Well, here's Ginny's first chapter, and I tried to keep her in character. This chapter was the most fun for me to write, I think. Mega thanks to all who reviewed the other parts. You all rock.
And, of course, J. K. Rowling owns these fantabulous characters that I so love to manipulate. Please don't sue. :)
Glass Slippers
by Scabbers
Chapter 4- Ginny
It's funny, the things that happen to you. I never thought I'd get to meet Harry Potter, for one thing, the boy who saved us all while he was still in diapers. I grew up hearing his name and everything about him, from the names of his parents to the shape of his scar. And now he's my brother's best friend.
I knew about Cinderella, too, before this play. My dad brought home a fairy tale book for me once, when I was very little, one that had belonged to real Muggle kids and everything. I loved that book so much, and Cinderella was my favorite. I always made my mum read it to me before I went to bed, even though I had the whole thing memorized.
And here I was now, struggling to memorize it again in its entirety.
But I didn't mind the long hours spent poring over my script, reciting my lines in my head, then checking to make sure I got them right. It was nice, really, having another identity I could sort of slip into whenever real life got too boring or stressful, or just plain crappy. Sometimes it was much more pleasant being Cinderella than Ginny Weasley.
Like tonight, for instance. Some stupid stuff from today had put me in such a foul mood that I couldn't sleep, so I just crept down to the common room in my favorite yellow pajamas to read my lines to myself. "Do you think I'll get to meet the prince? I wonder if he's handsome."
Justin was good-looking in his own way, I decided. Probably better looking than Harry Potter- older looking, definitely. But then, Harry had those eyes...
Not that it mattered, anyway, the way he was always looking at Cho Chang. He knocked over Ron's juice today, staring at her. It reminded me of a million spills of my own, especially when he was around, and it just made me feel embarrassed and miserable all at the same time.
But I wasn't going to think about that right now. I was Cinderella, and my fuzzy yellow slippers were really made of the sparkliest, most delicate glass. I closed my eyes and whispered my next line. So far, I had gotten practically every word right.
"Talking to yourself?" asked a familiar voice. I opened my eyes, startled. Fantastic, it was Harry Potter. I was looking for another opportunity to humiliate myself before bedtime.
I looked at him, and tried to ignore the way my stomach was getting all knotted up. "Hey, Harry. What are you doing up this late?"
Something flashed in his eyes, I'm sure of it, but he shrugged it away. "Couldn't sleep. Mind if I join you?" I shook my head, trying to cover my reddening face with my script. He settled down next to me on the couch, cross legged, our knees just barely touching. "So, you must have a lot of lines, huh."
I tried to think of some witty response, but ninety-five percent of my brain was focused on that one spot on the tip of my knee, where my pajamas touched his. "Um...yeah, I guess I do."
That's right, Ginny, you have lots and lots of lines. So stop obsessing over Harry Potter and study them. And turn your script right side up.
But it was hard enough not thinking about him when I wasn't sitting next to him on a couch in the common room, with our knees touching.
"I could quiz you...I mean, if you want." He rubbed that lightning bolt scar on his forehead, expression revealing nothing.
"Oh, okay. That would be great," I managed. I handed him the script, open to the page I had been practicing before he arrived. "You don't mind reading the godmother's part, do you?"
He regarded me seriously. "Ginny, I was born to play the godmother." God, he was adorable.
"Super. So I guess we could start right here then." And since when did I start using words like "super"? Arg.
"Okay, ready?" he asked. I nodded, and he began in a ridiculous falsetto godmother voice, "Oh, Godmother, I don't know how to thank you!" He fluttered his eyelashes at me over the script.
"Uh, that was my line," I said, giggling, and he actually blushed a bit. "Oh. Right. Moving on, then."
He readopted the falsetto voice, and reminded me earnestly that I must be back when the clock struck midnight.
"Don't worry, Godmother, I won't forget." I felt very pleased with myself for remembering my lines, even in the face of the ultimate distraction. To my surprise, however, I began to feel somewhat at ease, and actually found myself showing off a bit as we read through the scene.
"Hey, the ballroom part is next," said Harry, "Do you want me to be the prince?"
