A lot of times Bill works all day, but Charlie takes me to the zoo or to a Quidditch match or two. And then we’ve got some vicious board games going on. Oooh! And I got my first pet! He’s an absolutely gorgeous Golden Pygmy Dragon, and I named him Renato. We also spend a lot of time playing with him, and Charlie showed me how to feed him, and bathe him. I’m rambling, aren’t I? Truth is that I’m so glad I came down here.
I’ll be home in a week- tell me all about you and that boy you met at the shore then!
A light rap came at her door. “Gin?” came the muffled plea.
“Yeah?” she called back, setting Renato on the corner of the desk and standing up. When the door was opened, a mournful looking Bill was revealed.
“Most of my trousers are dirty,” he said plaintively. “Could you do some laundry for me while I’m out?”
Ginny yawned. “Why not let Charlie do it?”
“Because last time my shirt ended up with conspicuous blotches on it,” he said sullenly.
She sighed and took the basket from him. “Alright, fine. But only one load. I want to go swimming today. And bring home something good for dinner.”
“Right, right,” he said hastily, planting a small kiss on the crown of her head. “You’re the best.”
She rubbed the spot a bit and followed him into the kitchen. The sky outside was an innocent shade of blue now, but she knew it would storm in the afternoon. All the more reason to get the swimming done as soon as possible. She set her brother’s collection of dirtied trousers down and perched on a stool. “Charlie up yet?”
“No, no. He got fairly foxed last night,” Bill said thoughtfully. “Reckon he’ll have a bugger of a headache this morn.”
"Ah," she said for no particular reason, and fetched some utensils. "Breakfast?"
"Pancakes," Bill announced as he scraped a few off onto her plate. She made a face.
"Pancakes are so blah," she told him, but proceeded to eat them after pouring an inordinate amount of sugar on them.
"Normal people use syrup, you know," he commented.
She shot him a look. "Don't you have to be at work or something?"
"Right," he grinned, heading towards the door. Ginny picked up the umbrella by the kitchen counter and launched it at him. He winced as it struck him on the chest.
"You'll need it," she said with her mouth full.
Of course, that was entirely her opinion.
"Brain… hurts," Charlie groaned.
"We can put the stuff down here, Char," she said firmly.
He sighed and complied. "I can't believe you dragged me out here."
She began to strip down to her bathingsuit. "Not my fault that you got so smashed."
"Not so loud," he begged, collapsing onto the sand. He rested his head on the picnic basket.
"Got your anti-sun charm on?" she asked as she tucked her own behind her ear.
He grunted and nodded. Everyone know that only thing worse than a hungover Weasley was a sunburnt, hungover Weasley. Renato fluttered from his perch on Ginny's knapsack onto Charlie's belly. "I think the two of us are going to take a siesta here," he said. "Sleep off this little condition."
She gave him a disapproving look but cavorted off into the ocean.
Ginny’s first thought was that the sea was majestic and wonderful. She admired the glitter of the sun on the distant waters, and wistfully observed playful children. She relished the gentle lapping of the waves over her as she stroked through.
After about a half hour, she had concluded that the sand felt squishy and disgusting, and the salt was burning her throat. She had brushed up against a slimy creature, those children had the nerve to splash her, and she was almost caught by the undertow.
By the time an hour had passed, she was ready to come out.
She brushed off her legs and slipped on a pair of sandals. Sand still sprinkled her body, leaving her feeling itchy. Worst off, she was hungry, and afraid to touch the food with her soiled hands.
Ah hah, she thought, spotting a towel by Charlie, problem solved. She tugged it from underneath the basket, wiped her hands, and removed an apple.
She was just about to chomp when she noticed something missing.
"Where's Renato?"
"Hm?" Charlie asked, opening his eyes.
"Renato. Where is he?"
He waved his arms vaguely to the right. "Right here, I just-" He stopped and frowned. "Well, that's funny."
"Charlie!" she yelped, stomping on the sand. It made a little dust cloud, which Charlie unfortunately inhaled and then caused him to sneeze.
"He couldn't have gone too far," he assured her. "Go check by the bathrooms or the concession stands. The boy's a sucker for chocolate frogs."
She felt absolutely awful. Her first pet, and she lost it within months. She fought the urge to burst into tears and ran up to the nearest lifeguard. "Hi," she said as calmly as humanly possible, "I'm missing a Pygmy Dragon. Has one been turned in?"
The studly specimen looked puzzled but then nodded. "Yeah, one was just reported, but another fellow asked for it. Aren't those pretty rare?"
"Extremely," she said, her voice faltering. Someone had already tried to claim him? "Where can I go see it?"
"Right up past the bathrooms is the guest service desk," he directed.
She thanked him and jogged to the area.
"Hi," she said again, "Has a Pygmy Dragon been turned in today?"
"Yup," said the girl behind the counter. She had a large ring through her nose, which made Ginny wonder how she blew her nose without tearing the tissue and getting the discharge all over her hands. "Strangest thing. Never seen one in my life, and two get turned in on the same day." The girl shook her head in dismay and Ginny's heart quickened.
The girl leaned down, and picked up a case. "I put the bugger in here. Standard case for any pets. Might want to open it on the ground in case they get feisty."
She nodded dumfoundedly, her mind swimming with gratitude. She grasped the case and set it down on the nearby cement.
