A/N Sorry this took so long, and thanks to everyone who reviewed. Really.
The last few days of vacation passed quickly, and nothing spectacular happened. I mean, Fred and George played some rather interesting pranks, but I've come to expect that of them, and it's not out of the ordinary for me to wake up to green hair or the grotesque but familiar smell of dungbombs. I guess they're like a disease; after you've been around them long enough, you become immune. Or you die. I think I prefer the former.
The night before we left, mum came in to remind me that I hadn't yet given her my prefects badge to be sewn onto my robes. Yes, that year I was to join the "proud" legion of The Prefects, an honor held by almost everyone in my family. And we all know the two exceptions to the rule. I told her that I'd sew it on myself, and she looked skeptical, but after much cajoling, she gave in and left me alone. I undressed quickly, and got into my nightgown. Hermione would be upstairs at any moment and I didn't really feel like talking to anyone. I heard footsteps coming upstairs, and made a running leap for the bed. Unluckily for me, my bed is complete rubbish, and, as I landed every so gracefully upon the mattress, a large cracking sound erupted from the wooden frame, and I found myself considerably closer to the floor. The door opened and I saw the worried faces of Ron, Harry and Hermione staring in at me. I glared back at them, feeling rather embarrassed by my predicament. And possibly by the fact that I would need some assistance getting to my feet.
"Help?" I said, not intending to say only one word. A witty comment had been on the tip of my tongue, but somewhere between leaping off of my tongue and jumping out of my mouth, it had gotten lost.
"Oh Ginny, are you alright?" Hermione asked, walking swiftly over to me and grabbing both of my hands in an attempt to pull me up. I nodded, trying to make sure my nightgown didn't snag on anything as I stood up.
"Bed." I said, again not being able to utter more than one word. Mentally, I cursed myself, wondering about my sudden condition.
"It's easy enough to fix." Hermione said, then a look of frustration crossed her face. "But we can't fix it. No magic until tomorrow, when term starts."
I groaned. Calling mum up to fix the bed, and explaining to her how I had broken it (doing something that she had told me not to do) did not seem like the ideal solution to my problems. Maybe I could get Fred and George to do it. They had graduated, and if Hermione told them the spell. Finding my voice I spoke "Maybe Fred or George could do it."
Harry nodded, and for a moment I felt a triumphant pang- he'd agreed with me. Then I mentally kicked myself around. I was over that rather immature stage in my teenage development.
"I'll go get them." Ron said, leaving the room quickly. I stood, looking at the giant sagging spot in my bed; really, the whole thing seemed to have cracked in half. I suppose it had it coming, though. I don't weigh that much, but I've been leaping onto my bed since I was five. The mattress had a delightful springy effect that sent me several inches into the air.
"Ummm…" I said, more to myself than to anyone in the room. Harry made me feel uncomfortable, and, to be perfectly honest, Hermione seemed a little formidable, somewhat like my mum, or Professor McGonagall, a stern dissaproving look on her face.
"How did it break, Ginny?" she asked, reminding me even more of mum.
"I jumped on it." I answered truthfully. It seemed pointless to deny what I had done, I was a terrible liar.
"I see." Hermione pursed her lips. At first, I thought she was angry, but then I realized that she was trying not to laugh at me. In fact, a brief inspection of Harry's features revealed that the same struggle was occurring with him. I frowned. If I dislike anything, it is being laughed at. I am not the joker my brothers are, I rarely do things to be humorous, because, being the little sister of Fred and George, everyone has heard/seen everything before, and if I have learnt one thing from any acting experiences I may have had, it is that people do not like repeat performances.
"Well go ahead and laugh if you have to, but don't hide it if you think it's going to make me mad!" I snapped, my mind coming to me for once.
"We're not trying to laugh at you Ginny." Hermione said, a giggle escaping her lips.
"Besides, your already mad, aren't you?" Harry asked. It amazed me that he knew. I am quite good at keeping my emotions under control.
"Hardly." I replied, as Ron returned with both of my brothers (as a pair, they are worse. One is tolerable, two are quite a lot to deal with)
"Ginny, Ginny, Ginny" George said, smiling at me as he shook his head "What did you go and break now?"
"Isn't it obvious George?" I demanded, sweeping my hand in the direction of the broken bed.
"Sorry. It's easy to fix, Ginny dear. " Fred said, smiling maliciously, his expression clearly stated 'But what will you give us if we do it?' Before he could ask the question, I fished out an unopened bag of Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans that I had been saving, and held it out, if not somewhat reluctantly.
