Chatting

+++

Chatting

+++

Act II: Angelina and Ron

The night was warm; warm enough to keep even the most fastidious person content. The winds were few, and the music of the night time air was soft and euphonious. People walked around in the usual groups, some pairs eventually bidding larger crowds goodbye to find a more private and quixotic place to converse. People were smiling constantly, the occasional laugh drifting though the air.

However, there was one face that wouldn't crack its compassionless appearance.

Ron Weasley was usually a cheery sort of fellow. He had learned throughout his life that optimism kept a person afloat, and that it was up to people to keep optimism alive. He had been taught that when impoverished, the only thing you could really do besides work as hard as physically possible for money was keep up hope that things would soon turn around, and get much better.

So why, when Ron needed to be most optimistic, did he falter?

Ron was basically at a loss for ideas on his situation. He had also been taught that honesty was the first thing to look for in a friend. And knowing what he did about Viktor Krum, Ron HONESTLY despised him. Maybe it was the way he spoke, maybe it was the way he goggled over Hermione... in the end, something just didn't fit. Why would Viktor Krum, world-renown and highly worshipped Quidditch seeker even begin to have a remote interest of any sort in Hermione Granger of all people?

It wasn't that Hermione wasn't a great friend. In fact, that idea was far from his thoughts on the situation. Hermione was the most caring, empathetic, accomplished, and audacious girl...no, woman, he had been fortunate to have as a friend. She was willing to take a hit for those who couldn't defend themselves, and just as willing to stand by her morals, even when her case seemed hopeless.

But there were SO many things that men seemed to find unattractive about her. Ron took her hair as example. It was so wildly untamed, and so very...brown. Not that Ron had anything against brown or anything. Truth be told, he would prefer it to his own burnished red locks.

"But it smells like wildflowers..." Ron reminded himself, recalling the ever-enchanting scent that had tickled his nose on many various occasions. "Like a field full of rich, fragrant wildflowers on a warm summer's night..."

A subconscious and oddly feminine voice popped into his head.

Careful what you think, love, or something might take to wondering if you fancy Hermione.

Ron stumbled over himself, wondering secretly if he was going insane. "Who's that there? Who said that?" Ron put up his fists, in a defensive manner. His heart thumped mercilessly against his chest. "I warn you, I'm very strong!"

The voice laughed jubilantly, almost mocking every thought that passed through his mind. In turn, Ron began to turn a terribly dark shade of magenta, making many passerbyers fearful for his health. A Ravenclaw even stopped by his location and asked if he was quote unquote 'alright'. Blushing even harder (if such a state of embarrassment existed), Ron said 'no' and 'mind your own business'. The Ravenclaw had walked away, somewhat stunned by the reaction, quickly joining a group and telling them what had happened.

You frightened that poor girl off, you fool. Better not do that to dear ol' Mione, now shall you?

"What are you saying? I've never done anything like that Mione... I mean, Hermione! She knows that I would never do such a thing!" Ron practically bellowed the last line, attracting the attention of a rather attractive seventh year, who just happened to be passing by. She gave him a sympathetic look, as one might give a non-violent mental patient, and then hurried on her way.

Shrinking like a weed to the ground, Ron clutched his knees in his arm, rocking slightly back and forth. His anger subsided slowly, and his carefully let-out breaths helped his heart rate go down. "Today," he reckoned to himself. "It is not the right day to let the world know you have a problem with hypertension."

You probably don't want Hermione to know about that, either, love...

"Would you just STOP calling me love?" Ron groaned, laying his back against the sturdy bark of the tree. "If you're my subconscious or something, you know that 'love' is my least favorite choice of nickname."

You know, you would hate it so if HERMIONE called you that...

Ron, fatally, considered this.

HA! I knew it! I knew that her calling you 'love' wouldn't feel like such a half-bad thing! It didn't, did it young Ronald?

"The name's Ron," Ron practically growled, clawing at the air around him as if it were hexed. "Ron Weasley, to be more precise."

"Ron? I never knew such a name existed..." another female voice called from outside his clearing. "I actually thought the name was 'Ickle Ronniekins..."

"You're just the biggest tease, Angelina," Ron replied sarcastically as the feisty chaser appeared before him. However, instead of her usual Hogwarts robes, she was wearing a rather oversized Weasley sweater, and a pair of faded muggle pants that looked as though she had pulled them out of the trashcan.

