TITLE: Bug-Eyes, Boys, and My Friend Ginny Weasley
AUTHOR: IrisArcadia
RATING: PG-13
PAIRING: You'll find out...
DISCLAIMER: I wish it were mine, but alas, it's not.
SUMMARY: Ginny Weasley is a very quiet girl, and despite the efforts
of a Gryffindor names Benedict Gould her love life is non-existent.
Tori Rea Stanberry (A.K.A. Ginny's best friend) does her best to
change that, and ends up in one of the most awkward situation of her
fourteen year life...
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Hope you enjoy. R/R! : )
Bug-Eyes, Boys, and My Friend Ginny Weasley
Chapter One: Ginny Weasley really needs to lighten up
Ginny Weasley really needs to lighten up. I mean she's always so tense. I swear, if someone stuck a coal up the girl's arse it would turn into a bloody diamond. I love her, of course. She's my best friend. But bloody hell someone needs to teach that child how to have fun. "It's not her fault that she'd always so anxious," said Denise Atherton when we were in the loo talking about it. "I mean, we should applaud her -surviving fourteen years with just brothers for company! Not just brother -Fred and George Weasley! With their stupid pranks and cream canaries! I'd have gone mad!" "Don't be so sympathetic," I muttered savagely. What can I say: Years of living with Mr. I-Still-Shag-Like-A-Bachelor and the Beast (A.K.A. my dad and step-mum) have not molded me into a model person. "Ginny doesn't need sympathy." "Well she doesn't need to be attacked either," Denise pointed out harshly. "Your rather fond of doing that, you know. I really should tell Ginny to stop calling you her best friend." "I'm not attacking Ginny," I muttered impatiently. Denise was what Professor Snape would call a dunderhead, a wet dunderhead at that. Didn't she understand anything? "I'm looking out for Ginny. I don't want to watch her waste her life. She should be enjoying herself." "Right," Denise muttered with a hint of sarcasm in her tone. Who knew that she had that kind of wit? "And you're the party queen." I'm overestimated her. She doesn't have wit, none at all. "I have some bloody fun when I want to," I said quickly. Denise threw me a 'tut-tut' look. "Stop swearing," she chided. "Bloody. Bloody, bloody, bloody hell!" "Tori!" she squealed. "Stop it. You know that I don't appreciate swearing. It's hardly proper." "Most things aren't proper, Denny," I said. Denise rolled her eyes. "Don't call me, Denny. Honestly, Tori, you're like a child. Must I constantly reprimand you? How long are you going to be caught in this selfish rampage?" "Till I bloody keel over and die." Now I was becoming very impatient. "Look, do you want to help me or not?" "Help you what?" "Help me help Ginny." As if she could be thicker. "I don't want her to spent the rest of her life sitting on the side lines, ringing her hands in anxiety over her crush and studies and her bloody brothers. I want her to have fun." "No you don't," Denise accused. She was getting cross, which didn't make her attractive. Denise's complexion was very.red. When she was angry she took on the appearance of a walking tomato. "You're the most selfish prat I've ever met, Tori. You don't want anything for anyone but you. What you're planning.you want to mold Ginny into you, and that would be simply horrid. I mean -look at you! You're actions! You're a psychotic, sadistic monster!" I was liking Denise less and less by the second. Fortunately, I remained calm. "Naturally," I said, "but what does that make you, a prude?" Denise was simply taken aback. I smiled my best friendly smile and walked away. Please enigmatic-omniscient-force-of-the-universe, I prayed as I walked out of the room, don't let Ginny be mad about this. Because, if she is then.. Well, I have no friends. ***
