Characters: Ron Weasley, the Fat Lady
Disclaimer: JKR owns. I only play. You do not sue.
Length: 570 words
Summary: All of the portaits at Hogwarts have their own distinct personalities.
Note: Originally written for a drabble contest at hogwarts_elite. First place winner.
Concrit: Always welcome and appreciated.
The Fat Lady was startled awake by the sound of muttering at her portrait. She opened one eye and saw a red-haired boy from sixth year pacing in circles outside the common room. He couldn't have forgotten the password -- she'd just let him in and back out not an hour ago. She focused on him with considerable interest.
He was a very lanky boy, quite tall even for his age. His hair was the kind of red that would undoubtedly stop horse-carts, though the Lady supposed there were fancier means of transport around nowadays. She followed his pacing with fascination, still peeking out of one eye. She couldn't remember what it was like to walk on a floor -- all the walking she did was along the magical paths that connected portraits, and that didn't quite feel like real walking.
The wooden floor creaked under the boy's feet, obscuring what he was saying. The Fat Lady strained to listen.
"Will you go out with me... no, no... Will you have a Butterbeer at the... no... Will you accompany... this shouldn't be so hard... will you come to the Three Broomsticks... ugh..." he murmured over and over again, with slight variations in the phrasing.
Ron Weasley! That was the name! The Fat Lady smiled indulgently. She couldn't always keep the names straight but the hair, and the figure, and the voice -- they all added up to Ron Weasley. All the other Weasley boys had already left the school, and Ron was the last man standing, so to speak. Poor boy was rehearsing his lines for asking out a girl. The Fat Lady hoped he'd say her name so she could tell her friend Violet about the new development in Gryffindor love lives.
He didn't, though, just kept pacing and muttering to himself, his ears turning red. He rubbed the back of his neck vigorously, causing it to turn an even brighter shade of red than the ears. The Fat Lady watched with rapt attention. She rubbed her finger across her own pudgy arm, but it didn't turn red. She sighed. There was something to be said for being a portrait -- you didn't change colour unless someone took up paint and a brush.
"Hey Ron! Ron!" came a voice from further down the hallway. The Fat Lady didn't recognise it, and she cursed her rotten portrait luck. She wanted to know who Ron was talking to, but she couldn't very well lean out to see, and walking to the next painting on the wall might mean she'd miss everything. Meanwhile, Ron had stopped pacing and was looking in the direction the voice had come from. His mouth was hanging slightly open and he had a glassy-eyed look on his face.
"Yeah?" he said, grinning sheepishly at someone the Fat Lady couldn't see. It was a girl, that much she could hear. But who?
"I was wondering if you'd already made plans for the Hogsmeade weekend," said the girl's voice. The Fat Lady strained to place it, but couldn't. She wished the girl would come into view already.
Ron's entire face turned a deep maroon. "No, not yet," he mumbled.
"Great! So will you come with me then?"
Ron could only nod.
The Fat Lady smiled and leant back in her chair. She'd see who it was soon enough. Until then, she'd taunt Violet with "I know something you don't know."