Ron rolled lazily across the grass, softly grunting when he collided
with Harry's sleeping body. A cricket chirped nearby. The moon was almost
full, and it was floating midway across the diamond-studded sky. All the
redheaded young man could hear was the stirrings of nocturnal forest
creatures and his friend's deep, relaxed breathing. All of the s'mores he'd
eaten earlier filled his bloodstream with sugar, and now, aggravatingly
restless, he was regretting how he'd urged his father to take he and his
friends camping before they had to go back to school next week. Wishing he
could fall asleep, he pulled his blankets tighter around his body and
curled up snugly onto his side.
It was no use. "Trying" to fall asleep works against its purpose, because the harder you try the less relaxed you are, and the less relaxed you are the less likely you are to drift into an unconscious state. Wholly frustrated, he growled and threw his blankets off, sitting up in a rapid, violent motion.
'I wonder what time it is,' he thought, glancing about his surroundings in hopes of a clock of some sort. Unfortunately, he and Harry had opted to be "manly" and sleep outside in the wilderness rather than stay in the fully furnished tent, so unless the trees could tell time there was no hope of him finding any chronographs in the forest.
'Wait a tick,' he mused, 'Doesn't Harry have one of those digital watches?' Ron looked down at the dozing wizard sprawled out next to him, lying on the bare grass without a blanket or pillow. The watch was on the wrist furthest away from him, which was probably about six feet from where Ron was sitting. Sucking in a quick breath of courage, he leaned as far as he could across Harry, reaching desperately for the small silver watch wrapped around his wrist. Just a bit further...two more inches...one more inch...almost-
He could not reach any further without losing his balance, and collapsed heavily atop Harry's chest, his arm still just touching the wristwatch. Harry woke up with a start, and cried out when he saw a large male lying on top of him.
"Eurrgh, get off! What are you DOING?" he yelled, shoving his friend off of him and sending him careening into the bushes.
"I was just trying to see what time it was!" protested Ron, crawling out of the foliage and picking a stick out of his hair. "Gods, don't think I'm getting queerish on you or anything!"
Harry, still staring wide-eyed at his bedmate, shook his head slowly. "That was just weird, Ron. I really don't like waking up to see you lying on top of me." He shuddered at the thought of that, and sat up, scratching the back of his neck and patting the grass surrounding his body in search of his glasses. Once he'd found them and placed them squarely on his nose, he read the time on his watch. "It's like two in the morning," he said with a sigh, "I'm never going to fall back asleep."
"Sorry," sheepishly apologized Ron, sitting in front of the nearby bushes, hunched over his legs. "If it helps, I don't think I'm going to fall asleep anytime soon, either."
The two sat there for several minutes, each engrossed in his own thoughts. Ron was calculating how many hours of rest he'd get depending on what time he might fall asleep, and Harry, being too tired to seriously consider the somber matters of school and the Dark Lord, was thinking about how he'd like to spend the next few peaceful days in nature should this year be his last. An owl hooted nearby, and the dense trees of the forest rustled in the early autumn breeze.
"Are we going fishing tomorrow?" asked Harry, not looking up to face the recipient of this question, but rather staring off silently into space in anticipation of an answer.
"I think so," answered Ron quietly, watching his own freckled toes twitch and wriggle. He batted a seemingly drunken beetle out of the air and stared at Harry, having nothing better to look at. "Mate...I'm so bored."
"Me too," said Harry. "What do you want to do?"
Ron paused to consider this question. "Are the girls still sleeping?"
"Probably...why?"
"Want to play a prank on them?"
Harry's attention shot toward Ron, and he felt himself grow tense and lean forward in interest. "Like what?"
Ron's rosy cheeks cracked into a crooked grin, and he shrugged. "Depends how how badly we want them to kill us when they wake up."
The boys couldn't help but snicker devilishly, and huddled together to whisper a plan into formation.
