Chapter Two
It was a rough night. Ron had not been able to get past the dozing stage.
A few times he d thought he was dreaming, but it turned out to be his overactive imagination plaguing him again.
Thoughts of school, thoughts of his friends, family (especially his father), teachers, and everything else one thinks about at four in the morning when unable to sleep. He laid there another half an hour, then finally rolled out of bed, taking the sheets and blankets with him, and trudged over to the washroom. He stripped himself of his clothing and threw them into the pile of blankets that had not given up on and fallen off during the journey to the bathroom.
He approached the bath and turned the handles this way and that until the water was the right temperature for him (he liked it more towards the tepid side) and then flicked the switch for the water to go upward into the shower nozzle. His father, being obsessed with muggles, had thought it would be fun and new to undo several of the charms placed upon the household appliances, baths included.
He then stepped into the bath and, out of habit, waited for the curtain to pull itself back and hide his shame. But of course, it did not. After a moment, he grumbled to himself and yanked it forward. Ron sighed and turned his face up into the stream of water. It felt good, soothed his aching body, and squelched the nausea that we all feel after a very poor night s sleep. He stayed in the shower longer than he usually did, mainly to just feel the water against his pallid skin. He stepped out of the shower, making sure to pull back the curtain on his own. His feet squished against the cold floor, and he knew he would have to clean up the water puddles or his mother would have a fit.
Ron, being half dead from the night before, had forgotten to gather up some clothing to bring with him to the bathroom. Considering how early it was, he would not imagine Harry or any one else would be up, so he had nothing to fear about someone seeing him in only a towel, and seeing as he did not have his wand handy he would be unable to summon for him. So he tied the thick towel around his waist and kicked the blankets out of the way.
He left the bathroom, and was thankful he did not take a warm shower, for the temperature outside the bathroom was enough to instantly provoke goose bumps over his skin. They quickly engulfed all exposed flesh. Ron crossed the distance to his dresser and gathered up some clothing, then dressed quickly, stumbling over his pants a few times and actually falling flat on his face once. He rubbed his red forehead as he turned to go back into the bathroom, but a noise stopped him and immediately claimed his full attention. He whipped his head right, to stare out the window and to try to locate the noise. Something was drawing him outside, and before he knew it, he had somehow carried himself out the front door. It was still rather dark out; the stars had not even vanished to shed their beauty elsewhere.
The sky was velvet black that had a faint hue of blue about it. Everything outside was dead silent, and even the crickets and other creatures of the night had fallen silent. The only sound to be heard was his rapid, unsteady breathing. Had he been running? Why could he not remember what he had done the moment before?
Ah, yes the after effects of insomnia.
He looked back and saw the tiny silhouette of his home against the night sky. How far had he run? By the burning in his lungs, followed by violent coughing, apparently much further than he should have, especially in this state. After the loud coughing subsided, a hush fell over the area once again. There was that noise again, to his left his time. The cowardice in him told him to hightail it back to the Burrow, but the Weasley in him told him to push onward and investigate. And so he did. He followed the direction of the noise, the sky seeming to grow darker the further he wandered away from the safety of the Burrow, the security net that was his family.
The noise also grew increasingly louder. A noise he could not quite place under any specific category. Perhaps best compared to the faint beat of a beetle s wing, but even that did not fully describe this most peculiar sound. At first, he thought there to be a rhythm, but as he approached closer, he discovered he was wrong.
What is it? It s driving me up a bloody wall not knowing Ron thought to himself. He soon began to grow rather impatient, another common trait in the Weasley family. He was now clambering up a hill, his calves burning and screaming at him to stop and rest. The hike seemed endless and when he finally neared where the sound grew the loudest, it stopped.
Pure silence followed.
Then he could faintly hear something right below him. Ron, still gasping for air from exerting his body, looked down at his feet, and what he saw made his heart all but stop. The air suddenly grew colder around him, and a deafening buzz of various, crudely strewn together noises filled his ears and echoed throughout his head. He covered his ears with his hands, eyes still fixed to the sight below him. The noise he heard was not the gentle beating of a beetle s wing; it was not what he thought it to be at all. It was a person, gasping for air through a puddle of blood as they lay upon their back, dying. He could not see their face, for it was covered in the looming shadows of the night. There were suddenly others around him, their faces undistinguishable in the dark, and their voices mingling with the buzz Ron was so desperately try to shield himself.
One of them clasped a hand on his shoulder and shook him violently. Ron lowered his hands from his head and reached for his wand, but of course, it was not there. Nothing was ever there when it was needed. He looked up to peer into the face of his demise as a flash of green light filled his own, wide eyes.
And then nothing
Ron Ron! Ron, wake up! You re having a fit! Ron!
Ron gasped and opened his eyes. He was drenched in sweat, his clothing clinging to him and his red hair matted against his forehead. He muttered something panicked and looked around the room. He was in his own room, his own bed He shook violently, even though he was starting to relax.
It was a dream a dream so real it was cruel. He could not ignore the squirming in his stomach now. Ron looked up to see Harry and Hermione standing over him.
Ron, are you alright? You look horrible Hermione said worriedly. Ron stared at them both a moment before closing his eyes again. He sighed as his tense body melted into the soft bed.
Bad dream don t worry about it, alright? Ron said in a detached tone.
What was it about, Ron? You were thrashing in your sleep and you looked well, like Hermione said, you look horrible and you re really pale. Harry said, being experienced in bad dreams, he worried about what Ron may have seen. Naturally, he worried it involved Voldomort.
Oi, I said don t worry about it. Ron half smiled and sat up, his body aching for him to lie back down and become engulfed in the comforting warmth of the sheets. He ignored his body s pleas and slowly got out of bed, what time is it?
It s almost eleven you slept through the entire night. Your mother brought you some dinner in case you woke up Hermione smiled faintly, in her good natured, gentle manner, then added with an underlying chuckle, I would imagine it s cold by now. Ron could tell they were both worried, Really guys, I m fine. Probably got some bad milk in the ice cream or somethin . You know what bad food does to your mind when you re trying to sleep.
Mrs. Weasley s voice came from downstairs, alerting everyone that lunch was ready.
Ron told Hermione and Harry to go on ahead and that he would be down in a minute. After they left, he looked as though all the wind had been knocked out of him. Something about that dream was not the common result of food poisoning. Something something about it lingered with him and made him feel uneasy He just couldn t quite place it
He quickly collected himself and made his way downstairs, hoping to whatever god was listening, that neither Harry nor Hermione had told his mother about his thrashing.
End chapter two.
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(A/N: I know it was short and probably NOT what you were hoping for, but I m just starting to get my muse back. This chapter was important, not just a random filler. Well I hope it was liked. Any reviews, comments, or questions will be greatly appreciated. And thanks to all of you who subscribed! Expect an update soon. Oh, and sorry if there s errors. I kinda finished around 2 am )
