DISCLAIMER: - Harry Potter and all associated characters, settings, and
the rest of it belong to JK Rowling and Warner Brothers. They're not mine!
Morning is not a time.
By EliCa
Chapter One
"Ginny…" drawled a voice, muffled slightly by distance and large, cushioned objects.
"What?" Snapped a voice in return.
"Can you get me a drink please?"
"I could…" Ginny said mischievously, "but I'm not going too." The voice sighed.
"Don't be so immature Gin, c'mon, get your favourite brother a drink in his hour of need."
"No. You're just too lazy to get one for yourself. You're as well as me. Who gets a cold in summer anyway?" The voice huffed again.
"Hermione said that it was possible, thank you very much. It's a virus, that isn't necessarily related to the seasons. However, the use of central heating in muggle offices and schools," now it was Ginny's turn to sigh. She stood up quickly, and dropped her book on the floor.
"Alright!" Ron smiled into the sofa.
"Thank you!" He called behind her retreating form as she stomped into the kitchen.
"He spends far too much time with Hermione to be healthy." Murmured Ginny under her breath. Ginny entered the deserted kitchen and filled the kettle with water and placed it on the hob. Then she walked silently up to a cupboard and pulled out an old rusty chocolate biscuit tin. Hooking her fingers right underneath the lid, and pulling as hard as she could, the lid flew open revealing a new box of teabags. She picked the one from the bottom that had spent the most time in the dust, and threw it into a mug on the sideboard. Ron was shouting from the living room for his drink, but Ginny chose to ignore his calls and feign deafness.
The kettle started to rattle from side to side, and Ginny had to sprint over to it, in order to avoid the inevitable spillage which would start a chain of events so petty and common in this house that she would do most things in order to avoid them being played out.
"You haven't spilt any water have you?" Shouted Molly Weasley from the garden, so accustomed was she to checking the state of her pristine kitchen after one of her imbecilic children had managed to not notice the kettle teetering and finally falling, emptying its contents all over the floor.
"No Mum, it's ok." Shouted back Ginny. Molly breathed a sigh of relief and returned to pegging out the washing.
Ginny breathed a sigh of relief too, glad that the kitchen protective mother wasn't on the rampage. She poured the water into the less than clean mug she was using for Ron's tea, and let the teabag brew.
"Ron, do you want sugar?" She yelled to her brother.
"Mmm," came the reply.
"Ok then…let's see." Ginny searched through cupboards to try and find something to put in Ron's tea. The sugar lay on the surface ignored. "Salt? No, been done too many times." She pulled out box upon box, eventually reaching a box of …"Chilli powder. That will cure his cold," she said, grinning. She stood up, and poured a good portion of the hot powder into Ron's drink, took out the tea bag, stirred it, and took the mug through to Ron.
"Here you go," she said sympathetically, putting the mug down on the table, next to several used and unused tissues. "Best drink it while it's hot."
"Mmm," mumbled Ron.
"I didn't make it for you to ignore! Drink!" She commanded.
"Fine! I'll drink the tea." He sat up, grasped the handle, and gulped. "Very nice," he commented, "now can I…eurgh. What did you do to it?"
Ginny shrugged her shoulders. "We'd run out of tea bags, so I asked Fred and George if they had any, and they gave me that one. Why, is it not good enough for you Ron?"
"Sisters." He sneered, lying back down on the sofa. Ginny smiled triumphantly, and sat back down with the book that she had thrown on the floor earlier.
Suddenly, there was an owl call from outside. Ginny got up to go and see the owl, which had stopped by Ginny's mother.
"What's it got, Mum?"
"A letter from Professor Dumbledore, dear."
"What does it say?"
"Harry can't come and stay I'm afraid. The Professor thinks that it's a very bad idea for the moment. He says that if anything changes he'll let us know immediately."
