Well, we're halfway there. Here's part five, told by Ron, who (by the way) does not belong to me. Nor do any of the other characters. Just in case you couldn't tell.
Enjoy! I hope.
Glass Slippers
by Scabbers
Chapter 5- Ron
And on top of everything, something was up with Harry. Like this morning, he slept right through the alarm clock, and finally I had to enlist Pigwidgeon to help me wake him up.
"OKAY, I'm awake!" he finally gasped, when he's had enough of the sharp little owl feet on his face. He stifled a mighty yawn with one hand, and fumbled around for his glasses in the other.
"Geez, Harry, are you okay?" I asked, concerned, "You look awful." He had these huge bags under his eyes, and his glasses rested crookedly on his nose.
"Oh, I'm fine. Really I am." I raised my eyebrows.
"No, really, I'm okay. Just didn't get much sleep last night. I was in the common room until pretty late."
"Why were you in the common room?"
He shifted his eyes away from me, but I noticed the way he gently rubbed his forehead with his fingers.
"Your scar was hurting, wasn't it?"
"No!" he answered quickly. "I was just...well, actually, I was helping your sister practice her lines."
"I imagine she enjoyed that," I said, nudging him in the ribs. I was pretty sure he was hiding something about that scar of his, but I decided to let it go. Frankly, I didn't like to think of it.
"Shut up," he said, his cheeks looking rather pink, if I do say so myself. It worried me, actually, that he was letting something as silly as my lovestruck sister bother him. It was just weird, that's all. And then there was Hermione. I couldn't stop thinking of all that stuff she told Ginny, the things I wasn't supposed to hear. I was going crazy, thinking about it all.
~
The weeks passed quickly, and before I knew it, it was time for our dress rehearsal. "Can you believe we're performing in just-" Hermione paused to check her watch, "Eighteen hours?" She smiled nervously at me, and her eyes looked so wide that I had to blush and look away. Did she really think she wasn't pretty?
Parvati and Lavender looked particularly glum when they arrived at the dress rehearsal that evening; I imagine had something to do with Professor Trelawney's premonition that tomorrow's show would result in an unprecedented number of fatalities, including (of course) Harry Potter. Amazing, considering he wasn't even in the play.
However, everything seemed to be going perfectly in rehearsal. "Shows how much that old bat knows," I said to Hermione, "No one's forgotten their lines or died or anything so far. She gave me a look that would have been condescending if her eyes hadn't looked so terrified.
I wondered what it was that scared her so much. I thought maybe it was something more than just stage fright; with girls, it's always something big and secret that's bothering them, and never what you'd expect. Especially with girls like Hermione, who you can bet are always thinking. Honestly, it just shouldn't be legal to be as smart as she is.
All of the sudden, I remembered something she had said a long time ago, something that didn't bother me much until now. About her still wanting to wear a dress and be pretty, even though she was smart, something like that. I wanted to tell her it's her smartness that makes her pretty, like that look in her eyes when she's figured something out, or the way she bites her lip a bit when she's thinking hard. But you can't just go up to a girl and tell her all that, not if you ever plan on looking her in the eye again.
~
My sister spilled her pumpkin juice twice at breakfast this morning, she was so nervous. Poor kid- I suppose I'd be that jittery myself if I was playing Cinderella in four hours. Although, I predict I'd look mighty gorgeous in a ball gown.
As it was, my stomach was butterfly-free, not that I had any lines to worry about messing up. Hermione, on the other hand, was as white as Hedwig, and she didn't say a word all through the meal.
Draco Malfoy, as always, had something nasty to say to each of us, saving until last his wittiest repertoire of ugly stepsister remarks for Hermione. I mean, I could kill him. How could he fall asleep each night, knowing that thanks to him, a girl thought she wasn't pretty. But wasn't I just as bad, then, letting her just go on believing it?
~
We had to report backstage two hours before the show started, to get into our costumes and such. It was crazy back there, I'm talking total chaos. Everyone was stumbling around, halfway in costume, looking for their props or muttering their lines to themselves. This Hufflepuff in my year, Hannah Abbott, had all this greasy Muggle stage make-up, and she kept smearing it on people's faces, even the boys. I got dressed quickly, then found a nice, dark corner, where I could avoid Hannah and her smelly pink brushes, tubes, and pots.
