The Hollow Beneath Hogwarts

102. I Gotta Get Through This

Ron didn't let go of Sloane's hand.

Not for a second.

The moment she had agreed to come with him, something inside him had solidified. The uncertainty was still there. The fear was still there. Merlin, the embarrassment alone was enough to make him want to crawl into a hole and stay there forever.

But for the first time in months, maybe years, he actually wanted to do something about the mess he had made.

Before he could change his mind. Before he could talk himself out of it. Before those familiar intrusive thoughts started whispering in his ear that it wasn't worth the effort.

So he moved. Fast. He practically dragged Sloane out through the portrait hole.

The guard on duty, Phil, nearly dropped the newspaper he had been reading when Ron burst out into the corridor.

"Mr Weasley?"

Ron didn't answer.

He was already halfway down the hall.

Sloane stumbled slightly as she hurried to keep up with him. "Ron!"

"I'm going before I lose my nerve."

"Ron!"

"If I stop walking, I'm not doing it."

"Ronald Weasley!"

That finally got his attention.

He looked back over his shoulder.

Sloane was practically jogging beside him. Her hair was bouncing with every step and she was trying very hard not to laugh at the ridiculous speed he was travelling.

"You're walking like you're being chased."

"I might be."

"By what?"

"My own brain."

"Fair."

Ron nodded. "Exactly."

Behind them, Phil let out a wheezing noise as he attempted to catch up.

The poor man was half jogging and half waddling while simultaneously trying to stop his trousers from falling down.

The result was not graceful.

At all.

Every few seconds he had to grab at his waistband and hitch them back up before continuing after the pair.

"Slow...down..." he puffed.

Neither teenager listened.

Ron was on a mission.

The corridor blurred past. Staircases moved. Portraits complained as they rushed by.

One elderly wizard in a frame shouted something about young people having no respect for speed limits.

Ron ignored him.

Sloane apologised as they passed.

Eventually they reached the Year Eight common room.

Ron barely paused. He practically shouted the password at the portrait.

The painting startled so badly it nearly dropped the goblet it had been holding.

"Good grief!" the portrait yelped.

The entrance swung open. Ron charged through.

Sloane followed.

The common room was mostly empty at this hour, though a few students glanced up in confusion as Ron stormed across the room with Sloane and a very exhausted security guard trailing behind.