Last Man Standing
He lay flat on his back pretending to take interest in Flying with the Cannons, but tonight his heart wasn't really in it.
Out of the corner of his eye he watched Harry and Neville bustle about the dorm putting on their dress robes for the night ahead.
Ron Weasley was wearing a ratty old tee shirt and corduroy pants that had seen better days. His hair was messy from being pawed and tousled by a girl who'd taken an interest in him like his sister took an interest in shoes.
At least a girl actually likes me, he thought dismally. That in itself is a bloody miracle. Just not the right girl, he sighed into his book.
"Alright, Ron?" asked Harry as he tied up his shoes.
"Yeah," mumbled Ron before going back to staring blankly at his book.
It's not my fault Lavender fancies me, his brain went on. Hermione sure doesn't, so why should she care I'm off kissing someone. She did! Bloody Krum. No need for her to pitch a fit about it. What's her problem anyway? She's not the boss of me.
He knew immediately that this wasn't entirely true. He'd probably set fire to his new broomstick if she asked him to and he wouldn't second guess it.
"Ready Neville?" Said Harry, derailing Ron's train of thought.
"Yeah, nearly. Just got to find my comb. Ah, there it is," replied Neville, retrieving his comb from a nearby shoe. "See you later, Ron."
"Bye" Ron said without looking up.
"See ya, mate," Harry called as he left the dormitory.
"Say 'hi' to Loony for me," Ron yelled back.
Ron dropped the pretense of reading and let the book fall to his chest and stared up at the canopy of his bead.
His fingers traced the scratch marks that crisscrossed the large white scars that laced his arms. The scars that he had received in the Department of Mysteries.
I just can't win with her, he thought. The only proper attention I get is when she nags me about homework or when she's attacking me with bloody canaries.
Thinking he heard the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs he picked up his book and quickly pretended to read. He didn't feel much like talking to Dean or Seamus.
A light knocking came to his ears and his heart lept in his chest. Perhaps Hermione did want to got to Slughorn's party with him; after all she'd never actually said 'No'. Not in so many words at any rate.
"Won Won?"
Ron cringed and squeezed his eyes shut in disgust. Merlin, he hated that nickname.
"Won Won?" Are you in there?" Cooed Lavender Brown from the other side of the door. "I know Harry's gone to Slughorn's party, so I thought you might be lonely..."
Ron hoped his silence would make her think he wasn't there.
"Won Won? Are you asleep or something?"
How thick is this girl? Ron thought grumpily as he curled into a sleeping position and kept his eyes shut in case she grew bolder and tried opening the door.
"I thought we could take a walk up to the astronomy tower?"
Ron had heard much about the legendary nighttime tours to the astronomy tower from all of his brothers. Is she throwing herself at me now? He wondered.
It sounded like a vaguely good idea, until he thought it through. Lavender was a conventionally pretty girl, with her long corn silk hair and her nice tits, he mused, but underneath it all she was just a pawing, sucking, slobbering Collector. She's been out with half the boys in the school, probably, he thought.
"Won Won?"
Is she still there?
"Did you know that girls can get into the boys' dormitories?" She asked in a velvety voice.
At least half the school, corrected Ron as he heard the door open and click shut again.
"Won Won?"
He pretended to burrow into his pillow.
"Aww, you are asleep," she whispered, as if incapable of thinking without speaking.
"He's so cute," Ron heard her say as he felt a light kiss on his cheek.
It was nice, he admitted, to be wanted. And kissing and fondling her was nothing short of exciting, but it was also a massive guilt trip. He often thought of Hermine when he closed his eyes and kissed Lavender, and the novelty of being able to touch a girl was no match for the guilt he felt afterwards. The knowledge that he would end up hurting Lavender as well.
"Well," Lavender said, "I'll see you tomorrow then, I guess."
Ron rolled over as he heard the door click shut again feeling as if he'd just dodged a curse. He'd break up with her soon. He just needed to figure out how without her crying all over the place.
