Ok, disclaimer time! I don't own any of
these characters, they are all the property of J.K. Rowling, so no offence
intended in their use.
This is my first fanfic, folks, so please
read and review. Be nice! :-)
This story is just a little bit of
meaningless fun. It's the holidays after the fourth year, and Ron is a bit distracted
by a realisation he has had. He finds someone to talk to about it, but that
person may not really be the best person for the job…
George opened the door to Ron's room and
peered inside. "What on earth was that noise?" he asked. Ron looked slightly
embarrassed, but quickly hid it.
"Umm,
must have been the ghoul, I guess," he said guiltily.
George's eyes
narrowed as he took in the scene in Ron's bedroom. "Nah, sounded more to me
like a fourth year Transfiguration textbook being thrown at the wall."
"No
it wasn't."
"There's
a hole in the plaster, right there. Look."
"No,
that was there before, I, um, had a poster covering it."
George took
another look around. He hadn't quite been able to place what it was, but
something had been missing from Ron's room since they got back for the
holidays. Now he realised what it was. "Hey," he said, "why'd you take down
your posters of Victor Krum?"
"Didn't want them
anymore. Felt it was time for a change. Yeah, a big change. Get some more
Cannons posters."
"Well that's not
really much of a change, Ron." George was right. Almost every inch of
wall in Ron's bedroom was covered by what seemed to be a seething mass of
orange and black, the colours of the Chudly Cannons, his favourite Quidditch
team.
"Well I thought I
could use some more," Ron said. "You got a problem with that?"
"Heavens no!" said
George, "I'm just a little surprised, that's all. You've been acting oddly
recently. Well, odd for you, anyway."
Ron rolled his
eyes. "Go away, George."
George ignored him
and stepped into the room. "Something bothering you, Ron?"
"No. Nothing.
Nothing at all. Absolutely nothing. Not a thing. Zip." Ron said all of this
quite quickly.
"OK," said George,
"wrong question. Ron, tell me what's bothering you."
Well, thought Ron,
it can't hurt to tell someone. Hold on, what am I saying? This is George
for crying out loud!
George could see
Ron wrestling with this concept, and it brought a smile to his face. "Come on
Ron, you can trust me!" he said with obvious enthusiasm.
Ron laughed out
loud at this, but obviously decided there was a reasonable amount of truth in
it, because he started talking.
"George," he
started, before trailing off.
"Yes, that's my
name. Don't wear it out, please, or I'll have to use Fred's and it's confusing
enough already."
"Would you stop
interrupting me?"
"No."
Oh well, thought
Ron. I tried. He continued. "George, you know about…" he trailed off again. He
began to gesture as though trying to find the right word.
"I know about what?"
said George, tilting his head slightly, trying to interpret his brother's hand
movements. "Fish? Radio waves? The Wronski Feint?"
Ron found the word
he was looking for, and managed to get it out. "Girls? You know about girls,
don't you?"
George's face lit
up. He could tell this was going to be more fun than he had originally thought.
He sat down in the wooden chair next to Ron's desk, leaned back and steepled
his fingers. "Well Ron," he said in his best "wise old professor Dumbledore"
voice, "you have come to the right place. I have been dispensing such wisdom to
the less fortunate, such as you, for as long as I can remember."
"Oh come off it!"
Ron exclaimed. "Fred's the one with the girlfriend, not you!"
"Do not mock what
you do not understand, young Weasley."
"I don't know why
I bothered even trying to talk to you."
"Come on Ron,"
George said, dropping the act, "do you want my help or not? You need all the
help you can get, if you ask me."
"Ha ha. You're an
absolute riot, George."
George sighed
contentedly. "I know, Ron. You don't have to tell me these things, though I am
flattered that you noticed, of course." George noticed Ron's scowl. "But back
to business. Now, sit back and listen to my wisdom. Come on, when I tell you to
sit, do it!" He nodded in satisfaction as Ron sat down on his bed, scowl still
firmly in place. "Women, Ron, are a very mysterious bunch. They have confused
and mystified males since time began. Even the very first single celled
organisms would shake their heads in disbelief when…"
"Look," Ron
interrupted, "how is this helping me?"
