Git in Shining Armor by juniorauthor
Ron leaned back against the lumpy couch that called the Weasley’s den its home. As he fiddled with one of the several loose threads in the sofa’s dated apolstry, an exasperated sigh escaped his lips. “Come on Hermione! If that things gets any longer, there won’t be an owl brave enough in this house to deliver it…” he whined, tugging at the painfully long letter that was currently occupying his friend’s attention.
Hermione looked up from the parchment with a scowl, pulling it back towards her. “Then we’ll just have to visit the post office in Hogsmeade this afternoon, won’t we?” she hissed before returning to her letter.
“Afternoon? At this rate, it’ll be sundown before you’ve finished. At least take a break, ‘Mione. It’s nearly noon, and that means its nearly time for lunch,” when the prospect of food didn’t seem to sway Hermione’s mind and the sound of quill on paper continued, Ron carried on his rant. “Isn’t your hand aching? Cramped from the monotonous motion of swirling the quill on that parchment for hours on end?” A smirk spread over his freckled face as Hermione lifted her head once more, this time scowl-free. “Aha! I knew it! Time for a break then…” he said with cheerful resolute, reaching towards the lengthy scroll.
Hermione clutched the parchment before her. “Don’t even think about it, Ron.” she huffed.
“Well, if your hand wasn’t dead, then why did you stop?”
“Because, ” she said simply, “I was surprised you knew the word monotonous. That’s all.” With a cocky smirk, Hermione returned to her letter, leaving Ron to pout on the couch rather moodily.
Who was the letter to, anyway? If it was to Harry, he’d understand the length. He himself had written Harry a letter longer than any paper he had written at school just last week, explaining why he, too, couldn’t come to the Burrow yet. The letter had been filled with sympathy and promises”two and a half feet of them. And he had been rather proud of himself, too. That is, until he had brought the matter up at supper a day or so after the letter had been sent. He was promptly told off for sending such information so carelessly; when asked what sort of concealment charms he had placed on the seal, his response was ‘Concealment charms…?’ Apparently, it was not wise to state ‘Order Affairs’ in an unprotected letter…
But if the letter was to Harry, why didn’t Hermione just say so…? “Hermione!” he whined once more.
The words “Just a few more minutes…” spilled out of a mouth hidden somewhere under a mass of bushy brown hair, and Ron turned to pulling at the threads of the sofa again.
A face appeared in the doorway, laden with freckles and ginger hair. Out of the corner of his eye, Ron couldn’t tell this Weasley child apart from any other, since they all shared the same general traits. He raised his blue eyes from the coiling thread and stared into that of his sister’s. “Hullo, Ginny…” he greeted thickly.
Ginny cocked an eyebrow. “What’s the matter, Ron?”
Ron nodded his chin towards the sound of a bustling quill and rolled his eyes, causing Ginny to smirk. “Hermione, ”she said with expert innocence, “Lunch is ready and the table’s set! Come and eat.”
Hermione looked up at the ginger haired girl and smiled. “Great, I’m starving.”
Ron’s eyes grew wide so that they resembled Luna Lovegood’s, protrubent and white all the way around. “Wha…? But-but I…” he stuttered as Hermione tucked the letter in her robe pocket and set the quill gently on the desk. He watched blankly as she followed Ginny’s pointing finger out to the kitchen. Flabbergasted, Ron turned to his sister. “How come she listened to you?”
Ginny smiled and cocked her head to one side. “Because she likes me best!” she said with a smirk, dodging into the kitchen before Ron had a chance to grab her.
“Oh dear, ” Mrs.Weasley tutted, “Your father’s late again…” she sighed and took her seat at the far side of the dinner table, staring solemnly at the Weasley’s Grandfather clock. The hand that portrayed Mr.Weasley’s smiling face was still pointed at work, as did Percy’s, Bill’s, and Charlie’s. Five other hands portraying a Weasley pointed towards home, along with one new face. Following the occurrences at Kings Cross a few weeks ago, Mrs.Weasley had taken it upon herself to add Harry and Hermione to the clock as well; an addition that had caused Hermione to beam. At that moment, Ron thought, her smile seemed contagious, because every Weasley in the room had followed suit. It was too bad that he was forbidden to share this information with Harry until could see it himself; Ron was positive that Harry would be more or less ecstatic if he knew.
“You can’t really blame him, mum.” George said, scooping some mashed potatoes onto his plate from a chipped ceramic bowl.
“Yeah. Now that everybody’s stopped being arrogant prats and have understood You-Know-Who’s back and worse than ever…” Fred continued, chewing on a chicken leg.
