Disclaimer: If you know this song, kudos to you, but it's older than me, so it can't possibly be mine. It belongs to the legendary ABBA. As for the characters, if you haven't noticed that this is a fan fiction site, and all these characters belong to JK Rowling, then I feel sorry for you.
Author Note: Well, I don't know if any of you listen to ABBA at all, but I have a record of theirs (primitive, I know) and I was just sitting, thinking the other day when I realized that two of their songs from the record would be really fun to make into songfics, so here goes. Enjoy.
~Ninny Weasley~
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Dum Dum Diddle
Ron was standing in the dark, at the top of the Astronomy tower, at 12:30am on a Thursday. Now one might ask what it was that he would be doing at the top of the Astronomy tower at 12:30am on a Thursday, except no-one knew that he was there. No one except Ron, that is.
The truth was that Ron didn't even know why he was there. He had just woken up at midnight one night, for no reason at all, and had an irresistible urge to go for a walk. Just to be on the safe side, Ron had borrowed Harry's Invisibility cloak from it's hiding place (magically reduced until it would have fit a mouse, and then folded up in an old pair of uncle Vernon's socks, which was then hidden under the corner of Harry's mattress), and set off down the corridor.
Once he was outside the common room, he headed left, the right, then right again, then up a staircase, until he was completely lost. It was all her fault, too. He knew now why he had woken up. He was thinking about her again, and when he thought about her, he could never sleep. It was a wonder he ever got any sleep at all, really.
He kept walking, hoping to see something he recognised, so as to get his bearings. The suits of armour were no use, as they moved around as they pleased, as did the people in the paintings which lined the walls of all the corridors in the Hogwarts castle.
He stumbled, as his foot caught on the hem of the Invisibility cloak, and he swore loudly before regaining his balance. Carefully he slunk close to the wall of the corridor, listening for anyone that might have heard him. When he was sure that no one was around, he kept walking, more alert now than he was before, listening intensely in the darkness.
A strange sound met his ears, and he nearly jumped with surprise, as he listened harder.
Nothing. Then something. The nothing.
He walked forwards, strangely drawn by the snatches of the weird, disjointed melody he heard, floating down the corridor.
As he got closer, the notes strung together to form a sweet, mournful tune. It sounded like a muggle instrument he had heard played on one of the stations he had listened to with the radio (charmed to work off electricity) that he had been given for Christmas that year.
As he drew closer to the source of the music, he realized that he was at the entrance to the Astronomy tower, and began to climb the stairs to find out what was making this sweet, sad music that filled his ears drew him so.
He climbed out onto the roof, captured by the rhythm and the colours of the music. And then he saw her. She was standing on the roof, eyes closed, focussed entirely on the music she was making with her violin. He stared, mouth hanging slightly open, as he watched her. He had never seen something so beautiful, and he wanted to stay there forever, secretly watching. But the night flew by, and before he knew it, she opened her eyes, yawned, packed away her violin, and headed back down to her dormitory.
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She had been back the next night; and the next; and every night for almost a term now. Every night, as soon as the other girls in her dorm were asleep, she would retrieve her violin and head out to play, alone, or so she thought. But every night Ron followed her, wanting to watch her again. He didn't know how long she had been playing the violin in secret, but he never wanted to miss out on seeing her play again. He was entranced by her music, and he was entranced by her.
A few times he had convinced himself that he would reveal himself – throw off the cloak, and profess his love for her – but it had never happened. When she started playing he couldn't move. She was in her own world, and he was spellbound by her. So night after night he watched.
And here he was again tonight. Watching from the cover of the Invisibility cloak. Silently wishing that he was the violin she loved so much.
I can hear how you
work, practising hard
Playing night and day, woah-oh
And it sounds better now
Yes, you improve every time you play, woah-oh
He had listened as she improved every night. She hardly made any mistakes now, and she played so many different songs. Some were ones she had played before, others were new ones. Some he even suspected she made up herself. All were beautiful.
But it's bad
You're so sad
And you're only smiling
When you play your violin
She was different now from when he had met her six years ago. She had calmed down a bit since then, and she was certainly more mature, but there was something missing. A spark in her had somehow gone out when Voldemort returned. Some of the life in her had been taken away, and it made Ron want to do terrible things to whoever was responsible for it.
Dum-dum-diddle, to be your fiddle
To be so near you and not just hear you
Dum-dum-diddle, to be your fiddle
I think then maybe you'd see me, baby
You'd be mine
And we'd be together all the time
Wish I was, dum-dum-diddle, your darling fiddle
He wished that she loved him as much as she loved her violin. He watched her as she held the bow, expertly stroked it against the strings, gently fingered out the chords. There was something she poured out into playing that thing that she never shared with him, or anyone. It was strictly between her, and her violin.
But I think you don't
know that I exist
I'm the quiet kind, woah-oh
From the day when I first listened to you
You've been on my mind, woah-oh
Ron had always been a bit shy around girls, but she had him absolutely stumped. He could never tell her how he felt – not in a million years. He didn't know when he had started loving her. It kind of snuck up on him, he guessed. There was no one thing that had made him fell that way. Not one thing, but everything. Everything she did made him love her more, until he felt like he would burst from the sheer magnitude of the feelings inside him.
But he was too shy to tell her, and so nothing had come of it.
You don't care
It's not fair
And you're only smiling
When you play your violin
He was pretty sure that she didn't like him, anyway. What would a beautiful, intelligent and passionate girl like her want to do with gangly, freckle-faced, dirt poor Ron Weasley? She was his friend, nothing more. Besides, she was way out of his league, and from what he could tell, she saved up all her passion for that damned instrument. She didn't have room for him is her life, what with her studies, a busy social life, and her midnight adventures to the Astronomy tower.
Dum-dum-diddle, to be your fiddle
To be so near you and not just hear you
Dum-dum-diddle, to be your fiddle
I think then maybe you'd see me, baby
You'd be mine
And we'd be together all the time
Dum-dum-diddle, to be your fiddle
To be so near you and not just hear you
Dum-dum-diddle, to be your fiddle
I think then maybe you'd see me, baby
You'd be mine
And we'd be together all the time
Wish I was, dum-dum-diddle, your darling fiddle
For the first time after watching her for nearly a term, he looked away. There was no point in him staying here, watching her in secret, if he was never going to tell her how he felt. There was no point in him wasting his emotions on her, when she couldn't possibly feel for him like he did for her.
He sighed inwardly, as he turned, pulled the cloak tighter around him, and silently walked away down the stairs towards the common room.
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Hermione stirred at what she thought was the sound of a cloak swishing. She lifted her bow from the strings and opened her eyes. "Ron?" she said, and then frowned. Of course it wasn't Ron. What would he be doing at the top of the Astronomy tower at midnight, watching her play her violin in the dark?
She was jumping to conclusions. Her mind was telling her what she wanted it to. Of course, she would have loved for him to be there; to share in her music. Hell, if it wasn't for him, she wouldn't need to sneak off and let all her passion out on this damned instrument; if he only felt for her like she felt for him. But there was no hope for that. Why would funny, passionate, and of late rather handsome Ron Weasley want anything to do with boring, bookish Hermione Granger? She could answer that question easily – because he was her friend. But it wasn't enough. She wanted more, but she knew that he could never love her like she had grown to love him these past six years.
She sighed as she packed up her violin and headed back down to the common room.
~Fin.~
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AN: Well, that turned out a lot sadder that I intended. I'd love to hear that it made someone cry. Then I'd know I did a good job. I hope the next one will be happier.
Thanks for reading!
~Ninny Weasley~