The Cerebral Coordination of Ginny Weasley

Rating: T

Author: ValorOrgulloso

Chapter I: In Which I Want You Back In Bunny Knickers

"Ubabababa! All I want! Ubabababa! All I need! Ubabababa! All I want! Ubabababa! ALL I NEEEED!" I shrieked loudly, shrilly, and off-key at the top of my lungs. I was home alone, for once. And, as such, I felt a great urge to celebrate that by playing (or blasting) a CD on my dad's boom-box and singing along to the Jackson Five in nothing but an old t-shirt, large sunglasses, and my bunny knickers. Oh, and my pink fuzzy socks that I could slide around on the wood floors, so when the music got to its intense parts, I could slip down the length of my kitchen.

Anyways, I was like this because Ron was at Diagon Alley with Harry and Hermione, the twins were 'supervising' them on mum's orders (I have no idea what my mother was on when she had that bright idea), Bill was in Egypt, Charlie was in Romania, Percy was just a prat and fup and left us so I didn't exactly know where he was, and mum and dad went off for a little rendezvous for the day a.k.a. 'appliance shopping.' Dad wanted to get a dishwasher. Why? I really have no bloody clue. We had magic. We had used magic for the past gazillion years. We used magic to wash dishes. Why did we need a dishwasher?

But, I guess dad's obsession with Muggle items like dishwashers has gotten me where I am today. Dad bought the CDs and radio when he wanted to learn about Muggle music, so I was listening to those CDs on that radio.

My family was supposed to be gone at least until four, so I had another hour of dancing in my underwear left before I had to stop acting like a complete and total idiot.

I changed the CD. As great as the Jackson Five was, and as cute as Michael Jackson was when he was little and before he became white, sometimes I just needed a little diversity.

And so went on my insane dancing. It must have been through at least six songs on the album, while I was screaming, "Only while I'm dancing can I feel this free… at night I lock the doors so no one else can see!" when I was doing these little twirls. Suddenly, while I was spinning I saw someone standing in the kitchen's entrance. I stopped my twirls immediately, mortified. And guess who it was? The last person I wanted to hear me belting out Madonna in my bunny knickers and my obnoxiously bright socks. It was none other than Harry-bloody-amazing-and-gorgeous-Potter. He had a very amused smile on his face, obviously trying his hardest not to let a bubble of laughter erupt as I blushed bright red. I mean, how on earth did one get out of this situation? No one was supposed to be home for another thirty minutes! Well, I guess I should have felt thankful that I wasn't singing (shrieking) along to I'll Make Love to You, as great as that song was. I had been listening to a few minutes back, when Harry walked in. But I wasn't feeling very thankful at the moment. I was sudoriferous and prostrated. I never listed words that big or old when I was in my right mind.

I was holding a cucumber in my hand limply, as I had beens using it as my microphone, and, of course, I was in a nasty, dingy shirt, my bunny knickers, and large, orange sunglasses that I found (carefully) in Fred's and George's room. I had put on elaborate amounts of bright makeup: neon pink lipstick, blue eye shadow, and an enormous amount of my mother's blush.

It was in that moment that I wondered what could possibly incline me to dress up like a boob. But then I remembered: my celebration. That everyone was gone. But that was no more. Harry was there, laughing at me. How cruel. Okay, I would probably have done the same thing if I was in his position, but still. Harry was supposed to be like this inconceivably nifty and totally hot guy.

"Ginny," Harry choked out between his random bursts of snickers.

I glared. "Oh, shut up," was the most I could muster in my mortification. Harry tried to control his snorts but was failing, covering his mouth and leaning against the wall next to the door. I mean sweet Merlin it wasn't that funny!

Finally, after he controlled his sounds of scorn, he removed his hand from his mouth and said, "You know, Hermione and Ron are coming soon." For a split second I thought he was making fun of me, telling me that more people were going to come see me in my current state, but then I realized it was a warning. It meant "Get the fuck out of here, if you don't want Hermione and that idiot you call a brother to see you in your clown makeup and rather anomalous clothing."

I nodded, avoiding his eyes as I slowly realized my face was as red as a tomato. At the same time though, I wasn't sure you could tell through my vast expanse of goop and flushed complexion from the exertion of dancing and singing. I hurriedly lay down the cucumber on the counter, turned off the radio, and then rushed towards the stairs, making sure to avoid Harry's eyes. I was on the third step when Harry called, "And Ginny?" I turned to him. "Nice knickers."

That was when I nearly sprinted to the top of the stairs and into my room, thoroughly humiliated.

Harry Potter was the hottest thing that has ever set foot in my house. I guess that wasn't saying much, because the only people that have ever been in my house are my brothers; my brothers' friends who were all ugly in my eyes because for anyone to be friends with my brothers were idiots and obviously mentally unstable, except Harry; random old people that my parents are friends with, and finally my friends. But they're girls – most of them at least. And Hermione is a girl, too. So they don't really count since most things I count as hot are guys. And occasionally soup.

Only something like this would happen to me. Why couldn't it have been someone else who walked through those doors? Why Harry? I mean, if it were the twins or Ron, I would have been embarrassed as well, and they would have teased me for months. But they're related to me, and they already knew I was a completely messed up fourteen year old girl. Harry didn't (hopefully) know that. But now he'd think that I was messed up, which I totally was, but I didn't want him to know it. My cover as a normal (okay, semi-normal) girl was completely blown.

