Normality

The beige alarm clock that sat on the sleeping Virginia "Ginny" Weasley's dressing table, was perfectly normal. In fact, it was so normal that it had been bought based on its sense of normalcy. Of course, having an utterly normal alarm clock didn't necessarily guarantee that it would be a good alarm clock, as Ginny discovered the morning after she had bought it.

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

"Bloody hell..." muttered Ginny as she tried, unsuccessfully, to quiet down the blasted thing. At this point, it was now wailing like a strangled cat and continually becoming louder. Ginny, fighting with the insane clock, could hear her flatmate Clarissa get up and start to thump towards her room. Ginny struggled harder, sitting upright in bed and bashing the clock down on her headboard. She supposed this wasn't such a good idea as after it began to make even more annoying high-pitched beeps.

"VIRGINIA ANN WEASLEY!" screeched a loud voice, sending shivers down Ginny's spine.

Her flatmate Clarissa Manchester, a self proclaimed thirty-year-old bachelorette-cum-spinster, was scary at the best of times, and, as Ginny rightly assumed, the best of times was not being woken up at six in the morning by your flatmate's maniacal alarm clock. Ducking her head under the pillow and humming "Greensleeves", unofficially known as "The ice-cream truck song", Ginny attempted to drown out the combined effort of both Clarissa and the now "doomed for the tip" alarm clock. Finally, the noise stopped abruptly and Ginny cautiously poked her head out of her covers.

The alarm clock was sitting innocently on its dresser. If alarm clocks had faces, Ginny was sure this one would be smirking. Trying hard to show her twenty-six years, Ginny resisted poking out her tongue. In a nearby chair sat Clarissa, one eyebrow raised and a terror-inducing expression on her face.

"Now, Ginny, what did I say about being woken up at six in the morning?"

Ginny thought for a moment, "Umm, that you didn't like it?"

"That's right, Ginny!" said Clarissa in a falsetto 'kiddie' voice. "Clarissa doesn't like to be woken up at six in the morning!"

Ginny wasn't quite sure, but she felt she was being slightly patronized somewhere in that sentence. Shrugging and pulling herself together, she turned to Clarissa and said in a brisk sort of tone, "Look...I'm sorry for my alarm clock waking you up and all, but it's only the first morning since I bought it! How was I supposed to know it was going to beep so loud?"

Ginny pouted at Clarissa, before whining cutely and turning the puppy eyes on full blast.

"Well I guess I can let you off the hook...THIS TIME!"

"I know...look, I'm really, really sorry. I'll buy you a peanut/strawberry/pineapple ice-cream cone later, ok?"

Clarissa visibly softened, "Can it have sprinkles on top?"

"Sure, you can even have a mint-chocolate stick."

"Okay, you're forgiven. But seriously, Ginny, it isn't healthy to wake up every morning at six. I mean, your office is just around the corner!"

"I know..." Ginny sighed loudly.

"So why do you have to get up so early? Seriously! Most normal people don't get up for work until nine."

"Yes, but my boss depends on me so much. That and he's terrified of his wife. He forgot their anniversary last year. I had to deliver flowers to their house and pretend I was the delivery girl!"

"He's working you too hard," Clarissa contended with crossed arms.

* * * * *

Later that morning at breakfast, Ginny reflected on what Clarissa had said.

"He's working you too hard."

She had never considered this a possibility. She loved her job and the opportunities it presented. Well, that is if you could call normalcy an opportunity. Bringing a spoonful of cornflakes up to her mouth, Ginny considered her need for being normal. She often told herself that she wasn't sure exactly when it started. Truthfully, that was a downright lie. She knew exactly when it had first come to the surface. The diary.

But Ginny didn't like the think about the diary. She had come to know it as "My betrayal."

Aside from that, she suspected the need came from several years of a massive jumbled-up family. It could have even come from seven crazy years at Hogwarts. Ginny was never sure. All she was really sure of was her need to have a boring, average life. The kind where you get the milk every morning and go to bed at night wearing striped PJs. At least that was Ginny's idea of being normal.

