"To be or not to be a Weasley"
Hey everyone! I'm Adrial! I've just begun writing Harry Potter fiction after spending much time studying the work of others so I wouldn't make a complete and total fool of myself ;-). I hope you like my stuff! This is a light-hearted Ginny fic (or it should be; hopefully I won't get sidetracked) about well, her surname. You'll see. I will say that she's going to get a little help from everyone's favorite slimy Slytherin! heh heh heh... Well, enough babbling! Enjoy my fic and don't forget to review! I really need support if I'm going to continue writing this fic.
*muah!*
~Adrial~
Adrial_06@yahoo.com
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"To be or not to be a Weasley"
Ginny Weasley pinched a freckled cheek determinedly and bit the corner of her mouth out of sheer anxiety. There were red blotches around her nose from her attempt to wipe the obnoxiously ever-present spots from her face, and a headache brewed somewhere behind her temples, bringing a familiar tingle to her nostrils. Her sudden sneeze rocked her mirror slightly and sent waves of thick, rebellious auburn hair flying about her head.
"Ronald! What did I tell you about letting that cat in my room? You know I'm allergic!" She pinched her nose to prevent any other vile, hair-ruining sneezes. But it was just the distraction she needed to keep her from picking apart her very appearance over and over again in the mirror. Looking for someone to accuse as her dear older brother had failed to answer her cry of anger, she found the offending furball coiled delicately on a pile of folded and forgotten laundry beside her dresser.
"Get out, Crookshanks!" She knocked a mound of socks on to the ginger cat's fluffy head and watched with a satisfied smirk as it shook out its fur as if offended and strutted regally out of her room. She thought regretfully of having to rewash all of her clean clothes now that they had been exposed to the cause of her sudden bout of the sniffles.
She loved her brother's long time best friend, Hermione Granger, dearly, but that cat of hers drove her up a wall. Ron had eagerly offered to cat-sit for Hermione's pet as she vacationed in the south of Italy with her parents, grinning widely--a bit too widely if you asked Ginny, and she snorted at the memory of him groaning in disgust at the fluffy nuisance after he'd caught it chewing the bristles of his Comet Two-Sixty playfully.
"Now...back to-" Ginny paused abruptly, listening at the tell-tale sound of a POP! of somebody apparating right outside the front door below her window.
"Oh, God. He's early! WHY did he have to be punctual on top of everything else?!" She kicked off the fluffy pink slippers she had sworn to herself no one would ever know about and slid her feet into slightly heeled shoes, remembering to lean forward slightly so as not to fall and potentially render more damage to her intricately styled hair.
She took a moment to glare at a stack of magazines pooled on her bedspread, scorning every perfectly proportioned teen witch that graced the covers offering 'candid secrets to a truly magical lifestyle' and wondered where the fine print was that informed readers that tips only applied if you were either half-veela or had loads of galleons to throw away on hair potions and designer witches' outerwear.
"Now, Ginny-kins, if you glare like that you're going to get wrinkles," A bemused voice said from her doorway. Ginny whirled on her brother, deepening the glare she had had 15 long years to perfect.
"Sod off, Ronald; I'm in not in the mood." She rolled her eyes mentally and turned back to her bed where her black cloak lay covered, to her deep dismay, in patches of ginger cat hairs.
"Crookshanks!" Grumbling, she fumbled for her handy lint-roller on her dresser which was littered in hair-shining potions and bags of multi-colored glosses and shimmering shadows and rolled it furiously up and down the folds of her cloak.
"Oi! That's Hermione's cat you're growling over!" He responded half-heartedly, thinking longingly of the day Hermione would return and relieve him of his feline burden. His eyes fell over Ginny once more and darkened at the sight of her v-neck shirt and denim skirt, which, in his opinion, was fit for an actual GIRL--not his little sister.
"Y-You're not wearing that?" He stuttered, ready to dig through her closet until he found a baggy sweater and sweatpants (suitable clothing for his sister, at least).
"Oh, come off it, Ron. I look...fine," She ended her statement with a weary glance in her mirror, wondering if she, in fact, did look fine. Ron caught her look of hesitancy and wondered when the sole Weasley girl would realize how beautiful she was? Of course, you'd have to pay him a thousand galleons before he ever told her that. It'd be breaking the Weasley Code of Sibling Rivalry.
Ginny rolled her eyes at her mirror and brother and gave up. She'd spent the entire summer damning puberty to hell and back for giving her curves she had no idea what to do with and, well...other womanly things. She thought fondly of the attention she had begun getting from boys that summer. She had managed to keep a cool composure, hiding the slightly queasy feeling she felt every time she caught a member of the opposite sex eyeing her like Hogwarts feast and frantically owling Hermione whenever she needed any answers to questions she was sure would send any one of her seven brothers into seizures.
