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jaebilityEven though it was the third week in July and the sun had no excuse for not shining, the weather was absolutely miserable. Cold rain pettled the roof and stirred up the ghoul who howled and moaned with unyielding vigor. The Weasley brood was forced to pull out the beloved/accursed Weasley sweaters and one of Ron's old ones was dutifully cleaned and given to Hermione.
Ginny offered to let Hermione wear the current Ginny Weasley Sweater (of Doom) and suggested that perhaps she herself could simply huddle under the blankets all day and thus miss out on her chores, but Mrs Weasley would have none of it. There had been a bit of blushing and a pair of red ears, but Hermione pulled on the sweater happily and thanked both Ron and his mother profusely.
And so, that Thursday late morning found the clan of Weasley wizards and witch (and visiting witch Hermione, of course) sitting cozy in the den with the fire blazing and Weasley sweaters out in full force.
Hermione chatted animatedly on the sofa with Ginny, discussing something about someone somewhere (Ron had a hard time hearing her over the loud gaffaws and chortles comgin from the twins).
"Then I told him that he was kindly invited to stick it-"
"Oh, and Ginny, I bought this book that explains exactly how to-"
Ron, sitting and sulking alone in the middle of the striped, saggy sofa, sighed. Right over there was Hermione. Right over there. And she had been just as close the past day and a half, but with Ginny, George, Fred, Mum the Meddler, and Dad about, he'd barely exchanged two words with her. He wanted to hear about her vacation with her parents (mostly, to discover if they'd gone over to Bulgaria), about her latest theories on Harry, about how she was getting better in Wizard's Chess and he'd better watch out lest she conquer him in a game, and all those lovely things that he had imagined they'd be talking about (he had also imagined that she had come to stay in the Weasley manor and then he was twenty-one years old with more money that he could ever count and so much charm that he was practically drowning in it) but so far all he had managed was a "Hi," "Good morning," "Er," and "'Night."
He thought that with the absense of the parental units, he have a better chance to speak with her. She was, after all, one of his two best friends, and she had come to visit him, not any of the other Weasleys. With Dad at work and Mum doing some grocery shopping, he thought that he would only have to contend with Ginny. And he could also tell her to bugger off - he was her older brother, after all - but then the twins had announced that they were staying for a bit longer before returning to their shop and Ron's brillant plan had gone to shambles.
And so they were all sitting around and Ron was most definately not having a conversation with her. She was on the other side of the room, in fact, and completely unaware of the torture she was causing.
He wasn't sure if it had been George or Fred, but someone had hauled out Dad's old Muggle record player and started it up. The blast of stratchy music caused Ginny to almost fall off of her chair, but once the twins had worked out how to adjust the volume, smiles began to appear.
"I'm almost afraid to ask," Hermione started with a grin, "But this has been enchanted, hasn't it?"
"Dad's had this thing for ages," Ron answered before someone else could steal Hermione's attention, "We used to listen to it during dinner." it had worked for a moment, Hermione's bright eyes turned towards him and her lips pursed pensively. For a wild second Ron thought that she'd come and sit by him to hear the whole story, but then Ginny stood up and distracted her by fiddling with the machine's knobs.
"Yeah, it was a family favorite... Until it decided to only play troll operas," George added dryly. "Seems to have returned to proper behavior, though."
*
It sounded like regular swing music, Hermione thought as the music played on, only with a bit of... A bit of something that Muggle music didn't have. Pondering over the possible reasons (charmed speakers? Hidden spells in the notes?), she had been oblivious to the hand in front of her until it had grown impatient and pulled her to her feet.
"Why, Hermione!" Exclaimed George, batting his eyelashes, "You'd like to dance with me? How thrilling!"
Hermione wanted to scowl and tell him that he shouldn't be so forward, but she dipped so suddenly that she barely had time to grab hold of his shoulders before she spilled down to the floor. "George!"
"Yes, darling," he said as he swept her upright, "We're all very impressed that you can tell us apart now."
Ginny grinned wickedly at Fred and grabbed his arm. "You, dear brother, need to practice your dancing. You practically killed poor Angelina at the Ball."
And that was how a dance party started at the Wealsey residence. Hermione, whose epxerience with fancy footwork was limited to the few dances she had attempted with Victor at the Yule Ball, clung frantically to George as he spun her around. When it seemed liked he was about to crash the both of them into the armrest, she gasped and opened her mouth to cry a warning. Faster than her was Ginny and with a flick of her wand, the chairs, sofa, and record player moved neatly to the sides of the room creating plenty of space for a proper dance floor.