"That's a pity." Ginny regretted saying those words as soon as they left her mouth. She waited for the usual songs and taunts from her brothers about her crush on Harry Potter, but none came. She smiled, she was glad that she was around to witness the calming down of The Burrow, previously thought impossible.
"Yes, it is a pity. Tell Ron will you Ginny? Oh, and could you take these clothes and put them in the airing cupboard?" Ginny raised her eyebrows and sighed. Did she have to do everything about this house? However, she picked up the clothes obediently, and on the way up to the airing cupboard, passed Ron and told him the bad news. Not that he paid much attention, as he was asleep.
**
"Ow!" Moaned Harry Potter, hopping around his bedroom in severe pain. He had misjudged quite how hard his trunk was, and in the process of letting out his frustration, he had hurt his foot.
Harry fell on his bed, and pulled off his sock to examine the damage he had done. It was bright red around his toe. The pain appeared to have subsided a bit, so Harry prodded the toe.
"Ow!" He said again, so, yes, it did still hurt.
He sensed movement in the house, and heard his Uncle's distinctive thud as he pulled himself up the stairs. Sure enough, the door to Harry's bedroom was soon flung open, revealing the bright red and slightly damp figure of Vernon Dursley.
"I told you, you couldn't go!"
"I know." Said Harry, still holding onto his foot.
"And your barmy headmaster agrees, so unfortunately this year you're staying with us. So, you can start working now." Harry rolled his eyes, and started pulling on his sock again gingerly.
"What do you want me to do then, Uncle?"
"The lawn needs mowing."
"I did that yesterday!"
"Do it again!" Harry faked a smile.
"I'll do my homework first Uncle. There are more important things than shaving grass." Vernon snarled, and made for Harry's ear, in an effort to control him like he did five years ago. However, Harry held onto his Uncle's arm, stopping it from going any further forward. Vernon stuttered abuse.
"Now get out of my bedroom."
"We put the clothes on your back boy!"
"I could wear my own clothes if you want, it's not too hard. I'll just pull out my robes."
"Don't you dare wear that….freak clothing!" Spluttered Uncle Vernon. There was a silence in which Harry stared at his uncle as menacingly as he could, and Vernon seemed to get an even redder shade of purple.
"What are you waiting for?" Said Harry quietly. "Get out." Vernon narrowed his eyes, and turned his back on Harry, and walked out.
"Cool!" Said Harry, assessing the situation. He returned to his bed to let his foot out of the restrictive sock, and to feel sorry for himself because he was stuck in this place for another three months.
**
Harry,
Sorry you can't come and visit us, maybe I'll send Fred and George over to visit you instead! I can't come because I have a cold. Mum refuses to give me Pepper-Up potion or anything because she says it means I can't build up a resistance to colds if I take it. Hermione agrees. But then, Hermione would wouldn't she! I'm sure that there's a book somewhere that advocates the non-usage of all medicines so that poor, suffering children can 'build up a resistance'.
Anyway, write soon. There's no-one here really to keep me company at the moment except Ginny and Mum, as Percy's always working, and Fred and George are spending all of their time in their room. They are all driving me insane!
Ron
Harry put down the parchment and sighed. He'd love to have just Ginny for company at the moment. Anything but the Dursley's who had all changed their feelings about him from plain hatred, to fear, and a touch of hatred too. It was really very annoying how all conversation (no matter how mundane) stopped whenever he walked into a room.
Dudley had stopped bullying Harry too. It was a bit unnerving really, as eleven-year old Dudley wouldn't mind hurting much smaller and weedier Harry, but now had seemed to realise that Harry was becoming a force to be reckoned with. Not through physical strength, but Dudley thought that Harry could kill with a stare. That's what Vernon swore Harry was trying to do that day in his bedroom, but they couldn't get rid of him. They were being forced to keep him because of that damned Dumbledore.
Harry picked up his other letters. The Hogwarts letter carried a large note about the rise of Voldemort urging extra caution at all times. Harry also noticed that there was another note saying that quidditch was, at this moment in time, going to be resumed in September.