The next morning, Hermione slowly opened her eyes, deeply breathing in the fresh air of the forest. Reluctantly tearing herself away from the snug warmth of her blankets, she sat up and lazily stretched her arms. That was when she noticed that she was sitting in a very damp spot of the mattress. In fact, whatever had moistened the fitted sheet also must have soaked right through her nightgown and panties. Quickly she threw off her quilt and crawled onto the foot of the bed, peeling layers of wet blankets from the bed until she found the large yellow spot in the mattress. Painful realization that she had somehow peed in her sleep struck her like a city bus, and, rather humiliated, she carefully climbed off the bed and stood up, nauseous from the feeling of urine-drenched underwear clinging to her skin. She glanced across the room towards Ginny- fortunately, the redhead was still soundly asleep with her back towards her companion. So far, Hermione's crime had gone unnoticed. She threw the quilt back over the bed, temporarily concealing the evidence, and snuck towards the bathroom to shower and change clothes.
Just then, Ginny let out a sigh and woke up. Not wanting to linger in bed (she was eager to spend the day with Harry), she sat up, placing her feet in pink fluffy bunny slippers and shuffling across the room towards her small vanity dresser. As per her usual morning schedule, she picked up her hairbrush and ran it through her hair two hundred times, afterwards reveling in its silky, shiny softness. Once that was completed, she shambled towards the bathroom and knocked on the door.
"'Mione, can I come in?"
"Sure!" replied a hollow-sounding voice, marred by the thunder of rushing water. Ginny opened the door and entered the bathroom, wiping a circle of steam off the mirror so that she could view her reflection. Suddenly she screamed in horror and drew back from the sink, backing against the wall and staring aghast at the frightened girl in the mirror.
"What happened?" cried Hermione, turning off the shower and hurrying out from behind the curtain. Once she laid eyes on Ginny, she gasped and placed a hand to her mouth in shock. "What did you do to your HAIR?"
"Nothing!" wailed Ginny, closely inspecting a lock of pink and white striped hair. "I didn't do anything to it, I swear, all I've done so far this morning is brush it." She stopped and returned Hermione's knowing gaze. "You think there was something in my hairbrush?"
"Probably," answered Hermione, still standing completely naked and soaking wet in front of the shower. "Wait, let me see your hair again." Ginny bent over and let her cotton-candy-colored tresses hang in front of her friend. "Yeah, this is definitely some sort of Muggle hair-dye, nothing magical. Let's have a look at the brush then, yeah?" "Okay, let me get it," said Ginny, rushing out of the warm, steamy bathroom and returning seconds later with her black plastic brush. She handed it to the older girl, who closely examined each facet of the object.
"Ooh," remarked Hermione, "I found the culprit." She then removed the bristle pad from the front of the brush, exposing two packets of dye- one white, one pink. "The pressure you put on the brush when you stroked it against your head must have squeezed the dye out of those two little packets and...well, made it soak into your hair." The two girls used this moment of silence to admire the Barbie-themed streaks in poor Ginny's pencil-straight locks.
"Ron," growled the miserable victim.
"What?"
"RON. He did this. That little wanker, I'm going rip his bloody head off!"
"Ginny! I've never heard you curse before..."
"You haven't felt pain until you've felt the wrath of Virginia Weasley!" she yelled, feeling the old family rage seeping into her veins. "Mother FUCKER!" she screamed, kicking the wall and storming out of the room. Hermione didn't dare follow- she had more important matters, such as concealing her golden nighttime spill, to deal with.
Harry and Ron, who had since fallen asleep, didn't notice a slender, candy-haired young girl storming out of the wizard tent and stalking across the grassy clearing towards them. Her brother received a rude awakening- that is, he was kicked in the head.
"What the fuck is this, huh? Huh, RONALD? You think this is funny?" She continued kicking his blanket-rolled body for several minutes while he tried shrieking for Harry to wake up and help him. "Well, you know what I think is funny? Watching you scream in pain!" "Stop, leave me alone!" cried Ron, attempting to catch one of her furiously flailing legs and contain his sister's ferocity. "That was SO unprovoked, Ron! Now you feel MY pain! I was so proud of my beautiful red hair, and you RUINED it!" Finally she fell onto her knees besides her bruised, reclining older brother and began to strike him with her fists.
At last Ron decided to fight back (trying to calm her down was futile), and stood up, using his full power to push his sister onto the grass. "Get AWAY from me, you psycho bitch!"
