Chapter 8: Music from Another Room
Restless, Ron flung off his sheets and set his feet on the floor with a soft thud. Gazing over at Harry's sleeping form, Ron watched for any signs of wakefulness in his friend. After determining that he hadn't disturbed the-boy-who-rarely-sleeps-through-the-night, Ron turned to gauge the weather from his window.
The light was soft and the dusky blue sky seemed bare and cloud-free; it was perfect weather for an early morning flight, if a mite chilly. Focused on clearing his head with a run through the brisk morning air, Ron decided to work out his restless energy on his broomstick.
Reaching under his white t-shirt to scratch his side and back, Ron rose smoothly from his creaking mattress, tightened the drawstring on his pajama bottoms and padded across the room to his closet. Opening the closet door, he found one of his father's old Muggle castaways—a large, well-worn Oxford shirt—and slipped it on over his t-shirt like a lightweight jacket to ward off the early morning chill. Simultaneously, he stepped into his trainers and unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt, folding them back over his wrists, before exiting his bedroom as quietly as possible.
Yawning slightly, Ron paused on the landing, listening to the house settle, before he started creeping down the stairs. It was so early that even his mum was still abed, and the stillness of the air around him, undisturbed by dueling siblings or other signs of life, was disturbing. Finger-combing his hair into some semblance of order, he reached the bottom landing and moved down the hall towards the broom closet at the end, passing Ginny's room in the process.
Boom, boom, boom, ba-boom.
Her door pulsed with life. Halting, Ron turned an anxious expression towards his sister's vibrating door. He hadn't spent the past fourteen years of his life in the same household as Fred and George, experiencing the aftermath of their various experiments, without developing a keen sense of trepidation over such ominous signs. Stepping closer, he hesitantly brushed his fingers across the rough-hewn surface of Ginny's door, feeling the pulsing vibrations tingle through his fingertips and knuckles. Drawing his hand back, Ron glanced down to see the traces of a bright pink towel peeking up at him from the floor. Ginny had obviously shoved her towel under the door in an attempt to muffle the sounds emitting from her room, but Ron was at too much of a loss to know why she had gone to such great lengths to block the sound.
Curiosity driving him forward, Ron found his hand gripping her doorknob, testing it with a twist of his wrist. Hearing the soft click of the latch release as the doorknob turned fully in his hand, Ron pressed forward, opening the door slowly as he peered into Ginny's room with wary eyes.
Widening in response, his eyes nearly bulged out of his skull as he caught her dancing, her loose-limbed and provocative movements leaving him shocked and bemused at the same time. Choking back a wild laugh, Ron called her name with a hoarse voice, struggling to be heard over the loud, rhythmic bass.
Ginny raised her arms above her head, arching and elongating her spine with graceful movements as music began to spew from the speakers of Hermione's donated CD player. She closed her eyes, feeling the bass pulse through her body in driving waves, and licked her lips in anticipation. Letting her arms fall to the side to lightly slap against her thighs, she poised her body—throwing her shoulders back and tightening the muscles of her arms, stomach, and legs—and waited for the opening chords of the song to play.
Her body picked up the rhythm easily, accentuating the beat with her hips as they swayed and rolled in abandonment. Ginny felt her arms raise of their own accord, flapping ridiculously as she began to hop from one foot to the other in tune with the music. She punched at the air in front of her, punctuating the sound of panting in the song as the bass dropped out for a moment and the male vocalist launched into the chorus.
Holding a hairbrush to her lips, she mouthed the words along with the stereo and lowered her head, rolling her neck in such a way that her long, red ponytail swung over her head in a wild arc. Spinning around to face her bedroom door, Ginny pointed dramatically with her free hand and opened her eyes to emphatically serenade the closed door, only to find herself screaming as she perceived someone standing in the open doorway.
Thrusting the hairbrush behind her back, Ginny haphazardly slapped at the stereo, stopping the song after a few swipes, and turned to face her older brother with wide eyes and red cheeks.
Ron watched Ginny's nervous movements with delighted eyes, noting the way she smoothed her hair with one hand while she guiltily hid her brush-turned-microphone behind her back. Feeling his own mouth twitch as he watched her lips open and close several times, trying and failing to find the words that would alleviate her mortification, Ron finally gave into the urge to smile and soon found himself doubled over with laughter in Ginny's doorway.
