Still don't own any of these characters and I didn't think them up. My
luck isn't that good.
Authors Note: There are many varying opinions on Ginny's real name. After reading the post on FA, I chose the one I like the best. There is nothing that I know of from JKR on this topic. Let me know if you of anything!
Chapter 5
A Bump in the Road of Happiness
"People take different roads seeking fulfilment and happiness. Just because they're not on your road doesn't mean they've gotten lost." - H. Jackson Brown, Jr.
Bill and Ron glared at each other across the sand box their sons had long since vacated. It amused the Weasley family very much to see the two brothers go at it once again but it was odd to watch the siblings take opposite sides of how they usually fought.
"She needs to stay here. What's left for her in London? We're her family. That's all that should be important," Bill raged. The family peacekeeper was so full of his own self-righteous indignation that Ginny would even think about leaving now when she had returned to the fold, he failed to realize he was constantly nitpicking at the same argument.
Ron, on the other hand, was in complete agreement with his little sister. "She knows her way back, Bill. She's a big girl. Let her go back to London. She's got commitments."
"What if something happens to her? What if she's mugged?" No one would ever forget Bill had been mugged on his last trip into London. He proceeded to tell the story anytime the city was mentioned. The poor vagrant had been scared away when the elder Weasley had pulled out his wand and hit him on the head, shouting the first thing that had come to mind. Luckily, the pink flowers sprouting from the man's ears had died and dropped out before he could prove anything had happened.
"Obviously she's smarter than you if it hasn't happened to her in the last four years. She's been smart enough to get completely lost among the Muggles without them ever knowing she wasn't one of them. Give her some credit. She's smart enough to know we aren't going to let her stay in London long." He glanced over at his sister to see if his message had registered. The best confirmation he could get that she had heard him was the angry swish of her hair as she brushed it off her shoulder.
Ginny had been trying her best to ignore not only her brothers' heated argument, but the rest of the clan gathered behind the house as well. She had started the current argument when Katherine had asked if she could visit her in London someday and she had agreed. Bill's yelp of surprise had scared most of the children back into the house and Ron's gruff reply had sent the others scurrying into their parent's arms.
"I'm not going anywhere right now so just calm down, you two. Don't you tell the children to stop arguing when they're at each other's throats like this? You two should know better. Honestly, father. You would think to look at you that you're enjoying this far too much."
"Dinna fash yourself," Fred quipped in his best Scottish accent, patting his sister's arm affectionately. "The bonnie lads are a wee put out."
"Shut it, Gred!" she shouted. "It wasn't funny when we were kids and it's not funny now. Besides, you sound like a blasted sheep when you try that accent."
"Don't use the bloody language around the bloody children," Bill swore. Fleur tried to cuff his ears and he swept her up into his arms where they proceeded to yell at each other in French until, at last, they kissed soundly and he set her back on her own two feet. Ginny tried her best not to join in the laughter but found she couldn't hold back.
"'Mione, come take my side in the argument," yelled Ron to his wife, who had just arrived back from a sudden call to a patient.
"Love to. I'm assuming we're still arguing about Charlie's horrible choice in evening attire."
"Hey, no fair. I happen to love this shirt. SaraBeth got it for me on her last outing to Jamaica. I think it looks-"
"Girly?" Fred interrupted.
"Revolting?" quipped George at the same time. The twins grinned at each other, still able to crack each other up when the moment arose.
"Katherine, come tell your Uncle Charlie what you think of his shirt," Ron called out even as he kissed his wife soundly on the lips. Ginny couldn't help but get a little nauseous at the excessive affection her brother showed her best friend at times. Their relationship, although not new even to Ginny, was going to take her some time getting used to. Married life was definitely good for Ron, bringing out the thoughtful, caring individual that Molly had always despaired would ever show up.
His little niece immediately came running from her play area in the middle of an overgrown rose bush, her hair falling out of the nice braid Hermione had helped her put in this morning. "You look like a flower garden!"
"For that statement, little girl, you will have to pay." Uncle and niece wove in and out of the family members perched on chairs and leaning against the porch railing until she finally let herself be caught and submitted to the proper tickle torture.
