|Scene Title||A Weasley Revenge|
|Synopsis||Ron does his best to get revenge on George, but his plan backfires a bit.|
|Location||Gryffindor Common Room|
|Date||December 14, 1994|
|Watch For||Those crazy Gryffindors.|
It is afternoon here at Hogwarts, and classes are out for the day. For the most part, at least. Angelina sits at a table there, studying with about six books open before her. She reads, then writes on her parchment, then reads a bit more. However, it isn't class work she is studying. It is Quidditch!
The portrait to the Common Room scrapes open, and a redheaded wizard walks through it, recognizable to most as Ron Weasley. He ignores the stares and whispers he gets, no doubt commotion about him 'fancying' Luna Lovegood and how he's taking her to the ball, and part of the reason he can ignore them is because they don't bother him. Not today. Today, he gets payback. This will teach that git of a brother he has. Looking around the room, he's trying to spot one witch in particular, and he finally does at one of the tables, surrounded by books. "Angelina!" he calls out, making his way over to her table and taking a seat opposite of her. "Oi. Studying Quidditch?"
Angelina glances up as her name is called. She searches, then grins when she realizes it was Ron. She doesn't whisper or stare. Just that knowing grin. Yep. He was /so/ set up. "Ron." She greets him before turning to watch him sit across from her. "Yeah. Trying to dream up some new fancy plays for us to practice. Just because there is no Quidditch this year doesn't mean everyone gets off easy. This is a year for us to get a leg up, train some others that want to try out."
"Ooh, neat," Ron says, grinning down at the papers. "I was telling Harry the same thing. With all this Quad-Wizard madness going on, and my favorite, the Yule Ball, happening, too, there hasn't been much time to focus on Quidditch. A crime, really, if you ask me." The youngest of the Weasley sons shrugs, propping his chin up in one hand. "So," he says, trying to sound casual (and not doing too good of a job if we're honest here), "do you have a date for the ball? I— I'm not asking for me, I was just wondering, really."
"I intend to change the fact we aren't focusing on Quidditch. I've let it go for too long. And no one else stepped up. So I'm going to." His question, however, takes the young witch by surprise. "I..uh.." Angelina clears her throat, looking distinctly uncomfortable. Her gaze falls to the books before her again as the quill is lifted so she doesn't have to look at him. "I'm not going to the ball."
Well /that's/ not fair. Ron had no intention of going to the ball, but he was roped into it by his older brothers, but now Angelina isn't going? Maybe she has a good reason. Whatever the case, the fact she won't look at him unnerves Ron a little bit, and he isn't so sure if he wants to go through with what he came here to do. He would really prefer if he could avoid upsetting another girl. "Why?" he says, sounding concerned.
What the…? Why does he /think/ she isn't going? He wants to make her say it outloud, then? So the whole house knows she doesn't have a date and no one asked her? Angelina taps her quill a few times before looking up at the poor boy, flustered. "Ron, why does it really matter? I'm just not going, alright? I'd rather stay up here alone than go down there alone."
"Oh," Ron says, thinking that is a perfectly acceptable reason. Then what she said hits him. ".. oh," Ron says, looking a little uncomfortable now. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to— well, you know, I was just wondering—" Yes, Ron, keep stumbling over your words. It's so charming. "I'm sorry," he says again, dumbly, and he just sort of looks at Angelina, not knowing what to say.
Angelina lowers her head once more, trying to hide her face behind a hand on her forehead and still look to see who heard out of the corner of her eye. "Shhhhh! Not so loud, Ron!" She scribbles a little on her parchment. "And stop saying you're sorry. Its not like you were going to ask me, after all."
"Sorry, sorry," Ron says, going directly against what Angelina tells him not to do. "I don't know what to say," Ron says, keeping his voice to a whisper and offering an apologetic smile. "But…" he looks around, making sure there's no one eavesdropping, and he leans forward a bit. "I might know someone, though, who would want to go with you."
"Oh, right. Who? Malfoy or something? Lee?" Angelina sounds a bit incredulous about this fact. "And if they wanted to go with me, why would they have not asked me yet? The dance is in..what? 5 days or something of the sort? If they haven't asked me yet, they aren't very likely to."
"Well, why did I take so long to ask Hermione—" Nevermind, not going down that road. "Why did it take me so long to ask someone?" he corrects, blowing over the fact he mentioned Hermione's name. We're not talking about her, not after their huge row in the Greenhouses. And not that he even technically asked anyone aside from her.
One dark brow quirks as her head lifts. Ahha! A way to take the attention off herself and her serious lack of a date! "You wanted to ask Hermione, then? Why didn't you ask her? If you want to ask someone, you shouldn't wait. Why did you risk her getting asked by someone else?"
"I did ask Hermione, and it was really according to her that I took a long time to ask her to the ball. It wasn't that long really, and, well…" Ron isn't exactly sure why he's telling anyone this, but someone has to hear his side of the story! Angelina is a girl, too, maybe she'll understand! "She was already going with someone else. I mean, there was plenty of time left for me to ask her, but I didn't think she had already been asked. I had to work up the nerve, but I guess that … Danny bloke beat me to it."