"Alright then, Hermione, what's the charm?" asked my easily charmed brother. Hermione told him, and in no time, my bed was nicely fixed. I sighed, and climbed beneath the covers, pulling them over my head.
"Goodnight Hermione."
"Nigh Ron, Harry."
"Night. G'night Fred and George."
"Yeah, night."
Where had all the goodnight Ginny's gone to? I wondered as I drifted off to sleep.
Oh how I hate train rides. Most other years, I'd been kicked out of the compartment my older brother and his friends shared. But, thankfully, that year they let me stay. I sat quietly on one of the seats, playing with my stupid cat's tail, and wondering where my friends were.
"Have you named it yet?" Ron demanded, breaking my concentration.
"No." I said peevishly.
"Is it a boy or a girl?" Harry asked. I shrugged.
"You mean you didn't ask, didn't check." Ron demanded me, looking incredulous.
"May I remind you that when I bought it it was attached to my finger, and that my cat happens to like its privacy." I hissed at him.
"I'll check then, if your so scared to." Ron told me, reaching for my cat. I smirked, and handed it over. As Ron held up my cat, the door to our compartment slid open, distracting everyone except my brother, who quickly checked, and handed it back to me. I let the smile melt from my face, it would have been fun to watch my brother battle with my cat. The two people who entered the compartment were the long lost friends whose absence I had been lamenting. Harvey (who went by Harvey and nothing else.) and Colin Creevey, who seemed to be having a hard time. He'd promised me no more picture taking of Harry, and it looked as if he was having problems restraining himself. Harvey plunked herself down beside me, and looked at my cat.
"Ugly cat." She said, grinning. I grinned back. Harvey was my best friend, and certainly odd. She had blonde-brown hair that stretched to just above her waist, and blue-gray eyes that were always wide and innocent when she was confronted with an accusation, but which sparkled with mirth any other time. I'll admit, my friendship with her came of the raging jealousy I had felt towards her in my first year. She was everything I had wanted to be, and it hadn't helped that Harry had cast a couple of appreciative looks her way. But after a rather violent fight with her (People really do get mad when you ruin their new dress robes) we became fast friends. We hadn't even fought since.
"Whats it's name?" asked Colin.
"It doesn't have a name." I replied
"Is it a boy or a girl?" asked Harvey, looking distastefully at It. I looked enquiringly at Ron.
"Boy." He said
"How about Caesar?" Harvey asked me. The cat sneezed, and I made a face as my hand became somewhat damper wondering how well cat saliva moisturized.
"No, not Caesar." I said, wiping my hand on the cats fur.
"Brutus?" Harvey said again. I looked at her.
"I was reading Julius Caesar this summer." She admitted. Earlier that year, we had discovered Shakespeare, a muggle writer, whose plays were quite good.
"How about Hermione?" I demanded, taking a cheap shot "I am sure that's what you'd name your cat Ronniekins" Needless to say, Ron didn't appreciated my dig
"How about Harry?" Ron teased. I felt my ears go red, and glared at my brother, as I contemplated throwing my nameless cat at his face. "Here Harry, come here Harry." Ron called to the cat. To my horror, it jumped off of my lap, and ran towards Ron.
"You idiot! I don't want his name to be Harry!" I yelled at my brother, who was grinning like an idiot.
"Looks like it is." Ron said. I frowned.
"Come here….Elton" I called, wriggling my fingers at my feline, which had attached itself to Ron's left shoe. The Cat gave me a disapproving look and issued a growl.
"Oh great, thank you Ron you flaming imbecile! I really wanted a cat named Harry!." I said, anger entering my voice.
"Oh Ginny, it's not so bad." Hermione said reasonably. I snorted. She was just defending Ron because she liked him, and because he was insufferable when he was angry. But I kept my opinions to myself, and grabbed Harry…the cat Harry…and tried to pry him off of my brothers foot.
The rest of the train ride was utterly boring. Harvey and I talked, and then Harvey and Harry and Ron talked about Quidditch, because they all belong to the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Colin disappeared, and then returned with Dennis, his brother, who I dislike immensely because he has a habit of following me around and telling me how smart and pretty I am. In my more immature days, I let him do it, hoping to make Harry jealous. But as I am way beyond that kind of childish behavior, I no longer appreciate it.
Finally we pulled into the station, and we all got out, and boarded carriages (in the pouring rain), me clutching my cat who had gone ballistic. I I think it rains every year just to spite me. I hate rain. Harry the cat was indifferent, which made me even angrier. Why does everything I own have to be so stuid?