Summary: AU What happens when Ginny finds a magic shop…

Ginny Dove,

Queen of Love

By: Bruce Coville

Killer Strikes Again

"Hey Killer! How's you boyfriend?"

Ginny Weasley felt her cheeks begin to burn. Why couldn't Pansy Parkinson just leave her alone? Why couldn't everyone leave her alone?

"I don't have a boyfriend," she said softly.

"Oh, we've seen you walking with Harry," said Pansy knowingly.

"Yeah we've seen you walking with Harry!" repeated Blaise Zabini, who was sort-of Pansy's official leech.

That Pansy and Blaise had seen Ginny and Harry was no surprise. Harry Potter was Ginny's across-the-backyard neighbor (AN: They are in our time. Not England, US), and they been walking to school together since the first grade.

"Harry and Ginny, the love story of the century!" cried Pansy. Clasping her hands she placed them against her cheek and fluttered her eyelids. "How Ginny does lurv that maun (AN: "How Ginny loves that man: in gushy language)!"

Ginny flared red as the roots of her hair. "Look who's talking, you pea-brained, metal-mouthed, hot boy chaser! Did you ever see any guy in pants that you didn't want? You'll probably have to wait to get that tin off your teeth, though. I heard that boys didn't like that taste of stainless steel."

Ginny knew the moment the words left her mouth that she'd made a mistake. Pansy had only wearing braces since Monday and she was still sensitive about them. But Ginny had been desperate to turn the attention away from her, and the blistering comments had escaped her lips before she could even think about them.

Explosions like this were what earned her the ridiculous name nickname Killer to begin with- ridiculous because, in truth, Ginny is the most painfully shy person in the entire Carmenita Middle School. Or the entire state, by her father's calculation. But Mr. Weasley was given to poetic exaggeration.

Ginny hated the nickname, especially because the ferocious comments that earned it for her has never been spoken out of anger. It was just that the minute people start teasing her about her personal matters, she felt such an acute panic that she would say anything to gat them to leave her alone. Unfortunately whenever she tried to explain that she did this because she was shy, people would laugh.

"It's because you're good at it," Harry said once, "I mean, when you set you tongue on slice and dice, it's like your got Ginsu knife between your teeth."

Ginny might not have lashed out at Pansy quite horribly if she hadn't already been upset over their language-arts teacher's announcement that they would be doing oral reports at the end of the month. As far as Ginny was concerned, doing and oral report was not much different from being slowly ground up in a sausage machine- except that, given a choice, she would have chosen the sausage machine. She couldn't think of something more excruciating than having to stand up in front of people and speak.

All this was going through Ginny's mind later that afternoon as she pressed herself against the brick was of the alley that ran alongside the Edward Cinema. She had ducked around the corner to hide when she saw Pansy and Blaise coming toward her. Though she kept telling herself that the simplest way to deal with the situation would be to walk up to Pansy and apologize, Ginny found the very idea terrifying. So she remained tight against the wall, barely breathing, wishing she could just melt into the wall, until the girls go by.

"So-what are you going to do with her?" asked Blaise.

"About whom?" said Pansy, sounding genuinely puzzled.

"Ginny!"

"Why should I do anything? Everyone knows what a bitch she is. I've got more important things to do than worry about getting back at Killer."

"I can't believe you're going to let her get away with saying those things," growled Blaise. "In fact, when I see her, I'm going to slap her face for you!"

To be continued…

Preview to the next chapter:

But the shop at the end of the street was even more old-fashioned than the others. Its curved front window, divided into many panes, said in bold lettering:

Elives' Magic Supplies

S.H. Elives, Prop.