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A Feud to Maim by remedios
The Root by remedios
Disclaimer: JKR is the legal master of the Harry Potter universe. I am just having a little fun.
A/N: Well, the reviews that I got from my last story, Detention Full of Disdain, inspired me to write this story which will have eventual romance. Oh, and for anyone who really cares, I decided that it would be okay for underage wizards to use magic, as long as it’s for work purposes (as in a job). I hate to say this, but I probably won’t update if I don’t get a lot of reviews. What’s the point of continuing if no one is enjoying it, you know? Hope you like it! ^^
A Feud to Maim
For Ginny Weasley, the idea of helping out at her brothers famous joke shop “Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes” was one full of the promise of a good time, especially since she was no longer living at home, which meant no chores. Of course, she had imagined that she would be downstairs helping her brothers make taffies that gave the eater an extra arm. Her dreams died when her brother, George, handed her the keys to the register with a sarcastic “have fun” and a playful wink.
She absently chewed on the tip of a sugar quill on another slow weekday, staring up at the ceiling. She hoped that someone would enter the shop, at least give her something to do instead of listening enviously to the sounds of explosions and pops from the basement.
On the upside, I’m getting paid to do nothing.
She sighed again, glancing at the newspaper for the fifth time that day. All it did was depress her even more. There was an unavoidable foreboding stench in the wizarding community of Voldemort, one that would surely kill off loved ones and wound hundreds more.
No. Now is not the time to think about that.
Thankfully, a whoop of laughter filled the shop, which was the sound indicating a customer opening or closing the door. She perked up at the sight of the person who just came in.
Colin looked up, ruffling the bits of dust out of his hair from the windy day with a smile on his face. “Hey, Ginny.”
She pouted, “You have no idea how bored I am.”
He walked toward the counter, only to lean on it, “Well, that’s why I’m here. To give your day a little bit of sunshine.” He laid down a copy of Witch Weekly, which Ginny had requested for him to bring.
“You should be.”
She rolled her eyes playfully, “Right.”
“Has the new shipment of java chews come in?” he asked anxiously, shifting his weight on the hard surface so that he was supported on one elbow.
Ginny let out a few giggles, “In a few days, Colin! Have you become attached to those java chews?”
“Yes!” he yelled out stubbornly, “I come in, every day, and buy a java chew. How do you think it makes me feel when there are not java chews? My life is empty.”
“Well,” she muttered expertly, “I’m sure that you can fill the void with a chocolate frog.” She grabbed one off the shelf and handed it to him.
He held his hand up in protest, looking at her with shock, “And defy my java chews?!”
“Don’t be so monogamous. There are other fish in the sea.” She shoved the candy into his hand. He gave her a long glare, then opened it and bit off the frog’s head savagely. However, this did not stop it from wiggling in desperation.
“I hate you.”
“Ah yes, but it’s friendly hate, isn’t it?” she added with a snide smirk. He grumbled and walked away to look at other candy.
She grinned again, once again annoying the hell out of someone. It was something she was fairly good at. However, she was now bored again. She reached for the copy of Witch Weekly, reading the contents as Colin browsed for maybe even a faint trace of java chews.
“Actually,” Colin said mid-browsing, “I came here to give you a proposition.”
Ginny peered at him over her magazine, “Proposition?”
“Remember when you told me you would do anything for my job as a waiter?”
Her eyes lit up. “Yes!”
“Well, Denise quit so we have an opening. I put in a good word for you and my boss is willing to interview.”
Ginny jumped and screamed. “Are you serious?!”
Colin smirked this time, “Yep!”
She couldn’t control herself any longer, so she glomped her friend in total pure happiness.
It was obvious that Ginny loved her job the second she left her interview with Colin’s boss with a wide manic grin on her face. Of course, Fred and George were not happy, and gave out panic yelps of, “She’s deserting us!” until Ginny promised them that she was still going to make them dinner, in which they calmed down. She felt exhilarated to be out of that joke shop that sometimes felt like a prison, a place where she could be useful and be constantly doing something instead of counting the cracks in the ceiling. Waiting people in the fabulous café, “The Swingline Jazz club”, where the rich and famous dine, seemed like a dream to her.
Little did she know that her dream was going to turn into a nightmare.
It was about her third week on a Friday where the restaurant got really busy and hectic. She was waiting the far left corner as she usually was, displaying a smile to each and every one of her customers. In fact, on this fatal night, she was in a jovial mood, until she felt a slight pinch on her bottom.
She whipped around, eyes shooting fire, to the perpetrator. She expected a perverted middle-aged man who would then most likely try to shove knuts down her bra.
She was so wrong.
Her jaw dropped open involuntarily, which she quickly closed. Trying to maintain a business-y exterior and ignoring the voices of Shove the pencil and pad up his arse, see how he likes it! Shove it!, she calmly asked, “Do you want something, sir?”
At this, he burst out laughing. She felt a momentary twitch on the nerve in her forehead, which she furiously fought to control. He finally was able to contain himself, because he said in that oh-so-arrogant way, “Trying to afford the food, Weasley?” Everyone sitting with him, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Millicent Bulstrode, Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson all reacted to his little joke. Crabbe, Goyle and Bulstrode guffawed. Parkinson gave out a high-pitched giggle. Zabini laughed icily.
