Someone was whimpering. It was a weak, mewling sound, rousing her from a thick sleep.

"… be fine…"

"… regrow…"

Ginny tried to open her eyes to see who was muttering, but her eyelids were heavier than they were supposed to be.

That was mean. Someone had weighed down her eyelids.

Probably Fred or George. They did things like that. Except, sometimes she did things like that too.

Did she forget she weighed down her own eyelids? That would be not funny at all, weighing down her own eyelids.

The whimpering sound got louder, like a trapped kneazle trying to claw out of her chest, when she remembered Fred and George were at school so…maybe it was the gnomes?

Maybe one of the beans she pitched had been toe-jam flavored, and eyelid weighting was minion revenge.

"- the sleep spells are beginning to wear off. Just a moment while I recast- "

Ginny forgot about her eyelids, as the voices faded away.

()()()

()()()

"… there's only so much a body can take at once."

"How long does it take to repair bones? They're just bones!"

Her Mum sounded a bit unhinged. Different than the way she sometimes did when the twins or Charlie or she or Ron did something that worried her, or broke something, or started to eat before everyone else was seated.

Another voice was talking over her Mum's voice. A different voice.

Ginny couldn't see anything. She tried to focus on the different pitches and rhythms of the voices around her, but her head seemed filled with a thick fog that muffled what was being said and who was saying it.

"… the repairs are quick…"

Repairs?

"… extensive damage…"

"… not repair…"

"…remove and regrow…"

"When can we take her home?"

Dad?

She tried to speak to get her dad's attention, but her voice didn't seem to work either.

Dad? She tried to speak again, and realized the problem wasn't her voice. It was her mouth that wouldn't move.

Nothing would move. She realized she couldn't feel her fingers, or legs and she started to hear that annoying whimper again, followed by a shuffling of steps and rustle of clothes and maybe some words… Dad? Mum?

"…another sleep spell…"

… before the fog rolled back in.

()()()

()()()

Click. Clack. Click. Clack,

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

Sounds were forcing her conscious.

Tap. Taptaptaptaptaptap. BLING.

Fwwwwwwwwwip.

Tap. Taptaptaptaptaptap, "Bugger!"

"Arthur!"

"-ry, Mol- "

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

Click. Clack. Click. Clack.

Mum's knitting needles?

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

Family clock.

Tap. Taptaptaptaptaptaptap. BLING.

Fwwwwwwwwwwip.

"Where do you suppose is the 'K'? Molly, do you see where they put the 'K'?"

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Arthur- "

Clickclackclickclackclick.

Knitting needles moving faster.

"Why don't you count the letters to make sure there are none missing?"

"Oh! Twenty-three. Molly, it looks like it's missing three letters. Perhaps Muggles don't use Ks? Or… oh. Vs. Oh! And B's! Hmmm. How do you suppose they spell Baklava, then?"

"Arthur, why on earth would a Muggle need to spell Baklava?"

"What's a Baklava?" Ginny mumbled, her voice barely a whisper.

Clang. Crash. Bllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllling.

"She's awake!" Her Mum gasped as something clattered to ground and sounded like it broke and scattered in pieces, and Ginny pried open her eyes.

Pain shot through her eyeballs. She squeezed them shut again, but not before she noticed her Mum clutching the family clock in her arms, her Dad trying to scoop up some sort of muggle alphabet machine from the floor.

"Wha-" Ginny's throat was so dry, the words could barely emerge. "What happened?"

Her head seemed fuzzy, and her limbs felt weightless. Her Mum leaned over her, her features blurring in Ginny's line of sight.

At least, a little blurry, though Ginny could see her Mum was wearing her Nurturing Face. But then it seemed to morph into Mum's Look-What-You-Did Face. "What happened?" her Mum sputtered, thrusting the clock forward, the sound of a cuckoo echoing in the room. "You almost DIED! Ginny! You could have DIED!"

Her Dad laid his hand on Ginny's forehead. It was odd, because Ginny could see it, but somehow, she couldn't actually feel the weight of it. "Molly, Ginny feels hot. Does she feel hot to you?"

"Oh, no. Where's that healer?" Her Mum's Look-What-You-Did Face morphed immediately into her Mum's Oh-No-It-Might-Be-Dragon-Pox Face. She put the back on her hand on Ginny's face (which Ginny still couldn't feel) and then her cheek (which Ginny also couldn't feel) and then the other one, before Ginny asked why she couldn't feel her face.

