A/N: I figured that since everything I write is mostly very dark and angst-y and sad, I should try to lighten up. So here's my attempt. I'd appreciate any reviews.
It was Hermione who taught me how to dance.
Not regular dance, like how a lot of couples did at the Yule Ball, where the girl put her arms around the boy's neck and he put his at the small of her back, and they did this weird thing where they swayed in circles. Anyone can do that. No, Hermione taught me how to dance. Really dance. Swing, ballroom, waltz, that kind of thing, where people step out of the way to watch and cheer when it's over, or when the boy kisses the girl and says something romantic at the end of the routine. Sure, Fred tried to teach me, but Hermione was the one who actually got the point across.
Hermione could've been a choreographer. I had no idea where she learned to dance while watching her waltz at the Ball or wedding, but maybe she and Vicky learned for the Yule Ball. Or maybe it was something Muggles did a lot. I wasn't sure. Either way, Hermione was the one who taught me how.
It had been at Bill and Fleur's wedding.
"Would you like to dance, Hermione?" I asked, shooting Krum an irritated look. I held out my hand, and she blinked up at me, looking pleasantly surprised. She took my hand and I helped her up, hoping my hands weren't sweaty or anything. I couldn't help but smirk at Krum as I led Hermione to the center of the dance floor.
We started dancing, the regular way, the kind couples do at the Yule Ball. Immediately she steps away, laughing, and I instantly felt offended, my cheeks warming.
"What?" I ask, unable to keep the hurt out of my voice.
"You don't dance like that, Ron, not at a wedding," she teases. She jerks her head to the right, where Fred and George were dancing rather enthusiastically with two vela, twirling them around and then trading partners. "You dance like that at a wedding, Ron."
Suddenly I felt very nervous as I watched my brothers dance with the veela. George spun her around and picked her up and they continued doing an elaborate series of fast motion that I barely caught. Fred was doing something that looked equally difficult, if not more so, and he caught my eye as he danced and raised an eyebrow, looking from me to Hermione. I blushed, but luckily she wasn't paying much attention to this unspoken interaction. She, like most of the people at the reception, were thoroughly engrossed with watching my brothers spin and dance and look as graceful on the dance floor as if they were just walking.
When the song ended the spectators applauded and Fred murmured something to his partner before walking over to Hermione and I. "Why aren't you two lovebirds dancing?" he asked.
Please don't make a scene here, Fred, don't embarrass me, please.
Hermione laughed. "I don't know about lovebirds," she says, and that hurts worse than anything. "We would be dancing, if Ron here knew how to."
Hermione, why in bloody hell are you going along with this?
"Ronniekins needs help with dancing? Here, I'll show you."
"I really don't think that's necessary," I mumble.
"Of course it is, Ron," Fred retorts. "You know, women find men who can dance much more attractive than men who can't. Isn't that right, Hermione?"
Now it was her turn to be embarrassed. "What? No, that's not true." Still, she looked red in the face, and I couldn't help wondering why Fred was trying to ruin the only relationship that meant anything to me.
"She's just saying that because she doesn't want to admit that I'm attractive," Fred says dismissively. "Come on, Ron, let's dance." With that, he grabbed my hand and dragged me out into the middle.
"I don't think this is necessary," I snap.
"Of course it is, don't be a fool, Ron. Now, since you're a beginner, why don't we…foxtrot?"
"That sounds very difficult," I reply honestly. "Why were you interfering back there?"
"Dear God, Ron, someone had to, you're absolutely helpless when it comes to girls. Now, you'll be leading, so I'm going to put my right hand in your left, and then we put our other hands on each other's shoulders."
"Fred, stop, please, I'll muck everything up."
"Rubbish," Fred responds. "You can't be as bad as Lee. Now, step back, now front-longer strides, Ron-hold me like you love me, Ron," he adds loudly. I flush, fully aware of everyone watching. We go past George, who was drinking punch now, and he smirks at me. I hear Fleur and Bill laugh.