“All the nutters take out their anxiety on the muggles!” George finished, passing the bowl to Ginny.
Fred leaned to his left to talk to Hermione. “Last Monday he had to run off to Kilcarney. The Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office got a message about a rogue bag-pipe….”
“Rogue bag-pipe…?” she asked, eyes wide, picking up her water glass.
Ron snorted, “Yeah. That’s what we said, too. It turns out that whenever someone tried to play the bugger, the mouthpiece would bite him or her on the nose while the rest of the pipes would…erm… Would find other places to chew…” he finished, throwing his hands up to shield his face from the water that spewed form Hermione’s mouth.
As Hermione’s face grew pink with embarrassment the Weasley children howled with laughter. Even Ron chuckled, despite the luke-warm water dripping down his face and onto his robes. He shook his head wildly, spraying water across the table in little droplets.
“And that’s what mum said!” the twins chuckled in unison.
“I’m so sorry, Ron!” Hermione said, picking up the napkin on her lap and dabbing at his chin.
Ron’s laughter paused for a second as the rough cloth touched his face. He smiled and playfully pushed her hand away, blushing ever so slightly. “It's alright, Hermione! It's okay…” assured Ron, picking up his own napkin.
“Aw, Ronnie! Why not let Hermione wipe your face?” Fred squawked through his fit laughter.
“Oh, don’t let our presence ruin your fun, Ron!” George chimed in dubiously.
Ginny swallowed her giggles, confused. “Huh? What do you mean?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” The twins said simultaneously..
Ron rubbed his face quite vigorously with the napkin to hide the blush rising on his freckled cheeks.
“Obvious?” Ginny question, chewing her lip. “Oh! You mean--”
“That’s enough!” Mrs.Weasley shouted over the ruckus, face red. “Fred, George! That is quite enough!” Fred and George quieted immediately, but the grins on their faces had not vanished under their mother’s harsh gaze.
Hermione, still pink, was mopping the tabletop. “Sorry, Mrs.Weasley.”
“Oh, I don’t blame you, dear. ” she cooed, turning to Hermione. Mrs.Weasley pulled her wand from her apron pocket. “Let me get that, Hermione…” With a flick of her wand and an uttered “Scourgify!” the water pooling on the battered wooden table vanished.
Patting his sodden head, Ron looked to his mother. “How about a little help over here, mum?”
Mrs.Weasley smiled at her youngest son and rapped her wand briskly on his head. His ginger hair instantly dried and stood unnaturally on-end.
“Much better!” Hermione laughed, patting down his hair, thus causing Ron to blush again.
The twins burst into laughter once more. This time, a piercing stare from their mum didn’t hush them up; it was the woosh and pop of their father exiting the fireplace that silenced their whoops and hollers.
“Hullo, Weasleys…and Hermione, of course…” he greeted with a sigh, collapsing into the battered chair next to the fireplace. Sweat was beading on his unusually pale face and the smile that curled on his lips was thin and rather forced.
Mrs.Weasley turned on her heel, her face softening into a loving smile. She swept towards her husband and bent to kiss his forehead. “How was work, honey?”
“Anymore biting musical instruments?” George asked fervently.
“No. No…” he answered, shaking his head. “Sorry I’m late, Molly dear. It’s just…”
“Hush.” Mrs.Weasley replied. “You look peaky dear. Take a drink of water…relax, dear. Have some supper, alright?”
Mr.Weasley smiled gratefully at his wife as Fred made gagging sounds. “Thank you, I think I will…” he sighed. Standing on shaky knees he made his way over to the largest chair at the head of the table, twelve eyes staring at him wearily, where he sipped from his cup and swallowed the cool water down in one swig. Smiling a little brighter now, Mr.Weasley sat up straight and looked at each child in turn. Mrs.Weasley began to pile potatoes onto his plate, and the silence in the room grew thick and uncomfortable.
“Alright dad?” Ron asked, eyeing his father.
“Yes. Fine…” Mr.Weasley nodded. “So. How was…How was your day? Anything interesting happen? Hmm?”
Fred and George exchanged glances, and Mrs.Weasley sat down in her chair rather moodily. “Well, you’ll be happy to know your sons have…erm, created a new product. Isn’t that right, dears?” she said, shooting them an evil glare.
“Oh, really? How’d it go, then?” Mr.Weasley questioned, chewing his chicken with gusto, painfully unaware of his wife’s tone.
“Not very well…” Fred said, pushing his potatoes around his plate with his fork.
