'Does it matter that practically every one we know is happily in couple hood with a few kids hanging off them and a toaster which doesn't hiccup fire? Of course not!'

Join Ginny through her disastrous attempts to find love, an actual job (one not requiring serious ass-kissing) and happiness.

Over the Rainbow?

CHAPTER ONE

Do you Ginevra Weasley take Severus Snape to be your lawful married Husband?

What? God no!

And do you Severus Snape-

I said no!

I now pronounce you man and wife…you may kiss the bride

Ew! Get away from me! Somebody help!

Come my darling; let us depart to the potion dungeon, where our chemistry is sure to be hot…

Arghhhhhhhhhh!

"Ginny! Ginny wake up! We're running late again," a muffled voice said, sounding stressed. I blearily opened my eyes to find a large lollipop stick complete with floating brown cloud, pulling off my warm covers.

"Do you mind?" I grumbled, grabbing them back and burying myself beneath them. "It's a Saturday Mr. Lollipop man, so leave me alone!"

My head felt like it had been riddled with bullets and those same bullets, were now, very meanly, having a loud ballroom dancing competition on the surface of my poor brain, doing the tango with sadistic enthusiasm.

"Up!" came the voice again as the covers were magicked away. On the now bare surface of the bed, I curled up in a little ball and waved my hand weakly. "Leave me Lolli, I've gone too far, take the men and get out of here. Save yourself!"

"What in the heavens are you talking about, Ginny?" I looked up. The lollipop man had now transformed into a very tired looking Hermione. I groaned and sat up; my body felt like a rag doll that had just ran a marathon, saved the world and baked a cake all in one night.

"Hermione?" I ventured, stretching and rubbing my forehead. "What time is it?"

"8.00," she said frantically, with an expression on her face which seemed to except that I would scream in horror and jump hastily out of the window. Instead I let out a loud sigh.

"Why are you waking me up this early on a weekend?" I moaned childishly and then thinking back on the horrific nightmare I had just experienced, added, "Actually, thanks. You saved me from a night of honeymoon passion with Snape. I seriously think I need help. Dreaming of marrying a dead man, especially one wearing a powder blue tuxedo, can not be good."

Hermione smiled slightly before putting on her stern face. Apparently Ron used to find it strangely appealing. I worry about that boy.

"You do remember what day it is, don't you?" she asked frowning. I was suddenly reminded of all those many, many times when Professor McGonagall would catch me daydreaming in class and announce with thin lips, 'I do believe Mrs Weasley will answer the next question….'

"Obviously," I replied, wondering if Hermione had got out of the wrong side of the bed this morning or whether I had done something wrong. Again. I mean, I forgot to feed Crookshanks one time (ok, four) and she completely flipped. its not even as if that beast is a weakly little kitten or anything, he spends most of the day terrorising the dog next door and sneaking behind the letterbox, awaiting with ready claws for the muggle postman to put his unassuming hands through, and still, I'm the one who gets regular lectures on responsibility.

"It's Saturday morning, hence the need for a lie-in." I continued, wondering why my flatmate/best friend had suddenly forgotten my ritual of the past three years.

"You're joking, right?" Hermione questioned. As I shook my head in confusion (not to be recommended when one has hangover size of Jupiter), I noticed that Hermione wasn't in her usual cat paw pyjamas and fluffy slippers, instead she was dressed rather wonderfully in a red jumper and long black skirt.

"Today is a Tuesday Ginny," she started, talking in an exasperated tone used on the likes of mental patients and disobedient dogs, "making yesterday a Monday, Christmas Eve, in fact."

No, that can't be right, because if it was, then that would mean…oh crap…

"What did I do?" I demanded, panicking and hastily looking around the room. Last night had been the Daily Prophet's Christmas party meaning that I, office dogsbody and expert writer of the obituaries, was 100 guaranteed to have done something a) illegal b) humiliating and c) involving karaoke and pixie dust.

Hermione sniggered (evil cow!) and sat gracefully down on the bed. "Well, you'll be glad to know that it wasn't as bad as last year, remember the incident with the blow-up man doll? I told the twins not to bewitch it to flirt with their poor drunk sister-"

"Please get to the point Hermione!" I pleaded. I'd nearly forgotten about my mistletoe kiss with Lothorio, the rubber hunk.

"Ok," she said, taking pity on me. "There was only mild flirting, Colin Creevy and Mr. Slughorn got the brunt of most of it. Firewhiskey consumption was slightly higher than last year, mostly because Lavender Brown, who we will now call 'the floozy who copped off with George Skeeter in the stationary cupboard' transfigured a chair into a giant bath which you then filled with alcohol and later jumped in. And then…"

I sat listening to my drunken crimes with mild horror and fascination. After sniffing my skimpy black dress (which I must have tumbled into bed in) I am safe in the knowledge that Hermione is telling the truth, something I really wished wasn't true, especially since I was planning on taking the ridiculously expensive dress back to the shop today.

"Ah," I said finally, my cheeks turning slightly pink. "I suppose it could have been worse. At least I know you're fibbing about Slughorn, even in my tipsy state I wouldn't go within fifty yards of that horrid little man. Did I tell you that he groped me in The Leaky Cauldron last week? There I was ordering a drink and the next thing I know, I have his stubby, hairy paws glued on to my arse! His head had to lovingly collide with my handbag for that one."

Hermione put on a look of graveness. "Oh Ginny," she said in a whisper. She reached down under my bed and picked up a pair of shiny gold boxers, which looked like they could double as an Elephant's tent (if Dumbo was into camping, that is) and offered them to me.