Harry had also subscribed to the Daily Prophet, taking a note from Hermione's book. He had noticed that there was virtually no mention of Voldemort's return, although there were signs that not even the most stupid wizard could miss. The obituaries column had grown from a column to a page. There had been a number of mysterious muggle killings, which traced paths through the entire United Kingdom. Of course, Cornelius Fudge had been denying Harry's 'lunatic' claims ever since he made them. Harry thought that Fudge was being mad enough by not taking any precautions, but he was keeping his eyes out for any sign of him being dragged into politics.
Hermione had also written;
Dear Harry (she wrote)
As you know, I should be in Bulgaria right now, but my parent's decided to cut the trip short when Nana died. It wasn't unexpected really, she's been ill for ages but it's still sad.
Ron's still moaning about having a cold, but he was really sympathetic about Nana. I'm sorry that you can't come to the Burrow, it must be so annoying being stuck at the Dursley's! I suppose the only time we're all going to meet up now is when we go to Diagon Alley, isn't it?
I've done a bit of research on the protection the Dursley's give you ("Typical, thought Harry). Before you say anything, I haven't had much else to do! I finished all of my homework before we went to Bulgaria and I don't have much else to do before I go and stay at Ron's.
He's really annoying Ginny. We've been writing this year, and she is so bored at the Burrow. With all of her brother's busy (or ill) there's nothing to do but help Mrs Weasley. She wrote to me to complain solely that she has resorted to reading Hogwarts: A History! A last resort?
Write soon,
Love Hermione
Harry put the letter down. He had done all of his homework too. Although he hadn't resorted to such drastic measures as Ginny, he had resorted to reading Dudley's school textbooks. Not the most thrilling reading material, but 4 Privet Drive had never been full of books. The most challenging book Harry expected Uncle Vernon to have read was called 'The Drillers' book of Drills and Drill Bits', and it lived in a bookcase, sandwiched in between volumes and volumes of...photo albums.
He was bored.
He had already made a calendar which told him how many days there were until he left for Hogwarts (51), and not only had he done this all with his quill and some spare parchment, but he had even decorated it with pictures from 'Fantastic Beasts and where to find them' and also a few broomsticks and snitches for good measure.
Harry sat down, grateful for the opportunity to write a few letters. Of course he would reply to Ron and Hermione. He wouldn't even try writing to Sirius, as Harry knew that he was out of contact for a while doing goodness knew what. Harry considered what else he could write, when he realised that Hermione had mentioned that Ginny was at her wits end too. Ron, Hermione and Ginny it was.
**
Ginny was lying on her bed, looking up at the ceiling.
There was a crack right in the middle , but if she closed her left eye, then her right, and carried on doing that really quickly, the crack moved from side to side!
Ginny moaned.
"What am I doing! I know, I'll read something." With that thought in mind, Ginny reached over to pick up 'Hogwarts: A History', but she knew that it was just too boring! Hermione had revealed all of the little twists there were in Hogwarts' history, or at least in the first couple of pages Ginny had read. But the pictures were nice, so maybe she'd look at the pictures for a while. Then, if she closed her left eye, and then her right eye really quickly, the pictures moved. But then, they moved anyway.
Ginny looked out of her window and sighed wistfully. The little specks of white in the sky really were very beautiful, but that one was getting bigger, and bigger, and it was approaching her window! Ginny screamed, but then realised the rather large white speck was actually an owl. Feeling rather foolish, Ginny opened the window, and in flew a magnificent snowy owl.
"Hedwig?" Asked Ginny to the owl, half expecting a reply. In a manner, there was a reply, as Hedwig held out a leg, offering a letter. Ginny shook her head. "Ron's down in the living room sleeping. You want him." Hedwig though, didn't move. Ginny approached the bird warily. Hedwig was a bit big for her liking. Then the letter caught her attention, it said 'Ginny' on the front, with an envelope decorated with quite badly drawn dragons. The attempt made her laugh though, as she detached the letter from Hedwig's leg. As soon as the letter was delivered, Hedwig flew off, with still another letter to deliver.
