*Falls Over*
Edited on June 11, 2007 - well, the story has been, anyway.
The blame is entirely mine on this. It's not
miss_elisha's fault at all. Though it's highly influenced by her, and even though, you know, she made me do it by mentioning it, and all. And even after I'd written it I didn't want to post it, but . . . well, if I can do a strip tease in front of a live audience, I can post this where I don't even have to have creepy old ladies come up to me after the play is over, and . . . well, anyway!
And Fred basically took this over.
There's Something I Could Name This But I Don't Wanna.
Ships (I AM NOT A SHIPPER): Charlie/Neville, mentioned Fred/Angelina, implied George/Luna.
Word Count: 775
“She's going to shout at me, isn't she?” Neville said.
“Who is?” Charlie asked.
“Your mum.”
“My mother is not going to yell at you,” Charlie said. “Why would she shout at you? Now, she might shout at me. I've certainly kept you to myself long enough.”
Neville certainly wouldn't have been surprised if Mrs. Weasley did shout at Charlie. He had gotten the impression from Ron and the twins that she shouted at her sons quite often. This wasn't a very encouraging thought.
“What was it you told her, again?”
“That I'd be bringing a friend for tea,” Charlie said, smiling at Neville before disapparating. For a brief moment Neville considered staying where he was, but he'd have to get it over with eventually, and it might as well be now.
Mrs. Weasley smiled at Neville, when he arrived. “Hello, dear,” she said. “Tea isn't quite ready, yet, but why don't you go ahead and have a seat.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Weasley,” he said, sitting in the chair next to Charlie. Before either of them could say anything more, Fred popped in, (Neville was fairly certain it was Fred), and grabbed a bit of toast.
“You don't live here, do you?” Charlie asked.
“'Course not,” Fred said, through a mouth full of toast. “Just had to get out for a bit. Angelina's scourgified the flat so many times the paint's coming off. I thought she was supposed to be making it more homey. It's like living in St. Mungo's.”
Neville made an odd little choking sound, that he didn't mean to make, and Charlie lightly touched his hand. Fred looked over at him.
“Hello, Neville,” Fred said, then turned back to his mother. “Any word from George? I hope they catch that snorkack. I'm dying to see one.”
“Fred!” Mrs. Weasley said, turning and glaring at him.
“What?” Fred said. “What'd I say?”
“What's a snorkack?” Neville asked Charlie. Charlie shrugged.
“It's, well . . .” he started.
“You know Luna, don't you?” Fred said. “Surely you've heard her talk about the crumple-horned snorkack.”
“Oh, yeah,” Neville said. “But they aren't real.”
“I wish you two would stop talking about her like that!” Mrs. Weasley said, turning her attention back to them.
“Which two?” Fred asked.
“Me?” Neville said, immediately after Fred. “I didn't mean . . . I like Luna . . . but they aren't real, are they?”
“Of course they aren't,” Fred said, though his mother was giving him a particularly nasty look. “It's not like she's here, is it? Besides, she knows no one believes in those things.”
“Any more expected for tea, Mum?” Charlie asked, to change the subject. Neville was slightly alarmed. He hadn't expected anyone but Charlie's parents, and he was hoping Fred would leave.
“No,” Mrs. Weasley said. “Your father was supposed to come, but something came up at work.”
“I'll stay for tea,” Fred said. “Haven't had a proper tea in ages. It makes Angelina come over queasy.”
“If it's all right with Charlie and Neville,” Mrs. Weasley said.
“'Course it is,” Fred said, before either could answer. “What are you doing here, anyway, Neville?”
“Well, I . . . well . . .”
“Neville and I are a couple,” Charlie said.
“A couple of what?” Fred asked.
“A couple of wizards who know a fair bit more than you,” Charlie said. “Are you actually that dense or are you doing an impression of Ron?”
Fred looked offended. “My Ron is loads better than that.”
“You could have fooled me,” Charlie said. For a moment, no one said anything. Mrs. Weasley was staring at Charlie and Neville with a rather odd expression on her face.
“Charlie and I are dating,” Neville said, quickly. “We live together.” For a moment, no one said anything.