How can I explain this? There are four girls in currently attending Hogwarts who are fourth year Gryffindors: Denise Atherton, Margot Neilson, Ginny Weasley, and me. Denise and Margot got along right away, of course, because they're both wet prudes. Ginny was too busy being shy to make friends with anyone except her stupid black notebook -and we all know how that turned out. As for me.well, who cares about my excuse? Either way, I was not the most social person first year. But during second year Ginny and I bonded you might say. She's a bit needy and annoying, but she grew on me. I'm rather fond of my nervous chum. And she'd never demanded any answers from me, unlike my two other roommates. When you come right down to it, Ginny is my best friend. In fact, I almost invited her to spend a week at my house over the summer, but then I remembered that the Beast still lived there and I instantly abandoned that thought. Despite Denise's accusation, I am in no way sadistic. Now had I actually invited someone into my step-mum's lair, then I would have been sadistic, thank you. My step-mum hate's me. And, I suppose that, in her mind anyway, she had valid reason. She's my dad's proper wife and everything. I'm the child an affair he had with his mistress (one of them). It's a very long story, and I see no need to go into details. My mum's dead. So, anyway, after I was born the Beast felt the need to say: "Hey! This is my husband! Mine!" And so she had no less then five babies to prove that point. Anyway, guess which kids she likes better? I'm a minority in my own house. It's maddening! Really though, you should see our family portraits. There's me Dad and Step-Mum and Silas and Judith and Pearl and Felix and Ophelia all tall, thin, with tame blond hair, small blue eyes, and smiling. Then there I am. Square shoulders, sawn-neck, huge brown eyes, thick brown hair that is absolutely wild, and a bit on the short side, a bit on the chubby side, too. I stick out like a sore thumb. Obviously. Actually, most people don't find the picture quite as funny as I do. They thing it's strange, and then they get all sympathetic, like I'm psychologically scarred because of the environment I was brought up in. I probably am. But I still don't want pity for it. Pity is the absolutely lamest thing mankind ever invented. There's no good use for it and it annoys people. Don't teach a pig how to sing -it wastes your time and it annoys the pig. That's a phrase I've barrowed form me granddad. He's the only cool grown-up that exists in the arena of my family -apart from me, of course. The Beast says he's off his rocker and Dad nods and agrees with her because she's his wife and he doesn't want to contradict her, but I think granddad's cool. My grandmamma isn't though. She pities me. Not because of I'm forced to live with the Beast, that conflict is beyond her comprehension. She has it in her head that I should be ashamed because of the way I was conceived. I know she's ashamed about it. I think, though, that she'd afraid of me. Or maybe she's just scared of what I represent. Anyway, I didn't invite Ginny to my house for summer holidays and she didn't extend any such invitation to me. She wrote and said she was going to the Quiddich World Cup with her brothers and Harry, and I wrote back saying that was great and I hoped she had a great time. I asked my Dad if I could get a ticket somehow over dinner one night. The Beast stepped in before he could answer. She said no. The Beast is damn bossy. ***
I walked into the Gryffindor Common room after a particularly long session of Divination. Of all the pointless classes, Divination is the pits. Anyone can predict the future the way she does. Watch I'll show you. You're gonna die. See? It will happen eventually, I promise. But why does Professor Trelawney always have to go on and on about it? She's so bloody gory. She keeps picking on Ginny, telling her that the grim is after her and a bunch of other nonsense. Denise and Margot giggle, and the boys roll their eyes, and Ginny turns white. And I sat in there, annoyed, thinking: Does Ginny actually believe that prat? And so I ended up saying something stupid and Bug-Eyes (as I call Professor Trelawney) starts picking on me. Life really is fair. Not. Anyway, Bug-Eyes, in addition to predicating my demise no less than ten billion times in class, felt that I needed to spent quality time with her in detention, so I had to stay after class to arrange it. Fun. I just can't wait for an evening with Bug-eyes! When I get to the common room Ginny is sitting at a table, reading of all horrid things to do, sitting right across Hermione Granger, the biggest nerd-bookworm ever to be born, who was also reading. Ginny's brother Ron was sitting next to Ginny and Harry Potter was sitting across from him, next to Bookworm. Lucky me, the table was for six. There was plenty of room for me to sit down too. In the