Saturday morning at the Weasleys' was not going well for Ginny.

She rose very, very early, much to her distaste. And what was even more disgusting, to her, was that as much as she tried, she couldn't go back to sleep.

So poor Ginny had to get out of bed at six thirty a.m. on a Saturday. So what? you ask. Well, according to Section IV, Clause 3, tradition at the Weasleys' dictated that, "If, on a Saturday, thou shalt by chance waketh up the most earliest, thou shalt cooketh the morning meal for thy family and any guests that happen to be a-visiting."

Ouch.

Ginny sighed and jammed on her slippery slippers that were extra slippery this morning, and the result was that poor Ginny slipped and fell on the floor when she tried to get out of bed. What was even worse, though, was that she fell out on the wrong side of the bed, which meant that there was no rug to even partially save her rear-end from destruction. Instead, she hit the wood floor with a loud crash and even louder groan, which caused the ghoul to wake up and start hitting the pipes in the attic.

Lovely, our heroine thought. Simply fantastic.

Of course, no one woke up and asked if she was okay, because this was a terrible morning and terrible mornings don't allow even a shred of good to interrupt them.

Ginny experimentally groaned again, just to see if anyone (a.k.a. Harry, who was staying with them until school started) would come rescue her.

Of course not.

So Ginny continued on her destructive way to the bathroom, accidentally dragging her blanket with her. Ginny didn't know that her journey to the bathroom was marked by destruction, but that was because her blanket muffled the sounds of the falling vases, picture frames, and rickety old chests with vases and picture frames loaded on them.

Oh, well. What Ginny doesn't know won't hurt her.

Yawning, Ginny stumbled into the bathroom, grabbed her toothbrush, and started to rub it furiously against her teeth. For some reason, though, it felt kind of odd. Ginny checked her toothbrush.

Oh, right, she thought. Toothpaste.

But there was no toothpaste in the bathroom.

"Oh dear," mumbled Ginny. "Am I sure that there is no toothpaste in here?"

She looked around her. Oh, there it was! Floating right in front of her eyes! Ginny made a vague attempt to grab it. The toothpaste dodged. She tried again, again, to no avail. By now her weariness was starting to disappear, and her eyesight was slowly arriving to its normal 20/20 vision. The toothpaste was still zooming around her face, but now it was humming a strange song. It was sounded like this: "Giiiiiinnnnnyyyyy….GIIIIIIInnnnnyyyyy…."

Why in Merlin's name was the toothpaste saying her name?

Maybe because it wasn't the toothpaste.

Maybe there was a person who was making the toothpaste move, with a wand or some other sort of device!

It was calling to her.

Ginny smiled rather insanely. This was her destiny! She had to find the toothpaste enchanter before it was too late!

There was only one way to do that. She had to grab the toothpaste.

Ginny swung her arm out blindly, attempting to grab the toothpaste, but missed and hit something soft and…kind of mushy.

"Ow," it said, in a vaguely familiar voice.

"What are you?" croaked Ginny, her fingers feeling and mushing the Thing.

"Imff Hurmvey," it said, sounding rather restrained. "Moofve yer haunfd!"

"What?" asked Ginny, moving her hand away. (The Thing was starting to feel kind of wet.)

"Thank Merlin," said the Thing, still in its irritatingly familiar voice.

Something clicked in Ginny's brain. A connection was forged between the voice and the toothpaste!

Oh no.

That was Harry's voice?

Oh please, say it isn't so! groaned Ginny internally.

She rubbed her eyes vigorously, and stared at the bright green eyes a few inches above her.

"No, no, no, no, no, no no, no," Ginny said, still staring. "No, no, no, no, no, no, no..."

The Thing-no, Harry-laughed.

"Was I really mushing up your face?" Ginny whispered.

Harry nodded, still grinning.

"Oh crap."

Pause.

"Why are you smiling?" Ginny asked suspiciously, her voice losing that just-awakened croak.

