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“Ron! RON!! Wake up now or we’ll leave you here!”
A rather lumpy Chudley Cannon’s bed sheet shifted. Of course the lumps were cause by a teenage boy, who’s name was of course Ron. The only part of him that was visible at the moment was his flaming red hair, which, now that it was short once more, sticking up in every direction. He protested toward his mother as he pushed himself up. He yawned rather loudly, without covering his mouth as he rolled over. He felt his feet hit the cold floor with a loud thump. “I’m up Mum,” the tall teenager called back to his bustling mother, who had already disappeared down the staircase, without a backwards glance. He knew today was the day of Harry’s eighteenth birthday, and they were going to his brand new home to celebrate it. He and Ginny had gotten back together of course, after the war was over; they had practically attacked each other. Normally Ron would have been very displeased with the public show of affection, but he had been kind of busy himself.
After seven years of being best friends, Ron and his, now, girlfriend, Hermione, had finally gotten together. They had been friends for so long, that Ron hadn’t ever really thought of Hermione as more than a friend, until his fourth year at Hogwarts. It seemed that it hadn’t dawned on him that Hermione was even a girl, let alone a girl he wished to spend his life with, which was what he was planning to ask her, one day, after they had graduated from school, and become Aurors. Well that was what he was planning anyways. He felt a childish grin spread across his face as he thought about Victor Krum, who was pretty much Hermione’s ex-boyfriend. The other male had returned after the war, planning on sweeping her off her feet, showing how much he thought of himself. He hadn’t been too pleased seeing the two of them together, and when he saw that Ginny was with Harry, he didn’t know what to think, seeing as he had been told that she was with some big bloke. All in all it was a humiliating day for the famous quiditch player.
Ron stumbled through his rather messy room, pulling off his maroon pajamas, which he absolutely hated, but his mother seemed unwilling to buy any other color. Maroon clashed horrendously with his hair, but his mother was insane, so what did he care. He hunted around his dresser, looking for a shirt, until he finally remembered he could do magic, since he had already come of age. Old habits die hard sometimes. If only he could find his wand, then he would be in business. He shifted mounds of rubbish around, searching for his wand, finally finding it underneath a pair of old socks. “Acio shirt,” he mumbled, and immediately a black shirt came out of his closet and landed in his outstretched hand. He was starting to get good at that spell, finally, thanks to a lot of private study sessions with Hermione. Yeah they studied… studying each other’s lips that is.
After pulling on the black tee-shirt, Ron preformed the same spell once again, this time to summon a pair of blue jeans that came out of the bottom drawer of the dresser. Today he was just being very lazy it seemed. He did this with every article of clothing he was going to wear. In all he took about ten minutes to get ready, long enough for his mother to come back up, and walk in on him brushing his hair with the brush he kept on top of his dresser, “I told you I was up,” he said. Molly Weasely looked at her son for a moment then sighed. “Really I can’t believe you, Hermione, and Harry are all already eighteen,” she said quietly, “it seems like only yesterday you and Harry met… do you remember?” Ron smiled, “how he couldn’t figure out how to get onto the platform?” Ron asked, “of course… I also remember you having a little breakdown… didn’t you say we need to be going?”
 Bunlieu · Wed Jul 15, 2009 @ 12:44am · 0 Comments |
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