Scarlet

Hoops and Wheezes

"You do know how to aim, don't you?" Ginny groaned as she fought the urge to throw a bat at her useless oaf of a brother.
"In case you haven't noticed, my job is to protect the hoops, not aim at them!" Ron roared, causing Harry to put a warning hand on his shoulder.
"I think the entire school has noticed what you do," And then she murmured under breath "or what you don't do."
A surprising fit of laughter burst through Harry's mouth, which he tried to cover with a loud cough. Ginny smirked to herself and kicked off from the ground, letting her broom take her higher up.
"Come on, Nosey." She called. "Let's finish this game before Hermione throws her broom away."
"Hey! That was mean." Hermione's bushy hair spoke volumes as she soared in the air, fighting the urge to vomit. It was no secret that she preferred to be rooted on the ground. Ginny, on the other hand, had become so adept at flying (thanks to Fred and George) that she even left Harry speechless. Being fully aware of her now being in fifth year, that is her O.W.L year, her desire to stay afloat skyrocketed to another level. Not even the panic-laden atmosphere of when the three dimbos got their results could dissuade Ginny from the prospect of trying out for the Gryffindor Quidditch Team. Of course, Seeker was no longer an option; and to be fairly honest, Ginny thought that a position like that of a Chaser would fit her better. Maybe she could have a word with Harry the next time they are alone.

Which might be ages from now. The surprising disappointment that Ginny felt was thrashed immediately by the sound of a blocked-nose trumpet.

"'Ello 'Arry, you do well!" 

Ginny's groan spread through the perimeter, followed by Hermione's very eloquent "Oh, for Heaven's sake!" It was clear as the day that both the girls were now sick of being babied by the French grandmother Bill was so in love with, and from the looks of it, Harry and Ron as well. It was one thing to be outshone by the French beauty, but it was another thing to be on the receiving end of her patronizing tone. Ginny was determined to not let herself be treated like a four-year-old. It is a good thing that her boyfriend does not share walls with The Burrow.

"Geeny, 'oney, your mother wouz like to zee you." If Ginny were on the ground, she was sure she would be smothered with Phlegm by now. It was a brief moment, but when Ginny's eyes met Harry's they both struggled to not fall from the broom, crying and laughing. Apparently, the Phlegm joke makes the lad laugh a lot.

"Right, I will go and blow my nose. There's too much Phlegm." Ginny says loudly and an air of pride follows as she hears guffaws behind her. However, she does not miss the condescending look Fleur throws in her direction, which Ginny responds to with a low yet audible "what a cow." 

Perhaps it would be good thinking to not let Fleur serve Ginny the stew tonight.

* * *

The tiny perfume bottle of scented flowers sitting quietly on Ginny's bedside table is the only good thing that came out of the entire French enterprise. Ginny hasn't really been that close with Bill and Charlie, what with the age gap and the distanced ideology clash that usually follows; she feels closest to the twins, quite often their partner in crime. However, she really thought that Bill would settle for someone who fits the perfect British witch image that apparently Mum spearheaded. Maybe she should just accept his decision and try to respect it. After all, love comes in all forms, and one must be strong enough to embrace it.

These are the thoughts that haunt Ginny Weasley as she gets ready for their yearly visit to the Diagon Alley. Thankfully, they will be able to see Fred and George's new joke shop. Ever since she realized that her brothers had been serious about running the business, she did her best to support them. Fred even told her about the source of all the money they got hold of when she hammered question after question on his head. It took her days to wrap her mind around the fact that Harry really handed over his Triwizard Tournament winnings so that the twins could work toward their dream. At that very moment, Ginny made room for another galleon of respect for that boy who did not walk around with an air of superiority. No wonder Mum sees him as her own son sometimes.