George cleared his throat. “We haven’t really worked out all the bugs yet…”
“You see, the knickers were only supposed to light up so that they shown through your pants”“
“They weren’t suppose to catch fire…”
Mr.Weasley’s eyes grew wide. “Oh. Oh dear…and, uh… What do you two have to say to yourselves, boys?”
The twins turned solemn faces towards their brother. “Sorry Ron…”
Ginny fell into a fit of giggles as Ron’s face turned a deep shade of pink. Mr.Weasley hacked cough that sounded all too much like he was trying to hide a fit of laughter.
Ron shot his father a reproachful look, having caught his chortle. “Oh, really? We’ll see if your still laughing when the twins catch your--”
“Ronald Weasley!”
“--on fire, then!” he finished haughtily, ignoring his mother’s protest. While the twins were giggling to themselves, his father was certainly not laughing at all anymore.
Ron heaved a sigh and sat back down in his chair. Any other time the twins would have caught his knickers on fire Ron would have laughed along with the rest of his family. But seeing as he currently had a guest in the Burrow… Ron cast an apologetic look towards Hermione, who merely smiled and shook her head as if to say “Nevermind…”
Mr.Weasley cleared his throat and, in a determinedly steady voice, asked. “Well? Has anybody else done something of interest? That doesn’t involve setting human body parts on fire?”
“Hermione is writing a book!” Fred piped up.
Mr.Weasley, surprised, looked towards Hermione. “Really? Splendid! What about, Hermione?”
Ron snickered and looked to his friend. “Yes. What about, Hermione?”
Hermione looked rather confused. “Story? I’m not writing a story…am I?” she asked, looking at Fred.
“Well, if that thing you’ve been slaving over isn’t a story, ” he inquired, “Then what the bloody hell is it?”
“I’m not sure what you mean…” she replied.
George put down his fork and turned his gaze to Hermione as well. “That three foot parchment you’ve been working on since this morning, Hermione!”
Ron smiled devilishly to himself; they must be talking about the letter. “Oh! Hermione, I think they mean that letter you were writing before lunch. I agree, it does look like the makings of a novel…”
Hermione’s face dawned comprehension. “Oh! You mean my letter. No, it’s only a letter to a friend. Sorry…” she said lamely, clearly unwilling to talk about it.
“Oh, come on Hermione! Who to?” Fred asked through a mouthful of chicken, much to his mother’s dismay.
Ron smiled and raised his eyebrows, fixing his gaze on Hermione. She gave him a look that might have been despair or humiliation”he wasn’t good at figuring out emotions and what not. Now George had joined in the fray and he too was badgering Hermione about the letter. As a blush rose in Hermione’s cheeks Ginny spoke up for her friend.
“Shove off, guys. It’s Hermione’s letter and if she doesn’t want to tell us whom she’s writing to, that’s her decision.” the saucy redhead declared, crossing her arms and shooting daggers at the twins. As much as he wanted the secrets of the letter revealed, Ron had to agree with Ginny. He too stared at the twins until they receded under the steely gaze, however reluctantly.
For a while supper continued in silence, the clink of cutlery on plates and the steady dripping sound of the kitchen sink seemed to echo in the nearly silent room. When every person had emptied their plate and was lounging in their chairs, Mrs.Weasley stood and cleared the table with a flick of her wand. Ron ducked as the large ceramic bowl flew above his head and landed lightly on the counter.
“Wonderful, Molly.” Mr.Weasley said, patting his stomach. “Just what an old man needed after a hard day’s work…”
Ginny smiled sympathetically, “Was it really that bad, dad?”
“I suppose it would be hard, wouldn’t it? After all, the ministry has yet to find another Minister…it must be a mad house down there…” said Hermione in a tone that suggested she was thinking out loud.
“Oh, it is still a madhouse…” Ron’s father asserted, “But its mainly because we have found a new Minister.”
“Really, Arthur?” Mrs.Weasley said excitedly. “Who?
“Well, now…you have to understand that the position is underrated in some ways and overrated in most…” Mr.Weasley stuttered.
“What does that have to do with anything?” Ron asked.
Hermione sighed. “It means that the job position was hard to fill. After how badly Fudge messed up, not many people are willing to take that chance.”
“Oh…”
“Right you are, Hermione. But”there are a few nutters willing to risk their reputation.” Arthur continued.
“Nutters? You don’t mean Dumbeldore’s the new Minister?” Ginny gasped, eyes wide.
Mrs.Weasley clucked he tongue, lifting a chocolate cake out of the oven. “No, no dear. Dumbeldore’s much to busy with other things to become Minister…Go on, Arthur.” she said, swirling her wand above the cake as icing spilled from the tip.