Everyone was just shaking by now, from nerves, except Lavender, who was acting like this was all something she did every day. Most of us got dressed right away, for lack of anything better to do with ourselves, but she was just flitting about, chatting with people and smooching with Seamus "for good luck", until her costume was the only one left on the rack. I imagine she just wanted the dressing room to herself.
I eventually spotted Hermione in her bright orange stepsister dress, watching Ginny's cheeks get attacked with a pink powdery brush. I decided to risk walking over there, which I soon regretted, because Hannah smiled and evilly waved a suspicious looking tube at me before I could even say a word to Hermione. I quickly did an about face and made like I had some important Ball Guest business to take care of back behind the prop table. If Hannah Abbott thought I intended to prance around before my brothers and the whole school, all painted up like some kind of oversexed Muggle girl, well then, she had another thought coming.
I felt a finger gently tap my shoulder, which made me jump; it was Hermione.
"Hey," she said. She was all done up like a stepsister, with a funny hat on her head and big freckles painted on her cheeks. Like freckles were supposed to be ugly or something. Hmph.
I opened my mouth to say something for her, but Hannah must have put some junk on her eyelashes, and it was really messing with my brain. It was driving me crazy, how long her eyelashes looked.
"Well," she said, twirling around so that awful dress flared out, "Do I look ugly enough?" She smiled sadly.
"No," I said, all of the sudden, "They screwed up. You look like Cinderella. You always do."
She stared at me, her lip trembling like she was going to cry.
"Look, I'm sorry," I said quickly, "I didn't mean....I mean...I meant what I said, but I didn't mean to-"
Then, to my surprise, her lips touched mine for just a second, so softly I thought I'd dreamt it.
"Break a leg, Ron," she said.
~
Whoops. Didn't mean to make it so corny at the end. Couldn't help it, though. :) Well, hoped you liked part five, and keep your eyes open for parts six, seven, and eight.
-Scabbers
Enjoy! I hope.
Glass Slippers
by Scabbers
Chapter 5- Ron
And on top of everything, something was up with Harry. Like this morning, he slept right through the alarm clock, and finally I had to enlist Pigwidgeon to help me wake him up.
"OKAY, I'm awake!" he finally gasped, when he's had enough of the sharp little owl feet on his face. He stifled a mighty yawn with one hand, and fumbled around for his glasses in the other.
"Geez, Harry, are you okay?" I asked, concerned, "You look awful." He had these huge bags under his eyes, and his glasses rested crookedly on his nose.
"Oh, I'm fine. Really I am." I raised my eyebrows.
"No, really, I'm okay. Just didn't get much sleep last night. I was in the common room until pretty late."
"Why were you in the common room?"
He shifted his eyes away from me, but I noticed the way he gently rubbed his forehead with his fingers.
"Your scar was hurting, wasn't it?"
"No!" he answered quickly. "I was just...well, actually, I was helping your sister practice her lines."
"I imagine she enjoyed that," I said, nudging him in the ribs. I was pretty sure he was hiding something about that scar of his, but I decided to let it go. Frankly, I didn't like to think of it.
"Shut up," he said, his cheeks looking rather pink, if I do say so myself. It worried me, actually, that he was letting something as silly as my lovestruck sister bother him. It was just weird, that's all. And then there was Hermione. I couldn't stop thinking of all that stuff she told Ginny, the things I wasn't supposed to hear. I was going crazy, thinking about it all.
~
The weeks passed quickly, and before I knew it, it was time for our dress rehearsal. "Can you believe we're performing in just-" Hermione paused to check her watch, "Eighteen hours?" She smiled nervously at me, and her eyes looked so wide that I had to blush and look away. Did she really think she wasn't pretty?
Parvati and Lavender looked particularly glum when they arrived at the dress rehearsal that evening; I imagine had something to do with Professor Trelawney's premonition that tomorrow's show would result in an unprecedented number of fatalities, including (of course) Harry Potter. Amazing, considering he wasn't even in the play.
