The Meaning of it All
The boys walked back towards the Gryffindor common room through the dank corridors with light from the lanterns sweeping over their faces, kissing them gently as they passed. The silence was all they heard, apart from the swish of their robes and the scuffle and squeak of their sneakered feet (Harry's still squeaking annoyingly). Tiny echoes bounced off the walls. You could almost hear them laughing as they were swept back and forth under Harry and Ron's feet, each step springing them gleefully from one side of the corridor to the other.
Although Harry didn't want to admit it, Ron's breathing irritated him as he tried to focus all of his energy on forgetting the angry hate in Hermione's eyes. *Couldn't he breath quieter?* He thought to himself. It didn't really bother him, it's just he rather liked the laughter he thought he heard as their feet echoed.
He could ask him, but they never were really honest with each other. And they both knew this – it was a sort of unwritten rule between friends. Sometimes honesty was brutal, even when it seemed like a small thing. These school years were hellish enough without having one moment of brutal honesty wrench you away from the safety of the wonderful, blissful world of denial.
Instead Harry changed from listening to their feet, to watching the flames lick at one another in the lanterns strung along the top of the walls. He liked the way the orange and yellow blended together and swirled in the glass. It's amazing how beautiful things look after you have just been close to being attacked by one of your closest friends. He stopped at one of them to stare into the flames and he ran his fingers through his hair as he stood. Ron had to stop too, to look at him quizzically.
"Harry you could see yourself better in a mirror, you know," Ron said looking mildly curious. "Of course, they'll talk to you and tell you how your just making your hair look worse with your hands always in it." Ron watched as he put his hand down and stopped brushing it through his hair. Harry looked a little embarrassed.
"Yeah," Harry replied. He rather liked the almost white light in the very middle, glistening brightly for all who bothered looking to see. He kept walking with Ron and they now started up the stair case to go get ready for the night.
"Out a little late aren't you, Potter?" Draco Malfoy had appeared at the top of the stairs. "Shouldn't you be getting to *bed?*" Draco had an evil smile on his face as he looked down at Harry, his nose somehow still in the air. His two chums stood stupidly on either side of him and crossed their arms, looking like bouncers in a night club.
It was Friday and Harry had been looking forward to a good weekend doing as little as he could but Malfoy's sudden appearance made it look almost hopeless now. He could find something that Harry had been doing wrong and tattle to Snape. One of the immediate lies he would tell would be that he and Ron had been trying to get down to the Slytherin common room in the dungeons to pester them. He seemed to use that one whenever possible. If Malfoy had seen him starring at the lantern, he'd tell on him for trying to tear it down. Anything was a good lie for Malfoy. Snape would believe anything his favourite student told him about his least favourite student.
"And why are *you* out then, Malfoy?" Harry asked smugly.
"You had better not get *lippy* with me, Potter. Remember,. I'm a prefect." Malfoy smiled with the right side of his mouth, shook his head up and down, and looked at Crabbe and Goyle.
"Yeah? Well I'm a prefect too," Ron said as he puffed out his chest. It reminded Harry of Percy somewhat.
"Get out of my way, *Weasley.*" Malfoy had begun to descend down the stairs starring intently at Harry. Draco's eyes reminded him of the white glowing light that had entranced him just moments before. Harry continued to stare and Ron had been squinting at him trying to hold in his urge to punch him. Malfoy's plan worked as he had hoped. He had distracted Harry and Ron long enough with his gaze, to nudge Goyle in the side as the 'signal.'
Ron went tumbling down the six stairs that he and Harry had climbed loudly and grunting in pain. He hit the bottom with a thud and found out the hard way that the stone floor was very solid as he smacked his head on it painfully. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle laughed loudly and ran down the rest of the steps and out of sight into the dimly light corridors going down to the Slytherin common room, being careful to step on Ron as they went. "Ron!" Harry shouted as he fled down the steps. He fell to his knees. "Are you okay?" Harry looked down at him almost motherly. He put his hand gently on his arm and shook him slightly. Ron stirred and tried to get up.
