Hey everyone! I'm Maha and this is a brand new story, The Insane Ramblings of Ginny Weasley. As you can tell, the title is insane as well…LOL Well, this story is not only written by me, a friend of mine is also writing it and her name is Sarah, and we share an account!
I will only continue with this story if I have an exceptional amount of reviews, seriously, reviews are like fuel for our hands to keep going, keep rambling, keep writing 'The Insane Ramblings of Ginny Weasley…' So…here it is! Drum rolls please
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Journal, (I'm certainly not going to call a book of plain parchment 'dear')
5:06 a.m in bed at:
(Where else you dolt? The BURROW!)
I don't get it. I'm in love with Harry Potter but I don't know why.
Well, maybe I do, maybe it's his forest green eyes and his hair---his hair I notice he never combs but looks tons better than Malfoy's. Who obviously wakes five in the morning to drown his hair in gel. But rather than that, I've been pretty darn stupid. I announced this morning in the burrow while Harry was asleep in Fred and George's warehouse-of-a-bedroom for their joke shop, that I was officially over this stupid boy-who lived when I had enough of my brother-of-prats teasing me! But here I am, journal, drooling at the previous sight of him drooling over a book on "Famous Quidditch Maladies"
Whoops, you're brand new, since my old journal's all 'full of it' as mum puts it. I need to give you a name. Oh, perfect, "The Insane Ramblings of Ginny Weasley (CAUTION: BROTHERS KEEP YOUR HANDS OFF OR I'LL HAVE TO CHOP EM OFF!) That sounds enough threatening, and I'm serious, if they don't keep their hands off you---wow, journal, you sound like a very sexy girl that they're all dying for and I'm an overprotective brother! Now don't get too excited! Anyways…..
Here's a list I've made and take a wild guess on the title, it's called "Getting a life"
1.Stop getting jealous when Harry gets all blushy and flushy and all that crap when he's near Cho in Hogwarts and not me.
2.Scratch out number one because that's not going to happen. He shall only flush and blush and all that crap around ME!
3.Take the blanket off my pygmy's cage and try to sleep with it whining.
4.Stop obsessing over Harry Potter
5.Take the blanket off my pygmy's cage and try to sleep with it whining.
6.Scratch out numbers 4-5 because a) 5 I've already written and b) 4 is not going to happen and c) 5 I've already written.
7.Scratch out c) because I a) already written it.
8.Put three, yes THREE blankets over my pygmy's cage so I can't here it's whining and so I can sleep peacefully and have my beauty rest.
9. Kill Ron's new prat—I mean rat for eating my favorite green stockings! GOOD LORD THAT LITTLE MIDGET CAN EAT!
10. Also, kill--
Oh shucks, I forgot the pies in the oven. And mum is screaming at the highest her lungs can blast. Did I mention we're having a feast today in the accordance of Bill and Phlegm's wedding? The reason why this detail comes last is because it's NOT important NOT exciting NOT---mum's about to explode her lungs any minute now…Ginny goes down to the rescue!
Love,
Ginny icklepicklekins (I just like the sound of it,)
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Journal,
8:33 a.m at: Dining table in the kitchen (Just finished baking the pies…THEY aren't burnt but I AM!)
How can I be so stupid? To tell you the truth, I have no sense of self-control, and that's just when I'm normal, you won't believe how much I suffer from loss of control when I'm mad.
You won't believe what happened while I was taking the pies out of the oven. Someone lightly pushed my head in the open-ajar oven door and I got so sweaty and my face was burning as the oven, HELLO was STILL BURNING. I shoved my head out and started cursing my tongue on fire, only to find a dazed looking Harry next to me; I thought he was the one who pushed me in. Here's what our conversation sort of went like, and no doubt, journal, I totally screwed!
"You freakin arse! You PRAT! You IDIOT! As if I'm not RED enough that you shove my face inside the oven!" I was fuming, journal, and now that I recall, I can't believe I, Ginerva Molly Weasley was shouting at full blast lungs at the love of my life.
