Patronize
Part Five.
"C'mon, Ginny. I don't have all bloody day," grizzled Ron Weasley to his youngest sibling as she fussed and combed through his wet hair.
"Well, Ron, I can either take a while and leave you looking decent, or I could be recklessly fast and you'll end up looking like dad," Ginny snapped.
Ron squirmed in his chair, but said nothing more as his sister combed his shaggy fringe in front of his eyes. Their father was going slightly bald. He really didn't want to go that way at all, least of all not at sixteen.
"Sit still, or I'll just let Mum do it. And you know what her hair cuts are like."
They both laughed, and Ron tried his best to sit still. Their mother insisted each summer holidays that everyone in the family get a hair cut, and said family learned pretty quickly the security of cutting each others' hair, just so their Mum wouldn't attack them with the scissors and leave them looking like they were off to join the military.
"Not too short, okay, Gin? Just so it's out of my face."
"No worries, Ron, it's under control. I learnt from the best..."she trailed off sadly.
The twins always cut each other's hair, (something about not needing mirrors they always said), and Ginny cut the hair for her other brothers. Their poor father was the only one who suffered in stoic silence whilst his wife lovingly gave him a severe haircut.
"Errm. Who's gonna cut your hair this year, Ginny?" Ron asked tentatively. Percy had always cut Ginny's hair, ever since she was small. His eye for detail and perfectionistic nature was well used when working carefully on his sister's long hair.
"I don't know. I sort of did it myself last year, then got Bill to even it out at the back. So I'll probably do that again." She smiled wanly at Ron's reflection and he smiled back through his decreasing fringe. "There you go, you're done," she said, cutting the last lock of fiery hair from his eyeline.
"Cheers, Gin, appreciate it," said Ron, getting up and patting his little sister on the back. If anything she seemed smaller than ever, he thought, though perhaps it was just because he'd gotten taller again in the their two weeks at home.
"Anytime, Ronnikins, now get out, I've got to get ready for Dean," Ginny replied, pushing him bodily from the room.
"What do you mean get ready for Dean? You look fine..." Ron managed before he found himself standing in the hall looking at Ginny's closed door. Ron scratched his head in bewilderment. Would he ever understand the minds of girls? Not bloody likely, he decided.
Ron went to the bathroom and washed his face clear of any stray hair that Ginny hadn't brushed away properly. He carefully shaved the bit of stubble that was beginning to appear on his upper lip and chin and brushed his teeth thoroughly. Next he returned to his room and chose his least frayed and tattered t-shirt, an old grey marl one with the Chudly Cannons logo over the right breast and combed his hair through with his fingers.
"Done," he looked at his watch, "In under five minutes. I don't know what Ginny's on about." He looked at his reflection and saw a thin gangly young man looking back at him.
How could she fancy someone like me, he thought dejectedly, and stooped off downstairs to the living room and took a seat opposite the fireplace to wait for Hermione.
It didn't take long before the familiar green smoke appeared in the grate. Ron leaped to his feet, self consciously smoothing down his tee shirt. But the person who emerged from the flames was not Hermione.
It was Fleur Delacour, with her silvery hair and ravishing smile. Ron tried to shake his head free of the giddy sensation he was experiencing at the sight of her.
"'Ello Ronald," Fleur smiled as she gracefully stepped out of the grate.
"Err, um," Ron stumbled, mentally kicking himself. "Hi Fleur."
"Is 'Arry 'ere too? I would love to say 'ello."
"No. He's not here yet, he's coming next week, I think."
"Oh, well that is a shame, but I'm sure we will see 'eem soon enough. Oh, there you are Bill." She turned towards the fire as another tall red head entered the room.
Ron tried his best to shift focus from Fleur's freshly presented backside to his brother.
"Hi Ron," grinned Bill. "Didn't realize we'd be getting a welcoming party."
"Oh, well, I was just sitting around," said Ron, feigning innocence.
"Without a book or anything?" Bill asked suspiciously. "I think you were waiting for someone, and it wasn't us, was it?" Bill waggled his eyebrows for added effect.
"Shaddup," growled Ron.
"Oh Bill, you're here!" Cooed Mrs. Weasley as she bustled into the room and wrapped her eldest son up in a smothering hug. "You're looking very thin, Bill, I hope you haven't been too busy working to eat."
"I'm fine Mum, honestly," said Bill rolling his eyes. "And look Mum, I bought Fleur with me."
The room felt to Ron as if it had dropped several degrees as his mother and Fleur had some sort of non verbal stand off.
"'Ello Mrs. Weasley. It ees so nice to see you again," tried Fleur.
"Well, any friend of Bill's is a friend of ours," said Mrs. Weasley dismissively.
Thankfully the fire flared again, and drew Ron's attention away from the strained conversation. Surely it was Hermione this time. She wasn't one to be late.
A dread locked head appeared from the fire. Lee Jordon had arrived.
"Oh, come in dear, come in," Mrs. Weasley said to Lee. Ron could see Bill cringing at her favoritism. "I think Fred and George are out in the shed, you know the way through, don't you?"
"Yeah, thanks, Mrs. Weasley," smiled Lee appreciatively. "Hi Ron, Bill, Miss Delacour. See you at the party then."
Ron watched him head out the back door and sat himself back down on the couch.
"I think I'll go take Fleur on a tour of the house, Mum," said Bill. "And I'll talk to you, later, little brother," he finished with a wink as he ushered his girlfriend out of the room.