Ginny couldn't help but smile around at her family. The last two days had been filled with the laughter she had sorely missed in the last four years. There had been the few moments when she had looked around and seen a solitary tear or shuttered expressions of pain. They had probably been able to read the same thing on her face if they had caught her watching James brush his unruly hair out of his eyes or Katherine lecturing her cousins on the proper swish and flick method of waving a wand.
I can't stay here much longer, she thought as the family contemplated a menu for dinner. The adults were talking about taking everyone to Diagon Alley to try the newest restaurant. Shivers ran up Ginny's spine as she realized she might possibly see people she knew from her previous life if they went somewhere as populated as Diagon Alley. I'm not ready for this. Too many people. Too many memories. What do I say when someone asks me where I've been? How will I respond to their looks of pity? I can't do this without you, Neville? She jumped and looked around to see if anyone had noticed her attention lapse.
"Ginny will decide where we have dinner," Fred decided democratically, bringing the debate to a screeching halt as everyone turned their attention on her again. George was winking at her, but she hadn't followed enough of the conversation to know what her response should be to any of them.
Trying to buy some time, she blushed and stammered, "I need to powder my nose," before she ran into the house. Instead of turning down the hallway, she found herself rushing toward the front door. If this didn't work, she could always say she needed some fresh air - from the front yard. Hurrying to the end of the dirt lane, she held up her right arm and waited. She wasn't sure if it this was going to work or not but it was the only thing she could think of at the moment.
Her patience was rewarded almost immediately. The Knight Bus came to a screeching halt. "Where to?" Stan asked as she climbed on board.
"Albatross Estates." She had meant to give her apartment address but found she had no desire to return there just yet. Neville's address came out before she thought.
"Make ya'self at home, doll. Be there in a snap. Not too many other people out tonight." Not half an hour passed before she found herself deposited at the front gates of a rather dejected-looking house. She had no desire to try making her way up the crumbling steps to the sagging front door. Looking around she couldn't see much as the grounds were overflowing with foliage but she could still make out a worn path leading to the back of the house. Still in the same automatic mode she had started this journey on, she started down the path.
If Neville hadn't told her himself that he lived alone, she would have thought there was a full family living inside the house. Shouts of merriment and screams of laughter floated out of a large open French door. Peering inside, she was astounded to see a beautiful sitting room done in shades of green. The furniture and carpets appeared to be brand new, still carrying with them a stiff patina.
The commotion was coming from the door on the opposite wall, leading to a large hallway. Portraits, hanging the entire length, hollered back and forth at each other and at the lone female standing outside another open door.
"Will you all shut it! I can't hear myself think!" the woman howled, pounding her fist on the doorway. "If you don't stop right now, I'll take down all of you and store you in the attic."
"You don't have the balls!" shouted a particularly horrid man, his hands full with a turkey leg and a flagon of ale.
"Just try me, old man." The woman stomped back into the room with a last swish of her incredibly long blonde hair. That gesture seemed strangely familiar. Knowing her luck today, it probably was Lavender. Why was she in Neville's house?
Her question was answered as a small house-elf came waltzing down the hall, calling out greetings to the ancestors in the pictures. "Miss Lavender, Miss Lavender!" he called out. "Master Neville would like to have a word with you in his front room."
"You mean the horrid room with plants? I'll be along as soon as I've completed setting the wallpaper. These old houses make the switch rather stubbornly if they're not dealt with properly."
"Oh! The colour is lovely, Miss Lavender. Master Neville will take excess joy in the lightness of the room. Nothing like what is was. Nothing at all."
"Yes, well, Neville doesn't really care as long as it's different, now does he? Has he been in any of the rooms to see the truly magnificent job I've done? No! Of course not. Just like a man. Doesn't care how it looks unless it's done on time and under budget. Most of them wouldn't care if I decorated the walls with Quidditch posters and exchanged the comfortable furniture for something that reminded them of being in the forest."
