Dancing

Ron wanted to dance with her more than anything in the world.

"You look angry," Ginny said when she stepped off the dance floor. Her hair was coming undone from its slick ponytail, and there was makeup smudged around her eyes, but her cheeks were pink with exhilaration. "What's wrong?"

Ron lifted one shoulder and let it fall.

Ginny took the seat next to him. "Something's wrong." She tipped her head back and tightened her ponytail. Strands of red hair fell around her face in frizzy wisps. "Where's Padma?"

"Dancing with a Durmstrang bloke." He pointed vaguely at the throng of bodies.

"Why?" Ginny leaned over and began to fiddle with the strap on one of her silver shoes. "I thought she came here with you."

"She did. But then she asked if I was going to dance with her, and I told her probably not, so she left."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Ronald." She tugged off her right shoe and then got to work undoing the strap on the left one. "There's this thing called tact."

"Go away, Ginny."

"I'm just sitting here while Neville waits in the beverage line." Both shoes were off; Ginny kicked them under her chair and began to massage her own feet. "You're lucky you aren't a girl," she said. "Heels are a terrible thing."

Ron grunted. "When's the Yule Ball end?" he asked.

"Midnight."

He groaned.

"Leave whenever you want," Ginny snapped. "Nobody's forcing you to stay until it's over."

"Harry," Ron said shortly.

"Harry's a big boy," Ginny said. "If you're so miserable here, why don't you just go?"

Ron shot a glare at his sister. "Where the hell's Neville with your punch?"

Ginny craned her neck. "He's nearly at the front of the line. Would you please tell me what's wrong with you tonight?"

"Nothing."

"Something is."

She was looking at him, he could feel her eyes burning holes in the side of his face, but he kept his gaze straight ahead, watching the crowd of sweaty bodies convulsing against each other, trying desperately to focus on any couple besides them.

"Ronald."

He snapped his head around. "What the hell do you want, Ginny?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Do you want to dance?" she asked suddenly.

He raised his eyebrows. "I think that'd be weird, actually, but thanks."

"Not with me," she said, and she was wearing her I mean business expression. "With - someone else." She waved her hand at the dance floor. "With someone over there."

He knew his face was red. "I don't want to dance, no."

Ginny reached up to pull her hair down. It fell around her face in red waves, which she quickly slicked back with her hands and gathered into a new, cleaner ponytail. "Liar."

"Shove off."

"If you didn't want to dance, you wouldn't still be here." She had her arms folded across her chest, an annoying habit she'd picked up from Mum.

"Harry," Ron said, pointing at the crowd where his friend was dancing with Parvati. He looked just as miserable as Ron felt.

"Oh, you want to dance with Harry, is that it?" Ginny stood up on her chair and waved at Neville, who had made it to the front of the line and was looking around for her. "Neville!" she yelled. "Over here!"

Neville started toward her at a run and promptly tripped over his own feet, spilling both drinks all over himself. With a huge sigh, he dropped the empty cups into a bin and rejoined the end of the line.

"Git," Ron snorted.

Ginny jumped down and slapped his shoulder. "Be nice." She reached under the chair and pulled out her silver heels. "I'm going to dance with some friends for a bit," she said, pointing her toes and gracefully slipping back into her shoes. "You're welcome to join me, if you want. Or you can sit here looking sour all night. Up to you."

"What friends have you got here?" It came out much ruder than he'd intended, but he couldn't bring himself to apologize.

Ginny winced as she fastened the strap on her right shoe. "Fred and George," she said.

"Brothers don't count as friends," Ron said.

She let out a huff of breath. "Their dates, then. Alicia and Angelina. They're my friends."

"Oh, please, you've never spoken to either of them in your life."

"Yes, I have!" She'd moved on to the strap on her left shoe. "But if you don't want to count them, fine. I know Dean Thomas. I know Harry, obviously. I know Hermione."

He flinched - not a lot, not as if someone had punched him, but more like he'd been poked in the side - and Ginny noticed.

"Ah," she said quietly, leaning back in her chair. "Hermione."

"What?" (He was red, he knew he was red.)

"You want to dance with Hermione."

He didn't say anything.

"I'll admit," Ginny said, and she wasn't looking at Ron anymore, she was following his gaze to the dance floor, where the girl in question was wrapped up in the arms of Viktor Krum, "you have excellent taste."

"It's not Hermione," he said.

"You aren't fooling me."

"It's not."

"Why won't you ask her?" Ginny asked. "You talk to her all the time. Just go when the song ends. Ask if you can have the next one."

Ron laughed and shook his head. "Where the hell is Neville with your bloody punch?"

"Tell me what you see in her," Ginny said.

"It's not Hermio - "

"Ron."

He sighed. "She's brilliant," he said after a long pause. "She's bloody - she's brilliant."

"A lot of girls are brilliant."

"Not like her."

The song ended; Hermione pointed toward the punch bowl (Neville was at the front again, but they'd run out of cups, and he was waiting while they fetched more from the kitchen), but Krum shook his head and pulled her closer.

(Ron didn't realize he was clenching his fists until Ginny asked whether he was going to punch Krum.)