She opened the latch on the case, and a stunning Pygmi Dragon came out.
Stunningly crimson.
"This," she whispered, "is not my dragon."
"I believe," rumbled another voice from behind. "that it would be mine."
She twisted around. The other was also crouched on the ground, and they began to rise together. Ginny's eyes travelled up his body. His legs were entirely too hairy, his chest too muscley, his chin too angly...
And his eyes too focused on her bosom.
"Malfoy?" she said in disbelief.
"Weasley?" he said in equal surprise.
Her face flushed. She had actually been staring at Draco Malfoy's... oh, dear. What would her brothers think? What would Harry think? "What are you doing here?"
"Well, I was searching for my Celia, here, but you seem to have found her," Draco said in a fairly snobbish tone. He outstretched his hands. "Perhaps you could deliver?"
"Only if you give me back mine," she countered.
"A trade, then," he suggested. He produced a case not unlike the one at her feet, and pulled Renato from it.
The actual exchange of Celia for Renato was somewhat blurred. All she knew was that moments later, she was hugging her beloved pet and weeping and raining promises. "I'll never leave you again," she said fervently.
Draco watched the spectacle in silence, then cleared his throat. "Greta, is it?"
She looked up sharply at the sound of his voice. "Is what?"
"Your name."
"Ginny," she ground out.
"Ginny," he said, clearly nonplussed. "Well then. Don't I deserve some sort of a boon for returning your creature?"
"Of course." Ginny narrowed her eyebrows. "I gave you yours back. Remember?"
Draco took a step closer to her. "Well, yes, but monetary or other forms of compensation would be appreciated."
"You want me to pay you?" she said in outrage. "For simply being an honest person?"
"It's quite out of character for me," he said blandly. "So, naturally, I'd appreciate some sort of reward. If not money, then, we can arrange something."
"You," she flared, jabbing a finger into that overly-toned chest, "are an ass. Do you hear me? An arrogant, idiotic, absolute ass! I have never met someone as asseous as-"
"Ginny?" he interrupted.
"You're ruining my momentum," she accused him, eyes flashing. "You can't even let me have my own little speech! It's all got to be about you! And I won't stand for it, not one-"
His mouth crushed hers and the rest of her sentence was lost. Briefly she struggled, and then... well, then she couldn't think anymore.
It began to rain.
Ginny's consciousness reawakened to find her entangled in his arms.
How long had they stood like that?
How had her fingers gotten in his hair?
Good jebus, was she kissing him back?
She pushed him away and let herself quiver into a puddle of shock. "My first kiss," she said in horror, "was to an asshole."
The rain flitted around them until his silky voice split the air. "Maybe so," he smirked, "but wasn't it good?"
Charlie leaned back and put his ear to the living room wall. "Yup," he confirmed.
Mournfully Bill stared into the glass. "I don’t think Mr. Speckled Hand is going to cheer her up this time."
Both had taken a few more drinks before Charlie spoke up.
"Mr. Speckled Hand used to scare the pee out of her anyways."
Bill frowned. "Are you certain?"
"She would only pretend to laugh so he’d go away."
"I think you’re funning," he scowled. "Mr. Speckled Hand was a light-spirited-"
"Grotesquely splotched area of flesh," Charlie finished.
He harrumphed and sipped his wine.
"I think this is another one of those girl things." Charlie split open a new can and discarded the old onto the floor.
"Well, we both did a stint in drama for a bit," Bill said speculatively. "You pretend to be Mom, I’ll pretend to be.. uh.. someone, and we’ll see if we can get this worked out."
"You know, she’ll work it out eventually," Charlie said, wrinkling his nose as they walked to the guest room. "Why are you so eager to stimulate the process?"
"Because," Bill sighed, "she hasn’t finished my laundry."
Charlie stifled his laughter and opened the door.
Their little sister was spread out of the bed, the sheets all bunched up. The rest of the room was immaculate. "What do you want?" Ginny said, her tear-streaked face lifting from her pillow.
"Hi, Ginny-bumpkins," Charlie greeted in a high-pitched voice. "Tell me what’s the matter."
"What the schazbot is he doing?" she demanded of Bill.
"He’s pretending to be Mom, duh," Bill said, as if it was self-explanatory.
"Mom," she said pointedly, "does not drink beer."
"Well, she does now," Charlie said irritably, then changed into the absurd falsetto again. "Ginny-bumpkins, I just can’t bear to see you in pain. Talk to us."
"Mom does not call me Ginny-bumpkins," she informed him.
"Hey! Who’s Mom here? You or me?" he retorted. "If you don’t like my portrayal, then you’ll have to do better yourself."
"Fine," she snapped, getting off the bed. She was about to do her best impression, oddly contorting her face, when she saw the mirror.
Then she began to laugh. "I’m being awfully silly, aren’t I?"
"Immensely," Bill agreed.
"I’m not going to get all worked up over this," she declared. "So what if Draco Malfoy kissed me? I’m going to completely forget about the entire ordeal."
"Malfoy?" Charlie said in a strangled tone.
"Kissed you?" Bill said, his nausea apparent.
"I told you, I’m going to forget all about it," she reassured them.
The brothers exchanged a stony glance.
"You," Bill said in a clipped fashion, "are going home early."
"Why?" she said in astonishment.
"When strange boys start kissing you," Charlie said sagely, "it is time to get ‘the talk’ from Mom."