Karaoke Night
Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter, though wouldn’t it be cool if I did? I also don’t own Moulin Rouge, though that would also be way cool.Rating: TEEN
Ron edged his way into the smoke-filled establishment, wondering how in the world Hermione knew of such a seedy place. Harry gave him a look that said he echoed that sentiment. Straight-laced and bookish girls never frequented bars. Well, at least Ron always thought so before now. Clearly he had been wrong. Anyhow, she never frequented bars when she was with him – was there another side to Hermione that Ron didn’t know about? A hot sensation flooded him and he suddenly realized he wouldn’t mind getting to know that side. Getting to know her wild side could be quite fun.
“Are you going in Ron or are you going to stand in the doorway all night?” Ron was knocked out of his reverie by his little sister’s voice. Ginny’s eyebrows were raised and she was tapping a foot impatiently.
Ron didn’t answer, but trod into the barroom, following in Hermione’s and Harry’s footsteps. Harry was looking out of place, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, and Hermione was bobbing up and down on tiptoe, clearly looking for something. And she had clearly found it. She clasped her hands together and said gleefully, “Oh, good! I knew it was tonight!”
“Cool,” said Ginny, joining Hermione and looking at a banner above a stage at the end of the barroom.
Ron squinted to read the bright red banner with white lettering through the cigarette smoke that hung thickly through the room like a fog.
“What is that supposed to mean, ‘Cara-oak Night’?” Ron asked, mispronouncing the word “karaoke.”
“It’s karaoke, Ron,” said Hermione, pronouncing the word precisely and with an air that said he should have known that.
Ron wanted to say “whatever” in response to the manner in which she had just addressed him, but thoughts of getting to know that wild side were still with him. Before he could ask her to kindly define what in Merlin’s name “karaoke” was, however, a large gorilla of a Muggle cornered the four of them.
“Show me some I.D.,” he growled.
Hermione pulled something out of her handbag and showed the brute. He scrutinized it and shoved it back at her. Ron considered saying something along the lines of “How dare you?” but his lank versus the brute’s brawn caused him to restrain himself.
“Er,” said Hermione as the brute eyed Harry, Ron and Ginny. “Do you have I.D. cards?”
“What?” muttered Ron. What in the world was an I.D. card? Must be another Muggle invention.
“Er, I think I do,” said Harry. He put his hand in the back pocket of his jeans and fished around, then pulled out a small card, similar to the one Hermione had just produced.
If I had had some warning on this, I could have tried to conjure one of those things up … they’re small. I may not have gotten an E in Transfiguration, but still …
“What about you, kid?” The brute was addressing Ron with a menacing expression on his ape-like face.
“Er … Ron and Ginny aren’t from around here. They’re, er … from New Zealand,” said Hermione quickly.
New Zealand? Was she barmy? That primate was going to have him out on his ear in half a second …
“New … Zeee?” said the brute.
“Zealand,” said Hermione. “They’re our age,” she added, gesturing to herself and Harry. “They just don’t have I.D. cards in … New Zealand.”
The brute was clearly thinking this over. Ron could see him screwing his face up as the little cogs in his head tried to fathom what Hermione had just told him. He looked a lot like Vincent Crabbe.
Then the brute cast a suspicious look at Ginny. “She doesn’t look your age.” Ginny tried to puff herself up to look taller, but it didn’t do much good. Five feet, three-and-a-half inches doesn’t look very big, even when puffed up.
“I’m sorry,” said Hermione. “She’s actually a year younger than us.” She feigned a smile, so as not to rub the brute the wrong way.
The brute made a grunting noise and picked something up off the bar top. “Gimme your hand, little girl,” he grumbled at Ginny. Ginny held her hand out weakly and Ron had the inclination to pull it away. He glanced at Harry, who looked the same. In fact, Ron clearly noticed him with his hand ready to grab his wand, which was concealed under his tee shirt. Way to go, mate, Ron thought smugly. I knew you’d warm up to her eventually.