Over her Mum's shoulder, Ginny's Dad waved his wand toward the door. It flung open, with some sort of repetitive bing-bing sound coming out of the threshold.

The clock also took another opportunity to cuckoo again, and Ginny tried to turn her head to see where all the hands pointed, but her head wouldn't turn the way it was supposed to.

Then she tried to push herself up, but her arms wouldn't work.

It was very confusing. Ginny tried licking her dry lips, and maybe they moistened, but she couldn't really feel that either. "Mum? Did you know my arms don't work? And I still can't feel my face?"

Her Mum burst into tears.

For the first time since she woke up and couldn't feel her face, Ginny felt alarm. "No! Don't cry, Mum. I-I don't need to feel my face! Or my arms!"

Her Dad's eyes watered, and he put both his arms around Mum, but he smiled gently at Ginny. "Ginny, you're going to be fine. You can't feel your arms because they're-"

"Missing?" Ginny's voice rose in panic.

She couldn't lift her head, so she tried to tuck her chin and she managed to get her eyes to roll down enough to see that both her arms were still there, much to her relief.

However, they were propped up in some kind of sling, and the rest of her was under blankets. Ginny tried to wiggle her toes, but her legs were immobilized and, in contrast to her brain beginning to race, her body felt as if it were floating in a calm pool of water, her limbs utterly weightless.

"Well, Hello! Welcome back!" A young woman in lime green robes waltzed into Ginny's room. With a wave of her wand, potion bottles started flying back and forth, pouring themselves into larger bottles, mixing and turning different colors.

A small band flew towards Ginny and plastered itself on her forehead. The woman leaned over, smiled widely showing a great many teeth, and sang, "temperature perfectly normal! You gave everyone quite a scare, young lady!"

The woman really had too many teeth. And trying to peel her gaze away from the shining whiteness of it all, Ginny's gaze fell to the symbol on her robes. "I'm in St. Mungo's?"

Ginny's head began to throb and she felt completely stupid, because of course she was in St. Mungo's which explained the ceiling and the clock and her face and arms. And her throat began to tighten, and her breath began to come faster and faster, because she couldn't remember why she was in St. Mungo's and "What happened?"

"Just a few questions, now that you're awake- "

Ginny felt like she wasn't awake. She felt like this was just some sort of strange dream, because she couldn't move her head, and her Mum moved into view and then her Dad replied to something and those teeth were so shiny, but not as shiny as the beam of light that lime-green woman pointed into her eyes. "Stop- I don't- "

"-and pupil dilation norm- "

Ginny licked her lips again, but -

"Here's an ice cube, that should hydrate you a bit."

She couldn't feel her lips, but somehow, they were suddenly cold.

"Ginny? Can you answer the question?"

Ginny blinked again. "What question?"

"Can you tell me when was the last time you did accidental magic?"

"Um…." There was no right answer to that. She didn't remember her last accidental magic and she didn't want to admit all the wand-stealing-on-purpose magic she did.

"Has she ever performed accidental magic before?"

"Of course she has!" Her Mum seemed indignant.

Her Dad's voice was calming, and Ginny could see a quill floating in and out of her sight line, writing something down in a chart. "I mean, I'm sure she- "

"Well," her Mum said lower, "there's quite a bit of magic around with so many of us. I'm sure some of it was Ginny's, at some point."

Her Dad thought about it. "That incident when she was two?"

"With the wheelbarrow, the self-tuning accordion and the chicken?"

"Definitely her."

"Could have been Percy."

"Honestly Molly, the chicken was wearing her shoes. She hated those shoes. Dead giveaway."

"But- "

Ginny had heard enough. "I'm not a squib! Of course I've done accidental magic!"

As if to agree, the clock in her Mum's clutches started whirring. With a pling, plop and two cuckoos, Ginny's hand spun around and around until it lurched to stop on a brand-new wedge labeled "Not A Squib."

"Oh, well, that's comforting." The healer blinked at the obvious display of underage magic. "Sorry, just needed to be thorough, dear. You see," the healer turned toward her parents. "Most of the time, when underage children fall from a great height, some sort of accidental magic prevents injury. Children instinctively know that falling down hurts, and falling from a height- "

This made no sense, Ginny thought, wincing as her head began to ache again. "I'm-I'm not afraid of heights. I don't- "

"She really isn't," Molly tutted.

"No, no no!" Arthur added, with an energetic nod. "That's probably why no magic happened! She used to love that catapult the twins- "

Ginny began to whimper because she couldn't quite remember…. "I fell? I'm here because I fell?"

