1 fic - challenge #30, "tic tac toe".
Title: Dress Robes
Rating/Warnings: PG
Characters/Pairing: Ron, Harry, Draco, Parvati, Padma.
Summary: All Ron ever wants is to, for once, have something that isn't second-hand. Unfortunately, his Yule Ball robes turn out to be the very definition of 'second-hand'.
Word Count: 1,110
Author's Notes: I love Ron. And this post maxes me out for the week! This is set during Goblet of Fire. It's written for Challenge #30, which is a Tic-Tac-Toe board. The three phrases I used were "I liked it better when it was pink", "I'm not quite sure I follow. Or perhaps I just don't want to", and "Your mother lets you wear that outside?". They're all in there, I swear.
Registered purchases?: Both registered.
Ron Weasley knows he’s poor. He’s had to live with it his whole life, and the constant reminders don’t really help. He loves his siblings, he does, but he doesn’t like the fact that his father’s paycheque barely takes care of all of them. He’s sick of hand-me-down robes, and second hand books, and used wizard chess sets and inheriting someone else’s pets.
He loves his family, but for once - for once - he wishes they’d give him something new.
He’s secretly hoping for new dress robes when he sees the package that his mum sent Harry. Harry’s robes are clean and simple, sophisticated even, and they are a nice deep green colour. They aren’t too extravagant and they won’t draw any extra attention his way. And there is no doubt that they have never been worn before. And since Ron received his robes at the same time as Harry received his, there is a hope - a small hope, but a hope nonetheless - that his will be new, too.
Of course, then Ron pulls out frilly, laced-covered, moldy-smelling dress robes out of his own package, and his heart sinks. They are clearly old - probably from the 1880s, he wouldn’t put it past his mum - and have definitely been worn before. Likely dozens of times.
“Bloody hell,” Ron moans, holding them up in front of him for Harry to see.
Harry, to his credit, does his best to keep a straight face. “Maybe it’ll look better off the hanger,” he supplies. “Sometimes Muggle clothes look better once they’re on a person’s body. Maybe it’s the same with these robes?”
Ron shrugs. It’s worth a try, because he’s pretty sure he’s stuck with them now. Chucking his school robes, he tugs the frilly ones over his head. The fabric is heavy and hangs straight down to his feet. The robes smell musty, as if they’ve been locked away in a grandmother’s drunk for the past hundred years.
Ron stares at himself in the mirror. To his dismay, the robes actually look worse on him, if that’s possible. They clash with his red hair. “I look like an old-fashioned sofa,” he complains to Harry.
“It’s… they’re not that bad,” Harry says helpfully, and Ron rolls his eyes.
“What are you, blind?” He shakes his head. “I can’t go to the Yule Ball looking like this. I can’t.”
“Well,” Harry says, “you can’t exactly trade them in for a new set.”
Ron pauses for a moment, thinking. He can’t trade them in for a new set, that’s true. But… he may be able to make some changes. “No… but maybe I can improve them.”
“What?”
Ron grabs his wand from his bedside table. “Maybe I can fix them up a bit.”
“I’m not sure I follow,” Harry says, plopping down on the end of his bed and eyeing Ron warily. “Or perhaps I just don’t want to.”
“Watch this,” Ron says, and waves his wand with a flourish.
Harry bursts out laughing. Ron takes one look at himself and blushes, his cheeks turning the exact same shade of pink that his dress robes now are.
“Bugger.”
“No, no! It’s a good look for you,” Harry assures him, now clutching his sides as he laughs. “Leave it like this. Padma will love it.”
“I’m not leaving it like this. I can fix it!” Ron proclaims.
Harry raises his eyebrows. “Sure you can.”
“You shut up,” Ron says, wagging a finger in Harry’s direction. “Now then.”
Ron draws himself up and waves his wand again. This time, the pink vanishes. Instead, it’s replaced with loud gold and red stripes.
Harry surveys the damage and shakes his head sadly. “I don’t know, mate. I liked it better when it was pink.”
Ron pointedly ignores him. After another fifteen minutes of work, he’s managed to return the robes to their original colour, and he’s severed off the ruffles and frills in an attempt to make the outfit appear more manly. The results aren’t perfect - the wand-work is awfully shoddy, even he knows that, and he would have been better off asking Hermione to take care of it for him. Except that they aren’t exactly speaking at the moment. So shoddily-removed lace and frills will have to do.
