Disclaimer: Cloudy does not own Herbal Essence Commercial where the person says "I have the urge," Orlando Bloom, Tom Felton, Hello Kitty, the "For Idiots" serious, Harry Potter or any characters related to the serious. She doesn't make money from this; it is made for the sole purpose of creating her own and hopefully others' enjoyment.

The Perils of a Bus


The evening sun streamed between the slits of the closed blinds and hit her eyes, giving it the determined glint that could only be matched by that in her heart. Ginny was going to go through with the plan, no matter what. She had always been the one people looked down upon. She was either too small, too young, too slow or scrawny, or of course, the universally accepted format of a combination of all three. Contrary to common theory, her brothers were selfish, pompous, and plainly stated: dumb, when it came to the needs of a fifteen-year-old girl. Well that was being a bit unfair, Ron at times did care, to some degree, though lately he had been obsessed with the amazing glimmer in Hermione's chocolate brown eyes and although Ginny had never seen it she was hoping to catch at least one glimpse of the rumored phenomena.


So lately, under the neglect of her family and supposed friends, she had hatched the plan. Yes, the plan. The one that would help her get a brand-new start. The one that would make her someone other than simply so-and-so's's little sister. So in the smothering confines of her room she had worked out every last detail, carefully and extensively and then one day the plan had been complete.

She looked down at her Witchy Ritchie watch. 5:00 p.m. Almost time. Picking up her polka-dotted duffle bag, she went over her checklist one last time, "Cclothes¡K check. The mere mention of the strange clothes residing in her luggage brought forth many bad memories, she had asked Ron to give her a Muggle magazine. She had forgotten to mention she was looking for clothes and not for one of the following: camping gear, Hello Kitty accessories, fish tanks, and most definitely not underwear. It had taken her brother at least five tries to come back with a normal magazine with clothes in it. Notebook¡K check, writing utensil¡K check. Money (the papery green stuff that her mom put in the blender)¡Kcheck. Underwear¡K check. And obviously clothes, the kind that eccentric Muggle girls' wear¡K check. She turned around and gave her room one last look. The black walls were a stark contrast to the white, ruffled bed sheets. The cheerful pictures of her family waving at her, their eyes holding a knowing glint. Her pink teddy bear, Susie, looked at her with dark, pleading eyes. The picture of Harry smirked at her wickedly. All this she would leave behind simply to start over. Was her choice sane? Or was it a momentary lapse of logic that had weaved its way into her brain? No matter, for if it was a lapse in logic is was currently still in effect. With that thought she walked out of the door, leaving her entire person and identity behind her, to be lost in the midst of many family albums.

*******

The young girl with red hair had not moved for about an hour, aside form the occasional checking of her watch. Why the Ministry found this girl so intriguing was beyond him. She was simply a confused teenager who didn't know what she was doing. Dal changed his grip on the broom and gave the girl another thorough look over; nothing stood out. One thing was for sure though, something bigger was at work.


*******


Ginny checked her watch again. 5:45 p.m. According to the queer sign, the bus would come in ten minutes. 'That's what they call it,' Ginny thought proudly, patting the Muggle-Wizard Dictionary currently located in the pocket of her jacket. She checked her watch again, still nine more minutes and even then the bus would most likely be late. At least that is what Kovac's Theory of Muggle Bus Travel claimed. The theory was also very thorough about what to look for when looking for a bus: When looking for a bus, one must remember: the dominant features can be viewed from a safe distance, one must not go prancing up to the windshield waving wildly or chances are that that was the last sight-seeing tour will attend. First, buses have a very distinctive horn, that when pushed releases an aggravating honking noise that in theory is designed to run learning drivers off the road. The second dominant feature is the presence of two very bright headlights, which in turn are designed to blind the drivers coming from the opposite direction. The book was of course based upon long months of research and thereby had made the author known as a martyr to the cause of deciphering the secrets of Muggle bus travel.

Ginny had been very confused when she first read the theory, she had even gone as far as to bye the new best-selling, Kovac's Theory of Muggle Bus Travels for Dummies, this theory had been equally disturbing. She glanced down at her watch one more time, 3 more minutes. Them suddenly out of nowhere came deafening noise and the street was illuminated, leaving her in a halo of radiant light. The noise became louder and started to form a distinct honking noise that grew louder and louder until it finally stopped. She looked up, in front of her there was a four-wheeled-vehicle with its doors open and a sign saying "London" mounted on the roof.

So this was the bus to London, convenient. She grabbed her baggage and ran up to the door. The driver was an elderly man with an over-sized potbelly that hung over his denim pants.


'My first conversation with a Muggle,' she thought in bliss.


"Excuse me, may I purchase a ticket to London?" She uttered the hallowed first few words shakily.


The bus driver, however, did not feel an equal need to be polite, "Of course, you twit, now hurry up, I don't have all night!" Maintaining a fake smile on her now annoyed face she handed the nosey and rude driver the mashed up green stuff that she had managed to save from the blender.


"What are you trying to pull, you brat?" Ginny looked at him questioningly as he glared back at her hotly, "This money is torn, shredded, worthless, and cannot pay for a thing. "I'm sorry, but you can't buy a bus ticket with this," he said, "I'll have to ask you to leave the bus."