"Oh, shut up, you nosy prat." Ginny grumbled finally, seating herself on the edge of her bed with a heavy sigh. "You're worse than the twins."
Wiping tears of mirth from the corners of his eyes, Ron fought to collect himself. Moving into her room, he collapsed onto the bed behind her in an oafish heap. Wheezing with dying laughter, Ron rolled over onto his side and pulled Ginny back, tickling her sides mercilessly.
"Oh, really?" He growled playfully, nearly sputtering as she thrashed against him. "The twins would've run and got Harry!"
"RON!" She squealed, squirming in his grasp until she was able to break free and slug him in the stomach. Watching him curl his lanky body around his injured abdomen, Ginny drew her fist back and slugged him on the shoulder for good measure.
"Ugh!" She growled angrily. "I hate having older brothers. You're all so bloody ridiculous."
"Ouch, Gin!" Ron returned, rubbing the injured flesh under his shirt. "I think you actually knocked the wind right out of me."
"That's hardly an accomplishment." She muttered, crossing her arms across her chest angrily.
Noting his sister's unforgiving posture, Ron sat up on the bed and moved to sit beside her. Ginny crossed her legs in the opposite direction and turned her face away from him in a huff. Sighing, Ron bowed his head and murmured an apology.
"I'm sorry, Ginny. I wasn't trying to spy on you—Really, I wasn't! But when I heard your door THROBBING, I felt it was my duty to make sure you were alright."
Ginny snorted in disbelief, but her spine lost its stiff, broom handle-like quality, and when he reached out she allowed him to rub her back. Turning to slug him playfully on the shoulder, Ginny offered Ron a crooked smile, forgiving him on the spot.
"I guess I DID have my music turned up rather loud." Ginny amended, drawing her knees up to her chest.
"Yeah." He replied, drawing the word out in an exaggerated monotone, causing her to laugh.
"Oh, shut it." Ginny said, bumping his shoulder with her own. "I've listened to my music every morning this summer, and you're the first person to complain."
"Ah, yes." Ron returned. "The towel trick did look a bit rehearsed."
"Of course." She agreed, nodding in acknowledgement.
"So, what were you listening to?" Ron asked, his curiosity piqued by the Muggle CD player on her nightstand.
"Oh, just some homework for Muggle Studies." Ginny answered lightly. "I've been examining Muggle and wizarding music, comparing and contrasting their genres and such."
Ron threw a disgusted expression her way. "That sounds terrible. Why would you start your assignment so early, and during summer hols? I swear, you're starting to sound just like . . . er, nevermind." Ron finished inadequately.
Frowning, Ginny turned away to mutter. "You can say her name, you know. It's not like it conjures her presence or something."
"I know." He whispered, face coloring in shame. Trying to change the subject, Ron pointed at the CD player. "So, what's that song? Some form of eclectronica, is it?"
Smiling briefly, Ginny gently corrected him. "It's called Electronica, actually. Although, I haven't been able to differentiate between that, Dance, Techno, Trance, and what they sometimes call House music. It's been really confusing. But, it's necessary research for the project I need to complete over the summer."
"Oh?" He questioned, surprised that Ginny had been assigned a summer project; it wasn't even her O.W.L. year yet.
"Yeah." Ginny answered with a sigh. "Professor Llewellyn is really planning to put us through our paces this year. At some point this summer, Dad's going to take me with him to the Ministry so that I can do some in-depth research on wizarding sanctions against duplicating copyrighted material."
Ron raised his eyebrows in confusion. Ginny sighed again, absently pulling her hair out of its ponytail.
Mussing her hair with nervous fingers, she explained. "I was assigned to research a Muggle controversy over the summer. We each drew topics from Professor Llewellyn's goblet, and we have to write a report and make a presentation on the subject to the rest of the class when we get back this year.
"I pulled Napster, which is a Muggle company that caused a controversy over copyright infringement in the Muggle world. That basically means that people were trading copies of songs and whatnot without paying the artists for them and it turned into a big legal mess. Now I have to look at our wizarding laws to see if we have similar copyright sanctions."
