ron weasley is love

Ron plodded out of bed and stumbled down the hallway towards the loo. Between the howls of the ghouls in the attic and his own strange dreams about Professor Flitwick the pirate, he'd barely got a lick of sleep. He hoped that a shower would help and clear the cobwebs from his head or else he'd probably end up drooling into his morning cup of tea or falling alseep into his oatmeal.

The door to the watercloset was closed so Ron lifted his fist (it took a lot of effort to raise his hand) but before he could knock properly, the door flew open.

"Morning, Ron," a bright and cheery, fresh-faced Hermione smiled up at him.

"'Lo, Mione." Startled by all the sudden movements, Ron stepped back. "Er, are you done in there?"

"All yours," she said as she slid past him. "See you at breakfast."

Ron nodded in reply which was a useless gesture - Hermione had already turned the corner. He sighed and slumped his shoulders, "Great job, Don Juan." After closing the door, he quickly shed his pajamas (which were getting too small. Would he *ever* stop growing?) and turned on the shower. Before he stepped in, he glanced at himself in the old, crooked mirror. He sighed again, why'd he have to be cursed with all the bad looks in the family? Big ears, long nose, messy hair, gangly limbs, no chesthair, and monsterous hands that seemed to break whatever they touched.

The cherubs on the mirror's wooden frame shook their heads at his naked form, "Maybe you should try to blast away all those blemishs," one advised.

"They're not blemishes," Ron grumbled, "They're bloody freckles."

"Well, they certainly are unattractive, whatever they are."

Ron growled and shook his fist. "Watch it or I'll make you into kindling." He stepped into the shower after thoroughly examing the drain for tentacles and sighed for a third time that morning as the hot water washed over him.