This fic was written a good while ago. Yes, it's short, but it's supposed to be that way. And a random thanks to my classmates back in the ninth grade, who were the inspiration for this fic.
Do We Really Have To Do This?
"Harry? Are you sure
we have to do this?" Ron asked.
"Yes, we do.
Trust me; it only takes a few minutes. You'll barely feel it." Harry
assured him.
Someone walked out
through the door, rubbing his upper arm and a pained expression on his face.
Ron glanced at the boy.
"That one didn't
look like he barely felt it."
"Well, you can't
feel it going in." Harry said. "I've had it done tons of times."
Ron watched Dean gulp
and walk into the room. Only two more people were left before he had to go up.
"How much will it
bleed?" He asked Harry, who seemed to have more experience with this than
he did.
"Not much at all.
Ron, you're worrying for nothing." Harry said, and then looked at the line
ahead of him. "You're up."
Ron turned around and
looked at the door. He took a deep breath.
10 seconds later,
Harry could hear Ron whimpering, and then a short yelp.
Ron opened the door,
his face white. He had a bandage on his upper arm, and he was shaking.
"The needle
wasn't that bad, was it?" Harry asked.
Ron gave him a look to
kill. "I am never doing that again."
"But... we have
to get another one in a few months."
Ron rolled his eyes,
looking almost ready to pass out, and plodded off to Gryffindor Tower, just as Harry entered Madame Pomfrey's office for his Protection-Against-Dark-Potions
medicine, the Muggle needle format.