"I am. You're my Quidditch superstar. I have posters of you plastering my bedroom and my life is ruined because I forgot to bring my camera on today's tail," she grinned. "It's alright, though, I'll have recovered the camera in time for your three o' clock hair appointment."
She shrugged one shoulder and glanced between the book and Oliver, suppressing a laugh. "Let's just put it this way, I fear greatly for your nephew's nutrition. You do know that buttered toast and chocolate pudding aren't meant for three meals a day, yeah?" she teased.
Slowly, slowly, as she leaned back against the stacks, Ginny tried to stealthily to slide her own selection onto the shelf. She'd come back for it later. "You caught me. I'm actually eight months pregnant. But at least I carry the weight well!" She patted her flattened stomach with the hand not trying to hide the book.