"Stage Fights" by Quidditch, Anyone?
Oh my God... I NEED A NEW TITLE!!!
Pink Knickers
Quite obviously, no decent play can exist with only one actor, even if that actor is the multitalented Ronald Weasley. There were a good number of cutsie-puksie little second- and third-year actresses, and even a sprinkling of male actors. Who, for the records, would like everyone out there to know that even though this was a musical, and they were English, that they were as straight as a 180-degree angle... or so they claimed.
Even Ginny was involved. But as she was Ginny (and wasn't as much of a social casualty as her brother), she was more content to work behind the scenes rather than make a fool of herself with the majority of staff and student body peering at her. Her first job was to do the actors' makeup for the very first dress rehearsal.
"And she was totally, like, you are not going to wear those shoes with that belt, are you?" a very unGryffindor-ish Seamus Finnigan gossiped under layers of coverup and lip gloss.
"Oh, I totally know where you're coming from," Justin replied while getting his nails filed. "Ow! I said polish buff only!" he whined to Ginny. He and Seamus exchanges rolling eyes and snobby 'what-eveeer!' sighs.
At another corner of the changing room, a white door opened with a faint squeak. Ron instinctively looked up at the noise and saw the familiar swamp of brown frizz.
"Hermione! What are you doing here?" He hopped down from his own personal chair and lazily tossed aside a quidditch magazine. Hermione smiled timidly and leaked out her answer:
"Well, since I'm not the acting type, but play experience is something every honor student should be apart of, I've decided to help out!"
"Really? That's great!" Ron exclaimed. She grinned back. She failed to mention how technically being part of the play was to just avoid having to kiss her best friend.
"All right, let's get on stage, everyone! Come one, this is our first dress rehearsal and I want everything perfect!" DeMarlo called to the students. They began to file out onto the stage and wait for their first cue.
Hermione was armed with a moldy paintbrush, a ladder, and a quart of blue paint and was told to start painting the sign that was already hanging from the ceiling.
"Now, what sort of genius hangs a sign so high up before painting it?" she proclaimed.
"No time for complaining, Ms. Grooner, just get to work," the Hollywood reject drawled.
Hermione growled somewhat like cross between a mad dog and Marge Simpson.
"She's just ticked because she's the only one who has to be on a ladder in a miniskirt!" a fourth year whispered to Ginny.
And, indeed, the reason Hermione was less than thrilled with her assignment was because everyone and (well, Ginny's) brother could see London, could see France, couldn't help but notice those pink underpants.
The first act went fine. Then Ron came on stage and had one of his bigger parts to sing.
"Now, take it from the top, Weasley."
Ron took a powerful breath, stood straight, and kept his chin up, up, up into the sight of some very distracting knickers. He coughed and asked to start again.
"Fine... when you're ready," DeMarlo said.
Again he inhaled, positioned, yadda yadda... all seemed okay until he knew that those undies were clearly in his view. He managed a squeak and stammered again.
"Drink, Ronald?" DeMarlo instantly sent a cool glass of water Ron's way with a flick of his wand. (This, unsurprisingly, was about the Professor's limit of magical talent.)
"Thanks," Ron croaked. He took a rather long time to finish it off.
"Today, Weasley..."
"Sorry," he mumbled as the glass itself evaporated. He cleared his throat and got prepared- this time ready to close his eyes, which seemed to work... until the end of the piece when instead of doing a double-spin like he was supposed to, he managed to crash right into the set and send the curtain tumbling down.
"Quiet!" DeMarlo commanded to the crew of giggling actresses. "Weasley! That's enough for today. Tomorrow, same time."
A chunk of still-laughing students snickered and kept looking at Ron. "Yeah, and maybe tomorrow Ron can keep his mind on singing, not his little girlfriend's knickers!"
Ron stood in the pool of red curtain and remained silent. His face was a deep crimson, but it was nothing compared to Hermione, who left the room without a word, desperately trying to hide more of her bum with her uniform skirt.
Joy!!! Y'all are so nice for reviewing all my stories, and for saying nice things, and even praising me in French! (which I can't speak, but OH WELL!!!) At school my philosophy is ususally "people suck", but once you take a mental health day off to write, you find that you love people.