The house-elf wasn't listening as he tripped past the room to a large frame. No one was occupying it at this time but he stopped and said, "Tsk- tsk. Madam, if you would but come out to see the beautiful rooms, you wouldn't be so angry with Master Neville."
"It's a waste," shrieked a voice inside the portrait. "Spending perfectly good money on perfectly fine rooms. Why, Grandmother Hegmafost decorated most of the house."
"And it's due for an update," came the answer from down the hall. "I never said you had to leave everything the way I had it, snivelling sod."
"I knew when to respect my elders, you grumpy windbag."
"Ah, you say that now but I doubt you could have said it when you were mistress of this house. All I ever heard was 'Yes, ma'am' and 'No, ma'am'. Glad to see you finally got a backbone."
The decorator stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her. "Kippie! I want nothing disturbed while I'm gone. The ottoman still refuses to keep the new fabric on and I don't want batting all over the hallway." There was complete silence until she was gone and than everyone decided to speak at once. As far as Ginny could tell, the overall consensus was split. The people either liked what Neville had decided to do or they thought Neville had messed up once again.
"Blasted young'un. Shoulda' known to leave well enough alone. Everything he touches turns to coal. The house is libel to fall down around us."
"I hope it does!" Ginny had finally had enough. She burst from the room where she had been trying to stay out of sight and proceeded to march up and down the hall. "I hope the house falls down around you all and no one bothers to come rescue you. This is an admirable thing Neville is doing. You've obviously forgotten light is infinitely better for the constitution than musty darkness. Neville obviously wants you to be happy."
A quiet harrumph stopped her tirade. Turning around, she found the portrait was no longer empty. Both women eyed each other before the older one replied, "He's doing none of this for us. The ungrateful wretch has decided he is going to install one of his many hussies here."
"Neville? Neville Longbottom? Hussies? I don't think so."
"How would you know? You might be the hussy. Unattended by a chaperone in my nephew's house. Yes, I think you are a hussy."
"And I think you're a shrew." Both women continued to stare at each other calmly. Kippie wrung his hands as he turned from one to the other, unsure how he was supposed to react to these equal shows of temper.
"Red hair is a sin in most cultures. I believe that is shows a lack of good character."
"I'm surprised you can get enough air into your lungs with your head tipped that far back. Has an insect ever flown into your nose?"
Ginny was vaguely aware of laughter. All around her, people were absorbed in the interchange.
"I don't believe you are hussy after all. I believe you are a woman of low character who has come to play with my nephew's emotions and take his money. I would be able to tell him this if he would come and visit me. As it is, he stays locked away in the front room with his precious plants."
"Why would he want to come visit you, madam, if you do nothing but tell him how horrible he is? Neville is smart enough to keep away from people who refuse to see he is honourable and steadfast."
"I see that he is honourable and steadfast. All Longbottoms are those traits. It is impossible for them to not be honourable and steadfast. How dare you imply otherwise."
Kippie choked unexpectedly as Ginny smiled her trademark grin. "An honourable man would never do anything to bring shame on his family. This house is a shame. The grounds are overgrown with weeds and the front door sags. I can only imagine how musty and damp the tapestries were before they were replaced." She shook one of the new, vibrant wall hangings lining the hallway between the pictures. It depicted a titan-haired maiden reclining on a rock above a stormy sea. It brought tears to her eyes.
Continuing with only slight hitch in her voice, she stated, "Honour is taking care of a family legacy for future generations. Steadfast is seeing the job to completion when those around you are unsupportive and mean- spirited. I can see why others have been so, but not you. Not the infamous Gran I always heard Neville praise to the sky. I would have thought better of you."
"Neville mentioned me?" The elderly lady looked shocked.
"Of course he did. You were the only parent he ever had. He worked very hard to make you proud of him while we were in school together."
"You were in school with my dear boy?"
"A year behind. He was friends with my brother."
Processing the information, the matron answered almost sheepishly, "Then you are a Weasley. I should have guessed from the beautiful hair. You look much like your grandmother and mother. Well, Genevieve, what has taken you so long to come after my grandson?"
"Excuse me?"
