Chapter Two

"Knock, knock," George said cheerfully, rapping on the door frame. "May we come in?"

"If I said no, would it stop you?"

"Most certainly not; my asking was just a courtesy." She smiled wryly as they barged into her office. George dropped into the chair her boyfriend had just vacated, but Ron seemed ill-at-ease, prowling 'round the room, checking behind the door.

"And how's my favorite sister?" George crooned, putting his feet up. He's really laying on the honey, Ginny thought wryly, wondering if this was a bad sign or if he was just making up for Ron's considerable vinegar.

"I don't know," she said, keeping a close eye on Ron, "I haven't seen Percy in a while." George cackled appreciatively, but Ron didn't even crack a smile. He picked an ancient iron teapot from the early Ming Dynasty and looked inside it, and Ginny snorted. "Ron."

"What?" He looked up, appearing stricken, eyes big. She shook her head.

"He's not in the teapot."

His eyes grew even wider, this in a ghastly imitation of desperate innocence. "Who?"

George wisely intervened. "Well, now," he drawled, giving Ron a pointed look, "got any plans for tonight, Ginny?"

She narrowed her eyes. Maybe I could—"Yes. Lots of plans. All sorts of big, important plans."

"Well, cancel them. We're all going drinking."

She sighed. She could argue, but it would do no good, and in the extremely improbable event that she did get out of it, it would only delay the inevitable. "Fine, then," she said, rising from her seat. "Let me get my scarf and inform Hermione of what sort of flowers I want at my funeral and I'll be right with you."

A quick check-in with Hermione, and then she and George left Ron alone with his wife for a moment, going down to the cobbled street below. Ginny's breath turned to steam in the cold air, and she tightened her scarf, ugly plum and chunkily-knit by her mother. She looked up at George and asked, "Where are we going?"

"The Snake's Tooth."

Ginny made a face. The Snake's Tooth was one of several wizarding drinking establishments in the greater London area, and not the one that would be her first selection. The clientele was violent and boorish, the design of the interior was bizarre, and she suspected that the glasses there were never properly cleaned. Ginny was far from squeamish, but when the bottom of one's glass was coated in what looked like troll bogeys… "Ew. Why?"

"Because The Leaky Cauldron is too public and word might get back to Mum, and Charlie got banned from Limey's Manger last time. The Snake's Tooth is the next one down on the list." He glanced sideways at her. "You look worried."

"Well, I'm almost sure the apocalypse is pending. When was the last time we all went drinking?"

"You've only been of age for—" He paused, did some math in his head—"five years?"

"Yes, you're right, no time at all in the last few years to send me an owl—'hey, Ginny, what's up? Want to go to the pub with us?'"

There were very few forces on earth that could make George Weasley look sheepish. His little sister was one of them. She, along with Bill (and to a lesser extent, Charlie) was cut out of the same cloth as the twins, unlike Ron and Percy, and she had the distinction of being a sister and therefore somewhat more frightening than their formidable mother—she hadn't given birth to any of them, and so she had no qualms whatsoever about seriously injuring them. While only her worst tempers could keep her brothers from meddling with her just for the hell of it, they always thought twice about trampling carelessly on feelings that might or might not be bruised.

In consideration of those feelings now, George said carefully, "Well, you know how it is. Time gets away from you. But we're making up for it now, aren't we?"

"Are you?" she asked pointedly. "Considering the conversation I had with Mum last night, I'm afraid generosity might not be your motive."

His smile remained firmly in place, but his eyes grew rapidly wary. "Ah, perhaps we shouldn't talk about that just now," he said carefully. "Wait till we get some drinks in us, eh?"

"Whatever you say," she sighed, spotting Ron coming out of the building, "but I want it on record—I think this is a bad idea."

"Duly noted," George sang out cheerfully, clapping her on the shoulder as Ron joined them. "Let's go."

"Charlie and Bill are already at the pub?" she asked as they started out.

"Yes, and Percy says he'll meet us later. I should warn you—he doesn't intend to drink."