"I'm going to KILL Malfoy!" he said as he laid his hand on the ground to push himself up. Harry took his hand off of his arm and placed it on his chest pinning him down. Harry moved to where he was almost directly over Ron.
"You and I both know well, that Malfoy'd win in a fight with Crabbe and Goyle stuck up his ass guarding him like precious jewels or something."
"More like food," Ron said looking disgusted.
Harry laughed and said, "anyway, we'd just get in trouble. You know that he and Snape are out to get us anyway. What's the point of just letting Malfoy win by landing us in detention?"
"I'll kill him later then," Ron said crudely, "when my head doesn't hurt so I can remember every bit of Malfoy's pathetic face as he DIES." Harry looked away and didn't say anything. He had obviously been slightly hurt and offended by that. His parents were killed and he was sure Voldemort had enjoyed killing them. Ron had seen his expression too, but it changed.
"Right, Ron!" Harry bellowed. "You'd really like to see him die wouldn't you?"
"Harry –"
"NO ONE EVEN CARES ABOUT ME ANYMORE! No one saw HIM come back! No one saw Cedric DIE. You know Voldemort killed my parents! I bet he liked watching them die too, Ron." Ron flinched at the sound of Voldemort's name and Harry saw it. "Voldemort, Voldemort, Voldemort, Voldemort! Get used to it, Ron! You all just think it's good fun to laugh and joke about it! Don't you? DON'T YOU?" He looked Ron in the eye and quickly he turned away.
"Oh, Harry. Harry I'm so sorry. I –"
"No, it's ok," Harry said without meaning a single word. He didn't think it was ok, but he didn't want to scream anymore. He had been telling Ron off for every slip he made, but it was worth it. He needed some way to vent his frustration. Ron just happened to be one of those ways.
Harry got to his feet. The warmth that Harry had passed to Ron through his hand had gone far too quickly for Ron's liking. Harry held out his hand to help Ron up. He took it and stood up quickly making him dizzy and making his throbbing head spin. "Thanks," Ron said very low. He couldn't look at Harry anymore, or think of anything else to say.
"You're welcome," Harry spat.
The boys turned to walk back to Gryffindor Tower, once again, in chilling silence the whole way. Harry took long, slow steps and thought about what Ron had just said. The topic of death always hit him hard but this was a little much coming from his best friend. He had so openly addressed the topic right in front of him – speaking to him. *What was Ron thinking doing an awful thing like that*, Harry thought. *Why am I even making such a fuss about it? I should just get to bed in one piece to enjoy tomorrow. And my God, can't Ron stop annoying me for one bloody second?*
Ron was dragging his feet slightly as he staggered aimlessly down the corridor with his hand placed firmly on the back of his head rubbing his lump and trying not to look afraid. He kept bumping into Harry, too, but the sound of his feet scraping across the floor irked him terribly. Harry drowned out the sound of it by thinking of all the happiness that would come tomorrow. A smile spread on his face and warmth spread through his chilled body. Dark corridors get very cold at night, especially when one was already wet and freezing.
Harry's stomach turned and growled. He had just become aware that he hadn't eaten since lunch. Quidditch practice had, again, made him skip dinner. The warmth that he had felt from the happy thoughts so briefly now faded and the depressing ones took over Harry's brain, flooding his head with misery. He squinted through something that was almost pain. The cold swept over him like it had the first time he had felt a Dementor, back on the train in his third year at Hogwarts. A shiver ran down his legs and he almost fell to the side.
"Macsnooglehimer," Ron said halfheartedly.
