"That was..." Hermione began
"Brilliant? Superb? Bloody excellent?" Ginny supplied.
"Disturbing." Ginny nodded.
"I'd have to agree. But you've gotta admit, having Malfoy just walk up to you, thank you for no apparent reason, and promise he'll never torture you again is a good thing."
"But he's MALFOY! He might not even keep his promise." Ginny shrugged and sipped on her lemonade, obviously thinking.
"One could only hope." She finally replied, leaving Hermione openmouthed and ready to take a bite of her sandwich.
"What?" She cried, dropping said sandwich on her platter with a splat. "That was great! Malfoy just told us both that he wouldn't mess with us anymore! This is absolutely brilliant!"
"You're contradicting yourself, Mione." Ginny frowned. "But really. For six, or in your case, seven straight years, Malfoy's been reliable. Not in a good way, he just has been. He's been a mean, nasty, stuck up prick ever since we met him. We could always count on him to do the wrong thing. Now that he might be nice... who knows what he could be hiding? At least when he's a git, we know the world's not upside down." Hermione nodded after a moment of consideration. Or maybe it was the rather large toucan that landed on her shoulder and tarted screeching obcenities in many languages.
"Fine, fine. Can I finish my sandwich now?" Ginny smirked as she nodded. The bird huffed and puffed and then blew itself up into multi-colored confetti.
"You know, Mione, you're becoming more and more like my brother every day." Ginny observed with a smile as she dusted the confetti off her shoulders. Hermione gave Ginny a long look from her current, about-to-bite-the-sandwich position.
"I'm not sure if that's an insult or a compliment."
"Oi! What was that about! Malfoy just HUGGED my sister!" Ron was furious, nose pressed to the glass window of The Three Broomsticks.
"I'm sure it was nothing." Harry said, even though the odd feeling in his gut made Harry want to run behind the nearest bush and empty his stomach.
The exploding bird did nothing to improve his queasy state.
After a moment of silence in respect for the bird (well, either that or the three were sufficiantly wierded out or, in Harry's case, to queasy to talk), Ron spoke up.
"Well, one thing's for sure!" Ron cried. Dean looked over at him. Harry swallowed uncomfortably.
"What's that?"
"Malfoy's about to be nothing!"
"Ron. Ron! RON!" Harry and Dean both had to restrain Ron from taking off after Malfoy. "Let's just go ask Ginny, ok?" Ron seemed to consider this for a moment, then nodded his (obviously reluctant) consent. Wrenching his arms from the hold the other two seventh year males had on them, Ron stalked up to hysterically laughing sister and Hermione.
"Well?" He cried, throwing his arms up in the air. "What was that about?" Both girls looked at Ron for a full thirty seconds before starting to laugh again, Hermione included. "WELL?"
"Well what?" Ginny giggled.
"Well what the bloody hell was Malfoy doing hugging you?"
"Thanking me."
"You helped a Malfoy out? Where has your pride gone!"
"I guess I must have placed it out to dry with my knickers!" Ginny and Hermione got up and left the pub, money on the table. Still laughing.
"Girls are nuts." Dean whispered to Harry.
"Don't have to tell me twice." Harry responded, though his mind was currently affixed upon the quandary that was Ginny. And her knickers. More so her knickers than Ginny. Sort of.
Dumbledore had made the announcement.
The shopping trips had been made.
The last minute preperations had been completed.
The Picnic had yet to be held.
"IT'S THE DAY OF THE PICNIC!" Ginny awoke with a scream when one of her roommates
– Amiee – jumped on her bed, chanting.
"Merlin, Amiee! Don't DO that!" Ginny grumbled. "What time is it?"
"Twenty minutes till set up!" Amiee cried. "So get UP, sleepy head! Otherwise we'll miss the cheese futon!" Ginny blinked, letting the information register in her mind. Then she looked at Amiee as if she were mad.
