Ginny

Chapter 2

Ginny

Ginevra Weasley awoke from her peaceful slumber to the gentle touch of small fingers stroking her crown. She opened her eyes and rested her gaze upon the tall red-haired man who she had known all her life. However, for some reason, his name escaped her recollection.

The well-dressed, dapper young man stood tall and folded his arms, sporting an all too familiar grin on his face. "Well, well, the sleeping beauty finally awakes. If you had languished for much longer, sis, I would have given serious thought to commissioning the services of a frog."

"What nonsense are you talking, Fre—er—George?" Ginny replied. "And what are you doing in my room?"

George snorted and regarded the figure standing on the other side of the bed. "She must've bumped her head harder than we thought, Luna."

This prompted Ginny to take notice of the slight figure standing over her who had been stroking her hair. Luna Lovegood smiled when Ginny's bright brown eyes met hers. "Good morning, Ginny. Do you know where you are?"

At first the question seemed innocuous until Ginny got a lay of the tiny sterile room. The smell of antiseptic lingered in the air. "What am I doing in St Mungos?" She sat up and winced as the blood rushed from her head. She put her hand to her forehead and took notice of the bandage dressing a painful wound thereon.

Luna grabbed her friend's shoulders and eased her head back onto the pillow. "Easy, Ginny. I want you to lie still while I have a look at you." She retrieved a pair of oddly coloured spectacles from her pocket and put them on, seemingly unaware of George's amusement in that the glasses made her look like a demented, multi-coloured owl.

Ginny smiled; her friend's eccentricities reminded her of why she loved Luna so. "So, do you see any Nargles about?"

"That's a silly thing to ask when everybody knows that Spectrespecs are used to detect wrackspurts," Luna replied as she examined Ginny through the coloured lenses. "What's the last thing you remember?"

Ginny closed her eyes and concentrated for several seconds. "The Quidditch finals!" she gasped. Did we win?

"Did. You. Ever!" George said; his grin returned. He tossed a copy of today's Quibbler—hot off the press—onto his sister's bed.

Ginny picked up the newspaper as the magically animated picture on the front page immediately caught her attention. There she was, making the game-winning catch of the elusive Golden Snitch, when she lost control of her broom and took a header into the opposing team's goalpost. She grimaced: the picture looped over and over, prompting her to revisit the bandage on her forehead. She frowned when she read the headline:

HARRY POTTER'S GIRLFRIEND TAKES A TUMBLE

"How long have I been unconscious?"

"Only since last night," George said. "The healer said your surgery went very well, but they want to keep you here for a couple of days to make sure you don't suddenly drop dead from an aneurysm, or something to that effect."

Ginny rolled her eyes, quite immune to her brother's unconventional wit after nineteen years. "I have to sit in this dreadful room for two days?"

"Not to worry, sis. I took the liberty of grabbing a few things from your flat, including some fresh reading material, bibliophile that you are." With that, George took out his wand and invoked, "Accio suitcase!"

So commanded, the luggage by the door levitated to the centre of the room and magically unzipped itself, allowing the contents therein to egress and settle into their assigned places.

Ginny folded her arms, akimbo, while she waited for the spell to run its course. "So… you broke into my flat and rummaged through my things, did you?" she said with a reprimanding glare toward George.

"That's what brothers are for, dear sister; there's no need to thank me."

She bolted upright. "THANK YOU?" The pain from the effort immediately reminded her of her head injury.

"You're welcome," he teased. "And don't worry, I did not see the whips and chains stowed under your bed, nor did I see the pictures of Harry, bound and gagged, with you laying into him with an eight inch—"

"Shut up, prat!" She then looked to Luna, horrified, and said, "Luna, he's joking!"

"I know that." Luna giggled. "You're lucky to have had a brother to grow up with. I always wanted one of my own."

Ginny snorted and waved George off dismissively. "Take this one… I've got five others." When her brother levitated the books atop the end table, Ginny regarded them with renewed interest, and she removed the topmost one from the stack. "Actually, George, how did you know that I haven't gotten around to reading these yet?"

"Elementary, my dear sister: those books were still in pristine condition—not one of their pages are folded inward."

Luna's brow furrowed at George's observation, and she questioned, "What do you mean by, 'folded inward'?"

"Rather than to dog-ear her pages—like a normal person—my sister has this annoying habit of folding her pages lengthwise into the spine when she wants to mark her place."

"Well, it's better than dog ears, i'n't it?" Ginny said in defence. "Folding on the corners warps the book, whereas folding evenly along the spine allows the book's very weight to maintain its shape even after folding and unfolding multiple pages."

Luna regarded Ginny with a blank stare. "Why don't you just use a bookmark?"

At that, George threw up his arms in righteous exasperation. "Thank you, Luna! I only wish Harry had the stones to ask her that!"

Undeterred, Ginny began thumbing through her novel, saying, "If it bothered Harry so, I imagine he would tell me directly."

"Not if he wants to keep shagging you." George's grin had never been broader. "He'd've learnt to keep his mouth shut, wouldn't he?"

"Damn right, he would," Ginny replied absentmindedly, no longer paying her brother any mind as she delved into her new novel.

George's expression soured at the new found thought of any bloke getting a leg over his baby sister. Retreating to the foot of the bed, he decided to change the subject. "Well, seeing as how you'll live, sis, I think I'll tell the rest of the clan that you're all right."

"Shit," Ginny cursed under her breath. "Wait! Do me a favour, and tell everyone that I'm still sleeping it off, will you? I can't deal with mum and dad flipping out on me right now."

"What about Harry?" George said.

"That goes double for Harry," she snapped.

George shrugged. "Whatever you say, Gin." It was an odd request, but he was not one to dwell on such things. "Say, Luna, how about I take my newly adopted sister out for brunch, eh?" Smiling, Luna joined George at the foot of the bed and eagerly accepted his proffered arm.

Ginny eyed the two of them over the top of her book when her gaze was drawn to her uncovered feet. "Er, why am I wearing my shoes in the bed?

"I took the liberty of putting your boots on," Luna answered matter-of-factly. "It'll keep your feet warm in case you were to walk about in your sleep."

Ginny chortled at the fact that she had failed to notice that she was wearing shoes all this time. "That's a nice gesture, Luna, but I know for a fact that I don't sleepwalk." She then kicked off her boots—exposing the dirty, blackened soles of her feet.

Unawares, Ginny returned to her book, while George and Luna shared a knowing look as they left the room together.

"Er, planning on keeping those glasses on, are you?"

"Of course I am, George."

"Next time bring an extra pair." His grin returned. "You wouldn't want me to stick out like sore thumb, now, would you?"