Ginny, now alone again in her room looked at the letter. It had to have been from Harry, but why was he writing to her, and decorating the envelope? Maybe to him, dragons were the equivalent of hearts…?
"No Ginny, you're getting carried away. It's a letter, not a proclamation of undying love." She said quietly to herself. But just to check if it was indeed a proclamation of affection, Ginny tore into the parchment.
Hi Ginny,
I heard that you were bored. As you can probably tell, I am bored too, although I have not betrayed the unspoken pact yet! Hermione said that you've started reading Hogwarts: A history. Frankly Virginia, I am disappointed in you. ("He knows my name!" thought Ginny, "and it sounds like he's flirting with me. Written flirting. That means true love…" Ginny paused, "well it could do!")
Although, I am reading 'Biology for the Incredibly Dumb.' Quite interesting really, should really be titled 'Porn for the incredibly sad scientist', but that's the very boring bit.
Anyway, I take it that life with Ronald the invalid isn't shaping up to be a bed of roses? It's bad enough receiving ten letters a day with blotches of snot in the top corner to prove that he really has a got a cold! Ok, I made that up to make myself laugh as the Dursley's aren't even talking to me this year. Means I've resorted to copying pictures out of school books. I know I can't draw, but there's not much else to do, considering I'm not really allowed to go out on the town. Little Whinging Discotheque closed down in the seventies I think as well…
Anyhow, write back soon, I need someone sane (ie, not Mrs Ron on Mr Hermione)to talk to!
Harry
Ginny fell backwards on her bed with a sigh. She smiled at the crack in the wall, and winked at it, making it smile back.
A/N – I'll upload the next chapter soon, half term next week and I'll be avoiding revision!
Check out my story in progress Et Tu Brutae, and other stories by clicking on my profile!
Morning is not a time.
By EliCa
Chapter One
"Ginny…" drawled a voice, muffled slightly by distance and large, cushioned objects.
"What?" Snapped a voice in return.
"Can you get me a drink please?"
"I could…" Ginny said mischievously, "but I'm not going too." The voice sighed.
"Don't be so immature Gin, c'mon, get your favourite brother a drink in his hour of need."
"No. You're just too lazy to get one for yourself. You're as well as me. Who gets a cold in summer anyway?" The voice huffed again.
"Hermione said that it was possible, thank you very much. It's a virus, that isn't necessarily related to the seasons. However, the use of central heating in muggle offices and schools," now it was Ginny's turn to sigh. She stood up quickly, and dropped her book on the floor.
"Alright!" Ron smiled into the sofa.
"Thank you!" He called behind her retreating form as she stomped into the kitchen.
"He spends far too much time with Hermione to be healthy." Murmured Ginny under her breath. Ginny entered the deserted kitchen and filled the kettle with water and placed it on the hob. Then she walked silently up to a cupboard and pulled out an old rusty chocolate biscuit tin. Hooking her fingers right underneath the lid, and pulling as hard as she could, the lid flew open revealing a new box of teabags. She picked the one from the bottom that had spent the most time in the dust, and threw it into a mug on the sideboard. Ron was shouting from the living room for his drink, but Ginny chose to ignore his calls and feign deafness.
The kettle started to rattle from side to side, and Ginny had to sprint over to it, in order to avoid the inevitable spillage which would start a chain of events so petty and common in this house that she would do most things in order to avoid them being played out.
"You haven't spilt any water have you?" Shouted Molly Weasley from the garden, so accustomed was she to checking the state of her pristine kitchen after one of her imbecilic children had managed to not notice the kettle teetering and finally falling, emptying its contents all over the floor.
