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London Calling

Ginny stood in front of The Card Deck, trying to shake off the nervous feeling that had sent her stomach churning. She shifted her grip on her guitar case handle and ran her other clammy palm across her worn jeans. She grasped the door handle, pulled, and was greeted by a smoky gust of air as she stepped inside.

Inside was dark, but warm and friendly. She scanned the room, and her eyes landed on a plump, gray-haired woman behind the bar, wiping down beer mugs. The woman looked up and saw Ginny. Her face lit up and waved her over, rag still in hand. Ginny made her way to the bar.

"You must be Miss Weasley," said the plump woman. Ginny nodded as she put her guitar case down. "I'm Miranda White, but you can Mindy if you like. So, you're here about the job." Again, Ginny nodded. Mindy put the mug down. "You're a quiet thing, aren't you?"

Well, no, Ginny thought. I just don't have anything to say. Which is probably just the thing she should have said, but she knew the moment she opened her mouth, all the wrong words would tumble out, and in the wrong order. It happened every time, no matter how prepared she felt. This is why she knew never to go into public relations.

"Well, that's no matter. I'm not hiring you to talk, am I?" Mindy said, smiling broadly. "I'll be having you play in a half-hour. Think of it as a public audition of sorts." Public audition? Ginny gulped, the nervousness coming back in full force. "Oh, don't worry, you'll be fine. There's a dressing room in the back. Martin'll be showing you to your place." Mindy looked around the room. "MARTIN!" she hollered, but no one in the bar looked up. This seemed to be a normal occurrence. A man with snow-white hair, bald on the top of his head, stuck his head out from the doorway leading to the back section of the bar.

"Yes, m'dear?"

Miny sighed. "That'll be Martin, my husband. Absent-minded little thing, I should warn you, but he's a good enough man." Martin had made his way over to bar.

"Are you Ginger, then?" Martin asked Ginny.

"Ginny," she corrected him.

"Oh, bless my stars! The creature speaks." Mindy said, pretending to be surprised. Ginny grinned.

"Well, Ginny, there's a room in the back." Martin pointed behind him. "You can put your stuff in there."

"Thanks," Ginny said, picking up her guitar. She followed Martin to her dressing room. It was small, to be sure, but it had a very homey feel to it. A bouquet of flowers sat on the table in front of the mirror framed with light bulbs, and a plush red couch sat against the wall. Ginny put her guitar down and thanked Martin. He tipped an imaginary hat and left. And Ginny was alone.

She sighed, and hoisted her guitar onto the couch, trying to fit as much of it onto the couch as possible, and clicked the locks open. Her sheet music slid out, splaying all over the floor. Ginny groaned. She didn't need this right now. A half an hour's worth of organizing scattered across a foreign floor. She stooped to pick it up.

Ginny had just finished fishing out the last of her papers from under the couch when there was a loud popping noise. Ginny jumped, startled, and slammed her head on her guitar case. She sat on the floor, tears streaming, gripping her head and wishing death upon whoever Apparated into her dressing room. She looked up with blurry eyes, and was surprised to see someone she had never laid eyes on before.

He wasn't a movie star, to put it quite bluntly. He wasn't in possession of any recognizable features, but he had an overall pleasantness to his looks. He was on the short side of the male spectrum, having to be only a few inches than Ginny's small frame (Ron had been the lucky one in the height department, whereas Ginny ended up on the short side, with Fred and George). Dark brown hair, only a few shades lighter than black, hung over part of his freckle-dusted face, as per the style. His brown eyes were full of worry as he offered to help Ginny get up. Ginny, being Ginny, refused.

"Are you sure?" His voice was shaky, gravelly.

"I'm fine, really. I'm just going to have one stunner of a headache," Ginny said, getting to her feet. She stopped crying, at least.

"I'm really sorry," he said. "I was going to use the tube because I'm not much for Apparating, but I was running late so I thought it would be best to just, y'know, pop over. I was aiming for the next room over." The story tumbled out of his mouth at an amazing speed.

Ginny grinned. "At least you didn't end up in the wall," she said, pushing her hair behind her ear.

The boy paled. "That alone is my biggest fear: ending up in a wall wide enough for be to be trapped in."

"Claustrophobia?"

"No," he said, shaking his head. "It's too much like fairy floss. I don't want to die due to fairy floss insulation inhalation. I'm frightened enough of fairy floss itself, let alone a deadly version that keeps in heat."