Ron goggled at her, causing Ginny to flop back on her bed in frustration.
"It's not as bad as it sounds." She muttered, rubbing her eyes in agitation. "It's just a lot of research."
"I'll say!" Ron agreed emphatically, plopping onto his back beside her. Turning his head towards her, he asked. "So, what has any of this got to do with you jerking about like a cat having a fit to music loud enough to wake Bulgaria?"
Pursing her lips, Ginny sat up swiftly with a growl and began pummeling her brother on the shoulder with both fists, showing him no mercy.
After another round of slugging and tickling, Ron found himself seated on the floor in front of Ginny's stereo, flipping through numerous CD cases and riffling through several rolls of parchment. Looking up at his sister, who was lying horizontally across the bed with her head dangling over the side, Ron cleared his throat to gain her attention. She laid there, hair streaming over the side of her white duvet in vivid shades of red and gold, flipping idly through the booklet of the CD she was playing, reading the lyrics and admiring the picture arrangements.
"Ginny?" Ron began, clearing his throat more forcefully as he heard his voice come out as little more than a croak.
"Hmm?" She murmured in distraction.
"These CDs," Ron said, holding up a handful for emphasis. "Did, uh, did she send all of them?"
Rolling her eyes slightly, Ginny answered. "Yes, Ron. Hermione sent all of them." Rolling onto her stomach to meet his gaze, she accused. "You know that we don't use CDs in the wizarding realm. Who else would have sent them?"
Blushing, Ron shrugged his shoulders and lowered his gaze to the cases in his hands. "I don't know. I thought that maybe one of the Creeveys might have loaned them to you."
Shaking her head, Ginny elaborated. "No. They're more concerned with Muggle photography than music."
"And these are all Hermione's CDs?" He asked doubtfully, noting that the music ranged in style from Rock and Pop to Dance and R&B. Looking up to catch Ginny's exasperated expression, he explained. "I guess I always pegged her as a classical music fan. You know, all piano and cello or whatnot."
Nodding begrudgingly, Ginny admitted. "Yeah, I had thought as much at first, too. I was really surprised to see how widely her tastes range."
Watching as Ron idly caressed the cases, his face taking on a longing cast, Ginny suddenly asked: "Would you like to see her favorites?"
Ron looked up at her quickly, first in surprise and then in suspicion. "How do you know which ones are her favorites?"
"She told me, of course." Ginny answered, pulling herself up to slide down to the floor beside him. "Unlike some people I could mention, I actually read and answer her owl post."
Ignoring his sister's pointed comment, Ron shrugged his shoulders in defeat and handed her the cases in his hands. "Well, I'm sure she likes all of these CDs, otherwise she wouldn't have them." He reasoned.
"Yeah, that's true." Ginny admitted. "But she's been writing to me about one song in particular all summer."
"Really?" He asked, his curiosity piqued by the excitement in her voice.
"Yes, really." Ginny answered, her voice taking on an amused tone. Pulling a dark CD from a bright blue case, Ginny exchanged it with the one that was already in the CD player, and skipped forward several tracks. Finding the one she wanted, Ginny leaned back on her arms to listen to the song and watch her older brother in turn.
The soft strains of a sultry ballad poured from the speakers, drenching him with longing like a siren song. Ron felt the song open up like a blooming flower as layers of sound—first a haunting bass, next a melodic acoustic guitar and then a lilting violin—wafted towards him in throbbing waves. It made a subtle, though beautiful, introduction to the actual voice of the female vocalist.
After a brief bit of throaty vocalization, her soulful voice pitched low, serenading them with an apology. Ron began to feel his ears and cheeks begin to tingle in response as her voice turned husky. Leaning closer to the stereo, Ron stared intently at the speakers, trying to decipher the words sung over the gentle thrum of violin and acoustic guitar. The song developed a teasing, if a bit self-deprecating, lilt as she made a confession of love.
Ron felt his skin grow cold and his heart race as he listened to the vocalist paint a picture of one friend falling in love with the other, only to berate herself over the betrayal of their friendship. She sang, "I only promised to love you and not to fall / It turns out I'm the worst kind of friend after all." He felt seared by the raw emotion in her voice as it turned ragged. As the vocalist debated over whether or not to tell him how she felt, how to show him her love, Ron found himself panting in time with the song and listening eagerly for words of encouragement or some kind of advice for his own situation.
