Hello all! Second chapter, joy. Thanks for the review and faves and such!
Enjoy!
Meanwhile, at not quite the same time on not quite the same night, Ronald Weasley was having not quite the same dream. And it was driving everyone else in his dormitory insane. After all, there was an unspoken agreement among the teenage boys of the Gryffindor dorm to graciously cast a silencing charm amongst yourself when things got a bit...out of hand, as it is prone to happen with teenage boys.
Unfortunately for Ron, he did not extend that courtesy to his fellow bunkmates, who were now wide awake and listening with various interest to Ronald's late night proclamations. For some like Seamus Finnagan it was with thorough amusement and well thought out plotting on his part to tease Ron later with this. Others, like Neville simply sat in awe, unsure what to do, and others, like Harry could only sit in horror; for he had his own dream, a simple dream never to hear his best mate moan his other best mate's name in passion whilst in bed.
Finally, in an act of mercy more than anything else, Dean woke the boy up, much to his tired confusion. Unsure of exactly what was going on, Ron was fairly certain the presence of four boys standing over him was probably not a good thing.
"Whasgoion?" He blearily asked.
"Mate, keep it down a notch," Seamus laughed.
"Huh?"
"You're...talking in your sleep," Harry attempted delicately.
Blood rose to Ron's cheeks as he tried to remember what exactly he was dreaming about just a few moments prior. He was certain it involved a few important, discreet matter he would rather the rest of the boys were not aware of. Matters that involved the infuriating and amazing Hermione Granger...and possibly rescuing her from train tracks she had been tied to by death eaters. Somewhere in there may have been confessions of undying love on her part. At any rate, he did his best to act nonchalant.
"Really," He coughed weakly, "I don't even remember what I was dreaming about." At this, even Harry could not keep from laughing at.
"I'm sure Neville here can read you back the transcript," Seamus chuckled, "his quick quotes was writing furiously to make sure we could catch everything you said...and maybe add a little bit of exposition for our amusement."
All of a sudden, Neville produced a full sheet of paper and Ron could feel the same impending doom he felt when entering the Quidditch pitch enter his gut. With a puffed up chest of grandiose, Seamus began to read the material.
"...As he grasped her firmly in his hands, our hero moaned his wilting flower's name, "Hermione," passionately as she finally succumbed to his power and his animalistic male force. There was not denying his attraction as he once again moaned, "Hermione" as if it was the only word he knew. With renewed vigor she grabbed his throbbing wand-"
"Neville!" the group shouted as the description took a decidedly adult turn.
"Sorry, it must have slipped into romance novel mode," Neville mumbled, grasping for the paper to tear up, hoping the others wouldn't question why his quick quotes was on "romance" mode in the first place.
"Hehe," Ron chuckled nervously, trying desperately to find a way to climb out of this situation.
"Whatever, mate, just keep it down," Harry sighed, trying desperately to help his friend and get back to sleep and forget the sounds Ron had made.
"Right, sorry." Ron said, turning back into his bed with the rest of the boys.
If Harry was a lucky boy, that would have been it for the evening. He could have resumed his own slightly inappropriate dreaming and never speak a word of this to anyone ever again. Unfortunately, the Boy Who Lived was also the boy who just couldn't catch a break, and it took Ron all of ten seconds to appear beside his bed, casting a silencing charm and rousing Harry from his slumber.
"I wasn't really, you know...doing all of...that." Ron stumbled through.
"What are you talking about?" Harry said, desperately hoping ignorance would give him a pass out of this conversation.
"What Seamus was saying...that wasn't what was going on,"
"...Okay."
"What?"
"Nothing."
"You don't believe me?"
"I don't care."
"But you believe me?"
"Ron, I'll believe whatever you want me to believe so long as you will let me get to sleep."
"Right, sorry."
Harry sighed, the dejection in Ron's voice was enough for him to feel guilty as the best friend. He wanted to talk about things, even if Harry didn't he couldn't ignore that.
"But for what it's worth, if any of that was true...maybe saying something to someone...else might be a good idea. Goodnight."
But there was no sleep to be had. Not for Ron at least, and it wasn't just because of the obnoxiously loud snoring Seamus has that, all of a sudden, not one person minded. Sure, he talked in his sleep, but sounding like a hippograff in heat wasn't that big of an annoyance in comparison to these guys. No, it was something else entirely. It was Hermione. Of course it was. It had been Hermione for weeks, months, possibly even years. It was the one thing he could never stop thinking about. What's worse, it was the one thing he never wanted to stop thinking about either.
It had been a long time coming, but there was one thing he was certain about above anything else. This was the moment Ronald Weasley made not quite the same conclusion as Hermione Granger. He was going to bare it all. He was going to tell her exactly how he felt.
There you have it. Questions? Comments? Review!