However, everything seemed to be going perfectly in rehearsal. "Shows how much that old bat knows," I said to Hermione, "No one's forgotten their lines or died or anything so far. She gave me a look that would have been condescending if her eyes hadn't looked so terrified.
I wondered what it was that scared her so much. I thought maybe it was something more than just stage fright; with girls, it's always something big and secret that's bothering them, and never what you'd expect. Especially with girls like Hermione, who you can bet are always thinking. Honestly, it just shouldn't be legal to be as smart as she is.
All of the sudden, I remembered something she had said a long time ago, something that didn't bother me much until now. About her still wanting to wear a dress and be pretty, even though she was smart, something like that. I wanted to tell her it's her smartness that makes her pretty, like that look in her eyes when she's figured something out, or the way she bites her lip a bit when she's thinking hard. But you can't just go up to a girl and tell her all that, not if you ever plan on looking her in the eye again.
~
My sister spilled her pumpkin juice twice at breakfast this morning, she was so nervous. Poor kid- I suppose I'd be that jittery myself if I was playing Cinderella in four hours. Although, I predict I'd look mighty gorgeous in a ball gown.
As it was, my stomach was butterfly-free, not that I had any lines to worry about messing up. Hermione, on the other hand, was as white as Hedwig, and she didn't say a word all through the meal.
Draco Malfoy, as always, had something nasty to say to each of us, saving until last his wittiest repertoire of ugly stepsister remarks for Hermione. I mean, I could kill him. How could he fall asleep each night, knowing that thanks to him, a girl thought she wasn't pretty. But wasn't I just as bad, then, letting her just go on believing it?
~
We had to report backstage two hours before the show started, to get into our costumes and such. It was crazy back there, I'm talking total chaos. Everyone was stumbling around, halfway in costume, looking for their props or muttering their lines to themselves. This Hufflepuff in my year, Hannah Abbott, had all this greasy Muggle stage make-up, and she kept smearing it on people's faces, even the boys. I got dressed quickly, then found a nice, dark corner, where I could avoid Hannah and her smelly pink brushes, tubes, and pots.
Everyone was just shaking by now, from nerves, except Lavender, who was acting like this was all something she did every day. Most of us got dressed right away, for lack of anything better to do with ourselves, but she was just flitting about, chatting with people and smooching with Seamus "for good luck", until her costume was the only one left on the rack. I imagine she just wanted the dressing room to herself.
I eventually spotted Hermione in her bright orange stepsister dress, watching Ginny's cheeks get attacked with a pink powdery brush. I decided to risk walking over there, which I soon regretted, because Hannah smiled and evilly waved a suspicious looking tube at me before I could even say a word to Hermione. I quickly did an about face and made like I had some important Ball Guest business to take care of back behind the prop table. If Hannah Abbott thought I intended to prance around before my brothers and the whole school, all painted up like some kind of oversexed Muggle girl, well then, she had another thought coming.
I felt a finger gently tap my shoulder, which made me jump; it was Hermione.
"Hey," she said. She was all done up like a stepsister, with a funny hat on her head and big freckles painted on her cheeks. Like freckles were supposed to be ugly or something. Hmph.
I opened my mouth to say something for her, but Hannah must have put some junk on her eyelashes, and it was really messing with my brain. It was driving me crazy, how long her eyelashes looked.
"Well," she said, twirling around so that awful dress flared out, "Do I look ugly enough?" She smiled sadly.
"No," I said, all of the sudden, "They screwed up. You look like Cinderella. You always do."
She stared at me, her lip trembling like she was going to cry.
"Look, I'm sorry," I said quickly, "I didn't mean....I mean...I meant what I said, but I didn't mean to-"
Then, to my surprise, her lips touched mine for just a second, so softly I thought I'd dreamt it.
"Break a leg, Ron," she said.
~
Whoops. Didn't mean to make it so corny at the end. Couldn't help it, though. :) Well, hoped you liked part five, and keep your eyes open for parts six, seven, and eight.
-Scabbers