Disclaimer: No, nothing's changed from the last chapter. I STILL don't own HP and am STILL getting no money for this. =P
The Very Bad Day (And The Revenge)
"Ginny!! Hurry up and come downstairs, we'll be late!!" Mrs. Weasley called up the stairs.
"Just a minute!" Ginny called back, hurriedly clasping her necklace and smearing some gloss on her lips. Giving herself one last glance-over in the mirror ('You look lovely dear, he'll be thrilled!'), she turned and ran out of her room. Her heart beat uncontrollably—she hadn't seen him in months. Clattering down the rickety stair case, she imagined what it would be like to see him again today. She'd shake his hand and smile coyly as he stared at her, open mouthed. She might only be twelve, she grinned as she smoothed out her short black corduroy skirt, but she looked like a teenager and, she breathed in deeply, could act like one, too. Surely he'd notice her now…
"It's about time! What took you so long? Oh, well, you DO look lovely dear—but pull your blouse down a bit, you don't want your pretty stomach hanging out, now do you?" her mother kissed her on the forehead and stepped into the fire. "Well, come along!"
"Hey, Ginny, why so dressed up?" Fred asked as Ron and Percy stepped in the fire beside their mother.
"Yeah, and what'd you do to your hair?" George appeared beside her and ruffled her long, wispy locks.
"Quit it!" She answered irritably, trying to smooth her hair back into place.
"You know, if you're not careful, you'll start looking like a girl!" Fred grinned, stepping into the now empty fireplace.
"Oh no—you don't think… she wouldn't…Do you think she's about to cross over to the OTHER SIDE?" Cried George in mock-panic as he joined his brother. With one echoing "Mwahahahaha", the two disappeared in the green flames.
"Stupid prats…" Ginny muttered to herself as she stepped into the fire next. Now, to arrive gracefully… "Diagon Alley," she whispered, bracing herself and trying to hold her skirt down. The floor of the fireplace disappeared beneath her and she shot out into the floo network, fireplaces rushing past her. A cold breeze blew up her skirt, and her stomach tossed and turned with the speed. Finally, she threw her arms out and jerked to a stop, slamming into the floor. So much for being graceful, she muttered, as she shook herself and stood.
"Ginny, there you are…are you ok, dear?"
"Yes, Mother, I'm fine…." She replied, brushing off her skirt and following her to Fortescue's. It was a bright, sunny morning, and the alley was packed with people rushing to get their school supplies. They passed Neville and his grandmother—a frightful looking woman with a seemingly permanent glare and a hideous bird hat—as well as Nicole and Dean. After greeting her roommate, she turned and her breath caught in her throat. There he was—he was sitting at the table, eating a sundae and laughing with them. She sighed—his eyes twinkled and she imagined his face as he saw her approach. His mouth would drop open, his eyebrows raise and his eyes would scan her, trying to burn her image in his mind. The wind would ruffle his hair, and instead of taking her hand to shake it, he'd come closer and…
"OW!" Ginny screamed as an old hag crashed into her, knocking her to the ground once again. Five little kids were running around madly, chasing each other around their mother and stepping on Ginny's fingers as she tried to pull herself up again.
"Watch where you're going! Julian, stop pulling your sister's hair—Well, get up, girl, what are you still doing on the ground? Pick up all my packages that you threw in the dirt! If anything is ruined, you'll come with me and buy me another one, do you hear?! Rebecca, STOP this instant!" The old witch yelled, turning from Ginny to her own children and back again. Ears red, she quickly bent down and began to gather the assorted parcels and bags that had fallen to the ground. Finally having gotten everything, she stood and handed them to the old woman and whispered a quiet apology.
"It's ok.. I can't expect the likes of YOU to know any better! A harlot if I ever saw one, with THAT skirt on… and her face painted, too! Shame on you! Don't expect anyone to care when YOU have aids and are laying in the rain and dying! Come on children, let's go!" She threw one last hateful glare at Ginny and tore off in the opposite direction, kids trailing behind. Shaking, she looked down and was surprised to see a small box at her feet. She picked it up and began to call after the witch when a voice from behind stopped her.
