"Rolo!"
"No. You're supposed to say Marco. And then we say, "Polo" not "Rolo." Honestly, Ron it's not that difficult!"
"Well, this Marco Polo sounds like a thick git if you ask me."
"No one did ask you, and Marco Polo was a famous explorer, not a thick git, and anyway it doesn't matter who he was, it's just a fun game! Now, stop opening your eyes!"
Harry Potter reflected on the scene before him. It was a beautiful day, so deep into the summer that the average school child gave up on remembering what day of the week it was. He was in the pond by his favorite place, the Burrow, and the water was bath-water-warm. And his best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger were with him, having a row. Life was just as it should be.
Harry had arrived at the Burrow as soon as he could after the end of the term. The Dursley's shed no tear at his departure, and the Weasley's were elated at his arrival. Hermione had arrived that morning.
Ron had suggested a swim, and his sister and twin bothers joined them. Hermione had suggested the muggle pool game of Marco Polo, in which one person closes his eyes and attempts to catch and correctly guess the identity of one of the other players. Without sight to aid him, said player could call out "Marco" at any time, to which the other players needed to reply "Polo." Using his sense of hearing (NO MAGIC, Hermione insisted), he could then attempt to locate his catch. But at the moment, said "player" was frustrating said "catches."
"Enough pathetic attempts at cheating, Ron," said Fred.
"Yeah. Now you have to start your count down again," said George.
Ron rolled his eyes, mumbling, "I still don't understand why you wouldn't just use a simple Accio charm."
Begrudgingly he, as Hermione had instructed, ducked under water and counted down from ten as the others scattered themselves about. When he emerged he heard some splashing toward his left. He quickly turned and called out, "Rol..Polo..er...MARCO!"
"Polo," echoed back to him from several different locations, from voices of various pitches. He lunged further toward his left and caught a shoulder before it slid out of his grasp. Treading water quickly, he followed the phantom limb and called out "Marco" again to verify the source.
"Polo!"
Fred!
He lunged again, and this time he caught a firm hold. "Fred!" Ron cried out loud, "Ha! I got you!" Ron opened his eyes.
"No, you got George," replied his captor.
Ron groaned in disappointment, until he noticed the tell-tale scar from a particularly aggressive garden gnome bite, confirming that he had, in fact, caught Fred.
Ron was livid. "Pathetic attempts at cheating? My arse!" He wrestled with Fred, both trying to dunk the other underwater.
"Okay, okay little brother. You got me." Fred put his hands up in surrender. But the moment Ron let go, Fred grabbed hold and properly submerged him.
Ginny, sounding eerily like Mrs. Weasley, scolded, "Enough already, boys. Come now. Fred, it's your turn."
As Fred counted down, the others scattered themselves according to strategy. Harry and George (and Fred when he wasn't "it") liked to position themselves close to the guesser, for an added challenge. Ginny kept a safer distance away. Hermione usually distanced herself the most, and Ron, well, Ron never seemed more than a few feet away from Hermione.
Fred jumped up and yelled out a mighty, "Marco!" Though Harry and George called "Polo" nearly right in his ear, Fred didn't turn toward them. It seemed he had a strategy of his own.
Suddenly, Fred dove under water.
"Where's he going?" Hermione cried, alarmed.
"Is that against the rules?" Harry asked.
"No, not really. Just unconventional." She said, trying to see where he was through the greenish water.
"Well," laughed Ron, "no one ever argued Fred was conventional."
Hermione smiled, "That's true...ahhh!" At that moment, Fred emerged from below the water, Hermione in his grasp. She quickly covered her mouth, hoping her cry hadn't given her away.
"That was cruel, Fred!" cried Ginny, and Hermione shot her look. Fred was bound to guess correctly, now that Ginny gave away her location and they were the only two girls playing.
But Fred, eyes closed, simply had a waggish grin on his face. He was behind Hermione, his arms around her middle.
"Well, let's see now. Or, feel, rather." As Fred said this, Ron felt an inexplicable anger.
Fred lifted his hand and ran his fingers through Hermione's hair. "Could be Harry..."
Harry gave a good-natured laugh at this.
Hermione suppressed a giggle.
Ron's rage began to boil.
Fred spun Hermione around. He lifted one of her arms, saying, "Hmm, actually these little arms feel quite a bit like Ron's..."
Hermione bit her tongue.
Ginny roared with laughter.
Fred placed his hands gently on either side of Hermione's face. "Of course, this facial hair feels most like George..."
Hermione rolled her eyes.
Ron clenched his fists.
"IT'S HERMIONE, YOU GIT!" Ron's voice was pitched and sounded strangled.
