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Harry Potter and Ghosts of the Past by Sebastian07
Chapter 6 : Pissed
 
Rating: MatureChapter Reviews: 2


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 Chapter Six:  Pissed


Pissed. He was definitely pissed, but he wasn't so thick headed that he couldn't recognize what he had done - again. He understood what they were doing, but he was still pissed. He could be pissed, it was a natural reaction, and he relied that he would eventually get over and come to terms with it, but that was later. Right now he was just plain pissed. Pissed at them. Pissed at himself. Pissed at the Aurors outside his house, holding him prisoner here. He couldn't go after them even if he wanted to.

Harry would go. Harry would find a way around them. Harry did go – he did find a way...

It had happened again. He had sworn before to himself that it would never happen again. He had left them. No. They had left him. Ron chucked the black knight across his bedroom in frustration.

It was late, nearly eleven at night. He wondered where in the world Harry and Hermione were right then. In Australia? No, not yet. He couldn't stand the thought of them, out there together, without him, alone, together. Ron shoved himself up off his bed. He needed something to eat.

He made his way to the kitchen and used his wand to put together a sandwich. He'd become quite practiced at this by now and did it skillfully with only the moon's light peaking in from the window above the sink. Just as he was about to bite in, something startled him from his peripheral.

"Oi!" Ron jumped as a shadow crept across the living room.

"Sshh!!" the figure hushed him furiously. Bang! "Ow!" it ran into the coffee table.

"Luminos," Ron lifted his wand, shedding light on a grumbling George who was busy rubbing at his shin.

"Oi, mind snuffing that light?!" George cut at him in a loud whisper. Ron let it extinguish as he crossed from the kitchen to the living room.

"What are you doing?!" Ron demanded .

"Getting out of here," George hobbled his way over to the fireplace, taking the lid from the jar of floo powder.

"Getting out of here? Where to?!" Ron accidentally raised an excited voice that produced a scowl from his brother.

"Keep it down, will ya?! I'm meeting up with Lee Jordan - he knows of some party," George looked back over his shoulder. He hesitated before he tossed the powder in. "You coming, little brother?" he asked Ron with a devious smile.

"They've got a tracer on the floo, they'll know we left..." Ron seemed hesitant.

"They'll know we left when they don't find us here in the morning, you git!" George chastised him. "And I don't give two Blast-Ended Skewrts! I've had just about enough of all this dodginess. We won, fair and square – and what are we doing now, I ask you? Still hiding like mice, as if expecting an army of Death Eaters at any moment. It's bullshit - I'm done - it's time to celebrate. I don't know about you but I feel it's right about time to get thoroughly pissed!" George flashed his brother a smile.

Pissed. Hearing his brother's reasoning, Ron didn't have to think twice.

. . . .

After flooing to the Shop with George, the two changed into some of their finer digs before apparating to downtown London to meet up with Lee Jordan. Lee then escorted them to the west of town, to Charing Street, right off of Leicester Square.

"You sure this is the right place?" Ron asked hesitantly, eying an ominous entryway.

"Yep!" Lee said merrily. "Most happenin' place in town!"

Ron looked from the hollow entrance which was veiled in darkness, up to the rotting sign that hung above it. "The Dueling Damsels: Enter at Your Own Risk!" Ron was of half a mind to heed the warning, but neither George nor Lee seemed phased in the slightest by it.

"Shall we, gentlemen?" George led the way. Hidden within the shadows, a wide, winding staircase led them down a level below the street. It emptied into a small chamber with a large, rusted door on the far side. Lee knocked on it.

They were left waiting several minutes before the metal eye slot screeched back. "Wha'd ya want?!" two amber eyes glared out the peep hole at them.

"We're here for the party," Lee called out.

"Ain't no pardy here!" the wizard inside said with a heavy Scottish accent as he started to slam the hole's cover back closed, but then abruptly stopped it half-way. "Say... ain't you tha' red headed Golden Trio boy?" the man's eyes locked onto Ron. "Yeah, Runald Wezley..."

The three outside weren't given a chance to respond. The peep hole was snatched closed again, but no sooner they heard the clank and clunk of the doors bolts turning from the other side. The large door's hinges groaned loudly as it swung open.

A wall of music and a roaring crowd struck them all at once. "Well I'll be a pickling pixy! If you ain't one of 'em, then I'm Fudge!" the amber eyed wizard buzzed, standing in the door way. He was well rounded and plump, with a thick set of strawberry hair pulled back into a pony tail and a matching goatee that hung braided down to his chest. Looking across the three of them, he first swept forward to take Ron's hand.