They had reached the common room portrait hole of the Fat Lady, who didn't seem to mind that they were Hermioneless, much more quickly than Harry realized now that he wasn't thinking about getting there. "I hate that password," Ron complained, "it reminds me of Krum." He and Ron entered to find the dim, but familiar common room empty, except for Euan Abercrombie who was lost in a pile of books and rolls of parchment. Poor boy, thought Harry. It was amazing that he felt sympathy for anyone now. *What kind of loser does this much work on a Friday night?* Then he thought again, *Hermione.*
It was a little odd that no one else was there. Older prefects had probably told them all to go to bed, since both of the fifth year ones were out. Ron didn't do much prefecting anyway. Still, it was weird that they listened to them, and had gone to bed. Hermione had probably shaken them all up quite a bit for that to happen. Harry's mind was still catching up with him and as a result he suddenly slipped on a rock that he had most likely drug in from Quidditch. It rolled under his sneakers making him fall to the floor, slamming his face on the ground. It smashed his nose, but it didn't bleed. Although he got a small cut on his face from yet another rock, and it stung. Euan looked up from his work and had to stand to see what had happened because he was only a first year stuck behind a mountain of literature.
"Just what I need," said Harry annoyed, "another damn scar on my face!" He pushed himself off the ground and got to his feet. He and Ron continued to go to the boy's dorm to go to sleep as everyone else had. Harry stomped up the stairs loudly and then opened the door to the fifth year quarters. It seemed that Hermione *had* shaken them all well because they were all asleep.
The window nearest to Harry's four poster was slightly ajar and water had spilled into the room onto the floor. "Dammit," Harry said nettled, "who left the window open?" It had been him and he knew it, but he wanted to blame someone else since he had been to blame for everything else that night: Hermione, Ron getting shoved down the stairs, his new scrape. He rolled his eyes and shut it loudly.
"Harry, you're gonna wake someone up," Ron said rubbing his eyes. Harry looked at him meaningly but didn't say anything. It was amazing how sleep lured everyone in that night. The room had to be under some kind of charm that they were unaware of. At any rate, they didn't care. They changed into their night clothes and climbed into bed. Harry threw his glasses on the table beside his bed and huffed.
"Good-night," Ron said sleepily.
"Night," he returned in his most gruff voice he could manage.
Harry ruffled the blankets many times and tossed around unable to find his comfortable spot that he had made over the past few years. Ron, however, had been able to drift of easily and it made Harry slightly choleric and envious. Poor Ron had felt this way about Harry ever since they had first met. Harry was always the star of the show, the one to get all the glory, while Ron had been out shined by his older brothers all his life.
Harry lied there, in the same wrong place in his bed for ten minutes watching as the room got steadily lighter as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. The waxing crescent moon outside wasn't giving off much light and neither were the stars, but Harry could still see well, even without his glasses. His eyes were wide open and he starred up to his four poster like he was expecting something from it.
An owl fluttered by the window to come back from a late delivery to the Owlery and Harry watched the shadow fly across the room nimbly. It was quiet and still in the dormitory. Occasionally someone would move to situate themselves better in their beds for a more comfortable night's sleep, but nothing unusual.
After another ten minutes of lying in the same wrong spot in his bed, a new noise came into play as Ron had started to snore softly but only episodically. It hardly bothered Harry. After all, he was in a better mood than he had been in earlier and he was used to it by now. It only happened every few minutes, so why get flustered over it? He was going to have a good day whether he had a good night's sleep or not. He was determined.
Harry was now bored. He had been lying in bed for twenty-five minutes without the slightest glimmer of sleep meeting his eyes. The movements of the people in his dorm had ceased and the only noise he heard was the soft buzz in his ears, his thoughts rambling in his head, and an occasional grunting snore from Ron. He looked over at Ron who, like Harry, hadn't closed his hangings around his bed that night, for something to do, something to occupy him for a while. He had his hand on his stomach and his left arm and leg were bent somewhat. His mouth hung open stupidly, but he looked calm, almost attractive lying on his back, but Ron was boring, too.
