Okay! So, more peeking into the past. I'm almost done with this story, and it's a little sad for me. You guys have all been so amazing, I don't know if I want to lose the attention...but we all know those stories that take three years to be posted are a real pain, so I'm trying to be at least a little prompt.

Thanks again for the amazing reviews! This chapter kinda works as a filler, but also let's you know more about what Ginny's been doing, and I think it's important to know where someone's coming from. And I am writing this, so I kinda have final say. :)

And just a fun fact, the electric toothbrush thing, yeah, a friend of mine has had it done. Willingly, if you can believe that.


No, really. You have to work. It's one of those rules for being an adult. Ginny's brain scolded. Ginny frowned at the package that had arrived days before, courtesy of her giant owl, who had now taken up the hobby of delighting and bewildering bird watchers when not working.

Still frowning, Ginny opened the parcel, halfway surprised a cloud of dust didn't pop up from the inside, it seemed like it'd been so long since it arrived, the fateful day of lunch with her once one true love's fiancée.

"All right, work. You don't like me, and I don't like you." Ginny told the contents of the box, "But I'm going to do you, and I don't mean in a dirty way, as in, you're going to get done. Catch my drift?" the contents made no response. "Right then, shall we?"

Ginny set to work, her quill scratching away, not leaving her room, completely focused on the task at hand.

"Well, I know she's not hung over, she was with Charlie last night, so it should be fine to go on up there." Mrs. Weasley said to her veela of a daughter in law as she watched the laundry fold itself and her oldest grandson make up words to a book as her two oldest granddaughters colored away.

"I will speak to 'er and tell 'er how I axpect my girls to be treated." Fleur sniffed. After Dominique had been threatened with a unicorn tattoo, Fleur was fed up. While her husband thought it was all just gentle teasing, she knew what it really was: Ginny was a bad aunt.

"C'min." Ginny mumbled in response to the rapping at her door, not really paying attention to anything but the task at hand.

"Ginny, I need to--what iz that?" Fleur cut herself off, looking with wide eyes at the back wall in Ginny's room.

The contents of the box were successfully removed, and now covering the wall. They were sketches of countless high heeled, fancy, designer shoes. Each one was incredibly detailed, and Ginny was just scribbling away on the parchment, making adjustments as needed.

"It's work." Ginny mumbled, chewing on her quill in thought, trying to figure out what to do with a sling back pump that would make it more desirable without causing the wearer to beg for death after wearing it for twenty minutes.

"Theze designz…they all look az if they ahr Mossimo Marturi ori-iginalz!" Fleur gasped, falling in love with a gold stiletto that seemed to sparkle even only in paper form in her eyes.

"Yeah, it is."

"He iz dead!"

"I know."

"Then 'ow iz thiz possibull?" Fleur was very close to drooling as she kept looking.

"I keep telling everyone everything, but no one seems to listen…Mossimo hired me out of Glasgow and I worked for him till he died, and he left me everything."

"Everything?"

"Yes, everything! Yeesh."

"You got 'iz bizness?"

"Yes."

"'Iz 'ouze?"

"All three of them. Gave those to charity, though. The one in Rome's an orphanage, Florence is a women's shelter, and the one in Cicely is a museum."

"Away?! You gave thoze away?!"

"Well, yes. I can't exactly live in three places at once, can I? Y'know, I probably could have lived in them all, bounced between them, now that I think about it…"

"And the money?"

"I can't live in money, that's just silly."

"No! What did you do with ze money?!"

"Oh, right, he left me a fortune. I have some saved away, don't know when I'll ever use it, and the rest is used to run the business."

"You now own thiz shoe company?"

"Have you not been paying attention?!"

"You?"

"Honestly."

"You?!"

Fleur then let out a distressed yell of disgust, thrust her hand to her forehead and just crumpled to the floor in anguish. She could not believe her wretched sister in law was not only rich, but owned the most successful shoe company from Italy and designed for it, and had never, not even once, mentioned it or offered her any shoes. It was not fair that Ginny got all this after being such a horrible sister.