Ginny sprung back up, lunging at him. Reacting on pure instincts, Ron threw a fist out, and his assailant tumbled onto the ground, utterly unconscious. He breathed a sigh of relief and exhaustion, and turned around to notice Harry staring indignantly at him.
"Ron! Did you just knock out your little sister?!" he exclaimed; the young man had woken up too late to see Ginny attacking Ron, so all he saw was the final blow.
"You don't understand," said Ron, "She was going mad, I swear, she would've tore me limb from limb if I hadn't put her out."
"Let me get this straight," began Harry, "You couldn't contain a petite little girl long enough for your dad or me to wake up, so you punched her in the face and now she's just lying there. Probably very, very injured, I might add."
"No, Harry! You should've seen her going at me! C'mon, you know me- I would never, ever hit a girl if it wasn't out of necessity, especially my own flesh and blood. Nobody these days hits their own flesh and blood, except for those loonies you see in the news."
Harry just stood there and shook his head, green eyes glittering in anger. "You're wrong. People DO hit their own flesh and blood, and you bloody better never hit somebody who can't defend themselves."
Even an outsider would have noticed that the dark-haired boy was over- reacting, and that Ginny honestly needed to be tranquilized for the safety of the general public. Ron regarded Harry with a troubled expression, wondering what exactly was whirling through the young wizard's head.
"Mate, it's alright, don't bug out on me," soothed Ron, attempting to mollify his seething friend, "I don't know if you've got personal issues or what, but just...calm down."
Harry walked across the grass and kneeled next to Ginny, carefully lifting her head and checking for bruises or fractures. "I will not calm down. I will not justify what you just did." Ron ventured a hand towards his sister, but Harry slapped it. "Don't you dare touch her."
"Hey, she's MY sister, I can do whatever I want," snapped Ron, reaching out again.
He's MY nephew, I can do whatever I want!Please Uncle, I'm sorry!WHACK!
A deeply repressed nerve in Harry's mind snapped, and he grabbed Ron's outstretched arm and twisted it until his friend screamed in agony and withdrew his limb. "Get the fuck away from her!" yelled Ginny's self- appointed protector, "I won't let anybody else go through what I did." At that, he gently placed his arms under her head and knees, lifted her into his arms, and carried her back towards the tent.
Ron was left standing in the forest clearing, completely bewildered. Whatever mountains his father had taken them to would surely see loads of action over the next three days.
It was no use. "Trying" to fall asleep works against its purpose, because the harder you try the less relaxed you are, and the less relaxed you are the less likely you are to drift into an unconscious state. Wholly frustrated, he growled and threw his blankets off, sitting up in a rapid, violent motion.
'I wonder what time it is,' he thought, glancing about his surroundings in hopes of a clock of some sort. Unfortunately, he and Harry had opted to be "manly" and sleep outside in the wilderness rather than stay in the fully furnished tent, so unless the trees could tell time there was no hope of him finding any chronographs in the forest.
'Wait a tick,' he mused, 'Doesn't Harry have one of those digital watches?' Ron looked down at the dozing wizard sprawled out next to him, lying on the bare grass without a blanket or pillow. The watch was on the wrist furthest away from him, which was probably about six feet from where Ron was sitting. Sucking in a quick breath of courage, he leaned as far as he could across Harry, reaching desperately for the small silver watch wrapped around his wrist. Just a bit further...two more inches...one more inch...almost-
He could not reach any further without losing his balance, and collapsed heavily atop Harry's chest, his arm still just touching the wristwatch. Harry woke up with a start, and cried out when he saw a large male lying on top of him.
"Eurrgh, get off! What are you DOING?" he yelled, shoving his friend off of him and sending him careening into the bushes.
"I was just trying to see what time it was!" protested Ron, crawling out of the foliage and picking a stick out of his hair. "Gods, don't think I'm getting queerish on you or anything!"
Harry, still staring wide-eyed at his bedmate, shook his head slowly. "That was just weird, Ron. I really don't like waking up to see you lying on top of me." He shuddered at the thought of that, and sat up, scratching the back of his neck and patting the grass surrounding his body in search of his glasses. Once he'd found them and placed them squarely on his nose, he read the time on his watch. "It's like two in the morning," he said with a sigh, "I'm never going to fall back asleep."