Shadows were the most impressing thing Harry found to look at. The pole of his bed cast a long thin line of a shadow on Neville's bed hangings that looked like Gumby if you squinted a little. Harry chuckled softly and resituated himself in his bed. He had found his comfy spot now. He could feel it. The perfect indentation of his body fit beautifully in the sag. If you were to look for it, you couldn't see it, but you could feel it if you were to lie in it. Harry closed his eyes.
He was now lying on his right side, with his left knee slightly bent. He felt all tension leave him and all the worries of the day depart. He sunk further into his 'spot' and raised his right hand towards his head, to lay it on the pillow gently. His other, lay on his midriff passively. Harry and sleep soon found each other and they drifted away together in the calm, cool night. His head was blank and resting.
Ron's, however, wasn't. Although sleep had caught up with him much sooner than it did with Harry, his mind was still wide awake. It was taking him back to about a year ago, somewhere in Diagon Alley. He was walking with Fred and George but he didn't remember when this was. They were walking directly behind him on the crowded street and whispering fervently to one another. Ron heard them, but payed it no attention. He was too involved with watching all sorts of interesting people flood the street as they walked hastily along.
And elderly woman was sitting at a table wearing a long green robe that reminded him distinctly of Professor McGonagall's robe with a young girl reading a book that reminded him of another person he knew well, Hermione. He chuckled softly to himself and dug through his pockets for some Ice Mice. He didn't have any of the delicious treats left though, because he had eaten the last one earlier down the street. He rather enjoyed listening to his teeth rattle like he was freezing. The whispers from Fred and George were gone.
He looked back and they had stopped two stores down, huddled together, apparently discussing something. He rolled his eyes and jogged back to them. "Nice of you to tell me you stopped ya know," he said offhandedly. The whispering abruptly stopped and the twins looked up nervously at the same time looking pale. Their freckles shined brilliantly on their faces and both of their eyes were fixed on Ron.
Please let me know what you think now. Can you make heads or tails of it? Review please.
The boys walked back towards the Gryffindor common room through the dank corridors with light from the lanterns sweeping over their faces, kissing them gently as they passed. The silence was all they heard, apart from the swish of their robes and the scuffle and squeak of their sneakered feet (Harry's still squeaking annoyingly). Tiny echoes bounced off the walls. You could almost hear them laughing as they were swept back and forth under Harry and Ron's feet, each step springing them gleefully from one side of the corridor to the other.
Although Harry didn't want to admit it, Ron's breathing irritated him as he tried to focus all of his energy on forgetting the angry hate in Hermione's eyes. *Couldn't he breath quieter?* He thought to himself. It didn't really bother him, it's just he rather liked the laughter he thought he heard as their feet echoed.
He could ask him, but they never were really honest with each other. And they both knew this – it was a sort of unwritten rule between friends. Sometimes honesty was brutal, even when it seemed like a small thing. These school years were hellish enough without having one moment of brutal honesty wrench you away from the safety of the wonderful, blissful world of denial.
Instead Harry changed from listening to their feet, to watching the flames lick at one another in the lanterns strung along the top of the walls. He liked the way the orange and yellow blended together and swirled in the glass. It's amazing how beautiful things look after you have just been close to being attacked by one of your closest friends. He stopped at one of them to stare into the flames and he ran his fingers through his hair as he stood. Ron had to stop too, to look at him quizzically.
"Harry you could see yourself better in a mirror, you know," Ron said looking mildly curious. "Of course, they'll talk to you and tell you how your just making your hair look worse with your hands always in it." Ron watched as he put his hand down and stopped brushing it through his hair. Harry looked a little embarrassed.
"Yeah," Harry replied. He rather liked the almost white light in the very middle, glistening brightly for all who bothered looking to see. He kept walking with Ron and they now started up the stair case to go get ready for the night.