Ginny groaned aloud. Percy's story hadn't quite been that of the prodigal son—while he'd rejoined the family and forsaken the Ministry, his realization that he'd been a complete twat was not enough to change him from… well, a complete twat. He'd always been ambitious and sanctimonious, and his return to them hadn't exactly come with a complete personality change. While she loved him like she loved all her family, she dreaded his officiousness almost more than Ron's.

The Snake's Tooth was a small establishment, dingy and ramshackle on the outside, dark and firelit and labyrinthine on the inside. There were walls in the oddest places, meant to section the patrons off from one another, which struck Ginny as ominous.

She dismissed the thought as they located their other brothers, cloistered away in a roundabout booth far from the bar, which raised another red flag for Ginny—just why were they so set on keeping her separate from other patrons and staff? Did they really think she'd make such a terrific public scene?

Maybe they're just ashamed that I'm dating a Malfoy, she thought wryly, and though it manifested as a sarcastic aside, it quickly took hold as a legitimate reason. Partially due to that, she was scowling as she approached.

Bill and Charlie rose to dispense hugs and greetings, and Charlie chucked her under the chin. "Look at this sourpuss," he boomed. "Why the long face?"

Her scowl just deepened. "Why do you think?"

"Come on, brighten up," he coaxed her. "You get free drinks and you get to spend the whole night in the dazzling company of your brothers. What's not to like?"

She smiled unwillingly. "The smell of testosterone, for starters," she couldn't resist saying, and he laughed loudly and gestured for her to slide into the booth.

Which she realized was a mistake as brothers pushed in on either side, nudging her around to the very back center seat. The wall was at her back, and the heavy spool table was between her and escape. She was, effectively, trapped.

"First round," George said, pointing at Ron. "Firewhiskey. Go."

"Maybe," Bill said, looking carefully at his sister, "a butterbeer for her to start?"

Ginny wasn't in the habit of glaring at Bill, as she often found him the most sensible and down-to-earth of all her brothers, but the look she gave him now was absolutely poisonous. "If you'd ever troubled to go drinking with me before, you'd know I could drink any of you under the table. Firewhiskey, Ron."

"That sounded like a challenge," Charlie grinned as Ron stomped off to the bar.

Ginny looked at her burly brother, nine years her senior and twice her width, and swallowed. You're not afraid of anything, not even your incredible beast of a big brother, she reminded herself, and said, "It's a dare."

George grinned widely. "I get the distinct feeling that this night is long overdue."

"That's what I've been telling you," she said sulkily, unwinding her scarf from her neck and putting it on the bench beside her.

Ron returned with the firewhiskey, and they all bolted it down rapidly, all anxious on some level to bypass the awkward soberness with a little liquid courage. Charlie then expressed his belief that this was going to get them nowhere fast and left the booth, only to return quickly with a massive bottle of Odgen's Old for their consumption.

In the meantime, feeling resentful of the awkwardness and determined to shatter it, if not make her brothers feel it even more acutely, Ginny struck up a casual conversation with George.

"How's Angelina?"

He gave her a wry grin. "Not too pleased with me just now. I was trying to show her the faux-Ghoul charm I've been working on, and it turns out there's a few kinks I've yet to work out. Until the stink and the stains fade and the ghoul disappears, I'm banned from hers."

Ginny was laughing. "You didn't think after the jammy dodger fiasco, you might want to keep your products away from her while they're still in the testing phase?"

George grinned. "I didn't know they were still in the testing phase, did I?"

"She might have to get used to explosions and mess," Bill interjected. "I don't think they're going to stop anytime soon."

As they traded jibes, Ginny leaned back and watched George. She still worried about him, though perhaps not as much as in the first year. For the first year after Fred's death, George was like a man lost. For the first couple of months, Ginny worried that he would actually shut down the joke shop—he delegated responsibilities to employees and completely stopped inventing. After a while, though, he slowly began again, haltingly and without much initial success, but he was working, and in time he regained his feet.

In addition to returning to work, he ran into Angelina Johnson, bumping into her in Flourish and Blotts, where he followed her around teasing her for fifteen minutes before asking her out, and after paying him back by acting indecisive for a few minutes, she said yes. They were now engaged, and their wedding was scheduled to take place in late spring.