"So THAT'S what the Weasley family does to make money, is it? Though I hardly expect anyone would pay much for YOU…" She turned at the sound of Draco's deep, drawling voice.
"What would YOU know about—"
"I don't think you really want me to answer that question, do you?" She turned away as he approached and began to walk in the opposite direction. Suddenly a strong, burning grasp spun her into an alley between two shops.
"Well, look at this. The Weaslette is wearing make up. Doesn't look half bad—you could almost pass for human like this. But do you have any skill?" He shoved her against the wall and came closer. She struggled; he held her arms firmly above her, the brick scratching and cutting her soft skin.
"Draco—please…" She whimpered and closed her eyes as he hovered inches from her lips. After a second, he let go.
"I didn't think so. Watch yourself, harlot—you'll get burned if you play with fire." He whispered darkly and, pushing her to the ground, walked away. She sat there, crumpled up and alone on the ground for some time. Finally getting a hold of herself, she shakily stood and went in the nearest shop. Ignoring the questioning of the clerk—she knew she looked like hell now, she didn't need him butting in to tell her or to find out what was wrong—she threw some floo powder in the fireplace and flooed home.
Two hours later, Ginny was curled up on her bed, crying. A door slammed below, and she heard voices in the living room—Fred and George, Mrs. Weasley, Percy, Ron, Hermione and…Harry.
"Ginny, are you here?" Percy called up.
"Yeah, I'm up here!" She yelled back, turning away from the door.
"Are you feeling alright?" He asked a few minutes later, poking his head in the room.
"Yeah, sure." She replied flatly, not turning to face him.
"In that case, you should know better than to just run off—Mum was frantic until one of the clerks at Johnson's Giant Jigsaws told her you'd come through and flooed home. Maybe next time you'll be a little more considerate after you see what a state you put her in!" He huffed before turning to go up to his room. Honestly, she could be so self-centered sometimes… he rolled his eyes.
Ginny laid back against her pillows and looked out the window at the sun setting, sending splashes of pink and orange across the broad blue canvas of the summer sky. Nothing went right—she crashed onto the ground, mussed up her outfit.. then crashed into that old bat, been humiliated.. then the incident with Malfoy… She closed her eyes and tried to make it all go away—to wake herself up from this nightmarish day.
"Ginny?" A quiet knock at the door startled her from the silence. Hermione came in; she quickly wiped her eyes and turned to smile at her friend, determined to not be further humiliated by telling her what had happened.
"Hey, Hermione… how are you?" She stood and hugged her for a second before motioning her to sit down.
"Are you ok, Ginny? We thought you were going to meet us at Diagon Alley…. Why are your eyes red, have you been crying??" Hermione's brow furrowed in concern.
"Oh—" Ginny forced a small laugh, "I know, I'm sorry. I got caught up in a shop, and then I didn't feel well, so I just came home. I'm fine, just…have some allergies, that's all."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah, yeah, sure. Listen, I'm gonna go try to find some more of that anti-allergy medicine. So, just…make yourself…comfortable, ok?"
"Uhm…sure. Right, of course." Hermione nodded, still puzzled by her friend's behaviour. Ginny smiled weakly, still feeling crushed and cut off, and left the room. Ron and Harry had gone to Ron's room—their laughter and talking echoed through the house. She didn't have the slightest idea where anybody else was, and she really didn't care to find out. Sighing, she went outside and crossed the garden. Stepping outside the gate, she went straight for her favourite tree—a tall poplar growing at the edge of the lake. She sat down and looked up at the sky. Instead of blue with splashes of colour, the sky seemed ablaze—crimson flames danced against shades of deep orange. Dark purple clouds contrasted the last fiery rays of sunlight and reflected in the water of the lake before her. She leaned back into the groove of the tree's trunk and took a deep breath, the fresh smell of summer surrounding her. It was so quiet—nothing but the leaves above her, gently whispering in the wind. She'd always come here when she was upset; she'd sit for hours and think about her stupid brothers, or how she hated being the youngest…or about Tom Riddle and her first year at Hogwarts. She'd been determined for this year to be better; she was older now, and willing to try again. Surely things would be fine now that she knew better than to get possessed by a 50 year old memory, she reasoned. But then, this. Images of the day flew through her mind—her, brushing her hair straight and soft; fighting off Fred and George when they teased her; falling on her face in Diagon Alley; the Vulture hat; the sneer and hawk-like glare of the crabby old witch and her five spawn of Satan.
