The Good, the Bad and the Downright Gorgeous.

Ginny, having recently completed a strangely uneventful conversation with Harry, paused in an empty hallway to gather her thoughts. To be honest, if he could leave her that breathless with just a conversation, she couldn't wait to find out what sort of side-effects she might acquire from something of the more in-your-face variety.

True, all was good and well in the world of Miss Regina Weasley, yet she couldn't quite put her finger on what it was exactly that was bothering her. Maybe there was some kind of inner conflict going on inside her. Maybe she knew she'd forgotten something but couldn't quite remember what it was. And maybe she was craving a chocolate chip cookie, but she quickly dismissed that due to her other craving.

Which brings us back to the original suspect cause of uneasiness.

Now, if we're getting too deeply into the depths of this young girl's mind, feel free to leave at any moment. For what shall be discovered in barely more than a minute can, and will, become slightly disturbing. Slightly, of course, being a 'slight' understatement.

The problem with Regina, you see, was that she was torn between your typical fairytale decisions – did she really like this guy enough to make a fool out of herself, just for the chance of getting into those Quidditch pants of his? (This is, of course, allowing for the fact that Ginny did not live in a fairytale, and therefore could not construct her dilemmas around a fairytale situation)

As always, there was a problem with the popularity of said Quidditch pants. Each and every girl in the school was forming quite some line for their shot at a ride on his broomstick, and she could just picture Harry standing there, her brother's Beater's bat in one hand, holding them at bay with a few wild swings. Being the gentleman that he was, he never hit home of course, so the fangirls progressed, then shrank back like waves, squealing and squeaking like dolphins in the surf.

She shuddered at the thought, but quickly perked up at the mental image of Harry in the surf. Sun … sand … Harry … what more could a girl ask for?

Apart from contraceptives, you mean?

Ginny gasped, backing hard into the torch bracket behind her and yelping as it pushed into her back. She couldn't have just thought that! Even after being brought up in a household with six brothers, there was no way that could have originated from her grey matter.

Of course it didn't, honey. It takes work to be like me. A lot of work. A lot of very hard work. And a lot of working with very hard things.

"What?"

Oh, never mind. I'll tell you when you're older.

Ginny paused for a moment. This wasn't right. Voices don't just come from nowhere, even in the wizarding world. She wasn't quite sure if this little entity even had a brain, let alone trying to figure out where it kept it.

I heard that!!

Oh bravo, sweetie! Full marks for flair. Extra credit for truth.

I think I'll just ignore the fact that I heard that.

Good plan.

Ginny was not accustomed to hearing voices, let alone ones that seemed to be bickering incessantly. A glance both ways down the hallways assured her that yes, she was alone. So where were these voices coming from?

Right here!

She looked behind her, as the voices finally took form and appeared to come from that direction. Her eyes stumbled across two eight-inch figures, lounging idly on the torch bracket. They smiled up at her.

Ooh, she's noticed me!!

The slightly taller of the two piped up once more, leaping to its feet to wave with an air of extreme excitement. Her brown hair was pulled back in two braids, a shade that exactly set

off the vibrant red of what appeared to be a red cat suit. That is to say, if cats had tails almost identical to those of a dragon.

Of course she's bloody well noticed you. It's kind of hard not to when you constantly jibber away like that.

The second figure was shorter, with reasonably short red hair. She wore this out, and the ends barely brushed the sleeves of her frosted emerald green gown. A gown which most parents would have scowled, and most boys stared, at. She adjusted the glowing ring resting several millimetres above her head, grinning up at her warmly.

Ignore her. She has no idea. Honey, I'm here to help you. You'll soon learn she's here to hinder.

The taller one stuck out her tongue and flopped back down on the edge of the torch bracket, absentmindedly swinging her tail back and forth, humming a jazzy tune to herself. The one in the green dress stepped forward onto Ginny's outstretched hand, making her way to rest on her left shoulder.

Now, let's get started.

"Started on what?"

Ginny was, to put it mildly, slightly overwhelmed by this. With an air (air, of course, being completely transparent) of obliviousness, she stared straight back at the other red-head and raised her eyebrows. One minute eyebrow twitched back as a reply, dragging the corner of a mouth along with it.

Well, when a mummy loves a daddy very very much –

Oh shut up. That comes later.

Yes, yes, we don't want to get our 'hopes' up yet, do we?

Ginny's reaction could have been anticipated for roughly three weeks, two days, six hours, twelve minutes and seven seconds. That is, of course, taking into account factors such as weather fluctuations, wind direction and wether or not you are up to scratch in your basic innuendo.

She gasped.

Ignore her. For the love of God ignore her. Who knows, maybe one day she will disappear…

Ginny decided not to ask.

But back to the subject of Harry…

"When were we ever discussing Harry?!"

The brunette let out a sharp laugh at her statement. The shorter figure chuckled softly, smiling warmly up at her. They both gave her a look that distinctly said, "When were we not?"