"No Mum, it's ok." Shouted back Ginny. Molly breathed a sigh of relief and returned to pegging out the washing.
Ginny breathed a sigh of relief too, glad that the kitchen protective mother wasn't on the rampage. She poured the water into the less than clean mug she was using for Ron's tea, and let the teabag brew.
"Ron, do you want sugar?" She yelled to her brother.
"Mmm," came the reply.
"Ok then…let's see." Ginny searched through cupboards to try and find something to put in Ron's tea. The sugar lay on the surface ignored. "Salt? No, been done too many times." She pulled out box upon box, eventually reaching a box of …"Chilli powder. That will cure his cold," she said, grinning. She stood up, and poured a good portion of the hot powder into Ron's drink, took out the tea bag, stirred it, and took the mug through to Ron.
"Here you go," she said sympathetically, putting the mug down on the table, next to several used and unused tissues. "Best drink it while it's hot."
"Mmm," mumbled Ron.
"I didn't make it for you to ignore! Drink!" She commanded.
"Fine! I'll drink the tea." He sat up, grasped the handle, and gulped. "Very nice," he commented, "now can I…eurgh. What did you do to it?"
Ginny shrugged her shoulders. "We'd run out of tea bags, so I asked Fred and George if they had any, and they gave me that one. Why, is it not good enough for you Ron?"
"Sisters." He sneered, lying back down on the sofa. Ginny smiled triumphantly, and sat back down with the book that she had thrown on the floor earlier.
Suddenly, there was an owl call from outside. Ginny got up to go and see the owl, which had stopped by Ginny's mother.
"What's it got, Mum?"
"A letter from Professor Dumbledore, dear."
"What does it say?"
"Harry can't come and stay I'm afraid. The Professor thinks that it's a very bad idea for the moment. He says that if anything changes he'll let us know immediately."
"That's a pity." Ginny regretted saying those words as soon as they left her mouth. She waited for the usual songs and taunts from her brothers about her crush on Harry Potter, but none came. She smiled, she was glad that she was around to witness the calming down of The Burrow, previously thought impossible.
"Yes, it is a pity. Tell Ron will you Ginny? Oh, and could you take these clothes and put them in the airing cupboard?" Ginny raised her eyebrows and sighed. Did she have to do everything about this house? However, she picked up the clothes obediently, and on the way up to the airing cupboard, passed Ron and told him the bad news. Not that he paid much attention, as he was asleep.
**
"Ow!" Moaned Harry Potter, hopping around his bedroom in severe pain. He had misjudged quite how hard his trunk was, and in the process of letting out his frustration, he had hurt his foot.
Harry fell on his bed, and pulled off his sock to examine the damage he had done. It was bright red around his toe. The pain appeared to have subsided a bit, so Harry prodded the toe.
"Ow!" He said again, so, yes, it did still hurt.
He sensed movement in the house, and heard his Uncle's distinctive thud as he pulled himself up the stairs. Sure enough, the door to Harry's bedroom was soon flung open, revealing the bright red and slightly damp figure of Vernon Dursley.
"I told you, you couldn't go!"
"I know." Said Harry, still holding onto his foot.
"And your barmy headmaster agrees, so unfortunately this year you're staying with us. So, you can start working now." Harry rolled his eyes, and started pulling on his sock again gingerly.
"What do you want me to do then, Uncle?"
"The lawn needs mowing."
"I did that yesterday!"
"Do it again!" Harry faked a smile.
"I'll do my homework first Uncle. There are more important things than shaving grass." Vernon snarled, and made for Harry's ear, in an effort to control him like he did five years ago. However, Harry held onto his Uncle's arm, stopping it from going any further forward. Vernon stuttered abuse.
"Now get out of my bedroom."
"We put the clothes on your back boy!"
"I could wear my own clothes if you want, it's not too hard. I'll just pull out my robes."