Ginny finally turned around, some ink from her quill at the corner of her mouth, to find the distressed French girl on the floor.

"Fleur! Get off the floor! Oh, wow, that sounds funny."

"What's this?" Molly Weasley asked from the door way, her eyes focused on her daughter as she helped the other witch up.

"I'm secretly successful and that makes Fleur upset." Ginny stated, shrugging.

"You're what?" Mrs. Weasley gaped, looking over the wall and doing a very good fish impression.

"Successful. Jeez, why does everyone expect the wandering to be lost?" Ginny turned back to her work in frustration. These flats were not going to be subtly elegant with rhinestones. Honestly, some designers totally missed the point of class, or just mixed the word up with flash.

"Ginny, when you're done working on that…picture, come downstairs." Molly instructed, her eyes fluttering over the sketches. So many frivolous purchases. So unnecessary in her mind.

It took 30 minutes for Ginny to make her way down, the ink now cleaned from her face, to find her sister in law and mother sitting at the table sipping tea while her nieces and nephew played quietly.

"Do you think buttons would work on a shoe? Like, how you button your shirt but on your shoe? I'm trying to go on a more youthful approach, but I can't really decide…Oh well, I'll send it to them. I'm the boss, they can't really say anything."

"Ginny," Molly started, her voice full of warning, "you shouldn't shock Fleur like that, she's very delicate while expecting."

"Gods, Mum, can you even say the word pregnant?"

"I just don't like it! Now, I think you should apologize."

"For what?"

"Upsetting her!"

"Fine! Fleur, I'm sorry you can't handle me being successful and having money and lots of pretty shoes."

"Ginny!"

"What?!"

"Woah!"

"Marty, go play!"

"Ginny," Fleur started, setting her tea cup down and regaining some of her coloring. As much as she didn't like to admit it, being pregnant really was difficult, and she was prone to getting light headed. "I do not think buttons would work." she stated, her pristine accent making it sound very final.

"No, think about it, it's more youthful, a different audience, and there would several button holes, making them more adjustable! It'd be great for people like me with super narrow feet, can't find any that fit if I don't make them myself."

"It would look coztume-esh!"

"It would add some drama! C'mon, now. Sometimes people want a bit of glamor on their feet! In a way other than just an obnoxious pattern or glitter."

"Glamor to you iz buttonz?"

An argument quickly followed and Ginny found herself spending the entire afternoon with the woman she once referred to 'Phlegm' and making some serious progress on the designs for fall. As much as she hated to admit it, Fleur had some good ideas.

Other ideas were just dumb, but quite a few were actually worth using. They agreed that Fleur's payment would be shoes, naturally.

By dinnertime, Ginny had sent the parcel back to Italy, much to her mother's relief as she wasn't too fond of Lei, the biggest, most intimidating owl ever.

"You and Fleur really worked together?" Ginny's father asked for the seventh time in the course of the meal.

"Yes! We really and truly did. I've believed it for years and now here's proof: shoes really do bring people together. And not just by letting them physically walk over to each other."

"But you and Fleur…"

"I know."

"And you own a shoe design company?"

"I do."

"Really?"

"What do you expect? It's an Italian company, it's gotta be either wine or shoes, and since Mum's bogarted all the alcohol, it's a good thing I don't own a winery."

"Good thing since you'd be passed out in the gutter." Mrs. Weasley muttered, although keeping her voice quite audible.

"What else have you done?" Arthur asked excitedly, quite interested, "I know about the piercing job in Phoenix and the potion studies in China, now along with the shoe design in Italy, but what else has there been exactly?"

"Well, I started out waitressing after leaving with the Lovegoods, and that's how I got my first tattoo."

"Joy." Mrs. Weasley rolled her eyes.

"Really?" Mr. Weasley asked, not seeing the correlation.