"I'm afraid that can now be classed as lively foreplay." She tilted her head in the direction of the kitchen. "He's making Christmas morning eggs, says to ask you how you like them."

This is the point where I let out an ear-piercing scream, grabbed Hermione by the shoulders and wept, all the while sneaking around her head to see if there was any Slughorn shaped movement in the kitchen.

Of course I knew she was joking. Of course! Nobody would be silly enough to believe that I, Ginny Weasley could do things with…I can't even think about it.

"Very funny," I grumbled while I watched Hermione collapse in a fit of extremely childish and unnecessary giggles. I waited for her to stop and waited and waited…

"That's enough now, miss comedienne!" I said in a very Ebenezer Scrooge way before huffing and tossing my hair over my shoulder. (This of course would have worked better if hair hadn't been stuck to scalp in great red tufts, resembling an exploding firework) I haughtily moved to my wardrobe, feeling very dizzy and wondering why the room was spinning around and around.

I collapsed in a heap and began wading through the mound of unwashed clothes, attempting to look for something festive and preferably not made out of black lace or red leather (not that I owned that type of clothing…) Eventually I settled on a pair of worn jeans and a green jumper, which mum said brought out my eyes but really made me look like a giant garden pea. I dressed and pulled a comb through my hair. It got stuck.

"So why do we now own a pair of golden boxers?" I asked Hermione as I attempted to remove the comb. Ow! This would be a lot easier if I could locate my wand. Predictably it had gone missing on the one day I might really need it. Bloody typical!

"Well it's a simply enough story," Hermione answered, now stood by the door. "Certain members of the office decided a little game of truth or dare might liven things up a bit. Naturally, you volunteered to go first and were dared to rip off Slughorn's trousers and pants with your teeth-"

Kill me. Kill me now.

"Thankfully you cheated and used your wand. It was really quite funny," Hermione finished with an indulgent smile. Grrrrr…I love her to bits but sometimes she really can be too high and mighty. So what if I screw up once in a while, I'm youngish, I still have my own teeth, its only natural that I feel impelled to do take home old men's pants and shout at my boss (I'll speak about that disaster later)…it's the girly thing to do.

"When can I hear about your party time anecdotes?" I questioned with a pout. Hermione had once again agreed to be my guest for the office party (the invitation had said 'date' but who needs one when there's a best friend handy?) She said that the only reason she was going to attend was to keep an eye on me and make sure I didn't blow up the office, my boss or anything else handy. I had been too grateful at the time to feel offended. I can't remember seeing her (or anything else for that matter) at the party but she must have done something mortifyingly embarrassing, it's only fair after all.

"As much fun as that sounds, I'm afraid there's no time," Hermione answered, glancing at her watch and renewing the anxious expression she was wearing earlier. "We have to be at the Burrow at 8.30 to help your mum with the cooking. She said its best to start early especially considering how many people are coming this year."

Fantastic. I'm about to break into the tap-dance of wild joy any moment…not! I can't believe I forgot about today! The pointed look which had accompanied Hermione's words obviously was meant to indicate a certain somebody who would be arriving for turkey and stuffing today after a five year absence. A certain somebody who fled the country, moved to Tibet and joined the monk hood in order to rid himself of me as a girlfriend. No wonder I'm feeling as giddy as a schoolgirl…

"Harry will be there," Hermione added so pointlessly that I replied with a highly sarcastic, "Really? Fancy that!" and added my own slightly mean comment, "So will Ronald, the boy you dumped six months ago, that'll be nice, won't it?"

"No, no it won't," Hermione replied quietly. She had completed bypassed my snippy tone and was now looking extremely troubled, which of course made me feel like an evil, bitter spinster. Hermione had decided to 'take a break' from my brother as she said that they had been stuck in a rut and thought the time off would give commitment freak Ron the incentive to move to the next level and pop the question. She hadn't been banking on Ron, ever the simpleton when it came to matters of the heart, to get the wrong idea and turn to his secretary in solace. That's what you call a case of crossed wires…Of course; Hermione being Hermione was too proud to say anything and so has been moping, understandably, for the last six months. Ron has remained with Lola, the dim American bimbo, who now makes more than just his afternoon coffee.

"God, we're pathetic," I said self-pityingly. Both Hermione and I walked over to the bed and slumped down upon it.

"Could be worse," Hermione spoke wisely.

"Sure could," I agreed brightly, "We are both healthy and have good jobs, well you do, I'm an underpaid wannabe writer, whose closest thing to a professional piece was on the annual man-eating flowers show but still, we are lucky. Who cares that we are 24 and 25 with no boyfriend or anything remotely resembling one? Does it matter that practically every one we know is happily in couple hood with a few kids hanging off them and a toaster which doesn't breathe fire? Of course not! We are clever and…feisty and you know what I always say?" I prompted an increasingly glum looking Hermione.

"Yeah, 'Q. when are men not annoying? A. when they are dead'" she said, perking up to an almost scary extent (I think she's been at the cooking sherry to calm her nerves.) "You're totally right. I don't need your idiot of a brother, no offence, to be happy. I am the smartest witch in the whole damn Ministry. We will just go to dinner today and smile and laugh and try not to get maimed by your nieces and nephews or turned into a singing baboon by the twins and everything will be fine, fine, fine!"

"Uh huh?" I mumbled doubtfully before lying back on the bed and closing my eyes. If I was to see Harry again then more sleep, even ten minutes, would be needed. (Snape in his blue tux is starting to seem oddly appealing. Desperate? me? Never.)

I was lulled to sleep by Hermione's worryingly calm voice.

"Fine, it'll be fine, all fine, wonderfully fine…"