Author: QueeoftheMad
Genre: Humour/Romance
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine!!! NOTHING!!! *Weeps*
Summary: Short and sweet ficlet, with lashings of fluff.
AN: I'm actually British, so If you don't understand the lingo, ignore it.
How to Wake Up Ron Weasley
I Know Ron's looking at me. I just Know it. Of course, I also Know why. That bloody git wants answers off me. Hmph. I shall not submit to his worthless groveling. I told him to study. I -told- him. But no-he wants to play -Quidditch-. With -Harry-. I give him my snootiest look and turn away to face my already completed History of Magic test booklet. I smooth down invisible creases and rub out imaginary pencil lines. Taptaptaptaptaptaptap. What was that? I turn around. It's Ron again. He is incessantly tapping his feet against the test table in a highly annoying fashion. He notices me staring at him. He's grinning. And doing puppy eyes. Awww, he looks so cute when he does that. No. I will not succumb. These are OWLs. I will -not- cheat in the OWLs. Ugh-he's screwing up his face now.
"Herm-own-ninny!" he whispers, "Help me!" He is waving his arms around in a highly inappropriate fashion and leaning in his chair. Leaning a lot in his chair.
"Ron!" I hiss. But it is too late. CLANK. He's now in a heap on the ground, his violently luminous red hair poking out from behind a bookcase. Tut tut. I can hear Seamus and Dean sniggering from behind their booklets, and there's Harry, in silent hysterics, -he-hasn't asked me for answers. Oh no oh no oh no.Professor Binns has spotted Ron. Eek. I duck my head in shame and eavesdrop.
"Mr. Weavel, I clearly remember telling you to complete this test." (at this point he pointed vigorously with his transparent hand at the test paper. "I do not, however, remember telling you to fool around on your chair and fall like a nincompoop!" the class bursts into giggles at the word 'nincompoop'. Ron looks sheepishly up at the Professor, and with red- tipped ears, mumbles a 'sorry'.
I look back at my test and for the fifteenth time, start checking it over. I am lost in the realms of studiousness until a large snore erupted from behind me. It was Ron-again. SNORE. Tsk tsk Mr. Weasely. Shame on you. I think about waking him up, but as its Ron, that is extremely impossible. I settle for frowning at him with what he calls my 'McGonagall face.' I am jolted out of my seat by yet another -SNORE. Ah, Gods, there is the bell. The test papers float purposefully over to Binns' desk and settle themselves down comfortably next to a mouldy biscuit. SNORE. Is he -still- asleep? The class gathers there things to go and I walk towards Harry. He grins and points at Ron.
"Shall we wake him up or what?" I shake my head.
"Its Ron, Harry, You-Know-Who will have a successful career in flower arranging before we can wake him up." Harry nods his head in agreement and we set off in the corridor. We are halfway down the charms corridor and midway in a heated discussion about what we would do to Malfoy if we were a teacher before I realized I had left my favourite eagle feather quill in the History of Magic classroom.
"You want me to come and get it with you?" asks Harry. I decline. I am still clouded with shame in my complete lack of organization. If he comes back with me, he might even-oh Lords no-see the HG is scribbled onto the desk! I jog hurriedly back down the corridor and walk into the classroom to see Ron, still snoozing happily, with his spiky red hair crumpled against the table, and his pink-tinged ears resting against the table-top. His long fingers are scruched up tightly on a sheet of paper. His mouth is soft and- NO. I REFUSE TO BELIEVE I SAID THOSE THINGS. RON IS A FRIEND. THE LAST THOUGHT WAS A RESULT OF BORED HORMONES.
Still, I cant help but walk gently closer, being careful as to not step on anything to wake him up. I bend down next to him until he is face to face with me. Hm. How strange. I have never noticed his eyelashes before. They're gold. And right now, quivering softly. His skin is creamy and the freckles along the bridge of his nose just brush his cheeks. Before I know what I am doing, my lips have found their way onto his left cheek. AAAAAAA!!! WHAT IN MERLIN'S NAME AM I DOING!!! But its so soft-YOU. ARE. KISSING. YOUR. BEST. FRIEND!!! Ron smiles sleepily. Hm.he smells like Sherpard's Pie. I love Sherpards-STOP-STOP-STOP!!! Ron stirs and I jump backwards.
"Mumblemumble.ferret.greasy ferret.MUM! Malferret is eating the gnomes!" Heehee. I giggle inwardly. Gnomes-Malfoy. His eyes flutter open and stare at me blurrily. "'Mione-what you doing? Where's Binns?" Tut tut.
"The test is -over- Ron. You fell asleep, and I just came back to get my quill." He scrunches his face up in confusion and evidently seaches his memory.
"Did you just.was I just.you never."
"What, Ron?" I ask innocently.
"Never mind." He looks rather red now. "I must have been dreaming." He stands up and we walk, side by side, to the door. I stop suddenly, and smile in realization.
"At least one thing was gained from this stupid History of Magic exam." Ron frowns.
"What?" I carry on walking.
"Well," I say. "I now know a sure fire way to wake you up."