"Um... don't you mean fondue?" Amiee made a sound that seemed remarkably like 'pish.'
"Futon, fondue, what's the difference?" She said, flippantly waving her hand. Ginny shook her head and made her way blearily into the shower.
Twenty minutes later, Ginny exited the bathroom in a frenzy.
"AH! I've got to get dressed! Shirt, gotta find a... a... wait, bathing suit! That's it! Bathing suit!"Ginny rummaged through her trunk and pulled out the number. Shuddering slightly, she went back into the bathroom and changed. On her way out, she grabbed a shirt, shorts, and her sarong, just in case.
"Oi! HARRY! Ten minutes until we have to be down there!" Ron screamed into Harry's ear, causing the latter to twitch violently and fall off of his bed.
"RON!" Harry shouted after a glance at the clock informed him that he had more than thirty minutes until he was needed. Ron looked at Harry somewhat meekly.
"Sorry, mate. But I tried getting you up several times, once, you nearly hexed me!" Harry glared at Ron in response and lurched into the bathroom to shower and see if he could do something about his hair.
Twenty minutes later, Harry could be found lounging around in the common room, as it is a well known fact that boys do not take nearly as long in the shower as girls do. In fact, there is significant evidence to support the fact that the male species do not so much 'bathe' as 'dance around in the water for five minutes'. (Also , if the author wasn't smacking herself for procrastinating and leaving this story to the last minute, she too would be part of the study... though, the observer, not the observed.) But Harry was still clean. And as he took the opportunity to relax in the common room, he was tripped upon by none other than Ginevra Weasley, trying in vain to hop around on one foot while trying to pull a pair of shorts over the other.
With a veritable screech, Ginny went down in what could only be described as a 'flaming pile of limbs', tripping over Harry's extended leg.
"WHY YOU BLOODY WANKER! I'LL GUT YOU AND HANG YOU BY YOUR... oh, hello Harry!" Distracted by her sudden change of subject and Ginny's choice of words, Harry was a moment slow in reacting.
"Oh! Erm, Hullo Gin..." He took one glance at her skimpy purple tank top over what was obviously a bathing suit, her tiny white shorts and the barely-there sarong wound around her (in his mind 'luscious') hips, and had a second spaz attack.
"AND NOW FOR THE BATHING SUIT CONTESTS!" Dumbledore called in his macigally amplified voice. "MALES FIRST! Representing Hufflepuff, Sixth year, DAVID HASSLEHOF!" Hermione also had her second spaz attack of the day (as seeing Ron toting the barbecue had given her the first), and saw that most of the other muggle borns and half bloods did the same. Sporting electric blue swim trunks with no design, he was 'voted off'. As was the fifth year from Slytherin (Porter Cole) and Gryffindor ( Tommy Gnat), leaving the winner to be ...
"KEVIN MEYERS! RAVENCLAW, by vote of your peers, you ARE our winner!" The fifth year accepted his medal, awarded to him by Professor Dumbledore.
For the sixth years, there wasn't anything exciting. Well, Ginny's ex was laughed off the podium.
Hufflepuff won.
Then, for the seventh years...
"Hufflepuff! ERNIE MACMILLIAN!" Interesting, but, no.
"Ravenclaw! TERRY BOOT!" Getting warmer...
"Gryffindor! DEAN THOMAS!" Close, but, hot pink REALLY isn't his color.
"Slytherin! DRACO MALFOY!" Half the female (and a fair bit of the male) population swooned when Draco took the stage. Ginny and Hermione, however...
"Oh... my GAWD!" Ginny screeched. "He PICKED the SUIT!" On that warm and sunny April afternoon, Draco was wearing a lime green speedo. The same speedo that Hermione and Ginny had been laughing at a week ago.
The vote was unanimous.
Draco won.
And then, BOOM!
Ron lit the grill.
And put new meaning to the phrase 'Flaming Red Head.'
AN: Standard Disclaimers apply.
