hello, fanfiction community! well, this little gem (if you could call it that...) has been sitting in my documents folder for the better half of six months, and i've been away. so here it is! please leave a review for this unedited, unseen piece of writing xox

"You have to be bloody kidding me," said Ron, sitting next to his very redheaded sister. "I told you not to wander around the Muggle city by yourself. Especially at night."

Ginny scooted away from him, scowling but pale-faced. She gripped her arm tighter. Hermione pulled it away almost as quickly.

"You're burning up! Almost as hot as an oven," said Hermione.

"I'm not a child, Ron!" she replied before wincing. Hermione cleaned the fresh wound on Ginny's arm. "Please, it's not a big deal. I'm sure he was drunk, or something."

"Goodness, Ginny, you're burning up. You should lie down or something."

"Gin, I can surely tell you that when I'm drunk, I don't go around biting people. It's absolutely barmy. You should be looked at. Harry's going to be more than tetchy with this one."

"Ron, please," said Hermione, in a lower voice. "I'm sure Ginny's more than shook up. Let it be. For now, at least," she added, seeing the expression plastered onto Ron's face. "Just wait. We'll all be home at the same time later. It's been a long day."

"Yeah, and we've still got work."

"Bye, guys," said Ginny, heading into the kitchen.

"We should be home around 10. Just take it easy." said Hermione, before slipping on her shoes and Apparating out of the flat.

)o(

It was rather dark when Ron and Harry arrived back at their flat. The wind beat at the windowpanes, mimicking a haunt. Ron sniffed loudly, his red nose wrinkled, and it seemed to be the only noise present, aside from the weather's sad song.

"I can't believe they're making her stay late again," said Ron. There were only three sets of shoes in the doorway, Ron and Harry's the only one's wet. "I'd care for more vacation days."

"Ginny?" called Harry, wandering into the kitchen, Ron following. "Ginny?"

And what they saw next struck them both as very odd. In the same spot as many hours ago sat Ginny Weasley, though she looked very, very stiff.

"Hey," said Ron, putting a hand on her shoulder. She jerked violently, coming up out of her chair. The two men were sent back with a start – her skin was much paler than it had been earlier, for it was a grayish-green sort of tone. Her eyes, very glossy, were no longer their warm sort of brown, but a sick white, as if her pupils had been absorbed by the rest of the eye.

"What the fuck?" Ron managed, backing up harshly into the kitchen counter. "Ginny?"

Very suddenly, she seemed to finally take note of them. Her eyes shone with detection and something else, very unrecognizable. She leaned forward slowly, and a low groan came from between her lips.

"Ginny?" repeated Harry, though his voice was nothing but a frightened whisper.

The noise seemed to have set her off, and she came forward, suddenly and bumpily, her body jaggedly crashing into Harry's and sending them onto the floor. She let out an otherworldly croak, her fingernails tearing at Harry's skin. He screamed and flailed, horribly confused, while Ron stood watching, looking horror-struck.

"Get her off!" yelled Harry, kicking her roughly in the stomach and into Ron's legs. "Shit, I'm so bloody sorry."

Pulling himself up, he looked horribly apologetic, but that was before this new Ginny launched herself on her very own brother. She snapped her jaws at his face as he writhed on the ground. It was to their own disadvantage that they were afraid to use force. Harry attempted to work around that, and pulled Ginny – or whatever she had become – by the collar of her shirt away from Ron.

"Bedroom!"

Ron nodded hurriedly, coming to his feet awkwardly and sprinting into Harry's small room. Harry ran from behind Ginny, who clawed at his arm, but didn't match his speed.

"Stupefy!" cried Ron, his wand unleashed and pointed towards Ginny.

The light spewed from the tip of Ron's wand, though it merely knocked Ginny over into an obstreperous stance against the wall, barely stalling her at all. She lurched awkwardly down the hall as Harry squeezed through the door, which Ron was leaning on.

"Buggering fuck, Ron! The door!"

Ron cursed loudly; they had neglected fixing Harry's broken door for weeks, never realizing it might come between a seemingly imminent death and a longer life. They both pushed on the door as Ginny's hand crept between the crack. Ron thrust himself into the door roughly; a sickening snap came from her wrist and she let out an inhuman cry.

"Shit – sorry!" said Ron, though he wasn't sure if it was still right to be sorry. Whoever they were protecting themselves from, it couldn't have been Ginny. At least, the Ginny they knew.

"What do we do? What the bloody hell's going on?" asked Harry, sounding hysteric. He closed his eyes tightly and reopened them – this was no nightmare.

"Oh Merlin, oh Merlin," cried Ron. "After all these years of saying it, she's actually going to kill me."

Harry turned his neck slightly, carefully gaining view through the slim crack in the door.

"Ginny, you have to listen, okay?" he said, attempting at a firm tone. "You're sick. Just very, very sick."

She stared at him for a moment; head cocked almost like a curious dog's, before snapping at him again like a rabid animal. He shrieked like a child at her response, setting Ron off as well. Harry closed his eyes tightly, the door shuddering behind him.

"What the fuck, Ron? Just – just – what's going on?"

Then, very suddenly, there was a metallic sort of noise, and the shuddering of the door ceased. Harry opened his eyes and pulled the door open roughly, to see a dishevelled Hermione, a pan raised in her hands like a powerful weapon. Ginny was on the ground, her neck cricked. Ron looked hysterical.

"You killed her!"

"She was already dead, Ron," said Hermione, her voice equally high. She ignored their flabbergasted looks and grabbed Ginny's ankles. "In the closet. Now."

"What? Are you mad?"

"Now!"

Harry swallowed hard and grabbed Ginny's ankles. Hermione backed up, before taking charge and stuffing Ginny's broken body into the linen closet.

"Hermione, what's going on?" asked Ron, looking very much like his twelve year old self, encountering Aragog.

"There's something very, very wrong with Ginny."

Ottery St. Catchpole had never been deemed a very flashy or troublesome town. In fact, it was considered a rather quiet little place, where nothing out of the ordinary ever seemed to happen. Muggles lived with their wizarding neighbors, blissfully unaware of the significant world beyond theirs. It was a plain and eventless sort of town, where the most activity took place during the generic town fair, and yard sales. However, as night fell over the small town, the unnatural carnage in the streets continued. The sound of terror echoed in the air. Rubble, wrecked cars, and corpses littered the streets, painting the grim picture of great catastrophe.

The four survivors moved as silently as they could through the alleyway, alert and cautious, training their weapons on anything that moved. George, recently taken into the group, was shaky at best. Having been discovered in Ron's attic bedroom of The Burrow, terrified for his life and surrounded by the torn bodies of family and friends only hours ago, he wasn't on the top of his game, but it was essential they kept on foot.

Hermione, being muggle-born and a little too smart, was quick to figure out what was going on. Being fluent in John A. Russo, it wasn't off to call this The Night of the Living Dead – except there was another thing. It wasn't as if Merlin himself was digging out of his grave, but it was a sickness, spread through bodily fluids, and it spread very quickly.

The group travelled quietly, trying to keep eyes everywhere at once. Hermione's vigilant eyes scanned the area for any signs of danger, her ponytail sweeping through the air. She held a baseball bat in front of her with one hand, while her other hand grasped her wand, Lumos lighting up the group's path.

It was hard learned that magic didn't kill off the biters. A close shave between Ron and the infection taught them well, when not even one of his spells managed to take them out. A lethal blow to the head was what it took. They were battling the undead army – zombies.