Like Magic : Harry Potter x Reader / OC One-Shots ▼

2. Bad Beginnings [Ron]

[ for ;; dragonsareourfuture]

The past few weeks had been a total, complete, absolute mess.

Of course, what else could be said when you've been keeping secrets from your closest friends? Yes, Hermione had indeed reminded me that we hadn't really a choice, but with all due respect to her, sometimes she spends too much time concerned about the small details, critically and meticulously, that she forgets the big picture. Even if it may have kept Harry safe at the time, we all know him. Whether he means to or not he'll nearly end up dead again this year. At this point, all we're doing is prolonging the inevitable.

Nevertheless, I went along with it; if not exactly for my friend's persuasion, then for that of the rest of the Order's. I followed all their rules and instructions - with the exceptions of those few times that my brothers had listened in on their conversations, but I'd like to stress the word few, and also present the fact that they were just testing their products. You can't have a good brand if what you're selling is complete rubbish. Trust me, I know this.

But I'm getting rather beside myself. In the end Harry did find out about the whole ordeal, and needless to say he wasn't very...pleased. Yeah. Let's just go with that. Very displeased. And, of course, it didn't exactly help that we couldn't ride on the train together, either. What with the whole Prefect business - yes, that's right, 'Ron the Prefect' is now a statement that has been made - and the separate debriefing of my new responsibilities, I wasn't able to be in two places at once. See? That's a spell someone needs to make. Or at least make more well-known.

"Oh, hello there. What're you doing up at this time?"

At the sound of a familiar voice, I nearly jumped out of the red-and-gold patterned armchair, head twisting round to face the source. My heart somehow managed to calm itself as I saw her face for the first time this year.

She shifted in her place, moving her weight from one leg to the other rather impatiently, a surprised but relatively neutral expression on her face. "If you're going to ask me if I'm talking to you, don't. It's three in the morning and you're the only person in this room." Sighing, she tucked whatever she held in her hand up in the crook of her elbow and strode over to me. "You can't play that card."

It took me a moment to process who exactly it was; though, in retrospect, I'm not quite sure who else I expected it to be. The American accent should've given it away. Sure, we'd written often during the summer, but she'd gone home to visit family - had it really been that long since I had last seen her? "And I suppose it's too late to play the 'you-nearly-gave-me-a-heart-attack piece, too?"

Her head was a honey-colored blur as she nodded enthusiastically. "Yup."

"Well, it's good to know that someone's stayed the same," I muttered under my breath, inhaling slowly and readjusting my position to face her.

She brushed a few stray locks of her long, golden hair behind her back, taking out the object she'd been carrying - a sketchbook - and retrieving a pencil from its ringed spine. "Oh, but you've changed quite a bit, haven't you, Mister Prefect?" It was evident that she'd attempted to keep her eyes glued to her paper. After all, her cold nature usually took a little bit longer to melt through before one could reach her warmer side, but what could I say? Kira must not have been immune to my Weasley charm that day, because she couldn't help but cast a daring glance in my direction.

My voice came out deep and loud, just like that silly mock-Quidditch-reporter tone I'd always done as a kid while narrating my brother's home matches. "That's no way to talk to your superior."

For a few moments we both sat like that, she placing the first few marks of her pencil down on the paper, me with my chest puffed out as a nice accompaniment to the low voice, in complete silence.