A/N: Here's the next chappie. A bit jumpy towards the end, but I hope you won't mind. :)

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Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I don't own Saaremaa. I even haven't been to Saaremaa. But I like cucumbers.

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The Founding of Pigwarts II – Cooking Chaos

Chapter 5: New friends, Old enemies

Looking down at her ivory robes, Ginny nervously smoothed the non-existent wrinkles away. She shouldn't be this nervous, she thought. Then again, she probably shouldn't be standing at Crabbe's door at the moment either, dressed to kill.

What would Harry say if he could see her now? Well, he would compliment her looks, of course, tell her how much he loves her, and steal a couple of kisses, but what would Harry say if he saw her standing like this at Crabbe's door? Nothing, Ginny realized. He would be far too shocked to say anything – he would just stand there, mouth gaping like a fish, looking like an idiot. And adorably sweet.

This image brought a smile to her lips, and finding new courage, Ginny raised her hand and knocked.

After enough moments had passed to make her a bit apprehensive again, the door swung open, revealing a red-faced and panting Crabbe, who gave her a stupid look.

Ginny made a mental note to kill Daphne later on. If only the other girl had not, somehow, made her curious enough to come, she wouldn't be here now. She would probably be at the Burrow, taking care of her wedding stuff, which meant that she, Molly, and Fleur would stand around the kitchen table, yelling at the top of their lungs, and throwing plates to the floor – yes, it was fun indeed to plan a wedding.

But now, she was standing here, in front of Crabbe, who was still looking at her stupidly, without being one bit cute in the process, contrary to Harry. His breathing was growing steadier, but his face was still as red as before, his mouth open, and his gaze… well, he was either shocked to see her, didn't have a clue who she was, or trying to figure out where he had left his wand so that he could fetch it, and hex her.

If Daphne had lied about him having a crush on her, she would not only kill her new friend, but do unthinkable horrors to her before. Like enlist her help in the planning of her wedding, and send her to the kitchen with Molly and Fleur.

"Hello, Vincent," she said at last, hoping it would make things better, or at least coax some response out of him. Even a scream would have suited her right now. But it didn't. Crabbe was still staring at her stupidly.

Perhaps an introduction was necessary.

"I'm Ginny," Ginny said. "Ginny Weasley. We went to school together. I was in Gryffindor."

"Ginevra," Crabbe said in awe and continued to stare at her. Well, at least he seemed to remember her. And wasn't very intent on punching her in the face, either. Which was a good thing, probably.

"May I come in?" she asked, trying to accomplish some kind of progress.

He nodded, but made no move to step aside and let her pass.

"Erm… could you please move away?"

Crabbe nodded again, but held his spot firmly, still gaping at her.

With a sigh, Ginny ducked under his arm and slipped into the house. Or at least tried to. The severe miscalculation on her part was to think that the room between the doorframe and his arm was wide enough for her to make through; in reality it wasn't, and she got stuck.

Between Crabbe and Crabbe's doorframe. And that really wasn't her place of choice to be. So she pushed a little, pulled a little, and pushed with all her might, which resulted in Crabbe falling backwards to the floor, and her tumbling down into his lap.

At that moment Ginny really wanted to burst out crying. Or perhaps laughing – the situation was indeed very funny, and she would have probably laughed herself crazy had it happened to someone else. But as it was, it wasn't someone else straddling a sprawled-out Crabbe at the moment.

And if that wasn't awful enough, the treacherous thought of things not being able to get any worse had barely made it to her mind, when someone cleared their throat above her.

Not knowing what to expect, she looked up, finding not just one face but a bunch of them gazing back at her, an amused smile on more than one mouth. Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, Millicent Bulstrode, Gregory Goyle, and many other Slytherins she could vaguely remember from school, and some people she had never seen before, seemed to be having the time of their life on her expense.

Wonderful, Ginny thought. Just wonderful.

Scrambling up from the floor and Crabbe most ungracefully, she straightened up, lifted her chin, and concentrated all her Weasley and Gryffindor courage and pride against her old enemies, giving them a superior glance of her own, and overall being ready for anything they might do to her.

But when someone of the crowd called out "Give her a kiss", and Crabbe proceeded to do this just as a camera flashed, she realized that there were some things she hadn't been quite ready for.

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All right, so she had to admit that this party was a lot better than the previous one. Perhaps because this had been thrown mostly by Draco and Millicent, as she had found out, and not by Draco's secretary.

