Summer vacation was, and remains, my least favorite time of the year. Besides just being away from my friends, simply living a Muggle life is often much harder then living a magical one, even if you've grown up doing things the Muggle way. Things go slower, you have to do everything by hand, and when you get an unwanted blemish on your nose before a big date, you have to cover it up as best you can via Muggle makeup. These things all frustrated me for different reasons. But the number one reason I hated summer, was Robin. Robin was my cousin, a year older than me, who was almost my complete opposite. She knew about the magical world, having been present when my Hogwarts letter was delivered almost 6 years ago, but she detested magic and refused to have any part of me for weeks after I had returned from Hogwarts, instead choosing to let me "air myself out", as she put it. But, if I was ever to see my parents, I had to put up with Robin for a few weeks, before I could escape to my friend's house, The Burrow.
Despite what people seemed to think, I despised morning. The sun would rise, and it had always seemed a little too pleased with itself, oddly cheeky for a great big ball of gas. I loved staying up all hours of the night, going to bed right before the sun poked its highly obnoxious nose out. So when, one day, I was awakened by the sharp, shrill voice of Robin, shrieking something about there being boys but nothing to wear, I was highly disgruntled. I sat up, rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, and attempted to focus on the tall, blonde tornado that was ripping its way through my closet, holding clothes up to herself and quickly discarding them on the floor.
"Wuz going on?" I whined, still sleepy, and not pleased with having to get up at an ungodly morning hour. In my opinion, the noon hours were much more welcoming to awake to.
"Shhh!" she hissed at me, peeking out my front window, and then running back to my closet, finally settling on a small pink cami and a black pair of shorts that had fit me comfortably when I was 12. She quickly exchanged her clothing for mine and left hers on a pile on my floor. She went back to the window and slowly drew back the curtain. I got out of my bed and stood amidst the pile of clothes that had been discarded. I picked up a shoe and threw it at the back of her head. I missed and it landed on the desk next to her. She shrieked and then hissed at me to be quiet.
"Robin," I began politely, as if I hadn't just tried to accost her with a shoe, "What the bloody hell, are you doing in my room?" As I said, I wasn't at my most polite in the mornings.
"There are boys." She answered. "Cute boys! And they're just pacing in front of the house. Both of them!" She sounded much too excited. I didn't find this an adequate reason to wake me up.
"I suppose they're here to see me." She announced.
I grumbled. I should still be asleep.
"They can't be here for Aunt Jean or Uncle Henry, and as cute as they are, they certainly aren't here for you..." she deducted.
That got my attention.
"Why wouldn't they be here for me?" I asked loudly. I shoved her aside to peek out the window. Indeed, two boys were pacing in front of my house, both wearing hats that covered their faces.
"You can't see their faces." I pointed out. "How do you know they're cute?"
She looked at me as if I was the dumbest person on the face of the Earth.
"You don't need to see their faces to know they're stunning." She scoffed.
I eyed her, confused, but not wanting to admit it.
She rolled her eyes, "All you need to see is their arses." She giggled and looked at me. She could see that I still didn't understand.
"Well you can tell they're quite fit, can't you?"
I looked down at the boys again. I suppose they were fairly fit.
"I'm going to go say hello, maybe invite them in." She said, giggling. She turned out of my room and trampled down the stairs. I ran after her, hoping to see her fail in her attempts to seduce the two boys.
Robin opened the door a crack, and then, obviously having gained the boys attention, opened it wider. "Can I help you?" she asked in a simpering voice.
"Erm...yes." came a deep voice, that I immediately recognized.
"Is Hermione here?" came another voice, a voice that always accompanied the first voice.
But they couldn't be here. They couldn't be the cute boys that were pacing my house. Fred and George Weasley were not outside my house!