Lights!
Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize.
A/N: Just something I wrote to cheer myself up. My new dictation software crashed and it took a snippet I was writing down with it.
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"That's just GREAT, Hermione. Now what's Harry supposed to play Quidditch on? Tell us that, you're so smart!"
Hermione's mouth was pinched very tightly shut and her head was lowered though her eyes stared up with conviction. Harry could just make out the hastily hidden beginnings of tears reluctantly forming around her eyes. "I had no other choice. It wasn't safe."
"Whaddaya mean it wasn't safe?" demanded Ron. "It was a brand new, never before used Firebolt, for Merlin's sake. And speaking of that, what do YOU know about brooms!?"
"By not safe, I meant that I thought, and Professor McGonagall agrees, that Harry's new broom was sent by Sirius Black," she explained to Harry in a penitent tone.
Harry's eyes widened.
Hermione turned to the side to glare at Ron and said, "And as to brooms, I'll have you know that I researched everything I could about brooms, the Firebolt in particular, and I even wrote the company to ask additional questions." She poked Ron hard on the shoulder several times (and inwardly cringed at how filthy he was, she resolved to wash her hand several times once this was over). "Well? What do you have to say about that?" Far from the penitent and remorseful pose she'd struck when talking to Harry, now she seemed self-assured. Haughty almost…
Ron was scowling. "I know plenty about brooms! Charlie used to let me--" he started, but Hermione interrupted.
"Charlie? He's your brother isn't he? So, what you're saying is you don't actually own a broom, and if your grades are any indicator, then you couldn't research to save your life. Is that about the size of it?" She demanded.
Ron, face redder than even his hair, looked off to the side for a moment, his eyes motioned to Hermione and then the oddest thing happened. His mouth dropped open in disbelief. "It's NOT supposed to be like this." Ron bit out tersely.
"Tough." Hermione responded.
Clenching his fists in rage, Ron looked as if he was going to start screaming, but he saw Harry had positioned himself behind Hermione and the glare was scarily similar to how Harry had looked when Lockhart had betrayed them in the Chamber. "BE THAT WAY!" He declared for all the world to hear and then stormed off and out of view.
Harry looked genuinely confused. "What now?" He asked in an uncertain tone to Hermione.
"Are you mad at me, Harry?" Hermione asked, her timidity had returned in full force.
Harry ran a hand through his hair. "Well, no, not exactly. I mean, I would have preferred you actually asking first before doing what you did, but I guess I can understand the need. But…" and Harry trailed off.
"What? What? But what?" Hermione asked while clutching at his robes with both hands.
"Though I hate to admit it, Ron did have a point… besides the one on his head."
"Oh?" Hermione queried uncertainly. Ron actually having a point was a new proposition for her. "Explain."
"What am I going to ride?"
Eyebrows rising at the question, Hermione released his robes and slinked up to him. "If you want something to ride, then ride me." She said in a deeper, huskier tone than should have been possible for one so young. She then pressed her body into his.
Instinctively, Harry's arms went around her to draw her body closer.
Lips found lips and suddenly a loud voice filled the room. "CUT! CUT! That is SO not in the script!"
Harry and Hermione didn't seem to care.
The director, a man whose natural voice came in two flavors - loud and louder, screamed at his lead stars. "STOP IT YOU TWO! I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME! I GAVE YOU SOME LEEWAY FOR ARTISTIC PURPOSES BUT THIS ISN'T A LOVE SCENE! AND EVEN IF IT WERE, YOU TWO WOULDN'T BE THE ONES DOING THE KISSING!"
That stopped the young girl. "WELL, EXCUSE ME FOR WANTING TO KISS MY HUSBAND! IT'S NOT OUR FAULT THAT THE SCRIPT HAD BAD SOURCE MATERIAL!"
Much grumbling could be heard. "I AM NOT GETTING INTO ANOTHER ARGUMENT WITH YOU ABOUT PLOT HOLES AND INCONSISTENT CHARACTERISATION. IF I DID, THEN WE'D BE HERE ALL NIGHT. STOP ACTING LIKE YOUR 20 YEAR OLD SELVES AND START BEHAVING LIKE THE 13 YEAR OLD SELVES YOU'VE BEEN SPELLED TO APPEAR TO BE!"
"BUT--" Harry began.
"AND I DON'T CARE IF YOU ACTUALLY ACTED LIKE THAT WHEN YOU WERE 13. I NEED YOU TO FOLLOW THE SCRIPT. UNDERSTAND?"
"Yes, Director." They both simultaneously chorused. Stepping apart, the two straightened their appearances and went back to their marks.
The director palmed his head for a moment and then raised his megaphone again. "SOMEONE GET WHATSISNAME BACK ON SET! TELL HIM IF HES NOT BACK HERE IN FIVE THEN WE'RE GOING WITH ANOTHER ACTOR!"
"Again?" A small, useless peon asked.
The director pointed his megaphone directly at the over-reaching peon. "YES! AGAIN! Now, GO!"