Ginny knew that Angelina had dated Fred for a while when they were in school and had remained close to him even after they split up, and sometimes she wondered if Angelina and George had initially built their relationship out of their mutual sense of loss and need for some connection to Fred. However it had started, though, it was working. Angelina was level-headed, both unfailingly logical and compassionate, and she was good for George. She didn't baby him, but when he needed it, she offered a listening ear, and when he needed space, she offered him that, too. In large part, Ginny credited her with George's recovery, such as it was. He still, Angelina told her, talked to Fred when he thought he was alone.

And times like now, as the conversation slid over to Bill and Fleur and his contributions slowed, his sadness showed through. He didn't smile so easily, and his eyes were more intent, more serious. He was alert, but sometimes, he seemed completely disconnected, and Ginny knew that was when he was at his saddest. She didn't think it would ever fully go away, and she didn't think anyone should expect it to.

In front of her eyes, though, George's face was shifting, taking on a predatory expression. Ginny stiffened and was immediately on her guard. When George got that look, someone was in for it. She followed his gaze, however, and when she saw that it had landed on Ron, she relaxed, smirking a little.

Ron should have been more careful, but he was so clearly fixed on the purpose of the night and so unwilling to allow his attention to be diverted from it, even for a second, that he had been brooding and sullen since they had picked Ginny up. There was no easier way to make oneself a target for George Weasley than to sulk. Under Ginny's amused gaze, he balled up a napkin and pitched it across the table, hitting Ron directly in the temple.

That got his little brother's attention. Ron looked up, his expression thunderous. "What?"

"What's wrong with you?" George asked lightly. "You look like you've been Spitsied."

Charlie guffawed, Ginny groaned, and Bill's mouth twitched a bit, as though he wanted to smile but was concerned that it might put Ron in an even worse mood. As children, young witches and wizards were obviously not able to use (or at least clearly direct) their magic, and so they, like their Muggle counterparts, were forced to be creative when it came to tormenting their siblings. Fred and George had risen admirably to the task with a game they called "Spitsy." It involved them screaming "Spitsy!" at a smaller sibling and then chasing them down. When they caught the sibling in question, one of the twins would hold the arms down and the other twin would sit on the stomach, hold his face over the tortured sibling's, and let a long line of spit hang from his mouth, slurping it back up seconds before it looked like it might drop. It was disgusting, and needless to say, they weren't always able to pull the spit back before it broke free and landed—splat—on the poor victim's face. The spit was bad enough when it did drop, but the psychological torture before that was unbearable.

Ginny and Percy (the latter of whom had been much smaller and weaker than the twins well into his teens) were common victims of this treatment, but Ron was the most frequently-targeted because he hated Spitsy so much. Fred and George were always out for a reaction, and Ron had always been the most emotional Weasley. Once, when he was nine and the twins had pinned him down, he had gone into such a rage that his dormant magic had kicked in and thrown both twins hard into walls on the opposite sides of the room—and in the process, the spit that had been dangling from Fred's mouth had fallen and landed square in Ron's eyes, so his emotions regarding the triumph were still incredibly mixed. Fred and George were fine, aside from well-deserved bruised bums, and they'd left Ron mostly alone for a full two days before their treatment of him resumed, business as usual.

The reminder of the childhood torture did little to put Ron in a better mood. If anything, his scowl deepened. "That's not funny," he said shortly.

"I don't know," Charlie said, his voice shaking with suppressed laughter, "it was pretty hilarious at the time—"

"What are you expecting?" Ron exploded suddenly. "You want me to be all sunny and cheerful when she's—"

"Oy," Bill interjected suddenly as Ginny's glare sharpened in preparation for battle, "do any of you remember Ginny's second Christmas?"

