A/N: I hope y'all like this; these are the first lot of HP fanfics I've written, so I hope they're good. This chapter was originally going to be chapter two, but Love from a Muggle wanted to see it, because I got my inspiration for this fic from her story "Crush".
Disclaimer: I do not, unfortunately, own any of the characters, as much as I may wish to the contrary.
Put On A Show
I sure as hell never planned this. Never planned on falling in love with my little brother's best friend. Never planned on falling in love full stop, if I'm honest, at least not for a few years. I couldn't help it though; she's just so perfect – for me at least. I know it sounds more than a little clichéd, but it's true. Unfortunately, it's also true that I have no idea how to tell her. I know I need to, though, and soon.
It's taken a long time, and way more thought than I ever put into any of my school work to come up with my plan.
To anyone else, it may seem obvious: I would put on the sort of show George and I were famous for; everything would be designed to show her I loved her. It took so long to decide on the plan simply because I know how she feels about my joking around. I want her to know all about me, not just that one aspect, the public front. At the same, I don't want to have to change myself, no matter how much I love her. In the end, the latter desire outweighed the former, and I knew I should really put on a show. Besides, Ginny said every girl likes to be made a fuss of. She should know, I suppose.
I'm really pulling out all the stops here, so I've asked everyone for some help. And by everyone, I mean everyone: George, of course, my prank-pulling partner extraordinaire; Ron and Harry – they are her best friends, after all; Ginny, my go-to guy (or rather, gal) for things like this; Bill and Charlie, because, as much as I hate to admit it, they may know slightly more than I do in this instance; heck, even mum and dad are in on it. I want her to know, but no one else, so I have to be subtle, and subtlety requires research. The spectacular is my forte; let's just hope I'm as good at subtle.
Everything's in place. Tomorrow, just after dinner, is D-Day.
I got detention out of it, but it was totally worth it. When Dumbledore asked who was responsible, I owned up straight away. I was considerably too happy to care. I thought I might have gotten away with it as well, because he only laughed when I said why I'd done it; but Snape insisted I have detention anyway.
Operation Subtle and Spectacular was a complete success. Harry and Ron lured her up to the Charms corridor, last night's stage, after dinner, and I set everything in motion.
The air filled with the scent of newly-cut grass and fresh parchment, and three silvery balloons floated to the ceiling where they began to play what I knew was her favourite piece of music. A thousand stars shot from the ceiling and took the forms of otters, dancing along the corridor; red-and-gold streamers twined into the shape of hearts and, last of all – the glacé cherry on top of the cake – sixty books flew from their shelves around the school, sixty books that I knew she loved, and formed the words "I LOVE YOU", hanging suspended in the air.
Half the school was there at the time, stopped stock-still as they watched the plot of my show unfold. I studied her expression carefully the whole time, and watched as she went from anger to confusion to, finally, flushed happiness. I saw her drop her bags as the otters and hearts disintegrated and the books flew back to their shelves; the muffled thud it made suddenly loud in the silence created as the balloons began to float away. As everyone turned towards her, I saw her turn this way and that until we locked eyes and she ran full-pelt towards me.
We looked at each other for several long, drawn-out minutes.
I offered a weak "ta-dah!" and gestured with my hands. She looked at me like I was being stupid. Which I was.
"Why didn't you say," she breathed.
"I just did," I said.
She was about to argue but she was cut off as our lips – finally – met in a kiss.
Someone behind us wolf-whistled, and she broke away from me.
"Shut up Ron," she said, reaching into her pocket, pulling a small book from her pocket and throwing it at him. It hit him square between the eyes.
"Hey," he yelled as Harry roared with laughter, "It wasn't me!"
"All right, people," George said, appearing from no where, "show's over. Let's leave them to it. It'd put you off, having everyone staring at you."
As people slowly began to melt away, I mouthed a quick word of thanks to my twin, then pulled Hermione close,
"Now," I said once I was sure we were alone. "How about we try that again?"