"Sorry," sheepishly apologized Ron, sitting in front of the nearby bushes, hunched over his legs. "If it helps, I don't think I'm going to fall asleep anytime soon, either."
The two sat there for several minutes, each engrossed in his own thoughts. Ron was calculating how many hours of rest he'd get depending on what time he might fall asleep, and Harry, being too tired to seriously consider the somber matters of school and the Dark Lord, was thinking about how he'd like to spend the next few peaceful days in nature should this year be his last. An owl hooted nearby, and the dense trees of the forest rustled in the early autumn breeze.
"Are we going fishing tomorrow?" asked Harry, not looking up to face the recipient of this question, but rather staring off silently into space in anticipation of an answer.
"I think so," answered Ron quietly, watching his own freckled toes twitch and wriggle. He batted a seemingly drunken beetle out of the air and stared at Harry, having nothing better to look at. "Mate...I'm so bored."
"Me too," said Harry. "What do you want to do?"
Ron paused to consider this question. "Are the girls still sleeping?"
"Probably...why?"
"Want to play a prank on them?"
Harry's attention shot toward Ron, and he felt himself grow tense and lean forward in interest. "Like what?"
Ron's rosy cheeks cracked into a crooked grin, and he shrugged. "Depends how how badly we want them to kill us when they wake up."
The boys couldn't help but snicker devilishly, and huddled together to whisper a plan into formation.
The next morning, Hermione slowly opened her eyes, deeply breathing in the fresh air of the forest. Reluctantly tearing herself away from the snug warmth of her blankets, she sat up and lazily stretched her arms. That was when she noticed that she was sitting in a very damp spot of the mattress. In fact, whatever had moistened the fitted sheet also must have soaked right through her nightgown and panties. Quickly she threw off her quilt and crawled onto the foot of the bed, peeling layers of wet blankets from the bed until she found the large yellow spot in the mattress. Painful realization that she had somehow peed in her sleep struck her like a city bus, and, rather humiliated, she carefully climbed off the bed and stood up, nauseous from the feeling of urine-drenched underwear clinging to her skin. She glanced across the room towards Ginny- fortunately, the redhead was still soundly asleep with her back towards her companion. So far, Hermione's crime had gone unnoticed. She threw the quilt back over the bed, temporarily concealing the evidence, and snuck towards the bathroom to shower and change clothes.
Just then, Ginny let out a sigh and woke up. Not wanting to linger in bed (she was eager to spend the day with Harry), she sat up, placing her feet in pink fluffy bunny slippers and shuffling across the room towards her small vanity dresser. As per her usual morning schedule, she picked up her hairbrush and ran it through her hair two hundred times, afterwards reveling in its silky, shiny softness. Once that was completed, she shambled towards the bathroom and knocked on the door.
"'Mione, can I come in?"
"Sure!" replied a hollow-sounding voice, marred by the thunder of rushing water. Ginny opened the door and entered the bathroom, wiping a circle of steam off the mirror so that she could view her reflection. Suddenly she screamed in horror and drew back from the sink, backing against the wall and staring aghast at the frightened girl in the mirror.
"What happened?" cried Hermione, turning off the shower and hurrying out from behind the curtain. Once she laid eyes on Ginny, she gasped and placed a hand to her mouth in shock. "What did you do to your HAIR?"
"Nothing!" wailed Ginny, closely inspecting a lock of pink and white striped hair. "I didn't do anything to it, I swear, all I've done so far this morning is brush it." She stopped and returned Hermione's knowing gaze. "You think there was something in my hairbrush?"
"Probably," answered Hermione, still standing completely naked and soaking wet in front of the shower. "Wait, let me see your hair again." Ginny bent over and let her cotton-candy-colored tresses hang in front of her friend. "Yeah, this is definitely some sort of Muggle hair-dye, nothing magical. Let's have a look at the brush then, yeah?" "Okay, let me get it," said Ginny, rushing out of the warm, steamy bathroom and returning seconds later with her black plastic brush. She handed it to the older girl, who closely examined each facet of the object.