"I may be a portrait, you delightful child, but I know what is going on in the house. Even before I left this mortal coil, I knew Neville was working quite closely with your father and Albus to find you. I despaired that he would work himself to death many times as he searched for you, despaired that he would never be whole if he failed in his assignment."
"He found me. Now he can carry on with his life."
"And whose chin is in the clouds now? Choking on your insufferable pride, no doubt. How can he carry on with his life if his life is somewhere else? Don't think for one moment that he is doing this transformation for me or anyone else in this hallway. This is coming from somewhere deep in the boy's heart none of us have ever belonged."
Ginny hung her head and scuffed her shoe against the stiff carpet fibres. Suddenly, she didn't want to be in this house either. If the last four years had taught her nothing, they are taught her the value of hiding emotions locked inside. Being with her family had made her long to laugh but being here made her yearn to love and be loved. Making her second lightening-quick decision of the day, Ginny nodded her head at the matriarch. "I hope you learn to appreciate his efforts. Neville cannot fail anymore. He is too strong for failure."
"And you don't mind failing?"
"No, I'm very good at it. Thank you." Darting for the open door she had come through, Ginny made it out the French doors before the outcry began again. She had hoped to be well away from the house before they started but she knew she still had a jump on anyone who would come after her.
She had failed to keep track of Kippie, though. He stood just outside the doors, a large frying pan in his hands. "Don't move or I will hit on the head."
Laughing at the utterly absurd fierceness in his small, pinched face, Ginny attempted to run around him. "You can't reach my head. You're too short."
"Not your head. Kippie's head. Kippie will keep you here or he will be forced to bring pain."
Knowing enough about these pureblood's servants to understand he was utterly sincere, she was forced to stop where she was. "Please don't, Kippie. I didn't mean to come here. Please don't tell Neville. He doesn't need to know I was here."
"He already does."
Ginny whipped her head around and stared at the scowling man behind her. "I'm so sorry, Neville. I really didn't mean to come here but I couldn't think of anywhere else I could go. Please don't be angry. I'll leave now."
"I'm not letting you leave so you can just forget that particularly brilliant idea."
Authors Note: There are many varying opinions on Ginny's real name. After reading the post on FA, I chose the one I like the best. There is nothing that I know of from JKR on this topic. Let me know if you of anything!
Chapter 5
A Bump in the Road of Happiness
"People take different roads seeking fulfilment and happiness. Just because they're not on your road doesn't mean they've gotten lost." - H. Jackson Brown, Jr.
Bill and Ron glared at each other across the sand box their sons had long since vacated. It amused the Weasley family very much to see the two brothers go at it once again but it was odd to watch the siblings take opposite sides of how they usually fought.
"She needs to stay here. What's left for her in London? We're her family. That's all that should be important," Bill raged. The family peacekeeper was so full of his own self-righteous indignation that Ginny would even think about leaving now when she had returned to the fold, he failed to realize he was constantly nitpicking at the same argument.
Ron, on the other hand, was in complete agreement with his little sister. "She knows her way back, Bill. She's a big girl. Let her go back to London. She's got commitments."
"What if something happens to her? What if she's mugged?" No one would ever forget Bill had been mugged on his last trip into London. He proceeded to tell the story anytime the city was mentioned. The poor vagrant had been scared away when the elder Weasley had pulled out his wand and hit him on the head, shouting the first thing that had come to mind. Luckily, the pink flowers sprouting from the man's ears had died and dropped out before he could prove anything had happened.
"Obviously she's smarter than you if it hasn't happened to her in the last four years. She's been smart enough to get completely lost among the Muggles without them ever knowing she wasn't one of them. Give her some credit. She's smart enough to know we aren't going to let her stay in London long." He glanced over at his sister to see if his message had registered. The best confirmation he could get that she had heard him was the angry swish of her hair as she brushed it off her shoulder.
Ginny had been trying her best to ignore not only her brothers' heated argument, but the rest of the clan gathered behind the house as well. She had started the current argument when Katherine had asked if she could visit her in London someday and she had agreed. Bill's yelp of surprise had scared most of the children back into the house and Ron's gruff reply had sent the others scurrying into their parent's arms.
