Double Trouble

Jedi Goat

Prompt: 037 - Sound
Summary: Set after the "dancing lessons" scene in the GoF movie. George is determined to teach Riley Hunter to dance, no matter the cost.


Dancing Shoes

"Oi, Hunter, you'll never get a date to the ball with your two left feet," sniggered Fred.

"Shut up," Riley said darkly.

The Gryffindor sixth years were on their way upstairs after a lesson from none other than their Head of House, Professor McGonagall, in the etiquette of ballroom dancing. The girls had been positively giggly about it; Riley Hunter was silently fuming; and the Weasley twins concurred that the experience had been mostly...educational.

"To be fair, though, he was better than Ron," George bolstered helpfully, and Fred conceded a thoughtful nod.

"Ah, yes, he did set a new standard for the 'Most Awkward Slow-Dance in History'. Well, lucky for you, Riley, you might get yourself a date after all."

Riley huffed his blond fringe from his eyes. "And I suppose you two are set?"

"'Course," Fred said breezily.

"Who are you going with, then?" Alex intervened, dodging a cluster of whispering fifth year girls to keep up with them along the corridor.

"Dunno yet, to be honest," answered George with a shrug.

"But we figure, what with our dashing good looks –"

"– our charming personalities –"

"– and our ability not to step on girls' toes," Fred concluded, grinning, "we should be better off than the alternatives."

Riley glowered at the back of Fred's head and stalked past them to disappear around the corner of the hall, robes billowing after him. Fred pretended not to notice as he turned back, now beaming at Alex.

"And what about you? You seemed to have hit it off pretty well with a certain Miss Bell."

Alex blinked and rubbed sheepishly at the back of his neck, but George missed his reply; he was staring down the hall in the direction Riley had disappeared, frowning slightly. Then, shaking himself from his reverie, he muttered a thoughtless excuse that only Lee, by his nod, seemed to have heard; and with that George left the others to their banter and ducked down the side passage after Riley.

It didn't take him long to catch up with the blond, and, falling into stride with him, George grinned sideways at his friend.

"Where're you off to?"

"Common room," Riley said shortly. "Why're you following me?"

George shrugged slightly. "You're going the wrong way."

Indeed, rounding the next corner the duo came face to face with a dead end in the form of an old tapestry. Riley stopped short, staring at the woven imagery of a wizard forcefully restrained by several large trolls, apparently about to be beheaded. His nose wrinkled, but he didn't stop stonily staring at the tapestry. George looked on with a faintly amused smile.

"You know, Fred's a bit dense sometimes, but he wasn't trying to be cruel."

"I – I know that!" Riley suddenly wheeled around from the morbid artwork, heat rising beneath his collar. "God, it's not that. A lot of stupid stuff's pissing me off right now, that's all, and I feel like crap because of the cold. You didn't have to come after me," he concluded more quietly, his gaze now fixated on the stone floor.

George shrugged again. "If you like, grab a few of our jumpers. We've got loads."

"...Thanks." Riley fidgeted with his collar, still not looking at him.

George hesitated and a half-formed idea at the back of his mind came back. "Y'know...if you wanted to learn how to dance proper, well, I could teach you..."

Riley glanced up sharply. George grinned and slung his hands in his pockets. "Because, not to remind you or anything, but Fred and I are kind of naturals at it."

"You'd really...teach me?" Riley's brow had furrowed with suspicion, but George heard an unmistakeable note of hope in his tone, too, and bit back a grin.

"I've got nothing else to do, so yeah, why not?"


George now wondered over his words as he stood in the dormitory long after the other boys had headed down to dinner. Though he had a feeling Fred would have laughed them out of the room if he heard about their improvised lessons, George had stubbornly sworn that, one way or another, he would get the younger Hunter to dance. Somehow, it had seemed a good idea at the time, and when he later explained his plan to Lee.

Now that his new charge fidgeted in front of him, sleeves rolled up past his elbows, apprehensively eyeing the old record player that George had found who-knows-where and that was now blaring chintzy waltz music over a crackle of static, George's confidence wavered a little.

But, a promise was a promise, and so he flashed a nonchalant grin and laid out the basic steps, crossing the dormitory floor. "So – step with the music, see? You can count if it helps: one – two – three – one – two – three."

"Like this?" Riley shuffled after him in imitation.

"Uh-huh, just like that."

He leaned back against the bedpost and watched as Riley repeated the waltz steps, his eyes trained on the floor. As he moved unencumbered, his steps quickened and he remembered to lift his feet; he tightened his next turn and shifted immediately to a sliding step to the right, a neat step back. As the blond gained confidence George started to grin, and his mind flashed back to a long ago morning creeping down to the common room and catching Riley Hunter in similar focused form in his martial arts drills.

"One ... two ... three ... one – whoops –" Riley stumbled over a strewn lump of clothing, caught himself on the edge of the nearest bed, and succinctly kicked the pyjamas under the bed before continuing.