She assumed that was why she liked her job so much. It offered her a sense of security to know that she was so needed. Besides, her job was as basic as they come. Ginny was P.A. to the boss of Spellbound, the wizarding travel agency and holiday planner that was situated in Diagon Alley. Her work consisted of mainly secretarial duties, with the added 'benefit' of helping her boss, Franklin E. Smith, with other personal affairs. It paid well, and gave Ginny the opportunity to live in the upper-class section of Diagon Alley with Clarissa, who was a successful Ministry lawyer. Their flat was small but well equipped with a lounge, two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a study, and a kitchen-cum-dining room.

They lived well, but Ginny knew if anything ever happened to put her job into jeopardy, she would be royally screwed.

Now as she sat in the kitchen, munching happily away at the breakfast of her choice ('normal' cornflakes) she realized that if she wanted to meet her 6:30 starting time, she had to Apparate now.

Glancing at her reflection in the mirror, she nodded in approval of her knee length beige skirt and neatly pressed blouse. Grabbing her plain brown coat off the rack, she began to quickly brush her hair.

*Needs a trim!* She thought absentmindedly, holding a strand of bright red hair at arm's length.

Locking that thought into her memorized schedule, she apparated with a loud 'pop'.

* * * * *

Franklin E. Smith paced around his office, scowling.

He had three very important clients that morning, Ginny was late again, and the company's profits were falling rapidly. Growling as he stopped to study the figures that lay out across his desk, Franklin wondered for the sixtieth time that morning where exactly he had gone wrong. When his father had started the travel agency in the seventies, it had flourished beyond belief. Everybody had wanted a piece of what Spellbound could offer, and the profits were huge.

Franklin remembered vividly how he used to watch his father count up the long lists of figures scrawled across the scratchy parchment. He had always known they were well off, and truthfully he had never expected it to change.

"It's the same company for God's sake," Franklin said irritably. "Why do customers feel the need to abandon us? After all I've jolly well done for them!"

Franklin knew why.

In the seventies Spellbound had been a novelty. To have your whole holiday planned out for you was something most people would kill for. Not only that, but they would organize kiddie care, facilities, and tours. It was a dream-come-true.

However, this was the new millennium.

More and more of the same sort of businesses had sprung up. These new competitors, understanding the success that came with this new game had rich investors turning them into massive companies, chains that at any location were accessible. There was really no room in this exciting new industry for a small struggling business, even if it had been a forerunner.

Spellbound was slowly, yet surely, going bankrupt.

Franklin groaned as he stared at the figures, willing them to go away. Finally, he snapped out of his trance long enough to chuck a handful of Floo powder into the fire. Franklin then called for his lawyer, Theodore Bishop.

* * * * *

Ginny landed lightly next to her desk and immediately sat down to sift through the owl mail received overnight.

"Lets see... one from Sissy Specktah. Must get her that Jamaican thing soon... Okay, Okay, Mexico on the list. What? She wants to go to France?" While she was reading, several employees that Ginny considered close friends dropped in to say good morning. One of them, Linda Marthick, who had started this job roughly around the same time as Ginny, stayed to have coffee. The unopened mail lay forgotten in front of them. Linda had become close to Ginny since the day that both of them, as awkward twenty-three year old interns, had run into each other outside the copying room. Now, almost three years later, Ginny still considered Linda as one of her best friends.

"Ginny?"

"Mmm?" said Ginny looking up from her coffee mug.

"Do you really believe all the rumours about 'Travel Land' destroying all the smaller companies?"

Ginny considered this for a moment before shaking her head.

"I really don't think that's happening. Even if it were, we'd have nothing to worry about. Spellbound is practically untouchable."

"I suppose..." Linda trailed off, still not looking that convinced. "Well, I better get going. I have to write up some random catalogue today."

"Bye, Lin, I'll owl you about dinner in a few nights, okay?"

"Sure, Ginny. Ciao, sweetie."

