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Disclaimer: Not mine! Waaaaaait . . . Yup, still not mine.
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He. Is. Here. Now. In. The Kitchen.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! YAAAAAAAAAAA! WAAAAAAAAA!
What do I do what do I do what do I do?
Okay. Panic has subsided enough. No, but seriously. I walked downstairs about thirty minutes ago in my humongous hand-me-down-from-Bill pajama Pants with "QUIDDITCH" down the side and a humongous-to-the-point-of-being-almost-indecent shirt of Ron's with "Cannons" on the back and a large orange "Chudley" on the front. And I walk in, smile at Mum, who looks past me and to my right with a very odd expression and says, "Sweet Merlin, I" And then her voice trails off.
There he was. All dirty and funky smelling and with blood on him. But so indescribably Harry. And I felt sick.
He wasn't looking at me, he was looking at the kitchen, at Mum, even at the ceiling, but not me. And of all the times I imagined our reuniting, I was wearing a beautiful dark blue dress and he definitely smelled good, and he was minty fresh. Plus, he was looking at me.
So what can I say? I ran. And here I am now, writing it down in a stupid ugly pink notebook, with the words, "My Diary" written on it in pink letters. Lavender, the ugly cow, gave it to me last year for my birthday when she liked Ron.
I'm afraid of him. I know he doesn't like me anymore. He would've kissed me, even in front of my Mum. He's Harry- he wouldn't care.
And now he's sitting in my kitchen eating food and looking amazing, in spite of being disgustingly dirty.
I don't know what to do, but--
That was Ron. He had come into MY room (one of the advantages of being the only girl) without knocking to "inform me" that "Harry is here now." I "informed him" that if he didn't get out of my room I would Bat Bogey Hex him to the Death Eaters.
Lovely. Now Mum's insisting that I come downstairs to eat. I have nothing to wear that is seductively alluring yet at the same time carefully casual. . .
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So I went down for breakfast in my seductively-alluring-yet-carefully-casual attire. Okay, so maybe it was jeans and a T-shirt. But leave me my illusions, okay?
"Oh, Ginny. There you are." Mum said, looking all flustered. "Help me make some sausages and eggs for breakfast." Sausages and eggs! The best breakfast we usually get ever is pancakes! And then only usually two per person. Harry should so be here every day.
But then I looked around the kitchen and noticed that-hey! There was no Harry! Just a grimy seat from where he had put his bottom. His adorable, lovely . . .
Shut up Ginny! He doesn't like you anymore! Remember the reunion? It didn't really even happen!
I asked Mum where he was, half hoping that maybe he was up in Ron's room writing love poetry to me.
"Oh, Darling, he's taking his bath. He was absolutely filthy when he came in." So much for that one last shining hope. Ah, well . . .
Anyways, I was making the eggs, concentrating on not concentrating on Harry, and in walks Harry. He's all clean now, and his hair was wet, which makes it even messier, which makes me want to run my fingers through it, which makes me think about Harry, which makes me burn the eggs.
"GINNY!" Oops. Burning smell! This can't be good. Yelling mother. This definately can't be good.
And the adorable crossed out annoying git just sat there, smirking. I really want to yell at him. But now mum handed me the burnt pan and a spatula, and gave me the task of cleaning it out. Because apparently, I am not "good for anything else at the moment." Mum went off on one of her tangents. I nodded every now and then, just to look like I was actually listening.
We ate breakfast. I looked at my plate the whole time and ate really, really fast, even though it was all really good.
So now I'm up here again, hiding in my room. Merlin, it's hot. You know what? I've a window and a broom. It's possible that I can open the window, mount the broom, and cool off, without ever seeing Harry! Yesss.
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Well, that was traumatizing. I am scared to come out now.
What happened was this; I was flying around for about an hour. I'd left some water and sweets (hidden in my room for snacks) on the roof. I was getting a bit tired, so I flew over to the roof.
And there was Harry, sitting and staring at his trainers.
"Hello, Harry," I said, trying to make my voice as normal and cheerful as possible. Consequentially, it came out rather high pitched and hyper.
Harry just nodded. He had this really depressed expression. Like- I dunno. Everything had gone wrong. But how could it? He'd come back. That must mean he'd killed Voldemort.
I didn't know what to do- if he wanted me to cheer him up or leave him alone, or what. I just said, "I'll go get my food then." So I got it and ate really fast (again, so now I have a major stomach ache). He left and walked down the stairs in the roof to the attic, to, I assumed the kitchen.
I flew around for another half hour, then decided to go fly back inside my room. The thing is, I sort of miscalculated and smashed into the big old oak in front of Ron's window.
It must have made some noise, because Harry poked his head out of the window, looking adorable and kissable. I was lying, holding my broom with one hand, spread over a branch.
"Ginny?" Said Harry.
"Yes! Now if you would be so kind as to help me in, I would appreciate that greatly." Harry looked a little taken aback. He stuck his hand out and helped me back in. I brushed my self off, but then looked down when, instead of brushing off shirt over my stomach, I brushed my stomach.
I looked down, and instantly turned bright red. The tree had torn off the shirt over my stomach and part of my bra, so I was basically wearing a shrug and a bra. And I couldn't help it- I ran. But not before I noticed Harry was most definitely not looking at my stomach.
Am I that ugly he can't bear to look at me?
I'm never leaving my room again.