Miss Ginny (ginnyweasley) wrote in riddikulus,
@ 2008-03-05 09:25:00

When: Tuesday, November 25th, 1997, Late at night
Where: Gryffindor Common Room in front of the large fireplace
Who: Ginny Weasley and Neville Longbottom
What: Sleepover! But without hair braiding, face masks, and Truth or Dare. Possibly with gossip and squealing. But very masculine squealing on behalf of Neville, natch.
Status: In progresivo
Rating: Fun for all

Ginny frowned at her stick, two sad lumps of marshmallow still wedged there. In actuality, she had never made S'mores in her life, they had always been made for her, and usually magically--when her father wanted to do it the "real way," he'd be the one futzing with the idiot stick himself while she played Quidditch with her brothers. This rustic, Muggle-ish way of toasting marshmallows was frustrating at best. Whenever she tried to pull them off, the charcoal-like outer skin slid off, and the marshmallow left behind still felt uncooked!

With an annoyed grunt, she took them off of the stick and grabbed her wand, charming them toasted all the way through. Sheepishly, she grinned at Neville as she reached for a graham cracker and square of chocolate. "I got a bit frustrated," she admitted with a guilty shrug. "But come on! They're not as good when they're cold!"

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lonqbottom
2008-03-06 06:50 am UTC (link)

"We'll have to see if Fred and George and Charlie taught their sister well, because from what I know, she's much too sweet to ever bring the pain home," Neville declared back bravely, sticking his chin out in an encouraging way. Once she hit him, he made a big show of grabbing for his arm and clutching it, as though she had a sword in hand and had just stabbed him. To gain revenge for the blow, he took his own pillow and bopped her on the top of the head now. "Oh yeah, I went there."

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	ginnyweasley 2008-03-06 02:14 pm UTC (link)
	Ginny's eyes bugged out. Neville, with the cheap shot! "You sir, need to hang out with all of the kids I've hexed along the years," she laughed, whapping him on the leg. "Stroll over by Slytherin, they'll tell you Ginny's got the sweetness of a boiling pan of mandrake juice!" She hit him again on the other side, crying out, "Touche!" (Reply to this)(Parent)(Thread)

	lonqbottom 2008-03-07 03:56 am UTC (link)
	"I think they would actually tell me about Ginny, the sweetheart who has never hurt a fly. Sometimes I wonder how you survived with all those brothers," he teased back, tapping her shoulder three times in a row. "I will never give up! Duel to the death, winner takes all." (Reply to this)(Parent)(Thread)

	ginnyweasley 2008-03-07 04:20 am UTC (link)
	"Oh, right, that's exactly what Malfoy and Friends would say," she said with a laugh, nailing him in the side. "Right before they collected for the wizard poor and then solved for world peace and hugged a Muggle-born." She gasped. "Neville! So saucy! I love it. But I'm sorry, you are going down," she intoned, raising her pillow threateningly. (Reply to this)(Parent)(Thread)

lonqbottom
2008-03-07 05:26 am UTC (link)

"Well, if you remember, I believe I was once called 'twelve of Malfoy' by our dear friend Harry. Maybe if I ask them again they will agree with him, maybe even bump it up to thirteen, then maybe world peace and Muggle-born hugging will be on the horizon," Neville responded, not believing his own words but finding the idea much too amusing to stop.

"I am not. I will never go down without putting up a good fight, at least! Give it all you've got, Gin-Gin." He tapped her pillow with his own, as though it were a shield.

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ginnyweasley
2008-03-07 06:00 pm UTC (link)

"Make it twenty, and I'll raise you three Crabbes," Ginny offered, giggling as she had a mental image of Neville, giant tall and strong, crushing down a phalanx of Malfoys and his brainless, charmless underlings, knocking them all over with the ease of bowling pins.

Ginny shoved her pillow against his like a battering ram. "Ah, Nevvie, you have brought the reckoning down upon yourself!" she cried, trying not to surrender to another wave of laughter.

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