(There was only one problem. At it was fuming with anger.)
With only two girls for the three men of the house (and one of those girls being a sister), it was only natural that someone had to sit out. As it were, Fred looked as if he were about to step in and claim Hermione as his own partner - as nice as Ginny was, she was Family and dancing with Family was not as good as dancing with Not Family.
"'Scuse me, mate, cutting in."
Hermione found herself twirled in a circle which ended in the arms of Fred. "'Lo, Fred." She said, a bit breathlessly, "Fancy meeting you here."
Fred laughed and Hermione was dipped for a second time. "Cheers, darling; always a pleasure. Though it's becoming pretty obvious that you're no ballerina."
Hermione trod upon her partner's feet again and grimaced. It was hard to keep up with the twins - both moved so quickly that she barely had a chance to keep herself upright, let alone consentrate on her feet's position. She would have groaned at her incompitence if her lungs had enough air in them. She was already feeling a bit light-headed, what with all the crazy dance moves that the twins were capable of, it was a wonder that she didn't pass out properly. It was futile to fight though, the twins were light an army, or a hurricane, or a pair of stampeding German Gorkspout Dragons. It was better to simply hold on and try to enjoy it.
"Tell me, Hermione, do you tango?" Fred dipped her again, his hand low on her back. She'd hadn't really been aware of how many of her body parts had been touching other people's (male) body parts until the warmth of his hand soaked through her heavy Weasley jumper. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him to move to a more decent area, thank you very much, when his other hand reached down and pulled her right leg upwards. Her knee bent and pressing against his thigh and her fingers clasped desperately around his arms, Hermione looked as if she had doing the forbidden dance her entire life.
*
Ron glared at anyone with red hair and began to grind his teeth. Pushed to the side like an old piece of furniture, he had been forgotten (or just ignored) while a bloody dance club was formed. Anger and dismay mingled with disastrous results and he felt his face flush red and then pale depending on which emotion got the better of him.
But then, the unthinkable occured. Fred did something even more daring and outragious than his usual highjinks - he touched Hermione in a way that could possibly be construied as somewhat sexual right there in front of Ron's face for the entire world to see. His left hand was in a very shocking place (the lower back) and his right hand in an even more horrifying area (under the knee).
Fury stamped out indignation and horror and Ron rose to her feet. He shot a murderous look to George whose eyes widened and face broke out into a grin. George would be getting off easy - it was Fred whose very existence was about to be snubbed out. Ron pulled off his Weasley sweater and rolled up his sleeves. Right, so first he'd knock out Fred, then smash the record player, then maybe even smack George around for being the one who got to hold Hermione first, and then maybe-
But when he made the two steps over to his brother, all he could think about was Hermione and how wrong it was that Fred got to hold her. So instead of giving his brother the beating he so deserved, Ron simply cut in.
*
Hermione had barely recovered from Fred's tango when a new pair of hands caught her. She expected George to have come back for round two, but when she looked up it was Ron's frowning face that greeted her. Saved, at last.
From the corner, the other Weasleys yanked off their sweaters and fanned their faces. "Water," croaked Ginny who had been busy showing George how to do some crazy Muggle dance. The twins nodded breathlessly and follwowed her to the kitchen.
It was just at the moment that the song changed. The tempo slowed and the notes dropped to a lower octave. Suddenly the air changed too - Ron's ire skittered away and a nervous voice in the back of his head reminded him that he was now dancing with Hermione. Alone. To a slow song. Instantly Ron tensed. He chanced another look at her, to see if she felt it too.
Hermione, exhausted, slumped in Ron's protective embrace. "Your brothers..." She said with a shake of her head. "I don't know Ginny survives in this place." She buried her face in Ron's shirt and drew in a shaky breath. "I swear, it was like being caught up in a tornado. This is much better," she added as they slowly moved across the floor.
*
Ron's heart thumped and he inhaled sharply. "Loads better," he agreed and then whinced. Not only had his voice manage to crack (the damn, devious thing), but he managed to sound pathetic and lovesick all at once. But it was hard to keep his secret in, what with her draped around him. Her arms had curled around his neck and her breath was hot against his chest - But he could be intrepreting it all wrong. Maybe she was just recovering from the twins, or maybe she danced with him because she had never considered that the could be more than friends, or (a terrible realization) it was out of pity.
