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Harry was too ashamed at his immaturity to apologize to her later at breakfast. She blantantly ignored him anyway, reaching across his plate to grab the orange juice instead of asking him to pass it her way. She 'accidentally' spilled some on him in the process. Harry yelped. Ginny shrugged.
"Ginny-!" Mrs. Weasley scolded. She furrowed her brow at her daughter's lack of an apology. "At least offer him your napkin!"
Ginny glared at Harry instead, daring him to ask. The stared each down for a moment before he looked away and said,
"It's alright, Mrs, Weasley. Got one right here", and proceeded to mop himself off.
Ron shook his head but didn't say anything. He knew his chum had some how pissed Ginny off - and when Ginny was pissed, she was ruthless. He had once made Ginny so angry she charmed his chess set to tapdance across the board instead of staying on the squares- she wouldn't even fix it back- he had had to buy a new one.
...But at least she hadn't ignored him when he asked for the marmalade three times.
Fred and George weren't too happy with Harry and Ron either, and scowled at them all through breakfast. When Harry went for the last pancake, George challenged him silently, fork poised and ready to stab. They unblinkingly duelled for it.
While eyes were narrowed and faces were being made, Fred's knife swooped in unnoticed, speared it and plopped it on his plate. He munched innocently while George and Harry shot daggers at him.
Mr. Weasley, completely unaware of the ill-tempered mood hanging over the breakfast table, hummed "God Save the Queen" to himself as he buttered his toast.
"Splendid day, isn't it?" He asked pleasantly, and he mistook the odd stares he was getting from the rest of the table as "teenage morning faces".
----------------------------
Back upstairs, Harry and Ron got dressed. They'd gotten so comfortable with each other, what with sharing the same room for most of the year, that it was never awkward for the two. (Especially since Ron didn't know about the boxers.)
They were quiet for a time, Harry staring off absently while Ron stole glances at him, trying guess what he was thinking. The Great Harry Potter's thoughts were unmistakably readable on his face.
"Are you upset? About the thing with Ginny?" he asked, carefully.
"Mmm." murmured Harry obtusely. Buttons can be difficult when your fingers are sticky.
Ron paused a moment and went on. "Because she may be mad now, but believe me, she gets over these things fa-" he stopped himself. No sense in lying. The tapdancing chessmen he still kept in a his dresser were proof of that. "E-eventually", he finished. Ginny was Ginny. Eventually could mean tomorrow, or in 6 months.
Harry didn't respond, and Ron thought it best to drop it. He busied himself with hiding some parchment he'd carelessly left laying out on his bed, and prayed to Merlin Harry hadn't seen them. He didn't want ANYONE seeing these, especially his best friend.
Apprehensively, he stuffed the incriminating papers in one of the many magazines scattered about, then turned to Harry and said brightly, "Up for some Qudditch?"
-----------------------------
Grateful to have his mind off something besides Ginny's witchiness ( No pun), Harry let Quidditch take over his senses. Ron, who desperately wanted to make the House Team this year, practiced as Keeper in front of a goal (a tree trunk that divided into a V). Harry tried scoring against him using the head of an old doll that had separated from it's body and Ron stopped most of the shots. But was it because of the long, flowing doll-hair creating wind resistance, Harry's poor Chaser skills, or just Ron's good eye, neither of them could say.
When his own turn came, Harry felt almost cheerful as he swerved and ducked through shrubbery and low lying branches, while Ron hurled apples in different directions for him to catch. He felt like a bumble bee, zooming around. Out of ear shot of Ron, he made little buzzing noises to himself. 'I think really am stark raving mad', he thought, but he was enjoying himself just as well.
Ron began throwing farther and farther. He pitched an apple over the roof and made Harry fly around the side of The Burrow to catch it. The apple was caught right outside Ron's window.
Noticing this, Harry hovered closer on his broom and peered in, curious as to what the orange eyesore looked like from outside. Very different he noted, in fact, it almost looked pinkish. Squinting in the sun, he could make out various shapes he assumed were furniture, the messy jumble of papers and books, and the red mop in the corner through the lace curtains.
"Ron doesn't have lace curtains..." He murmered, rather mystified at how different things looked from his new perspective. Without warning, the mop turned around, and it wasn't a mop at all.
An ear-splitting screech echoed throughout The Burrow.
"Uh oh", called Ron from the backyard.
"Uh oh", chorused Fred and George in their room.
"Uh oh", muttered Mrs. Weasley from the kitchen.
"Oh bloody HELL!", cried Harry.
-----------------------------
+A/N+ Sorry such a short chapter. if i get more reviews, ill write longer and quicker. ive got review envy kids! cure me!
*Morning face is the face you make in the morning, when its sunny and your eyes are squinty and your hair is fuzzy and you're grumpy because its morning, and mornings are the hours of evil. That is morning face.
.
