The Ninth and Final Installment of The Weasley Trap by Ziegod Lizski



Ginny had always enjoyed watching people dancing. Just by watching someone move, she could learn a great deal about his or her personality. Yes, she mused, there are many different ways to shake your tushy. For instance, Parvati had a style of dancing that Ginny had never seen before--she gyrated and pulsated to the music in close proximity to several boys, who seemed to rather enjoy it. Neville bounced about, his treacherous shoes stomping on any toes within a five kilometer radius of him.The most charming dancer, however, was Harry, who swayed self-consciously from foot to foot. She could tell that he didn't want to be on the dance floor, that he was just trying to be kind to his numerous admirers.


She smiled at this. As an observer of people, she thought, she understood things more clearly than others. Yes, she was a She wasn't bitter about her status on the societal food-chain; rather, she enjoyed being invisible.


In what she would later describe as slow motion, Harry turned toward Ginny and began to approach her.


Why aren't you dancing? he asked.


I'm not a big dancer, she replied, shrugging.


But even Neville is dancing, and everyone knows the sheer bone-crushing power of his feet.


Well, I just like watching better, I guess.


Ginny, there are some things you've just to experience. You can't sit in the stands all your life...You can't just be a spectator.


Harry, there are a bunch of girls out there waiting to dance with you. You're the bloody pimp of Gryffindor house! Why are you wasting your time with me?


Because--well--the thing is, Gin, I want--I want to dance with you.


Ginny felt as though the wind had been knocked out of her, as though every organ in her body had spontaneously stopped functioning. Gin, she thought, he called me Gin. Ooh! I love how he says my name! Gin...


She was beginning to drool--had Ginny Weasley's life been a musical, this would be where she would break into song.


But--hang on, he muttered, thinking. He pulled his wand out of his pocket, pointed it at Ginny, and said a spell that she had never heard before.


Ginny looked down. Where the high hem of her mini dress had been, there were now a pair of old jeans. For the first time that night, she was not shivering, and she realized that it was because she was now wearing a capacious jumper.


he said, But you looked very uncomfortable in that, er, dress...if you can call it that. Besides, you look better this way.


Taking her hand, he led her out on to the dance floor. Just as they were about to begin slow dancing, though, Lee Jordan (the DJ) started to play a new track. Suddenly, George broke through the crowd, shouting.


Make way! Make way! I've got a new dance move! Watch and learn!


As he was the victim of severe head trauma and could quite possibly be volatile, no one dared question the redheaded lunatic who had begun flailing about in the middle of the dance floor.


I call this one The Quidditch,' he announced proudly.


Sure enough, he appeared to be riding on an invisible broom, searching for a golden snitch that only he could see. Despite the fact that George was, well, nutters, the dance was well received and caught on quickly. Soon everyone was doing George Weasley's twisted ballet. Harry, of course, was as good at dancing Quidditch as he was at the regular variety, though he never took his eyes off of Ginny.


Off in a corner, Ron and Hermione were snogging blissfully, and Fred and his Angel had taken to beating each other's bludger on the dance floor. And it didn't matter that Voldemort was still alive, didn't matter that her brother was delusional, because for the first time after so many Riddled years of solitude, Ginny knew what it was like to dance.


The End.


***

Doesn't this just give you the warm fuzzies? It was more fluffy and less sarcastic than the rest of the story, I know, and for that I apologize, unless you're the type of folk who fancy a good bit of fluff. I don't know why this took so long to write. I guess I got a *little* sidetracked. Thanks for reading, though.
Peace out and keep it real,
Ziegod