Hermione turned suddenly at Ron's shout, but Fred didn't retreat. "No, no. Couldn't be Hermione. Well, I'd have to check the feet to be sure." With that, Fred dove under water and a second later, Hermione let out a shrill giggle that turned Ron's flushed face an even darker shade of red.
"Stop...haha...stop that! Hahaha," she continued. "Oh I'm...hahaha...terribly ticklish..."
Harry decided that now, was probably the right time to step in. "Good game. Maybe we should, um, er...see if lunch is ready?" He knew food was a good distraction when it came to Ron.
"Yes," Ron replied. "I'm done with this game." He watched as Hermione chastised Fred, playfully splashing him with water.
Back home, Harry and Ron were in Ron's room, changing out of their swim trunks. Ron was quiet, save for a few mutterings that Harry couldn't make out. Harry debated for a moment whether to get involved.
Ron took the matter out of Harry's head. "Fred can be such a prat sometimes. Honestly, you're lucky you don't have brothers."
"Oh but you're forgetting my dear, nearly-brother Duddy-kins."
Ron snorted. "I mean it though."
"Fred's not so bad. No worse than George. Definitely better than Percy. And anyway, what's he done or said that's any different from usual?"
"Besides groping our friend moments ago?" Ron demanded.
"I'd hardly call that groping." Harry scoffed. "And, it's not like she seemed to mind." Harry knew as soon as he said it that it was the wrong thing to say. He could read the devastation on Ron's face.
"I just mean that...it couldn't possibly be groping. Because if it was...well, you know Hermione. She would have...scolded him properly or..." Harry struggled to clarify.
"Unless she likes him..." Ron said, softly, almost to himself.
Harry chuckled, "I find that very unlikely."
Ron simply shrugged, still looking dejected.
Could this be the moment he finally came clean about his feeling for Hermione? Unsure he even wanted to venture down this path, Harry, as casually as possible asked, "But, if she did...would it matter?"
Ron was thoughtful for a moment. Then, with the same forced casualness, he replied, "It wouldn't. Not to me. I mean, I'd feel bad for her, of course. And for him, too. Hey, we should try to set them up. Could be good for a laugh." At that, Ron made a bizarre sound, a strangled noise that Harry could only assume was an attempt at a laugh.
Harry left Ron's room and headed down to the den. He found Hermione and Fred playing a game of exploding snap. He knew Ron would be down after him shortly, and he dreaded the thought of how he might react.
"You're a shark, Hermione! That's three wins for you."
Hermione shrugged, "I'm not usually very good at this game. Don't get much practice. The only games we play at home are of the non-magical variety."
Fred scoffed, "Non-magical? How dreadful."
As Harry predicted, Ron entered the room, stopping for a moment to survey the scene.
"Oh I don't know about that. You enjoyed Marco Polo today, didn't you?" Hermione asked.
Fred looked at Ron as he said, "Why, yes I did." He then added, "We should play some more muggle games. Broaden our horizons a bit."
Ron headed outside.
"Why the sudden interest in muggle culture? You're starting to sound like your dad," Hermione teased.
Harry added, "Yeah, careful mate. You don't want to end up with a shed full of muggle rubbish."
As if on cue, Mr. Weasley entered the den. The three exchanged knowing smiles as he took a seat.
"Hermione, good to see you. Arrived this morning?" Mr. Weasley asked.
Ron reentered the room. "Storm's coming."
"Oh delightful!" Mr. Weasley said. "That reminds me. I overheard some muggles talking about the chance for a storm this evening and they expressed concern over a...now what did they call it? A black...?"
"A blackout?" Hermione offered.
"Yes, indeed. A blackout."
Without needing further prompting, Hermione knew Mr. Weasley was hoping for an explanation and so she obliged. "Yes. Sometimes during particularly bad thunderstorms, power outages can occur. Resulting, temporarily, in a loss of electricity."
"Oh electricity! Quite a fascinating thing. So, without it, no lights. Thus the name..."
"Blackout! That's correct." Hermione smiled, feeling like a schoolteacher with a bright (albeit young) pupil.
"That's mad if you ask me," Ron interjected. "No lights because of some rain? How are they even related?"
"Once again, Ronald, nobody has asked you," Hermione replied. "And it's not the rain that is the cause. It's the lightning."
"Well I think it sounds like fun," Fred said.
"Fun? You're daft! What kind of fun can you have without any light?" Ron demanded.
"Actually," Harry added, "blackouts can be sort of fun." Ron looked at Harry as if he had committed treason.
"Well, there wasn't much fun to be had at the Dursley's, that's for certain. But when the power went out, all the neighborhood kids would play outside. Often until much later than usual," said Harry.