"Welcom' to the Dueling Damsels, gentlemen!" the wizard was all smiles. "I'm Dugger, manager of this fine establishment! It's a pleasure to have ya, come in, come in!" Dugger herded the three inside and latched the metal door back closed behind them.

All three were lost in amazement at the club from inside. They had only traveled one level down, but the cavernous ceiling appeared to be three stories high. And Ron had never seen so many witches and wizards in one place in his life! Well, not since the Quidditch World Cup at least. There had to be well over a couple thousand inside.

A sea of bodies swayed to the pulse of the deafening music. The lighting was dim, but neons and lasers shown from every direction, reflecting off their sweating, swaying forms. From one end of the club, Ron could see what looked like foam spewing from a fountain, bathing all the dancers around it.

Elsewhere, others were floating in mid-air like the bubbles of the foam. From the long bar to the left, Ron spotted another pair each throw back a shot, before slamming the glasses down as a huge burst of flame pillared from each of their mouths as they belched.

"Ginger! Ginger, come here darling!" Ron heard Dugger yell over the music as he led them to a small group of people.

At the manager's beckoning, a tall and slender red headed witch came out of nowhere to their side. "Yes, Dugger?" her voice sang like the chords of a harp.

"Ah, Ginger!" Dugger turned for her. "Do you see who I have here?!" he shoved George and Ron forward with a beaming grin. Ginger's jaw first dropped, before she finally recovered, pulling it into a wide, seductive smile.

"I do believe I recognize you from somewhere?" she toyed with them at first, beating her lashes seductively. "You must be Ronald Weasley, yeah?" she stepped towards him, holding out her small, delicate hand. "I'm Ginger."

It was now Ron's turn to gawk. The redheaded girl was nothing short of stunning, and Ron could not prevent his lewd gaze from trailing up and down her slender body before settling on her ample cleavage.

Black stilleto's accentuated her long smooth legs. A black leather mini-skirt showcased her flowing hips, and a red corset bound her slender torso, pushing up her large breasts. "It... it's j-just Ron..." he said in something of a mumble as he took her hand.

Ginger's eyebrows raised and she giggled and blushed from Ron's overtness.

"Never mind my little brother, gorgeous, he's still learning. I'm George Weasley, Ron's older, and much more attractive, brother," George offered her his hand with a wink. "It's a pleasure to meet you," he said with a half bow.

"Ah, is that so?!” she laughed gaily, taking George's hand while batting her lashes at him. George's eyes went hazy.

"And you are?" she finally turned to Lee Jordan. He didn't move. He just stood there, gawking like an idiot at the goddess before him. George nudged him.

"Huh? Yeah, er - what..?" Lee stammered. All four erupted with laughter.

"They're to be our honored guests tonight!" Dugger bellowed over the noise. "Get 'em set up in a nice spot and all the drinks they can guzzle! Their money is no good here!" The three boys beamed at his words. It was going to be a good night.

The lovely Ginger hooked her arms in between George and Ron's as she led them away. Lee followed close behind, his eyes bobbing with the waves of Ginger's hips, while Dugger held up the rear.

The mob of witches and wizards parted like the Red Sea before them. Conversations ground to a halt, dancers froze, the clumsiest spilled their drinks, as all that were in their sphere stopped to gawk at the stunning redhead and the one they recognized of the Golden Trio.

"Do you always cause a scene like this?" Ginger teased Ron, whispering close to his ear.

"W-wouldn't know..." Ron stammered from the shivers running down him from her proximity. "Been running for my life most the last year..." Ron smiled goofily and waved at some of their admirers. He thought he saw one young witch faint.

"And this is your first night out since the end of the war?!" Ginger gasped in disbelief.

"Been the Ministry's prisoner for the last three days. George and I had to sneak out tonight."

"Well this is a special treat then!" Ginger glowed as she led them up to the balcony that wound around the perimeter of the vast club.

"Yes it is..." Ron eyed her chest once again.

"What's that?" Ginger asked him with a smile.

"Er - I said this is a nice place you have here..."

Ginger raised a brow at him as his eyes flashed away from her cleavage with embarrassment, but she only giggled in response.

Halfway down the long balcony, Ginger led them into a secluded nook that looked out over the center of the dance floor. A sea of bodies swayed below them to the rhythm of the blaring music. It was a magical sight.