I sighed and threw myself face down on my bed after closing and locking the door… no repeat of the Harry incident, if you please. I groaned into my pillow. I really was stupid most of the time.

Well, at least Hogwarts started in four days, and by that time I didn't have to eat every meal with Harry. Which I was eternally (un)grateful for. (Now I couldn't stare longingly at his pretty face. As often. Which I was rather depressed about.) I wished I had a carton of ice cream. Then I could stuff my face and feel worse about myself, while at the same time consuming a scrumptious frozen treat.

Eventually I decided to stop moping about, and I got up. I looked down at where I was laying to see a collaboration of blue, red, and pink marks. That was enough proof for me to show how much I had spruced up before dancing in my almost-nudey pants.


After I had taken a shower, I remained hidden in my room away from everyone (Harry) who returned until my mother called me down for dinner. I made sure I had on a cute outfit (to prove that yes, I could wear pants to Harry) before I went down.

Dinner was uncomfortable. I walked into the kitchen to see salads and plates set for ten. There were only four seats left (as Harry, Ron, and Hermione had yet to arrive). I picked the one that one of the empty seats wasn't next to. I couldn't be near Harry if he chose to sit next to me. It was too humiliating. But, all my efforts were in vain. Harry was the last to sit down and ended up diagonal from me, which was much too close in my opinion, as the table was cramped. I was aware of his presence, but I did my best not to look at him. Just act natural, I told myself repeatedly. But when I thought that, all I could think of was a cow, the twins, and their cow jokes. It was very distracting, and I couldn't help but stare at Harry from the corner of my eye.

He seemed to be acting normal. He wasn't trying to catch my eye, and he hadn't mentioned anything about the earlier kitchen escapade of mine. He obviously hadn't told any one of my brothers, or else I would have been well aware of it by now.

I let out small sigh of relief. At least that was until I accidentally wanted to look at Harry's gorgeous face while he was eating a cucumber slice. He caught my eye, and his lip twitched as he looked from the cucumber, then back to me.

It took all my efforts not to blush brighter than a red hot chili pepper as I glared hatefully at him. I needed a microphone, okay? And the cucumber just happened to be the nearest microphonesque object. It was either that or the banana, and, quite frankly, I had a dirty mind. I couldn't sing into a banana without connecting sexual innuendos to it.

In fact, I bet I was probably a bigger pervert than all of my brothers. Okay, maybe not Fred and George, but pretty close. I blamed it on my age. I was fourteen and in the middle of puberty. Of course my mind was going to be on boys and sex! Well, maybe not of course because I was sure many girls in my year weren't thinking of things like that. But they were prunes and were going to grow old with many cats. They'd be virgins their entire lives or marry their cousin. Or maybe they were just normal.

Oh, whatever, fact was that I used a cucumber to sing into and now me, my family, Hermione, and my crush were eating it. And said crush knew I sang into said cucumber.

It was at this point my mother completely mortified me by asking, "Ginny, dear, do you know where my blush went? I was looking for it when I got home from appliance shopping. Did you take it?" I could feel Harry giving me an amused, knowing smirk as I thought of an answer. I felt like smacking him. Or myself. I couldn't decide who I wanted to hit more; him for being a prat or me for being a loony.

I kept my face blank as I said, "No, mum, I haven't seen it." I knew Harry was now full out smiling, but he hid it well by pretending to take a sip from his glass.

Mum let out a disappointed sigh. "Oh, I was hoping you would. That was my last case." She frowned.

I let out my all-winning-innocent-encouraging smile. "I'm sure it'll turn up." Harry let out a snort, but covered it up by pretending to choke on his water. I wished it were so. He deserved to choke for putting me through humiliating humility – just as long as he choked and lived. Because it would be quite tragic if the hottest guy to ever walk in my house died choking on water at my expense. I could just imagine the funeral. "Here lies Harry Potter, savior of the Wizarding World, killed not at the hands of Voldemort, but Ginny Weasley, her bunny knickers, and her whore attire." Lovely, really.

"Thank you, dear."

I kept the smile on my face as I trained my gaze on Harry, but my eyes gave me away. I was pretty sure Harry realized I was kind of giving him the "shut up or else you will die slowly from castration" look because he sobered up real quick, looking real remorseful for his actions. I didn't believe the act, not for one second, but I let it slide because at least he made the effort to appease me.

"Ginny, could you pass me the salt?" Ron asked, forcing me to break my warning stare from Harry's face. I passed him the salt, and the rest of dinner went by smoothly for the most part.

So now I was in my bed, ready to go to sleep, and I had yet to talk to Harry since the incident. Really, I hadn't talked to Harry much since… well, ever, but occasionally we had short little chats. For example, just the other day I talked to him. It went sort of like this:

Harry: It's raining.

Me: Yup.

Okay, so maybe we didn't have the most insightful conversations, but we commuted… sort of. Well, not really at all, but I was planning on changing that this year. Or, I was planning on changing that this year until I decided to make a total ass out of myself and dance around in my undies. In my kitchen. Where anyone could just walk in. At any time. And someone did. God, I had issues. But I didn't blush around him anymore! Or stick my arm in butter dishes! Well, I did blush around him when I did stupid things like act like a lunatic then get caught in the act. But not about other things! I was so proud of myself.

So, I decided the up and coming year my goal was to branch out and be myself (okay, I didn't think people could really handle me, so maybe I'd only be a little myself) and make Harry think I wasn't a complete and total retard. Now that I had a goal set all I had to do is follow through on it, and I was set.

*Repost - reedited 2/1/09