(Disclaimer: I own nothing in relation to Harry Potter. Man I wish I did
though, of course then the movies wouldn't be pg13 that I guarantee!
Anyway)
Some say the first line of any story is pure. Because at this point the story is unscrewed around with. And this is not an exception with me. Unfortunately I am not able to translate it into the rest of the story. So... here goes.
In the unusual chill of a summer night, a doorbell rang crisp and crystal clear. Ronald Weasley, who laid downstairs on the couch, unknowing that trouble is afoot as of yet, awoken to this ring at six in the morning. Ron slowly sat up as another came, and reached over to find a white wife beater, he shoved it down over his head and was still contemplating why he had slept on the couch as he opened the door.
"Morning 'Mione.... HERMIONE!?" Realizing what he had just said, and who stood in tears in front of him he woke completely. He threw the door open wide and gasped as she entered and threw her arms around him, crying into his shoulder. She was holding a letter in her hand with familiar scrawl across the front, too familiar, Ron decided.
Knowing this could only mean bad news about Harry, whom he knew Hermione had fallen for; Ron eased her onto the couch. "WHO IS IT," came his mother's voice. What with Hermione still sobbing into his shoulder he did not answer at first then softly he called, "Come down here mum."
The two were soon joined by the fiery red headed woman who sat down beside Hermione. "What is the matter?" Hermione now tried to speak and though thoroughly muffled and almost lost in her sobs, Ron heard. "It... its Harry."
Ron gave her time to calm down. Eventually she did and by that time the rest of the Weasleys, with the exceptions of Percy, Bill, and Charlie, had assembled. "I sent him a letter to ask if he was alright... and when one came back... well."
Ronald Weasly brushed the hair out of her eyes and put a comforting hand on her shoulder as she withdrew the envelope with her name written on it. On the back of the envelope was a finger print, in red. "I don't think he knows he left it." Hermione said and Molly Weasly gasped and turned away. "He spilled a bit of red ink... so what?" Ron asked as he held Hermione tight.
"Ron is it just me, or are you truly an idiot? That's blood that is! Our old mate Harry must be cutting himself." George said placing a comforting hand on his mother's shoulder, Fred doing the same. After taking a long moment to calm down Hermione continued, "I had just sent him a letter before I got here. I want you and Harry to come to my house for the summer. We'll be alone for a week but my parents said it was alright.
But then this happened and I came right over. And now I don't want to let him out of my sight. I need your help Ron; we need to get him now, before he can really do anything stupid." With his family's blessing Ron said his goodbyes, packed his trunk rather quickly and let Hermione lead him to the nearest street where they called the knight bus. "Where too?" So was the cry of the pimply faced conductor. Taking two beds on the bus they decided to head straight there and not detour to drop off Ron's' stuff... "Little Winging, Privet Drive, Surrey."
Some say the first line of any story is pure. Because at this point the story is unscrewed around with. And this is not an exception with me. Unfortunately I am not able to translate it into the rest of the story. So... here goes.
In the unusual chill of a summer night, a doorbell rang crisp and crystal clear. Ronald Weasley, who laid downstairs on the couch, unknowing that trouble is afoot as of yet, awoken to this ring at six in the morning. Ron slowly sat up as another came, and reached over to find a white wife beater, he shoved it down over his head and was still contemplating why he had slept on the couch as he opened the door.
"Morning 'Mione.... HERMIONE!?" Realizing what he had just said, and who stood in tears in front of him he woke completely. He threw the door open wide and gasped as she entered and threw her arms around him, crying into his shoulder. She was holding a letter in her hand with familiar scrawl across the front, too familiar, Ron decided.
Knowing this could only mean bad news about Harry, whom he knew Hermione had fallen for; Ron eased her onto the couch. "WHO IS IT," came his mother's voice. What with Hermione still sobbing into his shoulder he did not answer at first then softly he called, "Come down here mum."
The two were soon joined by the fiery red headed woman who sat down beside Hermione. "What is the matter?" Hermione now tried to speak and though thoroughly muffled and almost lost in her sobs, Ron heard. "It... its Harry."
Ron gave her time to calm down. Eventually she did and by that time the rest of the Weasleys, with the exceptions of Percy, Bill, and Charlie, had assembled. "I sent him a letter to ask if he was alright... and when one came back... well."
Ronald Weasly brushed the hair out of her eyes and put a comforting hand on her shoulder as she withdrew the envelope with her name written on it. On the back of the envelope was a finger print, in red. "I don't think he knows he left it." Hermione said and Molly Weasly gasped and turned away. "He spilled a bit of red ink... so what?" Ron asked as he held Hermione tight.
"Ron is it just me, or are you truly an idiot? That's blood that is! Our old mate Harry must be cutting himself." George said placing a comforting hand on his mother's shoulder, Fred doing the same. After taking a long moment to calm down Hermione continued, "I had just sent him a letter before I got here. I want you and Harry to come to my house for the summer. We'll be alone for a week but my parents said it was alright.
But then this happened and I came right over. And now I don't want to let him out of my sight. I need your help Ron; we need to get him now, before he can really do anything stupid." With his family's blessing Ron said his goodbyes, packed his trunk rather quickly and let Hermione lead him to the nearest street where they called the knight bus. "Where too?" So was the cry of the pimply faced conductor. Taking two beds on the bus they decided to head straight there and not detour to drop off Ron's' stuff... "Little Winging, Privet Drive, Surrey."