"Out a little late aren't you, Potter?" Draco Malfoy had appeared at the top of the stairs. "Shouldn't you be getting to *bed?*" Draco had an evil smile on his face as he looked down at Harry, his nose somehow still in the air. His two chums stood stupidly on either side of him and crossed their arms, looking like bouncers in a night club.
It was Friday and Harry had been looking forward to a good weekend doing as little as he could but Malfoy's sudden appearance made it look almost hopeless now. He could find something that Harry had been doing wrong and tattle to Snape. One of the immediate lies he would tell would be that he and Ron had been trying to get down to the Slytherin common room in the dungeons to pester them. He seemed to use that one whenever possible. If Malfoy had seen him starring at the lantern, he'd tell on him for trying to tear it down. Anything was a good lie for Malfoy. Snape would believe anything his favourite student told him about his least favourite student.
"And why are *you* out then, Malfoy?" Harry asked smugly.
"You had better not get *lippy* with me, Potter. Remember,. I'm a prefect." Malfoy smiled with the right side of his mouth, shook his head up and down, and looked at Crabbe and Goyle.
"Yeah? Well I'm a prefect too," Ron said as he puffed out his chest. It reminded Harry of Percy somewhat.
"Get out of my way, *Weasley.*" Malfoy had begun to descend down the stairs starring intently at Harry. Draco's eyes reminded him of the white glowing light that had entranced him just moments before. Harry continued to stare and Ron had been squinting at him trying to hold in his urge to punch him. Malfoy's plan worked as he had hoped. He had distracted Harry and Ron long enough with his gaze, to nudge Goyle in the side as the 'signal.'
Ron went tumbling down the six stairs that he and Harry had climbed loudly and grunting in pain. He hit the bottom with a thud and found out the hard way that the stone floor was very solid as he smacked his head on it painfully. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle laughed loudly and ran down the rest of the steps and out of sight into the dimly light corridors going down to the Slytherin common room, being careful to step on Ron as they went. "Ron!" Harry shouted as he fled down the steps. He fell to his knees. "Are you okay?" Harry looked down at him almost motherly. He put his hand gently on his arm and shook him slightly. Ron stirred and tried to get up.
"I'm going to KILL Malfoy!" he said as he laid his hand on the ground to push himself up. Harry took his hand off of his arm and placed it on his chest pinning him down. Harry moved to where he was almost directly over Ron.
"You and I both know well, that Malfoy'd win in a fight with Crabbe and Goyle stuck up his ass guarding him like precious jewels or something."
"More like food," Ron said looking disgusted.
Harry laughed and said, "anyway, we'd just get in trouble. You know that he and Snape are out to get us anyway. What's the point of just letting Malfoy win by landing us in detention?"
"I'll kill him later then," Ron said crudely, "when my head doesn't hurt so I can remember every bit of Malfoy's pathetic face as he DIES." Harry looked away and didn't say anything. He had obviously been slightly hurt and offended by that. His parents were killed and he was sure Voldemort had enjoyed killing them. Ron had seen his expression too, but it changed.
"Right, Ron!" Harry bellowed. "You'd really like to see him die wouldn't you?"
"Harry –"
"NO ONE EVEN CARES ABOUT ME ANYMORE! No one saw HIM come back! No one saw Cedric DIE. You know Voldemort killed my parents! I bet he liked watching them die too, Ron." Ron flinched at the sound of Voldemort's name and Harry saw it. "Voldemort, Voldemort, Voldemort, Voldemort! Get used to it, Ron! You all just think it's good fun to laugh and joke about it! Don't you? DON'T YOU?" He looked Ron in the eye and quickly he turned away.
"Oh, Harry. Harry I'm so sorry. I –"
"No, it's ok," Harry said without meaning a single word. He didn't think it was ok, but he didn't want to scream anymore. He had been telling Ron off for every slip he made, but it was worth it. He needed some way to vent his frustration. Ron just happened to be one of those ways.