"To what person do I owe the pleasure of your company?" Ron asked, folding his arms over his chest and standing up to greet Angelina with a quirky grin. "I hope it's not my DEAR older brother again."

"Well... in part. But partially, because I just happened to be walking around this grand evening, and just happened to see a rather dashing young man sulking at the base of a tree, speaking to himself about a certain witch, who I happen to know that he fancies."

"Yeah, well, two for three isn't bad. Yes, I was sulking at the bottom of a tree, and yes, I am a dashingly handsome young man." Ron struck a pose as they would in muggle fashion magazines, jutting his hip out to the side, and sticking out his lower lip. "I'd give any muggle model a run for their money."

"You're such a Weasley," Angelina giggled, putting on of her hands on the nearby tree. "So arrogant and asinine."

Ron blushed a shade that Angelina had only seen on cherries. "I'm not vain! In fact, I am quite the opposite of what my brothers may have told you!"

Angelina chuckled, putting her arm around her younger friend's shoulder. "Then that would justify my statement. From what Fred and George have told me, you are the most modest and least egotistical person in the family. Also the least self-assured, of course, but least egotistical nevertheless."

"And I suppose you believe EVERYTHING that my brothers say?" Ron grinned with a snigger.

"Of course I don't," Angelina replied smoothly, glancing at her nails. "The only people who do that are the ones wearing 'kick me' signs on their backs, and 'Salazar for President' patches on their robes." Angelina grinned wickedly. "That does include Pansy, you know."

Ron couldn't help but chortle loudly. "Yes, I know. Well, at least it got her over her little obsession with Malfoy. But honestly, did she have to go after my two twin brothers? There are so many other stupid and pathetic..." Ron stopped when he saw Angelina's arms fold over her chest. "...I, um, mean devilishly charming men to pursue at this wonderful institution of higher learning of ours."

"Much better choice of words, Ickle Ronniekins. I see that your brothers have taught you the very gentlemanly way of correcting yourself in front of a lady."

"Not really. I just happen to pick things up quite well from previous situations."

Angelina raised an eyebrow. "Situations involving... ladies?"

Ron shrugged, his black robes brushing his earlobes. "You could almost say that. Close enough, anyways."

"Ladies named... Hermione?"

Ron stopped pacing. Face reddening, he looked at Angelina directly in the eye. "Why must people I like always bring her up? I mean, it's not as if she's my girlfriend or anything!"

'Not yet, anyways,' Ron added to himself.

"When it comes down to everything Ron, you know that you fancy her."

"I do not!"

"You do too!"

"I do not!"

"You do too!"

"I DO NOT!"

The expression on Ron's face was Angelina's undoing. Putting her hand firmly against the tree, she began to laugh hysterically. Ron candidly stood there, and stared.

"What did I say?"

This only caused Angelina to laugh harder.

"Honestly, Ron! Your brothers were right when they called you clueless. I mean, you don't even know that you're in love with Hermione! You still act like a cute little boy who throws things at the girl he likes!"

Ron was fuming at the moment. "I have never thrown anything at Hermione! Never! NEVER!"

As soon as the words had left his mouth, Ron regretted ever saying them.

"Ha! I knew that you fancied her! The way you look at her... the way you tease her mirthlessly, the way you look at her every night... that cute invitation to the Yule ball last year! And that little sonnet that George and Fred showed me...it's so obvious, Ron!"

"What on earth are you talking about?"

"You are aware that you brothers are in possession of an on-tape confession to Hermione about your feelings, aren't you?"

The color drained from Ron's face, matching the now full moon more than the cherries that it had matched earlier.

"I... never said anything like that."

"Not consciously, of course... I do believe they taped it when you were asleep."

Ron was now frighteningly white. Small, suspicious sounds were now being admitted from his lips. His hands were trembling with a mixture of rage and excitement. In truth, Angelina had never seen such a humorous sight.

"Well, you do know what the solution is, don't you?"

"Not... hey!" Ron began to protest, but Angelina put a finger to his lips to stop him. She smiled innocently.

"You should probably tell Hermione how you feel before someone else does... like Fred and George for example..."

But Angelina never did get to finish her comment, because Ron was already racing towards the castle grounds to stop the inevitable from happening.

For the second time, Angelina smiled contently. She could only hope that Fred had had as much luck convincing Hermione of the obvious.