-munchers, whatever they are). Which, really, all seems perfectly normal. (Well, perhaps not the scruffle-munchers, but the rest of it). Then you push open the front door, and are greeted by a small, stuffed alligator dangling from the ceiling – which Luna’s mother brought back from one of her many expeditions – and you start to think, “Ok, perhaps not that normal.” Looking past the alligator, you see a vast, circular entrance hall-thingy, which is bigger than the entire house looks from the outside. The ceiling is impossibly high, and the floor is made of ice. Actual, real-live, freezing cold ice. Luna’s Dad cast a spell on it so it doesn’t melt, and uses it for various experiments (he wasn’t very specific). Anyway, the icy floor gives off this amazing, magic-induced glow, and Luna and I spent ages skidding around on it, because Luna’s Dad didn’t think to de-slippify it. If you didn’t know Luna well, you would find the image of her skidding around on an icy floor and having a laugh very difficult to digest, but what people don’t realise is, though she may be pretty spaced out at times, and she looks at the world differently from most people, she’s still a person. She’s still a sixteen-year-old girl. It’s really quite a shame that most people don’t take the time to get to know her, ‘cause she can be such fun when she wants to be. Anyway, back to what I was saying. We only stopped mucking about when I crashed straight into one of these statues lining the room, sending both myself and it skidding across the ice. Once Luna had managed to stop laughing, she helped me right the statue (a very ugly man who apparently was the first person to report seeing a Crumple-Horned Snorkack, and whom Luna and her father both admire greatly), and we decided to go and find her Dad. Luna led me through the door next to the statue I had knocked over, and we found ourselves in a little study. A huge desk took up most of the space, completely covered in documents and diagrams and old copies of The Quibbler. Seated behind the desk was an impossibly tiny little man with brown hair and the same large, protuberant blue eyes as Luna, only his were half-hidden behind little square glasses. He looked up as we entered, and practically squealed in delight. “Luna! You’ll never guess what, darling! There’s been another sighting of the infamous Crumple-Horned Snorkack! That makes a grand total of ten!” “Really?” Luna asked excitedly. “Do you mean to say – ?” “Precisely!” Luna squealed. Actually squealed, like Romilda Vane does when she sees a pair of dress robes she likes or something. Her dad hopped off his little chair, and ran to meet Luna. They proceeded to start dancing, some little funny jig-type thing. They must have danced for a full minute or so. Realising that I seemed to have been forgotten, I proceeded to have a little poke around the study. I was reading a rather fascinating account of one wizard’s journey to Atlantis when they finally stopped. I looked up. Luna was looking out of breath, but extremely pleased. She caught my eye, which I suppose seemed to remind her that I was actually there. “Dad, this is Ginny. Ginny, this is Dad.” “Of course it’s Ginny!” Luna’s dad cried, hopping forwards and shaking my hand heartily. “You’re the one who moulds peoples’ bogeys into little bats, aren’t you?” I didn’t think to correct him. After all, he was perfectly right. Instead, I said, ever so politely, “Pleased to meet you.” “Naturally, naturally… So I suppose you’ll be staying the night then?” “Uh – well, actually, I don’t have any of my –” “Oh, you can Floo home and get your things, of course! Here.” And he promptly lit a fire, and handed me a Floo pot. “Right. Well, ok. Thank you.” I took a pinch of the stuff, threw it into the flames, and stepped into the fireplace. “Don’t be long!” Luna cried. I nodded. “The Burrow!” And with that, I was whisked away in a whirl of emerald flames. Mum was only too happy to agree to my spending the night at Luna’s. “Be back by noon,” she said vaguely. “Ron’s arriving at noon.” And then she had to hurry off, because the potatoes were boiling over. I went to my room and got my stuff, (“Where are you going?” “Away.”), and hurried back to the kitchen. I Flooed myself back without incident (now there’s a first), and found myself back in Mr Lovegood’s study. He looked up from his desk. “Luna’s in her room. You can join her, if you want.” “Where – ?” “Just off the hall.” “Right.” I walked back into the hall. There were about ten doors lining it. I groaned, and plodded my way to the nearest one. A flight of stairs – couldn’t be right. Just off the hall, he had said. I closed the door. Next one along. A bedroom. Empty. Next one. Loo. Next, kitch– Arg! That was me, flat on my back. Something or other had run into me. I looked around. “Oh! Me is so sorry, miss. Blinky is not watching where Blinky is going –” A house elf. Hermione would have been horrified. “S’all right.” Blinky nodded and began to walk off, leaving me sprawled on the floor. Apparently she (he?) was too busy to hang around and chat. “Wait!” I called after her/him, scrambling to my feet. “Could you tell me where – ?” “Little Miss’ room is there,” Blinky interrupted, pointing a long finger to the opposite side of the hall. I thanked her/him, and scrambled towards it. Luna was sitting cross legged on the bed, her eyes closed and her thumb and forefinger on each hand touching. Her eyes snapped open when I barged in. “Whatever took you so long?” “Nothing,” I said brightly, dumping my bag on the camp bed (I just assumed that it was for me). “Er – what was that about – with your dad – ?” Luna beamed. “Ten sightings. After the tenth sighting, the