“Solve funiculum!”

            “Ron, maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” Harry fretted. “I mean, I don’t want to give Ginny the wrong idea.”

            Ron straightened up from examining a pair of his old trainers and backed up to try again.

            “Honestly, Harry—solve funiculum!—she can’t possibly get the wrong idea,” Ron grunted in disgust at the unchanged state of the shoes. “It’d be obvious to Snape’s blind grandmother—solve funiculum!—that you’re completely dotty for her.”

            “You’re not helping!” Harry exclaimed. “I’ve told Ginny, and you too for that matter, that there is absolutely no way we can be together. It’s too bloody dangerous!”

            “Get a grip, Harry,” Ron told him, tapping his wand experimentally against the table as if to see if it was on. “It’s dinner and a movie, not a ruddy marriage license. You’re going to give yourself—solve funiculum!—an aneurysm.”

            “Stop it!” Harry finally roared, snatching Ron’s wand out of his hand. “I’m trying to have a serious conversation with you, and all you can do is hammer away at that ridiculous charm to untie shoes that there is clearly something wrong with! Why is it so damned important that you learn it before this double date that you’re forcing me to go on?!”

            “Stop changing the subject,” Ron grabbed his wand back. “You need to get out of this stuffy tower—solve funiculum!—and have some fun, and clearly the person you most want to have fun with—solve funiculum!!—is Ginny, so you might as well shut it—Solve Funiculum!!—and enjoy yourself like a normal Sixth Year—SOLVE FUNICULUM!”

            Ron’s cries of “solve funiculum!” were growing progressively more frustrated, but with the final scream, the shoelaces of the trainers obediently flopped open.

            “Ah HA!” Ron waved his wand wildly in triumph, and Harry ducked to avoid being skewered. He rearranged himself back into a semblance of calm. “Besides, once you’ve seen Ginny in Muggle clothes, you’ll forget your own name, much less how to brood.”

            “Have you seen what she’s wearing then?” Harry couldn’t stop himself from asking.

            “I’ve seen Hermione’s stuff before,” Ron grinned lasciviously. “If I ever meet the man who invented those, whad’yacallems, miniskirts, I’ll throw myself at his feet and kiss the dirt he walks on! And those shoes! The ones that doctor fellow makes.”

            “What?” Harry wrinkled his brow, trying to figure out what Ron was on about now.

            “You know, those big clonky things,” Ron waved airily. “Dr. Matins, or Marvin…”

            “Do you mean Doc Martens?” Harry finally asked.

            “Yeah, that’s the very blighter!” Ron nodded vigorously. “That man can make a shoe!”

Harry began to rub his temples, feeling a headache coming on.

            “Bloody hell, look at the time!” Ron exclaimed. “I told Hermione I’d have you in the Common Room five minutes ago!”

            Harry allowed himself to be inspected one last time and then pushed out of the room, and followed Ron down to meet the girls. And he did have to admit, when he entered the Common Room, Doc Martens and miniskirts did something for Ginny he wasn’t likely to soon forget.

            “You’re late,” Hermione accused as Ron leaned over to kiss her cheek.

            “Hello to you too,” he responded smoothly. “Next time you get to be in charge of getting Mr. Tall, Dark, and Sulky in proper order.” Harry gave Ginny an awkward hello and she smiled knowingly at him.

            “We’d, er, better get going,” Harry said, clearing his throat, thinking that it seemed a bit warm all of the sudden.

            “Ladies first,” Ron said, holding open the Fat Lady’s portrait as first Ginny, then Hermione went through. As Hermione went past, Harry heard Ron mutter “solve funiculum!” under his breath.

            “Oh, damn!” Hermione said, looking down. “These blasted laces never stay tied!”

            Hermione bent over to retie her shoe, obviously unused to wearing a short skirt and blissfully unaware that there are things a girl shouldn’t do in one.

            Harry turned crimson and hurriedly looked away. Ron gave an appreciative glance, enjoying the view for all it was worth.

            “What’re you looking so smug about?” Hermione asked Ron as he and Harry followed through the portrait hole.

            “I was just thinking how fantastic you look in Muggle clothes,” Ron covered smoothly. “And I LOVE those shoes.”

            “Bloody hell!” Hermione exclaimed. “Now the OTHER lace is undone!”