"What the hell are you doing here." Hermione screamed at Ron who lay in a heap on the floor.

"Wh-where did you come from?" Harry asked.

Ron who was rubbing the back of his neck vigorously allowed his eyes to scan over to Hermione's luggage case.

"You have got to be joking."

"Well." Was all that Ron could say.

'That's why it felt so heavy.' Harry thought.

"Well, well…Is that all you can say. I…You…I," Hermione screamed, seeming to be at a loss for words herself. Rosslyn, whose expression was that of extreme shock, tried to calm Hermione down.

"Sh…Hermione chill out for a sec." Her attention shifted to Ron, "And can you please tell me who the fuck you are, and why you're sprawled out on my bedroom floor."

"I-I'm Ron."

"Great, that still doesn't explain why you're in my house." Even though her tone was harsh her voice was quite low.

Harry, who up until now was lost for words, felt it was time to step in. He was a bit wary though, being as that Rosslyn looked like she was about to kick Ron's ass, and to be honest she was very intimidating.

"Okay, okay. Everyone just needs to calm down." Harry said as he offered Ron a hand, "And Ron why don't you explain what you're doing here."

"Th-thanks," He said still looking at Rosslyn cautiously, "Honestly, I just wanted to know what you guys were up to."

"So you decided to scare the crap out of us?" Said Hermione still heated from her previous statement.

"No…no that wasn't what…look I'm sorry Hermione." He said apologetically, "You know I would never do that on purpose. I was just so cramped up in there."

"How did you get through the airport without anyone noticing?" Harry asked interested.

"Those muggle contraptions they have can't penetrate even the simplest of concealment charms."

"But what about the weight? Mind you it was quite heavy, but you definitely lessened your weight somehow. How'd you do it?" Harry questioned.

"That was just another effortless spell, to tell you the truth I wish I had done a spell to make it more comfortable in there,"

Harry looked at the luggage case then backed to Ron. There was no way, it just wasn't logical.

"But where did you learn all these spells?" Harry was seriously confused. It just wasn't like Ron. I mean he wouldn't put it passed him to stow away to America with them, in fact it was a very Ron-esque thing to do. But he would never expect him to do it on his own, not without help. Ron was looking at Hermione now.

"Well, 'Mione lent me some of her spell books and…"

"Oh no, don't tell me you learned it from those books." Hermione said angrily.

"Well I did."

"You've been…reading?" Harry asked astonished.

"I'd expect you'd learn some common sense from those books Ron…this, this is just not…well for lack of a better word, sensible." Hermione said.

"I know, I really don't know what I was thinking." Ron said shaking his head, "Huh, McGonagall's really gonna have my head for this one."

"This is just so dumb Ron, so idiotic. I'm…shocked." But Hermione, Harry observed, wasn't mad anymore. In fact she was smiling.

-

I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to update, and I know this chapter was short. I've got some serious writer's block, not to mention a serious hangover. I'm so happy I don't have school tomorrow. It'll give me time alone to write. To tell you the truth I think the reason I'm taking so long to write this story is because it's been really hard to write. I'm extremely hard on myself when it comes to my writing and honestly I'm not happy with how this one's going. I've just been making it up as I go. If you have any suggestions on what should happen next let me know. I'm always here.

-

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night Dylan Thomas

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rage at close of day
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Don not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.