Summary:

Through the temptations and distractions of Quidditch., chocolate éclairs, and the Sun, Ron does his essay! So that he can go to dinner of course.

Ron Weasley was sitting snugly in his seat beside his best friends, Harry Potter and Hermione Granger. He was contentedly sucking on his sugar quill and not paying any attention to McGonagall's lecture. He was deep in thought of the day events. Mainly, breakfast, lunch and dinner. In fact, he was so engrossed in what he was going to have for dinner that he didn't hear his Transfiguration professor calling him.

"Mister Weasley! Mister Weasley! Mister Weasley!" McGonagall screeched, face contorted in anger, frustration at its fullest.

"Ron!" Hermione hissed, jabbing Ron painfully in the ribs, promptly bringing him out of his imaginary turkey dinner. "What?" he hissed back, rubbing his side pitifully.

"Mister Weasley! Can I finally have your attention?" McGonagall questioned, face in a frown.

"No actually. On the other hand... you may."

Ron gulped nervously and gave her a small nod. "I've been noticing Mister Weasley, that your concentration in class and your assignments have not been up to my standards lately. May I ask why?"

"No one is ever up to your standards."

"... Well Professor, it's just that...quidditch has been troubling me. With the final match and all..." Ron trailed, desperately hoping that McGonagall would believe his reason.

"Then perhaps Mister Weasley, you should quit from the quidditch team so that you can concentrate on your education," McGonagall stated.

"Are you mad, woman?!"

"No! I mean, it's not just quidditch practice, my prefect duties have also dragged me down..." Ron quickly said. McGonagall merely raised an eyebrow.

He knew quite well that McGonagall did not believe him due to the fact that he had stopped attending prefect meetings three months ago.

"Who wants to listen to that ferret anyway?"

"But I promise Professor, I'll pay more attention in class!" Ron offered, almost pleading and very pathetic. McGonagall scrutinized him carefully before giving him a slight nod.

"Lucky-"

"As I was asking the class earlier, how many transfiguration disasters have happened this century, Mister Weasley, would you answer that please."

"Not."

Ron shifted in his seat. He didn't know the answer!

"Who would? Oh wait! Hermione would!"

As inconspicuously as he could, he pleadingly glanced at Hermione. Hermione swiftly ignored him and was looking straight at the board.

'Bloody load of help she is!'

Ron then looked at Harry, who was just as confused as he was. Sighing, Ron blurted the first number that came to his mind.

"52? No-make that 53! No... No... 34! On the other hand, 37 does sound better... Maybe 21?"

"Mister Weasley! Choose already!"

"Right, right, hmm... 89 it is then!"

"You're right Mister Weasley, a point to Gryffindor," McGonagall said, face clearly surprised that Ron knew the answer. Ron gave out a small sigh of relief. Grinning happily, he continued his dreams of dinner....only to be interrupted once again by McGonagall.

"Now what?! That was my chicken you disrupting!"

"Mister Weasley! Hand in your assignment please."

'Can't she leave me alone?'

Exasperated, Ron stood up and gave McGonagall his paper on the Colour Difference Between Animagi.

He had barely started thinking of desert when he heard his professor's sharp voice again.

"You know Mister Weasley, your paper lacks description."

"Description? Who bloody cares? At least I did it."

"They do not give me enough information to know the outcome of the Animagi. In fact, your assignments have been lacking in details."

"That's it! I have to find another person to copy from! Maybe Seamus?"

"Tell me, how long do you take to write your papers?"

'Bloody hell...'

"...Well, around half an hour Professor."

"If only she knew this one took me 10 minutes..."

"And what do you do the whole day?"

"Well, first thing in the morning, there's breakfast."

"The most important meal you know. And the eggs here are good. But so are the ones at the Leaky Cauldron. And so are the ones that Mum makes! Waffles are also nice though..."

"Then, there's lessons. After that, there's lunch."

"Also a very important meal..."

"Next there are more lessons, Quidditch practice and finally dinner."

"The best meal of the day if I can say so."

"Afterwards, I plan Quidditch tactics, complete my assignments and lastly go to bed. Unless I'm hungry again and sneak down to the kitch... Never mind. That's about it Professor."

"It's those blasted lessons that take up my time Professor! Just cut them shorter and you won't get them anymore descriptive!"

"I can see why you have been slacking. You have not been organizing your time properly. I expect you to redo this paper and hand it back to me tonight Mister Weasley."

"Fussy, uptight, crackpot of a teacher!"

"And I will make sure that you will not have any dinner till I receive your paper!"

'Nooooooooooooooo! Anything else, just not dinner!'

"...Yes Professor."

"Ron, you coming for Quidditch practice?" Harry asked, his Firebolt perched over his left shoulder.

"No Harry. I have to finish this by dinner!" Ron muttered, staring hard at his Transfiguration book, not understanding a word.

"And if you had let me borrow your essay yesterday night, I wouldn't be in this predicament! You just had to go all Hermione-y on me."

