YAY! I finally
got a story on SQ! Many thanks to Stella for helping me fix it up…
I hate them. I really do. Every
last freckled one of them.
they could have told me. You’d think they could have some speck of
brotherly compassion in their empty heads. But no. They insist on ruining my
enough that I’m the youngest. Or that I have to start school in a month. No,
they have to embarrass me in front of HIM.
down there. Right now. In my house! He’ll be sleeping in a bedroom
somewhere above mine! I’ll have to eat dinner with him everyday! We might even
talk… like a conversation. He might even… notice…me….
OH yes. I
forgot. Of course he’ll notice me. As Ron’s idiot little sister. Thanks
to that episode a few minutes ago. My brilliant introduction. I hate my
I woke up
this morning to shouting. Indistinct, muffled shouting, but shouting
nonetheless. Since my room is a couple stories up, I couldn’t hear exactly what
was being said, but it had the ringing familiarity of my mum. Fred and
George, was my first thought. I stifled a laugh. Who else would it be? And
they’d been sneaking around for the last week – so I knew something had
been up; apparently it had all broken loose last night. I wanted to go see what
it was. It’s always rather entertaining to see someone other than yourself get
yelled at – especially the twins, since they’re never too bothered by it.
drawn this conclusion, I bounded out of bed and down the creaky staircase, not
bothering to listen more closely as I made my way to the kitchen.
why, of course, I found myself the very unsuspecting victim of a piercing green
stare. HIM. Right there in the kitchen. No warning at all.
have lasted more than ten seconds. His eyes connected with mine. And all I
could think was how? HOW? My brothers. That’s how. And they hadn’t even told
SO yes. I
ran straight into the kitchen and skidded to a halt in my stocking feet. And
looked up to find him looking right back at me. My throat went all dry;
I felt like I was going to choke. And I know my eyes got real big and all
the blood in my body suddenly decided to rush to my face. And, seriously, I
think my heart stopped. For one long second. And he just looked at me.
And then my
brain seemed to turn back on – and all these ideas raced through my head. Like,
“talk to him,” “introduce yourself,” “walk over and sit down by him,” “get
breakfast, just like normal,” or “pretend you came down to ask mum a question.”
But even though my brain had clicked, my body had not decided to function. And
then one more thought came floating up, more awful then all the rest of them.
That I was standing in the middle of my kitchen in my NIGHTDRESS. No dressing
gown or anything. Just my summer nightie.
I wanted to
die right then and there. Crawl into one of the many cracks in our ancient
kitchen tile. Or at least exit gracefully.
instead, I let out a squeak like a strangled bird and flew out of the kitchen,
my heart now painfully loud in my ears. This time I heard the conversation as I
ran. Heard Ron’s muffled and oh-so-kind introduction, and Fred’s louder, “Yeah,
she’ll be wanting your autograph…” And I thought things couldn’t be worse. Now
HE knows. How could he not? Stupid, stupid boys.
stupid me. Why did I do that? Why? Why? WHY? Do I have to be such an
idiot? I had been planning for this meeting since that day on Platform 9 ¾ when
I realized we’d be at school together. And in NONE of my fantasies was I
wearing my nightdress. And in none of them had I been such a little girl about
sitting in my room all morning now. No use going downstairs. I think I’ll stay
up here for the rest of my pathetic life.
noise on the stairs outside my bedroom. I tip-toe to my door and peek out –
just in time to see a blaze of red hair followed by a rather messier mop of
black appear over the landing. I jump
back from my door like it’s burned me – slamming it at the same time. Another
brilliant move. I seem to get the most brilliant reflexes around this
I place my
ear to the door just in time to hear Ron as they continue up the stairs.
“Ginny,” he explains. “You don’t know how weird it is for her to be this shy.
She never shuts up normally --“ Gee, thanks Ron. As if I couldn’t make enough
of an idiot of myself, you have to accentuate it with your charming
does he know about me being shy? I am never very good around strangers –
especially boy strangers. Yes, once I’ve gotten to know them I “never
shut up,” but I have trouble getting over that first hurdle. Or maybe it’s only
with boys I…like. You’d think that having so many brothers would make me
an expert in this area. After all, there should be some compensation for
putting up with all this torment. I should have boys all figured out.
But I’m not
even allowed that small grace.
it’s not like there’s really anyone to talk about this with. I can’t tell my
mum, because next thing I know she’ll probably be blurting it out over the
dinner table to my father or something, or one of her friends. My brothers are
out of the question (laughable thought!), as is my dad. And who else is there?
I don’t really know anyone else. I’ve met a couple girls, but never any
I’ve grown close too. Hopefully at Hogwarts I’ll be able to make some real
I do hope
people like me. It’s so scary, going to school. Of course I’m very excited,
I’ve been hearing about Hogwarts for all of my life. But with so many brothers
– successful brothers, too – I feel a bit… pressured. What if I don’t
get into Gryffindor?! My mum would be so disappointed.
shall get a diary. Then I could tell it all these things I can’t say to my
family. And then maybe I could figure something out.
it. A diary. I’ll ask mum for one when we go to Diagon Alley.