"Whatever. Have you seen my other black cloak? I can't remember that de-linting charm Mum always uses and he's already here. This," She lifted the temporarily ruined cloak and tossed it into the pile of Crookshanks' other victims, "is a lost cause."
Ron narrowed his eyes, "Who? That Payton wanker? I heard Fred and George let him in. He's probably battling with a 10 foot tongue by now," He smirked at the thought.
"WHAT?!" Ginny roared and flew past Ron, making sure she shoved him hard enough to make him stumble and trip over his own feet, flying haphazardly onto her miss-matched carpeted floor.
She flung herself down the endless flights of rickety steps of The Burrow, passing a disgruntled Harry who gave her a quizzical glance before yawning and trudging back to the sound of Ron's moans as he nursed a bruised elbow.
Finally, the last flight loomed before her and she could hear the sound of muffled voices. Please don't let them hurt him. Please don't let them hurt them. Please, please, please, PLEASE. She mentally chanted and triumphantly landed on the last step, only to trip over a basket full of freshly laundered Weasley robes.
Ginny landed in a tangle of fiery curls and dish towels at the foot of the stairs, spitting out mouthfuls of her hair and struggling to stand, praying that no one had seen her less than graceful entrance.
"Wow, Gin. Nice landing! I give it a 6.5," George Weasely smiled devilishly from a few feet away.
"Nah, I wouldn't put it past a 5. She didn't even slide across the floor or anything." A mirror image of his brother, Fred Weasley chuckled good-naturedly and stooped to help his sputtering sister off of the floor.
"Wh-Where is he?" Ginny squeaked, taking notice of the absence of her date and fear curled up in her stomach.
Fred let go of her and gave George a reproachful glance. "Now, Ginny, our dear, sweet, forgiving little sister--"
"Fred," Ginny grabbed the collar of his sweater and yanked his face inches from her, "What-have-you-done-to-him?" Her tone was frigid and he gulped at the sight of his little sister so enraged.
"We couldn't help it! He was just too-too," George searched for the right words, "He needed to loosen up, Gin! You should be thanking us for doing the poor bloke a favor."
Ginny groaned aloud. She did not want to imagine what Fred and George's idea of 'loosening up' would entail. With a final glare, she flung Fred aside and raced out of the front door and into the dusk-lit yard in front of The Burrow. A garden gnome skittered past her legs giggling madly and hurled itself into a bush. Ginny blinked into the rapidly darkening night. Suddenly, the sound of footsteps startled her and she whirled around. A horrified scream escaped her lips.
"G-G-Ginny, G-G-Ginny, p-pl-please, m-m-make it-t, st-stop!!" Brad Payton, possibly the most attractive Hufflepuff 6th year ever to grace the corridors of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was flailing about the yard, legs and arms jerking in all directions in an infinite and crude type of dance. He suddenly stopped the frantic dance moves and twirled in the air, two hands arched delicately above his head like a ballerina, a type of muggle dancer Hermione had told her about that usually danced in pink, fluffy robes and were mostly, well--girls. Ginny's heart stopped.
"Brad! Oh, no! Just-just...oh, Merlin! Hang on!" She wheeled around just as he began break dancing on the grassy earth and tackled Fred to the ground.
"Frederick Archibauld Weasley! If you don't stop him I'm going to make you wish you'd never been BORN!" She roared, rearing back in order to punch the chuckles right out of him.
"Oi! Ginny! Calm down! Did you have to use my middle name?" He struggled to break free from her clawing hands. George appeared in the doorway, followed closely by Ron and Harry who got one glance at Brad doing the Funky Chicken and doubled over in laughter.
"George! I hope you like being 1/2 of a twin, because if one of you doesn't fix this right now--"
"Alright, alright! I'll have him fixed up in no time. Don't get your knickers in a bunch." George jogged over to Brad, who was panting and helplessly being forced back into a rendition of Swan Lake, and held up his wand.
"Finite Incantantem!"
Immediately, Brad fell in a heap of robes to the ground, panting roughly and swearing.
"Mental *pant* you're all *pant* bloody *pant* mental!" And with that, he scurried to his feet and ran bow-leggedly down the drive until he became no more than a speck down the road.
"No! Brad! Come back!" Ginny called after him, but it was no use. Her hand fell to her sides limply and she turned back to face four sheepish looking boys. In a flurry of tears and robes, she flew back into the house, up four flights of stairs, and landed with a thud on her bed, cursing the day she ever was born with the last name Weasley.
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Ta da! First chapter! I'm so excited about writing Harry Potter fiction now! This is my 2nd attempt and I really hope you take the time to review it so I'll know whether I should continue or not. Adios!
PS: I know "Archibauld" probably isn't Fred's middle name, but I thought it sounded funny so I used it! :-p heh heh heh...
~Adrial~
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