His thoughts turned now to Slughorn's party. Had it started yet? He looked at his bedside clock. There was still twenty minutes to go. Harry and Neville must have left early to meet their dates.
Does Hermione have a date?Hhe wondered for the first time, because I'm supposed to be her date. Maybe she still expects me to be? His heart fluttered at the thought. Surely she would have told me to stuff the invitation if she didn't want me to go with her?
Yes, he decided, Hermione always speaks her mind, doesn't she? She would have told me if she was taking someone else instead.
Hell, he realized, I've got less than twenty minutes to get ready!
He pulled off his clothes at record speed, grabbed a towel and made for the boys' shower. He would've liked to have done things properly and bathed in the Prefects' bathroom but he was hard pressed for time.
After his brief, (and mostly cold), shower he towel dried and attempted to tame his thick red hair. Then he took a few minutes to carefully shave with inexpert hands; It would just be like me to nick myself, he thought.
Rushing back to the dorm he pulled out all of his clothes from the drawers beneath his four poster, only to find his new dress robes at the very bottom.
He donned them quickly, and for a finishing touch he applied some cologne.
Ron had bought the matching bottle for Hermione last Christmas, but was unsure whether she'd liked it of not. He had had them made up at the apothecary in Diagon Alley; hers with the essence of sandy beaches and the ocean, and his with the scent of mown grass and fresh rain.
Probably twelve Sickles down the drain, the thought miserably, looking in the mirror and observing the finished product. Well, it's the best I can do, short of time or not, he thought. Passable.
Ron proceeded down the stairs cautiously with seven minutes to spare, wary of being pounced upon by Lavender Brown, but the Common Room was empty.
Ron's stomach growled at that moment and he realized where the non-party goers had gone to and settled himself into the small plush chair that sat up against the base of the girls' stairs.
He looked at his watch. Five minutes to go. He carefully brushed the creases out of his trousers and shined his shoes against the back of his legs.
Four minutes. He combed his fingers through his hair one last time and ran his hands across his cheek to check he'd done a thorough job shaving. He hadn't done a perfect job, but no cuts at least.
Three minutes. Shouldn't Hermione be here by now? She's usually pretty punctual. Still, another couple of minutes to go, he thought, resting back into the chair and tapping his foot anxiously.
Two minutes. No Hermione. Thank Merlin, no one else either. The last thing he wanted was for the Creevey brothers with their tandem cameras to show up and notice him.
One minute to go. Ron felt a bit nervy. Perhaps I was meant to meet her at the party, he thought? She probably had to do some research at the library first or something.
His face instantly felt like it was on fire as he heard a door at the top of the staircase open and he heard dainty footsteps.
Hermione. At last.
She didn't notice him as she came down the stairs. Ron was about to get out of the chair and come and take her hand at the bottom of the stairs and apologize for everything when the portrait hole opened and someone stepped through and greeted Hermione.
"Thought I was meeting you there, but when you didn't turn up I thought I'd better come back to the Common Room and get you," said McLaggen.
Ron Weasley felt sick to his stomach. He crouched down into his chair and hoped that with Hermione's back to him he had not been noticed.
"So, are you ready then?" Mclaggen said shooting Ron a sly smirk over Hermione's shoulder.
Git.
"Yes," sighed Hermione, "Let's go then, shall we?"
And she let herself be led through the portrait hole and out of Ron's evening.
Ron ran his hands over his face in frustration. Of course she wouldn't want to go to the Christmas party with a stupid prat like me. Come to think of it, she never even asked me the first time. I just assumed that we were going together.
He stood up, the sole person in the Gryffindor Common Room and the embodiment of 'All dressed up and no place to go'. His stomach was churning and his mouth was dry. Turning from the door he slouched off up the stairs to the sixth year boys' dormitory and for the first time in his whole life Ron Weasley went to bed without dinner.