"Yeah, the fry cook, Joe, this big burly guy, had a few rounds in muggle prison, realized I was the only one who worked in the whole diner that didn't have one, so one day, after we'd closed, he held me down and the other cook, who'd been studying art before he ran out of money gave me a tattoo with an electric toothbrush. It was absolutely horrible, one of my fondest memories."

"What was it? The tattoo, I mean."

"This coffee cup," Ginny stated, pulling her hair back from behind her left ear. It was small, a classic cup sitting on a saucer, only outlined. Despite the crude tools used to make it, it was a nice drawing.

"That must have been terrifying!" Arthur breathed out in amazement. He couldn't understand how the bristles of a toothbrush could draw a picture.

"It was and it wasn't. I trusted Joe and Tyler, the two guys, even though I wasn't sure about the whole tattoo thing, but as soon as it was done, I was in love with it, never regretted it."

"I must thank them." Molly said, her voice so thick with sarcasm Ginny was surprised the salt shaker sitting in front of her wasn't knocked over by the force.

"It's simply amazing what muggles are capable of." Mr. Weasley said, still amazed, leaning in for a closer look at the little picture, he just didn't see how they could make a picture with those bristles.

Mrs. Weasley began clearing the table, making sure to clang the dishes around as much as possible to break the spell that the muggle pictures had on her husband. She didn't think being held down and drawn on was fascinating at all, she thought it sounded absolutely horrible. But to Ginny, it was something else entirely.

"I got a job." Ginny told her friend Luna Lovegood two weeks after they had arrived in Glasgow. It had only been cold and dreary since they got there, and that day the clouds had started clearing up.

"Won't that interfere with leaving?" Luna had asked, not even looking up from the plant she was examining. It was just a weed to anybody else, but Luna saw it with much more imaginative eyes.

"I don't think I'll be leaving. I kinda want to try this whole independence thing, and Vera at the diner offering me a job, that's just a sign, really. That I can do this."

"The diner where we always get breakfast?"

"That's the place."

"You'll be serving me coffee, Ginny. That's very odd."

"Yes, Luna. Of everything that's ever happened in our lives, me pouring you a cup of coffee will surely be the strangest." Luna had missed the sarcasm.

"Scotch again?" Ginny asked her fellow diner workers after another twelve hour shift. It wasn't easy, this whole independence thing. She'd been working for three months now, and could barely cover the rent for her tiny flat she shared with someone she was almost positive was making drugs in the bathroom.

"What do you expect? We're in Scotland!" Joe had boomed, following his comment with roaring laughter on his part. He thrust his big, beefy, tattoo covered forearms in the air as he laughed as if he was a one man wave. His grease stained apron was twice as bad as Ginny's, and his clothes underneath weren't nearly as clean as hers, either.

Everyday, she wore one of her three blue dresses, buttons all the way down the front, silver snaps, and white cuffs rolled up at the sleeves. It was the exact same as the other waitresses, Vera, an older woman who wore her hair in a beehive, and Deidre, a small nervous middle aged woman who was convinced she was still going to make it as an actress. Tyler just sheepishly grinned, the other, much younger cook was always quiet, watching the people who came in with curious eyes so he could sketch them when he got home. He was really an artist, not a cook.

"We only have so much Scotch 'cause the last owner drank it like water." Deidre complained, as usual. None of them would reject it though, they all needed something after a long, busy day.

"Oi, Ginny, you know who you look like?" Joe asked after they all got their drinks and sat down at a table, ready to relax.

"Every other redhead?" Ginny asked, rolling her eyes. At least twice a week a customer thought she was someone else.

"No, no, well, kinda. My mermaid!" Joe said happily, and everyone just looked at him in confusion.

"Joe, it has not rained so much that the Scottish have grown fins for legs." Vera said dryly, swirling her drink around.

"No, my mermaid!" Joe repeated. He lifted his left leg onto the table with a thud and then rolled his pant leg off to show a redheaded mermaid that was permanently drawn there. She was quite regal, actually, her face serene and framed by the flame red hair that floated around her as if she were really underwater.