"Not, so fast," came a voice from the back of the bus. Standing in the place of the enormously loud voice was a little, slender Asian girl with a lime green trench coat on. "I'll pay," she said, handing the bus driver the fare.

Ginny just stared at her, "Uh¡K That would be nice, thank you."

The girl in the lime green coat simply smiled, "Don't mention it." With that she grabbed Ginny's hand and dragged the reluctant redhead to the back of the bus. Ginny had read about situations like these in her mother How to be the Perfect Mother Guide: A Guide to Young Wizards' Minds. The selections had been complete with many stories about witch-knapping and as it had promised an extremely inaccurate description of a teenage wizard's head. Ginny had been so appalled that she had put a hex on the magazine so that whenever her mother opened the selection to read she would have an irresistible urge to go buy Ginny presents instead. The hex though did not quite work, Ginny's mother had an irresistible urge to eat cheese instead, and she had gained lots of weight until finally she took pity on her mother and secretly burned the binding of useless pieces of papers.


The stories about the witch-knappings, however, had been very educational: Any person can be a potential witch-knapper, even the smallest of all creatures. 'Was the girl in the lime coat a witch-knapper?' Ginny thought with a shiver.

"Oh, are you cold? Here, use my coat," the little girl said.

'Oh no, the evil witch-knapper is trying to entrance me with kindness,' thought Ginny. "Uh¡K that's fine, thank you for offering." The girl looked at her strangely, then simply shrugged and quickened the pace towards the back of the bus.

"Hey Jazz, who is this?" They had finally reached the back of the bus and with it a collection of teenage girls and when I say a collection, I mean a collection.

The girls varied in all aspects: height, width, hair color, and not to mention the size of their feet. The girl speaking was clutching a notebook with orange blossoms and was now engaged in jotting down notes vigorously, after about two minutes she stopped and looked up inquiringly. "You look familiar, have I met you before?" Ginny was perplexed.

"Not that I know of."

"That's strange, I could have sworn I knew you, well, maybe it's just your hair. I'm a D/G fan, you know."

"I'm sorry, I'm not sure I'm familiar with that term, do you mean Dogs/Frogs?" Ginny inquired easily, slowly but surely relaxing.


"Dogs/Frogs? No, not exactly, it stands for Draco/Ginny," the girl said as though it was common knowledge.


"Uh really, how interesting," Ginny said, too relaxed to notice the use of her name.

"I know. The ship is absolutely amazing with all the possibilities: there's the cliché fics, the very cliché fics, the extremely cliché fics, and the insane fics written by authors who want to be different. The realm of D/G is so unexplored, there are so many possibilities out there."

Ginny was slowly falling asleep, but for the sake of being polite kept the conversation going, "So what's your favorite fic?"


"Uh that would be one of the million where Draco falls in love with Ginny on the beach," she said dreamily.

Ginny looked up for a second, "That was freaky you know, I thought you just said Draco/ Ginny."

The girl looked at her, still in a dreamy trance somewhere far away on beach, "I did." Ginny started to swerve and get very green, not normal green but the kind of green that the Polly Juice Potion turns when it's gone twelve months over its due date.

The surrounding girls quickly rushed to her side and caught her arms, "Hey you, are you O.K."

'Am I O.K.?' her mind was racing, 'more accurately, are they O.K. I mean really who on this planet would like that mature plantain Draco Malfoy?' She was just thinking of 20 ways to torture him with sun tan lotion, when suddenly the girls' voices intruded upon her thoughts. They were currently all lined up over her face and were talking about a possible concussion. They were about to do CPR when Ginny finally decided it was time to get up.


"What was that?" the girl in the lime green coat asked.

"Nothing," Ginny answered a bit nervously.

"Good, because I thought it was my ship that made you faint!" the girl clarified. Ginny decided not to.

'What was a ship anyway?' She had read that it was a hollowed out tree trunk that Muggles used for transportation and that had a 90% mortality rate.

"Don't worry about it, Sabby simply gets defensive about her ship," the girl in the lime green coat said. "I, on the other hand, ship H/D," she said.

'H/D, H/D, H/D, let me guess Dragon/Hippogriff,' Ginny thought. "I'm sorry, I'm not familiar with that term either," she said, steeling herself against the words she was about to hear.

"Oh, that's fine, I'll tell you: it's Harry/Draco."

'Now this is absolutely disgusting,' Ginny thought. Her only brush with slash had been Valentines day three year ago when Lupin, her Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher had sent a frilly red card to her Potions Master, the infamous Snape. What Lupin saw in the greasy Potions Master still remains a mystery, but it is said that Snape had been receiving a frilly red card every Valentines day there on. The idea of Draco/ Harry though set her teeth on edge. 'Harry's mine, you hear? Mine, mine alone to do with, as I like,' she thought angrily. "N

Noting the heat coming out of Ginny's ears the girl in the lime green coat said, "Don't worry, I simply read it for fun."

A girl with a brown bun chimed in, "She calls it entertainingly stupid, if you catch my gist."

