Chapter 6. In which we discover the Sorting Hat doesn't always get it right…
For two days Ron got away with it. Every time the subject of the Ball came up, Ron would suddenly remember that he had to be somewhere else and leave quickly.
On the third day, a parcel arrived from his mother with the morning post.
Ginny had immediately started to snigger and then Ron heard her mutter to Hermione, "Merlin help us not more dress robes!"
Ron he lost his appetite as a wave of deja vu swept over him leaving him feeling sick; he stared forlornly at the box in his hands.
Harry nudged him, "Go on, mate. They can't be as bad as last time."
Ron wasn't convinced but he lifted the lid slowly and peered nervously into the box.
The first thing he noticed was a distinct lack of frills or lace. He heaved a sigh of relief - so far so good. The next thing that caught his attention was the colour – they were a deep midnight blue - not bad. Ron lifted them out of the box and stood holding them in front of him. A wolf whistle from further down the table caused him to sit down again quickly, blushing madly. He looked over at Hermione and Ginny who were grinning knowingly at him.
"You knew," Ron said with a shake of his head and a wry smile.
Hermione laughed, "Oh, Ron, you should have seen your face."
Ginny reached over to take the robes out of his hands. She lifted them up and held them next to Ron's face. "Hermione and I helped choose them. See, Herm,"and she turned to her friend, "I told you this colour would bring out his eyes."
The blush that had been gradually fading developed a whole new intensity and Ron tried to wrestle the robes out of his sister's hands. "Blimey, Gin, stop talking such rot!"
"Aah, is ickle Ronniekins embarrassed about his pretty eyes?" Letting go of the robes, Ginny leant over further and ruffled his hair. Then, glancing over his shoulder, her smile broadened. "I think someone else is admiring your pretty eyes." And she gave a sly wink.
Ron turned quickly to see who she was winking at. And found himself staring into Draco Malfoy's startled eyes. The blond was blushing almost as much as he was. Ron nodded abruptly at him and then turned back to glare at his sister. But she didn't even notice; she was too engrossed in a heated exchange of whispers with Hermione.
Hermione it seemed, had been equally unimpressed by Ginny's recent antics. Well, it was nice to see at least one of Ron's friends sticking up for him, and he turned to frown at a still laughing Harry.
Ron couldn't make out much of the girls' words but he thought he heard something about 'no hints' and 'disqualification'. Barmy, the lot of them.
Ron stood up and announced that he was going to put his new robes away before class. As he walked out, he resisted the urge to see if Draco was still staring at Harry.
Unfortunately, Ron knew that the arrival of the robes would mean an inevitable conversation about the Ball. By making sure he only turned up for Transfiguration a minute before McGonagall, and then pretending he had to fetch his Charms book from his trunk before their next class, he managed to postpone the moment until lunchtime. Tempted as he was to duck out on lunch too, Ron knew that his absence from any meal, would look highly suspicious and was bound to warrant comment. So, reluctantly, he decided that this would probably be the best time to let his friends know that he wouldn't actually be going to the Ball.
"I think you'll look very dashing in your new robes, Ron." Right on cue, Hermione started the conversation rolling as soon as he sat down.
Taking a deep breath, Ron readied himself for what he was pretty sure was not going to be a favourable response to his next words.
"Yeah, well goodness knows when I'll get to wear them." He rushed on, ignoring the looks of confusion being exchanged amongst his friends. "I don't know why mum bought them really. I mean, I only wore the ones the twins gave me once before they got too short. And what are the chances of me needing dress robes once we leave here?" Ron grabbed his goblet of pumpkin juice and gulped down nearly half.
Hermione recovered first. "What do you mean you don't know when you'll wear them? You'll wear them for the Halloween Ball, silly." And she frowned over at him, as if daring him to contradict her.
Okay, here it goes…
"Er, well that's just it - I'm not going to the Ball." Ron smiled weakly.
Hermione had opened her mouth to reply but she never got the chance.
"Yes, you bloody well are!" It was Ginny. She was standing behind Ron, having just walked in.
He turned to face her. "Look, Gin, I-"
She didn't allow him to continue; grabbing hold of the back of his hair, Ginny leant down until their noses were almost touching.
"Now just you listen to me, Ronald Bilius Weasley. This Ball is being given in honour of you surviving a rather nasty little illness, in case you've forgotten. Have you any idea what you put us all through?"
Ron had just started to open his mouth to point out that it hadn't exactly been a picnic for him either, when she carried on.