Harry got to his feet. The warmth that Harry had passed to Ron through his hand had gone far too quickly for Ron's liking. Harry held out his hand to help Ron up. He took it and stood up quickly making him dizzy and making his throbbing head spin. "Thanks," Ron said very low. He couldn't look at Harry anymore, or think of anything else to say.
"You're welcome," Harry spat.
The boys turned to walk back to Gryffindor Tower, once again, in chilling silence the whole way. Harry took long, slow steps and thought about what Ron had just said. The topic of death always hit him hard but this was a little much coming from his best friend. He had so openly addressed the topic right in front of him – speaking to him. *What was Ron thinking doing an awful thing like that*, Harry thought. *Why am I even making such a fuss about it? I should just get to bed in one piece to enjoy tomorrow. And my God, can't Ron stop annoying me for one bloody second?*
Ron was dragging his feet slightly as he staggered aimlessly down the corridor with his hand placed firmly on the back of his head rubbing his lump and trying not to look afraid. He kept bumping into Harry, too, but the sound of his feet scraping across the floor irked him terribly. Harry drowned out the sound of it by thinking of all the happiness that would come tomorrow. A smile spread on his face and warmth spread through his chilled body. Dark corridors get very cold at night, especially when one was already wet and freezing.
Harry's stomach turned and growled. He had just become aware that he hadn't eaten since lunch. Quidditch practice had, again, made him skip dinner. The warmth that he had felt from the happy thoughts so briefly now faded and the depressing ones took over Harry's brain, flooding his head with misery. He squinted through something that was almost pain. The cold swept over him like it had the first time he had felt a Dementor, back on the train in his third year at Hogwarts. A shiver ran down his legs and he almost fell to the side.
"Macsnooglehimer," Ron said halfheartedly.
They had reached the common room portrait hole of the Fat Lady, who didn't seem to mind that they were Hermioneless, much more quickly than Harry realized now that he wasn't thinking about getting there. "I hate that password," Ron complained, "it reminds me of Krum." He and Ron entered to find the dim, but familiar common room empty, except for Euan Abercrombie who was lost in a pile of books and rolls of parchment. Poor boy, thought Harry. It was amazing that he felt sympathy for anyone now. *What kind of loser does this much work on a Friday night?* Then he thought again, *Hermione.*
It was a little odd that no one else was there. Older prefects had probably told them all to go to bed, since both of the fifth year ones were out. Ron didn't do much prefecting anyway. Still, it was weird that they listened to them, and had gone to bed. Hermione had probably shaken them all up quite a bit for that to happen. Harry's mind was still catching up with him and as a result he suddenly slipped on a rock that he had most likely drug in from Quidditch. It rolled under his sneakers making him fall to the floor, slamming his face on the ground. It smashed his nose, but it didn't bleed. Although he got a small cut on his face from yet another rock, and it stung. Euan looked up from his work and had to stand to see what had happened because he was only a first year stuck behind a mountain of literature.
"Just what I need," said Harry annoyed, "another damn scar on my face!" He pushed himself off the ground and got to his feet. He and Ron continued to go to the boy's dorm to go to sleep as everyone else had. Harry stomped up the stairs loudly and then opened the door to the fifth year quarters. It seemed that Hermione *had* shaken them all well because they were all asleep.
The window nearest to Harry's four poster was slightly ajar and water had spilled into the room onto the floor. "Dammit," Harry said nettled, "who left the window open?" It had been him and he knew it, but he wanted to blame someone else since he had been to blame for everything else that night: Hermione, Ron getting shoved down the stairs, his new scrape. He rolled his eyes and shut it loudly.
"Harry, you're gonna wake someone up," Ron said rubbing his eyes. Harry looked at him meaningly but didn't say anything. It was amazing how sleep lured everyone in that night. The room had to be under some kind of charm that they were unaware of. At any rate, they didn't care. They changed into their night clothes and climbed into bed. Harry threw his glasses on the table beside his bed and huffed.
