After an hour or two of having to sit in the freakishly shaking bus, with Mel kicking her seat angrily from behind, the site of the camping area was within view. As they pulled in, Ginny whispered the news of the new arrivals to Mel, who seemed to forgive her a bit.
Ginny ordered the kids to grab their stuff - and only their stuff - from the trunk before hastily ushering all of the kids off of the bus. She twisted her lips wryly as she realized Clairy's source had been correct: someone had beaten them there. "Hey, Blondie, care to help with unloading the bus?" She called to where the blonde tennis coach stood in a huddled circle with his four campers, lounging against the white van they'd taken.
He looked up, and Ginny thought for a second that she recognized him, then shook that off. Just cause he was British, as she'd pointed out to Clairy multiple times, did not mean that she automatically knew him. Besides, he was older than her, so he'd probably graduated years before her, if he even went to Hogwarts. "What's up, Ginger?" Even his voice sounded somewhat familiar... but Ginny convinced herself she was just a little homesick for a familiar accent.
She ignored the name, deciding if her parents called her that, she wouldn't mind being called it at camp. "Supplies in the trunk," she jerked a finger at the bus she'd just exited, "Would you and your boys mind helping get it to the camp site?"
The counselor motioned to two of his boys, "Bull, Frontman - help the pretty lady out," he shot a wink at Ginny, who's eyebrows shot up. But the two he'd motioned to jogged over to the bus to help carry a couple of tents, while the other two, younger, took their counselor's pointed gaze and grabbed another tent, following the path that went into some trees away from the gravel parking lot.
Ginny grabbed her own bag from the trunk, and struggled to sling the tent bag over her shoulder.
"I've got it," the blonde grabbed the bag, and Ginny slipped out of it, instead taking the enchanted cooler in one hand.
"Thanks," she nodded to him, that nagging feeling back in her head again as she caught his pale grey eyes with her dark brown ones. "Which way to the pitch?"
He smiled - almost half a smirk - and guided her on to the path his boys had taken before. "It's rather small - but as long as these are nice magical tents we shouldn't have to worry," he commented as they emerged into a shady grove of dark mulched dirt, where there were already some piles of camp gear.
Ginny shot him a look - that smirk tugged at something in her memory - and chided herself. Every time she heard a Brit, she couldn't just assume she knew them. He, apparently, didn't need to argue, as he hadn't even asked her name. Not that she was all that excited to give it to him. Weasley was a well-enough known name, especially with the connotations of Harry Potter, that she would ruin any trace of anonymity she had. "Nigel said we'd be going sparse - they're magical, but not much," she commented, "And we're supposed to be putting them up by hand, too." She didn't hide the groan in her voice.
He laughed, "Well - what do you expect?" He glanced to his boys, who had already begun attempting to pitch their tent while Ginny's campers began to trickle in, and there was a look of... what was it? A self-mocking laughter and a pride, she supposed. Not in himself, though, in his campers. "I expect it'll all be fine."
"You've got some faith." Ginny narrowed her eyes at him, pushing the recognition out of her head, and still smiling.
He laughed, though Ginny didn't see what was so funny, "Let's hope it's not bad." He chuckled, and upturned the bag of tent gear, starting work on sorting out each of the parts. "Care to help, Ginger?"
Ginny shrugged, and smiled, crouching beside him to look at the directions, "My family's camped before," she told him, quickly sorting out the long rods from the short, and placing them in their respective piles, thankful for her trip to see Charlie as much as her family's traumatic camping experiences the summer before her third year at Hogwarts and the summer after her sixth. None had been especially enjoyable - despite what she'd assured her parents. She just never felt quite at home when camping. Or, maybe, she felt just too at home, with brothers constantly barging in on her.
Within minutes, they had begun to set up the tent, a friendly dynamic passing between them in the silence, still anonymous to each other.
"What's the schedule for tonight, d'you know?" He asked as she handed him the next rod, holding up one side of the tent as he knocked the rod into the ground, holding the other side into place.
Ginny brushed off her hands, "I expect we get them all settled in their tents - once Clairy and Joze get here - and then we'll do an ice breaker. You know, the usual beginning dynamic," she laughed, lightly, rolling her eyes. No one really enjoyed ice breakers.
He checked his watch, "Well, we can expect them within the hour, I think," he told her, setting up more rods and pegs as Ginny watched, ready to hand him whatever he needed next.
She nodded, checking her own watch.
A few minutes later, the tent was set, and Ginny happily chose her room (the counselors' tent was apparently larger than the campers'), and placed her little overnight bag beside the hammock-like bed, stretching out for a quick nap, trusting her colleague to wake her once Clairy and Joze arrived - and knowing her campers wouldn't have a problem barging in on her before then, if they needed anything. Little buggers.