When Ron turned back around, the before empty table was now covered with beer and whiskey, and frosted bottles of liquor and champagne set in silver buckets of ice with crystal glasses readied beside them.

"Can I make you a drink?" Ginger asked him, leaning in close with a soft hand on his chest.

"Er... yeah, butterbeer?" Ron blushed.

"Ha!" Ginger laughed, slapping him playfully across his chest. "You're funny, I like you!" she winked at him before she turned to the low table.

Ginger bent gracefully over, bending at the hips, giving the gawking Ron, George, and Lee Jordan a nice view of her voluptuous rump.

"Ew-la-la!" George wiggled his eyebrows as he slapped Ron on the arm with the back of his hand.

"Here, try this..." Ginger turned back around, surprised, as the three scrambled back into an orderly manner, all trying their best not to erupt in laughter. Ginger stepped forward, flashing them each a knowing glance.

"You look like a scotch kind of a man to me," she crooked a narrow brow as she handed him the drink. She eyed him expectantly as he took a sip.

As the golden brown liquid spilled onto his tongue and ran scorching down his throat, Ron was positive his ears were spitting out flame. He had to screw his eyes and take a deep, calming breath, but when he did... the warm liquid flushed through him, erupting his senses and broke down barriers he never knew existed.

"Tha's great!" Ron glowed.

"And you, brother George, what will you be having?" she looked coyly to him.

"I'll have the same, if you please?"

Just then Dugger stepped up to the the edge of the railing running about the balcony, looking out over the dance floor. "Eh hem!" he held his wand to his neck as he cleared his throat, echoing it loudly across the club. "PLEASE!" he bellowed in his loud, booming voice. "If I could have everyone's attention! - Zed, the music!" he slashed his free hand across his throat, signaling the emcee to kill it. The music screeched to a halt and the sea of people groaned with disappointment.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but this is very important!" Dugger went on as all faces turned to his. "We've all been blessed by a very important guest tonight - none other than one of the Golden Trio, Ron Weasley!" Dugger leaned over and pulled Ron forward.

The crowd went wild with the sight of him. Led by Dugger, they began chanting "Weasley - Weasley - Weasley!" like booming canons, rattling the walls. Ron shimmered with pride. He waved to the mob below, feeding them, driving them insane.

His conscience flickered to Hermione. If she and Harry could see him now... she'd skin him alive, showing off like this. But why not?! Where's the harm in it? He had earned it. He was one of the Golden Trio after all. Ron pumped a fist into the air. The sea exploded in cheers.

"Defender of Great Britain!" Dugger thrust his filled mug into the air. "Defeater of He-Who-must-Not-Be-Named, we salute you!"

"Salute!" the room echoed in a deafening cheer. Ron glanced beside him to see a beaming Ginger and a smiling George and Lee Jordan lifting their mugs towards him as well. All the room downed their drinks.

"Next round's on the house!" Dugger yelled out as the music came back on. The sea erupted into new waves and howling winds once more.

Ron's narrow experience with intoxicating drinks grew exponentially with each passing hour. There was no more mention of butterbeer.

“So how'd ya hear of this place, Lee?” Ron hiccuped.

“Mundungus Fletcher, oddly enough. Told me I had to check it out!” Lee gleamed back at him from the sofa with two beauties wrapped around either of his arms.

“Will have'ta buy him a beer!” Ron smiled behind his monstrous saucer of a mug. White foam and golden liquid sloshed out as he swayed drunkenly in his seat.

His gaze wandered over to George as he whispered into a young lass's ear. He was getting to see a side of his brother he'd never seen before, and though he'd never think to describe it with such a word, it was endearing.

Growing up, the seven Weasley children had all split into their own cliques, Percy being the odd man out of course. Bill and Charlie, the two eldest, were naturally the closest to each other. George and Fred had been happy to use Ron as their guinea pig, but there is simply nothing as strong as a twins' bond. George and Fred had been as thick as thieves. Ron and Ginny being the youngest, had ultimately paired to be the final clique.

Fred... Ron loathed. Sitting there, watching George, it was as if there was a piece of him missing. It was hard for Ron to think of a time they hadn't been together.

Since that fateful night, Ron hadn't yet had the chance to talk with his brother about Fred. What, between the investigators, Healers, and reporters, he hadn't much of a chance to talk to anyone. 'Harry, Hermione...' his mind wandered further and he frowned a deep frown.