Harry convinces Ron not to skip out on the Yule Ball altogether, despite the fact that he’d rather hide up in the dormitories and never, ever wear those robes in public. He makes his way down to the Gryffindor common room with his head ducked low, avoiding the eye contact of everyone he passes. Harry meets Parvati and, thankfully, she has enough tact not to say anything cruel about Ron’s outfit. She does stare, though, which he doesn’t appreciate.
“Come on,” Harry encourages him, “let’s go down to the Ball. Once people start dancing, no one will be looking at you.”
“We’ll see about that,” Ron mutters darkly.
He gets stares as they make their way through the corridors, Ron knows. So far he hasn’t seen Hermione, which he considers a stroke of good fortune. He slinks into the Entrance Hall a few steps behind Harry and Parvati, and the two lead him over to Parvati’s sister Padma.
“Hullo,” he mutters, dejected. When Harry crushes Ron’s toes under the heel of his dress shoe, Ron raises his gaze to actually look at Padma. She’s staring at his outfit in disbelief, her nose crinkled as if she’d smelled something foul.
“Hi,” she replies. She doesn’t exactly sound thrilled.
“You look nice,” he tells her, because that’s what he’s supposed to say to her, isn’t it?
“Thanks,” she says. “You look….” But words seem to fail her and she finally closes her mouth, shrugging helplessly. Ron wants to hide in a bathroom and never come out.
“Go on inside,” Harry urges. “We’ll meet you after.”
Ron nods. He offers his arm to Padma but she declines, as if she’s afraid to get a disease from his old robes. The two almost make it inside the room when a shout echoes across the Entrance Hall.
“Oi, Weasley!” It’s Draco Malfoy’s voice. “What’s that you’re wearing? A moldy couch?” Ron can hear the sniggers of Malfoy’s cronies. “Your mother lets you wear that outside?”
Yes, Ron really wants to curl up and die now.
Suddenly he feels a hand on his arm, and he looks up, surprised. It’s Padma. Her eyes flash with defiance as she links her arm through his.
“Come on, Ronald,” she says, loud enough that Draco and his friends can hear her. “Let’s go dance.”
And, as they enter the Great Hall, Ron smiles for the first time all evening.
end.
1110 words / 30 = 37 points
+ 10 for purchases = 47 points
- 5 (maxing out)
= 42 points for Hufflepuff!
Janna/Hufflepuff
Rating/Warnings: PG
Characters/Pairing: Ron, Harry, Draco, Parvati, Padma.
Summary: All Ron ever wants is to, for once, have something that isn't second-hand. Unfortunately, his Yule Ball robes turn out to be the very definition of 'second-hand'.
Word Count: 1,110
Author's Notes: I love Ron. And this post maxes me out for the week! This is set during Goblet of Fire. It's written for Challenge #30, which is a Tic-Tac-Toe board. The three phrases I used were "I liked it better when it was pink", "I'm not quite sure I follow. Or perhaps I just don't want to", and "Your mother lets you wear that outside?". They're all in there, I swear.
Registered purchases?: Both registered.
Ron Weasley knows he’s poor. He’s had to live with it his whole life, and the constant reminders don’t really help. He loves his siblings, he does, but he doesn’t like the fact that his father’s paycheque barely takes care of all of them. He’s sick of hand-me-down robes, and second hand books, and used wizard chess sets and inheriting someone else’s pets.
He loves his family, but for once - for once - he wishes they’d give him something new.
He’s secretly hoping for new dress robes when he sees the package that his mum sent Harry. Harry’s robes are clean and simple, sophisticated even, and they are a nice deep green colour. They aren’t too extravagant and they won’t draw any extra attention his way. And there is no doubt that they have never been worn before. And since Ron received his robes at the same time as Harry received his, there is a hope - a small hope, but a hope nonetheless - that his will be new, too.
Of course, then Ron pulls out frilly, laced-covered, moldy-smelling dress robes out of his own package, and his heart sinks. They are clearly old - probably from the 1880s, he wouldn’t put it past his mum - and have definitely been worn before. Likely dozens of times.
“Bloody hell,” Ron moans, holding them up in front of him for Harry to see.
Harry, to his credit, does his best to keep a straight face. “Maybe it’ll look better off the hanger,” he supplies. “Sometimes Muggle clothes look better once they’re on a person’s body. Maybe it’s the same with these robes?”
Ron shrugs. It’s worth a try, because he’s pretty sure he’s stuck with them now. Chucking his school robes, he tugs the frilly ones over his head. The fabric is heavy and hangs straight down to his feet. The robes smell musty, as if they’ve been locked away in a grandmother’s drunk for the past hundred years.
