The Boy Who'll Live?

Ron Weasley

It was the morning of the first day and Ron was, once again, sat opposite Harry and the beautiful Hermione. Whilst she chewed on her toast, waiting for her standard edition of the Daily Prophet, she turned to Harry and smiled at him, almost in a reassuring way, Ron thought.

"Oh, I think I need my agony Aunt!" Harry blurted out, placing a hand to his forehead.

She turned back to her toast but squeezed his hand with her free one.

Ron felt anger bubble up within him. If you could have seen them, you would have understood. She was an amazing beauty. A princess that glistened without the help of any jewels. Then… there was Harry. The 'Famous Potter' whom everyone loved and adored. But just look at his face! It was awful! He had beer-glass-bottoms on his eyes and a hideous, deformed scar on his head. Oh, yes! The Potter was famous but fame doesn't always pay kindly. With him being so famous, it would be hard fro him to make him disappear easily. If Harry Potter suddenly went missing, then there would be uproar. Ron was sure of it. Maybe, if he could pass it off as the work of Voldemort…

"Ron! Are you listening?" Hermione shouted over his evil plotting.

"Sorry." He replied shyly.

Hermione shook her head, clutching the Daily Prophet under one of her arms and her books under the other. "I am going now, if you have anything to say to me, say it now before I leave!"

'Funny you should say that.' Ron thought. "Hermione, can you meet me somewhere tonight?" He asked, colour and heat flushing into his pale, freckled face. "I-I wanted to talk." His feet had suddenly become exceedingly interesting as the shuffled along the floor underneath the table.

"Of course. The common room?" She asked, beaming at him.

Ron shuffled in his seat with excitement. Finally, he would get to tell her how much he cared for her. "Yes please. Fireplace?"

Hermione nodded. "Ok. Eight-ish?"

Ron beamed manically. "Yeah."

She turned and walked briskly from the room, leaving Ron in his own little world of dreams.

Ron was sat upon his bed in the dormitories of Gryffindor, dreaming to himself about how much he adored the woman of his dreams, Hermione Granger. She had never seemed to notice him before but now, she had promised to meet him in front of the fire in the common room tonight. Maybe he could put 'the moves' on her. Show her how much he really cared. He smiled to himself. 'Oh, how I would love that!' He thought, knowing that by now he would look like he was high on something. High on love.

He was sat in front of the fireplace hours later, still waiting for Hermione.

"I don't think she's coming, Ron." Seamus said, rubbing his eyes sleepily from the entrance to the stairs that lead to the boys dormitory.

Ron knew he was right, after all, how many are two hours late for a 'date' without any notice of any sort?

He sighed, feeling angry and upset at the same time. He remembered that both Harry and Hermione had left the common room at around the same time earlier that night.

Ron gritted his teeth. 'They are having a secret relationship!' He mentally spat. His brow was furrowed and hi fists were balled tight. He didn't care how he was going to do it but he was going to make Harry Potter pay.

'I hate him!' Ron turned briskly, muttering: "The boy who lived, huh?" under his breath and stomping upstairs to bed.