(no subject)
Who: Hermione and Ron
Where: Ron's bedroom, Order HQ
When: 24th February 2002
Status: Complete
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Concentrate.
Clutching the soft folds of bedsheet and quilt that swaddled his body, Ron repeated this mantra over and over in his head. He'd already counted heartbeats, cracks in the plaster, the steady drip-drip-drip of an early spring thaw outside his window and nothing seemed to help.
Yesterday had been a complete blur of loud voices and panicked faces that poked and prodded until he'd finally fallen into a deep sleep that lasted through the night and most of the following day. But now he was awake and raring to go and couldn't do a thing about it; an invisible guard rail had been woven around the perimeter of the bed he occupied. Restricting his movements to those of an invalid when in fact it was so much more.
Wiggling his toes to make the joints crackle, Ron supposed it could be worse. Magical binds strapping him down like a deranged lunatic. Or a cage. Right now he felt like the cage would be a more appropriate place.
A smell so familiar he could pick it out from a thousand others made him pause. It swirled up the stairs and bled through the crack under his door, riding a nonexistent breeze to wrap around him like a mother's loving embrace.
He nearly choked from the intensity of it.
Instead, he closed his eyes, pretending to be asleep. Ignoring light footfalls and then the slow turning of the doorknob that heralded the arrival of the absolute last person he felt up to sharing the same cramped, cloying space with right now.
"If you've come here to yell at me, don't waste your breath," he mumbled, rolling over so his back now faced the visitor in a silent protest. Pushing his nose deeper into the curve of his elbow, he inhaled the warm scent of his own flesh in a futile attempt to block out Hermione's overpowering presence that was as bright and bold as the midday sun. "I'm not in the mood."
Where: Ron's bedroom, Order HQ
When: 24th February 2002
Status: Complete
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Concentrate.
Clutching the soft folds of bedsheet and quilt that swaddled his body, Ron repeated this mantra over and over in his head. He'd already counted heartbeats, cracks in the plaster, the steady drip-drip-drip of an early spring thaw outside his window and nothing seemed to help.
Yesterday had been a complete blur of loud voices and panicked faces that poked and prodded until he'd finally fallen into a deep sleep that lasted through the night and most of the following day. But now he was awake and raring to go and couldn't do a thing about it; an invisible guard rail had been woven around the perimeter of the bed he occupied. Restricting his movements to those of an invalid when in fact it was so much more.
Wiggling his toes to make the joints crackle, Ron supposed it could be worse. Magical binds strapping him down like a deranged lunatic. Or a cage. Right now he felt like the cage would be a more appropriate place.
A smell so familiar he could pick it out from a thousand others made him pause. It swirled up the stairs and bled through the crack under his door, riding a nonexistent breeze to wrap around him like a mother's loving embrace.
He nearly choked from the intensity of it.
Instead, he closed his eyes, pretending to be asleep. Ignoring light footfalls and then the slow turning of the doorknob that heralded the arrival of the absolute last person he felt up to sharing the same cramped, cloying space with right now.
"If you've come here to yell at me, don't waste your breath," he mumbled, rolling over so his back now faced the visitor in a silent protest. Pushing his nose deeper into the curve of his elbow, he inhaled the warm scent of his own flesh in a futile attempt to block out Hermione's overpowering presence that was as bright and bold as the midday sun. "I'm not in the mood."