"Oh I always thought blackouts were fun, too. Mom and Dad would light candles and we'd tell scary stories," Hermione smiled fondly at the memory.
"Well that settles it!" cried Mr. Weasley, exuberantly. "We'll have our own blackout after dinner! No lights..."
"Dad!" cried Ron.
"...and no magic!"
"You can't be serious!" Ron, having just turned 17 that year and being therefore finally permitted to use magic outside of Hogwarts, was livid. "This is mental! Enough of these brainless muggle games!"
Hermione at first scowled at Ron. But her expression changed to one of hurt and disappointment.
"I think I'll go see if Ginny has finished changing," she said, needing more than anything to leave the room.
After dinner, Mr. Weasley corralled them into the den. The storm was raging outside, and with each clash of thunder, the house could be felt to tremble slightly.
Ron was happy that his mother seemed to agree that staging a blackout was quite absurd. After all, they didn't use electricity and already used candles regularly. But, to his dismay, after everyone gathered to sit in a circle on the floor in the dim candlelight, she said, "Oh this is rather nice! The family all together!"
Mr. Weasley took a seat between Harry and Hermione, and was peppering them with questions about electricity. Ron watched, and he found himself looking intently at Hermione. The candlelight flickered across her face. Her smile, Ron noticed, was soft, and warm, and inviting despite Mr. Weasley's incessant inquiries. He wondered, for only a moment, if this blackout wasn't a bad idea after all.
Hermione's eye caught his, but he looked quickly away. She frowned, turning back to Mr. Weasley.
"So the next part is for us to tell scary stories. Hermione, why don't you start?" Mr. Weasley suggested.
"Well," she began, "I'm not sure I have a good one to tell. You see, the few scary stories I heard were about goblins or ghosts. And that was before I knew they actually existed and really aren't very scary. Now, I can't imagine telling a scary story about a bank employee or a Hogwarts' house mascot."
"What about you, Harry?" Mr. Weasley asked, hopefully. When Harry simply shrugged, Mr. Weasley seemed disappointed.
"I'll tell one, Dad," said Fred. He repositioned himself up to his knees, leaning over a candle that cast a freakish glow on his face. He proceeded to tell a story about a race of tiny spiders who would burrow into a victim's brain through the ear. They could then take over the consciousness of the victim, turning him into a zombie.
Ron laughed, "That's the best you got?" He clearly felt that Fred was attempting to frighten him, playing on his fear of spiders. Suddenly, Ron felt a fluttering on his neck, that moved quickly to his left ear.
"What the bloody..." he cried, jumping from his spot and wildly smacking his neck, ear, and head. Fred and George were the first to laugh, followed by Ginny when she noticed the feather quill George had used to trick Ron.
Mrs. Weasley interceded, "Now boys! That's quite enough."
Ron flashed a rude hand gesture at George, before moving to the other side of the circle to sit between Ginny and Hermione.
Mrs. Weasley went next, telling one of her favorite Beedle the Bard stories, "The Warlock's Hairy Heart." It was a creepy and gruesome story, and Harry was quite surprised she chose to tell it. The Weasley's seemed rather bored, despite her dramatic recitation, prompting Harry to wonder just what kind of bedtime stories Mrs. Weasley usually told.
Both Ginny and George each took turns telling a tale before Mrs. Weasley yawned loudly and ushered Mr. Weasley to bed. "Come now, Arthur. Leave the young ones to their games."
Hermione yawned as well, stretching her arms over her head and arching her back. Ron watched in his periphery, willing himself to not turn and stare directly at her. She reposition her legs, her right leg brushing against Ron's. He felt his face get hot, and knew it wasn't from the candles.
"Since this day has turned into Muggle Game Appreciation Day, I suggest we play just one more," said Fred.
Harry asked, "Which one?"
"Truth or dare," Fred replied.
Hermione blushed, "How do you know about that game?"
"I played it once with Angelina," Fred said, with a grin.
"How do you play?" Ron asked.
"You take turns," Ginny explained, "choosing either 'truth' or 'dare.' If you choose truth, you have to honestly answer any one question that you are asked. If you pick dare, you have do whatever you are dared to do. It's pretty simple." Ginny noticed everyone looking at her peculiarly. "What? Dean told me about it."
"And that," Fred said, "is the last thing we want to hear about." Harry nodded in agreement.
"Well, if you ask me..." Ron began.
Hermione cut him off, "No one asked you! Why must you be so negative about everything?" She surprised herself. She didn't really want to play truth or dare, certainly not with the mischievous Weasley twins dolling out potential dares. But, she was taking personally Ron's dislike for any muggle game.
