So, I dreamt that the Weasleys and Harry and Hermione were all staying at a grand Muggle hotel.
There are many bedrooms all adjoining one large living room, like the Gryffindor Common room only with less comfortable chairs and a lot of crisp white paint and soaring architecture. It's summer of first year, and in the dream, I'm Hermione: a tiny, bossy know-it-all in a long white nightgown, my puffy hair down past my shoulders. I dreamt I (as Hermione) was writing HP fic, in a story from George's POV. (Actually, I dreamt the fanfic she/I'd written before this part of the dream, so I was George, too, but I can't remember what happens, except that it was very gen). It seems I, as Hermione (and as me of course), feel that George is underrepresented, overshadowed by the more vigorous Fred. After all, in Goblet of Fire, Fred "drops" the Ton-Tongue Toffee so Dudley will swell, and he asks Angelina to the Ball, and it seems to me he also gets better lines. But George whomps Ron in the head with a snowball when Hermione leaves to prepare for the ball and Ron can't believe it will take her three hours to get ready... and so the story is about George. Harry and Ron are sharing a room, but Hermione and Ginny each have their own. George is out wandering the common room, also in a long white nightgown, and finds my story, handsomely formatted and carelessly sticking out of a book I'd left on the mantelpiece.
I squeak and die a thousand deaths and he catches my eye after reading a few lines (I'm peeking out my bedroom door), not sure if he should be angry yet. Before he can say anything, Mr. Weasley comes in, very reasonable but stern, prodding a guilty-looking Ron in front of him and handing him a dustpan and broom. Because we're in a Muggle hotel, Mr. Weasley has confiscated everyone's wands so there won't be any untoward magicking. George says something sympathetic, Ron looks mournful and gets to work. Mr. Weasley tells George he should get to bed, but instead, while his attention is on Ron, George slips into my room. It's supposed to be lights out, so George flops down on his belly to read the story in the light coming in under the door. Her waves me over and indicates I'm to sit beside him while he reads, and I figure it's so he can pinch me if he decides I deserve it. Of course, I have a little crush on George, and I'm also eleven, so it's a very flattering story. George is only maybe thirteen here, but he's older and I have a crush on him, so when I stretch out on the floor next to him so I can read over his shoulder, we're touching hip to hip and I'm all fluttery and thinking, "I'm lying down next to a
boy! In my
pajamas!"
Hee.
Fred goes first in Hal's perfectly perfect
Summer Thing too, but George is sweeter.
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