"Right, see you later mate."

Ron sighed and set down his sugar quill. He was determined to finish the paper well enough such that McGonagall would have no chance of discriminating it.

"Not true... just so that she won't make me redo it again."

And more importantly, let him down to dinner! They were having cherry tarts and lamb roast tonight! Now, if only he could concentrate!

Ron sat in a far corner of the common room where no one passed by. A seat he had specifically chose due to the view.

"I need to see the sky! You deny a young boy his brooms!"

Which Hermione had argued that he didn't need a view, cause he would be staring at his book. And had later added that it would divert his attention from his assignment.

"She's a bit of prat, she is. A boy my age needs his views other than all these words. And I can write my essay!"

However, the window in front distracted him from his work as the red and gold clothed players were flying around.

'I should be out there too... Blocking the Quaffle...'

He followed a particular chaser around with his eyes, essay forgotten.

"Good figure that one has... In flying I mean."

That was, until a certain bookworm stalked by.

"Ron! You should be doing your work! Not watching Quidditch! Professor McGonagall will be mad if you don't do it by the end of today!"

"I can't concentrate."

"I told you not to sit in front of the window! You boys are all the same! Not a thought for your work, but plenty for Quidditch!"

"Not true!"

"Well... It is actually."

"I just can't concentrate. The... Sun is too bright."

Hermione seemed to ponder for awhile, before her eyes sparkled with delight.

"Of course! There's this spell we can use! I read it in 'Spells and Charms for the Unfocused and Preoccupied'. Obvolvo." Hermione muttered, pointing her wand at the window.

Immediately, the window sealed itself up, preventing sunlight from entering in, and preventing anyone from looking out.

"There! All better. Now there's nothing stopping you from concentrating on your Transfiguration."

"Oh yes, absolutely marvelous! Now I can stare at the nice red wall instead!"

"Thank you Hermione," Ron said grimly. "Don't you have anywhere you have to go?" He asked, not wanting her to stay and lecture anymore.

"Oh yes! I have to meet with Draco!"

"The bouncy little twitchy ferret."

Ron scowled. He hated the prissy git who called himself her boyfriend. "Go along with Drakie then," he said shooing her off.

"Better him than me, I say. McGonagall Junior she is."

Hermione glared at him before exiting the common room to visit her fellow head.

Ron stared blankly at his parchment.

'What the hell can I write?'

Picking up the Transfiguration textbook he had tossed aside, he once again read through the paragraphs of information.

"Animagi's tend to..."

Half and hour later, Ron was half-way done with his essay.

"Remind myself to claim at all times that she had asked for one, and not three, rolls of parchment."

Deciding that he deserved a break, he laid down his quill and stretched luxuriously. Looking around, he noticed that there were not much people in the common room.

'Seamus and Dean... Chess... Ginny... Exploding Snap... Colin... Photographs... Lavender... Gossiping.... 3rd Years... Chocolate éclairs... Neville... Wait a minute! Chocolate éclairs! My favourite!'

Ron gawked at the 3rd year's éclairs. Unknowingly, he started drooling. It seemed so long since he had last eaten, and dinner was still 2 hours away...

'Chocolate éclairs... Chocolate éclairs... Butterbeer...'

The third year's noticed Ron's staring and started shifting about nervously. They all knew about Ron's ferocious appetite, and they had worked hard to sneak out those éclairs!

"Chocolate éclairs... chocolate éclairs..."

They gathered around to discuss something. Within a moment, one of them grabbed the large plate and ran up into the dorm, the rest of them collecting the butterbeers and running after him.

"Selfish gits!"

Ron groaned miserably as the éclairs drifted out of his view. His stomach rumbled and he groaned again. Picking up the bitten quill, he started once more on his essay, this time with more ideas in his head.

"Here's the essay professor," Ron said as he handed the piece of parchment over to McGonagall. He had worked hard on it and had even done an extra two inches!

"Dinner... dinner... dinner..."

"Thank you Mister Weasley you are free to go now."

Ron happily skipped down to the Great Hall to have his long-awaited dinner with his two best friends who did absolutely nothing to help him.

'Lamb roast and cherry tart, I'm coming now!'

McGonagall was in her office, marking Ron Weasley's paper. She gave out a sigh of exasperation as she finished reading. It was obvious that the boy had not focused! However, the essay was better than the last one.

A low rumble in her tummy caused McGonagall to blush. She had a sudden craving for Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans and éclairs, preferable chocolate. McGonagall left her office to have dinner, only rolling up Ron's parchment midway, leaving the last paragraph free for anyone to read.

"The colours tend to change with the Animagi's characteristics. It can be as brown as the crème found in chocolate éclairs, as black as Pepper Imps or as yellow as the corn served at dinner. It can even be as orange as pumpkin juice! No matter what food colour it is associated with, there is always a special feature to each Animagi, such as there is a different flavour to every Bertie Bott Bean found in the box."