"I'm not going anywhere right now so just calm down, you two. Don't you tell the children to stop arguing when they're at each other's throats like this? You two should know better. Honestly, father. You would think to look at you that you're enjoying this far too much."
"Dinna fash yourself," Fred quipped in his best Scottish accent, patting his sister's arm affectionately. "The bonnie lads are a wee put out."
"Shut it, Gred!" she shouted. "It wasn't funny when we were kids and it's not funny now. Besides, you sound like a blasted sheep when you try that accent."
"Don't use the bloody language around the bloody children," Bill swore. Fleur tried to cuff his ears and he swept her up into his arms where they proceeded to yell at each other in French until, at last, they kissed soundly and he set her back on her own two feet. Ginny tried her best not to join in the laughter but found she couldn't hold back.
"'Mione, come take my side in the argument," yelled Ron to his wife, who had just arrived back from a sudden call to a patient.
"Love to. I'm assuming we're still arguing about Charlie's horrible choice in evening attire."
"Hey, no fair. I happen to love this shirt. SaraBeth got it for me on her last outing to Jamaica. I think it looks-"
"Girly?" Fred interrupted.
"Revolting?" quipped George at the same time. The twins grinned at each other, still able to crack each other up when the moment arose.
"Katherine, come tell your Uncle Charlie what you think of his shirt," Ron called out even as he kissed his wife soundly on the lips. Ginny couldn't help but get a little nauseous at the excessive affection her brother showed her best friend at times. Their relationship, although not new even to Ginny, was going to take her some time getting used to. Married life was definitely good for Ron, bringing out the thoughtful, caring individual that Molly had always despaired would ever show up.
His little niece immediately came running from her play area in the middle of an overgrown rose bush, her hair falling out of the nice braid Hermione had helped her put in this morning. "You look like a flower garden!"
"For that statement, little girl, you will have to pay." Uncle and niece wove in and out of the family members perched on chairs and leaning against the porch railing until she finally let herself be caught and submitted to the proper tickle torture.
Ginny couldn't help but smile around at her family. The last two days had been filled with the laughter she had sorely missed in the last four years. There had been the few moments when she had looked around and seen a solitary tear or shuttered expressions of pain. They had probably been able to read the same thing on her face if they had caught her watching James brush his unruly hair out of his eyes or Katherine lecturing her cousins on the proper swish and flick method of waving a wand.
I can't stay here much longer, she thought as the family contemplated a menu for dinner. The adults were talking about taking everyone to Diagon Alley to try the newest restaurant. Shivers ran up Ginny's spine as she realized she might possibly see people she knew from her previous life if they went somewhere as populated as Diagon Alley. I'm not ready for this. Too many people. Too many memories. What do I say when someone asks me where I've been? How will I respond to their looks of pity? I can't do this without you, Neville? She jumped and looked around to see if anyone had noticed her attention lapse.
"Ginny will decide where we have dinner," Fred decided democratically, bringing the debate to a screeching halt as everyone turned their attention on her again. George was winking at her, but she hadn't followed enough of the conversation to know what her response should be to any of them.
Trying to buy some time, she blushed and stammered, "I need to powder my nose," before she ran into the house. Instead of turning down the hallway, she found herself rushing toward the front door. If this didn't work, she could always say she needed some fresh air - from the front yard. Hurrying to the end of the dirt lane, she held up her right arm and waited. She wasn't sure if it this was going to work or not but it was the only thing she could think of at the moment.
Her patience was rewarded almost immediately. The Knight Bus came to a screeching halt. "Where to?" Stan asked as she climbed on board.
"Albatross Estates." She had meant to give her apartment address but found she had no desire to return there just yet. Neville's address came out before she thought.
"Make ya'self at home, doll. Be there in a snap. Not too many other people out tonight." Not half an hour passed before she found herself deposited at the front gates of a rather dejected-looking house. She had no desire to try making her way up the crumbling steps to the sagging front door. Looking around she couldn't see much as the grounds were overflowing with foliage but she could still make out a worn path leading to the back of the house. Still in the same automatic mode she had started this journey on, she started down the path.