"What else do you see in her?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Nothing. She's bossy. She's a know-it-all. She's boring. She doesn't like having fun."

Ginny waited. "But?"

Ron closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. "Have you ever - look, I know we don't talk about this, but you know the Chamber of Secrets?"

Ginny didn't say anything, and for a moment, Ron thought she was going to drop it, after all. "Yes," she said finally.

"You know how - when Harry saved you, and you woke up and he was there and you knew everything was going to be okay - do you remember what that felt like?"

A new song had started up. Angelina Johnson was spinning in circles with Katie Bell while they shouted the lyrics at the top of their lungs; Fred and George went galloping by, arms around each others' waists with roses clamped between their teeth; Harry stepped on Parvati's toes, and she leaped away from him; Hermione and Krum were close, so close, and Ron had been that close to her before, he'd been closer, but they'd always been in danger at the time, and she'd never looked at him like that. . . .

"I remember," Ginny whispered.

"You felt like . . . he was your hero, right? Like he was brave?"

She nodded. She was still looking at the crowd, eyes trained on one particular couple - Ron couldn't tell which one.

"She told me I was brave once," he said. "First year. Halloween. I'll never forget it. She was crying in the bathroom - I, er, I don't remember why - and there was this massive troll, and it nearly killed her. But I - Harry and I, I mean - we found her, and I used the only spell I knew - windgrdium leviosa, can you believe how pathetic that is? - and I knocked out the troll with its own club."

Neville was on his way back with the punch, walking carefully this time. Ginny hadn't taken her eyes off the dance floor.

"And afterwards, in the common room, after Harry went up to bed - she told me she thought I was brave. And - this is going to sound so stupid - it's the happiest I had ever been in my life."

"So you've liked her for years, then?" Ginny asked, but Ron shook his head.

"I didn't like her. Not - like that. I just felt like I mattered. She's the first one to ever tell me I mattered."

Ginny made a small noise in the back of her throat. "Oh, Ron, of course you matter."

"Punch, m'lady," Neville announced with a little bow. Ginny took a cup from his hand and sipped delicately.

"Thanks, Nev," Ron said glumly, taking the other cup and gulping deeply.

"But - " Neville cut himself off and sighed. "I'll be right back," he told Ginny, and then he was jogging back toward the ever-growing line behind the punch bowl.

"Anyway," Ron said as the song ended and Hermione and Krum finally broke apart. "I don't want to dance with her. She's got someone else to dance with."

"Krum?" Ginny scoffed. "Krum's not Hermione's type."

Ron snorted. "I don't think anyone told Hermione that."

"Trust me."

"Yeah, because you're an expert on the subject," Ron said sarcastically. Krum got in the drink line behind Neville; Hermione made a beeline for Ginny.

"Not dancing, Ginny?" she asked. She was a little out of breath; the hair around her face hunt in long spiraling tendrils, not frizzy clumps like Ginny's, and Ron tried very hard not to look at her.

"Neville's getting drinks," Ginny said.

"Viktor's just gotten in line." Hermione sat down on Ginny's other side and leaned over to take off her shoes. "Are you going to be sitting here for awhile?" she asked.

Ginny glanced longingly at the dance floor. "Probably."

"Would you watch my shoes?" Hermione asked.

"Sure." Ginny held out her hands, and Hermione passed her the heels.

"Thanks," Hermione said, and then: "Oh, Viktor's coming back. I'm off to catch the next song!"

"How is it possible," Ginny said, "that Krum was in line behind Neville, but he still got his punch first?"

"Neville's a walking disaster," Ron said emotionlessly. "What time's the Yule Ball end again?"

"Midnight." Ginny put Hermione's shoes in Ron's lap and stood. "I'm going to dance," she said. "If Neville comes back, tell him to find me."

"And what," Ron said, looking down at Hermione's heels in disgust. Ginny was already walking away. "You want me to just sit here and hold your stuff?"

"Not my stuff," Ginny called over her shoulder.

The urge to chuck the shoes at his sister's retreating back was nearly overwhelming - they were made of glass, and they were probably enchanted to not shatter, but maybe with enough force he could get a good crack in the sole, because tonight was going terribly and maybe he would feel better if he got to break something - but he didn't.

He sat in the chair for the rest of the night, watching all of them dance.

When the clock struck midnight, he set one of her shoes on the floor and went up to the common room.

The other shoe came with him to the boy's dormitory, where he set it on his bedside table and looked at it for a very long time before firmly deciding that he didn't like Hermione, after all.

(When he fell asleep, he dreamed of the two of them dancing together, and he woke with an ache in his heart.)

"Ginny," he overheard her ask the next morning, "did you take one of my shoes with you by mistake last night? I'm missing the left one."

"Ron was holding them, last I checked."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Ask him."

"I will," said Hermione.

But she never did.

Quidditch League

Position: Keeper

Word Count: 1,967

Prompt: Cinderella

[Disney Character Competition: Heimlich - write about Ronald Weasley]

[Last Man Standing Competition: Angst]

[Twelve Days of Christmas Style Challenge: 8 Genres - Angst (1/8)]