Ron turned his attention back to the brute, who was now pounding something onto Ginny’s trembling hand.
“No alcohol for you,” he muttered and slumped away.
“Okay,” said Hermione brightly, as if nothing odd had just happened. Let’s find a table and I’ll find out when the karaoke starts.”
Harry led them to a table near the middle of the room; the only one left that sat four. Hermione walked over to the bar and started talking to the young bartender behind the counter.
“What the hell is karaoke?” asked Ron, as soon as Hermione was safely out of earshot.
“It’s a Muggle thing,” muttered Harry, looking like he’d rather be anywhere than in a smoke-filled bar. “It’s where you get up on stage and sing along to some ridiculous pop song …off-key.”
“I’m not doing that,” said Ron resolutely, looking aghast at the empty stage in front of him.
“Who’s going to make you?” said Ginny, looking longingly at the stage. “But I think I’ll give it a go. Do you think I’ll be able to do the Weird Sisters’ latest?”
“Doubt it, Ginny,” said Harry, looking at her with the first smile Ron had seen on his best mate’s face in a long while. “I think all they’ll have are Muggle tunes.”
Hermione returned, looking thrilled to pieces. “Good news,” she said happily. “They’re starting straight away. Mark said we should sign-up as soon as we can to get our places.”
“Who’s Mark?” asked Ron indignantly. “And sign up for what … not for this karaoke rubbish?”
“It’s not rubbish, Ron,” said Hermione exasperatedly. “It’s the reason we came here tonight.”
“I thought the reason we came here tonight was to get Harry out of the house!” As soon as the words spilled from his mouth, Ron regretted saying them. Harry hadn’t known that their sole purpose for hitting Muggle London was to get him to live life again. It had been long enough, after all. It was time to snap out of it.
Harry obviously wasn’t as dumb as Ron took him for. This news did not hit him like a ton of bricks. In fact, it didn’t faze him at all. Harry was fooling around with the corner of his napkin and looking at Ginny.
“Why don’t you and Hermione go sign-up and Ron and I will order some drinks?”
Ginny beamed at him. “Okay,” she said brightly. “Hermione and I’ll be right back.” She tugged Hermione by the arm before Ron could object.
“Who the hell is Mark?” Ron said, glowering.
***
After enduring about five Muggles as they warbled their way painfully through pop songs and show tunes, Ron chugged back the rest of his third beer and hoped the night was nearly over. His ears were throbbing dully from the last song, some wretched disco number the man on the stage announced as “Hot Stuff.”
Feedback from the man’s microphone resonated through the bar and Ron clutched his ears. He thought vaguely that it was going to take more than three beers to numb him to the horrendous sounds in this dive. He wondered if Mark, the obnoxiously good-looking bartender, had any Fire Whisky stashed back there.
“And our next participant this evening is …” The man on stage consulted his clipboard. “Miss Ginny Weasley!” Ron looked up at the man quickly and wanted to tell him no, his sister would most certainly not be participating. He had never actually thought Ginny’s and Hermione’s names would be called. And if Ginny were up now, Hermione would surely be next.
“Miss Weasley will be singing ‘Lady Marmalade’ for us this evening!” the man went on in a sickeningly bold voice.
Ginny hopped up from her seat and looked at them all. “Wish me luck,” she whispered.
“Good luck,” said Harry and Hermione. Ron merely gaped as she trod up the steps to the stage and grabbed the microphone from the man. He got a good look at her in the bright stage lights and realized the skirt she was wearing was way too short. And everyone could see. She had … legs. Obviously that fact had not been lost on Harry, who seemed unable to pry his eyes away as the music cued up.
As Ginny sang the lyrics, reading them from a small monitor on the end of the stage, Ron’s ears burned. Not because of the sounds coming out of his sister’s mouth – she was singing quite nicely, pitch-perfect and everything – but because of the words coming out of her mouth.
