The Woes of Ginny Weasley
Day One
Disclaimer: As always, I own nothing, and I am still desperately afraid of Jell-O…
Dear Diary,
Somehow, I have managed to survive the first full day of the Weasley Christmas. I spent the entire weekend helping Mum clean the house, then decorate the house, the redecorate the house. Three times. What's wrong with her! HOW MANY TIMES DOES A PERSON HAVE TO REDECORATE A HOUSE! Okay, I'm calm. I am a calm lake on a clear summer's day. (a/n: props to whoever can tell me what that line is from!) Damn it. I can't take much more of this…
Frustratingly yours,
Ginny
I hate alarm clocks. I've never liked them. The sole purpose of an alarm clock is to wake a sleeping person (me) from happy dreams with fuzzy rabbits, rainbows, and pretty ponies. And Harry. Alarm Clocks, especially mine, are just plain awful. They start out to be relatively quiet, but if you don't turn them off immediately, they just get louder. And louder. AND LOUDER! Well, today, my evil noisemaker woke me up at 6 o'clock in the morning. So, I did what any normal human being would do: I turned it off, and went back to bed. However, the moment I laid my head back down on my pillow, the stupid clock started yelling obscenities at me. I must remember to kill Fred and George.
So, if my morning didn't start off badly enough, by the time a made it down to the kitchen (at six thirty) Mum announced to everyone (me and dad) that our first guests would be arriving in an hour. Resistance was futile, and I ended up with the job as the official greeter. The first guest? Percy.
Somehow, I doubt that I'll ever be able to figure out the mind of that male, note that I refuse to call him a man. The git refused to acknowledge the family even existed until two years ago. His wife, Penelope made him invite us to their wedding. The family's most recent contact? Six months ago when their first child Emma was born. Of course, that doesn't mean Percy felt obligated to send us a picture. Bloody git.
Mum, however, had different ideas about Percy "finally being home".
"Oh! Percy!" I nearly gagged as she enveloped him in a strangling hug.
"I'm so glad you're here! Is this Emma? Penny! She looks just like you!..." As Mum continued to fawn over her new granddaughter, I edged away, out of the room.
"Ginny, dear. Where are you going? Aren't you excited to see your brother?" I swear that woman has eyes on the back of her head
"Yes, Mum! I just thought I'd go tell dad that Perce is here." Of course, It might take awhile to find him. I hope.
"Of course, of course" and she was back to admiring Emma. Good thing babies can take Mum's attention away from anything. I quickly slipped out of the room, out of the house, and towards the garden shed – nobody would find me here.
"Dad!"
"Ginny!"
"Dad! This is my hiding place! Find your own!" wow…. What a witty remark.
"Ginny Weasley! I am not hiding! I'm… er, that is…."
"Hiding." I smirked, It's always been funny catching parents doing something they don't want you to know about. "Just thought I'd let you know Percy's here, but, I guess you already knew."
"No, actually didn't."
"Then why are you hiding?"
"For the last time! I'm not hiding!" Then, in a mumble, "I'm avoiding your mother."
"Aha!"
" 'Aha!' what?"
"Avoiding and hiding are the same thing!" He didn't even bother with a reply. Ginny: 1, Dad: 0. "So, why exactly are you "avoiding" Mum?"
"Ginny, I'm your father! I have no need o explain myself to you." Now, he was trying to sound dignified.
"Dad, don't worry. Percy brought Emma." Dad attempted to hide a relieved sigh from me. I didn't exactly need to explain to him how babies seemed to calm Mum down. Or at least send her into a state of oblivion.
Dad and I made it back to the house to find that Mum was still cooing over her granddaughter. For the next hour, we all sat in the living room, Mum and Penny trying to fill the awkward silence. Percy was still mad at Dad for trying to make him do the right thing. Dad was still mad at Percy for walking out on the family. Mum had forgiven Percy, and was now mad at Dad for not following her example. I was mad at Mum for making me spend the weekend cleaning the house, mad at Percy for being a prat, and mad at Dad for…well…. I just needed a third person to be mad at, and he was the only other family member present. Poor Penny: She had no Idea what life would be like when she married Percy. Only Emma seemed content to gargle and point at invisible things that were apparently floating around the living room. I envy the young.
Finally, around 8.30 I heard the first stream of complaints.
"I still don't see why we couldn't just apparate into the house."
"Because it would be impolite" The two voices had obviously had this discussion before
"But its my house!"
"No, Ron, it's your parents, they just let you live there for seventeen years"
Bingo. I rushed to the door. "Ron! Hermione! Come in!" …and save me from Mum! Too late.
