Roonil Wazlib is burping slugs again (babittyrabitty) wrote in hallowed_times, @ 2013-03-22 21:39:00 |
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Entry tags: | hermione granger, ron weasley |
Who: Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger
When: Friday
Where: Hogwarts
Summary: Ron is an angry bird.
Rating: Medium
There was something distinctly disheartening about rejection. No other emotion in the human spectrum of feelings could possible make you feel like you were falling and like there was absolutely no end to your despair. You just kept falling and falling, until your heart was so far up your throat that you were practically coughing it up. And it didn't just affect your heart. Something always managed to make your head spin about as fast as a portkey propelling you into another location. Rejection made you feel worse about yourself than anything else, especially when you were just so used to it that you wondered why you didn't see this coming from a mile away.
Ron trudged across the grounds of Hogwarts. His face was serious. His lips were a thin, straight line across his face. And his cheeks were blotchy red, the way they always got when he was angry or upset or cold or sitting down doing absolutely nothing. He wanted to scream and remain quiet all at the same time, so he opted for remaining quiet. Suffering in silence had always been more his thing anyway, and no one had to know just how truly pissed off he really was.
There had been a party tonight, a party to celebrate the Quidditch camp and those who were chosen for teams. Ron was not one of them. Even though he had been invited to the party, he absolutely refused to go. There was no way he was going to stand around while Summerby and Smith, Harry and Ginny bragged on and on about their stupid offers from Quidditch teams. No way. He had made his way back to Hogwarts, now crossing the threshold that led to the main stairwell. He had known all along that this year at Hogwarts was going to be a massive disappointment. Not because there wasn't a bad guy to fight or because classes were going to be boring. But because he knew he was going to find out just how completely inept he really was.
With a loud sigh that sounded like a candle was being snuffed out, Ron made his way down to the kitchens and just pressed his forehead against the painting of the fruit. He was too tired to tickle the pear so that the House Elves could let him in for an afternoon snack. Hell, he didn't even feel like eating, which was exceedingly rare for him. But somehow he had managed to get down here for some reason. He only hoped that whatever the reason was wouldn't disappoint him further today.