A/N:
Not really romance, more like that Neville story I
wrote. Not really based on him, though. It is mainly about
Ron. Really short and I guess I can say that it's Ron writing
down how he feels? ::shrugs:: If you like it, please r/r. And
(duh) Ron's POV.
Usual disclaimers apply.
The Best Bud
by Iris Marie
Everybody says that a person should be grateful for
whatever he/she has. And I am grateful: I have a wonderful
mum, a good dad, and siblings I would never trade in for the
world. Well... no, I wouldn't even trade in Percy. But, imagine
being overshadowed, not ever having the kind of spotlight you
deserved... the kind of acknowledgement that you have been craving
ever since you were young?
The day when I first got accepted into Hogwarts was good
enough, I suppose, to quell the wanting into something more tolerable.
I still wanted to be the Quidditch Captain, ace all my tests, become
a Head Boy and so forth. But, then I met Harry Potter. A boy who
had all this money in the Gringott's Bank; who was famous before
he even learned how to crawl; a boy who saved my sister's life
from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!
I was jealous, that I can, and never will, deny. He was
the same age as I, but had so many things that I craved. I wanted
that attention... I wanted it because I rarely ever had it. And
then, he got entered into the Goblet of Fire! The day when you were
supposed to participate, I was able to just taste the fame in my
mouth. I could picture myself, on top of everybody's shoulder, my
name being chanted and talked about. I won the cup. I won it for
Hogwarts. But then, it came crashing down again when his name was
called.
The fight was because of that. I couldn't accept the fact
that the one dream of victory that I could actually really see was
snatched away again by him. He's my best friend, but there are
limits on how many times you can be... neglected. My family's huge,
I the youngest boy. Everything was passed down, even the books. It
was bad enough that Malfoy would shove that insult down my throat
like an open wound being pressed with salt.
I needed the fame. I wanted the fame. And I never really
got it.
----
"Ron? Ron, what are you doing?" Hermione asked, glancing
around my shoulder at the parchment. Quickly, I shoved it underneath
the books, wondering if she read it and wondering why I even
started to write it.
"Just doing some homework," I replied, smiling all too
sincerely. She regarded me for a moment, but then shook her head
and sat down on the empty seat on my left. I sent her a quizzical
look, but she shrugged and began to doodle on the parchment that
was on the desk.
"Where's Harry?"
"Quidditch practice." Her eyes strayed towards the parchment
that I had been writing on and sighed. "Can I read it?"
"Read what?"
"What you were writing."
"It's divination homework," I protested, wondering if she
knew I was lying or not. Of course, she knew, so all she did was
give me 'The Look.' "Why would you want to read it?"
She opened her mouth, but then shut it. "All right." She stood
up and before she left, she flung her arms around me. "You're still
my best bud, Ron." And then she left.
Staring after her, I smiled. Bringing out the paper again,
I added...
...then again, I AM still the best bud.
The End
Don't know wut I did. Just this short thing. Like it? R/R if u wanna.
Not really romance, more like that Neville story I
wrote. Not really based on him, though. It is mainly about
Ron. Really short and I guess I can say that it's Ron writing
down how he feels? ::shrugs:: If you like it, please r/r. And
(duh) Ron's POV.
Usual disclaimers apply.
The Best Bud
by Iris Marie
Everybody says that a person should be grateful for
whatever he/she has. And I am grateful: I have a wonderful
mum, a good dad, and siblings I would never trade in for the
world. Well... no, I wouldn't even trade in Percy. But, imagine
being overshadowed, not ever having the kind of spotlight you
deserved... the kind of acknowledgement that you have been craving
ever since you were young?
The day when I first got accepted into Hogwarts was good
enough, I suppose, to quell the wanting into something more tolerable.
I still wanted to be the Quidditch Captain, ace all my tests, become
a Head Boy and so forth. But, then I met Harry Potter. A boy who
had all this money in the Gringott's Bank; who was famous before
he even learned how to crawl; a boy who saved my sister's life
from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!
I was jealous, that I can, and never will, deny. He was
the same age as I, but had so many things that I craved. I wanted
that attention... I wanted it because I rarely ever had it. And
then, he got entered into the Goblet of Fire! The day when you were
supposed to participate, I was able to just taste the fame in my
mouth. I could picture myself, on top of everybody's shoulder, my
name being chanted and talked about. I won the cup. I won it for
Hogwarts. But then, it came crashing down again when his name was
called.
The fight was because of that. I couldn't accept the fact
that the one dream of victory that I could actually really see was
snatched away again by him. He's my best friend, but there are
limits on how many times you can be... neglected. My family's huge,
I the youngest boy. Everything was passed down, even the books. It
was bad enough that Malfoy would shove that insult down my throat
like an open wound being pressed with salt.
I needed the fame. I wanted the fame. And I never really
got it.
----
"Ron? Ron, what are you doing?" Hermione asked, glancing
around my shoulder at the parchment. Quickly, I shoved it underneath
the books, wondering if she read it and wondering why I even
started to write it.
"Just doing some homework," I replied, smiling all too
sincerely. She regarded me for a moment, but then shook her head
and sat down on the empty seat on my left. I sent her a quizzical
look, but she shrugged and began to doodle on the parchment that
was on the desk.
"Where's Harry?"
"Quidditch practice." Her eyes strayed towards the parchment
that I had been writing on and sighed. "Can I read it?"
"Read what?"
"What you were writing."
"It's divination homework," I protested, wondering if she
knew I was lying or not. Of course, she knew, so all she did was
give me 'The Look.' "Why would you want to read it?"
She opened her mouth, but then shut it. "All right." She stood
up and before she left, she flung her arms around me. "You're still
my best bud, Ron." And then she left.
Staring after her, I smiled. Bringing out the paper again,
I added...
...then again, I AM still the best bud.
The End
Don't know wut I did. Just this short thing. Like it? R/R if u wanna.