Summer. And light. And pretty happy things that made butterflies flutter about lilies next to a lake while the wind blew about the branches and leaves of a nearby oak pleasantly and all heavenly like.
Ah, dreaming. Ginny Weasley was dreaming. And somewhere in this dream she was being fed chocolate covered strawberries and listening to some musician play the harp while some random Swedish maiden gave her a pedicure and rubbed lavender scented salts on her feet.
So naturally something had to happen that would ruin it.
Like Fred barging into her room and throwing a pile of books on her desk and shaking her violently until she awoke muttering curses at him and talking some nonsense about Sweden and flowers.
"Gins don't be a nob, come on and wake up I have to talk to you about something that could change the world as we know it. Or at least keep me entertained for the summer." As he spoke he played about with one of her Care of Magical Creatures texts. Obviously it wanted its sleep too, as it snapped at his fingers. Letting it fall to her desk once more he looked over to her.
She groaned in protest but sat up in her bed anyhow. She felt so wrong leaving the comfort of her warm covers and her warm pillow and her warm blankey… Blankey?
Blushing ferociously Ginny shoved her childhood blanket underneath her pillow and kicked back her covers. "What are you yakking on about Freddy?" She mumbled, giving out a yawn and stretching like a cat.
Fred rolled his eyes at the sibling name and cast an annoyed glance at her. He smirked and let out a snicker, walking over to her vanity he grabbed up a brush and placed it in her hands. She gave him a confused look and he shook his head. "You look like someone ran you through the Womping Willow or at least your hair anyways."
With a cackle he watched as Ginny glared at him murderously but brought the brush to her red mess of hair and began detangling all she could. "So what's this about summer?" She continued, changing the subject.
"It's brilliant Gins, it really is." He started off, grabbing up a dark leather-bound book that had its spine almost dangling by a few threads. "See I figure if I can start up my own business than I can just as easily sell all the stuff me and George wanted to, but keep all the profit instead of selling our idea to some hotshot company who would eventually cheat us out of galleons anyways."
His enthusiasm was sweet but the idea entirely too impractical for the youngest Weasley.
"Fred, not to burst your bubble or anything…"
"Wait! You haven't heard the best part!"
"Fred, honestly, you need money to start your business or to at least buy a building and then you need workers and that'll cost and then you need supplies and you just don't have the funding to start off is all I'm saying." She ended, sighing because she was far too tired to get into her knowledge of business which sadly wasn't as bad as she thought and it was just far too depressing to break her brother's spirit this early in the morning. "Couldn't you have waited until later to talk about this?"
Fred, taken aback by her sudden case of pessimism, pouted childishly and shook his head. "Of course not," His sad expression changed to that of happiness and excitement. "Because it's so brilliant!"
Ginny smacked her forehead with the palm of her hand, trying as hard as she could not to throw her brush at him. "Fred, honestly,"
"Wait, Gins!" He exclaimed, hopping on her bed next to her and flipping through the pages of the book he had in his hands. "See I went back in the history of businesses and stuff and I found out that if I can get one of those hotshot companies to sponsor us and we can just pay them a small profit over the years, then maybe George and I could have our own place! Don't you see? It's all too wonderful to let drift away!"
Ginny sighed, now done with her hair she set the brush down on her nightstand. "Fred, you still need to make this hotshot company sponsor you. And how do you figure you do that?"
Ginny suddenly became very worried. Very worried at the fact that all of a sudden Fred's face lit up and he eyed her mischievously. "We'll get the smart one in the family to do it."
Ginny cocked her head to the side, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion until she finally caught on to what he was talking about. Gasping she pushed up off the bed and turned so quick Fred almost fell backwards. "Fred, are you MAD? I'M not doing ANYTHING! I don't even have anything to do with your strange little business anyways!" Blushing a magnificent red, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the room and downstairs with Fred's voice getting smaller behind her.
Making it into the kitchen she sighed and shook her head, already exhausted with how the morning turned out. And tonight she'd have to return to Hogwarts. Wait. Train. When did the train leave?
"Morning Ginny dear, looks like someone ruffled your feathers this morning." Came her mother's cheery voice as she walked in from the garden carrying some dirt covered vegetables in one hand and an axe in the other.
"Mum, when's the train for Hogwarts leave? What time is it? Am I late?" Ginny looked about frantically for the clock.
Smiling gently, Mrs. Weasley walked over and, setting her things down, gave her daughter a powerful hug. "Ginny, your train doesn't leave for another four hours and Harry and Hermione will be over to get you and Ron when you have to leave so don't worry!"
Slightly further away from panic attack Ginny relaxed in her mother's embrace. "Thanks mum, and what's this about Fred and George and their own business?" Ginny asked, her eyebrows raising at her mother's reaction…
This was laughter.
Lots of laughter.
Oodles so bad that her mother had to release Ginny and almost double over the dining room table in laughter.
"Mum, I didn't think it was that funny, I just thought it was a bit annoying." Ginny blinked and was tempted to call the doctor on her mum until she finally stood up and wiped a few stray tears from her eyes.
"I'm sorry Gins, but just think of your brothers running a business! They'd be so lost I'd expect them to run home crying for me, it's a precious thought really." Mrs. Weasley's cheeks were red and she laughed a little more, shaking her head and walking back over to the door. "Tell Ron to come down for breakfast in twenty minutes, until then you can clean up your room and get your stuff ready for Hogwarts because I don't want you turning into Percy and having to get every last thing together three minutes before we leave the house." At this Mrs. Weasley paused and looked down at her feet. Ever since last year any mention of Percy had thrown her into some sort of a quiet fit.
Ginny sympathized with her poor mother and gave her a quick hug before she walked upstairs. She couldn't make her mother's problems go away no matter how hard she tried. It was hard to admit that though. Finding a ponytail holder in a dish in the hallway, Ginny pulled her hair up into a messy bun and knocked on her brother's door. When no reply came she thrust it open to find an untidy bed but no Ron. Rolling her eyes she walked across the hall to the bathroom.
She pushed on the door but it wouldn't open. Groaning she jimmied the door handle before the door, settling back in place, finally opened to reveal,
Well…
A very nude Harry Potter.
His brown eyes settled on Ginny's figure and for a moment it was as if both were suspended in time. Well, a split second.
"Bloody hLL Harry!" Ginny almost threw herself backwards with the force she used to cover her eyes. "Blimey I'm so sorry!"
Harry fumbled about to find a towel while covering his privates and finally grabbed the shower curtain about his waist. By this time both were beet red and before anything else could be said or done Ginny slammed the door shut and in a flushed embarrassment took flight into her room and locked herself into her own closet. Ginny waited for a moment until her heart settled back into her chest, her hand over it, she could feel the palpitations as if they were about to burst through her palm. After a moment she realized the look of sheer terror that was plastered on her face as her skin was stretching with irritation. She relaxed her muscles but she could not dispel the utter fear written on her features.
Meanwhile Harry was still starring in awe at the closed door, half toppled onto the toilet seat and half poising himself with one hand on the wall as the other grasped the (he now noticed) clear shower curtain about his middle regions. Blushing even further he plucked up his glasses from the counter and after wiping the fog from the lenses, pulled a towel from the nearby bar and dried himself. He was breathing so hard that seconds later his lenses were fogged up once more and he was forced to remove them for the time being.