"How do you know I was even going to say something negative? I think this sounds like a great game," Ron lied, spitefully. "Harry. True or false?"
"It's truth or dare, Ron. And, I guess, truth." Harry inadvertently looked at Ginny.
"Hmm. Who is your favorite quidditch player?" Ron asked.
Harry smiled, "Galvin Gudgeon, I suppose." Ron nodded approvingly at his choice of a Chudley Cannons player.
"Terrible question, Ron. You're not supposed to ask about quidditich. You're supposed to ask things like, what girl do you fancy or..." Ginny stopped herself too late, and her brothers looked suspiciously at her. Hermione fought a smile, and Harry raised his eyebrows.
After a moment, Harry turned to Hermione, "Truth or dare, Hermione?"
She thought for a moment before choosing dare, knowing she would be ridiculed if she only ever chose truth, and that Harry was probably the safest person in the room to receive a dare from. Or so she thought.
"I dare you..." Harry started, "to kiss one of the Weasley's."
Hermione looked scandalized. "Honestly, Harry..."
Ron felt his heartbeat quicken. He thought that if he had to watch Hermione kiss Fred or George, he might be sick. And then the thought of Hermione kissing him, however unlikely, made him feel faint. He refused to look up, pretending to be interested in the hem of his jumper. He felt her stir next him, climbing up on her knees and moving to her right, toward him. He stopped breathing.. She moved farther over and...kissed Ginny on the cheek.
Ginny and Hermione both laughed.
"Now wait a moment," began Fred.
"Are you going to tell me Ginny isn't a Weasley?" Hermione laughed, moving back to her seat. Ron finally remembered to breath, and found himself laughing.
Hermione continued, "Anyway. Fred, truth or..."
"Dare, of course." he said, without waiting for her to finish.
"I dare you..." She contemplated for a few moments. Then, pleased with herself, she continued, "I dare you to do every homework assignment next school term!"
Ron felt a pang in his chest. Of course he never enjoyed Hermione nagging him about his homework. But, it was something she reserved for him. Well, and Harry. But mostly him.
"Oh, come on Hermione. Couldn't you dare me to run outside completely starkers or something? I would do that," he bragged.
"I know you would. That's why I wanted to think of a dare that would be a challenge for you. I'll be checking up on you all year. Now, it's your turn to pick someone."
Fred brightened at that, and looked up the ceiling, "Hmmm, let's see. Ron. Dear brother. Truth or dare?"
Ron knew this was dangerous territory. He certainly wasn't willing to run around starkers, but there were also quite a few questions he wouldn't want to have to answer-questions he hadn't quite answered for himself, even. He needed to choose wisely.
"Er..dare, I guess." He took a breath, hoping he didn't have on dodgy underpants.
Fred smiled confidently, "Good choice. I dare you to kiss one of the Granger's."
It was as if the air was sucked out of the room. At first, Ron couldn't quite understand the dare. But as soon as his brain caught up, he felt a fluttering in his stomach and a warmth rise up his ears. Everyone else was motionless, looking at Ron with various expressions. George matched his twin's impish grin. Ginny had a wide, open-mouthed smile splayed across her face. Harry's jaw had dropped ever so slightly. Only Hermione wasn't looking at him, and instead seemed overcome with the same fascination with the hem of her shirt that Ron had most recently had with his jumper.
"I can't. I...uh...I can't do...that," Ron stammered.
"You have to. It's the rule," Fred explained.
"I...can't."
Hermione looked up, catching Ron's eye for a moment before he sheepishly turned his attention to his lap.
"If you ask me," Hermione stated, coldly, "this game is rubbish." She stood up and started for the front door.
"Hermione..." Ron called, but she continued out the door.
"Nice going, git!" Ginny said, punching his arm for good measure.
"That really was pathetic," George added.
"Boy, you really don't know how to take advantage of a favor," said Fred.
"A favor? What do you mean?" Ron demanded, his tone savage.
"Why do you think I suggested this game, little brother? We've all been bored to death with the Ron and Hermione saga," Fred droned, rolling his eyes. "Will Ron ever pluck up the courage to tell Hermione how he feels? Will Hermione ever consider dating a ginger? Find out, on next's week's episode of 'Somebody Please Stupify Me!'"
Harry couldn't help but snicker. When Ron shot him a death glare, he simply said, "It's true Ron. That was a good chance to just get it over with."
Ron glowered at each of them, but then his expression softened into just simple misery. "I'm a complete prat," he muttered.
"Look, you haven't totally fouled it all up," Harry said, sympathetically.
"Right," added Ginny, encouragingly. "At the very least you can make it better."
