This is going to have to be one hell of a plan.

Okay, so there is likely no feasible way that I will be able to actually get Dad by himself. My brothers are way too smart to let me do that.

Sometimes, I wish there had been just a little less for intelligence genes in the family. I mean, they obviously missed me.

I stare at Hermione's retreating back. She obviously has to get away from the enemy as fast as possible, or is at risk of becoming a target herself.

She goes over, quite sneakily I might add, and joins the Weasley brother huddle that Charlie, Bill and Ron are performing at the moment. Wait. Someone's missing.

George.

Where is he?

Oh, and Percy too, not like he has any really exciting things to add to this whole day.

If Percy had an exciting idea, I'd eat my wand.

Pause.

Well, only if I had it. It'd be rather difficult to eat an invisible wand, you know.

Hey, I wonder if ghosts have invisible food. Or the ethereal kind, that only they can touch. Then again, why don't we ever see them eating it?

Maybe they are just private eaters. I wish I had that luxury.

Sigh. Not that I'm ever going to get it. I mean, I was raised a Weasley, then attended Hogwarts, then played Quidditch on a team, then got married, and well, had kids.

Obviously my life will never include private eating.

Hey!

Maybe I can ask Harry to put me in a nursing home where I can eat in my room. Not that he'd listen. He'd just laugh.

I'll have to ask about putting that in my will.

Wow, that was an odd thought process.

I should probably go into the kitchen. At least Mum will be able to protect me a smidgen in there. I hope.

I wonder where the kids scarpered off to. I thought that they'd be hunting for candy like the cave people they are.

Snort.

Fleur appears, looking kind of agitated. Well, what ate her begonia?

You'd think, with the whole Veela thing going on, that her life would be much closer to perfect to mine, but apparently not.

She nods at me, and I say "Hi Fleur!"

Wow, fake cheerfulness much?

"Hello Ginny," she says quietly, and I wonder what's up.

"Anything wrong, Fleur?" I ask carefully. Maybe she's in on the plan.

"Nothing," she shrugs, "just wondering where Victoire and Teddy have got to. I hope Bill hasn't done something stupid."

Bless her, her accent's even better today!

"We need them for the next step in the..." She pauses for maximum effect, and articulates delicately in the French mannerly way of hers, "plan."

Well, then. I'm obviously not going to be included in this plan. Thanks for sharing.

She continues down the hall, and I am lost in my own thoughts for a moment.

Bugger.

Am I really that dense? She just told me about a plan, and I just let her walk away?

Damn.

Nothing to be done about it now, though.

I wander into the kitchen, and Mum's bustling around like the housewife she is. Making some kind of food, not quite sure what, and it smells like heaven. Though I've never been to heaven so I really shouldn't be making that comparison.

Mum looks at the apparently kind of dazed expression on my face, and says "Tea?"

Mental sigh.

Here's a little secret of mine.

I honest-to-Merlin hate tea. I know, I know, I'm British and therefore have some kind of biological claim on liking tea, but it's rather disgusting.

The problem is that everyone else would bug me about it forever and ever if I did anything like confess to my big tea hatred. So, I just stick with pretending I love it more than life itself.

At our house, though, we have a secret coffee maker. It is my saviour. Caffeine is a very necessary thing for a parent, you know.

My kids don't know about it though, unless one of them has seen me drinking it which could be possible, but hopefully Harry remains the only person who knows about my coffee fetish. Thank goodness.

Until the day that coffee has been accepted by the modern British folk, I have to keep my love hidden. It's kind of like Romeo and Juliet, you know.

Did I seriously just compare myself and coffee to Romeo and Juliet?

Dear Merlin.

So, like a good little girl, I take my cup of tea in silence, and pretty much pour half of the milk jug into it. Oh, and 3 teaspoons of sugar for good measure. Really not a very healthy sounding drink, eh?

A teaspoon of sugar helps the medicine go down!

Hermione really should never have lent us all their movies. They are really catchy tunes.

I suddenly notice that I'm humming the tune. Embarassing. Even though it's just Mum.

You know what I'm suddenly craving?

I really want to try out my brownies. I decide to make an attempt at getting one.

"See you later, Mum," I say as I bypass the pan and reach out my hand to try to grab one when Mum reacts.

"NO YOU DON'T GINEVRA WEASLEY! THOSE ARE FOR LATER!"

Well, doesn't that feel familiar. She is causing me to have a flashback of my childhood days spent in this house, with her as my... well, boss.

For lack of a better word.

Ah, deja-vu.

I slink out of the kitchen, brownieless, and hear her mumble something about how her own children don't follow the rules of etiquette.

Hmph. I'm grumpy now.

I randomly wonder where the kids have got to. Maybe should look for them in a bit.

Nah, they can fend for themselves.

I see Percy coming down the stairs.

"Hey Percy," I greet him, for I haven't really talked to him yet. He looks at me disdainfully.

Percy, though he has joined our family again for all intents and purposes, is probably the least Weasley of all of us. I suppose he probably has his little devilish streak in there somewhere, we all do, but we don't see it too often. Okay, ever. We are family, but in the grand scheme of things, Audrey and him are my least favourite relatives.

"Good day, Ginevra."

Well, how's that for casual? Jeepers. It's like he's a high class Ministry worker who only even talks to me because I'm a Potter now.

That's actually a pretty fair description of Percy's attitude. If it hadn't been for me marrying Harry, I'm sure he would have changed his last name by now. Or he would have failed at politics. Or maybe he would have tried to marry Harry himself.

That's a really nasty mental picture. My husband and brother together. Ew.

"How are you today Percy?" I say, quite cheerfully I might add.

"I'm alright," and to my shock a very strange expression steals its way onto his face.

A smirk.

"At least," he smiles slightly, and starts to chuckle, "way better than you will be."

Oh dear.

So there goes my theory that Percy isn't part of this.

The only thing that I can take comfort in is that I didn't go to him for help. That could have had very catastrophic results.

Especially if I told him about my plan to get the wand.

But still!

The last safe brother.

Gone in a puff of smoke.

I just stare at him dumbly.

He turns what he's carrying so that I can see it. Ogden's Finest Firewhiskey.

Well, that could have a few catastrophic results. Not least of which come from the fact that it's Percy with the alcohol. Who knows what could happen?

And when Percy sets down the box for all of a second, grabs a bottle and chugs it, all I can do is stare.

Percy Weasley with alcohol.

The world as I knew it has pretty much come to an end.

A crashing, burning kind of end.

AN

The next chapter! Voila! Review, please and thank you!