Author’s Notes: This ficlet was written for the Persuasion challenge on the forums, so you might also have seen it there. It’s pretty short and to the point, though the events that have led up to where the characters are now are up to your assumptions. Enjoy, and tell me what you think!
Angling
----------------------------
“And that’s really all there is to it,” Hermione murmured, not quite sure why she was nearly whispering. “Harry said he knows the rules, so if you’ve any questions at all…”
Ginny shrugged noncommittally, not looking up from the stern-backed wooden chair that Ron had excavated from the cluttered attic. “I’ll manage,” she said evenly, shuffling her cards back and forth.
From her elevated position over the two would-be card sharks, Hermione noted with some dismay how awkward the situation really was. Ginny chewed idly on one of the split ends of her “hopelessly overgrown locks” (as Mrs. Weasley had dubbed them), while Harry tried not to look at her, digging his toe into a small hole on the worn carpet and straining – however subtly – to hear the final rundown of a Quidditch match on the wireless.
The former Head Girl sighed. “You two play a quick game, then, while I go see what’s keeping Ron.”
She walked off quickly to the kitchen, not sparing a glance at the repaired clock that pronounced them all to be So Close to Doom That It’s Not Even Funny, and tugged Ron (who was eavesdropping shamelessly), into the corner by the precariously piled pots and pans.
When she was sure that they were out of auditory range, Hermione pointed her finger threateningly at the orange-haired eighteen year old, but he headed her off, raising his hands defensively.
“You can’t go throwing me around, Hermione – you’ll disturb the wards Tonks reset last week.”
She ignored him. “This was the stupidest idea I’ve ever heard of, Ron; and I’m just as thick for having gone along with it. A ‘rousing game of cards’ with two people?”
Only halfway sure that he was out of immediate danger, Ron leaned unconcernedly back against the counter. “These days I’d be glad to see Ginny at a round of anything. Even – well, you know...that kind of thing…” He gesticulated vaguely with both hands. “She always seemed to like it well enough with any old bloke in Hogwarts.” Hermione made a noise of disgust, and he rushed on.
“I’ve tried telling her it might help to…to loosen up again, but –”
Hermione laughed sharply, now unmindful of whether Ginny or Harry heard her. “I can just imagine how that went! ‘Oho, Ginny! Hooking up’s ace for depression!’ You know, you’re actually disgusting sometimes, Ron.”
He frowned furiously, but the brown-haired girl crossed her arms. “I’m not trying to say that you don’t care about her in your own frightfully misguided way, but I am saying that you can’t force this on her!”
“I’m not forcing anything! I’m getting her to stop mooning over a dead man.”
The dishcloth that Hermione had magicked to do the washing up sank fearfully into the murky, lukewarm water of the sink, and though she was angry, Hermione’s tone softened.
“We don’t know that he’s dead,” she chided gently. “It’s not yet been a year – even we were gone for longer, and no one broke out the obituaries.”
“I got used to seeing his pointy, pasty face well enough that I know it’s been ten months, three weeks, five days…”
“Ron…”
“…Twelve hours. Don’t think that I’m pining for him – she marks off the time on some awful stationary and keeps it with her under-things where she doesn’t think anyone will find it!”
Hermione’s eyes narrowed. “And no one should have.”
Ron’s ears went red, but his eyes were defiant. “Well I for one don’t see what your problem is. I mean, just look at them – they’re getting on swimmingly!”
The troubled pair peered semi-inconspicuously out of the doorway into the living room.
Ginny was staring listlessly at the lifeless Muggle cards Hermione had put into her hands. What had this one been called again? Ah, yes – Jack.
“Got any Dracos, Harry?” she asked artlessly.
The green-eyed boy stared at the girl across from him for a long moment; the agonized moans of defeat from the wireless droned on somewhere in the background.
“No,” he said softly, after collecting himself. “Go fish.”
------------------------------
Please review!
