Ginny's Crush

The next morning, Ginny woke late, still clutching the tremendous book affectionately. She turned over and threw the blankets over her head, desperately trying to block out the sun streaming in the high windows. He'd been in her dreams before, but never like this. Everything felt right. Her hand fit perfectly in his, her head resting on his shoulder . . . she could've stayed that way forever. But someone pulled the pillow out from under her head at exactly the moment when she'd dozed off. She threw the blanket off angrily, preparing to flog whoever had done it. She was met by the huge icy blue eyes of her roommate, Ellie Porter. She looked taken aback by the crazed look in Ginny's eyes, but delivered her message with no little confidence.

"Your brothers are looking for you," she stated, staring back at Ginny as the latter breathed heavily, trying desperately not to just smack her friend.

"Which ones? You'll have to be specific; I've got a few of them."

Ellie looked at her as though she were daft. "Fred and George."

"Goody." She threw her blanket at her friend, who looked confused. Ginny glared expectantly for an instant, then, shaking her head unfamiliarly, said "Well, tell them I'll be down in a minute."

She nodded and left, but looked back at Ginny several times on her way out of their dormitory. "What?" she spat after her. She hauled her ass out of bed, and headed for the girls' bathroom to get dressed. Twenty minutes later, she appeared in the common room. When she sat down between her twin brothers, Fred made a face. "Gin, you're . . . pretty or something."

Ginny made an equally nasty face back at him. Then, she supposed, she'd done well. She'd straightened her hair and borrowed some of Parvati Patil's makeup. She was wearing a tight olive green tank top and hip hugger jeans, neither of which were hers, of course.

"And you smell," said George screwing up his nose exaggeratedly.

"It's called 'Arctic Rose'. Do you like it?"

He smirked at her, but said nothing.

"So what was the big deal, you getting Ellie to get me out here?"

"Well, as for Ellie," Fred groaned, "she's a bitch, but we wore her down. But that's not the point. We 'overheard' your little conversation with 'Mione last night." He snickered, pocketing what looked suspiciously like an extendable ear.

Ginny closed her eyes, waiting for it, her face reddening to the tips of her now calm but fiery hair.

"We want to help."

Ginny's eyes jerked open. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. This had to be a joke. "Haha, very funny boys."

"Really, Gin, you don't trust your own brothers," cried George, hands over his heart.

Fred raised his eyebrows at her, putting on his best puppy dog face.

"Fine," said Ginny, "But what the hell are you gonna do . . . and why? What's in it for you?"

George gasped. "Are you saying that you don't think that two fantastic older brothers such as ourselves can't simply help their favoritest little sister in her time of need, and not have some ulterior motive?"

"Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying."

"I'm appalled!" cried Fred melodramatically, "don't you know that we would do anything for you even to the point of our own detriment?" He wiped a tear from his eye, then grinned hopefully.

"Okay. Fine. I won't ask. But what exactly are you going to do?"

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

16 Townview Drive, Hogsmeade

Ginny stared at the piece of parchment laying in the sink in front of her. She cleared a space in the steam on the mirror to check her appearance. Her hair was wet, and dripping on the fluffy red carpet beneath her feet. Her arms were crossed on top of her chest, and a large yellow towel was wrapped around her body. She tugged on the bottom of her shabby garment, sending it falling to the floor. She stared at her reflection in the glass, examining herself. Her legs were shorter than average, but she was glad to see that she hadn't yet inherited the dreaded Weasley women's backside. She laughed at herself, looking in the mirror that way. After all, I have nothing to worry about, right? So why should I? I've got what I want . . . Don't I? . . . Even though her heart told her that this was true, her head was having serious doubts. What if he was just playing around with her as a joke? What if this was all one of the twins' elaborate plans? It seemed highly likely, as now they were trying to get her to go to a party in Hogsmeade, simply because they knew he'd be there. It seemed too good . . . too interesting to be true. Why would the twins want to set Ginny up with a guy anyway? She'd always figured they would be more of the types to beat up any boy who looked at her. But now they were . . . She jumped as a door opened. She quickly pulled the towel up over herself as Hermione stepped out of one of the showers.

"Oh." She let out a brief gasp, then walked over to the sink beside Ginny, scantily clad as well in a sky blue towel. "What's this?" She asked suspiciously, plucking the parchment out of the sink with a fervent look at her friend.

"Nothing," Ginny exclaimed, trying desperately to tear the paper away from her.

