Jackie: Well. This file's been sitting on my computer for...over a year. Wow.
RakitWhore: Aren't we just Little Miss Procrastinate?
Draco-muse: Hmph. I'm not even in this one. It's not important.
Takeru-muse: Shove it, Ron needs some love, too. Especially since Jackie picks on him so much.
Jackie: Yeah, you all know I don't own Draco, but I don't own Ron either. Also, this fic, unlike my others, shows my true preference in the whole H/Hr (gag) vs. R/Hr (yay!) debate.
RakitWhore: And it's a ((gag barf)) Rentfic.
Draco-muse: What's wrong with Rent?
RakitWhore: I just hate having to listen to it every time I go over there. Anyways, Enjoy!
One more week.
Looking out the window of his room at The Burrow, Ron Weasley sighed. One month before his angel came back. One month before he could apologize for being a stupid git the last time they saw each other. She had charmed her hair straight, and he told her he didn't like it. She got upset and left without even saying goodbye. But what I meant was, he thought, I liked it just the way it was. It was beautiful. He had sent owl after owl to her, and she had finally accepted his invitation to stay with him for the rest of the summer...in one week.
From the top of the house, he could look down on the garden and see the dew forming on the grass. It was still very early, and the sun was just starting to come up. A single raindrop hit the windowpane, and soon a light summer shower was coming down. Not enough to water the plants well, but enough to make the morning humid and uncomfortable. He could see the flower heads poking up just above the grass, which he would need to cut soon.
Without you
The ground thaws
The rain falls
The grass grows
As the sun made its way into the sky, Ron managed to drag himself out of bed and throw on some clothes that vaguely went together; well, they at least covered everything important. A very worn out, very orange Chudley Cannons tee-shirt, some faded black jeans cut off at the knees, and the baseball cap Harry had given him for Christmas. He tied up his now shoulder-length red hair and stuffed it under the cap, hoping that his mother would continue to not notice it. It was bad enough having Bill and his kids in the house as it was. Checking his reflection, he tucked a loose strand under the hat and made his way downstairs.
When he reached the family room, he could see his mother outside, working in the garden. She took advantage of the damp earth to plant the seeds she had bought in Diagon Alley a week ago. Next to her, picking dandelion flowers and piling them on the porch, was little Sabri, Bill's daughter. She saw Ron and smiled, waving her tiny 1 ½ -year old hand at her "Unkon" before chasing after a butterfly hovering around the yard. Sabri meant patience in Arabic, and it paid off for his mother in waiting for a grandchild. If only Ron had more.
Without you
The seeds root
The flowers bloom
The children play
The day seemed to drag on, but eventually the sun began to sink over the horizon. Trying to avoid the chaos that usually erupted at night when Fred and George got home from work and started making mischief, and the never-ending struggle to get little Sabri first in, then out of, the bathtub, Ron climbed out the window of his room and stretched out on the rooftop. As the sky darkened into colors from deep crimson to midnight violet, Ron gazed up at the silhouette of a large bird circling in the sky overhead and the stars beginning to twinkle in the heavens.
"Like nature's patient, sleepless Eremite, the moving waters at their priestlike task of pure ablution round earth's human shores…"
"When'd you get so poetic, Ron?"
Ron turned his head to see George sit down next to him. Smiling, Ron looked back up at the now multiplying stars. "It's from a book Hermione gave me for Christmas last year. John Keats. Don't tell her I actually read it or anything, though…"
George laughed and shook his head. Once he got away from Hogwarts and actually found himself in the real world, both he and Fred had gotten a tad more serious, but still had that fun-loving nature about them. He now looked at his little brother, who was gazing longingly up at the stars, baseball cap ajar and red hair spread out behind him. "You miss her, don't you?"
Ron winced, and pulled the brim of the cap over his eyes. "Is it that bloody obvious?"
George laughed softly and plopped Ron's baseball cap over his face. "Don't worry so much. Whatever it is you've done, she'll forgive you. It takes someone like her to forgive brainless gits like us." With that, he silently slipped back in the window into the house, leaving Ron alone to think.
The stars gleam
The poets dream
The eagles fly
Without you
Before he knew it, Ron found himself waking up to the morning sky. "Bloody hell, I must have been out here all night," he muttered, rubbing his head and feeling the beginnings of a painful sunburn on his cheeks and arms. Looking down at the yard below, he saw his mother and Sabri once again tending the garden, and smiled slightly. "I'd better get inside before Mum has a fit," he grumbled as he tried to crawl back into the window.
However, as he tried to gain his footing, the morning dew that had settled on the roof caused his foot to slip. Grabbing for the windowsill, his fingers fell just inches short as he slid off, plummeting down to the ground.
Little Sari screaming was the last thing he heard before he hit the ground and everything went black.
The earth turns
The sun burns
But I die
Without you
Jackie: Cliffie!
RakitWhore: Great. This means I have to listen to Without You even more. Why?
Draco-muse: Learn to love it you shall.
Takeru-muse: Yes, Rent is the path to enlightenment.
RakitWhore: You only say that because you live in her head. I remember when Jackie used to be normal, people.
Jackie: I deny everything. Stay Tuned! Next up, Hermione's POV.
Jackie, Takeru-muse, and Draco-muse: NO DAY BUT TODAY!
RakitWhore: Ugh. Kill me.