Everyone has dreams. Good ones, bad ones. Then there are the ones that you wish you could forget. Or the dreams you've had all your life that you have now outgrown.

And sometimes, you start to feel like those dreams of yours are coming true while the rest of the world is living a nightmare.

However, no matter what you dream, the morning will always come, and then reality sets in, and your dreams begin to slip away. Isn't that right, Ron?

Whatever you dream, dream a little bit of me.

~xoxo, Gossip Witch

"Why do you look guilty?" Ginny asked, joining Ron on a bench along the fifth-floor corridor. She noticed the Gossip Witch blast balled up in his hand and snickered. "Nevermind. That piece of parchment explains it all."

"What do you want, Gin?" Ron grumbled, looking at her out of the corner of his eye. Leaning back, he scrubbed his hands over his face.

"What happened to you during that match?" she asked, furrowing her brow as she watched him sit up straight and lower his hands away from his face. "I've never seen you miss that many shots."

"I don't know what happened," Ron shrugged, pushing himself up off the bench and shoving his hands in his pockets. He began pacing back and forth along the corridor.

He was lying to Ginny, but he wasn't ready to admit that he bet against his own team. The one thing he would love to know at this exact moment in time is who saw him sneaking away from the prefects' bathroom. Whoever it was better hope that Ron never found out because he would kick their arse.

Ginny watched him for a few moments. She studied his face as he paced back and forth. Something about his story and the blast didn't quite add up, and she was determined to get to the bottom of it. Pushing herself up off the bench, Ginny stepped in front of where Ron was pacing and put her hands on his shoulders.

"First," she began, "you are going to stop pacing and mumbling under your breath about kicking the arse of whoever sent the tip into Gossip Witch. Then, you are going to tell me the truth about your miserable effort today on the pitch. I don't know who the hell was out there playing keeper, but it sure as hell was not my brother, Weasley, Our King."

Ron looked at her for a few moments and let out a heavy sigh as he hung his head. "I bet against us in the match."

"You what?" Ginny shouted, tightening her grip on his shirt. "What the hell do you mean you bet against us?"

"I wasn't given much of a choice," Ron admitted, kicking his foot against the tile of the corridor. "I was basically told if I didn't throw the match, then Gossip Witch was going to be flooded with pictures and tips to use against all of us."

"Who told you that?" Ginny insisted, narrowing her gaze as she thought about the possible culprits.

"I'm not allowed to say," Ron sighed, pulling away from Ginny's grip. "What's done is done. We won't have to worry about it anymore."

"Until the next Quidditch match someone wants to see go a certain way," Ginny hissed, crossing her arms over her chest. "You're damn lucky that Oliver doesn't know what you did or your sorry arse would be thrown off the team."

"Would you rather Gossip Witch start posting pictures of your antics?" Ron yelled, glaring at her.

"Two can play at this game," Ginny replied, looking back at her brother momentarily before storming down the corridor. Someone was going to pay for Gryffindor's loss, that's for sure.

~ xoxo, Gossip Witch ~

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