"We deserve this dance for all the time we spent sitting next to your bed, staring at your ugly, pasty face. So you will stop this 'not going' nonsense, and will turn up on the night in question, looking scrubbed, brushed and happy to be there." She gave a vicious yank to his head, "Is that understood?"
Gulping, he gave a frightened nod, and she finally loosened the death grip on his hair. Ron immediately reached a hand up to massage his abused scalp, checking for a bald patch in the process – blimey, she had a strong grip.
"Good!" Ginny nodded curtly at him, and then moved away to take a seat further down the table.
Ron frowned suspiciously when he saw Seamus clap her on the back and Dean give her the thumbs up.
And that was another thing - just why was everyone so keen for him to go to this ruddy Ball anyway?
Saturday came around much too quickly in Ron's opinion (so just why Ginny, Hermione and Neville - Neville - had spent the last three days insisting that it would never arrive he didn't know).
Ron sat slumped sullenly over his plate of toast. He hadn't entirely given up on being able to get out of going to the Ball, but there was no denying, hope was fading fast.
Twice when Ron had thought she was in a good mood he had tried to reason with Ginny. The first time she had threatened to share certain naked baby pictures with the rest of the school; the second time castration had been mentioned.
It might have been easier had Ron had any allies, but everyone else seemed to feel the same way as Ginny and never tired of telling him that he just had to attend the dance. At last in despair, he thought of feigning illness, but then remembering the concern his last illness had generated, had felt ashamed for even considering it.
He sat up and squared his shoulders. He was just going to have to grin and bear it - Ginny was right it was the least he could do. And he didn't have to stay for long. Ron was sure even she wouldn't be cross if he said he was tired and left early. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad.
Just then, Ron's attention was drawn to the entrance, where Harry had paused in deep conversation with Draco Malfoy; dark head leaned close to blond, as Harry whispered something in the Slytherine's ear. Draco suddenly ducked his head, as a deep blush spread across his face, while Harry looked up and grinned in Ron's direction.
Fuck, Ron thought, just kill me now.
If breakfast had been bad, lunch was excruciating. The subject that Ron had so carefully avoided mentioning in front of Harry, was hauled out almost as soon as they had both sat down.
"So, Harry have you asked anyone to the Ball?"
Ron narrowed his eyes and frowned; there was a very good chance that he was going to have to murder his sister. It was either that, or just cut out the middle man, and move in with Gilderoy Lockhart in St Mungo's.
Thankfully, Draco was nowhere in sight, which helped a little, but Ron's stomach still twisted painfully into a tight knot as he waited for Harry's response. At least he wasn't kept in suspense for long.
"As a matter of fact, Ginny, I've asked -"
Oh Merlin, Ron was going to puke all over his plate.
"- no one. What about you?"
Ron couldn't stop the rush of relieved breath that exploded from his throat, causing a flurry of concern from his friends. Luckily, he managed to turn it into a strangled cough and shrugged it off as a stray crumb going down the wrong way.
"Honestly, Ron, you really ought to try breathing when you eat." Ginny shook her head disgustedly. Then, turning back to Harry, she grinned cheekily as she responded to his earlier question, "You'll just have to wait and see."
Harry laughed, shaking his head.
Ron took a deep breath. Well, that bought him a little time; at least they wouldn't be turning up arm in arm. Perhaps he could duck out before Draco made his move.
He was just starting to feel better than he had for days when another thought hit him - even if he managed to avoid the big announcement, he'd still have to witness the aftermath when he woke up the next day.
He stood up abruptly. "Er, I'm not very hungry, think I might go and lie down for a bit."
Ginny grinned at him, "Good idea, Ron - save your strength for the evening's activities."
He frowned at her, a little concerned by the accompanying sniggers of his friends and the knowing looks that seemed to be being exchanged amongst the group. Ron was really beginning to suspect that he might be missing out on something important.
Later that afternoon, Errol flew to Ron's dorm window.
Well, okay to may not have been the most accurate description - into was probably more fitting.
Luckily for Errol, Ron had been staring out the open window at the time, which probably saved the daft bird's life; quickly reaching out a hand he managed to grab the ancient owl before Errol had finished sliding down the glass. Putting the concussed bird on his bed, Ron untied the letter from his leg. It was from his dad.
Dear Ron
I hope you received your new dress robes. I am a little concerned that you haven't seen fit to let us know, or indeed, thank us – robes aren't cheap, Ron – but I promised your mum I wouldn't mention that, after all you have been very ill and we're all just grateful that you're well again.
Anyway, your mum and I hope you have a nice time this evening at the Ball. I think it was very thoughtful of Professor Dumbledore to hold a dance in honour of your recovery. I hope that you have at least thanked him.