past, Ginny's had the unfortunate habit of filling the last seat at tables for four, leaving no room for me. I've been forced to spend the night with Colin, Benedict, Russell, Mark, and Nathaniel (the male Gryffindor fourth-years) than I can count. Not necessarily a bad thing, mind you, because old Benedict can really be a bunch of fun, until. never mind. Oh, fine, I'll tell you. It's rather embarrassing. You see I had this slight.well, when I was a stupid third year I was in love with Benedict Gould. Not anymore, not now, but back then. And, of course, he sees me as a friend, one of the guys. He confides in me that he's discovered his true love: Ginny. Yes, the only guy I've ever been in love with is in love with my best friend. And, to make the matter worse, she's completely clueless. Blind. After I got over the initial shock of it all (it's a bit traumatic for a girl, finding out the boy she loves is in love with her blind best friend), I started operation get Ben and Ginny to Hook Up and Start Snogging Already! So far, that mission had been a complete failure. But I've figured out why: Ginny doesn't know how too loosen up. I mean, Benedict genuinely cares about her and respects her and listens to what she says, but he's a guy and he does want to have fun. Whenever he makes a move -he'll touch her arm or shoulder, wink at her, or (less gentlemanly) admire her cleavage (yes, Ginny Weasley has breasts) -Ginny runs in the other direction. And it's not like she doesn't want to do those sort of womanly things. When she was still hopelessly in love with Harry she'd tell me about her fantasies and they were in no way G-rated. I wonder how Harry would react if her knew about the things she told me. Or, ever better, how Ron would take it. Hero and Hot-stick (Harry is Hero, of course, but don't even ask why I can Ron Hot-stick, because he'd mega hot and tall, like a tree or a stick.but don't tell Ginny I said so) strike me as reasonable people, but they'd definitely have volatile reactions to little Ginny's not so innocent mind. Hero would be embarrassed as hell. And Hot-stick.well people tell me that I swear.Hmm. While Hermione and Ginny read, Hero and Hot-stick played chess. I hate chess. "Hey, Ginny," I said as I sat down next to her. I decided that, for the sake of fitting in with Bookworm who Ginny was so keen on emulating, I'd read stuff too. I had a very firm grip on my transfiguration book. It's a cool subject, and McGonagall's my favorite professor. "Hey, Tori," she said. "When's the detention?" "Tomorrow at eight," I muttered. "Oh," Ginny said sweetly. She looked more nervous than usual, and I didn't understand. Hermione put her book down and flashed a warm smile my way. Hero and Hot-stick were look at me, too. Hot-stick's eyes were transfixed on my breasts. Yuck. I mean, he'd cute and all, but I wouldn't date him even if you paid me a million gallons. Well, maybe if it was a million gallons. But, not for anything less, mind you. "Hello," Hot-stick said, extending his hand. "I'm Ron. Ginny's brother." "Of course," I said, taking his hand -gross -and letting go after less than a split second. "The hair gives it away."
"That's Hermione," Ron said, "And that's Harry. What's your name, again? I'm afraid I didn't quite catch it." "Tori," I told him, "Tori Rea Stanberry." Tori Rea was my mum's, my real mum's pick when it came to my name. If she hadn't died I would have been Tori Rea Morelli, a half English, half Italian witch, probably living in Canada. She had lived in Canada. There was a bizarre reason for it, but I don't remember what it was. I hate not knowing. It makes me hate myself so much, and that scares me. After Ron's introductions, things quieted down. I began to read, but that was difficult. I mean, what if my best friend's older brother had developed a crush on me? That would be far too complicated. Transfiguration is a great art, but it can be so bloody technical, and that's a bore. But I guess you learn more that way. What would we do without our professors? Well, there are some we could do without, McGonagall excluded. Bug- Eyes obviously could go without anyone shedding tears, Sprout can be annoying, Madam Pomfrey.now that's a woman who can get on everybody's nerves. I enjoy Snape, even if he does hate me for being a Gryffindor. But I'm insane so don't mind me.