"'Cept she hasn't got a top on. Gin, pop your dress open and let's have a look if you really do look like her," Tyler had grinned. His jokes were purely innocent, Ginny trusted him completely. But she hadn't heard this comment, she was completely entranced by the muggle tattoo. She had never seen one so close up, only the in flashes from her fellow employees, and no one in Hogwarts had one and she didn't spend much time with any muggles to see their tattoos.

"Haven't you seen one of those before?" Vera asked her, noticing the fascination.

"I honestly haven't." Ginny breathed, disappointed when Joe put his leg back down.

"You really did break out of a strict household." Deidre snorted, taking another sip.

"You should get one!" Joe had decided, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

"Maybe." Ginny had said thoughtfully, not realizing that the next day she would indeed have one. She should have known, Tyler was easily swayed and Joe was constantly getting in trouble for his impulsive behavior.

"Jeez, Gin, no tattoo?" Tyler asked her, everybody knew he had a portrait of his mother when she was young on his back, his tribute to her before she died.

"I've got a ton of 'em." Joe boasted, holding up his right arm to show an anchor even though he'd never been in the navy.

"Even I have one, my third husbands name." Vera stated.

"I've got a butterfly on my fanny." Deidre stated. After that the subject changed.

The next day was when a tiny man who always had immaculate shoes started arriving, and always sat in Ginny's section, every day. He was small and elf like, stooped with age but very friendly and well-groomed and not nearly as small as Professor Flitwick. He thought Ginny was just gorgeous, a light filled face to counteract the olive toned beauties he was surrounded by in his native Italy.

This idea was one of the many reasons that most people believed the little man was bonkers. Really, it was because he had been around muggles for so long he was fed up with being careful about his behavior and let his wizarding eccentricities shine through. He instantly recognized Ginny for what she was.

"Ginny, you leave with me today?" the hopeful little Italian, Mossimo asked, just like he had everyday for the past four months.

"I got a double today." Ginny grinned at him. She thought he was just adorable and knew he was wizard, his wand always in his pocket. Plus, he left great tips.

"Oh, hell Ginny!" Vera yelled from across the diner. "Just leave with him! Get outta here while you can! And see if you can take Tyler with ya!" her voice was so determined and Ginny understood that she meant it, Vera confessed to have gotten hired there when she was only 21.

"I no take muggles, I get him job with friend at museum." Mossimo said solemnly, shaking his head with his eyes shut while the cook watched from the kitchen with amazement.

"Y'know what? Fine, I'll go. What do you say, Tyler? Wanna go to Italy?" Ginny decided, dropping the rag she used to clean tables down in front of the old man.

"Sure. Nothin' holdin' me here but bad memories." Tyler stated. He talked as if he were far older than 23.

Just a few days later, Ginny was training as an assistant to the biggest shoe designer in Europe, learning the trade completely, getting art lessons from Tyler when he wasn't working in art restoration in Rome.

The two of them had almost fallen in love. Almost, until Tyler realized, unlike Mossimo, he really did have a love for the olive skinned women of the land. That was fine with Ginny, she ended up traveling around with a tiny man who entranced her completely.

"I don't see how you can consider people who force tattoos on you as friends." Molly was grumbling as the dishes washed themselves under her supervision.

"Different life, different fun." Ginny stated, staring at the glass of water that definitely was not wine, hoping no one noticed that her eyes glistened from the memories of friends she'd left behind.

Despite leaving them, she still had reminders of each of them, etched into her skin. Tattoos to her were completely personal pieces of art, but she knew better than trying to explain this to her mother.

"So, what's for dessert?" Ginny asked, hoping to distract her parents.

"Your father and I are having cake, you're bringing cookies." Molly answered as she fussed around in the kitchen.

"Bringing them where?" Ginny asked, her voice weary.

"To Ron and Hermione's. They didn't think having you for the full meal would go so well." Molly dropped a plate of chocolate chip cookies in front of her and as the plate dropped, so did Ginny's stomach. This would be a new level of hell. The kind of hell that tasted good, but was still hell.