The interruption wasn't quite enough to dispel the sudden concentration of tension, but Bill had the advantage of being the eldest. He had grown up with the responsibility of six younger siblings on his shoulders and was well-suited to it—he was never as authoritative as their parents, which meant that none of the younger Weasleys ever really felt the need to rebel against him. He was the resident peacemaker and usually the voice of wisdom, less sanctimonious than Percy and a little more dependable than Charlie, whose general attitude towards brewing rows was let's poke it and see what happens. As a result, all of Bill's younger siblings listened when he spoke and generally went along with his decisions. Therefore, aside from glaring heatedly at one another for another few seconds, Ron and Ginny let the quarrel drop before it could really build up, turning their attention to him. They were helped along by Charlie, who poured each of them a new shot and put the drinks in their hands encouragingly.

"A bit," George jumped in gamely. "Mum put a stirring charm on her fruit cake batter and turned her back, so Fred and I put dirt in it."

"I remember that," laughed Charlie. "Aunt Lucretia ate some."

"So did Percy," George said with more than a touch of smugness.

"Poor Aunt Lucretia," grinned Bill. "She was trying so hard to be polite."

"I obviously don't remember," Ginny said shortly, still too displeased with Ron to go along with the warm reminiscence. Charlie poured her another shot, which she ignored for the time being, the memory of her last drink still fresh in her mind and the top of her esophagus. Firewhiskey was a lovely drink, but too many shots in rapid succession could leave one with a scorched throat.

"I only bring it up because I think it was the first real indicator that the twins might have a rival within the family," Bill said easily. "We were all sitting around the fire, getting ready to go to bed, when we realized that no one had seen you for about five minutes. We searched the house and found you in Percy's room. You were sitting happily on the floor, tearing pages out of his books."

Charlie bellowed with laughter. "That's right, and he was livid. He ran around the room fussing like an old hen, gathering up ripped pages and howling at her. Fred just made things worse, hoisting her up on his shoulders while he and George sang 'God Save the Queen.'"

Ginny couldn't help it; she started laughing. "I've never heard that story! Why didn't anyone tell me?"

Bill shrugged, smiling. "Slipped through the cracks, I guess. With all the things that happened while we were growing up, it's hard to remember who knows what."

"Poor Mum," sighed Ginny, still smiling. "She didn't deserve having to live with those two year after year until they finally got accepted and were shipped off—"

"Excuse you, Missy," George said, digging into her side with his long fingers and making her cut herself off with a yelp, "but I seem to recall you being quite the troublemaker yourself. If anything, you should be thanking us."

"Thanking you?"

"Mum was so distracted with our behavior all the time that she hardly noticed that you were just as bad."

"Oh, I think not!"

"Really? Who was the one who started stealing broomsticks out of the shed as soon as she could walk, resulting in a spectacularly broken leg at the age of three?"

"…um," Ginny said.

"Who got into Mum's medicine cabinet and drank an entire month's stash of calming draught, which literally induced catatonia in the party in question and nearly scared Mum to death?"

"It's not my fault it's the same color as blueberry juice; how was I to know it wouldn't be delicious?" Ginny protested weakly.

"Uh-huh, and who opened all of Percy's presents the night before his ninth birthday?"

Ginny sat up straight. "That was you and Fred."

"Oh." George frowned for a second. "Blimey, you're right."

"Anyway," Ginny said, sensing that she had gained an advantage, "why are we focusing on me? Ron was just as bad."

"Was not," Ron objected sullenly. "All I was trying to do was survive growing up around all you mental cases."

"Oh, so you were only trying to survive when you tried to get me to eat glumbumble dung when I was eight?"

Ron suddenly looked shifty. "Well… yeah, in a manner of speaking."

"In a manner of speaking?"

"Fred and George were holding my broomstick hostage! They said they'd give it back if I could get you to do it—"

"Oh, they did? Well, did you get it back?"

"No, because you didn't eat the bloody stuff!" bellowed Ron.

"Well, can you blame me?" she howled back.

"Whoa, now, we gave your broomstick back eventually," George interjected, placing a mockingly calming hand on Ron's arm. Ron jerked back, eyeing his brother balefully.

"Yeah, after smearing it in flobberworm mucus," he muttered.