Waving goodbye to Linda through the wide paneled glass windows, Ginny brought all her attention back to the remaining mail on her desk. Most of it was the routine mail they received daily, as well as several junk mail brochures in all their tacky colored glory. One letter, however, stood out. It was red and stamped across it was "urgent".

Ginny wrinkled her nose. It looked like they were due to pay taxes again. She slit open the top, careful not to rip the fragile parchment inside. Slowly unfolding the letter, she began in shocked silence to read, all her securities crashing down on her.


Gringotts Bank
23 Diagon Alley, London
Britain.

Dear Sir,

Your failure to pay back the loan we have bestowed upon your company, "Spellbound Wizarding Tours", has forced us to undertake drastic actions

If we do not receive the set amount of One hundred and 69 thousand Galleons by the end of the month, we will be forced to close you down.

Yours sincerely,

Grindhawk
Chief Goblin, Gringotts bank.

If Ginny had not been already sitting down, she had a feeling she might have fainted. If this letter indicated what she thought it did, Spellbound was in serious trouble. If the company happened to fail...well, then Ginny would be jobless. If Ginny didn't have a job, then she would also become homeless. She didn't even want to think of her situation if that was the case.

Breathing deeply, she snatched up the letter and stormed into Franklin's office. He was talking to a head via Floo.

"You could always get outside investors..." the head was saying.

"But they would tear the company to shreds! Turn it into a gaudy monstrosity!" Franklin yelled back, still not noticing Ginny standing in the doorway.

"Yes, but, Franklin, you really don't have that much of a choice."

"All I WANT is my company back!" roared Franklin.

"Well then, you ought to pay back banks the first time they ask," Ginny cut in quietly from the doorway.

Franklin spun around quickly and shot Ginny a dumbfounded look. Glancing down, he took the letter she was holding, his face suddenly ashen.

"Look, Ginny, it's not what it seems!"

Ginny sighed. "Yes it is. It's exactly what it seems."

"You see Miss -" the head from the fireplace interrupted, before Franklin butted back in.

"You stay out of this, Theo! Oh, Ginny, love, this is my lawyer, Theodore."

"Hello," said Theodore meekly.

"Hi. Franklin, why did you not tell me Spellbound was in trouble? If I had known, I could have budgeted, or something..."

Franklin sighed, before walking over and leaning heavily on his desk.

"Ginny, there's nothing we can do to get out of this. We never could."

Ginny wrinkled her nose and asked in a tight voice, "How can that be? "

"Look," Franklin said, picking up the paperweight on his desk and fiddling with it nervously. "It's nothing we did. It's just the market out there today is crazy. We just can't compete with these bigger firms."

Ginny started to pace, following Franklin's earlier footsteps. "I can't believe this," she muttered.

Theodore's head started to speak again.

"With the Muggle exchange going up, and more and more companies annual causing congestion in the mark -"

"Oh, do be quiet, Theo!" yelled Franklin in exasperation, his face red as he slammed down the paperweight. "Nobody understands what the hell you're yabbering about."

Ginny walked over and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"Look, Franklin, getting mad isn't going to help us. We need to be calm about this."

Franklin took a deep breath and muttered something random under his breath. When he looked up, he had a painful smile on his face. Turning to face Ginny, he said in a calmer voice, "Look, Ginny, I know you've got a lot on your mind lately- what with your birthday coming up and all the family stuff- so just go back to your office and try to concentrate as normal. Theodore and I will figure something out, but I really don't want to drag you into this. Please, just go back to your office."

Ginny gave Franklin a hurt look. She said a quick goodbye to Theodore, and then stalked back across the hall into her office, slamming the door behind her.

She couldn't understand why Franklin would shut her out like that. She had been his loyal employee for three long years. It wasn't always easy, but Ginny had stuck to it and Franklin considered her among his best. She had always helped him with financial troubles, whether it be for work or for his family.

]"I baby-sit for the man, for christsake," muttered Ginny, "How much more can you bloody trust someone?"

