opposites attract ~ ron weasley x oc

sickness, dread & alphabets

*smutty smut smut warning (not intense though, sorry if that's disappointing)*
                (also the big chunks of text in italics are memories/flashbacks)

Waking up was always the worst thing to happen in the morning.

Whether that was after going to bed late, after having sex and waking up sweaty, or just waking up in general.

But, what was by far the worst way to wake up was hungover. And when I tell you I felt hungover, I meant it.

It was around ten when I woke up, which was against my will really because I would never have woke up so early if I didn't have a snoring boy echoing throughout the room - or more importantly through my fucking skull. Along with the banging headache I had from the alcohol, I was also gifted the noise of Ron next to me as he took great pleasure in (once again) smothering me.

The room was weirdly bright that morning, which I quickly discovered was because someone had obviously ripped down one of the curtains during the night and was now being used as a blanket for Seamus and Dean as they lay atop of our sofa in the dorm - all of us seemingly having a safe travel up here.

As I lazily looked around the dorm I noticed Tracey laying with Cedric on her bed and Pansy reflecting this with Lee as she laid with one of her arse cheeks poking out from under the duvet. Millicent's bed, however, was neatly made with her book pillow Cho had gifted her placed right on top. And, normally I would've groaned at this, calling Millicent an absolute weirdo for having such a high tolerance to just about every substance. But, with my mouth drier than any food in the Great Hall and my head still throbbing, I decided to say nothing - not needing any karma that could come with such actions.

"You up?" I whispered into Ron's ear, trying my best to manoeuvre myself around his body whilst trying not to break my own in the process.

He groaned in response, causing me to roll my eyes - which only made my headache worse.

"Do you feel like shit too?" I asked, shimmying my way down the bed as I covered my legs under the duvet.

"Just tired...and hungry" he shrugged, burying his head in my pillow as his arm snaked further around my waist - careful not to grasp me too tight at risk of me projectile vomiting all over him and my bed.

"So you feel like, no hangover. At all?"

"Don't think so." he answered. Pushing himself off my pillow so I could see his face and he could see mine, even if that was the furthest from what I wanted this morning "My legs are cold though"

I looked down and laughed, looking at his bare legs as they hung off the bed - obviously not going to be covered as he still wore the Spice Girls dress from last night (even if it was covered in badly done whiskey shots from last night). It was a sight really, one that both made my hangover simultaneously worse and better.

I threw the cover over his lower body, still making sure that I had enough to cover myself as I had quickly realised drunk me didn't want to sleep in a tight one piece - so instead went for that of my underwear.

"You look like shit," he laughed, using the fact that I was too ill to fight back as an excuse to poke fun at me "in a sexy way though, of course"

"Stop bullying me, my stomach hurts and I'm angry that you're not sick too"

"Well excuse me for not getting absolutely hammered," he muffled into my pillow, his head finding it's way back there. Clearly enjoying the brightness of the room as much as I did.

"Oh I didn't get that drunk. Don't exaggerate" his hand that was previously circling my stomach soothingly stopped, him pushing himself back to look at me once again.