"Patience, Ron,"
George replied sagely. "You must learn patience. You will only understand when
you cast your petty worries aside."
"Oh please."
"Fine, we'll skip
this history lesson, but you don't know what you're missing. We'll move
straight on to the important bits. Now, who is the woman who has stolen little
Ron's heart?"
"Hey! We never
said anything about naming names!" Ron said in a panicky voice, the scowl
disappearing.
"Well how am I
supposed to help you if I don't know who you're chasing. Come on, Ron, just
tell me!"
"You know, on
second thought, forget about it!" Ron was still panicking. "You obviously
aren't the right sort of person to talk to about this anyway." He jumped up and
dragged George out of the chair and started pushing him towards the door.
"Well I admit I am
surprised you chose to talk to me. Flattered, yes. Proud, of course! But why
not your friends? Why not Harry? Or Hermione? I mean, she's got a chick's
perspective on it, that can help a lot!"
But at the mention
of her name, Ron's face took on an even more fearful and panicked expression.
George saw this and suddenly made the mental leap. He dragged himself out of
Ron's grasp; his face bearing a grin that threatened to split it in half.
"Merlin's beard!
It's her, isn't it? It's Hermione!"
Ron's expression
quickly changed to one of total horror, but to his credit, he covered it up
fairly well. "No," he said in a slightly strangled voice, "what makes you think
that?"
"Might have had something
to do with your face going a brighter colour than your hair when I said her
name," George said in all seriousness.
Ron lost control
and the horrified expression returned, bigger and better than ever. He
spluttered something incomprehensible.
"Ooh, I wish I had
a camera right now," George said with glee, framing Ron with his fingers and
making clicking noises. "Fred would die to see this."
"NO!!" Ron
practically screamed. He grabbed George by the shoulders and shook him
violently. "You can't tell anyone! ANYONE!! Not Lee, not Angelina, not Harry,
not even Fred!"
"Can I tell
Hermione?" George asked innocently.
Ron made a funny
high pitched squawking noise that George had to assume meant "no". This
deduction was helped by the fact that his face went even redder, his expression
defied imagination by becoming even more horrified and he shook his head so
violently that George thought it might fall off at any second.
"Sit down, Ron,
before you have a stroke or something."
With a slight
push, Ron collapsed into the chair. He buried his face in his hands, and began
shaking his head again. George felt that this opportunity had to be milked for
all it was worth.
"I can't really
blame you, Ron," he said, affecting a thoughtful expression and rubbing his
chin. "I mean, did you see her at the Yule Ball?"
"Of course I saw
her!! I couldn't keep my eyes off her all night!!" Ron said, sitting up
straight again. He had realised his position was helpless now, so he had little
choice. If he gave George the information he wanted, maybe he would agree to
keep quiet. It was a long shot, but it was the only one Ron had left.
George's
thoughtful expression deepened for a second, and he glanced at the bare spots
on the walls that had until recently been graced by posters of a certain
Bulgarian Quiditch player. "Ah," he said, "the redecorations take on more
significance. She went to the ball with... "
"Don't remind me!"
Ron cut him off.
"So Ron's face has
gone red, but he's also more than a little green about this?" Jealousy is so
fun to watch, he reminded himself.
"I suppose so,"
Ron replied in a dejected sort of voice. "At first I thought I was angry
because she was going with someone from Durmstrang, but now I'm afraid that
there's more to it than that."
George sat down on
Ron's bed. "How long have you felt like this about her?" Listen to me, he
thought, I'm being serious! Good lord, what's come over me? I'm so ashamed…
"I don't know,"
Ron replied. I only just realised it recently. I was thinking about it and all
of a sudden, BANG, I realise what I've been doing and how much of a fool I must
have made of myself at the ball."
"I see. She's not
such a bad catch, really, is she? I mean, she's really loosened up quite a bit
since we first met her. Well, except for that SPEW thing last year, that was
just nuts."
