Disclamer: I own none of these characters, they belong to JKR I am only
borrowing them.
Chapter four: Clock
Ron was at his worst. He sat at the kitchen table, paralyzed and staring at the clock. He saw his father's arrow, it still said work. The ran his fingers nervously through his red hair for the millionth time that day. His breath was coming out in almost ragged gasps He could not handle this it was one of the most antagonizing feelings that he had ever had. The last time he had felt this way was waiting at the end of the fourth task to find out weather Harry was alive or dead. Only now it was his father.
Ron stood up knocking his chair backwards with the sudden swift movement. He had to get out of here he was going completely crazy with the cabin feaver that was welling up inside of him. His mother's stressed busseling didn't help either as she too looked at the clock ten times a minute.
He grabbed his broom as he walked out the door and ran down to the clearing. He had to get his mind off the ministry and the news that had blared through the wireless. He was in shock. He flew around on his broom trying desprately to concentrate on anything other then the recent events of the day. He aimed at trees and birds, not very well but the concentration required his entire brain, not leaving room to think.
"You're going to kill yourself!" A voice called from the ground beneath him. Ron looked down it was Ginny. "Who do you think you are anyway, Harry Potter?"
Ron pulled out of a rather bad dive to land next to her, she looked just as worried as he did and likes she may have been crying.
"I needed something to do Gin." She took his words in silence knowing all too well what he meant by them.
"Ron, do you think he's ok?" Her voice was pleading as she said it.
"Yeah, he's probably fine." It was a lie, Ron had begun to fear the worst.
"RON GINNY GET BACK HERE NOW!" Mrs. Weasely's voice rang through the air from the house. They started back at a sprint, desprate for any news.
When they entered the house they looked immediately up at the clock on the wall: Their father's arrow was directly between work and home.Hss
Chapter four: Clock
Ron was at his worst. He sat at the kitchen table, paralyzed and staring at the clock. He saw his father's arrow, it still said work. The ran his fingers nervously through his red hair for the millionth time that day. His breath was coming out in almost ragged gasps He could not handle this it was one of the most antagonizing feelings that he had ever had. The last time he had felt this way was waiting at the end of the fourth task to find out weather Harry was alive or dead. Only now it was his father.
Ron stood up knocking his chair backwards with the sudden swift movement. He had to get out of here he was going completely crazy with the cabin feaver that was welling up inside of him. His mother's stressed busseling didn't help either as she too looked at the clock ten times a minute.
He grabbed his broom as he walked out the door and ran down to the clearing. He had to get his mind off the ministry and the news that had blared through the wireless. He was in shock. He flew around on his broom trying desprately to concentrate on anything other then the recent events of the day. He aimed at trees and birds, not very well but the concentration required his entire brain, not leaving room to think.
"You're going to kill yourself!" A voice called from the ground beneath him. Ron looked down it was Ginny. "Who do you think you are anyway, Harry Potter?"
Ron pulled out of a rather bad dive to land next to her, she looked just as worried as he did and likes she may have been crying.
"I needed something to do Gin." She took his words in silence knowing all too well what he meant by them.
"Ron, do you think he's ok?" Her voice was pleading as she said it.
"Yeah, he's probably fine." It was a lie, Ron had begun to fear the worst.
"RON GINNY GET BACK HERE NOW!" Mrs. Weasely's voice rang through the air from the house. They started back at a sprint, desprate for any news.
When they entered the house they looked immediately up at the clock on the wall: Their father's arrow was directly between work and home.Hss