Angelina props her chin in her hand to watch Ron, head tipped ever-so-slightly to the side. "Why did you have to work up the nerve? Why is it such a big deal? It isn't like we're going to kick you in the shin or something. The worst that will happen is us saying no. Did you expect her to turn down another invitation in the hopes that you would eventually ask her?"
At the question of why he had to work up the nerve, Ron turns a brilliant shade of scarlet, which he does his best to hide by having to dig through his bag, which is conveniently located under the table. Once he comes back up, empty-handed of course, the blush isn't nearly as bad, and it's almost gone. "Just.. I just had to," he says with a small shrug. "Why do the blokes have to ask, anyway? Why can't you guys ask us?"
"You have to ask us because…you just do." Angelina shrugs. She doesn't really have a great answer for that. "It is the way it has been done for centuries. You are supposed to ask us, and in return, we have the babies. It seems entirely fair to me. We have to do all the work. Its only fair you should have to do /something/."
The redheaded Gryffindor really has no idea at all what to say to that. They make the babies, so they have to do something. He's not going to argue that point with her, mainly because he doesn't know what point he would use to argue it with her. "Well," he says, frowning slightly, "sometimes it's hard for us to ask, you know. For… reasons."
Still, she looks at him, chin propped in hand, warm brown eyes curious. "Reasons? Like what? List…say..three."
There's a loud whistle and a pop and a bright flash of green in the corridor outside of the Gryffindor commons, and then there's a raucous laughter as George and Fred arrive, Lee Jordan close behind. The twins spot Ron and suddenly, "Brother!" is said in loud unison. Fred is covered with black powder, so all he does is move to clap Ron on the back with a "How's Loony, ehhh?" before he's up the stairs to the boy's dormitory, two at a time. Lee follows after with a box in hand, presumably to hide the rest of their goods, and George just grins to Angelina and Ron as he slides into a chair at their table. "S'up?"
"Reasons?" Ron says, slightly taken aback. "Uh… hum…." he says outloud, thinking to himself. "Well. One could be that they like the person and afraid to ask… another could be that they don't know how to ask, or just aren't sure who to ask… a third could be…" That's about when Fred, George, and Lee arrives. Ron simply smiles at the three of them, even giving Fred a hearty chuckle when he asks about Loony. That would be a clue that something is not right. "Oh, everything's fine, really," he says, turning his attention back to Angelina. "That third reason? Maybe because George here has a huge crush on you."
As she listens to the list of reasons, Angelina keeps her focus on Ron. That is, at least, until all the noise in the corridor. The three boys get a shake of her head, though she is at least grinning. "Fred..give him a break. Haven't you done enough?" Oh yes. She's defending Ron. That is, until she gets caught up in the trap laid for his brother. Blink. Blink. Her gaze slides between the boys at her table, back and forth. And then? Anger. "Ronald Weasley! That is not even funny! How /could you/?"
"Reasons for what?" George bumps in as Ron starts listing, leaning forward and then leaning back, both hands behind his head as he realizes what his brother is getting at. And then… Ron outs him. Suddenly, there's a huge grin on George's face. "Oh Angelina," he says in his most suave voice. "Don't you dare get angry with our dear Ronald," he continues. "He's absolutely right. I've been harboring a crush on you since the first day I saw you. Please, will you be mine foreeever?" He suddenly turns to her, winking and giving her his biggest puppydog eyes and pouty lips. That's right, this som'bitch is playing it off. It's not /that/ easy to embarass a Weasley twin! Despite the fact that his ears are red.
The Gryffindor is taken aback when Angelina turns on him with anger, and for a moment he words mouthlessly, not sure of what to say. "Well!" He suddenly turns to George, though, when he begins to play it off. "Don't you try and play it off!" Ron snaps at his brother. "It's obvious! Anyone with half a brain could see it!" He shakes his head, visibly bristling, and he leans back in his seat to cross his arms. "Not so funny when it's happening to you, is it," he mutters under his breath.
With a scowl, Angelina stands and begins slamming shut her books. "You guys just play your pranks. Just keep doing it. Go on. Just don't even worry about who might get hurt feelings while you all just set each other up. Poor Luna is going to be crushed when she finds out Ron doesn't actually like her! And telling someone who has not been asked to the ball that someone has a crush on them just to get back at that someone is NOT NICE."
Actually, it's hilarious, because Angelina is pissed at /Ron/ and not him. George's secret is protected by it's obviousness and he just leans back further, tilting his chair back, but starts to look a little worried as Angelina prepares to storm away. "Awww, Angie, c'mon. He's just being a git." Though there's some sudden thoughtfulness as he watches her slam her books around, as she says she doesn't have a date. Wait, Fred hasn't asked her yet? He's quiet as an internal debate rages.
"I'm not— I'm not— I'm not—" Ron is just simply at a loss for words. "Angelina, wait! I didn't mean it like that! I'm not joking or trying to play a prank, George really does have a crush on you!" Whipping around to face his brother, he points an angry finger at Angelina. "Tell her, George! I'm not going to be the bad guy again and send some other girl off crying and mad at me because you're too much of a git to man up! I did when I asked Hermione, so you can too!"