"Fred really should pick up after himself, shouldn't he?" George critiqued brightly. Riley didn't answer, completing another circuit of their cramped dance floor before turning back and raising his head triumphantly.

"I reckon I did it. ...Did I?"

"With flying colours," George assured him. "See, that wasn't so hard, was it?"

"Nah." Riley shook his hair out of his eyes, more at ease now as he allowed himself to grin back at George. "Now, why couldn't they teach us like this? This, I can do."

George clapped his hands and hopped off the edge of the bed. "Excellent. Now that you've got the footwork down, let's move on."

"What's nex-?"

Before Riley had the chance to counteract or even protest, George stepped forward and seized his left hand in his right; he then placed his left hand on Riley's shoulder. "Now," he said in all seriousness, "you'll use that wonderful imagination of yours and pretend I'm a girl, all right?"

Riley stared back at him, eyes wide. "Er –"

"You're imagining, yes?" George pressed.

"I...yeah, okay."

"Good," he said cheerfully, pretending not to notice Riley's palm resting slick against his. "Now, your other hand goes on my waist."

Riley hesitated before tentatively setting his right hand above George's hip. "Don't you...I mean, doesn't this make you a bit uncomfortable...?" he asked George's feet.

"Hunter, I bet Lee I could get you to dance, and if this is what it takes, so be it. And besides," he grinned cheekily, "we're pretending I'm a girl. Or have you forgotten already?"

Riley didn't protest when George tugged at his hand, leading him across the dormitory in time to the music, deftly avoiding scattered trunks and discarded clothes. He kept up a cheerful count even as Riley's hands shook.

"And one – two – ouch!"

"Sorry."

George hissed faintly through his teeth. "That was my foot, Hunter, I did like it the way it was." He settled for a sigh and instead loosened his grip. It took a moment for Riley to realize he was supposed to twirl, and he did so very quickly, fumbling for George's side again.

"You're losing focus."

"I don't usually dance with other guys," Riley countered, an edge underlying his tone.

George couldn't resist. "Nah, I'm a girl, remember?" But nonetheless he added more gently, "You count for a while. It'll help."

"Er – okay. One – two –"

George, grinning at him, momentarily lost track of their position in the room; and when he next stepped forward, Riley stepped back onto an open trunk. He staggered and immediately reached for something to anchor himself – his hands closed in the front of George's robes. George opened his mouth in surprise as they both overbalanced and then Riley toppled backward, dragging George down by the tie.

"Ah –"

They hit the floor with a spectacular thump. George came down on top of Riley and felt him gasp for breath beneath him, spread eagled on the floor; but at the same time his head connected with the edge of the trunk and he reeled, blinking back stars.

He hissed through his teeth and clutched at his head, and he dimly felt Riley seize his shoulders, attempting at once to haul him up and steady him.

"Fuck – fuck, I'm so sorry –" a hasty voice said in his ear. George closed his watering eyes briefly, but he managed a weak grin nonetheless.

"That'll be the second time you give me a concussion."

Through his fingers, he caught Riley's sheepish look as he laughed. Mustering his wits George shifted upward on his knees and Riley held to his shoulders while he wavered.

"Though, this time, it was probably my fault," he confessed with a grimace as he now held out his hands to Riley.

"Whoa, clearly, we missed something in here," a wry, very familiar voice broke in, and George blinked up to see Fred standing over the trunk, eyebrows raised.

"Is there something you're not telling us, George?"

He glanced downward, finding himself still sitting astride Riley's waist, the other boy with his mouth slightly open, for once entirely lost for words. George opened his mouth.

"Wait...how'd you get in here?"

"The door, Georgie, it's a wonderful invention." Fred came over and hooked his hands beneath his arms, hauling George up. Meanwhile Riley sat up on the floor, somewhat dazed; otherwise, George was sure he would have been cursing a blue streak.

Fred looked down at him and shook his head slightly. "Hunter, have you had a bad influence on him?"

"Wait...no," George said as his mind finally cleared enough for realization to hit him, and color rushed suddenly to his face. He swatted half-heartedly at the hand on his shoulder. "Get out. And take your overactive imagination with you."

"He was giving me dancing lessons. Nothing more." Riley lifted his chin.

"And he might've given me a concussion."

Fred only shook his head pityingly. "We can't take you two anywhere, can we?"

"Guess not," echoed George, worming his way out of Fred's hold. "Well, that settles it – you can take over from here."

"Wait, what?" two voices repeated incredulously.

George stifled a smirk without turning around. "Fred can teach you the rest. I'm gonna go give Lee his six knuts...and maybe get an ice pack. Good luck, Fred."

And with that he headed out of the dormitory before either of them could protest. His last glimpse through the closing door was of Riley sitting on the floor, Fred looking down at him, both sporting equally suspicious stares.

George leaned up against the door, rubbing vaguely at a growing bruise at the side of his forehead. "You're gonna need it," he muttered under his breath, and grinned.

Well, at least that would keep the two busy for a while.

The End


Awkward...

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