'Ah, so she does have some sense after all,' Ginny's mind recited in a chorus.

While she had been gone in her own little word the girl in the coat had been delivering a recital, "¡KAnd then he says, 'I take yoga." (Author's Note: I do not, repeat, do not read slash, but my friend does and I get a daily summary of all proceedings.) Ginny did not know the quote, but considering the text it could mean nothing good.

This group was a bit eccentric, but aside from their few flaws they were rather agreeable with a dry humor and an even drier wit, that dominated the air. It seemed though that had not slept for quite some hours and that they had not had any coffee of which to speak. Well, maybe one of them had had some coffee; it was a girl of medium stature with a curly, brown bun that stuck up at odd angles. She was wearing a shirt that said "Caffeine Junkie" and was leaning on a pillow that had the phrase "Where is the Coffee?" embroidered on it. This girl in question seemed to be bouncing off the walls and was thereby in a stark contrast with the rest of the group, which looked as if it was about to drop.

Trying to make a conversation she asked, "Why are you going to London?"

The girl in the lime green coat shrieked and suddenly the girl with the bun jumping off the walls was no longer alone. Still bouncing up and down on her seat she let go about five more screeches and then clenched out, "We're going to see Tom Felton," came out the hissing whisper. Ginny absorbed this piece of information slowly. It was obvious that they knew at least one other Draco. Just as she was about to ask Draco who, a girl with extremely long blond hair broke in.

"So we are not going to see Orlando Bloom?" she said in an agitated screech.

"Tommy. No Orli, get your facts straight."

"I know my facts, and they are that we are going to England to see Tommy!" These two really needed a moca freeze, or at the very least something with caffeine.

Just as the noise level was starting irritate the driver, Sabby retaliated with her own reason and what she assumed to be everyone else's reason for going to London, "Girls, now let us be serious, we all know that the reason we're going is to see all the amazing historical land marks so that we have a chance to expand our minds."

Jazz, the girl in the lime green coat looked thought full for a minute, "You mean the place that Tommy was born, or where he lost his first tooth, no, maybe we can visit the place where he learned to dance ballet in a pink tutu."

The girl with the long hair gave a sarcastic glare, "I don't think Tom Felton dances ballet, Jazz, and if he did he definitely would not do it in a pink tutu."


"Well, it doesn't have to be pink," Jazz grumbled, baring her teeth to her opponent.

The girl with the long hair simply stared as Sabby informed Jazz of the facts, "Jazzy, I know it will be hard for you to hear this, but males don't wear tutus when dancing, they wear extremely tight pants and tops."

"Well, then go to the place were Tommy tried on his first dancing costume," Jazz said in a voice that contained an irritated drawl.

The girl with long hair finally broke her silence, "Jazz, lets simply leave this subject knowing that Tom Felton most likely does not dance and if he did he would not dance ballet; he would dance funk."

The girl with bun had a laugh attack, "Funk? Did you just say funk?"

"That's right, I did."

"People don't dance funk anymore!"

"You wanna bet?" the girl with long hair asked, a haunted cats in he eyes.

The girl with the bun saw it an promptly responded, "I've seen belly dancing to certain select rock CDs, but never funk, so please inform us, Cali.

"I will not divulge all my secrets to the evil clutches of you people," the girl with the long hair snapped.


Ginny, mean while, was becoming more an more annoyed, "Charming dialogue really, but not really what I had in mind when I asked why you were going to London." The girls came to an awkward halt and Ginny sighed. 'Next question,' she thought, 'let's hope that this one gets a normal answer.' "So, are you traveling alone?" she heard herself ask.

"No, of course not, my mother and sister are coming with us," the girl with the bun informed Ginny. "They're also big fans of British comedy, I think it rubbed off," just as the girl finished her statement Ginny saw a strange duo walking down the aisle coming from the direction of the bathroom.

"How many times do I have to tell you that the only time people wash their hair on a bus is in a shampoo commercial," the taller one was saying.

"I know, I know, but I had the urge," the smaller of the two answered.

'The urge?' That sounds a bit wrong, Ginny thought.

The duo was still approaching at a somewhat slow pace considering that they were stopping by every other passenger and asking how they had enjoyed the trip so far. Slowly they reached their destination and first struck a dramatic pose and them sat down and started sorting through messy bags for what seemed to be a lunch. They took out the items that seemed to be lunches and promptly started sorting through the strange array of food searching for what seamed to be asparagus. It wasn't asparagus, but something else that Ginny couldn't quite identify. The girl with brown hair simply looked on with an entertained look on her face. 'What a trio, Ginny thought, I wonder what it would be like living with them 24/7.'

The bus rattled on, the group kept arguing: the mother and sister kept sorting through their bags filled with food. The bright city lights in the distance became clearer and clear until one could trace the stream of light back to the lantern that had made it.

Finally. They were in London.

Ginny looked out the window trying to block out the shrieks of the group around her, right now she only had one question: Had she made the right choice?

Her thought was interrupted when the bus rattled to a stop and Sabby started to gather her luggage, "By the way, where are you staying?"

'That's a good question,' Ginny thought, 'where am I staying?'

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