Ron stares at himself in the mirror. To his dismay, the robes actually look worse on him, if that’s possible. They clash with his red hair. “I look like an old-fashioned sofa,” he complains to Harry.
“It’s… they’re not that bad,” Harry says helpfully, and Ron rolls his eyes.
“What are you, blind?” He shakes his head. “I can’t go to the Yule Ball looking like this. I can’t.”
“Well,” Harry says, “you can’t exactly trade them in for a new set.”
Ron pauses for a moment, thinking. He can’t trade them in for a new set, that’s true. But… he may be able to make some changes. “No… but maybe I can improve them.”
“What?”
Ron grabs his wand from his bedside table. “Maybe I can fix them up a bit.”
“I’m not sure I follow,” Harry says, plopping down on the end of his bed and eyeing Ron warily. “Or perhaps I just don’t want to.”
“Watch this,” Ron says, and waves his wand with a flourish.
Harry bursts out laughing. Ron takes one look at himself and blushes, his cheeks turning the exact same shade of pink that his dress robes now are.
“Bugger.”
“No, no! It’s a good look for you,” Harry assures him, now clutching his sides as he laughs. “Leave it like this. Padma will love it.”
“I’m not leaving it like this. I can fix it!” Ron proclaims.
Harry raises his eyebrows. “Sure you can.”
“You shut up,” Ron says, wagging a finger in Harry’s direction. “Now then.”
Ron draws himself up and waves his wand again. This time, the pink vanishes. Instead, it’s replaced with loud gold and red stripes.
Harry surveys the damage and shakes his head sadly. “I don’t know, mate. I liked it better when it was pink.”
Ron pointedly ignores him. After another fifteen minutes of work, he’s managed to return the robes to their original colour, and he’s severed off the ruffles and frills in an attempt to make the outfit appear more manly. The results aren’t perfect - the wand-work is awfully shoddy, even he knows that, and he would have been better off asking Hermione to take care of it for him. Except that they aren’t exactly speaking at the moment. So shoddily-removed lace and frills will have to do.
Harry convinces Ron not to skip out on the Yule Ball altogether, despite the fact that he’d rather hide up in the dormitories and never, ever wear those robes in public. He makes his way down to the Gryffindor common room with his head ducked low, avoiding the eye contact of everyone he passes. Harry meets Parvati and, thankfully, she has enough tact not to say anything cruel about Ron’s outfit. She does stare, though, which he doesn’t appreciate.
“Come on,” Harry encourages him, “let’s go down to the Ball. Once people start dancing, no one will be looking at you.”
“We’ll see about that,” Ron mutters darkly.
He gets stares as they make their way through the corridors, Ron knows. So far he hasn’t seen Hermione, which he considers a stroke of good fortune. He slinks into the Entrance Hall a few steps behind Harry and Parvati, and the two lead him over to Parvati’s sister Padma.
“Hullo,” he mutters, dejected. When Harry crushes Ron’s toes under the heel of his dress shoe, Ron raises his gaze to actually look at Padma. She’s staring at his outfit in disbelief, her nose crinkled as if she’d smelled something foul.
“Hi,” she replies. She doesn’t exactly sound thrilled.
“You look nice,” he tells her, because that’s what he’s supposed to say to her, isn’t it?
“Thanks,” she says. “You look….” But words seem to fail her and she finally closes her mouth, shrugging helplessly. Ron wants to hide in a bathroom and never come out.
“Go on inside,” Harry urges. “We’ll meet you after.”
Ron nods. He offers his arm to Padma but she declines, as if she’s afraid to get a disease from his old robes. The two almost make it inside the room when a shout echoes across the Entrance Hall.
“Oi, Weasley!” It’s Draco Malfoy’s voice. “What’s that you’re wearing? A moldy couch?” Ron can hear the sniggers of Malfoy’s cronies. “Your mother lets you wear that outside?”
Yes, Ron really wants to curl up and die now.
Suddenly he feels a hand on his arm, and he looks up, surprised. It’s Padma. Her eyes flash with defiance as she links her arm through his.
“Come on, Ronald,” she says, loud enough that Draco and his friends can hear her. “Let’s go dance.”
And, as they enter the Great Hall, Ron smiles for the first time all evening.
end.
1110 words / 30 = 37 points
+ 10 for purchases = 47 points
- 5 (maxing out)
= 42 points for Hufflepuff!
Janna/Hufflepuff