Bundled heavily for the outdoors, the first-year known (to oh-so-few) as Jace slips past the Fat Lady, rushing to avoid this week's vocal stuntwork. …and right into a ruckus. Clenching a battered book to his chest, the dark-haired boy just blinks in the doorway, trying to figure out what in the world's going on.
Angelina shoves her books into her bag, looking between the two boys. Her lips are pressed tightly together as she waits for one of them to fess up. Who is telling the truth? Who knows. She surely doesn't. "I am not going to /cry/, Ron. I stopped crying over the mindless pranks of the Weasley boys in the middle of my first year. It isn't worth it. But I think you're all gits if you think you can just play us girls like this. Maybe I'll just get all of us to dump our dates, and we'll just go as a group of girls!" HA! That'd show 'em.
As Ron continues to try and persuede her that George really does have a crush on her, George tries to look casual and not worried… the redness creeps from the tips of his ears on down. "You really are bad with women, Ron," he admits, watching Angelina some more and ignoring everything his brother decides to reveal. He looks torn. Keep the act up or ask her to the ball before Fred does. Jacen is glanced at as he comes through the portrait hole and it breaks his debate, "C'mon now, no one's asked the great Angelina Johnson, best quidditch captain we've had in a long time?" He's laying it on a bit thick, isn't he? "I find that hard to believe." And he's being quite honest.
Jacen just blinks again, when suddenly his reluctance to interrupt little more than a footnote. Rushing up to Angelina, the dark-haired boy whips his hood and hat off, emerald eyes flashing. "Wait- You're the Quidditch captain?!" His copy of "Illustrated History of Brooms" held tight to his chest, he looks up at the obviously angry captain. "I wanna try-out next year! …but I need to learn about the game first…"
George might be trying to lay it on thick, but Angelina isn't buying. She's already angry. "Oh, sod off! Both of you! NO. No one asked me. Are you both happy now?!" Her bag is thrown over her shoulder and she turns to stalk off, nearly running into the poor little firstie. "Oh really? Good then. Show up when I announce the practices. And be ON TIME. Unlike the team beaters!"
George is lost for words, just like his dear brother - not only has it backfired on Ron, it's starting to backfire on him, too. He frown's at Ron. GREAT, THANKS. You made her angry, you dimwit! No, none of this is George's fault at all. He stands, moving after Angelina, offering a shrug to Jacen about the quidditch try-outs. "Angie, wait, come on now."
Jacen -is- smart enough to know when to move, and move he does. Backing away from the raging Angelina, the dark-haired Firstie just looks between the Weasley boys, and the Quidditch captain before finally settling on Ron with a stunned expression. "…what did you DO?!"
Angelina does stop, finally, right outside the door to the girl's dorms. She does, at least, give George time to catch up to her, foot tapping on the floor impatiently. "Come on, what? Do you guys ever think about the people who get caught up in your pranks? Like poor Luna? And now me?"
"He's done gone it now, s'what he did," George mutters to Jacen as he passes, following after Angelina. "It was just a bit of fun, Angie," George tries to defend himself, running his hand back through his hair. "Luna's quite happy!" Who cares if Ron isn't? Though as Angelina claims that she's now amongst the pranked, George frowns and glances up the stairs to the boy's dormitory. It's either ask now, or Fred's gonna do it later. "You, um, wanna go with me, then? Since you don't have a date. And I don't have a date…" Awkward.
Jacen just stands there like the dumbfounded little Firstie he is, watching the exchange with more than a lottle (Yes, it's a word!) curiosity. Lower lip slipping between his teeth, Jacen's expression drifts between morbid fascination and disgust as he mutters under his breath. "Gods, I hope I don't end up like that when -I'm- older…"
What the hell kinda invitation is that supposed to be? Was that a PITY DATE offer? Internally, Angie groans. Here she is, in the common room, only being invited because she doesn't have a date yet a few days before the dance. In front of /everyone/. "Fine. I'll go with you. I think you're a complete git right now, not to mention a dolt, and about any other word I can think of, but at least I got asked, right?"
George /heard/ that, wrinkling his nose over Angelina's shoulder at the ickle firstie. But wait, was that a yes? "Seriously? You will?" There is some shock registering on his face as he absorbs what happened. Regardless of being called a bunch of names, George grins from ear-to-ear. "I'll, um, pick you up at six thirty?" Pick her up from where? The dormitory? Okay. Take /that/, Fred.
Eyes widening when George looks back, Jace -knows- he's busted. A quick scan of the common room, and the spiky-haired boy simply bolts for it, heading up the stairs to the boys' dorm as fast as his robes will allow. A pained grunt slips out as he trips over said robes, obviously unused to that kind of clothing. Recovering quickly, Jace is thankful it was the book taking the worst of it as he plods to his room.
Angie ducks her head, suddenly feeling a little shy, for whatever reason. Her voice grows more quiet. "Yes. That was a yes. It isn't like anyone else wants to go with me. You're the only one who even bothered to ask, even if it is just out of pity."