"Why not?" I said, trying to look nonchalant. I very much wanted him to be the prince.
"Okay, we'll skip to the part where you come in." He flipped the page. "Blah blah blah, okay, here we are. My lady, I couldn't help but notice you as you entered the room. Your face is familiar to me somehow, yet surely I would remember having encountered such a beautiful- is this guy for real?"
"You don't think it's at all sweet?" I asked, and he made a face.
"I mean, he doesn't even know her."
I looked away, blushing. I was pretty sure I had loved Harry from the first time I'd met him. Getting to know him was just making me love him more. I didn't say anything, and for a moment, there was no sound except the soft rustle of someone's pet rat under the couch.
"Um," he finally said uncomfortably, "I guess we should keep going."
"Good idea," I agreed, and suddenly he was back to being silly.
"My lady, you must give me the honor of dancing with you," he said, jumping up and extending the hand that wasn't holding the script.
Was I supposed to...did he want me to...um. Wow.
"Your Highness, I couldn't refuse," I squeaked, and I thought I saw his eyes go wide for a second when I took his hand. Heh, you wish, Ginny.
"You dance beautifully, my lady," he read in a very manly Prince Charming voice, spinning me around in my pajamas. It was getting harder and harder for me to remember my lines.
Suddenly, Harry cleared his throat. "Um, Ginny?" he said, his voice cracking a bit like Ron's used to do. "It says here I'm supposed to... I mean the prince is supposed to..."
"Oh!" I felt my face grow hot. "Um, we don't have to do that. In fact, it's getting pretty late. We should stop here." I realized my hand was still in his, and I pulled it away quickly. He probably thought I had done this on purpose, that I wanted to practice the kissing scene with him.
So what if I did.
"Uh...yeah. Definitely. We should definitely get some sleep."
"Definitely. Right. Goodnight, Harry." I practically ran all the way to the girls' dorm.
"Ginny Weasley," I thought, burrowing miserably between my blankets, "You are a loser."
~
Aww poor Ginny. I don't really think she's a loser. Don't worry, Ginny, I'm rooting for you. And I'm writing this. Nice combination. :)
And, of course, J. K. Rowling owns these fantabulous characters that I so love to manipulate. Please don't sue. :)
Glass Slippers
by Scabbers
Chapter 4- Ginny
It's funny, the things that happen to you. I never thought I'd get to meet Harry Potter, for one thing, the boy who saved us all while he was still in diapers. I grew up hearing his name and everything about him, from the names of his parents to the shape of his scar. And now he's my brother's best friend.
I knew about Cinderella, too, before this play. My dad brought home a fairy tale book for me once, when I was very little, one that had belonged to real Muggle kids and everything. I loved that book so much, and Cinderella was my favorite. I always made my mum read it to me before I went to bed, even though I had the whole thing memorized.
And here I was now, struggling to memorize it again in its entirety.
But I didn't mind the long hours spent poring over my script, reciting my lines in my head, then checking to make sure I got them right. It was nice, really, having another identity I could sort of slip into whenever real life got too boring or stressful, or just plain crappy. Sometimes it was much more pleasant being Cinderella than Ginny Weasley.
Like tonight, for instance. Some stupid stuff from today had put me in such a foul mood that I couldn't sleep, so I just crept down to the common room in my favorite yellow pajamas to read my lines to myself. "Do you think I'll get to meet the prince? I wonder if he's handsome."
Justin was good-looking in his own way, I decided. Probably better looking than Harry Potter- older looking, definitely. But then, Harry had those eyes...
Not that it mattered, anyway, the way he was always looking at Cho Chang. He knocked over Ron's juice today, staring at her. It reminded me of a million spills of my own, especially when he was around, and it just made me feel embarrassed and miserable all at the same time.
But I wasn't going to think about that right now. I was Cinderella, and my fuzzy yellow slippers were really made of the sparkliest, most delicate glass. I closed my eyes and whispered my next line. So far, I had gotten practically every word right.
"Talking to yourself?" asked a familiar voice. I opened my eyes, startled. Fantastic, it was Harry Potter. I was looking for another opportunity to humiliate myself before bedtime.
