For J.M Rekark; the only one who's shown the slightest bit of interest in this story.
Chapter 2: Room With a View
"Finally!" George called from behind the counter, poking hopelessly at the register, "We were wondering what'd happened ta you!"
"Possibly murdered, probably kidnapped," Fred added as he kicked open the storeroom door and plopped a large stack of boxes on the countertop as Ginny wandered deeper into the store.
The joke shop had the same warm, comfortableness as the Burrow, and Ginny found it very familiar although she could count the number of times she had visited on her hands. In each front window was a scroll bobbing lazily, advertising the newest merchandise to passersby. Most of the displays were pushed against the wall, with a number of high sellers floating in the middle of the floor.
"Can't get it to bloody dis-a-whatsit," scoffed Fred bitterly, gesturing to a stubborn black cloud that was hanging about in one corner of the shop. He gave a slight flick of the wand and a legion of gilded hand fans appeared, flapping futilely at the powder. "Anyway, where've ya been, Gin."
Ginny frowned, furrowing her brow at the events that had so thoroughly ruined her morning. Too bad they're expert liars, she sighed to herself, They'll never believe anything I come up with. With a helpless shrug, she delivered the truth to the best of her ability.
"It was so nice out, I floo-ed in at the Leaky Cauldron and walked the rest of the ways." They should have known it was damned-able lie. Diagon Alley had become increasingly depressing with all its boarded up shops and suspicious shoppers. No one would willingly taken a stroll through the Alley unless they had to.
"Bah. Whatever," George said without an ounce of suspicion, "Come with me, I'll show you where to drop your stuff."
"Home sweet home!" George proclaimed later, throwing open the heavy door to a plain looking room complete faded yellow curtains, a squat, battered chest of drawers, a thick mattress with a rusty bed frame and a picture that would have been rather lewd if its subjects had been snoozing away happily. "Old owners left all this stuff. Even the…er, picture."
Ginny wondered over to the window, gazing over the scene outside her window. The building next to her window shouldered in, its brick sides just a tad out of arm's reach, but a rusted out fire escape ladder
There was a very abrupt drop into what she assumed was an alley, and then a clear view of the Leaky Cauldron and most of the surrounding shops. She'd always wondered where and how Diagon Alley ended, but it seemed that after a set or two of closely packed streets, the skyline blurred and dropped away.
"Kitchen and bathroom are down the hall." Ginny dropped her bag on the bed, testing the mattress with her hands.
"Blah, blah, blah," George yawned as he joined his twin in the doorframe, "Anyway, as men of the world, we have much to do."
"And by we, we mean us."
"And as men of the world, we mean suddenly rich an' smarmy bastards."
"And by much to do, we mean buy things that would make our dear old mem scrape our faces across a washboard."
"So mum's the word." They both laid a finger along their noses, and in the perfect unison that Ginny had often admired, winked conspiratorially. "Hold down the fort for us, yeah?" Without waiting for an answer, the pair disappeared, rattling down the stairs and rousing someone in the lewd portrait on the wall.
One of the subjects, a portly half-naked woman, sat halfway up and looked over Ginny before rubbing her eyes and poked the other figure on the buttocks, sighing groggily, " 'S tha' time agin dearie?"
A/N Short, I know. But my fingers hurt. Think of it as a transitional chapter. And 'mem' is mom. Seamus says it in OotP, and think that's just so damn cute. I'm a sucker for Irish accents… and anything acoustic. Stop me before I get on a lyrics reciting roll! By reviewing.