The spiked punch was present, firewhiskey was flowing freely, and a quite bearable music was playing at the dance floor. People were sitting in comfy sofas and armchairs in groups of two or three, laughing, talking, and drinking together, attacking the snack table for crisps and mini-sandwiches, or having fun at the floor.

Ginny had tried it all out as well, even dancing with Crabbe. And with Malfoy. And with Zabini. And with another boy she didn't know. So what? She loved to dance.

Right now she was occupying a nice sofa by the fire, and persuading Crabbe to bring her Adrian Pucey's camera.

"I don't think he will do anything bad with those pictures," Crabbe spoke. It would be a huge lie to say that they were comfortable in each other's company, but at least they were talking, which in her opinion was a great leap forwards.

"He might show them to Harry." Might my ass, Ginny thought. He will show them to Harry. Or better yet, sell to the Daily Prophet. When it came to Harry, she was sure about his love for her, and she knew that he would understand; but it would still be a scandal, especially so little before their wedding. And people would get all kinds of ideas, and they would talk, and Harry didn't like people talking about him, although as The Saviour of Wizardkind, he was not going to escape that any time soon. But his reputation was good, and she didn't want to ruin it – she didn't want there to be anything to shadow their happiness, their marriage, and the beginning of their new life.

Thus, she really had to get those pictures back before the Slytherins could do Slytherinish things with them.

Crabbe said nothing. He couldn't quite figure out why she didn't want Potter to see those photos. After all, people always took photos at parties to later share them with their friends and family. The people Adrian had shown his pictures were usually so happy to see them that they gave him large amounts of money to show their gratitude.

Ginny, good at reading people, and since Vincent was not the most difficult person to understand (because he usually thought out loud, mumbling to himself), realized his opinion of all this, and her need to change it.

"Vincent," she started, turning towards him and looking him straight in the eye. "I know we haven't got along that good in the past, but times have changed now, and so have people. I've only spent a couple of moments with you, really with you, but I've already started to think of you in a different light. You're not as bad as I thought you were. You're rather decent once I get to know you better. But, Vincent," and she grabbed his hand on impulse (stupid impulses!).

"If we had met before, or in different circumstances, there might have been something more to us. But as it is, I'm in love with Harry and will soon become his wife. Therefore, I can offer you nothing but my friendship, but that I do offer, and I hope you will accept it, and appreciate it, just like I know I will treasure yours. So, Vincent, in the name of that friendship, could you please bring me Adrian Pucey's camera? If you do, I'd be forever grateful to you. I know, you think those pictures mean nothing, but in the hands of certain people, bad people (the evil evil Slytherins, she added in her mind), they can cause me a lot of trouble. You wouldn't want me to be sad, do you?"

She ended her speech in a miserable tone and made puppy-dog eyes at him, mentally congratulating herself for the wonderful speech, and thinking she should really win some award for it.

And that's why she only smiled when a voice spoke out.

"Wonderful speech. I applaud to you, Weaslette. Really, they should give you an award for it."

It took her a moment to realize that it was Malfoy standing behind them and smirking down at her, and she only realized it because of Crabbe's greeting of "Hey, Draco! Would Adrian mind if I stole his camera?"

Ginny blushed and cursed under her breath. So much for her brilliant speech. What brought her even more down, was suddenly becoming aware of still holding Crabbe's hand in hers, and even though she let go quickly, by his devilish grin, as she turned to face him, Malfoy had most definitely noticed.

"Why don't you go and ask him yourself?" he suggested to Crabbe, who thought it a good idea, and rushed off to do just that. He really did like Ginny. She had really lovely hair. And her eyes sparkled. And she wanted to be his friend. No one had ever pleaded him to accept their friendship. So, perhaps his feelings for her were a little bit deeper, but he had always known she was too good, too smart, too beautiful for him; and if she offered friendship, he was not going to turn it down. In fact, he was ready to do almost anything to keep her happy. And if what she wanted Adrian's camera, then that's what he was going to get her. Provided, of course, that Adrian didn't mind.

Leaving Ginny alone with Draco, there was a noticeable spring in his step. At least until Millicent told him to stop the stomping before the floor gave way.

"So, Weaslette," Malfoy took a seat beside the girl. "Enjoying this party so far?"

"Compared to the last, it's pure heaven," she spat back, refusing to beg him for anything. It was one thing to ask those photos from Crabbe, but she would never stoop this low in front of Malfoy.

Funny, she thought with a wry smile. And that's the guy I'm trying to set up with Hermione.

"Great speech," he said again. "Although you are seducing the wrong Slytherin here. Pucey doesn't have those pictures anymore."

