[ There's a lot of this that isn't entirely new to Ginny Weasley. Sneaking through castles are old hat, by now, and feasts are something of a comforting reminder of home. Even the imps suggest familiarity—something a bit like the house elves, or even the gnomes she was just in the middle of flinging over a hedge—and that more than anything makes her think that this could be a dream. It's not entirely outside the realm of possibility, right, that they... Merlin knows, ganged up on her after years of being tossed through the air? Maybe? So she's gone and cracked her head on a rock and Mum'll come running out in half a second—
Well. That's what she thought a few hours ago.
Wariness bred by a few years at war has made the revelry difficult to accept. She hasn't spotted anyone she recognises, no flash of robe or glasses or ginger or wandtip. But the young witch is friendly enough to anyone who approaches, smiles when offered food (she is a Weasley, after all), but tips it out when she thinks no one is watching or carefully Vanishes it off her plate with a twitch of her hand. (Thank Merlin she's still got her wand.)
... though, really, she'd scarf it all down if she knew for certain it was alright to. Merlin's beard, she's hungry. ]
ginny weasley | hp
[ There's a lot of this that isn't entirely new to Ginny Weasley. Sneaking through castles are old hat, by now, and feasts are something of a comforting reminder of home. Even the imps suggest familiarity—something a bit like the house elves, or even the gnomes she was just in the middle of flinging over a hedge—and that more than anything makes her think that this could be a dream. It's not entirely outside the realm of possibility, right, that they... Merlin knows, ganged up on her after years of being tossed through the air? Maybe? So she's gone and cracked her head on a rock and Mum'll come running out in half a second—
Well. That's what she thought a few hours ago.
Wariness bred by a few years at war has made the revelry difficult to accept. She hasn't spotted anyone she recognises, no flash of robe or glasses or ginger or wandtip. But the young witch is friendly enough to anyone who approaches, smiles when offered food (she is a Weasley, after all), but tips it out when she thinks no one is watching or carefully Vanishes it off her plate with a twitch of her hand. (Thank Merlin she's still got her wand.)
... though, really, she'd scarf it all down if she knew for certain it was alright to. Merlin's beard, she's hungry. ]