Don't stay up too late – remember you need your rest. And if you go outside – for whatever reason – wrap up warm. Oh, and if you do feel the need for some fresh air, I've heard that just after 10.30pm is a very good time to get the most benefit from, you know, the good things that are, in fact, in air. But don't mention that I said that to anyone – particularly Mr Finnigan or your mum.
Oh, and Christmas will be here before we know it. Harry and Hermione are, as always, welcome to join us at The Burrow. And your mum wants you to invite Draco too. I know he's a Slytherin, but we'll deal with that. He will always be welcome here (I'll have a word with the twins).
Well, Ron, enjoy yourself son.
All my love
Dad
Apparently, the entire world had gone mad. And just why was Ron's mum inviting Draco for Christmas? Was she trying to put him back in the Hospital Wing? Ron paused to think, and then something awful occurred to him. Bloody hell, she knew!
It was the only possible explanation. His mum, knew about Harry and Draco. That had to be it and what was worse - she was obviously fine with it. And what about Ron's dad? Did he know too? Bastards. Every last one of them. Right now Ron hated them all – Harry, Draco, Hermione, his mum – his entire family – the entire freaking school. Everyone in fact who was okay with this.
Because, it had just occurred to Ron, that if they were okay with Harry and Draco, then they would probably have been just as okay with him and Draco.
Ron put his head in his hands and shook it. Fuck. It could have been him - it should have been him.
Something else occurred to Ron a little while later – why wasn't he allowed to tell Seamus about his dad's musings regarding the best time to obtain fresh air? Or his mum? And why was his dad talking about fresh air in the first place?
He wondered for a moment if his dad had been drinking before he wrote the letter? Perhaps the strain of the last few weeks was beginning to take its toll. This made Ron feel suddenly very guilty. He glanced at Errol on the bed; clearly that pathetic bunch of feathers wasn't up to a return journey.
He walked over to his trunk and took out some parchment and his quill. He began to write a reply, starting with an apology for his failure to thank them for his new robes. He'd take it to the owlery when he'd finished and get Pig to deliver it.
It was dark by the time Ron reached the owlery, which probably explained why he failed to notice the figure huddled in the corner, ruffling the feathers of a magnificent Eagle owl that was perched on his knee.
Walking to the centre of the cavernous room Ron squinted up into the rafters. Where was the annoying little squirt?
"Pig!" He waited for the inevitable mad flapping of wings, that usually followed such a summons; he didn't have to wait long.
In spite of having the little lunatic for almost four years, Pig had never grown. This had surprised everyone; they'd all assumed he was a bit of a runt, who would grow in time. But Pig was still the small, excitable ball of feathers, that he had been that first day. And Ron wouldn't have him any other way. Of course, he'd never admit it, but Ron was exceedingly fond of the mad sod, and would be devastated if anything ever happened to him.
He smiled now, as he watched the little bird fly down towards him, tooting madly.
"Come 'ere, you silly brute." Ron grabbed the owl as it flew wildly about his head. Holding it close to his chest, he stroked its feathers affectionately.
"How are you, runt? Miss me?" He held the bird up to his face. Ron hadn't seen him since before he was ill and he'd really missed the little guy. Pig cooed contentedly into his hair. "I missed you too."
Ron held him in front of his eyes, "Tell anyone I said that and you're hippogriff chow!" And he kissed the little owl on the beak.
"Ahem."
Ron spun round at the sound. And found himself face to face with a somewhat awkward looking Draco Malfoy. Ron couldn't speak and felt the rapid advance of a blush that had started somewhere around his knees.
"Er, sorry." Draco found his voice first. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop. I just came to see Hermes." And he cocked his head toward the owl now resting on his arm.
Ron still couldn't trust himself to speak but he did manage a small nod of acknowledgement.
Draco walked towards Ron smiling. "He's a cute little thing, isn't he?" And he nodded towards the small owl that was currently attempting to gnaw Ron's thumb off.
Coming to his senses, Ron realised he would have to say something. "Yeah," he said. "He's not bad – for a mental case." And he smiled affectionately at the small bundle of feathers that was pecking viciously at his skin.
Draco was standing in front of him now and reached out to stroke the little owl behind the ear.
Ron found himself mesmerised by the long, pale fingers – wish he'd stroke me like that…
The blond boy turned to look at him, startling Ron from his thoughts. "You're looking well -" He suddenly broke off and blushed, "I mean - er - you know - since your illness. I mean you seem to have recovered well." He looked away and started to stroke his own owl furiously, earning himself an annoyed nip on the knuckle; clearly Hermes didn't appreciate the rough treatment. Neither boy noticed.