"Ooh," remarked Hermione, "I found the culprit." She then removed the bristle pad from the front of the brush, exposing two packets of dye- one white, one pink. "The pressure you put on the brush when you stroked it against your head must have squeezed the dye out of those two little packets and...well, made it soak into your hair." The two girls used this moment of silence to admire the Barbie-themed streaks in poor Ginny's pencil-straight locks.
"Ron," growled the miserable victim.
"What?"
"RON. He did this. That little wanker, I'm going rip his bloody head off!"
"Ginny! I've never heard you curse before..."
"You haven't felt pain until you've felt the wrath of Virginia Weasley!" she yelled, feeling the old family rage seeping into her veins. "Mother FUCKER!" she screamed, kicking the wall and storming out of the room. Hermione didn't dare follow- she had more important matters, such as concealing her golden nighttime spill, to deal with.
Harry and Ron, who had since fallen asleep, didn't notice a slender, candy-haired young girl storming out of the wizard tent and stalking across the grassy clearing towards them. Her brother received a rude awakening- that is, he was kicked in the head.
"What the fuck is this, huh? Huh, RONALD? You think this is funny?" She continued kicking his blanket-rolled body for several minutes while he tried shrieking for Harry to wake up and help him. "Well, you know what I think is funny? Watching you scream in pain!" "Stop, leave me alone!" cried Ron, attempting to catch one of her furiously flailing legs and contain his sister's ferocity. "That was SO unprovoked, Ron! Now you feel MY pain! I was so proud of my beautiful red hair, and you RUINED it!" Finally she fell onto her knees besides her bruised, reclining older brother and began to strike him with her fists.
At last Ron decided to fight back (trying to calm her down was futile), and stood up, using his full power to push his sister onto the grass. "Get AWAY from me, you psycho bitch!"
Ginny sprung back up, lunging at him. Reacting on pure instincts, Ron threw a fist out, and his assailant tumbled onto the ground, utterly unconscious. He breathed a sigh of relief and exhaustion, and turned around to notice Harry staring indignantly at him.
"Ron! Did you just knock out your little sister?!" he exclaimed; the young man had woken up too late to see Ginny attacking Ron, so all he saw was the final blow.
"You don't understand," said Ron, "She was going mad, I swear, she would've tore me limb from limb if I hadn't put her out."
"Let me get this straight," began Harry, "You couldn't contain a petite little girl long enough for your dad or me to wake up, so you punched her in the face and now she's just lying there. Probably very, very injured, I might add."
"No, Harry! You should've seen her going at me! C'mon, you know me- I would never, ever hit a girl if it wasn't out of necessity, especially my own flesh and blood. Nobody these days hits their own flesh and blood, except for those loonies you see in the news."
Harry just stood there and shook his head, green eyes glittering in anger. "You're wrong. People DO hit their own flesh and blood, and you bloody better never hit somebody who can't defend themselves."
Even an outsider would have noticed that the dark-haired boy was over- reacting, and that Ginny honestly needed to be tranquilized for the safety of the general public. Ron regarded Harry with a troubled expression, wondering what exactly was whirling through the young wizard's head.
"Mate, it's alright, don't bug out on me," soothed Ron, attempting to mollify his seething friend, "I don't know if you've got personal issues or what, but just...calm down."
Harry walked across the grass and kneeled next to Ginny, carefully lifting her head and checking for bruises or fractures. "I will not calm down. I will not justify what you just did." Ron ventured a hand towards his sister, but Harry slapped it. "Don't you dare touch her."
"Hey, she's MY sister, I can do whatever I want," snapped Ron, reaching out again.
He's MY nephew, I can do whatever I want!Please Uncle, I'm sorry!WHACK!
A deeply repressed nerve in Harry's mind snapped, and he grabbed Ron's outstretched arm and twisted it until his friend screamed in agony and withdrew his limb. "Get the fuck away from her!" yelled Ginny's self- appointed protector, "I won't let anybody else go through what I did." At that, he gently placed his arms under her head and knees, lifted her into his arms, and carried her back towards the tent.
Ron was left standing in the forest clearing, completely bewildered. Whatever mountains his father had taken them to would surely see loads of action over the next three days.