"I think what we can take from this is that Ron was woefully mistreated as a child," Charlie said cheerfully. Ron's siblings all glanced at each other and pulled various expressions of agreement, and Ron scowled all the deeper, lurching forth to grab the bottle of firewhiskey and pouring a drink for everyone who lacked one.

"Well, look on the bright side, brother dear," George said, lifting his shot to Ron. "You got pretty damn tough, which served you well when you were saving the world from the greatest menace it has ever encountered."

"Oh, so now you're taking credit—"

"Not at all," George interjected smoothly. Normally, he would happily take the opportunity to antagonize his brother further, but the final battle was one of the only things George (understandably) never treated lightly. Ginny felt a pang at the reminder. George's knee-jerk reaction to pain of any sort was automatically to jest about whatever had caused it. His refusal to joke about the final battle was just a testament to how deeply he had been wounded and how clearly he still felt it—even his surefire defense failed in the face of his loss. "Just pointing out the bright side of your tormented childhood. Cheers."

"Cheers," echoed the others, and clinked their glasses against his before bolting down the contents. Ron looked unwillingly placated by this toast in his honor, made with only the slightest touch of sarcasm from George, and Ginny was glad—scowling like that had to be eating up his energy; it was time he stopped brooding.

But that's not likely to happen soon, she thought as Percy made a sudden appearance across the tavern, looking around confusedly for his siblings. Despite her awareness that his arrival meant her interrogation was nigh, she stifled a giggle as the twisted design of the pub got the better of him. He wandered in and out of her line of vision twice before she took pity on him, put her fingers to her lips, and gave a sharp whistle. He glanced sharply in her direction, looking thoroughly disapproving, an expression which only faded slightly when he realized who had whistled.

Ron brightened up a little as Percy pulled up a seat directly opposite Ginny. Percy was the easiest target in the family; things always went a little better for Ron when Percy was around. Additionally, now that the only remaining brother had arrived, they were free to proceed with the night's business.

She had been foolish to let her guard down, for as soon as Percy got seated and said his rather stiff hellos, Bill said again, "Well, then." As if it was some sort of signal, all of her brothers turned their heads and stared at her with a sort of unrehearsed synchronicity that, despite the fact that she was decidedly not afraid of her brothers, made gooseflesh rise on Ginny's skin, and she shrank back into her seat instinctively.

"So, Ginny," began Charlie casually.

"We stopped by Mum's earlier today—" said Bill.

"What, all of you at once?" Ginny muttered mutinously.

"—and she had some rather interesting news," he finished, ignoring her growing scowl with a stoicism that came from years of wheedling information out of his younger siblings that they'd rather not give.

"So," said George, blithely picking up the ball—he'd never been intimidated by anyone's fierce looks, let alone his sister's, so no problem there—"we organized this little outing because we desperately wanted to ask you—"

"—what the hell are you thinking?" bellowed Ron.

And here we go. Ginny pulled in a breath and held it, wiping the scowl from her face and forcing herself to look calmly at each of her brothers in turn. After a moment of this, she slowly released the air from her lungs and reached for the bottle of firewhiskey, pouring herself a new shot but not taking it just yet. Instead, she glanced up, looking again rapidly from brother to brother.

"I'm assuming this is about my current romantic relationship."

Ron crossed his arms over his chest so tightly that Ginny was surprised he didn't crack a rib. As George nodded with false enthusiasm, Ron muttered through gritted teeth, "What else do you think we'd be talking about?"

"Don't ask her that," Charlie said quickly. "I don't want to know any of her other dark secrets. This is bad enough."

Ginny sighed. Oh, well. It's not as though I didn't already let the kneazle out of the knapsack last night. Might as well own up to it. "Well, I suppose the first thing to do is to confirm it personally. I'm dating Draco Malfoy."

The reaction was immediate. Ron threw out a hand and hissed "Shhh," checking over his shoulder to see if anyone he knew was in the tavern; Percy immediately began droning on about political tactics and how perhaps she wasn't quite as adept at navigating her way among the established families of the wizarding world as she thought, maybe he could help. Charlie slumped in his seat, putting one huge hand over his face and moaning something incomprehensible, and George said loudly, "It's a plan, isn't it? An evil plan to get his money. Wow, Gin, I wasn't sure you had something so devious in you."