"Ginny—I didn't—it was—
"OH! SO YOU LIE TOO! GREAT! YOU ARE SO FRIED LIKE A PANCAKE!" I had grabbed the frying pan and was running around the kitchen, mum was too busy staring at the Gilderoy Lockhart picture that was framed and smacked right in the middle of the wall in front of the sink; she hummed a old Weird Sisters 70's tone while she washed the dinner platters.
"GINNY! STOP! YOU'RE GOING TO INJURE SOMEONE REALLY BAD!" He looked so cute, journal, trying to take the frying pan out of my hands, but I was too busy feeling burnt and beet red in the face to see his innocence, so I purposely dropped the pan on his foot! WHAT WAS I THINKING!
"That's enough, Gin, I think Harry's learned to stay away from you now at all costs," Fred (Or was it George? I really didn't give a shit at that moment) was leaning over the kitchen door way, then he confessed that he had shoved my head into the oven and then he had ran, grabbed Harry from the living room while he was busy reading the book he drooled over earlier. AND HE STOOD HARRY NEXT TO ME AND MADE A QUICK ESCAPIDE' (as he puts it).WHEN I GOT MY QUAFFLE SIZED HEAD OUT, I THOUGHT HARRY WAS THE ONE THAT PUSHED MY HEAD INTO THE OVEN!
And then I did something even stupider; I took the frying pan and charged after George, (No, I think it was Fred—arrrgh," WHOEVER IT WAS!) And then Harry ran behind me, Fred/George ran up the stairs and into his cramped bedroom, where Harry was staying. Then he walked to the end of the wall, and as I was just about to slam the top of the pan into his face, in a quick smoke of dust he apparated, the pan loosened in my hand and it banged on the window INSTEAD, only bouncing back and hitting me hard, square in the eye. I fell butt-down on the ground with a huge souring purple eye. I SWEAR Harry was trying his best not to laugh, but finally let out a chuckle and covered it by a very violent cough.
And here I am, Fred/George is still not here, which makes me feel happy thinking they're scared because I'm freakin totally OUTRAGED!
I'm a miserable girl that's cooped up in the corner of my window ledge with a huge purple eye that goes well with my still-red face of being in the oven OH DOES IT STING!
I SHOULD'VE KNOWN BETTER! NOW HARRY REALLY DOES AVOID ME, ALMOST AS IF HE'S SCARED! I'VE BEEN SUCH A DOPE! Oh great, this day just gets better, phlegm is screaming at the top of her lungs for us to get down for a 'nouncment' WHY DOES EVERYONE HERE SCREAM AT THE TOP OF THEIR FREAKIN LUNGS? OH OOPS, I'M DOING IT IN MY HEAD TOO…
SIGNED,
GINNYP.S. THE GIRL HAVING THE MOST OFFICIALLY ATROCIOUS DAY IN GIRL HISTORY.
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Journal,
10:04 am at: In my room (After Phlegm announcement)
OO LA LA (NOT)! Phlegm is taking us to Rainbowphoenix alley. Where all the top-notch, immensely fortunate, beautiful and rich wizards shop. She blabbered on and on how she needed to convince her parents that she was going into a very 'pleasing' family. Translation: Rich family. So she's going to take us young lot (Me, Harry, Hermione Ron, and Fred and George) to Lady Vondra's D.G. D, which she elegantly explained stood for Dress Robes, Gowns, and Dress Jackets for ladies and gents for all the receptions, parties, balls and of course you dolt—the wedding!
The wedding is in 5 days, with a 'Uniting Two Lives' ball on Friday, which is four days away, a huge feast at the burrow for Fluer's close family, family friends and friends are invited, and the same goes for us on Thursday. Hermione was usually the first one to arrive at the burrow, but she's smart enough to come a day before everything so she doesn't have to do all the work. So cleverly, I bet you she'll arrive this Wednesday, which is two days away.
Haha, I've just given you this god-awful arthimancy problem to solve if you ever ask what day it is TODAY. You get a free answer, it's MONDAY today.
They don't call dear, gracious Hermione clever for no reason.
Truly yours, (Or yours truly? Does it matter if I switch the words around? I saw a glimpse of this ending note when Hermione used to secretly write letters to Viktor Krum back in 5th year.
Whatever, Signed,
Ginny
P.S. Like I'm SO-OO excited about going to Lady Vondra's (Note the sarcasm)