Disclaimer: I don't own any of this. Not even the plot, as there isn't one.
I miss my old bedroom. Yes, my old bedroom at the Burrow. I miss the narrow wooden stairs leading up to it, and I miss the door on the left leading into it. I miss the length, and the wooden walls. I miss the small twin bed, foot facing the door. I miss the bright orange bedspread, and the Chudley Cannons poster on the wall to the left of the bed. I miss the frogspawn on the dresser by the door. I miss Pigwidgeon's open cage, while Pig's flying around the room. I miss the window over my bed, overlooking the broom shed. I miss the window at the end of the room, overlooking the lane and the hill. I miss my open trunk, books that I've never read spread haphazardly around the room. I miss the spare bed, Harry's bed, in the corner.
I miss Ginny coming in without knocking, and sitting on the end of my bed. I miss Hermione in my room, staring disapprovingly at the mess. I miss Harry laying in the bed next to mine, brooding. I miss Mum coming in to talk to me, and always managing to tidy up a bit. I miss Fred and/or George coming in at any and all hours, for myriad to no reasons. I miss having Bill in the room across from mine; I even miss Percy below me.
I miss feeling special, privileged, because all of my brothers had to go to school, and I got to stay home. I miss the years at home, just mum, dad, Ginny and me. I miss being so jealous, because all of my brothers got to go to school, and I had to stay home with Ginny and Mum. I miss the Long Summer Of Anticipation Before First Year. I miss the feeling of relief in being back home for summer. I miss that perfect feeling of boredom, of not having anything to do but not having to do anything. I miss the excitement, the drag, of school starting up, summer winding down. I miss that feeling of regret, in leaving my room for the last time, and heading to Kings Cross.
I miss loving every single thing in my room, because we couldn't afford it, and most of it was hand-me-down and second hand, but that made everything interesting, special. I miss having Bill's old bed. I miss having Charlie's old dresser. I miss having Hermes's old owl cage for Pig. I miss sitting in my bed, poring over catalogues, wanting everything and wanting nothing, because it was all so costly.
I miss trudging wearily up the stairs to my room after a long day. I miss storming angrily up to my room and slamming my door, because me and Mum had had a row. I miss running fearfully up the stairs, trying to escape Fred and George. I miss yelling at Ginny to "Stay out and go away!" and her coming in anyway. I miss laying in bed on summer nights, listening to the countryside noises.
I miss all of that so much it hurts sometimes. My room was my haven, my sanctuary. It was a place made up of so many people, yet altogether and solely me. I represents my childhood, the simple days before the war, before so much was lost. I miss the comfort that room gave me, the knowledge that I had a place I belonged, that was mine.
I love what I have now, but I still miss what I had.
A/N: I couldn't get to sleep a few nights ago, because I had this weird feeling of nostalgia. Specifically for Ron's room. So, I started writing, and this was formed. Yes, I'm well aware I'm crazy; I don't need to be reminded.
If any of this goes against canon, tell me. If it won't change the entire meaning of the story, I'll fix it.