"Tsk. I don't know about that girl," tutted Mrs. Weasley as if she had forgotten that one of her sons still remained in the room.
"She's not so bad, Mum. Ask Harry," Ron recommended.
Ron was mercifully saved by the peevish look his mother gave him when the green flames licked about the fireplace once more and a figure stumbled and nearly fell out of the grate. Ron leaped to his feet and helped the shaggy figure to his feet.
"Are you okay, Mundungus?"
"Fine, young Weasley, fine. Which one are you, then?" He slurred, obviously somewhat drunk.
"Ron."
"Ah, yes, me old son. Ronald Weasley, as I live and breath," whispered Mundungus Fletcher with an air of mystery.
"And drink," added Mrs. Weasley in a no nonsense voice. "What do you think you're doing turning up at our home in such a state?"
"Well, I heard there was a party, see," said Mundungus as if it was all perfectly logical. "I love a good party, me," he grinned toothily.
Ron couldn't help but snigger, but his mother caught him.
"You think that's funny do you? I forty-something old drunkard turning up at a high school party?"
"No Mum," Ron replied instinctively, as he shurnk back into the couch.
A new voice joined the conversation. "Is he here yet?"
"Who, Ginny dear?"
"Ahhh Ginerva Weasley, by the stars, such a pretty wee lass," croaked Mundungus, holding his hands up to the sky.
"Erm. Hello, Mundungus," Ginny said unsurely. "Dean, Mum. He should be here any minute. Is Hermione not here yet, Ron?" She asked, catching sight of her brother on the couch.
"Not yet," said Ron aloofly.
"Brilliant witch, that one. Could run rings around most," Mundungus said as he staggered toward the kitchen. "Got any Firewhiskey back there, Molly?"
Ron and Ginny grinned at each other as their mother bustled after Mundungus who was clearly going through the kitchen pantry.
"Ah, this'll be him now," squeaked Ginny as the fire blazed once more.
"Don't count on it. The Burrow seems to be the place to be today. I'm expecting Merlin to show up any minute," laughed Ron.
His joke was short lived however when Dean Thomas stepped out of the fireplace and hugged his sister.
"Urg, get a room you two," he snapped. "Actually don't," he recounted hurriedly. "Just don't..." he trailed off, covering his eyes as Dean gave Ginny a peck on the cheek.
"Don't be such a Nanna, Ron," Ginny huffed. "Come on Dean, let's go for a walk."
"By the way, Bill's home. Fleur too," Ron called as they left the room.
"Not her," Ginny wrinkled her nose in disgust as she closed the door.
Ron settled back into the couch, putting his leg up on his knee and jiggling his foot to an imaginary beat. He was beginning to feel a little more than anxious now. More like annoyed. What the hell was Hermione doing? Maybe she was writing yet another pointless letter to Harry or something, he thought harshly.
The fire sparked green once more and his heart leapt, just to fall like lead when one by one Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnet and Angelina Johnson issued from the grate. They all smiled and chatted to him for a few minutes until they abandoned him for the twins and Lee.
He didn't blame them. He had tried to be a good host, but knew he'd been grumpy the whole time. He was feeling the rage bubbling up inside of him. Hermione obviously doesn't fancy me at all, else she'd be here by now, he thought dejectedly.
The next and most unfortunate person to step from the fire was Mr. Weasley, who bought the full brunt of Ron's foul mood, only to be dragged by Mrs. Weasley to the kitchen to resolve the Mundungus related problems she was having.
Ron was just about to give up and leave when the fire hissed and flamed green once more. He turned, a scowl etched in readiness to challenge whoever dared not be Hermione this time.
His heart jerked into his throat when he realized that finally here was Hermione Granger. She stepped out of the grate, turning to drag her trunk out of the fire behind her. She turned back to him and smiled, and his heart melted, all of the past hour of anger dissipated in seconds.
"Hello, Ron," she said warmly as she stood in front of him.
"Hi, Hermione. I'm glad your here at last. What took so bloody long?"
She blushed. He couldn't remember the last time he saw her do that.
"Oh, well I though I should make an effort. You know, for the twin's party."
"But you always look nice," blurted out Ron before he could stop himself.
"Well, that's not at all true, Ron."
"Yeah it is. I mean, you'd look good even in the sack. Err, a sack. Umm, I mean, in anything! You know." He could feel his ears blazing and hoped he'd recovered his revealing sentence well enough. She wasn't slapping him in the face, so maybe she hadn't noticed, he thought hopefully.
"That's very, um, nice of you, Ron, but I can't just get out of bed in the morning without having big hair and pillow creases," she laughed.
"I think you look great in the morning." Oh gods, Ron thought, what am I saying?
Hermione just looked puzzled, and then said, "When have you seen me straight out of bed?"
Fortunately Ron knew exactly when, he'd filed it away in his mind and had reviewed it on many occaisions.
"When we all had to sleep in the Great Hall, remember? When we all thought Sirius was a scary nutter after Harry..." He instantly wished he hadn't said the name of Harry's Godfather. Hermione's warm smile fell at once.
"Sorry," he whispered.
"It's okay," she whispered back.
They stood just looking at each other once more. Ron was forcibly reminded of the train station two weeks ago. He remembered the feel of her arms around him and his heart beat faster. He was trying hard to restrain himself from hugging her again. He didn't want to be out of line. Not with her.
"I missed you," she smiled before flinging her arms around him.