Her parents grew silent, and the healer moved into Ginny's line of sight again. "Now that you're awake, we can start treatment. You're feeling groggy because you are on pain and numbing potions."

Ginny could barely understand what the smiley woman was saying. She had fallen? "What happened?"

"Your body has sustained a great deal of damage. You managed to shatter half your bones! That's drastic enough, but it also caused massive damage to the parts of you that aren't bones."

How? How did she do….

"-we'll keep you under sleeping spells for a week or two, as we figure out which bones to mend and which bones to remove and regrow and in what order."

There was something missing. Ginny couldn't quite grasp what the issue was. "You're saying I fell? I-"

Her Mum, wearing her Look-What-You-Did Face again, appeared over the healer's shoulder. "We found you, and Charlie's broom- "

Ginny's breath caught, as if her lungs suddenly seized with the memory, no longer able to move air in and out of her chest.

Her broken chest.

Cold hands grasping the bucking broom handle.

Spinning, spinning, tumbling over.

Cutting through branches splitting her skin, ripping her limbs.

Thudding into thicker trunks, her body cracking.

Splintering.

Crunches as fingers broke, and legs snapped-

Ginny's stomach lurched and she began to choke. "I think I'm going to be sick- "

A bedpan shot from some side cabinet, resting under her chin just in time.

()()()

()()()

Ginny tried to stave off awareness, wanting to sink back into dreamless sleep far away from toothy healers and beige ceilings… but her mouth being stuffed with fuzz made oblivion impossible.

"… check in every twenty…"

She tried to lick her lips. She stuck her tongue out, chomping a bit. Sweet Merlin, it was as if all the moisture had abandoned her mouth to be replaced by one of Mum's sweaters.

"… most brothers wouldn't…"

Ugh. That giggle did not belong to her family. If Ginny had ever giggled like that, her brothers would have tied her to one of the orchard trees and ordered her to survive on whatever grubs and insects happened to crawl into her mouth until she grew out of it.

"…off at six…"

And even the thought of eating grubs didn't sound as gross as it should, because they were probably squishy and squirty, which would at least fix her parched mouth.

"… maybe we could…"

"Water?" she tried to speak, but the only sound that emerged from her throat was a thin wheeze.

Ginny winced at the squeak of a chair moving, but at least the cloying giggling and whatever-that-was ceased, because the next voice Ginny heard made her tense for different reasons.

"There you are. Hang on."

That most definitely was not the toothy healer. Or her Mum. Ginny pried open one eye.

"Oh," the toothy healer cooed, illuminated by a bright light emanating from a wand. "Aren't you the best big brother in the world? But she can't have water yet, just ice chips."

Ginny's vision adjusted enough for her to spy an ice cube floating above her, dampening her chapped lips.

"Too cold," she managed to croak.

The ice cube danced up to drip three times on her nose.

Fully awake now, Ginny lifted her chin up. "You're supposed to be the one who's above this sort of hazing," she growled.

Bill, who was inexplicably not in Egypt, shrugged. "Fish swim. Birds fly. Brothers brother." He turned to the toothy healer and gave her a disgusting smile. "Could we get some more?"

The healer gave Bill an even toothier smile and sashayed out the room.

"I'm on my deathbed, and you're flirting with my healer?" Ginny huffed, her eyes blinking away an errant drip to see, once again, that beige ceiling.

And the slings holding up her arms.

And the ice chip that just Bill dripped on her nose again.

She crinkled her face, and the drop went backward toward her eye socket. "Ewww! Why are you here?" she grumbled.

"I came all the way from Egypt to torture you with ice cubes. Show some gratitude."

"Percy's now my favorite."

"That's low, and blatantly untrue."

A superbly cutting response balanced right on the tip of her tongue. But before the scathing retort could emerge Ginny's jaw seized up without any warning. Followed by her neck and shoulders.

A cry of half-pain, half-terror tore from her throat instead, as her body stiffened before it began to quake in sharp jerks, as if it were trying to eject knives from her bones to puncture her skin from the inside.

Bill sprang to his feet at her gasp of pain, and that annoying whimpering sound that she kept hearing was echoing in the room. It sounded like some sort of sick or baying cat.

With a sense of shame, she realized it was coming from her.

"Shh-shh. You're alright. Take the potion." Bill slipped a hand beneath her still damp neck, lifting her head to sip at a potion vial he held at her lips.