“What the hell is she singing?!” croaked Ron, ready to rip his little sister out of the limelight as Harry and every other male in the place eyed her wantonly.
“Hush, Ron!” spat Hermione. “She’s doing a good job.”
Yeah, thought Ron viciously. Of getting every guy in this place hot for her. He eyed Harry again – he was practically on the edge of his seat watching her. My own best mate, thought Ron miserably.
“What the hell does 'Voulez-vous coucher avec moi, ce soir' mean?” asked Ron, fumbling over the French appallingly.
“Don’t ask me, mate,” said Harry, his eyes following Ginny as she danced to the music. “Only other language I speak is snake.”
Ron was ready to crack his beer tankard over Harry’s head, pull the tablecloth off the table, wrap it around his little sister and get her the hell out of that bar.
“Translated, 'Voulez-vous coucher avec moi, ce soir’ means ‘Do you want to put to bed with me, tonight,’” said Hermione, her French perfect. She sat watching Ginny finish the song unflinchingly, as if she hadn’t just uttered a crude proposition. Meanwhile, Harry nearly tumbled out of his chair.
Ron felt himself seethe with fury. “Son of a three-headed bitch!” he roared. But no one except Harry and Hermione heard him over the tumultuous applause that Ginny had received.
Ginny bounced back from the stage, looking high from the experience. “That was great!” she said in a raspy voice, her throat tired from singing.
“Yeah,” was all Harry could utter. He slid his chair a few inches closer to Ginny’s as he spoke.
“Calm down,” growled Ron in a threatening voice.
“Take your own advice, mate,” said Harry, a look of worry in his eyes as he observed Ron’s alarming expression.
The man on stage had quieted the crowd and he again consulted his clipboard. “Looks like the last participant of the evening is … Miss Hermione Granger!”
“Oh, no,” said Ron, grabbing Hermione by the only bit of her he could grab on short notice as she tried to leave the table and head for the stage – the hem of her skirt, which he noticed was every bit as shockingly short as Ginny’s. What were those girls thinking? “It’s too late for Ginny, but it’s not too late for you!”
“Ron!” said Hermione in a voice that sounded like a cat hissing. “All I’m going to do is sing a song!”
And shake everything you’ve got and get all these disgusting guys salivating over you, Ron thought stubbornly. Before he could stop his train of thought, he added, And I want to be the only one watching you and salivating over you.
Hermione yanked the hem of her skirt out of Ron’s sweaty hand, scowled at him and walked up the steps of the stage. To her doom, Ron thought miserably.
“Tonight, Miss Granger will be treating us to a rendition of ‘Come What May,’” said the man brashly. He cued up the music and Ron was relieved to hear a ballad begin. He was also relieved that Hermione didn’t see fit to shake anything as she sang along to the slow song.
Her voice was a bit lower than Ginny’s and she seemed to have difficulty hitting some of the more strenuous notes, but Ron sat mesmerized by her nevertheless. Her eyes seemed to have found their way to the table in the middle of the room and they were locked on his. And he listened to the words as she sang and actually liked what he was hearing.
Ron didn’t notice that Harry’s chair had closed the distance between Ginny’s and that their fingers were woven together in her lap. If he had, he wouldn’t have cared – he wanted them as a couple – Ginny had been mad about Harry as long as Ron could remember. It would be about time that he realized she was the only girl for him.
No, none of that mattered much, as he listened to Hermione, slightly off-key, sing the words, “I will love you until my dying day,” straight to him.
He was really beginning to enjoy karaoke night.
THE END
***Author’s Note: This all takes place post-Hogwarts and post-Voldemort. I’m not sure of their actual ages, since I’m not sure of the legal drinking age in Great Britain. ;) Also, the songs Ginny and Hermione sing are from Moulin Rouge. How could I possibly resist that?! :grin
And Harry was just adorable over Ginny. Completely.
:D That was great, Bisty! 
Ron and Harry are a little lacking in the foreign language department, huh. 