"Oh," Hermione droned. "Yes, I was invited to that too. Don't think I'm going though. Don't want to set a bad example . . . "

And with that, she walked out the door, Ginny scrambling to get to her, twenty feet behind.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"'Mione, you have to!"

"I do not have to."

"Have some fun!"

Hermione shook her head harder than ever. "There is no way I'm going to some fifth year's lame excuse for a party. It's just another reason to get drunk."

Just when the conversation was looking hopeless, Ginny had an idea. "Ron will be there."

Hermione jumped, and turned to her friend with a forcedly nonchalant look on her face. "Well, if you really need me . . . "

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"But Ron, you have to go!"

"What about practice?"

"Dean and Seamus are going."

"Yeah, well they don't exactly need the practice, do they?"

In their sixth year, Dean and Seamus had become Gryffindor's new star Beaters.

"Hermione's going."

Ron's head snapped up, sending little droplets of sweat flying across the room.

"W-well, umm," he stuttered, looking back nervously, "I guess. I mean if you really want me to . . . "

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

So that night, at eight o' clock, Ginny made her way down to Hogsmeade. As she walked down Townview Drive, she saw nothing but a small, ramshackle shed at the end of a long dirt road. For a minute, she looked at it, wondering whether she'd gone down the wrong road, then turned around, embarrassed, convinced she'd simply fallen for another one of Fred and George's stupid pranks. That was when Ellie stuck her head out.

"Is that you Ginny?"

She started at the sound of her name. She turned slowly around. "What are you doing here?"

Her friend stared unbelieving back. "Why, I'm Fred's date." She laughed as the boy appeared, taking her arm and sweeping her inside the hut, his deep, bellowing laugh resounding in the still night air. Shrugging, Ginny followed. The sight that greeted her at the door knocked her backwards a few feet. A large, glowing red ball lay in the middle of a dimly lit bar that looked like it had come straight out of the fifties. Loud rock music boomed from one corner which Ginny could not see properly. Taking a few steps closer, an eerie, pulsing screen loomed into view, which, she noticed, was being controlled by a tall, handsome boy around her age. Michael Corner. Searching the surrounding area, she was pleased to see that Cho was nowhere to be seen. She laughed to herself. Of course she wouldn't be there. She'd graduated just the year before, and was probably happy to get out of the place. She turned, feeling quite a bit better, to take a look around. Behind the counter, trying, and failing, to make a margarita, was George. Sitting in front of him, to Ginny's great surprise, was Ron, chatting with Luna, his hand on her thigh. Both clutched bottles of a blood-red liquid identified on the label as Ogden's Old Firewhisky. They were deeply engrossed in conversation.

"But I thought Crumple-Horned Snorkacks only came out at night," moaned Luna sadly.

"Nope!" cried the boy, slapping her on the leg so that she flinched. "I saw one clear as day on . . . " he counted on his fingers, "Tuesday. On the pitch."

"Hmm . . . " she crooned, putting her hand under his chin, "Yes, I think I saw that one too."

The sight was making Ginny sick, so she sat down at the other end of the highly-polished, sparkling, red counter. George came over, his shirt stained with at least ten different alcohols, and his breath smelled like more.

"Margarita?" He groaned, leaning down in front of her, "I reckon I've nearly got it."

She nodded.

"Which one?" cried her heavily intoxicated brother, pointing vaguely to a row of bottles.

"That one," she said pointedly, looking at the drink in George's hand.

"Mm-mm. Mine." She shied away from his vile breath as he leaned towards her, nearly slipping over the counter. "How about...that one?" He pointed to a rather disgusting-looking specimen, but Ginny agreed.

Even after one sip, her mind was spinning. She pushed herself off the barstool, and tottered over to where Lavender sat, gazing glassy-eyed at Parvati, who was busy in the corner, snogging some boy she couldn't make out in the faint light.

"Why does she get all the hot ones?"

"Well, I think she might be . . . " she started, but at that exact moment, Hermione walked in. "Oh shit."

She ran over to join her best friend, who took one look at her and began her reprimand. "Ginny Weasley, If you've been drinking . . . "

"What? You'll tell my mommy? Come on, 'Mione! It'll do you some good." She held the glass to the Head Girl's lips, beckoning her to drink. She pulled away.

"No! I think I'll stick with a nice butterbeer, thanks."

