[fanfic100] 037 - Sound
Title: Dancing Shoes
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: George Weasley, Riley Hunter
Prompt: 037 - Sound
Word Count: 990
Rating: K+ (PG)
Summary: GoF, DT-verse. George is determined to teach his clumsy friend Riley Hunter to dance, no matter the cost.
Links: My Little Damn Table
--
"Oi, Hunter, you'll never get a date to the ball if you keep dancing like you have two left feet," laughed Fred.
The sixth years were on their way upstairs after a lesson from none other than their Head of House, Professor McGonagall, in the etiquette of ballroom dancing. The Gryffindor girls were positively giggly about it; Riley was fuming; and the Weasley twins thought the experience had been mostly ... educational.
"Oh, shut up," growled Riley, storming past them.
George stared after him thoughtfully. The blond had been particularly touchy lately, and he suspected the upcoming dance had something to do with it. Muttering to Fred and Lee that he'd catch up with them later, he hurried after Riley.
"Hunter! Hey, Hunter!"
Riley ignored his pounding footsteps until he'd gone round the corner and realized he'd hit a dead end in front of a tapestry of what appeared to be a wizard beheading a goblin. Arms crossed, he stood there, surveying the morbid artwork, as George caught up.
"Hey," he panted. "You all right?"
Riley snorted softly but didn't answer.
"Look - Fred wasn't being mean or anything -"
"No, he was just being Fred," Riley said. "I know, George, it's not that." Somehow interpreting the disbelieving look George shot at his back, he went on, "Really. I'm just ... I haven't been feeling great lately. Don't think the cold's doing me any good."
George made a faint sympathetic noise. "You can always borrow our jumpers if you like - we've got loads of extras."
"Thanks."
"Y'know..." George hesitated, "...if you do want to learn how to dance proper, well, I can teach you..."
Riley glanced up sharply. George grinned, absently scratching his head; his ears had gone rather red. "Fred and I are kind of naturals at it."
"You'd really teach me?" he asked.
"I've got nothing else to do, so yeah, why not?"
--
They stood alone in the dormitory; the other boys had long headed down for dinner, yet George remained, patiently coaching his new charge. From who-knows-where he had found an old record player to use, the chintzy waltz music blaring out over a crackle of static.
"Step with the music - let the rhythm guide you," he instructed, laying out the basic steps.
"Like this?" Riley imitated his movements, awkwardly shuffling back and forth.
"Uh-huh. Now follow with the music: one - two - three - one - two - three."
Riley gained confidence as he repeated the waltz steps, muttering under his breath. "One ... two ... three ... one ... two ... oops..." He stumbled over a strewn lump of clothing, quickly catching himself on the edge of the nearest bed. "One - two - three -"
"See, you're getting the hang of it," George said brightly. "That wasn't so hard, now, was it?"
"No, it wasn't," Riley grinned back.
George clapped his hands. "The next step, then."
"What's -?"
Before Riley had the chance to counteract, George had stepped forward to meet him, taking up his left hand in his right, and placing his left hand on Riley's shoulder. "Now," he said in all seriousness, "you'll use that wonderful imagination of yours and pretend I'm a girl, all right?"
"Er -" said Riley intelligently.
"You're imagining, yes?"
"Er - yes, yes I am."
"Good," George said cheerfully, not seeming to notice the color rising in Riley's face. "Now: one - two - three..."
With George leading him and Riley keeping a close eye on his feet, they circled around the dormitory in time to the music, around discarded clothes and scattered trunks. Riley's palms were slick with sweat; he was struggling to focus even with George's cheery count in his ear.
"One - two - ouch!"
"Sorry," mumbled Riley.
"That was my foot, Hunter, I did like it the way it was." George sighed heavily and instead loosened his grip; a moment later Riley dimly realized he was supposed to twirl around and did so, fumbling for George's hand again.
"You always this tense?" George asked conversationally.
"Well," Riley shot back irritably, "I don't usually dance with other guys."
"Nah, I'm a girl, remember?" George winked cheekily.
Riley growled but didn't answer.
"I'm serious, you'll do a lot better if you loosen up," George prodded. "Look at me, will you?"
Riley glanced up and met his eye. It was a mistake: his foot caught on a trunk behind him and he stumbled, grasping the front of George's robes to catch himself. His eyes widened as they both overbalanced; and with a startled squeak Riley fell back, dragging George down on top of him.
They hit the floor with a loud thump, Riley groaning as pain shot up his back; it came out rather muffled as George was currently squishing him.
"I'm sorry, I'm such a klutz," he muttered.
"Am I interrupting something here?" Both boys glanced up to see Fred standing over them, an eyebrow quirked, hands on hips. His entrance had gone completely unnoticed under the cover of their music.
"Shut up," growled George, hastily sitting up. "This isn't what it looks like!" He grasped Riley's hand, hauling him back to his feet as well.
"I still think you'd make a nice couple," Fred said innocently.
"Don't you dare go there," Riley cut in with a glare, straightening his robes. "He was giving me dancing lessons, and I tripped. Nothing else."
"Riiiight," said Fred.
George shrugged and headed for the door; "Hey!" two voices chorused after him. "Where're you going?"
He turned back with a lopsided grin. "Dinner. I'm starving. And by the way, Fred," he winked, "it's your turn to dance with him."
And with that he hurried outside before either of them could react, hearing an explosion of protest at his back as he leaned up against the closed door. George grinned; that would keep them busy for a while, and with any luck there'd still be dessert in the hall when he got downstairs.
Another job well done.
The End
--