"Then who?" she asked, although the answer was glaringly obvious.

"Me," Malfoy smirked. "And let me give you a small hint – I'm not much of a man of words, but one of actions."

That you are, Ginny thought with a real smile now, thinking back to all those kisses the journal described as passionate.

"Sorry to disappoint you, Draco," she said sweetly. "Unfortunately, I'm taken already. But my dear friend Hermione is still single, even though with all the men competing for her attention, I'm afraid it won't be so for long."

"Why should I give a damn for that bookwormish prude?" Draco said a bit too quickly.

"Well, she's not that much of a prude anymore," Ginny smirked. "A bit wild our sweet girl has gone."

That was not a complete lie. Hermione did go wild once in a while. Even though Ginny had to practically drag her there. And even though Hermione's definition of going wild meant sitting in the bar and sipping her drink, which was alcoholic only when Ginny managed to order it for both of them.

The look on Draco's face, however, was almost worth the scandal those pictures in Daily Prophet would cause. Almost, but not quite. Still, if she had had any doubts before, she now knew for sure that she was going to get those two together, no matter what.

Sparing her of his usual insults, Malfoy left with a "Have a peek at tomorrow's Prophet" and "Enjoy the party."

Ginny would have turned this one into a whirlpool as well. But then she decided against it, and took permanent residence at the dance floor instead. They were sneaky and evil and bastards, these Slytherin men, but at least they could dance.

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"Where you attacked by a Verdeseus?"

Daphne considered the question.

"Not that I know of," she said at last. "Unless that was the name of that really cute guy I met at the door. Although, he didn't attack me. Unfortunately."

"Oh, that was Sven Svensson. He's our Swedish correspondent and one of the best experts on Crumple-Horned Snorkacks."

"Who's Verdeseus then?" Daphne asked half-mindedly, thinking about having a trip to Sweden, and letting someone show her around there. Around his house, for example.

"Verdeseus is a cucumber spirit. He seldom comes out to play with people, but when he does, he might get a bit too carried away. He's harmless really, unless you're allergic to colour green. He dyes his victims, you see."

"Oh, that's nice," Daphne commented, still thinking about Sven Svensson.

"Is he married?"

"Of course there are both female and male cucumber spirits. I mean, where else would little spirits come from – a daddy cucumber spirit meets a mommy cucumber spirit, and they get together, and visit each other's cucumbers, and then they embrace, and a new cucumber gets born with this little spirit already inside."

"That's lovely. I like cucumbers. But I meant that guy, Eric Ericsson."

"You mean Sven Svensson? Yes, he's married."

"Damn!" Daphne cursed. "All the good ones are taken."

Luna looked up from her carrot-raspberry muffin.

"I'm sorry, you wanted it yourself?"

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"Grawp is good brother."

"Yes, of course."

"Hagger goes to Saaremaa."

"That's what I heard."

"Leaves Grawp here."

"Yes."

"Grawp take care of things. Good care. Grawp is good brother."

"Yes, Grawp is good brother. Can Grawp sing?"

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"WHAT?"

"Mr. Thompson is not here right now, Miss," the Ministry Official repeated a bit louder, giving the weird girl in front of him a suspicious look. She didn't look too bad, he had to admit, with the bed sheet wrapped around her in Indian style, her hair green and messy, eyes sparkling emerald, and her hearing apparently not the very best. In fact, her hearing aside, she looked very much like someone just having left her bed, preferably after a passionate night, for the short trip to the bathroom.

The Ministry of Magic, however, was not a bathroom, even though it had some.

"I'LL WAIT!!!" the girl announced over the large hall, so those who had somehow missed her appearance, couldn't look past her now.

Brian Carrie, having been unfortunate enough to receive her in the first place, quickly led her towards Mr. Thompson's office and away from all the prying eyes. He could hear the slow murmur of gossip the moment he turned his back, and knew that in an hour, the whole place would know about it. Well, at least it would be Mr. Thompson's problem from there on.

But they never made it to the nicely private office, with a nice lockable door.

"DEAN THOMAS!!!"

Startled, the new Quidditch Star turned around, and realized that perhaps it hadn't been the best day after all to visit his long-term friend Seamus, who worked for the Ministry.

Then again, perhaps it was. Because, the Ministry did have bathrooms. Nicely private bathrooms with nice lockable doors.

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A/N: Aaaaah! I'm out of inspiration!!! Help!!!!!! Hint: REVIEWs help. :)