Harry was too ashamed at his immaturity to apologize to her later at breakfast. She blantantly ignored him anyway, reaching across his plate to grab the orange juice instead of asking him to pass it her way. She 'accidentally' spilled some on him in the process. Harry yelped. Ginny shrugged.
"Ginny-!" Mrs. Weasley scolded. She furrowed her brow at her daughter's lack of an apology. "At least offer him your napkin!"
Ginny glared at Harry instead, daring him to ask. The stared each down for a moment before he looked away and said,
"It's alright, Mrs, Weasley. Got one right here", and proceeded to mop himself off.
Ron shook his head but didn't say anything. He knew his chum had some how pissed Ginny off - and when Ginny was pissed, she was ruthless. He had once made Ginny so angry she charmed his chess set to tapdance across the board instead of staying on the squares- she wouldn't even fix it back- he had had to buy a new one.
...But at least she hadn't ignored him when he asked for the marmalade three times.
Fred and George weren't too happy with Harry and Ron either, and scowled at them all through breakfast. When Harry went for the last pancake, George challenged him silently, fork poised and ready to stab. They unblinkingly duelled for it.
While eyes were narrowed and faces were being made, Fred's knife swooped in unnoticed, speared it and plopped it on his plate. He munched innocently while George and Harry shot daggers at him.
Mr. Weasley, completely unaware of the ill-tempered mood hanging over the breakfast table, hummed "God Save the Queen" to himself as he buttered his toast.
"Splendid day, isn't it?" He asked pleasantly, and he mistook the odd stares he was getting from the rest of the table as "teenage morning faces".
----------------------------
Back upstairs, Harry and Ron got dressed. They'd gotten so comfortable with each other, what with sharing the same room for most of the year, that it was never awkward for the two. (Especially since Ron didn't know about the boxers.)
They were quiet for a time, Harry staring off absently while Ron stole glances at him, trying guess what he was thinking. The Great Harry Potter's thoughts were unmistakably readable on his face.
"Are you upset? About the thing with Ginny?" he asked, carefully.
"Mmm." murmured Harry obtusely. Buttons can be difficult when your fingers are sticky.
Ron paused a moment and went on. "Because she may be mad now, but believe me, she gets over these things fa-" he stopped himself. No sense in lying. The tapdancing chessmen he still kept in a his dresser were proof of that. "E-eventually", he finished. Ginny was Ginny. Eventually could mean tomorrow, or in 6 months.
Harry didn't respond, and Ron thought it best to drop it. He busied himself with hiding some parchment he'd carelessly left laying out on his bed, and prayed to Merlin Harry hadn't seen them. He didn't want ANYONE seeing these, especially his best friend.
Apprehensively, he stuffed the incriminating papers in one of the many magazines scattered about, then turned to Harry and said brightly, "Up for some Qudditch?"
-----------------------------
Grateful to have his mind off something besides Ginny's witchiness ( No pun), Harry let Quidditch take over his senses. Ron, who desperately wanted to make the House Team this year, practiced as Keeper in front of a goal (a tree trunk that divided into a V). Harry tried scoring against him using the head of an old doll that had separated from it's body and Ron stopped most of the shots. But was it because of the long, flowing doll-hair creating wind resistance, Harry's poor Chaser skills, or just Ron's good eye, neither of them could say.
When his own turn came, Harry felt almost cheerful as he swerved and ducked through shrubbery and low lying branches, while Ron hurled apples in different directions for him to catch. He felt like a bumble bee, zooming around. Out of ear shot of Ron, he made little buzzing noises to himself. 'I think really am stark raving mad', he thought, but he was enjoying himself just as well.
Ron began throwing farther and farther. He pitched an apple over the roof and made Harry fly around the side of The Burrow to catch it. The apple was caught right outside Ron's window.
Noticing this, Harry hovered closer on his broom and peered in, curious as to what the orange eyesore looked like from outside. Very different he noted, in fact, it almost looked pinkish. Squinting in the sun, he could make out various shapes he assumed were furniture, the messy jumble of papers and books, and the red mop in the corner through the lace curtains.
"Ron doesn't have lace curtains..." He murmered, rather mystified at how different things looked from his new perspective. Without warning, the mop turned around, and it wasn't a mop at all.
An ear-splitting screech echoed throughout The Burrow.
"Uh oh", called Ron from the backyard.
"Uh oh", chorused Fred and George in their room.
"Uh oh", muttered Mrs. Weasley from the kitchen.
"Oh bloody HELL!", cried Harry.
-----------------------------
+A/N+ Sorry such a short chapter. if i get more reviews, ill write longer and quicker. ive got review envy kids! cure me!
*Morning face is the face you make in the morning, when its sunny and your eyes are squinty and your hair is fuzzy and you're grumpy because its morning, and mornings are the hours of evil. That is morning face.
.