Ministry has to declare it a real creature. It will all make for a wonderful article.” “Oh. Wow. That’s – er – that’s really great!” “Isn’t it just? Want to play Exploding Snap-Hatch?” I’d never played Exploding Snap-Hatch before, but Luna explained it all right. We were in the midst of a very noisy round when little Blinky came in and announced that dinner was ready. Throughout the entire meal, Mr Lovegood gushed on and on about his Crumple-Horned Snorkacks, and Luna gushed right back. It was actually pretty interesting, some of the stuff they came out with, to tell you the truth. Anyway, after that, Luna and I just went back to her room and played Exploding Snap-Hatch up until about two minutes ago, when we realised just how knackered we were. Luna’s away getting ready for bed now, and – well, she’s just got back now. Well, I’d better go and get changed. Will write more later. Oh Merlin. Oh Merlin! This is – this is not good. No. Possibly one of the most mortifying moments of my entire life. Oh Merlin. Well, I suppose I had better explain. Luna and I slept late this morning – it must have been about eleven by the time we finally got up. I decided to walk back home, what with it being a nice day and everything, and Luna said she’s walk back with me. It was just after twelve by the time we got back – and guess who arrived at twelve? “Oh, Ginny, dear, there you are! Ron and the others have only just arrived – they’re upstairs getting unpacked if you want to go and say hello – oh! You must be Luna!” She swept Luna up in a brief hug, before bustling back to the stove, talking over her shoulder. “You and your father will be at the wedding, won’t you?” “Oh – yes. Daddy’s really excited! Fleur’s grandmother is rather famous, and a few people have written articles on her – he can’t wait to meet her.” “Lovely,” Mum said distractedly. “Well, if you want to stay for a while, dear, you’re quite welcome to. The house is rather full as it is, but we can always make room for one more. You could share with Ginny – I suppose we’re going to have to shuffle things around a little, but there’s no harm in that. You know Neville Longbottom, don’t you?” “Neville? Yes.” “He’s here too –” “Mweville’s ‘ere?” May I just say, in my defence, that it is really quite difficult to speak clearly around an entire roll stuffed in your mouth? I swallowed it quickly, before asking, “Did he arrive with Ron?” “Yes.” I exchanged a glance with Luna, who was beaming all of a sudden, and we made our way towards the door. “Lunch will be in about an hour!” Mum called after us. We made our way up the stairs, and I must say, I was pretty angry at this point. I mean, they trust Neville to go with them, but not Luna or me? I mean, yeah, I suppose he is of age, but still. I’m going to have to speak to Hermione about this. If, you know, I ever get over my embarrassment enough to show my face again. Anyway, more about that when we come to it. We got up the first two flights of stairs just fine. It was the damn flight leading to the third landing where it happened. Course, it started off well enough. One foot in front of the other. Ascending slowly. Minding our own business entirely. Listening to footsteps ahead of us slow as they reached the top. Then a door opening, a high-pitched scream, a much deeper yell, and all of a sudden, there came Harry, tumbling down the stairs, heading straight for us. Now, really, if you actually stop and think about, I should have been able to get out of the way. I mean, Luna managed to get out of the way. And I’m a Quidditch player – I’m used to dodging Bludgers and opponents all the time. But, to be perfectly honest, Harry tumbling down the stairs, heading straight for us was the last thing I was expecting. And so it was that Harry crashed straight into me, so that we both tumbled down the stairs, finally coming to rest at the landing below, Harry basically sitting on top of me, his legs on either side of my body, pinning me down. If only you could have heard the noise the rest of them made. Luna alone was positively howling with laughter. You can bet anything that I would have hexed them all into next week, if only I could have reached my wand at this point. And yet I couldn’t, because – oh, yeah – there was a seventeen-year-old squishing me. And he wouldn’t get off. “Would you move?” I growled. “I would,” he growled right back, “but I can’t.” I shoved him, hard, but he wouldn’t budge. The others laughed harder. I looked up. Ron had his wand out, and pointed down at us. Ron, of all people. Ron, who just about hexed me when he saw me kissing Dean. Ron had stuck me to Harry. “Ron,” I said, as calmly as I could. “Un-stick us right now, or I swear –” But he was laughing too hard to hear. “Hermione?” I pleaded. Then, right at that very moment came the voice I least wanted to hear. “Ginny! What ees this?” And so, you know, I turn my head, and there’s Fleur and Gabrielle, Fleur looking shocked beyond belief, with her hand clamped tight over Gabrielle’s eyes. Thankfully, Ron seemed to have calmed down enough to un-stick us, so Harry leapt off me with the speed of a Snitch, turned to Fleur and started babbling away. I didn’t bother – I just stood up as fast as I could, dashed up the stairs and into my room, and slammed the door. And I’ve been here ever since. I’ve no doubt Fleur will have told Mum by now, so even if I ever do get over the sheer embarrassment of it all, if I ever do leave this room, I’ll be pretty much skinned alive. I’m going to kill Ron. And I also kind of want to find out how Harry came to be tumbling down the stairs in the first place. But I’ll kill Ron first.
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