RP: Ginny and Open! Who: Ginny Weasley and Hermione When: August 22nd Where: The Great Hall, Hogwarts Rating: Low Summary: Ginny's in trouble and in a mood, and oh. There's cleaning. Loads and loads of boring Muggle style cleaning!
Stealing the wand had been a daring trick, one that Ginny knew would be met with severe disapproval if she was caught. When she was caught. There were more Death Eaters than she could shake a wand at (though she very much wanted to.) The stolen wand had been discovered and taken from her person, along with her journal. The trade? A scrub brush and a bucket. Soap. Muggle cleaning. As all things went, it was a light punishment, but she hadn't had time to cast a curse or a hex before she'd been caught. She might have, had the Death Eater not appeared at her shoulder and taken the wand away. She'd expected far worse than she'd gotten, though right now the scent of the harsh soap was making her eyes water and her nose sting.
With each swipe of the brush on the stones, her mind drifted more and more towards the situation she and the rest of Wizarding England was in. Arranged marriages. The Order on the run. Their savior dead. She fought the welling of tears in her eyes. She was tired, that was it. She'd been scrubbing for hours.
Perhaps it wasn't the soap after all, making her eyes hurt. A few scattered tears dropped onto the ground and she sniffled, scrubbing them up hard. The damnable part was that she was a redhead and being such it as obvious when she was upset. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes red, and she sniffled again. This wasn't some fit of pique she might have had as a child, like when she'd broken something or when she'd been caught stealing sweets from the kitchen. No. The whole world had collapsed inward and narrowed into this.
Pausing, she closed her eyes and tried to remember the good that had happened in the hall. Every school year began with the Sorting and a speech by Dumbledore, all except for the last. But still, there was real warmth still left in the stones. A warmth that couldn't be leeched away by anything, not even him. No, this hall was full of memories that couldn't be washed away, no matter how much soap she was told to use. A small smile fell onto her lips. Things would be made right again. They had to get right again. The world couldn't continue on like this.