Ginny's eyes squeezed shut, to trap the tears behind her lids so Bill wouldn't see. "Wha-" she gasped again, until another wave of blades rolled from her hip up through her ribs.

"Drink up, it'll stop in a minute."

She gulped at the potion until the sharp stabs faded and her body once again felt weightless. Her lungs felt as if she had just run the length of the orchard a dozen times, burning with the effort to grab enough air.

A damp cloth wiped away some sweat that was dripping down her face.

It was definitely sweat, because there's no circumstance in which she would cry in front of her eldest, coolest brother. Yet, his brow was furrowed, and he had a concerned look on his slightly tanned face as he gently wiped away the dampness on her cheeks. "You're okay," he said.

Her voice, when it emerged, sounded small to her. "How terrible is it? What's wrong with me?"

"What's wrong with you?" He raised an eyebrow at her. "Where, oh where to start? You're scrawny, you have more freckles than Fred and George put together-"

She took a shaky breath and narrowed her eyes at him. Mostly, because it was expected of her. "Lies."

"-you're terrible at wizard chess. Absolute rubbish- "

"-gobstones is my game- "

"-annnnnnd," Bill looked at her pointedly. "You seem incapable of telling when a broom is hexed."

Ginny squeezed her eyes shut in shame. "The broom was hexed," she repeated. Of course it was.

She was an idiot, in a hospital, in front of her curse-breaker brother. Because she stole and tried to ride a hexed broom.

"Oh yeah," Bill's voice drawled, and another piece of ice dripped on her forehead until she opened her eyes again.

Bill fixed her with a stern stare she had never seen aimed directly at her. "Ginny-Bean, that broom was hexed with so many hexes it's completely inconceivable to me that you couldn't tell before you lifted off."

If she weren't foggy with potions, she might have managed to feel indignant at the idea that she simply should have known. But instead of indignation, she just wanted to cry.

Possibly because underneath the potion, her body felt wrong and achy.

But maybe because she was being censured by her most-favorite brother. Maybe she was embarrassed she hadn't known.

Maybe not knowing meant she was terrible at magic. "What did I miss? How-how was I supposed to know?" Her voice sounded quivery and pathetic. She was being pathetic in front of the Best Brother.

"You're supposed to know because you're a witch! Underage or not, you should have felt something." He raised an eyebrow at her. "If you had been paying attention."

Had she felt something? She felt clever getting into the broom shed, and thrilled when she got in the air. Maybe there had been something in the middle, but pfft. Details.

So, alright, maybe she hadn't been paying attention, but why did he have to sound so condescending about the whole thing? "If it was hexed," Ginny asked, "which one of you did it?"

Which brother would she have to punch in the face, as soon she could move her arms again?

Bill bit the side of his cheek. "There's some ambiguity there. And the reason I'm here instead of Egypt is the Code of Silence has been invoked."

"No!" Ginny cried. "You can't do that! I want to know- "

"Nope. Code of Silence, emergency invocation with owls and secret signals and everything."

"You're all Coding this?" Ginny grit her teeth and groaned in frustration as her head plopped back on the pillow. "Gits! All of you. I'm in a hospital bed and you all invoke the Code? Not from just Mum and Dad but me, too?"

"Can you blame us? You're in pretty bad shape, and this is not something anyone wants to take full credit for."

"And you call yourselves Gryffindors," Ginny muttered. "I demand to know which one of you did this."

"Code. Of. Silence." Bill scoffed. Ginny would have pitched something at his stupid fat head, if she were able to move at all. "But," he continued. "Everyone also wants to know you're okay."

Almost sweet, except for the you'll-never-know-who-did-it part. "Am I? Okay?" Ginny grumbled, not expecting an answer.

"Your clock hand was on Mortal Peril for two days. The human body has two hundred six bones," Bill said. "You're going to be here for a while."

She couldn't hold Bill's censorious gaze any longer. She shut her eyes and tried to calm her breathing. "Mum's never going to let me out of the house again. I'm going to be grounded till I'm fifty."

"Serves you right." Bill's jaw flexed. "Mum woke up from the sound of the crash through the orchard. She found you quickly, with what was left of Charlie's broom-"

Ginny winced. Mum was never going to allow her out of the house again, and Charlie was going to murder her, for the broom.

Someone should just let the two of them duel it out to see if she would get to live or die. She'd put money on her Mum, though.

"-and she apparated you to St. Mungo's right away and then she sent Dad home for the clock which he had to figure out how to unattach from the wall, which he couldn't, so he just removed a whole section of the wall."

