AUTHOR'S NOTE: SO IMPORTANT YOU WILL WITHER AND DIE IF YOU REFUSE TO READ:
Okay...so
this is Ending Number One. Note: it features a Ginny-Kingsley pairing.
If you like this pairing, read this chapter. If not, read Alternate
Ending One or Alternate Ending Two. NOTE: DON'T READ ALL THREE. CHOOSE
ONE. Don't go read this chapter and then go Kingsley-bash... (small
voice)... I like Kingsley...he's cool. But he's not for everyone and I
understand that. I'm doing Alternate Endings on those characters with
the most responses...and Kingsley, because it's unexpected. For those
of you who are crazy enough (myself included, people) to like Snape,
read Alternate Ending One. For those many of you disappointed in lack
of Draco-ness, yes, there is Alternate Ending Two. Have fun.
BooBooKittyFuxs: Oh, no...Ginny wasn't going to sleep with Kingsley...at, least...I didn't intend her to...but who kows...she's a naughty little girl. She does seem like a bit of a whore, doesn't she? Hmm...chalk it up to sexual tension and enjoy. :)
SuckerForASweetTalker: No, no, no, no. You're not being mean or being a bitch. You're entitled to your own opinion, and in this case, I agree with that opinion...it's quite astute and valid. I hadn't meant to make GInny such a spread-legged whore...I didn't even think of her as seeming so promiscuous until I got all these reviews saying so...and by then it was too late. Just assume that Ginny's been shagged twice before that day and that was 'letting her hair down'. I know, flimsy excuse, but I really just wrote this for relief from plot, so it doesn't really go anywhere. Sorry. About the Ginny-Draco thing, I specifically categorized it as just a Giny fic because I wasn't sure where it was going. However, it probably screwed it up, so I'm sorry and I hope you enjoy Alternate Ending Two. Thanks for the helpful review.
To the anonymous hmmm...: I'm sorry! I can't believe I made Ginny into such a whore. And this really wasn't supposed to be so long...it was supposed to be short, plotless and comic relief. It didn't turn out that way. I want to say to everyone that which I've said many times before: I'M A BLOODY MORON! And I take pride in it. I royally screwed this story up by trying to make an ending for everyone. Don't worry...my other stories are better. Check out my newest story if you want plot.
Iviest: Not a chance. This is something else I wanted to say...I've never been in a romantic relationship so I honestly don't know how they work. Hell, I don't know how emotions work. I honestly think that during the whole birth-of-being part I was cheesed off in the hormones department. Which makes this story such an irony in itself. A sad, pathetic irony, but an irony nonetheless.
THANKS FOR ALL YOUR REVIEWS, HELP, AND CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM!
DISCLAIMER: Not mine unless it is, and if it is, it doesn't belong to J. K. Rowling, now does it?
Hormonal Half-Wits
Chapter 26: Ending Number One
Right…so…I was just rummaging around in my things, looking for frog spawn (don't ask…ha, wait…you can't!) when what should I find but my long-lost diary!
Okay, so technically, I lost it for a month…but in Ginny-years that's like a lifetime. So much has happened in the last month I really don't know where to begin. We're in Bath at the moment…we've sort of been city-hopping for the past four weeks. The Death Eaters we were supposed to be capturing and subduing got wind of us and fled. We've been chasing after their route endlessly and the track's starting to get cold. Kind of like my arse...it's bloody freezing out here.
It's been so quiet this past week though, it's almost deceptively so. I wonder...
I had news, two and a half weeks ago, from mum. Or rather Ron did and I snuck up behind him, conked him on the head with a frying pan (it might have slipped and hit his bollocks as well, I can't be sure…I was still mad at him for telling Kingsley off for snogging me) and stole the news to read for myself.
I'm not too certain Hermione was mad at me…apparently Ron had said something about her stomach looking a little rounded. Woman's Translation: you look fat. Practical Translation: male death-sentence. And a 'stay-out-of-my-bed-free' card. Whatever that means. Ron went eight different colors when Hermione said that. I know. I counted.
Mum sent the usual news…nothing much interesting unless you count the twins combusting their third pigeon of the week…or Remus and Tonks being caught shagging in the kitchen (I am never, ever, ever, ever, ever eating anywhere within ten feet of that table ever again)…or Mrs. Black calling mum a fat-arsed whore.
Mrs. Black was given a new paint job.
And Dumledore had sent news that they would be holding a funeral ceremony for Severus next month. They couldn't find his body; the place was so ravaged with magic that even the walls crumbled to dust around investigators.
They're going to be spreading his ashes (how they can tell his ashes apart from the other twenty-eight stone of ash and dust and soot in the place, I'm not quite sure) over the Hogwarts grounds.
When I read that part, I ran out of the tent we'd pitched (managing a spectacular trample on Ron) and headed deep into the forest. Where no one would see me cry. No one but Kingsley. I swear, the man has a red-head-radar (I don't quite understand the logistics of such Muggle technology, but Hermione explained it as being sort of similar to a Locater Spell); he strode into the forest minutes after I did. Came and sat by me and held me and talked to me. I made me feel safe and content, though I think I cried the whole time.
Kingsley's been there for me this entire trip. Its like he knows when I need someone to talk to, or someone to listen, or someone to take my anger out on (he usually points me in Ron's direction in these times), or some space and time to myself.
Sometimes I don't know what I'd do without him.