Only Bill said nothing, sitting back in his chair and regarding her inscrutably. Ginny glanced at him as she waited for the uproar to die down, hoping that despite the unlikelihood of it all, perhaps his lack of reaction meant she had a potential ally. More likely, he was being his diplomatic self, but a girl could dream.

She glanced across the table at Ron, who, it appeared, was filling his lungs so that he could start in her. That's a good indication that they're not planning on taking a break from their ranting anytime soon, she decided, and before he could get started, she leaned forward, placing her hand flat on the table.

"I want you all to listen to me," she said, speaking very, very quietly, almost whispering. It was a technique she'd developed after watching her mother shout and howl at the boys to no avail. By whispering, Ginny forced them to shut up if they wanted to hear what she had to say, and in this case, they were very interested in what she had to say—how else were they going to plan a counter argument? They behaved predictably, immediately going silent and fixing intent eyes on her. Ginny waited a beat to make sure she had their attention before going on.

"I was well aware of what was going to happen tonight when George and Ron picked me up. I came with them willingly enough because you are my brothers, and while I don't believe I owe you anything, I respect and love you all enough to tell you whatever you want to know. However," she said, giving Ron and George the evil eye as they made as if to speak up again, "I have a condition."

"Tell us, Ginny," said Charlie with false brightness, sounding as though he was having way too much fun with this whole ordeal, "what is your condition?"

She stared levelly at Percy. "I've had three shots. That makes me tipsy but not drunk, and I intend to be thoroughly drunk by the time this is over. However, I have no intention of letting anyone sit there and judging me for being drunk. Therefore, Percy, I expect you to match me for every drink from now on."

Percy opened his mouth to object, but she cut him off before he could even begin. "Consider yourself fortunate I'm not making you catch up to me before I start talking. You're a lightweight, so we'll forgive those first three, yeah?"

Percy pushed his glasses high on his nose, sniffed, and said, "I have no intention of drinking tonight."

Ginny leaned back and folded her arms over her chest. "Fine. Then I have no intention of saying a word."

George and Ron were on it immediately. George threw an arm around Percy's shoulders, jostling him fiercely and saying "Come onnnnn, take one for the team, Perce! Who knows? Maybe a few shots of firewhiskey will finally dislodge that wand from its position shoved so deeply up your arse—" while Ron, stonefaced, poured Percy a drink and placed it adamantly down in front of him. Percy, looking totally disgruntled, scowled at Ginny. Still slouched down, frowning stubbornly, she cocked a daring eyebrow at him.

Having his sister show him such blatant disrespect was apparently the final straw for Percy. He reached out almost automatically, grabbed the glass, and took the shot, though it took him two tries to get it down. His siblings, including Ginny, erupted in a howl of approval, beating their fists on the table as he coughed and sputtered, looking disgusted and reluctantly pleased all at once. It was well known that Percy almost never drank, especially after an incident at Ron and Hermione's wedding, where he drank entirely too much elderberry wine, fell on his face in the garden, and only woke up the next morning when a gnome mistook him for a fungus-covered mushroom and sat on the back of his head. In light of this, Ginny also received some approving pats on the shoulder from her two eldest brothers.

She grinned, lifted her glass to Percy, and then bolted it down. She took the drink much more gracefully than he did—indeed, she was beginning to feel a pleasant fuzziness, the warmth in her chest spreading out to her fingertips and making the tavern seem much more welcoming and the drinks go down much easier. Making a face as the firewhiskey burned its way pleasantly down to her stomach, she set her glass gently on the table, cleared her throat, and then glanced around at her brothers.

"All right, then. One at a time, please, I'd like you to tell me—what do you want to know?"

A/N - Next up, Ginny starts telling her story. Reviews are better than pumpkin juice- just take a few minutes to give your opinion, I want to hear it! Also, if you enjoy my writing, you might be interested to hear that I just published my first original novel on Amazon. Check my profile for more information and a link to a preview. Thanks for reading!