"Good-night," Ron said sleepily.
"Night," he returned in his most gruff voice he could manage.
Harry ruffled the blankets many times and tossed around unable to find his comfortable spot that he had made over the past few years. Ron, however, had been able to drift of easily and it made Harry slightly choleric and envious. Poor Ron had felt this way about Harry ever since they had first met. Harry was always the star of the show, the one to get all the glory, while Ron had been out shined by his older brothers all his life.
Harry lied there, in the same wrong place in his bed for ten minutes watching as the room got steadily lighter as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. The waxing crescent moon outside wasn't giving off much light and neither were the stars, but Harry could still see well, even without his glasses. His eyes were wide open and he starred up to his four poster like he was expecting something from it.
An owl fluttered by the window to come back from a late delivery to the Owlery and Harry watched the shadow fly across the room nimbly. It was quiet and still in the dormitory. Occasionally someone would move to situate themselves better in their beds for a more comfortable night's sleep, but nothing unusual.
After another ten minutes of lying in the same wrong spot in his bed, a new noise came into play as Ron had started to snore softly but only episodically. It hardly bothered Harry. After all, he was in a better mood than he had been in earlier and he was used to it by now. It only happened every few minutes, so why get flustered over it? He was going to have a good day whether he had a good night's sleep or not. He was determined.
Harry was now bored. He had been lying in bed for twenty-five minutes without the slightest glimmer of sleep meeting his eyes. The movements of the people in his dorm had ceased and the only noise he heard was the soft buzz in his ears, his thoughts rambling in his head, and an occasional grunting snore from Ron. He looked over at Ron who, like Harry, hadn't closed his hangings around his bed that night, for something to do, something to occupy him for a while. He had his hand on his stomach and his left arm and leg were bent somewhat. His mouth hung open stupidly, but he looked calm, almost attractive lying on his back, but Ron was boring, too.
Shadows were the most impressing thing Harry found to look at. The pole of his bed cast a long thin line of a shadow on Neville's bed hangings that looked like Gumby if you squinted a little. Harry chuckled softly and resituated himself in his bed. He had found his comfy spot now. He could feel it. The perfect indentation of his body fit beautifully in the sag. If you were to look for it, you couldn't see it, but you could feel it if you were to lie in it. Harry closed his eyes.
He was now lying on his right side, with his left knee slightly bent. He felt all tension leave him and all the worries of the day depart. He sunk further into his 'spot' and raised his right hand towards his head, to lay it on the pillow gently. His other, lay on his midriff passively. Harry and sleep soon found each other and they drifted away together in the calm, cool night. His head was blank and resting.
Ron's, however, wasn't. Although sleep had caught up with him much sooner than it did with Harry, his mind was still wide awake. It was taking him back to about a year ago, somewhere in Diagon Alley. He was walking with Fred and George but he didn't remember when this was. They were walking directly behind him on the crowded street and whispering fervently to one another. Ron heard them, but payed it no attention. He was too involved with watching all sorts of interesting people flood the street as they walked hastily along.
And elderly woman was sitting at a table wearing a long green robe that reminded him distinctly of Professor McGonagall's robe with a young girl reading a book that reminded him of another person he knew well, Hermione. He chuckled softly to himself and dug through his pockets for some Ice Mice. He didn't have any of the delicious treats left though, because he had eaten the last one earlier down the street. He rather enjoyed listening to his teeth rattle like he was freezing. The whispers from Fred and George were gone.
He looked back and they had stopped two stores down, huddled together, apparently discussing something. He rolled his eyes and jogged back to them. "Nice of you to tell me you stopped ya know," he said offhandedly. The whispering abruptly stopped and the twins looked up nervously at the same time looking pale. Their freckles shined brilliantly on their faces and both of their eyes were fixed on Ron.
Please let me know what you think now. Can you make heads or tails of it? Review please.