Ron’s father went on about the qualities needed to become Minister, the paper work one would have to fill out, and about the spotless record that was required. He heard none of this, however, as he was too preoccupied with the cake his mother was tending to. The scent of chocolate wafted from the kitchen and into his nostrils, awakening his hunger. It was several minutes before he felt Hermione kick him in the leg from under the table. “What was that for?” he hissed.
“Your drooling…” she replied, smiling knowingly and pointing at his chin.
Ron blushed and wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his mud colored robes, watching as his mother levitated the cake over to the table.
“…an astoundingly clean record. Even if you have a simple ‘secrecy code’ violation of your post owl gone astray and getting hit by a car driven by muggles, your plum out of luck to become Minister.” Mr.Weasley finished.
“Yes, yes. We know, dad. Stop beating around the bush and tell us who the new Minister is!” George whined.
“Come now, Arthur. Don’t leave us in suspense. The sooner you stop delaying the news the sooner we’ll have cake.” Mrs.Weasley called, hovering the cake about a foot above the dinner table.
Mr.Weasley grimaced and took a deep breath. “It’s Percy.”
Awkward silence filled the room, only interrupted by the odd noise Mrs.Weasley’s chocolate cake made as it fell to its doom upon the dining room table.
Percy? As…Minister of Magic? That wasn’t possible…was it? Surely not. His father had to be kidding…he had to be… Ron fidgeted in his chair uncomfortably. Two awkward silences in one dinner; that had to be a Weasley family record. He caught Hermione’s eye and they shared looks of mingled surprise and anticipation.
“But…That can’t be right.” Hermione insisted as Mr.Weasley stood to help his stunned wife into her chair. A battle of unreadable emotions was playing out on her face and tears had started swelling in her eyes. “I mean…he’s only…he’s not even…”
“I know. That’s exactly what I said when I found out,” Mr.Weasley sighed, his face turning pale again. “But, like I said. It’s a very high profile job…and Percy was the only one who fit the criteria willing to accept office…Molly dear, please say something.”
Ron turned to his mother, who seemed pale and sat unsettlingly still”almost as if she had been petrified. Slowly, the woman stood to her feet. Ron watched as his mum marched out of the kitchen and towards the stairs, stiff as a soldier, her husband close behind.
“Oh well!” George sighed, lifting himself up from his chair and stretching.
“Oh well? What do you mean, ‘oh well’?” Ron hissed, scowling at his brother.
“He means ‘oh well!’” Fred asserted, getting to his feet as well.
“But how can you say that? Our brother is Minister of Magic! And all you have to say is--”
“OH WELL!” the twins chimed together.
Ginny shook her head. “You two have lost it. Really, you have.”
Fred smiled. “Ginny dear, tell me; have we ever really had it?” he inquired, doing a little jig to mock his sister further.
“What the bloody hell are you doing?” Ron hissed, repulsed.
“Providing a distraction so that I can do this!” George howled, pointing his wand at Hermione. “Accio letter!”
Ron watched wide-eyed as the thick scroll flew from Hermione’s pocket into George’s outstretched hand. Hermione yelped, surprised for a moment, and lunged towards George. “Give that back! That’s not yours, hand it over!” she pleaded.
“C’mon guys. That was a dirty trick, hand over the letter.” Ron demanded.
“Oh, come on little Ronnie. We know you want to know who its to as well!” Fred pronounced, winking at his little brother.
“Let’s see here…”George muttered, making quite a big deal about unrolling the parchment. “Dear…oh dear…” His eyes grew wide, and he turned to Hermione. Fred, who had read the title over his shoulder, did the same.
“What?” Ron squeaked.
“Exactly.” Hermione said, barely above a whisper. A blush had risen in her cheeks as she stomped over to George and snatched the parchment out of his hands. Rolling it up tightly, she replaced it in her robe pocket, glaring at the twins.
Ron crossed his arms, looking from Hermione to the twins and back again. “What? What’s with all the unfinished sentences?”
Fred stretched and yawned in a very animated way. “Well, I’m beat. What say you to sleep, George?”
“I say…” he too yawned, and within seconds the twins had disappeared with a rather loud bang, leaving two freckled redheads and a blushing brunette in the kitchen.
Ginny smiled kindly at Hermione. She strode over to her friend and linked arms. “Hermione, dear. What say you to sleep?”
Hermione grinned appreciatively. “I’d say it sounds delightful.” She allowed Ginny to pull her out of the kitchen, leaving Ron alone in the kitchen, dumbfounded and feeling slightly put out.