The Other Potter. Book Four.

After the Quidditch match.

“Don’t tell your mother you’ve been gambling,” Mr. Weasley implored Fred and George as we all made our way slowly down the purple-carpeted stairs. 

“Don’t worry, Dad,” said Fred gleefully, “we’ve got big plans for this money. We don’t want it confiscated.”

Mr. Weasley looked for a moment as though he was going to ask what these big plans were, but seemed to decide, upon reflection, that he didn’t want to know. 

Good choice.

Make a list of things that are irritating me right now:

-Annoying headache

-Throbbing head

-The pain in my brain

-Pulsing in my skull

-The fact that I can’t think of another way to describe my headache.

-Harry’s questions.

-Failure to find a reason why I am making a list in my head.

I’m a bit weird...just a little bit.

AHAHAHHAHAHAHA! I made a funny. I’m a little bit weird...I’m so full of crap.

We were soon caught up in the crowds now flooding out of the stadium and back to our campsites. Raucous singing was borne toward us on the night air as we retraced our steps along the lantern-lit path, and leprechauns kept shooting over our heads, cackling and waving their lanterns.

“Llama. Llama. Alpaca. Sheep. Lemon. Fruit. DEMON PIGS!” I said as we walked.

When we finally reached the tents, nobody- but me - felt like sleeping, and given the level of noise around us, Mr. Weasley agreed that we could all have one last cup of cocoa together before turning in.

I told everyone I was nearly dead, and so I went to the other tent, changed and I climbed into my bed.

From the other side of the campsite I could still hear much singing and the odd echoing bang. 

I lay in bed, unable to sleep despite the fact I had wanted to all night, and stuff ran through my mind.

I think I can finally let it all go.

My Father – Lucius Malfoy I mean – and all of the hell and misery he put me through. I think I will actually be able to move forward in my life.

Wow. I actually feel a bit better. Which is like an amazing amazement.

I’m really not good with words.

And...well...I think I’m in love with George.

That’s it. I’ve said it.

I don’t know if it is some iffy teenage love thing, but I don’t think it is. I think this is real.

Of course, every teen love story the girl thinks she is really in love, but the guy is faking it and breaks her heart....

But what if it is the other way around? What if I’m too indecisive and I end up breaking his heart? Could I live knowing I crushed his heart? He will probably break my heart if I pour it out to him right? Or we will both be so deeply in love that the world stands still...

I watch too many movies.

Now, I must sleep.

I must have drifted off into sleep, because I heard Mr. Weasley’s voice.

“Willow, get up! Ginny, Hermione, come on now, get up, this is urgent! Willow, come on!”

I rolled out of bed and onto the floor.