"Where in bloody hell did you learn to dance?" I ask.
"Neville, he's great at this stuff. You wouldn't expect that, would you? Quit stepping on my feet, for Merlin's sake, Ron."
"Quit putting your bloody feet under mine," I snap back.
"Piss off, Ron, it's your fault anyway. Just watch your feet. Now, when you're dancing with Hermione, you want to maintain eye contact. It's good. It's how me and Angelina s- Never mind. But it's better if you maintain eye contact, it gets you farther."
It seemed insane that Neville knew how to do these things and I couldn't even get my feet straight.
"You're awful Ron, you're not even on beat."
"Fine," I snap, stepping away from Fred. "Fine. I just won't dance with Hermione. Vicky's probably already swept her up, anyway." But no, there she was, watching and giggling near the punch bowl with George.
"George," Fred orders, "why don't you show Ronniekins how to dance? Maybe if he watches someone else he can get it bloody right."
George grins. "Glad to." He offers his hand to Hermione, who blushes, and I watch as they dance. They look far more at ease than I had felt and I feel a flash of envy as George spins her around.
"Don't be jealous," Fred says. "George has his eye on Alicia Spinnet. Anyway, it's not like Hermione would ever fancy one of us, would she?"
"No," I agree. It still makes my ears burn to watch them waltz elegantly around the room.
"See how he's not stepping on her feet?" Fred adds wryly.
"Yeah," I say. "I see it."
"Good. Personally, I think you're a lost cause when it comes to dancing. You might be good at tracking down Horcruxes, but you couldn't feather step for the life of you."
I have no idea what feather step is, but I say quickly, "Not so loud. Mum doesn't know yet. How do you know, anyway?"
"Hermione slipped something at breakfast to George about how she wouldn't be here long, and we got it out of her. And when were you planning on telling anyone? Next month? Next year? Grow up, Ron. You can trust us. We care about the three of you, you know. We'd probably give you stuff to help if we'd found out sooner, and we would later, but the way Hermione talked you're leaving before then."
I didn't want to think about the task ahead very much, and I said so. Fred laughs. "Whatever, Ron. Good luck."
I get the feeling he's talking about more than dancing with Hermione, and when she and George return, this time she offers to dance with me.
"Sure," I say. I try to remember Fred's instruction and put one hand on her shoulder.
"Other shoulder, Ron, and other hand too," she says helpfully.
"Right, I knew that. And then we move up, and back, and then left?"
"Close enough," she says. She smiles at me, and it looks like she's genuinely enjoying herself. "You're really not that bad."
"You're kidding, right?" I answer. "I'm awful."
"Fred and George aren't the most patient teachers, either," she says in my defense.
"Where did you learn to dance?" I ask suspiciously. I can't help but look over at Krum, who was now talking to an elderly man.
"Neville taught Viktor and I before the Yule Ball."
"Did Neville teach everyone but me how to dance?"
"Basically," she says.
"The bastard," I say lightly, and she laughs.
"You just need a little work." A faster, more upbeat song begins. Hermione looks at me. "Can you swing?"
"Pardon?"
"Can you swing dance?"
"I'm not even sure what that is."
"It's much, much easier than foxtrot," she promises, taking both of my hands in hers. "Spin me out, and then back in."
I do, thankfully without tripping her. Then she spins me out, something I didn't know women were supposed to do when dancing, and then we attempt a few other things.
"You're getting the hang of it," Hermione says for the brief moment she is in my arms before the music picks up. The dance becomes faster and I pull her back in close, and I stare down into her eyes for a long moment. She stares back up, and her lips part, and I want nothing more than to kiss her. Then someone bumps into me, and I look up abruptly. The moment is over. Damn clumsiness.
"You're pretty good, Ron," she says. "At dancing." We step off the floor again to watch some of the others. It takes me a long moment to realize her hand is still in mine, and the comprehension sends a jolt through me. Still, I don't say anything. It feels nice to hold hands with the girl I love.
This is rather different than my normal stuff. Please review :)