AUTHOR: IrisArcadia
RATING: PG-13
PAIRING: You'll find out...
DISCLAIMER: I wish it were mine, but alas, it's not.
SUMMARY: Ginny Weasley is a very quiet girl, and despite the efforts
of a Gryffindor names Benedict Gould her love life is non-existent.
Tori Rea Stanberry (A.K.A. Ginny's best friend) does her best to
change that, and ends up in one of the most awkward situation of her
fourteen year life...
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Hope you enjoy. R/R! : )
Bug-Eyes, Boys, and My Friend Ginny Weasley
Chapter One: Ginny Weasley really needs to lighten up
Ginny Weasley really needs to lighten up. I mean she's always so tense. I swear, if someone stuck a coal up the girl's arse it would turn into a bloody diamond. I love her, of course. She's my best friend. But bloody hell someone needs to teach that child how to have fun. "It's not her fault that she'd always so anxious," said Denise Atherton when we were in the loo talking about it. "I mean, we should applaud her -surviving fourteen years with just brothers for company! Not just brother -Fred and George Weasley! With their stupid pranks and cream canaries! I'd have gone mad!" "Don't be so sympathetic," I muttered savagely. What can I say: Years of living with Mr. I-Still-Shag-Like-A-Bachelor and the Beast (A.K.A. my dad and step-mum) have not molded me into a model person. "Ginny doesn't need sympathy." "Well she doesn't need to be attacked either," Denise pointed out harshly. "Your rather fond of doing that, you know. I really should tell Ginny to stop calling you her best friend." "I'm not attacking Ginny," I muttered impatiently. Denise was what Professor Snape would call a dunderhead, a wet dunderhead at that. Didn't she understand anything? "I'm looking out for Ginny. I don't want to watch her waste her life. She should be enjoying herself." "Right," Denise muttered with a hint of sarcasm in her tone. Who knew that she had that kind of wit? "And you're the party queen." I'm overestimated her. She doesn't have wit, none at all. "I have some bloody fun when I want to," I said quickly. Denise threw me a 'tut-tut' look. "Stop swearing," she chided. "Bloody. Bloody, bloody, bloody hell!" "Tori!" she squealed. "Stop it. You know that I don't appreciate swearing. It's hardly proper." "Most things aren't proper, Denny," I said. Denise rolled her eyes. "Don't call me, Denny. Honestly, Tori, you're like a child. Must I constantly reprimand you? How long are you going to be caught in this selfish rampage?" "Till I bloody keel over and die." Now I was becoming very impatient. "Look, do you want to help me or not?" "Help you what?" "Help me help Ginny." As if she could be thicker. "I don't want her to spent the rest of her life sitting on the side lines, ringing her hands in anxiety over her crush and studies and her bloody brothers. I want her to have fun." "No you don't," Denise accused. She was getting cross, which didn't make her attractive. Denise's complexion was very.red. When she was angry she took on the appearance of a walking tomato. "You're the most selfish prat I've ever met, Tori. You don't want anything for anyone but you. What you're planning.you want to mold Ginny into you, and that would be simply horrid. I mean -look at you! You're actions! You're a psychotic, sadistic monster!" I was liking Denise less and less by the second. Fortunately, I remained calm. "Naturally," I said, "but what does that make you, a prude?" Denise was simply taken aback. I smiled my best friendly smile and walked away. Please enigmatic-omniscient-force-of-the-universe, I prayed as I walked out of the room, don't let Ginny be mad about this. Because, if she is then.. Well, I have no friends. ***