Ginny's wince morphed into a full-fledged groan.

"Yeah… and then she sat here and according to the very, very fit healer who keeps plying you with potions- "

Ginny growled.

"-she then hugged that clock, attached to the section of the wall, for a full twenty-four hours. But the real shitestorm started when your clock hand moved from Peril to Hospital," he stressed. "That's when Mum started sending Howlers. Since she didn't know who actually hexed the broom," he drawled, beginning to enjoy himself from the looks of his smug face, "she just sent one to us all. Ron was the only one who didn't get a howler, because at the time of the alleged hexing, he didn't have a wand, doesn't know any hexes, and is thus, innocent."

Ginny wanted to die. She wanted to sink into the uncomfortable bed and just diiiiiiiiie. "Is everyone mad- "

Bill stuck his tongue in his cheek and leaned back in his chair, arms folded in front of him. "Charlie sent a Howler back wanting to know the condition of the broom."

Yeah, everyone was mad. "How many pieces is it in?"

Bill propped up one heel over his knee as he Just. Kept. Going. "You do not want to know. You owe Charlie a new broom."

"No!" she wailed. Charlie barely ever spoke to her, which was in part because he didn't live at home anymore, even in summers, and in part because he still always looked like he expected her to be in nappies. "Charlie hates me. This will make it worse. What's worse than hate?"

"He doesn't hate you. He just thinks you're a girl."

"I am a girl."

"Not sure he's ever forgiven you for that."

Ginny's nose crinkled at him. "Don't spare the feelings of the sibling stuck in the hospital bed."

Bill shrugged. "Charlie is Charlie, and you're neither a dragon, nor a broom. Therefore, he doesn't quite understand what he's supposed to do with you."

"And the others?" Her voice sounded small to her ears. Way too small for a Weasley, even the girl one.

Bill sighed and "Percy sent back a three-foot scroll condemning the use of hexes in the household and the lack of the enforcement of the ban on underage magic."

"Percy's such a git."

"The twins followed up with a second condemnation of household hexes- "

Ginny couldn't suppress a snort.

"-and a reminder that it's always the older brother."

"This is the worst invocation of the Code of Silence I've ever heard," Ginny grumbled.

"Rubbish. The Code of Silence is as much about misdirection as it is about literal silence. A lot of misdirection going on. "

"So who did it?"

"Code of Silence."

"I hate you," she glared.

"I know. Everyone figured you'd be mad, so a school owl ducked into here a bit ago with a note from Fred." He shifted and drew a rolled parchment from his pocket. "And since you are wrapped up like a mummy, I opened it for you."

"Billlllllllllllllllllllllllll!" Ginny wailed. It wasn't like she got mail ever. It would have been nice to open it herself. Though, if she were entirely rational, she granted that he did have a point about the mummy hands.

Not that she'd tell him that though. A wise girl couldn't cede brothers an inch.

"To paraphrase," Bill cleared his throat, giving the letter a bit of a flourish. "Fred and George have sent you a half-eaten box of Every-Flavor Beans and a half-assed apology about the Code, and this is a direct quote: 'Despite your unfortunate injuries, we're delighted to have a sister so diabolical as to break into the shed unnoticed. Mum and Dad should really be grateful you are so clever and we're positive that you've learned an important lesson in all of this.'"

"Learned a lesson? I'm the one who's supposed to have learned a lesson?" Ginny was gob smacked by the sheer nerve of her stupid git brothers. "One of you hexed a perfectly good broom!"

"Your voice is squeaking."

"BILL!"

"Squeak. Squeak. Like a tiny banshee mouse." He popped a handful of the beans Fred and George sent into his mouth.

"Oi!" She fixed a blazing look right at her innocent looking oldest brother and those beans. "Stop eating my candy."

"I'm saving you from this candy. It's pity candy. Have some pride. You're way too clever to be appeased by a third of a box of pity candy," he smirked.

"Was probably a whole box of pity candy before you got to it."

"In my defense, I've been sitting here a really long time."

"I reckon that's because of the pause, quote, 'really, really fit healer'" Ginny grumbled. This was dreadful. Everything about the accident, being wrapped up, stuck in bed, getting lectured. "This is the most awfulest thing ever."

"There are magical leeches in the Nile that suck every word with the letter 'r' from your memory. Perspective."

She ignored that. "My life is over, I'm going to be grounded until I'm fifty, and I don't even know which one of you to plot revenge against."