I looked at him, and tried to ignore the way my stomach was getting all knotted up. "Hey, Harry. What are you doing up this late?"
Something flashed in his eyes, I'm sure of it, but he shrugged it away. "Couldn't sleep. Mind if I join you?" I shook my head, trying to cover my reddening face with my script. He settled down next to me on the couch, cross legged, our knees just barely touching. "So, you must have a lot of lines, huh."
I tried to think of some witty response, but ninety-five percent of my brain was focused on that one spot on the tip of my knee, where my pajamas touched his. "Um...yeah, I guess I do."
That's right, Ginny, you have lots and lots of lines. So stop obsessing over Harry Potter and study them. And turn your script right side up.
But it was hard enough not thinking about him when I wasn't sitting next to him on a couch in the common room, with our knees touching.
"I could quiz you...I mean, if you want." He rubbed that lightning bolt scar on his forehead, expression revealing nothing.
"Oh, okay. That would be great," I managed. I handed him the script, open to the page I had been practicing before he arrived. "You don't mind reading the godmother's part, do you?"
He regarded me seriously. "Ginny, I was born to play the godmother." God, he was adorable.
"Super. So I guess we could start right here then." And since when did I start using words like "super"? Arg.
"Okay, ready?" he asked. I nodded, and he began in a ridiculous falsetto godmother voice, "Oh, Godmother, I don't know how to thank you!" He fluttered his eyelashes at me over the script.
"Uh, that was my line," I said, giggling, and he actually blushed a bit. "Oh. Right. Moving on, then."
He readopted the falsetto voice, and reminded me earnestly that I must be back when the clock struck midnight.
"Don't worry, Godmother, I won't forget." I felt very pleased with myself for remembering my lines, even in the face of the ultimate distraction. To my surprise, however, I began to feel somewhat at ease, and actually found myself showing off a bit as we read through the scene.
"Hey, the ballroom part is next," said Harry, "Do you want me to be the prince?"
"Why not?" I said, trying to look nonchalant. I very much wanted him to be the prince.
"Okay, we'll skip to the part where you come in." He flipped the page. "Blah blah blah, okay, here we are. My lady, I couldn't help but notice you as you entered the room. Your face is familiar to me somehow, yet surely I would remember having encountered such a beautiful- is this guy for real?"
"You don't think it's at all sweet?" I asked, and he made a face.
"I mean, he doesn't even know her."
I looked away, blushing. I was pretty sure I had loved Harry from the first time I'd met him. Getting to know him was just making me love him more. I didn't say anything, and for a moment, there was no sound except the soft rustle of someone's pet rat under the couch.
"Um," he finally said uncomfortably, "I guess we should keep going."
"Good idea," I agreed, and suddenly he was back to being silly.
"My lady, you must give me the honor of dancing with you," he said, jumping up and extending the hand that wasn't holding the script.
Was I supposed to...did he want me to...um. Wow.
"Your Highness, I couldn't refuse," I squeaked, and I thought I saw his eyes go wide for a second when I took his hand. Heh, you wish, Ginny.
"You dance beautifully, my lady," he read in a very manly Prince Charming voice, spinning me around in my pajamas. It was getting harder and harder for me to remember my lines.
Suddenly, Harry cleared his throat. "Um, Ginny?" he said, his voice cracking a bit like Ron's used to do. "It says here I'm supposed to... I mean the prince is supposed to..."
"Oh!" I felt my face grow hot. "Um, we don't have to do that. In fact, it's getting pretty late. We should stop here." I realized my hand was still in his, and I pulled it away quickly. He probably thought I had done this on purpose, that I wanted to practice the kissing scene with him.
So what if I did.
"Uh...yeah. Definitely. We should definitely get some sleep."
"Definitely. Right. Goodnight, Harry." I practically ran all the way to the girls' dorm.
"Ginny Weasley," I thought, burrowing miserably between my blankets, "You are a loser."
~
Aww poor Ginny. I don't really think she's a loser. Don't worry, Ginny, I'm rooting for you. And I'm writing this. Nice combination. :)