((Clearly I have yet to manage the art of writing in one perspective.))
Ginny offered to let Hermione wear the current Ginny Weasley Sweater (of Doom) and suggested that perhaps she herself could simply huddle under the blankets all day and thus miss out on her chores, but Mrs Weasley would have none of it. There had been a bit of blushing and a pair of red ears, but Hermione pulled on the sweater happily and thanked both Ron and his mother profusely.
And so, that Thursday late morning found the clan of Weasley wizards and witch (and visiting witch Hermione, of course) sitting cozy in the den with the fire blazing and Weasley sweaters out in full force.
Hermione chatted animatedly on the sofa with Ginny, discussing something about someone somewhere (Ron had a hard time hearing her over the loud gaffaws and chortles comgin from the twins).
"Then I told him that he was kindly invited to stick it-"
"Oh, and Ginny, I bought this book that explains exactly how to-"
Ron, sitting and sulking alone in the middle of the striped, saggy sofa, sighed. Right over there was Hermione. Right over there. And she had been just as close the past day and a half, but with Ginny, George, Fred, Mum the Meddler, and Dad about, he'd barely exchanged two words with her. He wanted to hear about her vacation with her parents (mostly, to discover if they'd gone over to Bulgaria), about her latest theories on Harry, about how she was getting better in Wizard's Chess and he'd better watch out lest she conquer him in a game, and all those lovely things that he had imagined they'd be talking about (he had also imagined that she had come to stay in the Weasley manor and then he was twenty-one years old with more money that he could ever count and so much charm that he was practically drowning in it) but so far all he had managed was a "Hi," "Good morning," "Er," and "'Night."
He thought that with the absense of the parental units, he have a better chance to speak with her. She was, after all, one of his two best friends, and she had come to visit him, not any of the other Weasleys. With Dad at work and Mum doing some grocery shopping, he thought that he would only have to contend with Ginny. And he could also tell her to bugger off - he was her older brother, after all - but then the twins had announced that they were staying for a bit longer before returning to their shop and Ron's brillant plan had gone to shambles.
And so they were all sitting around and Ron was most definately not having a conversation with her. She was on the other side of the room, in fact, and completely unaware of the torture she was causing.
He wasn't sure if it had been George or Fred, but someone had hauled out Dad's old Muggle record player and started it up. The blast of stratchy music caused Ginny to almost fall off of her chair, but once the twins had worked out how to adjust the volume, smiles began to appear.
"I'm almost afraid to ask," Hermione started with a grin, "But this has been enchanted, hasn't it?"
"Dad's had this thing for ages," Ron answered before someone else could steal Hermione's attention, "We used to listen to it during dinner." it had worked for a moment, Hermione's bright eyes turned towards him and her lips pursed pensively. For a wild second Ron thought that she'd come and sit by him to hear the whole story, but then Ginny stood up and distracted her by fiddling with the machine's knobs.
"Yeah, it was a family favorite... Until it decided to only play troll operas," George added dryly. "Seems to have returned to proper behavior, though."
*
It sounded like regular swing music, Hermione thought as the music played on, only with a bit of... A bit of something that Muggle music didn't have. Pondering over the possible reasons (charmed speakers? Hidden spells in the notes?), she had been oblivious to the hand in front of her until it had grown impatient and pulled her to her feet.
"Why, Hermione!" Exclaimed George, batting his eyelashes, "You'd like to dance with me? How thrilling!"
Hermione wanted to scowl and tell him that he shouldn't be so forward, but she dipped so suddenly that she barely had time to grab hold of his shoulders before she spilled down to the floor. "George!"
"Yes, darling," he said as he swept her upright, "We're all very impressed that you can tell us apart now."
Ginny grinned wickedly at Fred and grabbed his arm. "You, dear brother, need to practice your dancing. You practically killed poor Angelina at the Ball."
And that was how a dance party started at the Wealsey residence. Hermione, whose epxerience with fancy footwork was limited to the few dances she had attempted with Victor at the Yule Ball, clung frantically to George as he spun her around. When it seemed liked he was about to crash the both of them into the armrest, she gasped and opened her mouth to cry a warning. Faster than her was Ginny and with a flick of her wand, the chairs, sofa, and record player moved neatly to the sides of the room creating plenty of space for a proper dance floor.
(There was only one problem. At it was fuming with anger.)
