A Red Romance

After several hours spent sampling Fred and George's assortment of jokes at Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes, Harry, Hermione, and Ron stood waiting at the front of the shop as Ginny purchased a few items from George, who was currently manning the cash register.

"You'll really get a kick out of those," George said, motioning to a pack of life-like Fire Fingers he'd just placed in Ginny's bag. "Just slip one over a finger, whisper the incantation, and POOF! Your teacher thinks your hand's spontaneously combusted from too much writing!"

"Do you think Professor Binns would fall for something like that?" Ginny asked him. "I could really use a few in History of Magic. I get so bored listening to him drone on about witch trials and goblin laws."

"Ginny, someone will catch on sooner or later," Hermione said from behind. "And won't they burn right through?"

"Not at all," Fred replied as he hastened to restock several shelves emptied by the bustling crowd of customers. "We invented a special material that only burns on the outside."

"It took quite a few second degree burns before we figured out what we were doing wrong," George said quietly, a slight grimace on his face. He looked as if he'd just resolved to forget something horrible before he spoke up again. "But seriously, Hermione, do you think we'd sell our only sister something dodgy?"

Hermione looked skeptically at the twins and decided not to answer. As Ginny grabbed her bag and turned from the counter, her eyes widened and her mouth fell open at the sight of two disheveled red heads who had just entered the shop. Harry, Hermione, and Ron swung around to see what Ginny was gaping at.

"Mum? Dad?" Ron asked perplexedly when he realized who they were. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley walked toward the rest of the group, who were struck speechless by the sight of the pair covered from head to toe in some sort of red goo and feathers. Mrs. Weasley looked enraged.

"What happened?" Harry asked, rushing over to help Mrs. Weasley with her shopping bags.

"Thank you, dear," she said sweetly to Harry. She spotted her gangly, troublemaking twin sons, doubled over in a fit of laughter near the front counter.

"FRED AND GEORGE WEASLEY!" she bellowed furiously. Several patrons nearby were startled and began shuffling quietly out the shop door. Noticing this, she lowered her voice as much as possible before beginning again.

"Why, in the name of Merlin, have you got a bucket of this mess (she motioned at her goo-covered dress) hanging above your front door?" she asked. As she waved her arms frantically, loose feathers drifted lazily to the wooden floor.

Catching his breath, Fred tried to explain. "You're our one hundredth customer! And one hundredth and one, Dad," he added. "Congratulations!"

"We wanted to, um, mark the occasion," George added nervously. "We never expected it to be you!"

"They get this from your side of the family, you know," Mrs. Weasley said to her husband, who, though covered in goo and feathers like his wife, looked more amused than angry.

"Of course, dear," Mr. Weasley replied. "It's really nothing, though. A simple cleaning spell and..."

"That's not the point!" she cut him off. "I knew this joke shop would be more trouble than it's worth. And where did they even get the money to buy this shop?" Harry, standing beside Mrs. Weasley, shook his head and motioned silently for the rest of the group not to answer.

"Scourgify!" Hermione said, pointing her wand at Mrs. Weasley's dress, and hoping to interrupt the flow of conversation. The goo and feathers disappeared. "Scourgify!" she said again, this time pointing at Mr. Weasley's jacket.

"Thank you, Hermione," said Mr. Weasley. "Well, that wasn't so bad," he added hopefully to his wife. She ignored him and stormed over to where Fred and George were standing together. Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny took the opportunity to walk outside, where, to Ron and Ginny's relief, they could no longer hear Mrs. Weasley's admonitions.

"Harry," Ginny began determinedly as they walked out onto the busy sidewalk. "Would you like to have a Butterbeer with me at the candy shop down the alley? I think I need a rest after that."

"Sure, Ginny," Harry replied, smiling conspiratorially. Without another word, the two walked away quickly, whispering to one another and looking back over their shoulders at Ron and Hermione, who looked shocked at their friends' sudden decision.

"Well, uh, fancy a walk?" Ron asked lamely. "I still need to buy a few things for school."

"OK. I need more quills," Hermione said. They began walking in the opposite direction of Harry and Ginny, who they could hear laughing as they entered the candy shop.

Still embarrassed about Ron's comment that he fancied her because she was a "lovely know-it-all" and reminded him of his mother, Hermione wasn't sure how to begin, and an uncomfortably long silence ensued between them. Ron, still trying to remember what happened after he drank that vial of green liquid in the joke shop, was too absorbed in his own thoughts to notice her nervous behavior.

"Ron," she said, unsure of how to phrase her question. "Did you mean what you said, back in the joke shop?"

"What did I say?" Ron repeated, his earlier entreaties for the truth never completely answered.

She chose her answer carefully. What did he mean by saying she reminded him of his mother? Mrs. Weasley was a kind mother, Hermione thought, but she could be a bit, well, unbearable at times.

"WhatdoyoumeanIremindyouofyourmother?" she said all at once, hoping he caught every syllable so she wouldn't have to say it again.

"WHAT?" he blurted. "Bloody hell, I'm going to get Fred and George for this!" He had turned the darkest shade of red Hermione had ever seen, his freckles no longer discernable from the rest of his face. He was muttering something under his breath.

"Hermione," he groaned. "I didn't mean anything by that, I swear!" He looked miserable, and Hermione regretted she'd said anything. It wasn't that bad, she tried to reason with herself.

"I guess I just mean, well, you look out for me, you know? You're always on me about studying, or for being a total git. And it can be reeeally annoying sometimes. You know, like Mum."

Hermione's mouth tightened at this comment. She was trying with great difficulty to stifle a harsh remark. Something beginning with, "Gee, Ron, if you weren't such a clueless, tactless little boy..." would've worked quite nicely. But she understood his point and held a Molly Weasley-like reaction deep inside.

"Is that all I said?" Ron continued, oblivious to her tautened facial features. His tone was apprehensive, she noticed, and tried to calm down.

"Well, no. You said...you fancied me." Her voice was slightly higher pitched than usual.

"Blimey. Well, at least I didn't say you remind me of my grandmother."

"Ron! Really!" Hermione shrieked. This was only getting worse. "Well, did you mean it, then?" she asked, trying to steer the conversation toward something less...strange.

There was no getting around this one, he thought to himself. "Well, the truth is...yeah," he said hastily.

"Oh," Hermione said softly. Forgetting everything else as suddenly as he said he did fancy her, and feeling a bit light-headed at what that finally meant, Hermione stumbled and bumped into Ron's arm. Not knowing quite what to do, and thinking she had moved toward him on purpose, he clumsily clutched her hand and walked on determinedly. Shocked at this show of affection, Hermione couldn't help but smile.

She just hoped no one else noticed how red she had just become.