It wasn't until she had sat down at her desk, head in her hands, that she let the first tear fall. She wasn't an idiot. She knew that a company without money and seriously in debt had no chance of survival.

"Great," she said miserably. "First the job, then the flat... What's next? Roger?"

The thought of her long time boyfriend, Roger Davies, should have cheered her up slightly, but, in truth, she felt only more depressed. Roger was on the other side of the world right now, in China, researching something about somebody. Famous historians, as Ginny had so patiently discovered, were always on the go. As she started to write a reply to a Ms. Miriby regarding a holiday to Spain, she felt her thoughts drifting again.

This time they fell upon Ron, her older brother by a year. Soon he would be getting married to his long time sweetheart and even longer time best friend, Hermione Granger. Ginny could still remember the day he had announced cheerfully during dinner in June that he was to marry Hermione in March the following year. If Ginny had been surprised, it was nothing compared to Hermione, but, as the doctors had assured them, it was perfectly healthy to pass out when hearing news such as this. Ginny chuckled at the memory. Ron was such an unromantic git. Of course, Hermione didn't seem to mind when she had come to. In fact, they managed to disappear upstairs for several hours.

Ginny sometimes wished Roger and her held the same passion as Ron and his fiancée. But then again, passion was dangerous. You could lose control with those kinds of ideas. At least with Roger, Ginny knew where she stood. They were a professional and proper couple with all the right connections. Of course, there was little love, but truthfully- did love really help in the end?

"No," Ginny assured herself quietly, slitting open a letter viciously. "There is only comfort and fools with false expectations."

* * * * *

The next day little had changed.

The alarm clock, whilst locked in the attic, still managed to disrupt Ginny (and an extremely grumpy Clarissa) by playing radio tunes at full blast - at five o'clock in the morning. If that wasn't bad enough, Ginny had then apparated off to work and endured a full day of her boss walking around her on eggshells. Several 'do-gooder' female employees also waltzed up to her at various points of the day, exclaiming in loud irritating tones, "Why Gin-Gin dear! You look dreadful! Not getting enough beauty sleep, eh?"

"Well isn't that grand!" Ginny snarled. "Aside from being an inch away from living in a cardboard box, I also look like a beast and I have a horrid nickname...Gin-Gin!"

Frank came in to deliver a personal owl that had mistakenly come to him instead of Ginny, and wondered why she was muttering under her breath while snapping various quills in half.
"Uh, Ginny, dear...quills are getting rather expensive these days."

Ginny jerked her head up violently then rolled her eyes.

"Oh. It's you. What's happened this time? The company can't afford parchment. How 'bout we just use loo paper, for fuck's sake."

Ginny had no idea what had come over her. She never, ever lost control. Especially not to her boss.

"You know, I can still fire you."

"There would be no point. It's inevitable." There it was again, that annoying rebellious streak that refused to be repressed.

"Gin, don't be like that. It's not my fault..." he trailed off and stared at the ground, then remembered what he had originally come there to do. Smiling uncertainly, he offered the letter to her. "You've had an owl."

"Thanks," Ginny said snatching the paper he held out.

Throwing his hands up, Franklin left scowling. Whatever had happened to his little Ginny? She used to be so nice.

Ginny scowled heavily as she opened the letter, taking no time to be careful. Soon she was holding a tattered piece of parchment, with the familiar spidery handwriting neatly covering the surface.

Dearest Virginia,

To my happy astonishment, my work here in China was so satisfactory that I was granted a week off to visit home. By the time you receive this I will have already arrived, Apparate-lagged, in my flat. Will you give me the great pleasure of your company at dinner tonight? I am simply dying to tell you all the greatest news about Ling Shi, the most power wizard in China during the last century. I believe he contributed the metal of Bronze as new cauldron material. Changed the whole diameter, really!

Yours,

Roger Michael Davies
(Odeon grand LI award winner, three times in a row)

P.S. Is your delightful brother Percy around this week? I'd simply love to discuss some of this rather spectacular news on cauldron thickness with him. Revolutionary!

Ginny groaned. What a perfect way to end a perfect day.