"Because you had toothpaste on your brush! You just grabbed Ron's toothbrush and saw that he had no toothpaste on his brush!" Harry was laughing madly now. "I was watching you the entire time!"

"What! Then why don't I have toothpaste in my mouth?"

"Because," Harry gasped, "You washed it out!"

I did? Ginny thought.

"I did?" Ginny asked.

Harry nodded.

"Uhhhnnnn," Ginny groaned, and started hitting her head against the wall.

Harry snorted.

Wait.

"How long have you been watching me?" Ginny asked.

"Since you got up," Harry replied unconcernedly.

"Meaning since I fell out of bed?" Ginny was starting to get excited.

"Yep," said Harry, grinning. "That was funny."

"Shut up. So you were awake before me."

"Six o' clock," Harry nodded.

"Do you know what Section IV Clause 6 of Weasley tradition states?"

"Um, no?"

Ginny wrinkled her nose. "It says, 'If, on a Saturday, a guest who is a close friend of the Weasley family or of a Weasley, and he shalt waketh up most earliest, then he shalt cooketh the morning meal for the Weasley family and anyone else who is a-visiting.'"

"Right."

"So?" Ginny prompted.

"What?"

"Duh."

"Now?"

"When else?"

"Why?" Harry groaned.

"Because." Ginny grinned evilly.

"No."

"Oh?"

"Yeah."

Harry smiled.

Ginny made a face at him.

"I'll have to chase you for this, Potter."

"I know, Weasley."

Ginny took a step towards him. Harry didn't move. Ginny took a flying leap towards Harry. He dodged out of the bathroom.

The chase had begun.

Ginny slid down the banister after Harry, narrowly missing a portrait of old Uncle Alfred.

"Watch it!" the portrait squeaked. Neither Harry nor Ginny paid any attention to it.

The chase continued through the kitchen twice, over the living room furniture and up the stairs before Ginny finally tackled Harry outside Ron's bedroom door.

"Oomph," Harry said to Ginny, who landed on top of him.

She grinned evilly. "I got you, Harry Potter. Now you must cook breakfast for all of us! Rejoice! Rejoice! I will not be shoved into the frying pan today!"

"Shoved into the frying pan?"

"Don't ask."

"I won't."

Ginny grinned.

Harry smiled.

Those green eyes were getting closer, and closer, and closer.

I never saw the bits of orange in them before, Ginny thought vaguely, before her eyes closed and her thinking shut down completely.

But no, it didn't last long.

"GINNY! HARRY!" came a shout.

Oh dear.

Ginny cringed and looked up. It was Ron. This was not good. This was not good at all.

"Um, good morning?" she tried.

"Can I propose a piece of advice?" whispered Harry.

"Yeah," Ginny said, keeping an eye on the dangerously red Ron.

"I think we should run."

"Yeah, me too."

"So let's GO!" yelled Harry, grabbing Ginny's hand and towing her away from Ron, who just pounced. "Run, Ginny! Run for your love-life!"

"What do you think I'm doing!" panted Ginny, running alongside Harry after they burst out of the back door.

"Er, you're right," Harry said breathlessly back. "So where are we going?"

"Follow me," said Ginny, and off she ran, putting on a strong spurt of speed. They raced away, all the way to a large tree. Ginny shimmied up the trunk in no time.

Harry paused.

"Um, Ginny," he called to her. "How do I get up there?"

Ginny looked down from the high cradle she was sitting in.

"Just climb!" she yelled. "Ron's gaining on us!"

Harry looked behind him. His eyes widened. What he saw was not one Weasley, but all the sons running as if Molly Weasley was after them. He took one look at them and one look at Ginny and scrabbled his way up the tree. It was a very messy climb, but he made it anyway.

"I knew you could do it if you had the proper incentive," Ginny said.

"Hmph," said Harry, and kissed her.

Maybe the morning wasn't so terrible after all.

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