WHO: Ron Weasley and YOU? WHAT: Confused Ron is confused! WHEN: Early evening. WHERE: In Lawrence, just outside a random coffee shop. RATING: TBD.
Everything had been a frazzled, nonsensical, chaotic whirlwind of unexpected madness, starting with the very moment in which Ron had turned from the essence of dittany he'd been applying to the burn marks he'd gotten from Lestrange's cursed vault to ask Hermione for a change of robes, as the clothing he'd worn into Gringotts was now, thanks to the dive he'd taken into the lake, thoroughly soaked. The funny (and by funny, it really wasn't very funny at all, actually) thing about all that was, of course, is that when Ron turned round to ask Hermione that exact question, he found himself directing the inquiry to a very loud, angry car that had been jerking it's way out of the road as to avoid running him down. No longer was Ron standing in the middle of fuck-arse nowhere, having just hopped off the back of a dragon that they'd, er, borrowed from Gringotts. No, he was in the middle of a bloody street, where cars were zipping around, drivers terrorizing their horns as they violently swerved around the stunned ginger that stood rooted to the ground, the shock of his sudden shift in environment keeping him from being sensible enough to bolt to safety right away. It was only after a particularly large truck slammed on it's brakes that Ron thought to shove off, and that was only because the driver - a rather large, beefy looking man who looked like he wouldn't have had the slightest bit of trouble wrapping his hands around Ron's neck - had skidded the truck to an abrupt halt and kicked his door open in fury. Uncomfortable at the sight (all right, all right - so maybe he was a bit terrified by it too), Ron bolted onto the sidewalk, quickly made his way to the end of the street, and circled a few blocks before he found an out of the way spot across from what appeared to be a Muggle coffee shop. Once there, Ron stopped a stranger in passing to ask his location, only to find that he was, in fact, in America.
Lawrence, Kansas - so far off from where he'd been before that Ron was pretty sure that he wasn't here because he'd up and accidentally apparated himself elsewhere. So what had happened, then? How'd he get here? And, just as - if not even more - importantly, what had happened to Harry and Hermione? Anxiously, Ron threaded his fingers through his soaked hair and turned in a circle, hoping to spot the two making their way toward him from some direction or another, looking just as dumbfounded as he felt himself. He didn't see a familiar face. Not Harry, not Hermione - no one.
It was only after Ron was sure that they weren't around that he began to worry that they'd been attacked in some mental way by Death Eaters. He spent another five minutes warily scouring the area for any sign of a threat, then double checking for Harry and Hermione all over again, before Ron reluctantly concluded that neither were around.
Then another though struck him: how was he supposed to find Harry and Hermione if he'd been zapped away from a location he didn't even know the name of?
Ron rubbed at the singe marks on his skin and looked around uncertainly. They hadn't been too far off from London, right? Maybe if he went back and looked...but then, what if they were here somewhere? If he left now and they turned up, how was he supposed to find them later on? They had been on the run back home. No place had been safe for them, they couldn't have properly set up a meet-up location in the event that something like this ever happened, could they? It was stick together, right to the end, and now...
Robes dripping wet from head to toe, covered in burns, and face slapped with the expression of undeniable confusion, Ron must have looked a sight to every Muggle wandering the street right then and there. But he couldn't leave right away, could he? Not without being entirely sure that Harry and Hermione weren't around. Mouth twisting downward in frustration, Ron started to walk again, this time hoping for more success in finding them than his last attempt. He'd walk a few blocks, ask if anyone had seen them. If he was lucky, they'd turn up, right?
Or this all really is happening because of Death Eaters, in which case they're probably -, Ron started pessimistically, abruptly cutting the thought in half at the idea of either of them being captured. Or worse. No, they're fine. I'll find them, it'll be all right...