PR: Whittling away time
Characters: Ron Weasley
Location: George and Ron's Flat, above WWW shop
Date: February 25, 2000
Status/Warning: Private/None
Summary: Ron works on a project, getting ready to go out flying
Completion: Complete
Ron sat at the desk, looking at the pieces he'd taken apart; the Muggle clock made no more noise but lay there,gutted. He'd done this twice already, and was getting progressively better at it. He'd take it all apart, and put it together, carefully following the directions of the manuel he'd bought for it; he'd managed to effectively start it ticking twice before. It had a basic spring system, and he was staring at the parts, contemplating what types of spells to lay on them to effectively combining magic with it. His ultimate goal was to create something similar to the clock at the Burrow that showed the family members' names and locations or situations. He wanted to combine that idea, making the clock into a sort of sneak-a-scope in effect that targeted one's fighting unit, telling you if they were in danger or not. His mum's was a rarity, one of kind, and he decided that he'd finally break down and ask her where she'd gotten it; he had a cooking lesson with her this Sunday and it would be a good time to confess that he was failing miserably with his idea.
He thought about Sunday; it was to be a baking lesson, and he was expected there early in the morning. He loved it when they baked; he came home and always tried it at his and George's flat, on his own, filling the place with the fragrant aroma of bread or pie or cookies. Sunday was also his birthday; he wasn't going to mention it to anyone, trying to bring more attention to himself. He suspected that his mum knew; he had a feeling he'd be helping to bake his own cake but he liked the idea.
He looked down at the clock pieces, stumped, and decided to just put it back together. It was no good to him, laying about in bits. He had time on his hands, hence the puttering. He'd go out and fly later that night and work on more aeronautic maneuvers. He'd considered flying by Harry and Hermione's place, if it didn't seem too forward or presumptuous of him to just pop in on them.
The person he really wanted to visit was Megan, but he didn't know what to do there. She seemed to still need a little time; time to figure out if she was ready to be with only him. He didn't want to press her or rush her;when she seemed conflicted; he felt like it was the more mature thing to give her space, so she could find her way back to him, if that was what she wanted. Ron sighed, wondering if this was what it meant to grow up: understanding that people around you needed time to make decisions. He'd been through this with Hermione; he'd failed miserably as far as that was concerned because instead of acting the grown up and giving her any time she'd needed, he'd thrown in the towel. He didn't want to do that to Megan; he was realizing that he could jeopardize the good thing they had if he forced himself upon him, in the sense of demanding more and more of her time. It all came back to what experiences they shared and just how much of herself she was willing to share, with him.
His hands were busy as he thought more, and after a fairly brief amount of time, he had the clock back together, it's steady ticking filling the room. He looked down at the assembled item; he had been surprising himself of late. Time was, if he had nothing to do, he'd lounge about lazily, playing exploding snaps or pouring over the latest Quiddich journals. Now, it seemed like when he had a free moment, he had things in his hands, puttering and experimenting or sketching out some random idea. He grinned to himself at his handiwork, reminded of his dad; most of his puttering had to do with Muggle things. He thought about Anthony's ingenious idea and made a mental note to go to a local bookstore, in downtown London, and look up the latest in Muggle spyware and tools. He would try to purchase some, and muck about with them, and much like the clock, see if he could come up with some way to combine Muggle technology and magic.
Finished, he slipped into his flying gear and grabbed his broom. He'd been pondering the expense of purchasing a new one. He was doing okay financially; George was very generous with his younger sibling. A new broom might give him a better edge to his flying, if he could justify the expense. He wondered about Megan, if she was going to get a newer model herself, and it made him sigh. He realized it was one of the reasons he flew; he missed her and flying reminded him of her, even as it made him lose himself in the sheer act of zipping and flying thru the sky. He left the flat, and mounted the stairs to the roof patio. In a moment, all worries of time and money were gone as he took off into the night.
Location: George and Ron's Flat, above WWW shop
Date: February 25, 2000
Status/Warning: Private/None
Summary: Ron works on a project, getting ready to go out flying
Completion: Complete
Ron sat at the desk, looking at the pieces he'd taken apart; the Muggle clock made no more noise but lay there,gutted. He'd done this twice already, and was getting progressively better at it. He'd take it all apart, and put it together, carefully following the directions of the manuel he'd bought for it; he'd managed to effectively start it ticking twice before. It had a basic spring system, and he was staring at the parts, contemplating what types of spells to lay on them to effectively combining magic with it. His ultimate goal was to create something similar to the clock at the Burrow that showed the family members' names and locations or situations. He wanted to combine that idea, making the clock into a sort of sneak-a-scope in effect that targeted one's fighting unit, telling you if they were in danger or not. His mum's was a rarity, one of kind, and he decided that he'd finally break down and ask her where she'd gotten it; he had a cooking lesson with her this Sunday and it would be a good time to confess that he was failing miserably with his idea.
He thought about Sunday; it was to be a baking lesson, and he was expected there early in the morning. He loved it when they baked; he came home and always tried it at his and George's flat, on his own, filling the place with the fragrant aroma of bread or pie or cookies. Sunday was also his birthday; he wasn't going to mention it to anyone, trying to bring more attention to himself. He suspected that his mum knew; he had a feeling he'd be helping to bake his own cake but he liked the idea.
He looked down at the clock pieces, stumped, and decided to just put it back together. It was no good to him, laying about in bits. He had time on his hands, hence the puttering. He'd go out and fly later that night and work on more aeronautic maneuvers. He'd considered flying by Harry and Hermione's place, if it didn't seem too forward or presumptuous of him to just pop in on them.
The person he really wanted to visit was Megan, but he didn't know what to do there. She seemed to still need a little time; time to figure out if she was ready to be with only him. He didn't want to press her or rush her;when she seemed conflicted; he felt like it was the more mature thing to give her space, so she could find her way back to him, if that was what she wanted. Ron sighed, wondering if this was what it meant to grow up: understanding that people around you needed time to make decisions. He'd been through this with Hermione; he'd failed miserably as far as that was concerned because instead of acting the grown up and giving her any time she'd needed, he'd thrown in the towel. He didn't want to do that to Megan; he was realizing that he could jeopardize the good thing they had if he forced himself upon him, in the sense of demanding more and more of her time. It all came back to what experiences they shared and just how much of herself she was willing to share, with him.
His hands were busy as he thought more, and after a fairly brief amount of time, he had the clock back together, it's steady ticking filling the room. He looked down at the assembled item; he had been surprising himself of late. Time was, if he had nothing to do, he'd lounge about lazily, playing exploding snaps or pouring over the latest Quiddich journals. Now, it seemed like when he had a free moment, he had things in his hands, puttering and experimenting or sketching out some random idea. He grinned to himself at his handiwork, reminded of his dad; most of his puttering had to do with Muggle things. He thought about Anthony's ingenious idea and made a mental note to go to a local bookstore, in downtown London, and look up the latest in Muggle spyware and tools. He would try to purchase some, and muck about with them, and much like the clock, see if he could come up with some way to combine Muggle technology and magic.
Finished, he slipped into his flying gear and grabbed his broom. He'd been pondering the expense of purchasing a new one. He was doing okay financially; George was very generous with his younger sibling. A new broom might give him a better edge to his flying, if he could justify the expense. He wondered about Megan, if she was going to get a newer model herself, and it made him sigh. He realized it was one of the reasons he flew; he missed her and flying reminded him of her, even as it made him lose himself in the sheer act of zipping and flying thru the sky. He left the flat, and mounted the stairs to the roof patio. In a moment, all worries of time and money were gone as he took off into the night.