Ron was panicking - what do I say? What do I say? Aargh.
"Thanks." Ron knew his face had to be crimson, but luckily the other boy wasn't looking at him. Merlin, he had to get out of there quick.
"I have to go-"
"Ron, will you-"
They both laughed, embarrassed.
Ron shrugged, looking awkward, "After you," he said politely.
"No, no." Draco shook his head still blushing, "you go first."
Ron rubbed the back of his neck grinning, "Er, well. I should probably go - got to get ready for the Ball and everything."
Draco nodded, "Of course, me too." Then he smiled shyly, "See you there?"
But that look was too much, and Ron could only nod abruptly, before he hurried from the room, wanting to murder his dad for ever putting him there in the first place (he'd worry about the fairness of that thought later).
It wasn't until he reached the common room that Ron realised he still had hold of Pig and the letter lay forgotten in his pocket.
Bugger.
Well, there was no way Ron was going to risk running into Malfoy again; he'd send it from his room window, and he trudged wearily up the stairs.
This was rapidly turning into one of the worst days of Ron's life.
Ginny marched up the stairs to the owlery, a determined tilt to her chin. She was attempting to track down her wayward brother and Parvati had said that she'd seen him heading in this direction. If the big git thought he could hide out here and miss the Ball, he was very sadly mistaken - she'd been practising her Bat Bogey hex especially.
She stepped into the room and frowned. Draco Malfoy was apparently attempting to knock the wall down using only his head. Ginny started to grin; something told her that she may have just missed Ron.
Malfoy was mumbling something.
"Fuck. Stupid, stupid, stupid. What was I thinking? 'See you there?' Aargh!"
Ginny hitched herself up into one of the alcoves that ran around the room and settled back to enjoy the show. Malfoy had started to kick the wall now too. After a few moments, when she wondered idly if Dobby had access to popcorn, she decided to join in the fun.
"Either the grey blandness of that wall has really offended your aesthetic sensibilities, or you have just had an encounter with my brother."
Malfoy turned abruptly at the sound of her voice, a look of abject horror on his face.
Draco bit back a groan, could his day possibly get any worse?
"Well I think that look pretty much says it all," The Weaslette said. "So what did he do then? Or was it what he didn't do?" And to Draco's horror she waggled her eyebrows in a very suggestive manner.
Apparently it could.
"Er, he - I -" Draco's voice trailed off; shaking his head slowly, he looked down at the ground.
Please just let me die now.
Weasley's sister took pity on him. "Don't worry, I'm sure it will all work out in the end. After all," she went on. "They do say anticipation is the strongest aphrodisiac, and just wait 'til you see him in his new dress robes." This time she winked at him.
Oh Merlin, Draco thought, I have to get out of here.
"Er, right, erm," he stuttered out. "I'm going now - that is I'm er - going to go." He nodded at the exit and then strode quickly towards it, half afraid that the redheaded girl would try to stop him. Draco was beginning to think that the entire Weasley clan should come with a health warning - do not attempt to operate heavy machinery, walk in a straight line or think while under the influence.
Ginny grinned at Malfoy's retreating back. She had a sudden wicked thought (and Seamus would never know). "Actually, you know," she said slyly. "Those robes - he looks really rather sexy in them. In fact, if he wasn't my brother…"
She paused to let that last comment sink in. And by the way Malfoy had come to an abrupt halt, she was quite certain that it had.
"They'll be falling all over themselves to get at him," she carried on. "Parvati had a very predatory glint in her eye as she watched him walk by earlier and I could have sworn Justin Finch-Fletchley winked at him at lunch."
There was a definite stiffening of the shoulders at that. Ginny tried not to giggle. This was so easy.
"I just thought you should know," she said. "I'd hate to see you miss out just because you waited too long. My advice would be to get in there early, before the vultures descend."
A slight twitch to the shoulders was the only sign that Malfoy had heard her, but there was definitely a renewed sense of urgency in his step as he hurried off.
Jumping down from her perch, Ginny rushed to the top of the stairs and shouted after the rapidly retreating boy. "I certainly wouldn't leave it much beyond 8pm – probably 8.15 at the latest! Hermione's definitely been eyeing his arse even more than usual!"
Malfoy jumped the remaining five steps and sprinted round the corner.
Sighing happily, Ginny folded her arms across her chest and leant back against the wall.
My work here is done, she thought contentedly.
(It had been remarked upon on more than one occasion, and by more than one person, that there was a good chance that the Sorting Hat may have made a bit of a cock-up when it came to Miss Ginerva Weasley).