How can I explain this? There are four girls in currently attending Hogwarts who are fourth year Gryffindors: Denise Atherton, Margot Neilson, Ginny Weasley, and me. Denise and Margot got along right away, of course, because they're both wet prudes. Ginny was too busy being shy to make friends with anyone except her stupid black notebook -and we all know how that turned out. As for me.well, who cares about my excuse? Either way, I was not the most social person first year. But during second year Ginny and I bonded you might say. She's a bit needy and annoying, but she grew on me. I'm rather fond of my nervous chum. And she'd never demanded any answers from me, unlike my two other roommates. When you come right down to it, Ginny is my best friend. In fact, I almost invited her to spend a week at my house over the summer, but then I remembered that the Beast still lived there and I instantly abandoned that thought. Despite Denise's accusation, I am in no way sadistic. Now had I actually invited someone into my step-mum's lair, then I would have been sadistic, thank you. My step-mum hate's me. And, I suppose that, in her mind anyway, she had valid reason. She's my dad's proper wife and everything. I'm the child an affair he had with his mistress (one of them). It's a very long story, and I see no need to go into details. My mum's dead. So, anyway, after I was born the Beast felt the need to say: "Hey! This is my husband! Mine!" And so she had no less then five babies to prove that point. Anyway, guess which kids she likes better? I'm a minority in my own house. It's maddening! Really though, you should see our family portraits. There's me Dad and Step-Mum and Silas and Judith and Pearl and Felix and Ophelia all tall, thin, with tame blond hair, small blue eyes, and smiling. Then there I am. Square shoulders, sawn-neck, huge brown eyes, thick brown hair that is absolutely wild, and a bit on the short side, a bit on the chubby side, too. I stick out like a sore thumb. Obviously. Actually, most people don't find the picture quite as funny as I do. They thing it's strange, and then they get all sympathetic, like I'm psychologically scarred because of the environment I was brought up in. I probably am. But I still don't want pity for it. Pity is the absolutely lamest thing mankind ever invented. There's no good use for it and it annoys people. Don't teach a pig how to sing -it wastes your time and it annoys the pig. That's a phrase I've barrowed form me granddad. He's the only cool grown-up that exists in the arena of my family -apart from me, of course. The Beast says he's off his rocker and Dad nods and agrees with her because she's his wife and he doesn't want to contradict her, but I think granddad's cool. My grandmamma isn't though. She pities me. Not because of I'm forced to live with the Beast, that conflict is beyond her comprehension. She has it in her head that I should be ashamed because of the way I was conceived. I know she's ashamed about it. I think, though, that she'd afraid of me. Or maybe she's just scared of what I represent. Anyway, I didn't invite Ginny to my house for summer holidays and she didn't extend any such invitation to me. She wrote and said she was going to the Quiddich World Cup with her brothers and Harry, and I wrote back saying that was great and I hoped she had a great time. I asked my Dad if I could get a ticket somehow over dinner one night. The Beast stepped in before he could answer. She said no. The Beast is damn bossy. ***
I walked into the Gryffindor Common room after a particularly long session of Divination. Of all the pointless classes, Divination is the pits. Anyone can predict the future the way she does. Watch I'll show you. You're gonna die. See? It will happen eventually, I promise. But why does Professor Trelawney always have to go on and on about it? She's so bloody gory. She keeps picking on Ginny, telling her that the grim is after her and a bunch of other nonsense. Denise and Margot giggle, and the boys roll their eyes, and Ginny turns white. And I sat in there, annoyed, thinking: Does Ginny actually believe that prat? And so I ended up saying something stupid and Bug-Eyes (as I call Professor Trelawney) starts picking on me. Life really is fair. Not. Anyway, Bug-Eyes, in addition to predicating my demise no less than ten billion times in class, felt that I needed to spent quality time with her in detention, so I had to stay after class to arrange it. Fun. I just can't wait for an evening with Bug-eyes! When I get to the common room Ginny is sitting at a table, reading of all horrid things to do, sitting right across Hermione Granger, the biggest nerd-bookworm ever to be born, who was also reading. Ginny's brother Ron was sitting next to Ginny and Harry Potter was sitting across from him, next to Bookworm. Lucky me, the table was for six. There was plenty of room for me to sit down too. In the past, Ginny's had