"That isn't a very funny joke, boys," Mrs. Weasley said. Neville nearly disapparated, but he'd probably splinch himself. And besides, Charlie had his hand on his, and that helped, a little.
"It isn't a joke," Charlie said. "We're serious."
"You're serious? But, Charlie dear . . . have you thought this through? You know it's just not . . . it isn't very common, and . . ."
"There's nothing to think about," Charlie said. "Neville and I love each other, Mum, and if you can't accept that than I am more than willing to pull a Percy, and go." Mrs. Weasley blinked, shocked. Neville turned to Charlie.
"I don't want that," he said. "You know I don't."
"I only want to know if you're sure, Charlie," Mrs. Weasley said. "Because you know there are a lot of nice witches who would love-"
"I'm sure," Charlie said. Mrs. Weasley frowned, then turned to Neville.
"And are you sure, dear?" she asked him. Neville nodded.
"More sure than I've ever been," he said.
There was another quiet moment, then suddenly Mrs. Weasley rushed at him, squeezing him. Neville had been wrong. She wasn't going to shout at him, she was going to suffocate him.
“Charlie Weasley,” she said, still squeezing Neville. “You might have said something before now, you know.”
Fred was laughing. “You'd better let up, Mum. I don't think Neville can breath.”
“Oh, of course.” Mrs. Weasley said, letting go of Neville. “Now let's see . . . I'll have to send an owl to Ron and Hermione, and Harry and Ginny, and-”
“After tea, Mum,” Charlie said. Fred was still laughing to himself. Neville didn't know why, but he wished he would stop. He suspected that Fred was laughing at him for some reason, and Charlie wasn't doing anything about it. He was busy talking to his mother about something.
“Fred, just what do you think you're laughing at?” Mrs. Weasley asked, finally.
“Nothing,” Fred said, gaining control over himself. “Nothing at all.”
I suppose it could have been worse. I don't know how good a job I did and apparently Neville's POV here means I have to call Molly "Mrs. Weasley" constantly. Plus, I don't think he honestly thought she meant to suffocate him.
-Amelia
P.S. I started another story that follows this . . .
The blame is entirely mine on this. It's not
miss_elisha's fault at all. Though it's highly influenced by her, and even though, you know, she made me do it by mentioning it, and all. And even after I'd written it I didn't want to post it, but . . . well, if I can do a strip tease in front of a live audience, I can post this where I don't even have to have creepy old ladies come up to me after the play is over, and . . . well, anyway!
And Fred basically took this over.
There's Something I Could Name This But I Don't Wanna.
Ships (I AM NOT A SHIPPER): Charlie/Neville, mentioned Fred/Angelina, implied George/Luna.
Word Count: 775
“She's going to shout at me, isn't she?” Neville said.
“Who is?” Charlie asked.
“Your mum.”
“My mother is not going to yell at you,” Charlie said. “Why would she shout at you? Now, she might shout at me. I've certainly kept you to myself long enough.”
Neville certainly wouldn't have been surprised if Mrs. Weasley did shout at Charlie. He had gotten the impression from Ron and the twins that she shouted at her sons quite often. This wasn't a very encouraging thought.
“What was it you told her, again?”
“That I'd be bringing a friend for tea,” Charlie said, smiling at Neville before disapparating. For a brief moment Neville considered staying where he was, but he'd have to get it over with eventually, and it might as well be now.
Mrs. Weasley smiled at Neville, when he arrived. “Hello, dear,” she said. “Tea isn't quite ready, yet, but why don't you go ahead and have a seat.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Weasley,” he said, sitting in the chair next to Charlie. Before either of them could say anything more, Fred popped in, (Neville was fairly certain it was Fred), and grabbed a bit of toast.
“You don't live here, do you?” Charlie asked.
“'Course not,” Fred said, through a mouth full of toast. “Just had to get out for a bit. Angelina's scourgified the flat so many times the paint's coming off. I thought she was supposed to be making it more homey. It's like living in St. Mungo's.”
Neville made an odd little choking sound, that he didn't mean to make, and Charlie lightly touched his hand. Fred looked over at him.
