Ronald's Room

'RONALD'S ROOM'

I hate my room.

It's eleven o'clock, and I'm waiting for Harry to arrive. I've got nothing to do, so I decided to go to my room. But I hate my room. There's nothing to do here. So I sit on my bed. Looking around, I realise just how small my room actually is.

There's one window, so not a lot of light. Pigwidgeon is hooting like a crow (go figure), which makes you aware of just how close the other side of the room is. Four beds are squeezed in, may Merlin know how, so you can't walk around anymore. The water pipes that come from the attic stink, and you can smell it in my entire room. Makes it appear even smaller. Then there's the posters. The orange poster. The moving, orange posters. The moving, orange posters that make the walls appear to close in on me. Oh, and not to mention, there's Hermione now standing in front of my door, who, I think, is lecturing me about how untidy my room is. I'm not sure, though. I'm too busy thinking of how good it would be to kiss Harry again and trying to find a way out of this ruddy enclosure.

I hate my room.

Honestly, it's way too small. It's the smallest one in the house. If it wasn't for that howling thing in the attic, I'd be sitting there right now. It's twice as big as my room, it probably smells a lot better, and four beds would fit, and Merlin would not be the only one who knows how. So there...

I hate my room.

"Ron, Hermione, Harry is here!" mom calls from downstairs. Hermione stops talking about how there are spells that might help me tidy my room and suggests that we go downstairs. Right on, Weasley! She didn't even notice I heard as much as ten words of what she was saying.

*

I hate my room.

We're now supposed to be sleeping, as it's past midnight. Yes, we somehow managed to get the four of us in here. The beds had to go, though. We're now sleeping on matrasses on the floor. My foot is sleeping, I can hardly feel it anymore. Something heavy is on it, I think it might be George. He's snoring as well. And he's on the other side of the room, too. Fred is, I think, somewhere near George's feet (God bless him). No wonder Fred has been rolling over for the past two hours. I think the only one who's peacefully asleep is Harry.

I turn my head and I vaguely see Harry lying on his side. Squiting my eyes to see better in the dark, I notice that he's smiling. Yes, he may be tempered when he's awake, and he may be down a bit when he's thinking too much, but he's just too cute when he's sleeping, I just want to move over there and let him snuggle close, 'cause that's what he does when he's asleep, you know.

I can't, though. My family doesn't know about 'us', and with Fred and George here, although sleeping, I'd rather not test their ignorance.

I hate my room.

Thank Merlin they won't be here tomorrow, Fred and George. Going to Ireland to see if they can find this weird guy they're doing bussines with.

I turn around again, now lying on my back, staring up at the ceiling that seems to be getting closer and closer. Pigwidgeon, though not hooting, is sleeping noisely. It's fidgeting with its feathers and making an annoying noise with its beak that reminds me of Aragog. I shudder. There's also Fred's turning, rolling and ruffling with the blankets. And George seems under the impression that snoring isn't disturbing at all, for he perfectly well knows the Anti-Snoring Spell, he just doesn't use it. The ghost in the attic seems completely oblivious to any noise here, as it's howling and throwing broken pipes and doing stuff like Peeves would've done in Filch's office. The pipes still smell, and also make the sound of dripping water. Makes me need to 'go'. The only problem is, I can't get to the door of my room, as I can't walk in here.

I hate my room.

*

Fred and George are now in Ireland. The rest of the family are having a nice family dinner. They're probably not missing me. They've got Charlie and Bill to fuss about now. I don't even know what I'm doing up here. 'Cause I hate my room. I should be eating very good food right now, not sitting in a stupid, small, dark, orange room.

Yet, that is what I'm doing. Pathetic, isn't it? There is only one thing I can think of that I would like to do in this room. The problem is, I would need a certain person for that, and that certain person is currently downstairs, having a nice family dinner.

So again, I'm left to listening to ghost. Even he seems to be enjoying himself, messing around with probably everything it can get its hands on... so to speak. Peeves would have been proud. Of course, Peeves would not restrict himself to the attic, he'd be all over the house. But still, the attic is a good beginning, right?

Why am I even thinking about that?! Haven't I got something better to do? It's this room, isn't it? It's driving me mad! It's too small, it's too orange, and it's too small. And the roof is too low.

I hate my room.

But then the door opens and Harry walks in. He grins. Merlin, forbid that grin. ... On second thought, don't.

"Brought you desert." I look at his left hand and notice he has taken apple-flavoured ice cream. I don't like that flavour. I frown "You'll love it," he grins.

"You know I don't like apple-flavoured ice cream"

Harry takes one step in my direction, so he is now standing directly in front of me. "I wasn't talking about the ice cream."

. . .

You know, my room really isn't that bad...