Post by gmshed on Aug 20, 2006 9:00:59 GMT -5
A/N: It would appear that I am currently obsessed with traumatising Harry and Ron. Sorry.
Hermione had been staring at the High Table for five minutes, a stupid expression on her face.
“Hermione, are you ever going to eat that chicken? I will, if you don’t want it.”
The stupid expression was replaced by irritation as she turned to me.
“Don’t you ever think about anything but your stomach, Ron?”
I was highly insulted. I was just about to come back with a bitingly witty comment that would have shut Hermione up for good when Harry interrupted.
“What’s so fascinating about the teachers anyway?”
She turned her gaze back to the teachers and that stupid expression blanketed her face again.
“McGonagall and Dumbledore are so cute together.” She sighed dreamily.
Harry and I gaped at her.
“Oh, look. I think they’re playing footsie.” She cooed.
“What?” Harry spluttered.
He shot to his feet and stared under the High Table, not caring that nearly everyone in the hall was staring at him. He collapsed back into his chair as if his muscles had given way.
“Bloody hell, they are.” He stared at me with wide, haunted eyes.
“What’s footsie?” Why, oh why did I ask that? I never did know when to let sleeping dragons lie.
Harry gulped. “They’re- they’re nudging each other’s foot and- and stroking each other’s leg with their foot…oh God.” His head fell into his mashed potato and his next words were muffled. “Just kill me now.”
And that was bad enough. Whatever made me shoot to my feet and gawk under the High Table like Harry? Why was my automatic reaction? You would almost have thought I had a wish to be scarred for life.
The only people who didn’t look in my direction were McGonagall and Dumbledore. They were concentrating on their plates, a secret smile tugging at their lips.
I fell back into my chair, feeling physically sick. That- that was worse than my parents. They had to at least two hundred between them.
Hermione buttered a bread roll. “That is just so adorable. I mean, aren’t they just perfect for each other? I wonder how long they’ve been together.”
Harry clamped his hands over his ears, his face still buried in his potato. I could only stare at Hermione with some kind of sick horror.
She noticed me staring. “All right.” She sighed. “You can have my chicken if you want it so much.” She pushed the plate towards me.
I pushed it back. “No thank you, Hermione. For some reason I seem to have lost my appetite.”
“I told you not to eat all those Honeydukes.”
Hermione had been staring at the High Table for five minutes, a stupid expression on her face.
“Hermione, are you ever going to eat that chicken? I will, if you don’t want it.”
The stupid expression was replaced by irritation as she turned to me.
“Don’t you ever think about anything but your stomach, Ron?”
I was highly insulted. I was just about to come back with a bitingly witty comment that would have shut Hermione up for good when Harry interrupted.
“What’s so fascinating about the teachers anyway?”
She turned her gaze back to the teachers and that stupid expression blanketed her face again.
“McGonagall and Dumbledore are so cute together.” She sighed dreamily.
Harry and I gaped at her.
“Oh, look. I think they’re playing footsie.” She cooed.
“What?” Harry spluttered.
He shot to his feet and stared under the High Table, not caring that nearly everyone in the hall was staring at him. He collapsed back into his chair as if his muscles had given way.
“Bloody hell, they are.” He stared at me with wide, haunted eyes.
“What’s footsie?” Why, oh why did I ask that? I never did know when to let sleeping dragons lie.
Harry gulped. “They’re- they’re nudging each other’s foot and- and stroking each other’s leg with their foot…oh God.” His head fell into his mashed potato and his next words were muffled. “Just kill me now.”
And that was bad enough. Whatever made me shoot to my feet and gawk under the High Table like Harry? Why was my automatic reaction? You would almost have thought I had a wish to be scarred for life.
The only people who didn’t look in my direction were McGonagall and Dumbledore. They were concentrating on their plates, a secret smile tugging at their lips.
I fell back into my chair, feeling physically sick. That- that was worse than my parents. They had to at least two hundred between them.
Hermione buttered a bread roll. “That is just so adorable. I mean, aren’t they just perfect for each other? I wonder how long they’ve been together.”
Harry clamped his hands over his ears, his face still buried in his potato. I could only stare at Hermione with some kind of sick horror.
She noticed me staring. “All right.” She sighed. “You can have my chicken if you want it so much.” She pushed the plate towards me.
I pushed it back. “No thank you, Hermione. For some reason I seem to have lost my appetite.”
“I told you not to eat all those Honeydukes.”
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