"She's in Bulgaria
with Krum right now! There's nothing I can do! And believe me, I'm very, very
scared that I'm going to make an even bigger fool of myself next year!"
"Well the way I
see it Ron, you have two choices. You can keep this up and risk making a fool
out of yourself like you just said, or you can actually DO something about it."
"Like what?!?"
"Like grit your
teeth, stand up and tell her!"
"WHAT? ARE YOU OUT
OF YOUR MIND?!? She's going out with Krum, you idiot!"
"But Krum's in
Bulgaria, Ron. Hermione's a smart girl, and she may well decide that a long
distance relationship just isn't going to work, and then you're in with a
chance. You never know, mate, you might get lucky."
"Right, sure."
"You know what
they say, Ron: "Love is like a box of chocolates.""
"What? Who says
that? What on earth is that supposed to mean?"
"Um, I don't
actually know," George admitted. "It's a muggle thing."
"Where in the
world did you pick that up?"
"That's not
important Ron, what's important is that I tell Fred all about this and we keep
the village awake all night with our laughter." George deserved credit in that
he managed to say this with an entirely straight face. Ron's face was anything
but straight.
"No! You said you
wouldn't tell!"
"No, Ron, you
said I wouldn't tell. I said Fred would die to…"
Ron cut him off
again. "No, please!! Promise me you won't tell a soul!"
"Ok, Ron," George
said rolling his eyes, as though he thought it was a completely
incomprehensible request, "I won't tell a soul."
Ron sighed happily
and settled back in the chair.
But George wasn't
finished yet. "Can I drop hints?"
"What? No!"
"Can I write it
down, just so I don't forget?"
"No!!"
"Can I use reverse
psychology? You know, "Hey Fred, did you know that Ron absolutely, one hundred
percent does not have a crush on Hermione Granger, wink wink, nudge
nudge?"
"NO!!! You can't
say anything!! To ANYONE!! No living soul must know!"
"Then can I tell a
ghost?"
"NO!!!!!"
"Sorry Ron, I'm
just messing with your mind a little. Although it seems like it's been pretty
well messed without any help from me."
Ron actually went
down on his knees. George was quite impressed by this, and hoped that Ron would
humiliate himself just a little bit more. He wasn't allowed to tell anyone
about this right now, but the day would come when Fred would hear the entire
thing. George wanted the story to be as impressive as possible.
"Please promise me
that you won't tell anyone!" said Ron. "Swear on…on…on the joke shop!! Swear to
me on the future of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes that you will not tell anyone that
this conversation ever took place!"
George grudgingly
admitted to himself that he felt some pity towards Ron, but he was realistic
enough to know that this couldn't stay a secret for long. Ron would make a
mistake, just like he did here, and it would be out. Once that happened, it
couldn't be stopped, and the rumour would take on a life of its own. But George
decided to humour him a bit. "Ok Ron," he said, raising his left hand and
placing his right over his heart, "I, George Weasley do solemnly swear by the
future of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes that I will not tell anyone of this
conversation or of what was spoken of in it."
Ron sagged in relief.
"Thank you, thankyou thankyou thankyou," he said.
"Hey, it was my
pleasure." George grinned as he stood up. "Got any more deep dark secrets you
want to tell me?"
"As though I would
tell you anything after this."
"Hey, I listened
didn't I?" exclaimed George, trying to sound indignant through his laughter, "I
gave you some advice, didn't I?"
"If you call that
advice."
George grinned at
his brother. "There's an easy solution, Ron, and I say take it before someone
else finds out. Someone less trustworthy than yours truly."
The venomous look
in Ron's eyes convinced George it was time to quit while he was ahead. He
walked out of his brother's room, laughing his head off. When he got back to
the bedroom he shared with Fred, his twin looked up from the new order form
draft he was working on.
"What's so funny?"
he asked.
"Ah, don't worry
about it Fred, I've got a funny feeling you'll learn soon enough. And funny is
the operative word.