He winced involuntarily as the instrumental thrum, which previously had played a sultry, background accompaniment to the vocalist's passions, rose in a cacophony of sound, mimicking her internal struggle. Finally, the sound dropped away, leaving him feeling bereft. His ears strained, trying to pick out the last throes of the song. Gently, the vocalist's voice rose from the depths of vacuous sound to ravage his ears with a soul-rending finale. "It could ruin everything if I don't forget," her plaintive voice sang, a cappella. "Bitterness, internalized, turns love to regret / If I could I would find a way to love you less / But if I lose my heart I'll have nothing else left."
Sitting in front of the stereo as the silence morphed into the next song, Ron sat, ravaged and stunned, feeling raw and not a little exposed. He stared at the speakers with fascination, feeling as if the Muggle device had just raided his soul and sung his story on cue. He was still panting, feeling his chest slowly expand and retract with shallow breaths, when he finally saw his sister's hand break into view.
He watched, in a mild daze, as she pressed a button on the top of the machine, causing the music to stop. He could feel her gaze boring into his skull like nifflers searching for gold. Blinking slowly, Ron became aware of his burning eyes. Forcing himself to take a long, ragged breath he raised a hand to rub his irritated eyes. In that moment, it took more effort to turn and meet his sister's watchful gaze than it did to ask Krum for his autograph.
Ginny indelicately chewed on the side of her thumbnail as she watched Ron listen to what she had dubbed 'Hermione's song' in her head. The song had ended several moments before, but Ron seemed oblivious to that fact. He still sat, hands clenched around his knees, back straining and neck craning, frozen in front of the stereo. His breathing seemed ragged as shallow gasps of air passed back and forth between his dry, nearly chapped lips. He seemed completely out of sorts—not at all the state she had expected to find him in at the end of the song.
At first she had approached the opportunity to see Ron swallow his tongue in shock with mischievous glee, but after seeing him now—his body held rigid as he stared at the speakers, as if moving would break the spell cast over the room by the song—she was less eager. She had hoped to tease him about his burgeoning crush like he had teased her about Harry, or at least to pierce the density that seemed to enshroud all boys; they almost always needed things, especially feelings, spelled out for them. She had thought that this would create the perfect opportunity to hint at Hermione's feelings, and to force him to face his own. Perhaps she had underestimated Ron.
She had never seen such a stark expression on his face before. It was as if he had flushed and blanched at the same time; his face was pale, so light that even his freckles seemed faded, but the apples of his cheeks maintained a florid shade of mottled red. It was unsettling to see Ron, her brazen, bull-headed older brother, reduced to the fragility of spun sugar by a song. If she gazed at him from a certain angle, she could even detect the faint glint of tears.
Ginny bit into her nail with a sense of finality, and tucked the fall of her hair behind both ears. She waited for Ron to move, to make some effort to stop the music or some attempt to defend his strange behavior. When he did neither, merely continued to sit frozen and dazed, Ginny leaned forward on her knees, reaching out with her hand to turn the stereo off. As she settled back on her haunches, waiting for Ron to compose himself enough to meet her worried gaze, she was struck suddenly by a curious thought. Did Ron just get deep?
Ron swallowed briefly and offered a weak smile.
"Well." He replied, stopping to clear the hoarseness from his voice. "That was bloody depressing."
Ginny raised her eyebrows and nodded, taking a second to really look at Ron before responding. "A little. But it's still very pretty. I can see why Hermione likes it so much."
Ron paused for a moment, startled by Ginny's comment. He had become so wrapped up in how the song applied to his own situation that he had forgotten that it was Hermione's song. What did that mean? Did she feel the same way he did when she listened to the song, or did she think of him when she heard it? Maybe she just felt sorry for him, and listening to this song was her way of understanding what he was going through.
Scowling, Ron looked down at the floor and began playing with roll of parchment he found there. "I don't." He replied gruffly.