And she hadn't been paying attention. What did a hex feel like anyway? If she should have noticed a hex on the broom, to add insult to injury… lots and lots of injury… she was a terrible witch. She had broken bones layered on broken bones and she was wrapped up to her chin in awfulness.

It was such an awful prospect, she decided she wasn't too proud for pity candy. She opened her mouth wide. "Bean, please," she pouted.

He chuckled and chucked one that bounced off her forehead. Ginny's head, which had risen in indignation off her pillow, plunked back down, sending a shot of pain through her left temple. Bloody brothers. "Wanker," she muttered.

Bill choked back a snort and put a hand behind his ear. "Pardon? Didn't quite catch that."

"I said I have the worst brothers ever."

Bill, who had excellent hearing and heard exactly what she said popped another bean into his own mouth and grinned. "Probably."

This was a nightmare, she thought.

Years of sneakiness. Mouthing "up" "up" over every stick in the orchard in practice. Mimicking Charlie's posture and hands on tree branches before she finally got a broom to work for her at age six. Waking up before dawn to sneak in flying time before everyone woke up.

And now?

Mum would charm the house to wail alarms and the ghoul in the attic would shake chains and orange and purple lights would spray into the air waking up half of the village way in the distance if she got near the broom shed again so she'd never get to practice and she'd never become a world famous Quidditch star who never invited her brothers to any of her games and she wouldn't be best friends with Harry Potter because Harry Potter would never be best friends with someone who couldn't perform a half-decent Wronski Feint.

Her eyes began to feel that telltale burn and she snapped her gaze up to the ceiling, clenching her jaw and blinking rapidly. Despite her efforts, a tear leaked out of one eye.

Bill, despite the incessant teasing that was as ingrained a trait as the red hair, proved himself worthy of the dubious honor of being the Least Worst out of her terrible, awful, horrible brothers, when he leaned forward on his chair and casually dabbed it away without making a fuss. She was grateful he didn't say anything. They sat there for a few minutes in silence, as a few more tears escaped. She tried again to blink them away.

"You don't have to wipe them, I'm not a baby."

"Of course you're not a baby. Ron's a baby. You're a girl." He unrolled a smaller scroll of parchment and held it next to the pillow. "Also, along with your letter, Fred and George sent a piece of high-quality artwork to be awarded to you."

Ginny gnashed her teeth and ignored the crick in her neck as she twisted to see it.

It was rubbish scribbling, mostly. The top of the scroll rolled with a banner that declared "Winner! Sibling With Most Bones Broken in a Single Incident!" A flat drawing of a large trophy cup almost crushed the tiny, redheaded stick figure trying to hold it up with her feeble stick arms. Bowing up and down on either side of her were two moving stick figures wearing jumpers with an F and G. As they bowed and bobbed, little voice bubbles appeared above them that flashed phrases like "we're unworthy!" and a variety of numbers that she assumed were random scores.

She lifted her glance to Bill, who managed to keep a straight face.

They all thought they were hilarious. Every single one of them.

She yawned, unexpectedly. She suddenly felt very tired. "I think that potion is making me sleepy."

"Go to sleep."

Ginny figured she didn't have much choice in that, as another yawn stretched her freckled face. "You're not going back to Egypt right away?"

Bill drew out a small box and began tapping it lightly with his wand. "I'll still be here when you wake up."

"What's that?" She wanted to close her eyes, but the box he was holding had a bit of sparkle to it that was somewhat mesmerizing.

"It's for work." He stared at it, pondering.

"What are you doing with it?"

"Thinking about it."

"Wow. Everyone thinks being a curse-breaker is so amazing. Seems boring. You should play Quidditch." She yawned again, trying to keep her eyes from drifting shut.

"I like my bones where they are, thank you."

"You should also make me a frame for my prestigious award. Don't want the high-quality art wrinkled."

She felt magic in the room and willed her eyes open one last time to see Fred and George's sketch sitting on the bed stand next to her, housed in the most awful, garish, sparkling pink frame she had ever seen. It was exactly the kind of thing a boy would put together for a girl, provided he had never actually met one.

Bill tried not to laugh at his own joke, but he, like the rest of her brothers, thought himself hilarious.

And maybe, thought Ginny, that awful frame sort of was.

Still, it was best not to let on, because it would go to their heads. So, she snorted and her eyelids fluttered closed. "You're still a git."

()()()

Author's Note: Thank you all for reading! I'd also like to send a *huge* thank you to Curse-04, RMWB, and ginnyweasley777 for reading and providing feedback on these early chapters. I so appreciate you!