“Something wrong, hun?” a ringing voice pulled him back.

Ron glanced up at the approaching Ginger. She was magnificent, in every meaning of the word.

Already tossed, Ron simply leaned right over and pulled her to him without pause. “Butter now!” Ron hiccuped again. Ginger threw her head back, laughing gaily as she pressed her body up against his.

“Here,” she leaned out to the table and poured them each a shot. Ron took it without question, saluting her before throwing it back in one quick motion. The burn of it's liquid caught in his throat, bending him over. Ron coughed heavily, pounding his chest a few good times with his fist. Damn that feels good!

"Oi, little bro!" George slapped him on the back merrily, sloshing the drink in his hand. "You're gonna drink us all under the table!"

"Yeah!" Lee seconded him. "Save some for us!" They were all three thoroughly pissed.

"Than's fer bringin' me out!" Ron cheersed them with his mug as they took their shots of Firewhiskey. "Jus' what I neededed!" he slurred drunkenly.

"Think it's what we all needed, mate!" Lee slapped him on the back.

Just then a hand caught Ron by the front of the shirt. He startled, his eyes springing forward to the owner of the hand. Two enchanting blue eyes pierced down into his.

"Come on," Ginger hauled him to his feet.

"Buh..." Ron stammered, looking back to the frowning ladies he was leaving behind at their table.

Before Ron knew what hit him, Ginger spun around and thrust her lips up against his unsuspecting ones, crushing them together. He almost fainted from a loss of breath. His head went spinning, and more so from just the alcohol.

As soon as Ron could figure out what was going on, as he felt Ginger's perfect body pressing against his, her lips massaging his own, he wrapped his arms around her and began to respond to her invading tongue. Ron forgot who he was.

Ginger pulled away gasping. "You've had your arse glued to that seat all night mister. I think it's about time for you to stretch those legs of yours. Follow me," Ginger towed him by the hand, leading him down the stairs and into the sea on the dance floor. Ron followed like a little puppy dog.

Ron lost himself out there with Ginger for what felt like hours and yet only minutes at the same time.  He didn't even know that he could dance, but with all the alcohol and Ginger leading him, he felt like he could do anything.

It was in the wee hours of the morning that she finally led him back to the bar where they found his brother and Lee Jordan and ordered another round of shots.

"Come on little bro, we've got one more stop before we call it a night," George and Lee began getting ready to leave.

"You're not leaving me now, are you Ronnie?" Ginger curled herself in close to him. As her scent infected him, Ron mumbled something incoherently about staying.

"Hey Ginger,” George spoke up in the absence of his idiotic brother. “This is something important to us, but I like you and you're welcome to tag along if you wish - should be fun," he finished with a mischievous grin.

. . . . .

They all four managed to stumble back to the street before George apparated them without explaining a thing further. Ron recognized the place immediately though. It was Pick's Hill, where they'd laid Fred to rest only a day before.

"G-George?" Ron asked hesitantly, but his brother wasn't listening to him. George walked away from the rest, his eyes locked onto the tombstone before them.

"Lee," George finally said solemnly.

"Right," Lee Jordan sprang to action. Ron and Ginger watched him as he retrieved a large stash of fireworks and helped George arrange them about Fred's resting place.

George then stood back up at his fallen brothers side and summoned a bottle of Firewhiskey he'd brought with him. He first turned it up into the air to his lips, taking several gigantic gulps before he then held it out before himself, committing the rest of the brown liquid to the ground covering Fred.

"For you brother, sending you off in style." George did not even bother moving. Ron and Lee both jumped when George waved his wand, but there was nothing they could do at that point. All the fireworks went off at once.

The bangs and explosions were deafening as twizzlers and twirlers went off all around George and Fred, consuming them in a blinding light. Rockets blasted off and whizzed in every direction as the sky was soon filled with every color imaginable.

The show was massive and went on for nearly five minutes. Ron held Ginger close as they stared up at the night sky in awe. George had outdone himself. Images so realistic they could have been a slide show of Fred's life. Crawling, his first wand, their first time at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, Hogwarts, their experimental alchemy set, various pranks and incantations, the dragon that swallowed that toad Umbridge, Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, Hero.

The darkness returned as the final sparks drifted down like sifting flakes and finally snuffed out altogether. George was slightly smoldering, but appeared otherwise alright, still standing there, staring down at his lost half. Ron stepped forward, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Goodbye Fred, until we see you again."

Ron apparated them all back to George's.

 

 

 

 


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