the unfortunate habit of filling the last seat at tables for four, leaving no room for me. I've been forced to spend the night with Colin, Benedict, Russell, Mark, and Nathaniel (the male Gryffindor fourth-years) than I can count. Not necessarily a bad thing, mind you, because old Benedict can really be a bunch of fun, until. never mind. Oh, fine, I'll tell you. It's rather embarrassing. You see I had this slight.well, when I was a stupid third year I was in love with Benedict Gould. Not anymore, not now, but back then. And, of course, he sees me as a friend, one of the guys. He confides in me that he's discovered his true love: Ginny. Yes, the only guy I've ever been in love with is in love with my best friend. And, to make the matter worse, she's completely clueless. Blind. After I got over the initial shock of it all (it's a bit traumatic for a girl, finding out the boy she loves is in love with her blind best friend), I started operation get Ben and Ginny to Hook Up and Start Snogging Already! So far, that mission had been a complete failure. But I've figured out why: Ginny doesn't know how too loosen up. I mean, Benedict genuinely cares about her and respects her and listens to what she says, but he's a guy and he does want to have fun. Whenever he makes a move -he'll touch her arm or shoulder, wink at her, or (less gentlemanly) admire her cleavage (yes, Ginny Weasley has breasts) -Ginny runs in the other direction. And it's not like she doesn't want to do those sort of womanly things. When she was still hopelessly in love with Harry she'd tell me about her fantasies and they were in no way G-rated. I wonder how Harry would react if her knew about the things she told me. Or, ever better, how Ron would take it. Hero and Hot-stick (Harry is Hero, of course, but don't even ask why I can Ron Hot-stick, because he'd mega hot and tall, like a tree or a stick.but don't tell Ginny I said so) strike me as reasonable people, but they'd definitely have volatile reactions to little Ginny's not so innocent mind. Hero would be embarrassed as hell. And Hot-stick.well people tell me that I swear.Hmm. While Hermione and Ginny read, Hero and Hot-stick played chess. I hate chess. "Hey, Ginny," I said as I sat down next to her. I decided that, for the sake of fitting in with Bookworm who Ginny was so keen on emulating, I'd read stuff too. I had a very firm grip on my transfiguration book. It's a cool subject, and McGonagall's my favorite professor. "Hey, Tori," she said. "When's the detention?" "Tomorrow at eight," I muttered. "Oh," Ginny said sweetly. She looked more nervous than usual, and I didn't understand. Hermione put her book down and flashed a warm smile my way. Hero and Hot-stick were look at me, too. Hot-stick's eyes were transfixed on my breasts. Yuck. I mean, he'd cute and all, but I wouldn't date him even if you paid me a million gallons. Well, maybe if it was a million gallons. But, not for anything less, mind you. "Hello," Hot-stick said, extending his hand. "I'm Ron. Ginny's brother." "Of course," I said, taking his hand -gross -and letting go after less than a split second. "The hair gives it away."
"That's Hermione," Ron said, "And that's Harry. What's your name, again? I'm afraid I didn't quite catch it." "Tori," I told him, "Tori Rea Stanberry." Tori Rea was my mum's, my real mum's pick when it came to my name. If she hadn't died I would have been Tori Rea Morelli, a half English, half Italian witch, probably living in Canada. She had lived in Canada. There was a bizarre reason for it, but I don't remember what it was. I hate not knowing. It makes me hate myself so much, and that scares me. After Ron's introductions, things quieted down. I began to read, but that was difficult. I mean, what if my best friend's older brother had developed a crush on me? That would be far too complicated. Transfiguration is a great art, but it can be so bloody technical, and that's a bore. But I guess you learn more that way. What would we do without our professors? Well, there are some we could do without, McGonagall excluded. Bug- Eyes obviously could go without anyone shedding tears, Sprout can be annoying, Madam Pomfrey.now that's a woman who can get on everybody's nerves. I enjoy Snape, even if he does hate me for being a Gryffindor. But I'm insane so don't mind me.