Her waist length auburn hair was pulled up into a messy bun, and pieces of it were falling around her face as she bustled around the Leaky Cauldron. She had pitchers of butterbeer and ale, sloshing about in her hands as she made her rounds.
"Oi, Miss, can I get some more butterbeer?" A man called out to Ginny.
She nodded, fed up with the customers; she had just been to their table not more than five minutes ago to see if they needed anything. When customers asked for something it made her feel rather horrible, as if she wasn't doing her job in the right fashion. Ginny had just begun to work here for the summer, usually in the mornings from about 10 until 5 in the afternoon. At which point, Forge and Gred would meet her and floo to the Burrow. She was tired, and her feet were aching, but oh how she loved the money, she had only been working for six days and had made 91 galleons. It was more than she had ever had at one time in her entire existence. She smiled, and made her way to the table. She took the mug of butterbeer from her esteemed customer and filled it to the top, and removed the catsup laden metal plate from the table.
"Is there anything else I can get for you sir? Dessert?" Ginny smiled and asked sweetly.
"What do you have?" The man asked. Ginny, went through the list, naming each dessert, one by one. Finally, he decided on Tom's famous Apple tart. She turned to leave and she bumped into a rather solid chest.
"Oh," she said, flustered at the impact and the fact that she had almost spilled the entire contents of the pitchers on the poor sap that got in her way. "I'm so sorry" She plopped the pitchers down and offered her hand to the fellow that she had knocked onto the floor. He immediately grasped her smaller, workers hands in his larger more aristocratic one.
"Thanks Weasel."
"If I knew it was you, I would have let you stay down there." She smirked and walked back to the counter to ring someone up.