Angling
----------------------------
“And that’s really all there is to it,” Hermione murmured, not quite sure why she was nearly whispering. “Harry said he knows the rules, so if you’ve any questions at all…”
Ginny shrugged noncommittally, not looking up from the stern-backed wooden chair that Ron had excavated from the cluttered attic. “I’ll manage,” she said evenly, shuffling her cards back and forth.
From her elevated position over the two would-be card sharks, Hermione noted with some dismay how awkward the situation really was. Ginny chewed idly on one of the split ends of her “hopelessly overgrown locks” (as Mrs. Weasley had dubbed them), while Harry tried not to look at her, digging his toe into a small hole on the worn carpet and straining – however subtly – to hear the final rundown of a Quidditch match on the wireless.
The former Head Girl sighed. “You two play a quick game, then, while I go see what’s keeping Ron.”
She walked off quickly to the kitchen, not sparing a glance at the repaired clock that pronounced them all to be So Close to Doom That It’s Not Even Funny, and tugged Ron (who was eavesdropping shamelessly), into the corner by the precariously piled pots and pans.
When she was sure that they were out of auditory range, Hermione pointed her finger threateningly at the orange-haired eighteen year old, but he headed her off, raising his hands defensively.
“You can’t go throwing me around, Hermione – you’ll disturb the wards Tonks reset last week.”
She ignored him. “This was the stupidest idea I’ve ever heard of, Ron; and I’m just as thick for having gone along with it. A ‘rousing game of cards’ with two people?”
Only halfway sure that he was out of immediate danger, Ron leaned unconcernedly back against the counter. “These days I’d be glad to see Ginny at a round of anything. Even – well, you know...that kind of thing…” He gesticulated vaguely with both hands. “She always seemed to like it well enough with any old bloke in Hogwarts.” Hermione made a noise of disgust, and he rushed on.
“I’ve tried telling her it might help to…to loosen up again, but –”
Hermione laughed sharply, now unmindful of whether Ginny or Harry heard her. “I can just imagine how that went! ‘Oho, Ginny! Hooking up’s ace for depression!’ You know, you’re actually disgusting sometimes, Ron.”
He frowned furiously, but the brown-haired girl crossed her arms. “I’m not trying to say that you don’t care about her in your own frightfully misguided way, but I am saying that you can’t force this on her!”
“I’m not forcing anything! I’m getting her to stop mooning over a dead man.”
The dishcloth that Hermione had magicked to do the washing up sank fearfully into the murky, lukewarm water of the sink, and though she was angry, Hermione’s tone softened.
“We don’t know that he’s dead,” she chided gently. “It’s not yet been a year – even we were gone for longer, and no one broke out the obituaries.”
“I got used to seeing his pointy, pasty face well enough that I know it’s been ten months, three weeks, five days…”
“Ron…”
“…Twelve hours. Don’t think that I’m pining for him – she marks off the time on some awful stationary and keeps it with her under-things where she doesn’t think anyone will find it!”
Hermione’s eyes narrowed. “And no one should have.”
Ron’s ears went red, but his eyes were defiant. “Well I for one don’t see what your problem is. I mean, just look at them – they’re getting on swimmingly!”
The troubled pair peered semi-inconspicuously out of the doorway into the living room.
Ginny was staring listlessly at the lifeless Muggle cards Hermione had put into her hands. What had this one been called again? Ah, yes – Jack.
“Got any Dracos, Harry?” she asked artlessly.
The green-eyed boy stared at the girl across from him for a long moment; the agonized moans of defeat from the wireless droned on somewhere in the background.
“No,” he said softly, after collecting himself. “Go fish.”
------------------------------
Please review!
The End.
spider is the author of 2 other stories.
This story is a favorite of 4 members. Members who liked Angling also liked 234 other stories.
This story is a favorite of 4 members. Members who liked Angling also liked 234 other stories.
Leave a Review