A Day With the Weasleys
by American Hermione

Disclaimer: All of the characters you recognize belong to J.K. Rowling. All else belongs to me. Set in the summer before 5th year.

The first day I met the Weasleys was the most interesting of my clothing career. How was I to know my life would soon take a turn? There I was, sitting peacefully on a shelf in "Rowena's Ravishing Robes", when suddenly I was snatched up by a pleasant-looking red haired woman in a distinct checkered apron. Oh, yes, it was Molly Weasley... and she had me packaged and paid for so fast I hardly had a chance to bid my birthplace adieu.

On the way to my new home, I had a very interesting chat with the apron. It seems that Mrs. Weasley is not all she seems... but that's quite another story. I also talked awhile with Molly's rather loquacious dress, which was covered with bright pink flowers.

"So, you'll be coming to live with the Weasleys too," she said. "They are, if nothing else, a very interesting family... any idea which Weasley you're destined to clothe? Just hope on your life it's not one of the twins, Fred or George... I've heard from some of their robes in the clothes hamper, and they were simply riddled with burn marks and ink stains and worse!" She harrumphed and started again before I could fit a word in edgewise. "Why, I heard that they enchanted those poor things to bits... one told me a horrendous story about the time they tried to turn him into an exploding handkerchief. 'To this day,' he said, 'to this day I cannot look at noses without shivering.' No, I wouldn't wish that on any piece of attire."

Then we suddenly were at the Burrow- the Weasley home. A girl with flaming red hair ran outside, a very frustrated expression clouding her features.

"Mum! Muuuuuuum! Fred and George have built a troll-repelling bridge in the yard! It's horrid... they've torn up the garden...stunned trolls are all over..."

Mrs. Weasley shrugged, sighed, and handed me over to her daughter.

"I'll check on them, Ginny, don't worry. Would you be a dear and take Ron's new robes up to his room?"

I sighed. No twins. Everything would be all right- or so I thought.

Ron Weasley looked all right at first... tall, freckled, smiling.

"Finally, Mum got me some decent robes!" he said to himself. He tried me on. This would have been perfectly fine with me, except for the fact that Ron had just returned from a Quidditch practice with his friend Harry Potter, who was visiting for the summer. Ron was covered in sweat and grime, and I shuddered as he pulled me over his wet red locks.

Ron glanced in the mirror. "Not half bad..." he muttered.

Suddenly I heard Mrs. Weasley's voice coming up the stairwell.

"RON! Hermione's here! She just arrived! Get down here!"

"All right, Mum." Ron yelled. He frantically tugged at my seams and ran a hand through his nasty hair, absently wiping it on me. Ugh! The horror!

"Hermione! Hermione's here!" he whispered. "Pull yourself together, Weasley, it's just Granger," he said, blushing in the mirror.

He ran down the stairs, almost tripping over me in his haste, and I saw Hermione.

"Um, what's wrong, Hermione? You look a bit dazed."

She did, indeed. Her eyes were wide and blank, and she wore a simpering grin. Then Fred and George entered, choking back laughter.

"Looks as if our new anti-I.Q chocolates work!" laughed Fred.

"You didn't feed one of those things to HERMIONE?!?!?" screamed Ron. His brothers grinned and Ron flew at them. "I'll bloody KILL YOU!"

"Oh, Ron, you're so SILLY!" giggled Hermione. "Why would you do that? I am just..." she paused. "Just... fine!" She let out another obnoxious giggle.

Ron groaned and gripped my fabric hard in rage. "Oh, Hermione, you poor thing." He turned to the twins. "Why did you have to mess with her brain?" he said, fuming.

Hermione slowly pointed to the right side of her head.

"I'm not left-brained." she said.

"Oh, NO!" said Ron. "You've ruined her life! You've ruined my life!" He stormed into his room, where he took me off and threw me to the ground after wiping his tears with my sleeve.

To my horror, he began stomping on me, while muttering curses at his brothers.

He stopped after using about 50 words I had never encountered before, and threw me into the corner, now dirty, bedraggled, and coming apart where he had repeatedly stomped. I was no longer a beautiful robe. I was a mess of rags. I bawled to myself in the corner, while Ron sobbed, his brothers snickered, and Hermione giggled. It was a dismal start to what would prove an interesting life.

A/N: *the end* (for now)...*sniff* Poor robe of ickle Ronniekins... What did you think? R/R please: casamanca@aol.com.

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