"Ronald! Hermione! I'm so glad you could come! I suppose I told you Percy was coming? Him and Penny are in the living room with Emma…. I'm sure you'll want to catch up—"
And that's about where I tuned her out. Maybe I'm selfish, but, I didn't really feel like sharing my favourite brother (well, when Bill's not around. Or Fred. Or George.) or his fiancée at the moment.
"Mum, I'm sure 'Mione and Ron will want to have a chat with Percy, but they must be incredibly tired from traveling (Mum gave me a look there, since they only lived just outside of Hogsmade) and I'm sure they'd like to know the sleeping arrangements" Before she could respond, I was pulling the two upstairs, with force I'd forgotten I had. I didn't stop until my door was shut and locked. Hermione looked appalled, and Ron looked as though he was trying remarkably hard not to laugh. Finally, after a moment,
"What was that about?"
"Erm… Just Mum being Mum."
Hermione looked completely confused. Ron looked at me with understanding, if not slightly amused understanding.
"But you can't possibly have been here that long…"
"Mione, I've been here all weekend."
"That's not so bad…"
Ron took it from there. "Honestly, 'Mione. Whenever Mum does her Christmas bash, one of us is summoned (I use the term loosely) home to help her prepare—"
That's where I cut him off. "Correction Ron, she brings home whichever one of us is 'currently unattached'. Meaning me." Hermione still looked confused, so I turned back to her, "You see, When Mum is preparing for a party, she goes all out. All the silver reappears, the house has to be spotless, and in the case of Christmas, the decorations have to be perfect. For everything to go the way she wants it, the whole thing takes hours."
"Oh."
"So," And then I was back to my jolly, bubbly self, "you can understand why I am using you and my brother for my own selfish purposes."
"Shut it Ginny, it's not that bad."
That was all I could take. I'd hardly gotten any sleep since Friday. I'd been spending the nighttime hours baking, cleaning, decorating, and rearranging until I was blue in the face. And finally, I had just spent the last hour entertaining my brother, who just happened to have a broom stick shoved up his ass. "Ron, when was the last time you helped with a holiday?"
"Erm," He turned to his future wife "Hermione, when was the last time I helped with decorating?" Must…control…temper…
Hermione gave him a patronizing look "Sixth year. And you had help."
I turned back to my brother. "And, you had the rest of us around doing the same thing?"
"So? It was still work" Now I was getting really mad.
"Ron. You baked Christmas Cookies. And ate half of them."
He sighed miserably "I know. I haven't been able to look at a gingerbread man since."
I glared.
"Oh, come off it Ginny. It can't be that bad." I blame it on the lack of sleep. Or Percy the Prick. Or Dad trying to take my hiding place. But whatever it was, I blew up.
"Not. That. Bad!" Okay, so I was probably overreacting, but give me a break. I had to let off steam. And who better than Ron to take it out on?
He apparently noticed the look on my face, and my tone of voice, because I seemed to shrink down three feet from his 6ft, 3in. "sorry?"
"Sorry!" Then I began my ranting. Oh, how I love to rant. I'm not quite sure what I said, but it was something about the "selfishness of my brother" or "you're so pig-headedly stupid, we should stick an apple in your mouth and roast you!". But I don't remember that much. By the time I finished my yelling, both Ron and Hermione were rather pale. Being a thespian at heart, I had to end this dramatically. I jumped out the window. Truthfully it probably wasn't the smartest idea, since I'm not exactly the most graceful person in the world. My foot caught on the very edge, causing me to somersault twice before landing on my backside. Thankfully, the snow was deep enough to prevent me from breaking anything.
I hadn't really planned on running away, it was have been childish. But of course, when one is angry, nothing goes as planned. So, I ran. By the time I stopped (I was sitting in some giant, old tree) I had regained control of my senses. My control told me this:
It was cold
I had no coat
therefore it was really cold
I was supposed to greeting guests
I wasn't
Mum would kill me
who cares?
I sat there in that Magnolia tree for about ten minutes weighing my options. I could sit there and sulk or I could go home and sulk. At least home was warm. I slowly climbed down, and began heading back towards the Burrow. I figured I needed a bit more time to calm down than apparating would allow. By the time I finally reached home, I was freezing. In the time I had been away, the entire family (minus the twins) had arrived, and Mum was so busy, she didn't even have a moment to consider flogging me with a wet noodle. I conjured up a giant mug of hot chocolate a crept up to my room, where to my annoyance Ron and Hermione were sitting, waiting for me.
"I wondered how long it would take you to run home" I was very tempted to jump back out the window at that comment. Or at least push Ron out one. However, I was tired and cold, so I settled for a "shove off, Ron". And Hermione glared, so that shut him up.
And that's where we sat for the next twenty minutes, just staring at each other, and then, came the explosion.