If Neville hadn't told her himself that he lived alone, she would have thought there was a full family living inside the house. Shouts of merriment and screams of laughter floated out of a large open French door. Peering inside, she was astounded to see a beautiful sitting room done in shades of green. The furniture and carpets appeared to be brand new, still carrying with them a stiff patina.
The commotion was coming from the door on the opposite wall, leading to a large hallway. Portraits, hanging the entire length, hollered back and forth at each other and at the lone female standing outside another open door.
"Will you all shut it! I can't hear myself think!" the woman howled, pounding her fist on the doorway. "If you don't stop right now, I'll take down all of you and store you in the attic."
"You don't have the balls!" shouted a particularly horrid man, his hands full with a turkey leg and a flagon of ale.
"Just try me, old man." The woman stomped back into the room with a last swish of her incredibly long blonde hair. That gesture seemed strangely familiar. Knowing her luck today, it probably was Lavender. Why was she in Neville's house?
Her question was answered as a small house-elf came waltzing down the hall, calling out greetings to the ancestors in the pictures. "Miss Lavender, Miss Lavender!" he called out. "Master Neville would like to have a word with you in his front room."
"You mean the horrid room with plants? I'll be along as soon as I've completed setting the wallpaper. These old houses make the switch rather stubbornly if they're not dealt with properly."
"Oh! The colour is lovely, Miss Lavender. Master Neville will take excess joy in the lightness of the room. Nothing like what is was. Nothing at all."
"Yes, well, Neville doesn't really care as long as it's different, now does he? Has he been in any of the rooms to see the truly magnificent job I've done? No! Of course not. Just like a man. Doesn't care how it looks unless it's done on time and under budget. Most of them wouldn't care if I decorated the walls with Quidditch posters and exchanged the comfortable furniture for something that reminded them of being in the forest."
The house-elf wasn't listening as he tripped past the room to a large frame. No one was occupying it at this time but he stopped and said, "Tsk- tsk. Madam, if you would but come out to see the beautiful rooms, you wouldn't be so angry with Master Neville."
"It's a waste," shrieked a voice inside the portrait. "Spending perfectly good money on perfectly fine rooms. Why, Grandmother Hegmafost decorated most of the house."
"And it's due for an update," came the answer from down the hall. "I never said you had to leave everything the way I had it, snivelling sod."
"I knew when to respect my elders, you grumpy windbag."
"Ah, you say that now but I doubt you could have said it when you were mistress of this house. All I ever heard was 'Yes, ma'am' and 'No, ma'am'. Glad to see you finally got a backbone."
The decorator stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her. "Kippie! I want nothing disturbed while I'm gone. The ottoman still refuses to keep the new fabric on and I don't want batting all over the hallway." There was complete silence until she was gone and than everyone decided to speak at once. As far as Ginny could tell, the overall consensus was split. The people either liked what Neville had decided to do or they thought Neville had messed up once again.
"Blasted young'un. Shoulda' known to leave well enough alone. Everything he touches turns to coal. The house is libel to fall down around us."
"I hope it does!" Ginny had finally had enough. She burst from the room where she had been trying to stay out of sight and proceeded to march up and down the hall. "I hope the house falls down around you all and no one bothers to come rescue you. This is an admirable thing Neville is doing. You've obviously forgotten light is infinitely better for the constitution than musty darkness. Neville obviously wants you to be happy."
A quiet harrumph stopped her tirade. Turning around, she found the portrait was no longer empty. Both women eyed each other before the older one replied, "He's doing none of this for us. The ungrateful wretch has decided he is going to install one of his many hussies here."
"Neville? Neville Longbottom? Hussies? I don't think so."
"How would you know? You might be the hussy. Unattended by a chaperone in my nephew's house. Yes, I think you are a hussy."
"And I think you're a shrew." Both women continued to stare at each other calmly. Kippie wrung his hands as he turned from one to the other, unsure how he was supposed to react to these equal shows of temper.