"Don't you dare wear that….freak clothing!" Spluttered Uncle Vernon. There was a silence in which Harry stared at his uncle as menacingly as he could, and Vernon seemed to get an even redder shade of purple.
"What are you waiting for?" Said Harry quietly. "Get out." Vernon narrowed his eyes, and turned his back on Harry, and walked out.
"Cool!" Said Harry, assessing the situation. He returned to his bed to let his foot out of the restrictive sock, and to feel sorry for himself because he was stuck in this place for another three months.
**
Harry,
Sorry you can't come and visit us, maybe I'll send Fred and George over to visit you instead! I can't come because I have a cold. Mum refuses to give me Pepper-Up potion or anything because she says it means I can't build up a resistance to colds if I take it. Hermione agrees. But then, Hermione would wouldn't she! I'm sure that there's a book somewhere that advocates the non-usage of all medicines so that poor, suffering children can 'build up a resistance'.
Anyway, write soon. There's no-one here really to keep me company at the moment except Ginny and Mum, as Percy's always working, and Fred and George are spending all of their time in their room. They are all driving me insane!
Ron
Harry put down the parchment and sighed. He'd love to have just Ginny for company at the moment. Anything but the Dursley's who had all changed their feelings about him from plain hatred, to fear, and a touch of hatred too. It was really very annoying how all conversation (no matter how mundane) stopped whenever he walked into a room.
Dudley had stopped bullying Harry too. It was a bit unnerving really, as eleven-year old Dudley wouldn't mind hurting much smaller and weedier Harry, but now had seemed to realise that Harry was becoming a force to be reckoned with. Not through physical strength, but Dudley thought that Harry could kill with a stare. That's what Vernon swore Harry was trying to do that day in his bedroom, but they couldn't get rid of him. They were being forced to keep him because of that damned Dumbledore.
Harry picked up his other letters. The Hogwarts letter carried a large note about the rise of Voldemort urging extra caution at all times. Harry also noticed that there was another note saying that quidditch was, at this moment in time, going to be resumed in September.
Harry had also subscribed to the Daily Prophet, taking a note from Hermione's book. He had noticed that there was virtually no mention of Voldemort's return, although there were signs that not even the most stupid wizard could miss. The obituaries column had grown from a column to a page. There had been a number of mysterious muggle killings, which traced paths through the entire United Kingdom. Of course, Cornelius Fudge had been denying Harry's 'lunatic' claims ever since he made them. Harry thought that Fudge was being mad enough by not taking any precautions, but he was keeping his eyes out for any sign of him being dragged into politics.
Hermione had also written;
Dear Harry (she wrote)
As you know, I should be in Bulgaria right now, but my parent's decided to cut the trip short when Nana died. It wasn't unexpected really, she's been ill for ages but it's still sad.
Ron's still moaning about having a cold, but he was really sympathetic about Nana. I'm sorry that you can't come to the Burrow, it must be so annoying being stuck at the Dursley's! I suppose the only time we're all going to meet up now is when we go to Diagon Alley, isn't it?
I've done a bit of research on the protection the Dursley's give you ("Typical, thought Harry). Before you say anything, I haven't had much else to do! I finished all of my homework before we went to Bulgaria and I don't have much else to do before I go and stay at Ron's.
He's really annoying Ginny. We've been writing this year, and she is so bored at the Burrow. With all of her brother's busy (or ill) there's nothing to do but help Mrs Weasley. She wrote to me to complain solely that she has resorted to reading Hogwarts: A History! A last resort?
Write soon,
Love Hermione
Harry put the letter down. He had done all of his homework too. Although he hadn't resorted to such drastic measures as Ginny, he had resorted to reading Dudley's school textbooks. Not the most thrilling reading material, but 4 Privet Drive had never been full of books. The most challenging book Harry expected Uncle Vernon to have read was called 'The Drillers' book of Drills and Drill Bits', and it lived in a bookcase, sandwiched in between volumes and volumes of...photo albums.
