Author's Note: I am suffering my worst case of writer's block/finals studying/dying computer/having a life besides EVER. Forgive me if this chapter sucks? I'm sorry, guys.
Disclaimer: I'm getting tired of doing these…
"This is the LAST STRAW," Ginny stated for the fourth time as she toweled off her hair. "They are going to PAY."
Harry smiled slightly, watching her fume.
"Harry, what do we do?" she groaned, and slammed the towel onto the kitchen table, successfully knocking down the Mrs. Weasley's most prized pitcher, which incidentally happened to be full to the brim with pumpkin juice.
"Scourgify! Reparo!" shouted Ginny, wildly waving her arms.
"Ginny, love, you need a wand," said Harry as gently as possible, for fear of being eaten alive by the Ginny-monster.
"Wand, wand, where?" She felt around her pockets. "Here it is…WAIT."
("I'm waiting," said Harry.)
"STOP."
("Stop what?" asked Harry, bewildered.)
"DON'T MOVE."
("I'm not!" said Harry exasperatedly.)
"WANDS. BROTHERS. STEAL. NO MAGIC."
Silence.
(Primitive Ginny and the Cave-Speak Encounter, reserve one before it's too late! Release date: undisclosed as of yet)
The Light of Understanding was beginning to dawn on Harry's face. Aha! The cave-speak was beginning to register!
"THEY STOLE OUR WANDS?!"
"What? No!" exclaimed Ginny, snapping out of the Stone Age.
Alas, Harry was not a very accomplished member of The Primitive Way.
"I meant that we should steal their wands, O Dim One."
"Hey! I'm also your boyfriend!"
"So? All the more reason," said Ginny smugly.
"I'll show you reason," said Harry, and kissed her.
"Oh," said Ginny vaguely, when he released her.
Now it was Harry's turn to grin smugly.
"Aw, gross! Would you two lovers go get a room?" complained Ron as he stepped into the kitchen. "Where's the pumpkin juice?"
"It spilled," said Ginny matter-of-factly.
"How? It was in the center of the kitchen table!" he wailed.
Ginny had an evil idea.
"Well, things got a bit-carried away…" she said, choosing her words carefully.
Ron groaned and fled back up the stairs.
"God, so immature," grumbled Ginny loudly, and she snorted.
Harry snorted, as well.
Ginny snorted back.
Harry would have snorted again had he not seen the gargantuan black spider hanging from a thin web on the ceiling.
"Ginny!" he said.
"That was an odd sounding snort," said Ginny.
"No, Gin, look! Spider! Ceiling! Ron!"
Methinks the cave-speak is getting to him, thought Ginny.
"You can form grammatically correct sentences, I hope?" she asked primly.
"Yes," said Harry indignantly.
"Just checking," said Ginny innocently.
"Fine, fine, fine. You know, you're a terrible person," said Harry, laughing.
"I do know. I know everything."
"Uh huh," said Harry. "Well, do you now how we're supposed to get that spider down from the ceiling and stuff it down Ron's shirt without him noticing AND at the same time steal all five of their wands?"
Um, no? thought Ginny. But there was no way she was giving in! She was Ginny! He was Harry! Ginny ALWAYS wins. She got him to kiss her, didn't she? I am a WINNER, Ginny thought confidently. And winners never lose, because that would make them losers. And losers aren't winners! And I'm a winner, so I don't lose, or else I'll become a loser, which is not a winner! So if I'm a winner, and I lose, I will no longer be anything! Because I am a winner! So I have to win or else I'll have no identity! (So help me Merlin!)
Satisfied with her somewhat flawed logic, she replied swottily:
"Yes."
Harry looked nonplussed.
"How?"
"Well, first thing, we have to capture the spider in some sort of container."
No shit, Sherlock, said a voice in her head.
Shut up, Ginny replied. Who are you anyway?
I'm-
"A loser! Ginny does not tolerate losers because she's a winner! Leave! Leave, I say!"
Harry was looking at Ginny strangely.
"What?" she asked defensively.
"Er-"
Oh.
OH.
She had just yelled that last line aloud, hadn't she?
Crapola.
"Where do we find that?" Harry asked.
"What?"
"A container. For the Arachnid."
Praise the Lord for temporary deafness!
"Easy," said Ginny normally, and began to rummage through the kitchen cabinets. "Aha!" she said, and produced a peanut butter jar.
"Ginny, that's half filled with peanut butter."
"It's empty enough," she shrugged.
"If you're sure," said Harry.
"Yeah. Okay," said Ginny, sounding much surer than she felt. "Go ahead."
"Go ahead what?"
"Get the spider, duh."
"Me?"
"Um, yeah."
"What?!"
Ginny gave him her finest pair of puppy dog eyes. Who could resist those big, brown, beautiful, thick-lashed peepers of hers?
No one, that's right.
…Except Harry.
"No," he said flatly.
"Haaarrrryyyy!" whined Ginny. "Please? For me?"
He looked thoughtful for a second.
"I hate it when people use that line. Fine."
Ginny smiled. Ginny: 3, Harry: 0.
Life was good, life was good.