Disclaimer: I own nothing except some things which you have to figure out.
One such morning…
"VIRGINIA ALICIA WEASLEY! GET DOWN HERE! IMMEDIATELY!" Contrary to her mother's belief, not only did the vivacious redhead not respond; her state of being was actually closer to death than life. The summer holidays had just started and true to tradition, none of the Weasley children, nor the Boy-Who-Lived – currently sleeping on the spare bed in Ron's room – wake before noon much less seven forty-eight in the AM. Though their mother affectionately coddled the boys, she firmly believed that Ginny was still a child; therefore awake at dawn and completely conked out at eight in the evening.
The loud pounding and soprano-like shrill of Hermione Granger's voice at the door were the forces that shoved Ginny from the dream world into a state of semi-somnambulism. "Ginny! PLEASE! Wake up and get downstairs, your mum wants you to try on your bridesmaid's frock." Ginny grumbled, threw the locks of her door to let the distressed girl in only to be startled into consciousness by the meringue-like pure white dress Hermione was donning. "Bloody hell 'Mione! The sodding thing can't even fit through the doorway! Why're you wearing it anyhow?" Hermione's glare was accompanied by an un-Hermione-like outburst of hysteria. "I HAVE NO IDEA, ALRIGHT! The one time I wake up early, your mother accosts me in the kitchen and starts to complain about how she is worried about the dress not fitting Fleur and all of a sudden, before I can even get some coffee in my system – " the usually calm Head Girl was the crushed-and-cappucinoed-coffee bean's greatest admirer – " she has me wearing the monstrosity and COMPLAINING ABOUT HOW MY CHEST AND HIPS ARE TOO BIG! How about it is because FLEUR IS MUCH SMALLER THAN ME! YET SHE STILL INSISTS ON MY BEING THE MANNEQUIN FOR THIS PASTRY OF A DRESS! AND THAT IS NOT EVEN THE WORST BIT!" Ginny braced herself for the rant of a lifetime: "SHE KEEPS ASKING, 'Hermione, what is going on between you and my Ronald? Eh? Because you know, my dear, we all love you but I am sure my Ron does the most of all.' GIN, YOU HAVE GOT TO GET DOWN THERE. I LOVE YOUR MOTHER BUT THIS MORNING, I AM GOING TO DO SOMETHING I WILL REGRET!" Words had fallen on deaf ears for her uncanny impression of Mrs. Weasley had reduced the redhead to tears of laughter, snorts and yawns.
Minutes later, Ginny and the fuming Hermione made their way to the kitchen. Greeted by a distraught Mrs. Weasley, weak tea and the prospect of having to wear an orange dress at the wedding, Ginny's temper was soon akin to Hermione's.
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Upstairs (and away from the war-zone) Harry Potter: the raven-haired, green-eyed, Quidditch star of Gryffindor House was dreaming of giant rabbits and bad tea. He awoke with a start when pain hit his forehead like a lightning bolt. He sat up and pondered what on earth was going on when Hedwig started to tap at the window. The dead mouse in her mouth was, frankly, rather revolting so early in the morning but the message from Dumbledore more than made up for it:
My dear Mr. Potter,
As it is your summer vacation (as well as mine, come to think of it) this shall be brief. After much discourse between the Dursleys and I, they have decided to let you stay at the Burrow for the rest of the summer and for the entire summer next year. Please let the Weasleys know about this most welcome of developments.
Sincerely yours,
Albus Dumbledore
Harry smiled and felt happier than he already was- no Dursleys for an extended period of time. Relief washed over his entire body but drowsiness fell upon him faster. The Boy-Who-Lived promptly passed out to the sounds of his best friend's bass mutterings, "Mother, not the garden-gnomes. Look, they bit me."
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Author's note: Yay! First chapter! But wait, who is marrying the half-veela? Why does the famous scar hurt? I don't know either, I just make this up as I go along….