He was bored.
He had already made a calendar which told him how many days there were until he left for Hogwarts (51), and not only had he done this all with his quill and some spare parchment, but he had even decorated it with pictures from 'Fantastic Beasts and where to find them' and also a few broomsticks and snitches for good measure.
Harry sat down, grateful for the opportunity to write a few letters. Of course he would reply to Ron and Hermione. He wouldn't even try writing to Sirius, as Harry knew that he was out of contact for a while doing goodness knew what. Harry considered what else he could write, when he realised that Hermione had mentioned that Ginny was at her wits end too. Ron, Hermione and Ginny it was.
**
Ginny was lying on her bed, looking up at the ceiling.
There was a crack right in the middle , but if she closed her left eye, then her right, and carried on doing that really quickly, the crack moved from side to side!
Ginny moaned.
"What am I doing! I know, I'll read something." With that thought in mind, Ginny reached over to pick up 'Hogwarts: A History', but she knew that it was just too boring! Hermione had revealed all of the little twists there were in Hogwarts' history, or at least in the first couple of pages Ginny had read. But the pictures were nice, so maybe she'd look at the pictures for a while. Then, if she closed her left eye, and then her right eye really quickly, the pictures moved. But then, they moved anyway.
Ginny looked out of her window and sighed wistfully. The little specks of white in the sky really were very beautiful, but that one was getting bigger, and bigger, and it was approaching her window! Ginny screamed, but then realised the rather large white speck was actually an owl. Feeling rather foolish, Ginny opened the window, and in flew a magnificent snowy owl.
"Hedwig?" Asked Ginny to the owl, half expecting a reply. In a manner, there was a reply, as Hedwig held out a leg, offering a letter. Ginny shook her head. "Ron's down in the living room sleeping. You want him." Hedwig though, didn't move. Ginny approached the bird warily. Hedwig was a bit big for her liking. Then the letter caught her attention, it said 'Ginny' on the front, with an envelope decorated with quite badly drawn dragons. The attempt made her laugh though, as she detached the letter from Hedwig's leg. As soon as the letter was delivered, Hedwig flew off, with still another letter to deliver.
Ginny, now alone again in her room looked at the letter. It had to have been from Harry, but why was he writing to her, and decorating the envelope? Maybe to him, dragons were the equivalent of hearts…?
"No Ginny, you're getting carried away. It's a letter, not a proclamation of undying love." She said quietly to herself. But just to check if it was indeed a proclamation of affection, Ginny tore into the parchment.
Hi Ginny,
I heard that you were bored. As you can probably tell, I am bored too, although I have not betrayed the unspoken pact yet! Hermione said that you've started reading Hogwarts: A history. Frankly Virginia, I am disappointed in you. ("He knows my name!" thought Ginny, "and it sounds like he's flirting with me. Written flirting. That means true love…" Ginny paused, "well it could do!")
Although, I am reading 'Biology for the Incredibly Dumb.' Quite interesting really, should really be titled 'Porn for the incredibly sad scientist', but that's the very boring bit.
Anyway, I take it that life with Ronald the invalid isn't shaping up to be a bed of roses? It's bad enough receiving ten letters a day with blotches of snot in the top corner to prove that he really has a got a cold! Ok, I made that up to make myself laugh as the Dursley's aren't even talking to me this year. Means I've resorted to copying pictures out of school books. I know I can't draw, but there's not much else to do, considering I'm not really allowed to go out on the town. Little Whinging Discotheque closed down in the seventies I think as well…
Anyhow, write back soon, I need someone sane (ie, not Mrs Ron on Mr Hermione)to talk to!
Harry
Ginny fell backwards on her bed with a sigh. She smiled at the crack in the wall, and winked at it, making it smile back.
A/N – I'll upload the next chapter soon, half term next week and I'll be avoiding revision!
Check out my story in progress Et Tu Brutae, and other stories by clicking on my profile!