Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
Summary: Everyone in the Ministry knows that being transferred to Cloffice really means you're being sacked. But when she herself is "transferred" Ginny finds out that common knowledge isn't always right, and is shown a world and life she never knew existed. DGB
(a/n: thank you to everyone for reading, I hope you enjoyed the third chapter.
Read on, oh faithful ones...)
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Chapter Four
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Ginny Apparated to where the small red spot was located on the ground, missing it by a few centimetres. She cursed under her breath, returned to her original spot and tried again. She missed yet again.
It continued this way for the better part of an hour...
Return. Apparate. Miss.
Return. Concentrate. Aim. Apparate. Closer, but still a miss.
Get excited that it was closer.
Return. Apparate. Miss completely.
Damn feelings for putting her off.
Return. Concentrate. Aim. Apparate. Miss.
Return. Concentrate. Aim. Apparate. Closer.
Return. Concentrate harder. Aim, don't blink.
BANG.
Jump at the loud noise. Thank the gods' that at least she didn't splinch herself again.
Get yelled at by an instructor who makes Ivor the Horrible look like a carefree Pygmy.
Start all over again.
Return. Concentrate, this time channelling anger and loathing towards the instructor. Aim, don't blink. Apparate. Closer even still.
Return. Concentrate, channel energy. Aim, don't blink. Apparate. Get the mark.
Start again, this time with more noises.
Ginny had splinched herself three times by the end of the hour, and still couldn't feel her stomach when lunch came around. Claudia had splinched herself once, fainted from shock and was taken to the infirmary for the rest of the lesson.
Lucky bitch, Ginny thought with a grimace.
"She won't be at lunch, at least," Jordan said to Morrigan with a grin.
Pansy's advice for them to be friendly to each other hadn't worked so well in practice.
"Good. Her ga-ga eyes are making go round the twist," Morrigan said, rolling her eyes. "It's almost enough to make me lose my lunch!"
They all laughed at this; Morrigan's appetite not even put off after five splinches.
"I might go to the gym before lunch. I want to see if I can get some feeling back into my intestines before I attempt to eat," Ginny said with a grin.
"Do you want us to come with you?" Morrigan offered.
"I'm sure I can sweat like a pig on my own. Thanks anyway," Ginny replied, chuckling as she headed up to the gym.
As Ginny entered the gym, the wireless switched on. At a flick of her wand, the wireless started to pump out loud music that had a definite beat to it. Stripping down to a pair of shorts and singlet that was constantly beneath her clothes, Ginny did some brief exercises designed to warm up the body, then sat on the Muggle rowing machine.
She patted her stomach but still couldn't feel anything.
She moved her arms in time with the music, and was so intent on her rhythm that she didn't even notice when the music was replaced with the general tunes.
Ginny did however, realise that something was different when she smelt two certain scents. Ones that had been haunting her more often than they should. Ones that belonged to two people who were in her mind more than they should be, as well. She would have groaned in complaint, but that would have aroused too many questions.
"Draco, Blaise. Come to exercise?" Ginny asked.
She got off the rowing machine, acting as if she wanted to go on the Muggle bicycle next. She just didn't want to be at ground level while they were still standing above her.
"That's generally what the gym is for, Ginevra," Draco said, smirking at her.
Everyone started calling her Ginevra after Pansy had said her name. Only Jordan and Morrigan were still calling her 'Ginny', something that was oddly comforting in a building full of strangers who knew your full name. Ginny found herself thinking that she didn't mind Draco and Blaise using her first name.
Dangerous thoughts, Ginny warned herself, then forced her mind on the bicycle and movement of her legs.
She told herself not to be distracted as Draco and Blaise stripped down to their shorts and singlets - it seemed everyone wore them beneath their clothes - and then told herself not to stare at their torso's, even if they were exactly how she had imagined them a week ago.
Ginny could see the smirks on their faces as they started exercising in front of her, purposely stretching and encouraging her over-active imagination.
She could almost hate them. Almost.
...
"We've got dinner at the Burrow tonight, sister dearest. Would you like me to make apologies, or are you up for it?" George asked as she stepped out of the fireplace.
Ginny was sore, tired, irritable, and really did not want to deal with her mother tonight. But she knew that if she didn't go to the Burrow for dinner, then she would hear all about it next time. How wonderful everything had been, how quiet the children were, how Molly had been so upset that her only daughter wouldn't spend time with her, even after everything she had done for her in the past twenty-one years. It would never end.
"I'm going to have a shower, and there had better be a strong Calming Draught when I get out," Ginny grumbled.
As she showered and attempted to work the kinks out of her shoulders, Ginny realised that she hadn't read The Quibbler that afternoon, as she usually did with her lunch. She swore softly, and the knot of tension she had just worked out of her back returned, seemingly double the size.
Muttering to herself, Ginny finished washing herself, stepped out of the shower, did a fast and effective drying spell, and changed into her clothes in record time.
"I need The Quibbler too, George!" she called at the door as she was changing, hoping he would hear her.
"I'm not your mother!" she heard him say.
"I know that, but do you really want to face her when I haven't read today's issue?" Ginny called back, grinning now.
"One issue of The Quibbler, coming up!"
Ginny laughed and hurried to put her boots on.
George was waiting by the fireplace, a Calming Draught in one hand and The Quibbler in the other.
"We can only be another five minutes. Any later and we'll surpass Ron's tardiness time," George said.
