Disclaimer: I don't own it! I wish I did… maybe I can steal a little piece of J.K's masterpiece? Just a little? Ok! Ok! -runs and hides as little lawyers with brooms run after her- Everything except the characters you don't recognize belongs to J.K Rowling and other people.
Definition of a Mary Sue: A story with the tall, slim, beautiful, popular, gentile, sweet heroine. The heroine always manages to fight off thousands of bad guys, while being so beautiful she catches the eye of one of her fellow characters and never gets wounded. Or if she does, she never has scars.
Definition of a Non Mary Sue: the exact opposite
"talking"
'thinking'
If You Rope Me, You Can Have Me
"Ginny, Ginny! Ginny come on, wake up!" shouted Alanna, as she leaned over her best friends bed.
"mmph"
"Virginia Abigail Weasley! Get your lazy ass up out of that bed!"
Suddenly there was a loud shriek and a splash of water.
"Serves you right you lazy bones," came a voice from the inside of the room of a bunkhouse. "We have to get to breakfast in ten minutes, so get in that shower. NOW!"
"Alright, alright! I'm going!"
Ginny grabbed a pair of jeans, a Dixie Outfitters shirt, and a pair of boots from her closet. She had picked up a few dressing habits from her "cowpoke" friends. Her shirt had "forget the bull, ride the cowboy" on the back, and a rebel flag on the front, her jeans were worn and had a few holes in them, and her boots… well… they were barn work boots. Ginny had grown in looks, and she had also grown in self confidence and had blossomed like a rose in the spring. (And, before the author gets to mushy and ruins this fanfic, she's going to quit describing Ginny's beauty).
She sighed, 'another day at work'
Virginia Weasley worked at a horse farm in America, after she had graduated from Hogwarts she had come over to go to college and found a love of horses instead. She now worked at a ranch called Whispering Wind Stables and loved every minute of it. No matter how much she complained.
Ginny muttered a drying spell on her long auburn hair and put it in a ponytail as she sat on her bed and pulled on her boots.
"Hey Alanna, What horses are we riding today?"
"Well," a muffled voice replied. "We're getting a new customer, he's supposed to be loaded, and he's bringing in a few horses today."
Alanna stepped out of her closet as she pulled on her clothes. The best friends walked down the street to the corner diner for breakfast, thinking about the little town and its people.
"What's his name?" Ginny broke the comfortable silence, a wondering look on her face.
"I think it's something like Jake McCoy or something like that, I don't know but I heard Bo talking about it earlier."
Bo was their loving nick name for the head trainer at Whispering Wind Stables, his real name was Nathan Leon, but he absolutely despised it and asked them to call him Bo. Actually, he got the nick name because he was bowlegged as heck, and Ginny liked to call him that. They pushed open the door to the tiny diner as the bell jingled cheerfully behind them.
"Miss Martha! Can we have our usual?" Alanna called.
"Hey pumpkins!" called a sweet voice from the kitchens. "Of course you can, have I ever refused you?" asked a little old lady coming in from the back rubbing her floury hands off on her apron.
"Nope! Never!" cried Ginny cheerfully.
Just then the door bell jingled again and the two girls looked up to see Bo walking through the door.
"Bo- Bo!" Ginny exclaimed, jumping from her seat in a corner booth. "I heard about the new customer, is he heavy shod, light shod, trail pleasure, barrels, or reining?"
"Well hello little ladies! I don't know yet Gin, he hasn't told me what he wants them trained for. He wants to see the facilities first. He should be meeting us here in a few minutes."
The trio sat and talked companionably over breakfast as they waited on their client to appear. The door jingled yet again as someone new walked in.
"Ah! Here he is, our new customer. Ginny Weasley and Alanna Morrisett, meet Draco Malfoy."
Ginny's mouth dropped open in shock as her eyes grew bigger and bigger.
