Feedback: Yes, please
Team: Wigtown Wanderers
Position: Chaser 1
Captain: No
Extension Used: Yes
Reserve: Yes
Prompts: Blue: Write about sleep
Optional Prompts: 1, word- disbelief; 15, action- nodding
Word Count: 1176
Age 10. Ron's blue eyes snapped open as he was startled awake from his sleep. What a funny dream that had been. He couldn't wait to tell Ginny. He sprung from his bed but caught a glimpse of the clock. Darn, it was still too early, far too early. He'd have to go back to bed for a few hours. Or maybe, he thought as he climbed back into bed, he could stay awake until Ginny woke up. That way, he wouldn't forget the wonderful, funny dream.
He thought this was the perfect idea. Ron nodded to himself, smiling softly. But the longer he stayed awake, the heavier his eyes felt, and without realizing it, he was snoring softly a half hour later.
He hadn't even realized he'd fallen asleep until he awoke to his only sister in his face. "Ron! Mum said breakfast is ready! Get up, sleepy head!"
"Gin!" Ron exclaimed excitedly as he regained his senses. "I have to tell you about my dream. I had a famous best friend. And he was the greatest seeker at Hogwarts!"
"Did you play Quidditch with him?" She questioned, her disbelief in the contents of his dream obvious, as they ran down the stairs together to the kitchen.
He considered this, grumpily coming to a realization. "No. But you did. And he kissed you!" Okay, the kiss was an exaggeration. But it sounded good.
"Eww!" Ginny exclaimed, his words only increasing the disbelief she felt.
–
Age 11. Ron sat down at the table next to Harry at breakfast.
"What's up with you? Hermione asked, shooting him an accusing glance. "You're never late to a meal."
"I overslept. Something normal people do. Bet you wouldn't know about that," he shot back, filling his plate with sausages and pastries as he glared at her.
Hermione shrugged. "Well, some of us don't like being late to class and want to have a future," she argued back, grabbing her bag from the bench beside her and leaving.
"What is with her?" Ron grumbled, mouth full of food. "Nobody has ever failed at life because they overslept. But anyway, Harry, you have to hear about my dream. It was ridiculous."
"Tell me about it. I could use a laugh," Harry nodded as he continued eating his porridge.
"You know how skittish professor Quirrell is? In my dream though, he turned into you-know-who."
Harry snickered, immediately filled with disbelief at the idea. "Like that'll happen. He can't even look me in the eye. And unlike other people here, he doesn't hate my guts."
–
Age 13. Ron was sleeping soundly in his four poster bed until he wasn't. He rolled over, figuring he'd grab a sip of water from his night stand before going back to sleep. But he noticed Harry was still awake, looking through a book by the soft blue light of his wand.
"What's up mate?" Ron asked, sitting up his covers pooling around him.
Harry was startled, but settled quickly and looked over at Ron.
"Professor Lupin knew both of my parents. He was their friend. He's the first person I've met who truly knew them." Ron could see now, as the blueish light reflected off the pages of the book, what Harry was looking at: the photo album of his family.
Ron wasn't good with emotions and he certainly didn't understand the pain of not having a family. But he couldn't just sit there and say nothing. "You mean, Snape doesn't count? He knew them."
Harry rolled his eyes, but smirked. "He only knew my dad and he hated him. Not the kind of person who can share fond memories with me."
"Well, you should try to get some sleep, mate," Ron concluded, not really knowing what else he could say to his friend. God, he sounded like such a dad just now.
Harry sighed, nodding softly. "Yeah, I know."
He watched Harry close his album and settle under the blankets, extinguishing the soft blue light in his wand. "Good night, Ron."
"Good night, Harry."
Ron settled back into his own bed, pulling the blankets up to his chin. He thought about the dream that had woken him up. It had been quite funny, but probably best to keep it to himself for now. With Trelawney looking at Harry like he was the walking dead because of the grim in his cup and now with Harry longing for his family, sharing that dream Harry had been adopted by a black lab probably wouldn't sound as hilarious as the dream had been when he first woke up.
Smiling to himself over the idea of a cerberus-sized black lab leading Harry around with a leash, Ron fell back into a peaceful slumber.
–
Age 16. Sleep had always been easy for Ron, but he was finding the task to be more and more difficult. He'd always had vividly realistic dreams, at least for as long as he could remember. But now, they were plaguing him almost every night.
Hermione had recommended that he start recording them in as much detail as possible in a journal. She'd said that this was something muggles would do to look for patterns, suggesting he might be mentally troubled. But this was a stupid idea. He hardly wanted to write for his classes, yet alone do it just because. And doing it to look for patterns seemed almost as ridiculous as Divination. What was he trying to do, predict the future?
But he couldn't ignore that these dreams were becoming increasingly frightening. One night, he'd dreamt that he and his friends had been captured by Death Eaters. There had been a dream where he'd watched Dumbledore fall from a high tower, and he'd fallen for so long, it was clearly impossible. He'd dreamt of Hermione writhing on the floor, screaming, as if the victim of some invisible attacker, or maybe under the cruciatus curse.
But the worst of all these dreams was a recurring one. One he was living through once again, right now. He was standing with Hermione, Neville, Ginny, and Luna in a clearing, all of them watching the forest intently. The pale blue lighting indicated that it must be early morning. And he already knew what was going to happen.
The dream played out just as he expected it to, with Hagrid coming out of the forest carrying a limp human form. And as Hagrid moved closer to the gathered group, the body he was carrying came into clearer view. It was Harry, dead.
Wake up, wake up! Dream Ron shouted. This isn't real. None of it is real!
Ron awoke with a start, shaky and sweaty, but safe in his four poster bed. He glanced over to the bed next to his and found Harry sleeping soundly. He listened for a moment, searching for sounds of breathing coming from his friend. Harry shifted, also visible signs of life.
With a sigh of relief, Ron settled back down. But to hell with sleep. He'd find another way to occupy his time until morning.
