Author's Note:
This story is a series of one shots in the life of Ginny Weasley. These experiences may or may not have been based off of some of my actual real life moments. Please review, and enjoy.
I imagine this one to be the summer before Ginny's third year, or Harry, Ron, and Hermione's fourth year. It obviously takes place after the Quidditch World Cup.
I Do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters in the series.
Chapter 1
…you never, ever, leave juice on the table
Have you ever heard of flavour packets? If you haven't, they're these really amazing packets of flavouring, that you put in glasses of water, that make that water taste like something else. I know, they're pretty amazing. Hermione brought some when she came over before the whole World Cup disaster.
Back to the story. So, I'm sitting here, drinking a "raspberry ice" drink, from a flavour packet, when Mum hollers at me to go get something. So, me, being the nice person that I am, go to get whatever it is. I think it was a cup from the landing upstairs. Why it was there, I'll never know…
And all of a sudden, I hear shouts and a whole lot of cursing coming from the kitchen. I come back, without the glass, and see Fred holding a lot of red parchment, and George holding an empty glass, looking murderous, and muttering foul words under his breath.
"What is wrong with you?" Fred asks, attempting to get more red parchment off of the table.
"Why would you leave a glass of red juice on the table where it could spill all over everything?" George hisses at me, indicating the empty glass.
And just like that, it clicks. They must have knocked over my glass, spilling red juice all over their super secret parchment pieces, and now have the nerve to blame it on me!
"Me? I didn't do anything! I left my glass there for five seconds, to go get something, and you idiots spill it! Honestly, I turn my back for two seconds…" and I flop into a kitchen chair, trying to get a look at what the parchment says. But, because of the juice, all of the ink has run. Shame. Anyway, this just causes the twins to start shouting off their heads again about how I ruined all of their work.
"You sound like Percy," I mutter, which makes them start shouting louder. Which, naturally, draws Mum into the whole ordeal.
"What on earth are you three doing? And Ginny, did you even get that dustpan I asked you to get?" she asks, as the twins fall silent. All of a sudden, they start up again, telling Mum what exactly I did, while I zone out. It was a dustpan she wanted, not a glass. That makes so much more sense.
"Ginny, dear, are you listening?" Mum asks. I snap back into reality and notice the twins smirking at me. "I asked you to clean up the whole mess."
So, I had to clean up the sopping table, without magic, because it was summer hols, and I just happen to be underage. Stupid magic laws. At least, the twins had the decency to let me despair in peace, without them smirking at me every five seconds.
The lesson of the day is: In my house, you never, ever, leave juice on the table.