"How?" Ron asked miserably.
"Well she is out on the porch," Fred motioned toward the door.
"Alone," George added.
"Ron, I dare you to go outside and talk to Hermione. And you have to do it. You only get one pass on a dare, and you wasted it already," Fred said.
"One pass? I never heard that-" Ginny began, only to be hushed by Fred.
They all nodded at Ron, who finally stood up. Moved as if under a spell, Ron found himself walking in the direction Hermione had just left. He watched his hand open the door, and felt his feet move him outside. He hoped he was actually under a spell, that he would magically be able to say everything and say it right. And, he thought, that the spell might protect him from the inevitable rejection he was about to face.
"The storm ended." He said it as a statement, though he meant for it to sound like a question, to give her a reason to talk to him. She was sitting on the porch swing, which squealed slightly as she gently rocked. She was quiet.
When the silence became almost palpable, and Ron was about to turn back inside, Hermione finally said, "It's just the lull between the storms."
"I'm sorry?"
"Another storm is on the way. You can see the lightning in the distance." Hermione kept her gaze straight ahead.
"Oh."
Silence again.
"Hermione-"
"Ron-"
"You go," Hermione insisted.
Ron took a deep breath, steadying himself. "Truth or dare?"
Hermione sighed, but played along, "Truth."
"Do you...fancy...Fred?"
Hermione turned suddenly toward Ron, eyes wide. "What? Why would you ask that?"
Ron shrugged, "I don't know. You and him were...friendly in the pond today. And when it was your turn to give out a truth or a dare, you picked him. And you dared him to do his homework." As Ron provided his "evidence" out loud, he realized how weak and ridiculous it actually was. "Never mind," he said.
"No, you asked and I have to answer honestly," Hermione said, straightening herself up. "Despite your observations, I have to say that I do not, in fact, fancy Fred. Now, truth or dare?"
Ron smiled, feeling slightly more at ease. He moved over to the porch swing, carefully sitting next to her. "Truth."
Hermione took a deep breath. "Why didn't you...I mean, why couldn't you...you know. Kiss me. Whydidn'tyoukissme?" Hermione said the last part all in one quick breath.
Ron's felt his newfound confidence waver.
Hermione continued, "I mean, I know you think it's a stupid muggle game. And, it is. And I know you aren't actually keen on kissing me. And I know..."
Ron cut her off, "Hermione, you don't know anything."
"What?" She asked, incredulous.
Ron laughed lightly, "Seriously. For the first time ever in your life. You don't know what you're talking about. I didn't kiss you because...well, I didn't want it to be...like that."
"Like what?" her voice was nearly a whisper.
"Because of a game. In front of an audience. Without your consent."
"Well," she continued softly, "that's actually rather noble."
Ron could feel his heart thumping in his chest, up his neck, in his ears. He wondered if she could hear it. "Whenever I imagine kissing you, it is nothing like that scene back there."
Hermione felt her jaw drop. "You imagine kissing me?"
Ron was sure his heart was going to burst out of his chest.
"All the time."
He felt the words leave his mouth, and thought there was no question that he was under a spell now, for there was no way he could have had the confidence to say that out loud on his own free will.
Silence again. Neither was ready to break it just yet. So, mother nature intervened. At that moment, a blinding streak of lightning split the sky and was immediately followed by a crash of thunder.
Hermione shrieked, and involuntarily grabbed onto Ron's arm. At her touch, Ron felt a surge of electricity, not unlike the lightning, shoot through him.
"I'm sorry," she said, but didn't let go. "Ron?"
"Yes?"
The rain returned, moving like a sheet of water from the east and pounding on the porch roof.
"Truth or dare. Pick dare."
He shook his head, confused. "That's not how it works. And it's not your turn."
"Just pick dare," she ordered, locking her eyes on his.
"Okay. Dare." He couldn't help but smile at the look on her face.
"I dare you to kiss me. But not because of the game. And without an audience. And...with my consent." Hermione's nerves overcame her, and she looked away, out in the distance, at the raging storm.
Ron unsuccessfully willed his trembling hand to be steady, as he gently turned Hermione's face toward his. Another loud clap of thunder sounded, making both of them jump.
They both laughed nervously, and then Ron leaned in and kissed her smile.
"Bloody finally," Fred said, who was smacked immediately by Ginny.
"Quiet!" she scolded. "They'll hear you."
"Not likely over this storm," Fred said, rubbing the spot Ginny had injured. They were peeking through the blinds and listening through an extendable ear.
Harry kept a chivalric distance, siting on the couch away from the window, pretending to read the Daily Prophet. He smiled to himself, mentally congratulating Ron. Well done, mate.