Genre: Humour/Romance
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine!!! NOTHING!!! *Weeps*
Summary: Short and sweet ficlet, with lashings of fluff.
AN: I'm actually British, so If you don't understand the lingo, ignore it.
How to Wake Up Ron Weasley
I Know Ron's looking at me. I just Know it. Of course, I also Know why. That bloody git wants answers off me. Hmph. I shall not submit to his worthless groveling. I told him to study. I -told- him. But no-he wants to play -Quidditch-. With -Harry-. I give him my snootiest look and turn away to face my already completed History of Magic test booklet. I smooth down invisible creases and rub out imaginary pencil lines. Taptaptaptaptaptaptap. What was that? I turn around. It's Ron again. He is incessantly tapping his feet against the test table in a highly annoying fashion. He notices me staring at him. He's grinning. And doing puppy eyes. Awww, he looks so cute when he does that. No. I will not succumb. These are OWLs. I will -not- cheat in the OWLs. Ugh-he's screwing up his face now.
"Herm-own-ninny!" he whispers, "Help me!" He is waving his arms around in a highly inappropriate fashion and leaning in his chair. Leaning a lot in his chair.
"Ron!" I hiss. But it is too late. CLANK. He's now in a heap on the ground, his violently luminous red hair poking out from behind a bookcase. Tut tut. I can hear Seamus and Dean sniggering from behind their booklets, and there's Harry, in silent hysterics, -he-hasn't asked me for answers. Oh no oh no oh no.Professor Binns has spotted Ron. Eek. I duck my head in shame and eavesdrop.
"Mr. Weavel, I clearly remember telling you to complete this test." (at this point he pointed vigorously with his transparent hand at the test paper. "I do not, however, remember telling you to fool around on your chair and fall like a nincompoop!" the class bursts into giggles at the word 'nincompoop'. Ron looks sheepishly up at the Professor, and with red- tipped ears, mumbles a 'sorry'.
I look back at my test and for the fifteenth time, start checking it over. I am lost in the realms of studiousness until a large snore erupted from behind me. It was Ron-again. SNORE. Tsk tsk Mr. Weasely. Shame on you. I think about waking him up, but as its Ron, that is extremely impossible. I settle for frowning at him with what he calls my 'McGonagall face.' I am jolted out of my seat by yet another -SNORE. Ah, Gods, there is the bell. The test papers float purposefully over to Binns' desk and settle themselves down comfortably next to a mouldy biscuit. SNORE. Is he -still- asleep? The class gathers there things to go and I walk towards Harry. He grins and points at Ron.
"Shall we wake him up or what?" I shake my head.
"Its Ron, Harry, You-Know-Who will have a successful career in flower arranging before we can wake him up." Harry nods his head in agreement and we set off in the corridor. We are halfway down the charms corridor and midway in a heated discussion about what we would do to Malfoy if we were a teacher before I realized I had left my favourite eagle feather quill in the History of Magic classroom.
"You want me to come and get it with you?" asks Harry. I decline. I am still clouded with shame in my complete lack of organization. If he comes back with me, he might even-oh Lords no-see the HG is scribbled onto the desk! I jog hurriedly back down the corridor and walk into the classroom to see Ron, still snoozing happily, with his spiky red hair crumpled against the table, and his pink-tinged ears resting against the table-top. His long fingers are scruched up tightly on a sheet of paper. His mouth is soft and- NO. I REFUSE TO BELIEVE I SAID THOSE THINGS. RON IS A FRIEND. THE LAST THOUGHT WAS A RESULT OF BORED HORMONES.
Still, I cant help but walk gently closer, being careful as to not step on anything to wake him up. I bend down next to him until he is face to face with me. Hm. How strange. I have never noticed his eyelashes before. They're gold. And right now, quivering softly. His skin is creamy and the freckles along the bridge of his nose just brush his cheeks. Before I know what I am doing, my lips have found their way onto his left cheek. AAAAAAA!!! WHAT IN MERLIN'S NAME AM I DOING!!! But its so soft-YOU. ARE. KISSING. YOUR. BEST. FRIEND!!! Ron smiles sleepily. Hm.he smells like Sherpard's Pie. I love Sherpards-STOP-STOP-STOP!!! Ron stirs and I jump backwards.
"Mumblemumble.ferret.greasy ferret.MUM! Malferret is eating the gnomes!" Heehee. I giggle inwardly. Gnomes-Malfoy. His eyes flutter open and stare at me blurrily. "'Mione-what you doing? Where's Binns?" Tut tut.
"The test is -over- Ron. You fell asleep, and I just came back to get my quill." He scrunches his face up in confusion and evidently seaches his memory.
"Did you just.was I just.you never."
"What, Ron?" I ask innocently.
"Never mind." He looks rather red now. "I must have been dreaming." He stands up and we walk, side by side, to the door. I stop suddenly, and smile in realization.
"At least one thing was gained from this stupid History of Magic exam." Ron frowns.
"What?" I carry on walking.
"Well," I say. "I now know a sure fire way to wake you up."