Chapter 32: The Sympathetic Vibration and the Waltz of Wardrobe Failure part-2
Harry tackled her.
They went down. Harry landed on top of her. But because he was holding his open robe in front of him like a net, he effectively trapped her underneath him inside the robe.
They were now a writhing lump under a black cloak on the floor.
But the physics of the fall were... intimate.
Harry's knee had landed between hers. His chest was pressed against hers. And because she was skirtless, his leg was in direct contact with her bare thigh.
(...cough...)
"System Alert," the voice sang. "Incident recorded. Type: The 'Sonic Zipper Boom' followed by 'The Cloak Cocoon'. Public lower body exposure during formal dance practice. Sustained physical contact. Target: Hermione Granger. Participant: Harry Potter. Rating: SS-class. Reward: Skill 'Frictionless Surface (Advanced)' and one hundred attribute points."
Under the cloak, I could hear the muffled conversation.
"Harry," Hermione whispered, her voice sounding like it was coming from the bottom of a well. "Are we dead?"
"No," Harry whispered back. "We are hiding."
"Your leg," she noted. "It is touching my skin."
"I know," Harry groaned. "I cannot move. If I move, the cloak lifts up and they see the clouds again."
"Don't let them see the clouds," she begged. "Protect the clouds."
"I am protecting them," Harry promised solemnly.
McGonagall arrived and tapped the lump with her wand.
"Up," she commanded. "Both of you. Dignity, please."
Harry stood up, keeping the cloak wrapped tightly around Hermione like a burrito. She shuffled to her feet, clutching the robe closed with a death grip.
"I am leaving," Hermione announced from inside the Harry-scented cocoon. "I am going to join the circus. Or become a nun."
"Go to the dormitory," McGonagall sighed, rubbing her temples. "Mr. Weasley, please escort them. You seem to be the only one capable of remaining vertical today."
"Yes, Professor," I said, stepping forward with a look of grave concern.
I picked up the ruined skirt. I examined the zipper.
"Metal fatigue," I declared loudly for the room to hear. "Vibrations from the music must have hit the resonant frequency of the brass. Terrible luck."
"Just... go," McGonagall waved us away.
We walked out of the Great Hall. Hermione shuffled along in Harry's oversized robe. Harry walked beside her in just his shirt and trousers, looking like he had just survived a war.
As soon as the doors closed behind us, Hermione stopped.
"Ron," she said, her voice muffled by the robe.
"Yeah?"
"I heard a hum," she said darkly. "Right before it happened. A low buzzing sound."
"Probably the pipes," I said quickly. "Old castle. Lots of weird noises."
"I am going to research resonant frequencies," she threatened. "And if I find out that someone was humming at my zipper..."
"You are just stressed, Hermione," Harry soothed, though he was still looking a bit flushed from the 'Cloak Cocoon' experience. "Come on. Let us get you some pants."
"Pants are useless," Hermione declared. "I am wearing armor to the ball. Plate mail."
"That might be hard to dance in," I pointed out.
"I am not dancing," she retorted. "I am sitting in a chair, welded to the floor, encased in concrete."
I smiled. She didn't know it yet, but concrete had a resonant frequency too.
(System,) I thought as we climbed the stairs. (What else can I buy?)
"New Item: The Dancing Shoes of Chaos (400 points)." "Description: Enchanted shoes that force the wearer to perform complicated dance moves against their will. Can include splits, high kicks and dips."
I looked at Hermione's shuffling feet.
The Yule Ball was going to be magnificent.
"Harry," I whispered as we walked. "You okay?"
Harry looked at me. He looked back at the bundled-up Hermione.
"Ron," he whispered back. "I think I like clouds."
I patted him on the shoulder. "It is okay, mate. We all have our preferences."
The corruption of the Boy Who Lived was proceeding ahead of schedule. By the time the Yule Ball arrived, he wouldn't be dreading the accidents; he would be anticipating them.
And I would be there, baton in hand, conducting the symphony of embarrassment.
The days leading up to the Yule Ball were ticking away like a time bomb attached to a very nervous cat. The castle was in a frenzy of decoration. Icicles that did not melt were attached to the banisters and twelve Christmas trees, frosted with silver and gold, loomed in the Great Hall.
For Hermione Granger, however, the festive season was purely a logistical nightmare.
"It arrived," she whispered to us at breakfast, looking around suspiciously as if Voldemort himself might be listening. "The package. From 'Gladrags Wizardwear'."
"The dress?" Harry Potter asked, lowering his piece of toast. He looked tired. His resistance to the "accidental perversion" training I had been subjecting him to was wearing thin. He now flinched whenever Hermione stood up too quickly.
"Not just a dress," Hermione corrected intensely. "It is an architectural marvel. I sent them specific schematics. Reinforced seams. Double-layered dragon-hide lining disguised as silk. And a locking mechanism on the back that requires a password to unzip."
"A password?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "What is the password? 'Dignity'?"
"Veritaserum," she muttered. "Because if anyone tries to open it, they will have to drug me first."
"So, are we doing a test run?" Harry asked nervously. "I mean... to check the safety buffers?"
"Tonight," Hermione confirmed. "Empty Charms classroom. Eighth floor. I need to make sure I can actually move in it. And I need you to practice the lift."
"The lift?" Harry paled. "We are doing a lift?"
"Patrick Swayze did it," Hermione said grimly. "We can do it. If I am in the air, I cannot trip over my own feet."
(Oh, Hermione,) I thought, taking a sip of pumpkin juice to hide my grin. (You tempt fate with such brazen confidence.)
I checked my system status.
Current Points: 535 (Accumulated from previous disasters).Shop Item Available: The Dancing Shoes of Chaos (400 points).
(Purchase,) I commanded.
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