Lol you guys should totally hate me.
I lost track of where this story was going, but I FINALLY got a good idea and HOPEFULLY, you'll see updates a bit more often.
I want to thank everyone who's reviewed/favourited/alerted, I was sort of overwhelmed when I looked at my legacy story stats and saw the numbers. Thank you thank you thank you! I am completely undeserving (though in fairness to ME, I do have A LOT going on right now).
Anyway, enjoy! I know it's short and pathetic, but hopefully it will suffice until next chapter!
Disclaimer: I own a tummy named Muffin that is entirely too fat. If I owned Harry Potter it would be fatter, because I'd be eating at gourmet restaurants all the time, but I don't, so it's not. Thank you.
Ginny was aghast.
"What did you do?" she asked, one hand clamped protectively around her belly.
Fred was facedown on the sofa. "I was drunk," he said by way of explanation.
"And?" Ginny prompted. "That doesn't explain why Hermione is holed up in her flat, not answering letters, has blocked off her Floo and put up anti-Apparition wards all over the place."
"Iakyuzherofactiglikapayighore," Fred mumbled into the couch cushion.
"So help me, Fred, I am a pregnant woman and my temper is short!" Ginny threatened.
"I accused her of acting like a whore," Fred ground out. "With Zabini."
"You did what?" George, who had thus far been silent, exclaimed. "That was out of line, mate."
"I know," Fred said miserably. "And I don't know how to explain to her when she's not letting anyone in. I don't even know what I would say!"
Ginny was looking at him calculatingly. "What?" he asked her.
"I know what your problem is," she announced.
"Do tell," he quipped with a raised eyebrow.
"This is not a time for sarcasm, Fred Weasley!" Ginny admonished, sounding so much like Molly Weasley that both boys cringed. "Anyway," she continued calmly, "you, Fred, are afraid of commitment."
"Ex-excuse me?" he spluttered. "I am not afraid of commitment. Fifth year, Alicia Spinnet - "
" – Dumped her for a go at Cho Chang," Ginny interrupted. Fred scowled.
"Fine. Seventh year, Angelina Johnson - "
"- Was abandoned because you left the school during Umbridge's time and promptly hooked up with Verity."
"That girl I met at the club - "
"Whose name you've forgotten."
"Okay, point made," Fred conceded. "So what should I do?"
"I'd try contacting her through Muggle means, mate," George suggested. Ginny looked at him in surprise.
"That's actually quite a good idea!" she exclaimed.
"Thanks for that ringing endorsement, dear," George said sarcastically. "But seriously, Fred, send her flowers of something, but through a Muggle delivery service."
"Right!" Fred exclaimed, brightening up. "I'll do that. I'll do that right now." He strode to the door and his hand was on the knob when he spun around.
"I – er – don't know where to buy flowers," he said sheepishly.
"Oh, be a man," Ginny snapped. "You're grown up, you can make your way to London and ask for a florist without our help."
"And – erm – I don't have Muggle money," Fred admitted.
George and Ginny stared at him. Wordlessly, George pointed out the window at Gringotts. "Stop being a ninny and get out there."
Fred didn't bother with a rebuttal since he knew the accusation was true. He nodded, retrieving his moneybag and vanishing through the door.
George looked at Ginny. "Bet?"
"I give it a week before she caves and gives in."
"I give it five days," George declared.
"You have to babysit James for two weeks if I win," Ginny told him.
"You have to put Shrinking Solution in Harry's drink if I win," George challenged with a shark-like grin. Ginny's smile was equally wicked as she held out her hand. They shook on it and Ginny Apparated away, still grinning.
Ginny's next stop was the Granger residence, as she liked to call it. From the outside, Hermione's home was a modest two-bedroom flat, but after extensive redecorating, with Undetectable Extension Charms and the whole shebang, the inside of the apartment now resembled something more like an advertisement for a hotel.
"Hermione?" Ginny called, knocking at the door. "Open up!"
"Go away, Ginny!" Hermione yelled back.
"You've exceeded your grace period for moping!" Ginny shouted, now pounding in earnest on the door. "It's just Fred! Why on earth are you moping so much?"
There was a pause. "Because!" Hermione shouted.
"Because….?" Ginny asked warningly.
There was a pregnant silence, and then the door swung open.
Hermione stood on the other side, her already insane hair dishevelled and sticking up in odd places. A frown creased her forehead, shaping her lips into a dissatisfied pucker. "Because, Ginny," she said slowly, "I have to see him every week at the Weasley dinner!"
Ginny pushed past Hermione into her house. A (paid) House Elf appeared to take her coat.
"Listen, Hermione," she said sternly. "Fred obviously has some issues. He said the wrong thing. Now, you need to show him who's boss."
Hermione looked sceptical. "Meaning…?"
Ginny fished around in her handbag and brought out a sheet of paper, waving it triumphantly. "I know what Fred's going to be doing every night this week. You, young lady, are going to be 'appearing' there, looking at hot as possible." She giggled, nudging her friend's shoulder. "We'll show him what he's missing."
Hermione gave Ginny a doubtful look. "Gin, you realise that the number of sexy clothes I have totals about… two?"
"Nothing a bag of Galleons and maybe a credit card can't fix," Ginny said with a wink.
"I can't let you do that," Hermione said immediately.
Ginny laughed, long and loud, until Hermione started to get a little worried for little Albus. Surely all the jiggling wasn't healthy for him?
"Oh, Hermione," Ginny sighed at last, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes. "You sound like you thought you had a choice."
Hermione scowled. "Fine. I'm in. Now get out. I want to shower." Crossly, she opened the door for Ginny, who was totally unfazed by her best friend's rudeness. As the door closed behind her, a devious smile spread slowly across her face.
The Plan had been put into action.