Lightning flashed in the distance, followed by a deep, rumbling thunder. Ginny looked up at the storm and watched as the rain began to fall.
"Ginny! Come inside, before you catch your death!!" her mother called from the window. Rolling her eyes, Ginny stood and walked back inside.
"Look at you, you're thoroughly soaked! Go and sit by the fire, dear, before you catch a chill…" Mrs. Weasley bustled her into a chair by the crackling fire and disappeared into the kitchen.
"Ow, look at her! The poor dear, she'll catch her death, she will, if she's not more careful…What do you think, doctor?"
"A very serious case indeed—she looks all washed up, poor dear…"
"Ah yes, the first symptom… severe sopping wetness. Look at that, just dripping…" The twins hovered around her, taking turns examining her and fussing about the weather in lilting South African accents. Watching Fred fix a doughnut to his face in order to see her more clearly, she couldn't help but giggle.
"Aha, there she is…" he grinned happily, sitting next to her.
"Give us a big smile, Gin-gin…that's better. You've been quiet ever since we got back…what's up?" George smiled and gently wiped the trickles of water off her face.
"N…nothing's the matter, I'm just…not feeling well, that's all…" she gulped, looking back at the flames. If they knew, they'd never stop teasing her…
"Oh, come on…you went and sat by your bloody Think Tree.. you don't do that for just not feeling well. Come on, out with it…"
"Yeah, we promise not to make too much fun of you…"
"And we won't tell anyone if it's the inspiration for a new product…"
"And we promise not to test it on you…"
"And we…."
"Alright!!" she laughed, rolling her eyes. "But it really is nothing. Just a very bad day."
"Ah yeah. A bad day."
"A rotten,"
"Stinking,"
"No good,"
"Day. Yeah we've had those. Like that one day last year…when we were gonna sell the…well…you know. And then the…well, they came and…well, you know." Fred nodded sympathetically.
"Yeh, it was awful! The whole thing was…well, you know."
"Yeh, I know…" The two looked at each other and shook their heads at the memory of such a…well, you know. Ginny, on the other hand, had no idea what they were talking about.
"I…see." Suddenly Mrs. Weasley trotted in with a massive mug of steaming hot tea. Handing it to Ginny, she smiled and said, "Drink up, dear, it'll fix you up in no time!"
"Thanks mum…"
"She's right—" George snickered. "We slipped some Firewhiskey in it when she was in here the first time—you'll be feeling GREAT in a minute…" Ginny shook her head and took a big sip—the burning alcohol shot down her throat, causing her to splutter before the tea taste took over.
"Tsk, tsk…don't believe your own brothers?" Fred asked, looking affronted. "Now, why don't you tell us about this terrible day of yours."
Ginny sighed and looked deep into her cup. Its murky blackness mirrored her emotions, swirling with steam and frustration. But should she tell them what happened? On any other day she might assume they'd tease her mercilessly for it, but today…they were sitting next to her, talking to her and being so…. so nice. Like real brothers, not just idiotic prats. It had been a while since they'd really talked and, maybe after last year, they were feeling bad for not having stuck up for her a little more. Still unsure, she looked up and was surprised to see them both looking at her, concerned. Taking a shaky breath, she began her story.
When she was done speaking, the two sat beside her, seething.
"Malfoy did WHAT to you?!"
"He's gonna pay—he's gonna bloody pay!"
"NO ONE puts their filthy hands on my sister!"
"Bloody bastard…"
She'd never seen her brothers like this—sure, they'd been pissed at Percy before, and had had their share of spats with other people, but nothing like this. They were positively murderous, fire flashing in their eyes.
"Don't worry, Gin-gin, he won't get away with this, we promise!" George tousled her hair and disappeared upstairs, closely followed by his twin.
"I knew it was a bad idea to tell them…" she moaned.