With only two girls for the three men of the house (and one of those girls being a sister), it was only natural that someone had to sit out. As it were, Fred looked as if he were about to step in and claim Hermione as his own partner - as nice as Ginny was, she was Family and dancing with Family was not as good as dancing with Not Family.
"'Scuse me, mate, cutting in."
Hermione found herself twirled in a circle which ended in the arms of Fred. "'Lo, Fred." She said, a bit breathlessly, "Fancy meeting you here."
Fred laughed and Hermione was dipped for a second time. "Cheers, darling; always a pleasure. Though it's becoming pretty obvious that you're no ballerina."
Hermione trod upon her partner's feet again and grimaced. It was hard to keep up with the twins - both moved so quickly that she barely had a chance to keep herself upright, let alone consentrate on her feet's position. She would have groaned at her incompitence if her lungs had enough air in them. She was already feeling a bit light-headed, what with all the crazy dance moves that the twins were capable of, it was a wonder that she didn't pass out properly. It was futile to fight though, the twins were light an army, or a hurricane, or a pair of stampeding German Gorkspout Dragons. It was better to simply hold on and try to enjoy it.
"Tell me, Hermione, do you tango?" Fred dipped her again, his hand low on her back. She'd hadn't really been aware of how many of her body parts had been touching other people's (male) body parts until the warmth of his hand soaked through her heavy Weasley jumper. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him to move to a more decent area, thank you very much, when his other hand reached down and pulled her right leg upwards. Her knee bent and pressing against his thigh and her fingers clasped desperately around his arms, Hermione looked as if she had doing the forbidden dance her entire life.
*
Ron glared at anyone with red hair and began to grind his teeth. Pushed to the side like an old piece of furniture, he had been forgotten (or just ignored) while a bloody dance club was formed. Anger and dismay mingled with disastrous results and he felt his face flush red and then pale depending on which emotion got the better of him.
But then, the unthinkable occured. Fred did something even more daring and outragious than his usual highjinks - he touched Hermione in a way that could possibly be construied as somewhat sexual right there in front of Ron's face for the entire world to see. His left hand was in a very shocking place (the lower back) and his right hand in an even more horrifying area (under the knee).
Fury stamped out indignation and horror and Ron rose to her feet. He shot a murderous look to George whose eyes widened and face broke out into a grin. George would be getting off easy - it was Fred whose very existence was about to be snubbed out. Ron pulled off his Weasley sweater and rolled up his sleeves. Right, so first he'd knock out Fred, then smash the record player, then maybe even smack George around for being the one who got to hold Hermione first, and then maybe-
But when he made the two steps over to his brother, all he could think about was Hermione and how wrong it was that Fred got to hold her. So instead of giving his brother the beating he so deserved, Ron simply cut in.
*
Hermione had barely recovered from Fred's tango when a new pair of hands caught her. She expected George to have come back for round two, but when she looked up it was Ron's frowning face that greeted her. Saved, at last.
From the corner, the other Weasleys yanked off their sweaters and fanned their faces. "Water," croaked Ginny who had been busy showing George how to do some crazy Muggle dance. The twins nodded breathlessly and follwowed her to the kitchen.
It was just at the moment that the song changed. The tempo slowed and the notes dropped to a lower octave. Suddenly the air changed too - Ron's ire skittered away and a nervous voice in the back of his head reminded him that he was now dancing with Hermione. Alone. To a slow song. Instantly Ron tensed. He chanced another look at her, to see if she felt it too.
Hermione, exhausted, slumped in Ron's protective embrace. "Your brothers..." She said with a shake of her head. "I don't know Ginny survives in this place." She buried her face in Ron's shirt and drew in a shaky breath. "I swear, it was like being caught up in a tornado. This is much better," she added as they slowly moved across the floor.
*
Ron's heart thumped and he inhaled sharply. "Loads better," he agreed and then whinced. Not only had his voice manage to crack (the damn, devious thing), but he managed to sound pathetic and lovesick all at once. But it was hard to keep his secret in, what with her draped around him. Her arms had curled around his neck and her breath was hot against his chest - But he could be intrepreting it all wrong. Maybe she was just recovering from the twins, or maybe she danced with him because she had never considered that the could be more than friends, or (a terrible realization) it was out of pity.
((Clearly I have yet to manage the art of writing in one perspective.))
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Date: 2005-12-15 07:54 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-12-16 02:17 am (UTC)