I still don't own HP... I'm still thinking of the fun though. Anyway, I'm a little disappointed by the lack of reviews... I didn't think it was that bad... :-(
Many things had changed for Ginny Weasley since the departure and "disappearance" of Harry Potter. She had received fan mail (one letter), death threats (2 letters), and a troop of Aurors to follow her around Diagon Alley while she shopped for school supplies. People recognized her in the streets and some girl's had a penchant for shooting her nasty looks.
However, some things were still sacred. Every Wednesday night was bath night. Although she herself was not a prefect, some things could be arranged through a careful mix of diplomacy and threatening glares. One of these things was the location of the prefect's bathroom. Ron had finally given her the location and she had learned to cherish it. This Wednesday night she was swimming little laps in the extra large bathtub and playing with the ruby spout. It shot out large fragrant bubbles that she was quite fond of. She popped one and giggled at the harrumph from the mermaid on the wall.
"Quit splashing, you bimbo." She teased. "It's my bath time and if you're not interested you can go float with Myrtle." With a final sniff, the mermaid splashed off, looking for another water picture. Taking a deep breath, Ginny ducked under the water and opened her eyes, watching the bubbles float above her head and found herself at peace. While she was sitting in the bathtub she could forget that Harry, Ron, and Hermione were gone. She could forget that things were different now. It was a war and she was away from it.
Fenrir Greyback was crouched in the forest. Although he rarely found himself in the Forbidden Forest or anywhere near Hogwarts, since the death of Dumbledore he had found himself staying much closer to the place of his last attack. Though the forest was dark, Greyback had no trouble seeing. Life as a werewolf had strengthened his senses, even when he wasn't in lupine form. He was perhaps the most deadly werewolf alive, though no official record had ever been kept. Although he would never admit it, even the Dark Lord feared Greyback's transformation and subsequent rages. If the full moon was near, Voldemort would often order Greyback caged for the duration of the moon's cycle. This behavior alone had worked a wedge between the two and their followers. Fenrir Greyback's clan knew that they would never be accepted as members in Voldemort's new world.
On orders from Greyback himself, they were to resume their production program by selecting targets and positioning themselves near when their change took place. There were to be no mistakes. Greyback himself chose a target, one Ginerva Molly Weasley. As a former host to the Dark Lord himself, the young woman could be a most lovely trophy. No one, Fenrir Greyback least of all, knew how the Dark Lord felt about his former vessel, but something drew him to her. She even haunted his dreams now, a red wolf, tall and rangy with eyes full of rage. In a flash, Greyback recognized his craving for Ginerva Weasley was more than it seemed. In longing for her, he longed for a queen. If this was indeed so, biting Bill Weasley was the best thing that had ever happened to him. It had linked him to this blood sibling, the only Weasley girl in several generations and a highly powerful witch. Powerful witches always made the best queens. His realization caused him to rock back on his haunches and grin, exposing filed fangs. Thus contented, he rose and turned, silently vanishing into the forest to contemplate his plan of attack.
Ginny slept fitfully, dreaming of the forest. Her breathing became shallow and fast as she tossed and turned on her pillow, her face screwed tightly in fright. A dark snarling wolf appeared in her dreams and a man with strangely glowing eyes watched her from the bushes. A calm lake showed her a picture of own terrified expression before exploding in mud and flying water. From somewhere she heard the screams of Hermione and Ron. She woke herself accidentally, tangling her fingers in her hair and pulling. Once again, she woke her roommates and, for one, they were sympathetic. Romilda padded over to where Ginny lay gasping for breath. She ran a cool hand over Ginny's forehead and reached over to her bedpost for a band. With three quick sweeps, Romilda pulled Ginny's hair back into a ponytail.
"Go back to sleep, Gin. There'll be time enough for trouble in the morning."