The last week of summer continued without further incident. Ginny got over her bad day and the four had a blast hanging out at the lake and playing Quidditch in the back. At first she still tried to do herself up a little bit, but stopped when Ron asked if she'd dropped a pot of gold dust on her face, and would she mind if he scraped it off and sold it. She turned beat red—Harry laughed, but shut up at Hermione's glare. GUYS…she rolled her eyes. Oh well…no use in wasting make up on them if they're too dense to appreciate it, Ginny decided. Maybe she'd try again at Hogwarts.
Finally September 1st came—bringing with it a vicious thunder storm. Everyone climbed onto the train completely soaked. Settling in with Lynnith and Claire, Ginny talked happily about the summer, leaving out the details of her bad day—she only wanted to go through that once, when all her girls were there. Suddenly the train lurched to a stop and the lights flickered off. An eerie cold silence filled the hall and compartments, the sound of torrential rain seemed distant and ominous. Heart beating, Ginny glanced at her two friends and turned to look back out the window, searching for some indication of what the problem was. A shrill yelping pierced the silence, echoing down the hall with a flash of black and pale white. The three turned to each other, wide-eyed, before jumping up to see what had happened. Staring down the hall, there was…nothing. Darkness clouded in and a chill crept up the walls as the Dementor entered their car. Lynnith yelped and yanked the girls against the wall, as far back from the compartment door as possible. Ginny's breath caught in her throat as the vile creature glided past.
After an eternity of hellish cold and quiet, the air became lighter, warmer, and the lights came back on. The train started up, and at last, they were on their way again.
Only when the cheery lights of Hogwarts appeared did Ginny begin to relax. As the train pulled up to the platform, the three chattered nervously—what had happened? Lynnith called the thing a Dementor—but why had it been on the Hogwarts express? They grabbed their things and got off the train in search of a carriage. Claire spotted one and tore off, Lynnith and Ginny just behind her.
"Hang on, I have to…" Ginny mumbled, stopping to reposition her things as the blonde trotted on. Lightning flashed above her and a dark shape crashed into her.
"Oh! Are you o-Malfoy!" she cried as he pulled himself up from the mud. Seeing her, he let out a high pitched yelp and ran in the opposite direction, disappearing in the distant crowd of first years. Confused, Ginny picked up her things and turned around to find Fred and George standing directly behind her.
"He won't be bothering you anymore, Gin." Fred stated, a smug grin on his face.
"What did you do to him?" Ginny asked, half-afraid and half-amused at the Slytherin Prince's reaction to seeing them.
"Oh nothing…just put a little limit on his…size…" George replied lightly.
"…What….what do you mean???"
"We came up with a brilliant shrinking spell—rather painful—and…let's say, tested it on him."
"But he seemed his normal size a minute ago…"
"Ginny, Ginny, Ginny…" Fred smiled. "Oh how little you know. We didn't shrink all of him; just the main offending part of him that he thought he could use against you, our sweet dear, little sister."
"WHAT are you TALKING about??" Ginny yelled, exasperated by their vagueness.
"What he means to say is that we have located and reduced the problem—that being, of course, Malfoy's 'manhood'." George finished with a flourish and a bow.
"You SHRANK his—"
"SSHHH!!" Fred threw his hand over her mouth, interrupting her. "Ginny, we wouldn't want this kind of privileged information to get out, now would we?"
"Besides, there wasn't really much to shrink in the first place. Really, all we did was secure him a place in the Vienna Boy's Choir. He SHOULD be very grateful; we've done him a favor!" George continued.
"But how…?"
"Don't ask, won't tell. Some things are better left unsaid. But we can guarantee that he won't ever bother you like that again. And if he does, we'll find out…" Fred added, threateningly.
"See ya later, lil' sis. We have some….other things to attend to." And with a smile, the two walked off and disappeared.
"Ginny! Are you coming, or what??" Claire called out the carriage.
"Yeah, yeah!!" Grabbing her things, Ginny ran to the carriage and climbed in, more excited about the start of term than ever.
A/N: Uhm… the end is kind of off, but I'll figure something out. =) Anyone want a sequel for "Just Another Valentine's Day"?