"Red hair is a sin in most cultures. I believe that is shows a lack of good character."
"I'm surprised you can get enough air into your lungs with your head tipped that far back. Has an insect ever flown into your nose?"
Ginny was vaguely aware of laughter. All around her, people were absorbed in the interchange.
"I don't believe you are hussy after all. I believe you are a woman of low character who has come to play with my nephew's emotions and take his money. I would be able to tell him this if he would come and visit me. As it is, he stays locked away in the front room with his precious plants."
"Why would he want to come visit you, madam, if you do nothing but tell him how horrible he is? Neville is smart enough to keep away from people who refuse to see he is honourable and steadfast."
"I see that he is honourable and steadfast. All Longbottoms are those traits. It is impossible for them to not be honourable and steadfast. How dare you imply otherwise."
Kippie choked unexpectedly as Ginny smiled her trademark grin. "An honourable man would never do anything to bring shame on his family. This house is a shame. The grounds are overgrown with weeds and the front door sags. I can only imagine how musty and damp the tapestries were before they were replaced." She shook one of the new, vibrant wall hangings lining the hallway between the pictures. It depicted a titan-haired maiden reclining on a rock above a stormy sea. It brought tears to her eyes.
Continuing with only slight hitch in her voice, she stated, "Honour is taking care of a family legacy for future generations. Steadfast is seeing the job to completion when those around you are unsupportive and mean- spirited. I can see why others have been so, but not you. Not the infamous Gran I always heard Neville praise to the sky. I would have thought better of you."
"Neville mentioned me?" The elderly lady looked shocked.
"Of course he did. You were the only parent he ever had. He worked very hard to make you proud of him while we were in school together."
"You were in school with my dear boy?"
"A year behind. He was friends with my brother."
Processing the information, the matron answered almost sheepishly, "Then you are a Weasley. I should have guessed from the beautiful hair. You look much like your grandmother and mother. Well, Genevieve, what has taken you so long to come after my grandson?"
"Excuse me?"
"I may be a portrait, you delightful child, but I know what is going on in the house. Even before I left this mortal coil, I knew Neville was working quite closely with your father and Albus to find you. I despaired that he would work himself to death many times as he searched for you, despaired that he would never be whole if he failed in his assignment."
"He found me. Now he can carry on with his life."
"And whose chin is in the clouds now? Choking on your insufferable pride, no doubt. How can he carry on with his life if his life is somewhere else? Don't think for one moment that he is doing this transformation for me or anyone else in this hallway. This is coming from somewhere deep in the boy's heart none of us have ever belonged."
Ginny hung her head and scuffed her shoe against the stiff carpet fibres. Suddenly, she didn't want to be in this house either. If the last four years had taught her nothing, they are taught her the value of hiding emotions locked inside. Being with her family had made her long to laugh but being here made her yearn to love and be loved. Making her second lightening-quick decision of the day, Ginny nodded her head at the matriarch. "I hope you learn to appreciate his efforts. Neville cannot fail anymore. He is too strong for failure."
"And you don't mind failing?"
"No, I'm very good at it. Thank you." Darting for the open door she had come through, Ginny made it out the French doors before the outcry began again. She had hoped to be well away from the house before they started but she knew she still had a jump on anyone who would come after her.
She had failed to keep track of Kippie, though. He stood just outside the doors, a large frying pan in his hands. "Don't move or I will hit on the head."
Laughing at the utterly absurd fierceness in his small, pinched face, Ginny attempted to run around him. "You can't reach my head. You're too short."
"Not your head. Kippie's head. Kippie will keep you here or he will be forced to bring pain."
Knowing enough about these pureblood's servants to understand he was utterly sincere, she was forced to stop where she was. "Please don't, Kippie. I didn't mean to come here. Please don't tell Neville. He doesn't need to know I was here."
"He already does."
Ginny whipped her head around and stared at the scowling man behind her. "I'm so sorry, Neville. I really didn't mean to come here but I couldn't think of anywhere else I could go. Please don't be angry. I'll leave now."
"I'm not letting you leave so you can just forget that particularly brilliant idea."