Disclaimer- Same as always.
Mum was still baking in the kitchen as I came down, making a quick turn and heading outside into the warm sunlight that was currently pounding down on the grass.
"Hey, Ginny, give me a hand?" I turned and saw Bill trying to shackle something to the house. "No, don't tug at it like that! Haven't you ever seen handcuffs?"
"What the hell are handcuffs doing on the back of the house-no, wait, do I want to hear this or is this another one of those creepy stories?"
"In case I transform this month, dummy," Bill snapped, bending down to test them out. "Ok, now just close over to the siding, yup, like that, and I'm-"
"Handcuffed to the side of the house," I said, gazing at the scene in amusement. "So, where's the key to this bad boy?"
"Oh, erm, well…" Bill trailed off and tried to look around him. "I don't know, go get mum, will ya?" I sighed and went back into the house.
"Mum, Bill's shackled himself to the side of the house," I called. She looked up at me, trying to see if I was joking or not. When my expression didn't change, she also sighed and rolled her eyes.
"I swear my children are a breed of something else," she muttered, picking up her wand and motioning me to follow her. When we got back outside Bill was sitting up against the house, looking around at the grass.
"Mum, I lost the bloody key," he snapped as we approached. "And it took you long enough, Ginny," he snapped at me.
"Hey, chill out, I was only gone a moment," I snapped back. Ever since he got attacked by that idiot Fenrir, his mood swings had been unbearable. We've all come to take them with stride but his 'tude is borderline annoying.
"Mum, it's pretty out here, do you plan on unlocking me any time soon or should I plan my retirement around these handcuffs?"
"Bill, dear, have you considered my proposition?" mum asked sweetly. Both Bill and I looked over at her, confused by both her words and tone.
"Huh?" he asked, scrunching up his face, trying to remember and proposition.
"You know, dear, the one where I offered to cut your hair." There was a long silence after she said that as both Bill and I allowed the words to sink in.
My mother was threatening Bill!
"And remember I said over my dead body," Bill snapped nervously.
"Or over your chained body," mum retorted easily enough. "If you want me to let you out, you're going to have to let me cut your hair."
"Your threatening me!" Bill exclaimed incredulously. "I'm chained to the house because I may start transforming any day now and you're threatening me! I don't believe it! I'll just wait for Fred or George or-"
"No one who wants me to continue feeding them will let you out of the chains-"
"Fleur will, mum, she isn't going to want me in these chains forever," he snapped, trying to loosen the metal.
I was honestly stunned at what I was seeing right in front of me. My mother, the once sweet, nurturing woman who baked me cookies and sang to me when I was sick was telling my brother unless he cut his hair he would be living against the house. And then there was my oldest brother, the one person I looked up to as a figure of bravery, was chained to the house like a damn fool. It was an interesting situation. I really wanted to see how this would all play out.
"Well…" mum seemed to have lost her footing. "Well, I'll just cut your hair right now then." Mum strode over and tried to keep his head steady as he struggled. Finally, with a giant yank, the chains tore off of the house and Bill was free to climb out of my mother's grasp.
"Hey, they came off!" Bill said joyously.
"Well, isn't that wonderful?" I asked sarcastically. "At least we know they're durable."
"Oh," Bill snapped, scrunching up his nose, "bugger off."
"No, really, excellent choice of wrist guards! Hey, instead of these why don't we just stick you in a chicken-wired pen? Or a box?"
"I'm going inside now," he called over his shoulder, muttering, "Crazy witches."
I turned back to mum who was trying to magic the paint back onto the house. She stood up with a look of satisfaction and turned to me, acting as though the little scene in front of us never happened.
"Close your mouth, dear, flies will get in," she said as she passed me. The screen door closed with a snap, signaling that she went back into the house.
"What in the world just happened out here?" I muttered angrily to myself.
"Oh, and Ginny?" I looked over and saw Bill standing inside of the doorway.
"What?"
"You tell Fred and George about this and I'll kill you," he warned.
"Tell them what? That you chained yourself to the side of the house and then had mum come out here and refuse to let you out until you cut your hair?"
"Er, yeah," he said, pointing at me. "If they mention one word about it, I'm coming right back to kill you."
"Hey, Bill?"
"What?" he asked wearily, turning back to me.
"Is your ponytail shorter?" I asked, squinting at it. He hesitated and then touched it, becoming increasingly annoyed.
"Mum!" he shouted, turning around.
Ah, I can still make as much trouble as the twins and get in less trouble. I'd say this has been a good day now, weird occurance wise, anyways.
Now all I have to worry about is Harry, who tried to break up with me a second time. Silly, really. Does he think I'll just smile and say, "Alright, I understand." I mean, I should. I fear I'm becoming quite the little stalker.
Oh, I am becoming a stalker! This is so disappointing.
Later that night, after both mum and Bill had calmed down long enough to figure out I was lying, and Fleur was trying to knit in the corner; as Fred and George worked on papers and Charlie muttered at maps; and Hermione read while Ron dozed on her shoulder, I sat in my chair, surveying the room.
"Where is Harry? I am getting very nervous now," mum said, more to herself than anyone else. She glanced at the watch overhead once again, forgetting, once again, that it didn't tell her anything about Harry. "Has anyone seen him?"
"He was by the lake a little while ago, Molly," Hermione offered, not looking up from her book.
"The lake? What was he doing by the lake?" mum asked incredulously, as though going to lake was incredibly rare and shocking.
"Looking at the water," Hermione said, turning a page.
"Staring at the water?" mum repeated. "The poor dear! Ronald, why didn't you go out to sit with him? Ronald? Ron!"
"What? Wassmatter?" he said quickly, sitting up, bleary eyed. Mum managed to give him her worst glare before going back to her needle work once again. He turned to Hermione doubtfully, only to her have her shush him and place his head back on her shoulder.
No one seems to want to ask me if I care Harry's missing. I don't. Well, alright, I guess I would care if Harry was really missing, but chances of that are slim to nothing.
Soon enough, much to mum's delight, Harry came in through the backdoor, waved us all hello and went up to his room, his feet echoing all the way.
"Someone should go talk to him," mum said vaguely from her place in the room. Once again everyone was looking at Ron, who was snoring loudly. "Ronald Weasley you get up right now and go comfort Harry!" mum bellowed. Harry probably heard her from her voice volume and was blushing heavily.
"You know," Hermione muttered so only I could hear, "I think he would much more preferred you than Ron."
"I don't think so," I replied, reaching down on the floor and pulling a book at random into my lap. Oh, of course, one of Harry's favorites. Why must the universe mock me? I'm a good person, who, yeah alright, probably did something today that could be considered sexual harassment, but whatever. Other than that, I'm a nice girl!
"I do," she said, going back to her book. Was Hermione right? Would Harry have wanted me there to talk to him about the War and about Dumbledore? "You were his girlfriend on top of being someone he could confide in. As far as I know, neither Ron nor I have been on an intimate level with him. It makes you closer. He loves you, Ginny Weasley." She said all this softly, as not to alert the others. "Plus, Ron is God-awful at this sort of thing and is most likely saying the wrong things."
She was right, of course.
Luckily, my family heard none of this, so we continued to talk softly to each other, saying things that were most likely better suited for privacy.
"I think I love Ron," Hermione said after a moment. "Well, I have loved him, for a while now, but I think I'm ready to really love him."
"Are you talking about sex?" I hissed, feeling my face heat up slightly. Hermione looked even more embarrassed about what I just said and quickly glanced around at the people sitting in the room.
"Let's talk about this later, shall we?" she asked.
"Maybe I'll just become a lesbian," I said with a sigh.
That my family hears.
A/N Please read and review.