Ginny stared at him. "You're afraid of fairy floss? The pink spun sugar things at fairs and such?" The boy nodded, face totally deadpan. This sent Ginny off into gales of laughter. The boy joined in. When they calmed down, he stuck out his hand. "I'm Rafe Fombry. I play piano here, right after you, I suppose"

Ginny took his hand and shook it. "Rafe?" she asked. He half-shrugged.

"Raphael, but nobody but my grandmother calls me that, and I reckon she does so because she thinks I'm my father." Ginny let go of his hand. It was the hand of an athlete, to be sure.

"I'm Ginny Weasley," Ginny said. Rafe looked at her, head cocked to the side slightly. "Yes. A Weasley. Trademark red hair and all."

"Yes, I've heard of your lot. I remember your brothers," Rafe said, nodding. "Fred and George."

Ginny cracked a grin. "Yes, well, it's not exactly easy to forget them." Rafe laughed.

"This is true, your brothers are not the type of people one casually meets and forgets." Rafe stuck his hands in his pockets. "Even in Ravenclaw, we heard every blessed prank they pulled."

Ginny was about to tell him about a prank they once pulled on Penelope Clearwater, a Ravenclaw prefect and Percy's old girlfriend, when Martin came up to the door and knocked. "Miss Weasley, we'll be needing you to be ready to go out on stage in about five minutes." Ginny nodded and thanked him. "See you've met our young Mr. Fombry here. Quite the piano player, he is." Rafe half-shrugged again. He seemed to be another who didn't take compliments well. Ginny inwardly smiled at this.

Martin exited, and once again, Ginny and Rafe were alone. "Well, I'd better let you get ready. I have to get ready myself. But I'll be out to watch your set." This did not make Ginny feel better, for some reason. She saw him out of her tiny dressing room and then turned to face herself in the mirror. To Ginny's horror, she found her cheeks were striped with thick, black lines. When she started to cry after she hit her head, her mascara had run. Perfect, she thought. Today was really the day to fool around with Muggle make-up. Idiot. She looked at it from an artistic point of view. It had been done before, that was certainly true, but it still didn't look half bad. Very Gothic Lolita, she decided. But, she considered the crowd, and chose to look normal the first go around. There was no need to frighten the future employers, though she's certainly keep the look in mind for the future. She snatched her wand from her guitar case and performed a quick cleaning charm. She fixed her make-up magically, and quickly got changed. It wasn't anything spectacular. Ginny never did have the pleasures of truly fancy clothes, but she also decided that she didn't really want them. The khaki corduroys and light blue tank were much more comfortable and her than any designer label dress.

Ginny grabber her music and tucked it under her arm, and waited for Martin to come and tell her to go out onstage. She was more than nervous. She felt ike she was going to be violently sick. But Ginny had felt like this before. The summer before she started Hogwarts, she was nervous all the time at home because Ron had brought his new friend over for the holidays. Usually, when anyone else did this, Ginny had no problem. She liked meeting her brothers' friends.

But Ron's new friend was Harry Potter. Highly unfair, if you ask me, Ginny thought, looking back. Not only was I high-strung about starting school, darling ickle Ronnikins had to bring home Harry bloody Potter. Still, she was fond of that summer. It was the following school year she didn't like thinking about. How horrible that year was. No, she scolded herself. You will not work yourself up over the past now. Especially not now. You're stressed enough. Deal with this, and then go home and make yourself as sick as you want over first year. Ginny wondered briefly if it was healthy to talk to oneself in such a manner before deciding she didn't care.

Another knock at the door sounded sharply, and Ginny's heart jumped into her throat as her stomach plummeted. "Miss Weasley? We're going to be wanting you onstage now."

"Alright," Ginny said in a smooth voice. She was amazed she sounded like that, as if she had been doing this for years. Either this was a brilliant sign or a terrible one, and Ginny was about to find out. She pulled her guitar out of it's battered case and slung it over her shoulders. She made her way to the stage, her chunky, chocolate brown boots feeling heavier than usual. She went on to a smattering of applause, and to her surprise loud whooping and clapping from the back. She looked up, and her nervousness dissipated as she saw Hermione, Ron, and Harry bloody Potter, all cheering loudly for her.

A/N: I feel so bad about keeping this chapter! It's been, what, a month? Though I've plotted out the next few chapters so I should be able to write those within a fair timeframe. I hope you're all enjoying this! Please remember to review!