Ginny smiled to herself, recognizing a jealous huff when she saw it. "Isn't it obvious?" She asked, her voice sounding airy and confident. "She must put on this song, cuddle a pillow, and dream about Viktor—the unrequited love of her life!"
Ginny fought to control her laughter as she watched Ron's face flush furiously.
"Unrequited?" He scoffed, snorting in disbelief. "Krum's still all over her! Unrequited would be if she liked Harry or something."
"But not you?" She questioned slyly.
"What?" He asked, distracted by her knowing smirk.
"Unrequited would be if she liked Harry, right? Sure, I can see that. But what if she liked . . . I don't know—you. Would it be unrequited then?" Ginny leaned back on her arms, grinning so hard she worried her face might split.
"What?" Ron sputtered, nearly ripping the scroll in his hands. Jumping to his feet he pointed at his inquisitor with an accusing finger. "You're barking, that's what you are!"
Ginny jumped to her feet laughing, swatting playfully at Ron's hand. "Ron." She whined teasingly. "Just admit it! You like Hermione."
"Of course I like Hermione." Ron muttered angrily. "She's my best friend."
Sighing disbelievingly, Ginny crossed her arms over her chest and cocked her hip to the side, staring him down. "I can't believe you're acting like such a prat. You like her, and she likes you! Granted, there's no unrequited bit there except that, just like the song, you only think that there is."
Shaking his head, Ron moved to storm out of the room. "Mental! My bloody sister's absolutely MENTAL."
Ginny moved quickly to block his exit by leaning against her closed door. Desperate now, she continued. "You know what the real tragedy in that song is, Ron? That poor girl's friend never put her out of her misery. He never just told her he liked her, and so she spent the rest of her empty hours writing that song. So why won't you just tell her, Ron? Give her something to cuddle other than a pillow!"
Ron stepped back from his sister, frantic eyes scanning her face for signs of insanity. Shaking the forgotten scroll at her, he yelled. "We are not talking about this, Gin. Drop it!"
"I will not!" She screamed, her eyes squinting with fury. Stalking him like a wild cat, she backed him into the far wall and poked his chest with a stern finger. "You're a bloody Gryffindor—"
"SO IS SHE!" He exploded. Face crumpling as he realized that he was beaten, Ron bowed his head and slid down the wall to a sitting position on the floor. "Ah, Gin." He moaned, crumpling the scroll in his hands against his forehead. "I already told her once, and she thought it was a joke! I can't do it again."
"Ronnie." Ginny crooned, kneeling before him with soft hands and worried eyes. Reaching forward to grasp his knee, she shook it to gain his attention. "Oh, Ron. I can't believe that she would do that—not if you were really serious, too. I know she likes you, Ron. If you had told her that she would have snogged your face off!"
Ron gave a watery chuckle at the image his sister described. Wiping his eyes on the back of the parchment, Ron met her gaze and responded. "I told her, Gin. And I thought she liked me, too, but somehow I messed it up. She thought it was all that bloody potion and Cheer Charm."
Peering closely into his disconsolate face, Ginny scrunched her nose in realization. "Oh. Well, that is rotten luck. But, Ron, don't you see? All you have to do is say it again. We all know that you're back to your normal, obnoxious self. I promise you, it'll be different this time."
Ron snorted, unrolling the parchment to wipe his eyes on a dry spot. "Gin, this isn't one of those bleeding novels you like to write. This is real life, and as Harry will agree, there isn't always a happy end—what the . . . ."
Ron pulled the parchment from his face with a sharp gasp, but the song that had leaped into his brain continued to play on.
"Do you hear that?" He asked shrilly, looking around the room for signs of the Wizard's Wireless. "It's Celestina Warbeck! Merlin's Beard! Where? How?"
Ginny peeled the parchment out of his hand and used her Gryffindor necktie to efficiently wipe stray traces of ink from Ron's face. As the ink came off, the music died away, leaving Ron trembling and gazing at his sister in horror.
"Sorry, Ron." She said apologetically. "It must have been your tears that made it transfer. Sorry. Are you okay?"
Ron flinched away from her hand as she attempted to touch his arm. Ginny jumped as Ron violently snatched the parchment out of her hand. Casting a hateful look at her he demanded. "What is this, Ginny? What the bloody hell is this?"