“Hello, Neville,” Fred said, then turned back to his mother. “Any word from George? I hope they catch that snorkack. I'm dying to see one.”
“Fred!” Mrs. Weasley said, turning and glaring at him.
“What?” Fred said. “What'd I say?”
“What's a snorkack?” Neville asked Charlie. Charlie shrugged.
“It's, well . . .” he started.
“You know Luna, don't you?” Fred said. “Surely you've heard her talk about the crumple-horned snorkack.”
“Oh, yeah,” Neville said. “But they aren't real.”
“I wish you two would stop talking about her like that!” Mrs. Weasley said, turning her attention back to them.
“Which two?” Fred asked.
“Me?” Neville said, immediately after Fred. “I didn't mean . . . I like Luna . . . but they aren't real, are they?”
“Of course they aren't,” Fred said, though his mother was giving him a particularly nasty look. “It's not like she's here, is it? Besides, she knows no one believes in those things.”
“Any more expected for tea, Mum?” Charlie asked, to change the subject. Neville was slightly alarmed. He hadn't expected anyone but Charlie's parents, and he was hoping Fred would leave.
“No,” Mrs. Weasley said. “Your father was supposed to come, but something came up at work.”
“I'll stay for tea,” Fred said. “Haven't had a proper tea in ages. It makes Angelina come over queasy.”
“If it's all right with Charlie and Neville,” Mrs. Weasley said.
“'Course it is,” Fred said, before either could answer. “What are you doing here, anyway, Neville?”
“Well, I . . . well . . .”
“Neville and I are a couple,” Charlie said.
“A couple of what?” Fred asked.
“A couple of wizards who know a fair bit more than you,” Charlie said. “Are you actually that dense or are you doing an impression of Ron?”
Fred looked offended. “My Ron is loads better than that.”
“You could have fooled me,” Charlie said. For a moment, no one said anything. Mrs. Weasley was staring at Charlie and Neville with a rather odd expression on her face.
“Charlie and I are dating,” Neville said, quickly. “We live together.” For a moment, no one said anything.
"That isn't a very funny joke, boys," Mrs. Weasley said. Neville nearly disapparated, but he'd probably splinch himself. And besides, Charlie had his hand on his, and that helped, a little.
"It isn't a joke," Charlie said. "We're serious."
"You're serious? But, Charlie dear . . . have you thought this through? You know it's just not . . . it isn't very common, and . . ."
"There's nothing to think about," Charlie said. "Neville and I love each other, Mum, and if you can't accept that than I am more than willing to pull a Percy, and go." Mrs. Weasley blinked, shocked. Neville turned to Charlie.
"I don't want that," he said. "You know I don't."
"I only want to know if you're sure, Charlie," Mrs. Weasley said. "Because you know there are a lot of nice witches who would love-"
"I'm sure," Charlie said. Mrs. Weasley frowned, then turned to Neville.
"And are you sure, dear?" she asked him. Neville nodded.
"More sure than I've ever been," he said.
There was another quiet moment, then suddenly Mrs. Weasley rushed at him, squeezing him. Neville had been wrong. She wasn't going to shout at him, she was going to suffocate him.
“Charlie Weasley,” she said, still squeezing Neville. “You might have said something before now, you know.”
Fred was laughing. “You'd better let up, Mum. I don't think Neville can breath.”
“Oh, of course.” Mrs. Weasley said, letting go of Neville. “Now let's see . . . I'll have to send an owl to Ron and Hermione, and Harry and Ginny, and-”
“After tea, Mum,” Charlie said. Fred was still laughing to himself. Neville didn't know why, but he wished he would stop. He suspected that Fred was laughing at him for some reason, and Charlie wasn't doing anything about it. He was busy talking to his mother about something.
“Fred, just what do you think you're laughing at?” Mrs. Weasley asked, finally.
“Nothing,” Fred said, gaining control over himself. “Nothing at all.”
I suppose it could have been worse. I don't know how good a job I did and apparently Neville's POV here means I have to call Molly "Mrs. Weasley" constantly. Plus, I don't think he honestly thought she meant to suffocate him.
-Amelia
P.S. I started another story that follows this . . .