Ginny grinned. She knew better than to think that George would ever give her a "nice" butterbeer. She watched as Hermione got steadily more tipsy, never realizing that, in fact, she'd gotten the full-strength stuff instead.

"So where's Ron, anyway? You said he'd be here." She leaned out, almost falling off her stool. Ginny leaned out in front of her, blocking from Hermione's view the boy and girl behind her who were getting friendlier and friendlier, not noticing that anyone was watching.

"I don't know," she lied. "Haven't seen him."

"Hmph," she snorted. She looked just the slightest bit ruffled. "Well, if he thought he could . . . hmm . . . " She stopped in the middle of her sentence, as Parvati turned, revealing her escort as Justin Finch-Fletchley. Hermione giggled. "That looks like fun." She snickered, ogling at the pair. She narrowed her eyes in a mock-serious search. Her hunt yielded no results. "It's official," she sighed, "all the good ones have been taken." She added the last bit with a quick peek over Ginny's shoulder. Ginny leaned out again, hoping for the best. "Oh, Gin," she heaved, as though Ginny were utterly daft, "don't be a prat. I can see them. Bit hard not to."

She laughed, a high, girlish laugh quite unlike her own. To Ginny's surprise, she got up and walked over to The Two That Had Become One, and watched for a second in amusement before clearing her throat loudly.

"Ah!" she cried as they pulled away slowly, and very reluctantly. "Yes, I see. Well, okay." The entire contents of the bar drew one long breath as she did something no one had ever expected. She kissed a girl. Luna pulled away quickly, but Hermione considered her for a minute before speaking. "Mmm, yes, she does kiss well, Ronniekins, but the ickle boy could do better." She licked her lips impatiently, and Ron watched, horrified. "Want to see?" She pulled his chin down (even sitting he was taller than she), and consumed him in a deep, hungry kiss. He placed both his hands in the small of her back, drawing her ever upwards, but she fell, unconscious, on the floor.

Ron's looked at her, with no change in expression whatsoever. "What do we do now?"

George's arm appeared over the bar, eventually followed by his head. "Leave her. She's not used to the drink. She'll come around."

Fred, however, bent down beside her.

"I'll take her outside. The fresh air will do her good." He slipped his broad, athletic arms underneath her and carried her limp body out into the cold, dark, night. Seconds later, they heard a scream.

"Fred Weasley! I cannot believe you would try to . . . "

"Try to what? Help you? Oh, I'm so sorry, your highness. So next time I'll check before dragging your drunk ass out of a very bad situation."

"No, next time, you won't let your brother get me drunk!"

Eventually, everyone lost interest and went back to what they'd been doing before. Ginny ordered three more drinks before she barely noticed the hoarse shouts coming from outside. She gazed around the room, at an utter loss for what to do. In a corner, she noticed Dean whispering something to Seamus, his tongue trailing the edge of his best friend's ear.

"Well that's something you don't see every day." Came a voice from her left. Susan Bones sat, leaning back, on the stool next to her. Ernie MacMillan poked his head over her shoulder, his gorgeous dirty blond curls falling delicately in front of his eyes. She smiled down at him, then stood up, weaving drunkenly about. She swayed dangerously, feeling her knees getting weaker and weaker. She took her drink and made to go talk to Fred, who had just come back in, looking deeply troubled, but she found that she couldn't move. Her vision went blurry, sending her stumbling out the door. Next to her, she could hear Hermione's soft breathing. She was sleeping. Ginny tripped, falling onto the cold, wet grass. It was raining, but it was only a slight drizzle. She lay there, she never knew how long, until she felt a pair of large, strong hands lifting her cold, wet body. She heard a familiar voice shouting after whoever had taken her. It was George.

"Put my sister down now! She's fine, leave her!" He sounded very angry.

"I won't," called a voice from above her, which she assumed belonged to her rescuer. There was something reassuring about that voice, something that made her shiver. She pulled whoever it was closer to her, nestling her head in his neck, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as he spoke again. "You'll only get her more drunk."

"Leave her with me," said George. He sounded absolutely exasperated. "Leave her with her brother."

"Why? You obviously don't care much for her . . . letting her get like this! I can't believe you, Weasley. I trusted you before, you know that? I just . . . just leave, please?" His voice was calmer now. "I promise I'll take good care of her."

"Fine," slurred George, "but if you do anything to her..."

"I won't."

And as he carried her away in his arms, she slept, and felt perfect.