Ginny shuddered. Almost three years ago, Ron had arrived a whole fifteen minutes late for a Burrow dinner, without an explanation. Molly had taken Ron aside and said something that left an obvious impression on him. Not only had he been on time for every Burrow dinner since then, but Ron still flinched whenever someone mentioned the word 'tardiness'.
She grabbed The Quibbler from George, hurried to the article she had supposedly written, and skim read it. It would have to do, and Ginny would just have to hope that Molly didn't question her on the article. Yeah, right.
George and Ginny arrived at the Burrow with three minutes to spare.
"You were almost late," Ron said, grinning at them.
"Almost being the key word there, brother," George replied with a wink.
"Three games of chess," he said as they walked inside.
"One game each and tickets to the Chudley Cannons game next weekend," Ginny bartered.
"Done," Ron said.
"Oh, there you are! I was just about to go get Arthur to check the clock for you," Molly scolded.
"They've been here a while, Mum. I was talking to them outside," Ron said, covering for them easily.
"Oh, Ronnie-kins. You know I worry when I don't know when everyone's here," she reprimanded lightly.
"Yes, sorry Mum," Ron replied.
"Where'd you get Chudley tickets from?" George murmured to Ginny as they sat down.
"Apparently, I get them for working at The Quibbler. I was going to give them to him as a surprise anyway, but this is better," she replied, grinning.
"Nice. What else do you get for working there?" George asked, grinning.
"Free copies of The Quibbler, and a plush toy of a Nargle," Ginny said, grinning sarcastically.
"What, no trips to the swamps of Africa to look for rare and most likely invisible creatures?"
"You only get that after three year's working there. Presuming you haven't died in the tombs of Egypt."
"What are you two giggling about down there?" Molly called, looking at them with a slight smile as she passed George his plate.
"Ginny's job," George replied with a grin, taking the plate.
"Oh, that's nice... I quite enjoyed the article you wrote today, dear. I didn't know that peacocks and phoenixes were so closely related," Molly said.
Ginny went blank for a minute. She hadn't written that... At least, she hadn't read that she'd written it. Then she felt George tap her leg twice, telling her that Molly was lying, trying to make her slip up.
"I didn't write that article, Mother," Ginny said, taking her offered plate. "Mine was on the properties of dragon blood and how Albus Dumbledore benefited the wizarding community by discovering them."
"Oh yes, of course. How silly of me," Molly said, flustered.
Sneaky witch, Ginny thought to herself.
...
"I cannot believe her!" Ginny exploded the moment she and George arrived in their apartment. "It's as if she doesn't trust me or something!"
"What, trust that you are doing a job, which you aren't actually doing? Or trust that you're not putting yourself in danger, which you are?" George replied, grinning.
"Well, she doesn't know that," Ginny muttered, pouting. Then she sighed, rubbing her face wearily. "I don't care anymore. I'm going to bed, all right? I'll see you tomorrow morning, dearest brother," she said affectionately, hugging him.
"All right. Have a restful sleep, sister dearest," he murmured.
"You too," Ginny replied, then pulled away and trudged to her room, muttering under her breath.
George watched her go with an amused smile on his face.
...
Sunday passed by fairly quickly. Ginny and George spent their entire day at the cemetery, talking with Fred about what Ginny had done at Cloffice in the past week.
"So where do you think Harry was yesterday? He was supposed to be there for dinner, wasn't he?" George asked curiously.
Ginny started slightly at the mention of her boyfriend's name. She had hardly thought about him in the past week, and realising it now made her feel guilty.
"I don't know. He must have been busy," Ginny said. "Did he send apologies to Mum?"
"Owl, I think. She was miffed that he didn't firecall personally," George replied, grinning.
"I'll bet she would have been," she muttered, shaking her head.
"He was probably just busy with Auror work," George said after a moment of silence.
"Most likely... It's getting dark," Ginny murmured.
"Then we shall leave before the monsters in the dark come upon you!" George said gallantly, laughing when Ginny glared at him.
...
Ginny woke up at four in the morning, mere seconds before George knocked on her door, even managing to do that in an overly cheerful manner.
"I'm up!" she called, thankful he hadn't just come in with a bucket of water as he had done two times last week.
"Good, get in the shower!" George called.
Ginny rolled her shoulders, grabbed her bathrobe from the end of her bed and left her nice warm bed to head to the cold bathroom.
She could understand the need to fit in as much as possible into the training. Every week they were learning a new topic, attempting to fit years' worth of magic into a four month program. In the last week alone, Ginny had managed to fine tune her Apparation skills so that she could land on an inked dot without more than half a second of concentration, and even that was done with loud noises and distractions. She had learnt things about nutrition, healing, and self defense that she never would have learned on her own, or without some exterior motive.
What Ginny couldn't understand is why they were so intent on making everything so gods' damned early in the morning! She could have just as easily learnt everything at night time, when it was easier to get up and concentrate without needing three pure shots of caffeine injected into her bloodstream.
She finished her shower, dried herself and hair off, then got changed quickly.
"You're getting quicker," George said as she came out of the bathroom.
"What?" Ginny asked, frowning as she turned to look at the clock. "Fifteen minutes?"
Molly had tried for years to get her children to cut down on the amount of time they spent in the shower, having no luck with any of them, especially with Ginny. She had been undisturbed in the shower - a blessing in a house of nine - and Ginny had always sought her peace of mind and privacy within the three walls of the shower cubicle.
"Mother would be so proud," George drawled, smirking at her.
Ginny muttered at him under her breath, then headed to the kitchen to have breakfast for the first time in over a week.
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(a/n: Thank you for reading.
I hope you enjoyed the chapter!)
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