Ronald Weasley; Windscreen Wiper Thief
In the overpowering dark of night, Ron darted out. Skillfully, he pulled a chequered bandana from his pocket and tied it swiftly round his face, so that it just rested under his eyes. He was in the muggle town near the Burrow, a little sleepy place whose occupants were now, asleep.
He made his way along the path, concealing himself behind trees and bushes as he went, ducking and diving, pressing himself up against the bark, forever feeling the peeping eyes of the muggles on him.
There weren't too many cars out tonight; it had been going on for too long now. Their owners had tucked them safely away in garages, out of his reach.
He knew he shouldn't do it, and he knew that it was wrong, but…
Ron just couldn't help himself.
Ah! There it was! Parked just along the corner, a beautiful blue sedan, engine off, sleeping peacefully. Ron's eyes lit up, and stole his way towards it, pulling the bandana around his face more tightly. As he approached it, he walked faster, until he broke into a run, throwing himself upon the bonnet of the machine. There, he scrambled up the smooth metal, until he found what he had came for.
Windscreen wipers.
Oh, they were beautiful. Oh so beautiful… Navy blue, with a multi-edge blade. Hinges pristine- perhaps they had been oiled? Ron curled himself up on the bonnet, taking hold of the blade, rubbing his face against it and growling sensually.
Suddenly, a voice rang out in the dark like a shot.
"Hey you bastard, get off my car!"
Ron jumped up, nimble as a cat, spotting the figure standing by the semi-detached house, the light from behind him making him indistinguishable. Ron quickly got to work- he pulled his pliers from his bag, and broke the windscreen wipers off, being careful not to damage them. The irate man was approaching now, and Ron had to hurry. Just before the man got to him, he had the last one off. He sprinted as fast as he could, the man following him. He darted through the gardens, springing his way over the fences and through the trees. He could hear the man panting as he became quickly out of breath.
"I'm not gonna let you get away, you piece of shit!" he heard him yell breathlessly. "Gimme my windscreen wipers back!"
Ron disappeared behind a garden partition, pressing himself up against it, and watched as the man ran on ahead, still following his empty shadow.
Ron took a long deep breath, and pulled his treasure from his bag. He caressed them, and ran a tongue down the side, tasting the lemon-flavoured cleaning fluid on it. He shivered pleasurably, and started to make the long trek home.
x
At the Burrow, Hermione was crying. Sitting in an over-stuffed armchair, her handkerchief clutched in her hands, she sobbed harder as Ron entered, slamming the wonky door behind him.
"Ron- how long… how long is this going to go on?" she choked out, blowing her nose nosily. Her eyes were red and puffy.
Ron crossed the room, pulling the bandana from his face. He put his bag down on the side, and threw the windscreen wipers into a big pile in the corner of the room. It almost reached to the ceiling.
"Ron- look." Hermione, still crying, was gesturing to the television. On it, the news reporter was pictured beside a car, the windscreen wipers missing. "There have been dozens of cases of stolen windscreen wipers around and inside the south-east," said the news reporter, an overweight man with a comb-over. " The only suspect is a young man, described by witnesses to have red hair. What we question tonight is; why would someone commit such a sick crime? And for what purpose?"
Hermione broke out into another fit of sobs. "Ron, you can't keep doing this!" she cried, rising from her seat to take hold of him. "This is insane! You need help Ron, you need to go to St Mungo's."
"I don't need help," said Ron, pushing her away.
"Ron, you've changed so much… what happened to the man I loved?"
Ron turned away, and moved over to the pile of windscreen wipers. He picked one up, sniffing it heartily, his face dreamlike. "Just leave me alone woman," he muttered absently.
Her hands clutched to her heart, Hermione gave him an ultimatum. "Ron… who do you love? Me, or the windscreen wipers?"
Five minutes later, Ron stood stunned, red hand marks on his face. Bags in hand, Hermione strode swiftly out the door. It slammed loudly behind her.