She smiled sweetly, “Just trying to make an honest living.” The words slid out of her mouth with icky sugary goodness.
“Wait.. you’re not our waitress, are you?! She might infect us!” screeched Pansy with a shocked and disgusted expression.
She breathed deeply, “I can get someone else to wait on you.”
Pansy was about to agree, when Malfoy piped up, “No, no.. that’s alright. Just wear gloves.” The rest of the table rose in tremendous laughter, all making Ginny want to burst into flames. She could only repeat to herself, Maintain control, get money. Maintain control, get money. Maintain control, get money...
After they finished, she managed to say, “Would you like anything to drink?”
They all chimed for butterbeers, which she wrote hastily down on her pad before hurrying off. Before she left she heard Malfoy say loudly, “I’m going to the loo to clean my hands. Don’t want to eat with these things, especially after touching a Weasley‘s arse. I might get an STD.” Another round of laughter was heard from his comrades.
She ran to Colin, pulling him away in the middle of him taking an order. “Hey!” he shouted.
“Colin, I need you to take over table 5 for me.”
He gave her an odd look, “Why?”
She pinched his cheeks and forced his head in the direction of the table, “That’s why.”
He paled. “I don’t know, Ginny.”
“Colin,” she said, grabbing him by the shoulders, “Malfoy. Malfoy pinched my butt.”
He shrieked, “WHAT?!”
She shook him, “You heard what I said! He pinched my butt! Then he realized it was me, and now he’s washing his hands to get rid of the ‘STDs’..”
Colin’s face screwed up, holding back which was undoubtedly laughter, but finally let it go, practically leaning over with joy.
“It’s not funny!” she shrieked.
“Malfoy..” he breathed, “groped you? Oh god, wait till I tell Ron..”
She pinched his cheeks again, “You are not going to tell Ron! Agreed?” she moved his head up and down as if he actually was consenting to her statement, and let him go. “Fine. I can see you’re too chicken to trade with me.”
Colin rubbed his cheeks, now sore with indented nail marks. He called out after her with a tint of sarcasm, “Have fun!”
She spun around and snarled at him, which of course he responded with the classic Creevey grin. She rolled her eyes and headed to the kitchens.
When she finally did arrive with the food at the Slytherin table, she was only jeered at and made to go back and make the cooks remake their food because she had infected their food by touching the plates. Malfoy had rudely remarked, “We asked you to wear gloves, you know. At least there will be a layer of cloth from our food being touched by your Weasley filth.” She only grimaced to this, trying her hardest to maintain control. She had lost almost fourteen galleons of her paycheck because of the sent back food, since she had to pay for it. Why did Bulstrode have to order lobster?
She finally gave them their food, wearing satin gloves that a previous customer had left in the coat room. She was, in fact, about to place the last plate of food down, which was for Pansy, who flipped it just as it settled on the table, causing it to land face-down. Pansy giggled mischievously, the higher than normal sounds piercing Ginny’s ears and said. “Oop! You better go get me another.”
Ginny growled. Make that sixteen galleons going off her paycheck.
However, she held her ground and took deep breaths. She went to the kitchens to grab a broom and mop and began to clean it up, bending down below the table. “That’s right, Weasley, bow to your superiors,” a familiar voice drawled. She glanced up to only find herself face-to-face with Malfoy. She managed to hold back a scoff, and began to clean again.
Her cleaning was only interrupted by a splash of water hitting her body. She gasped, looking up, only to find the bucket of water kicked to the side, soapy water now leaking out of it. The Slytherins were now dying with glee, practically rolling around in their seats. Crabbe was stuffing his face when this happened, so a bunch of food (which was spaghetti) landed in her face. This only caused them to laugh harder.
She swiped the pre-chewed noodles off her face, feeling rage began to build in her stomach. She cleaned up the rest of the food despite the cruel laughter surrounding her, fingernails digging into the wood of the mop that it was beginning to splinter, and stood up defiantly, not letting a single emotion cross her face.
And that was pretty impressive, considering she felt like killing something.
She managed to avoid the table for the rest of the night, except when she had to refill drinks. Malfoy made her send back about three round of butterbeers, each individual beverage worth five sickles, only adding up to 150 sickles more she would have to pay the restaurant because she forgot to put on her gloves.
She gave them their check, ignoring the comment Malfoy made on ‘actually being able to afford this’ and left without hesitation.
It was only until later that she cleaned up the table, to find a single knut on the table with a note attached, saying “Fit for a Weasel.”
This set off a single spark, which resulted in her tracking down the Slytherins at the doorway and throwing it towards them, smacking the back of Malfoy’s head. He gave out a yelp, and turned around to see a fiery Weasley glowering at him.
“I don’t want you blood money,” she snarled.
“But Weasley,” he smirked, “don’t you need to save up for a valentine for Potter? Remember, Valentine’s Day is eight months away..”
Finally, the guffaws, the high-pitched giggles and the icy laughter made her snap, making her unleash the unbelievable fury that she always prided herself in actually controlling, unlike her brother Ron.
She put a Bat Bogey hex on Malfoy.
With that, she declared loudly, “I quit!” and stomped out of the restaurant.
Little did she know that she was followed by applause.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.