A Massage to Remember
Disclaimer: For entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement is
A/N: this is my first fanfic but since I so love reading all of yours I
just had to try my hand at it. This is more of a short story in short
chapters.just because I like naming chapters.(
Chapter 1: Oy! The pain
Ron Weasley shifted uncomfortably on his bed as another jab of pain shot
through his sore back and up through his aching shoulders muscles. He
squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth as he tried for what seem like
the millionth time that night to find a position that didn't make his
muscles feel like they were on fire. He tangled in his bed sheets shifting
his weight onto his left side. Big mistake.
"Oww! Oww! Ahhhhh!"
Ron threw out a few more random curse words as another bolt of pain shot
through his left shoulder. He jolted upright in bed, his long legs
dangling over the edge and big feet making contact with the cold stone
floor. He stayed still for a moment attempting to ease the pain, resting
his forehead in his hand. After a few minutes he looked up. He snorted
inwardly as he regarded his sleeping roommates. Any one of them could have
easily slept through one of Neville's mammoth potion explosions.even
Neville himself, so he was reasonably certain his agony-induced curses had
He sighed enviously. Truth be known, he was as hard a sleeper as anyone. It
was a useful trait when your childhood bedroom was next door to crazy twin
brothers who were constantly blowing things up, a mother whose voice could
at times be quite shrill and a ghoul in the attic who never tired of
rattling around. Yes, normally he would have been out like a light. But
Ron cautiously pulled his nightshirt over his head and let it fall to the
ground. He reached a lanky arm over his bare back, attempting to rub the
spot that seemed to be giving him the most trouble. Unfortunately, the area
was just out of his reach, and the action only caused him to wince. He
heard Madame's Pomfrey's voice in his head.
"Honestly, I don't understand why you and Mr. Malfoy cannot just leave each
other alone. You're both 6th year prefects and yet you act like children.
You ought to be setting an example for the younger students. Well perhaps
this will finally teach you both a lesson. I've done all I can for you. I'm
afraid you're just going to have to grin and bear it. At any rate, you
should feel better in the morning."
Ron snorted. He was certainly not grinning now and morning seemed like
years away. Madame Pomfrey was right of course. He had let his temper get
the best of him and now he was paying for it. But god, how he despised
Malfoy. That evil git. He deserved whatever he got. He thought back on the
day's events with a mixture of emotions.
It had started so well. Gryfindor had won the quidditch cup! They had beat
Slytherin. No, more correctly, they had kicked Slytherin's slimy arses all
over the place. It had been an excellent match and all of Gryfindor had run
out to greet their players. This of course included Hermione running
towards Harry and himself, greeting them both with large hugs and Ron had
even gotten a kiss on his cheek, something that had not gone unnoticed by
him.or by bloody Malfoy.
"Awww. Isn't that nice. Weasel has his very own mudblood to play with.
Don't feel too special, I hear those mudbloods are right dirty little
tramps, give it up for anyone who wants it.ESPECIALLY Granger."
It was a stupid, cruel and untrue thing to say. In other words, totally
Malfoy. Ron knew that with all the commotion probably only a handful of
people heard it anyway, and nobody paid much attention to what Malfoy said
besides his Slytherin flunkies. But he also knew that Hermione heard it
and he had most certainly heard it.
It had taken less then a second for his temper to flare, and not much
longer to pull out his wand and point it directly at Malfoy. He could hear
Hermione's voice pleading with him to just ignore the prat even as he spoke
the words that produced the bolt of magic that flew from his wand. He had
watched it hit Malfoy directly in the chest. Unfortunately, that was all he
had seen as a bolt of magic flew out of Malfoy's wand even as he was
falling to the ground. Ron tried to use a defensive move but there wasn't
enough time and Malfoy's spell had hit square in the back.
The memory alone seemed to make the pain flare up again and he
shifted uncomfortably. So this is where his childish actions had landed
him. Instead of celebrating with his fellow Gryfindors he had spent the
time in the hospital wing. Malfoy had hit him with a particularly powerful
paralysis spell that had seemed to twist all the muscles in his upper body
into knots. Madame Pomfrey had managed to alleviate the paralysis, but
there was nothing that could be done about the enduring pain, except to
simply endure it.
He took a small amount of comfort in the fact that he had hit Malfoy
with a particularly powerful slug spell. Yes, it was the same spell that
had backfired on him during 2nd year, but lets just say he had enhanced it
since then. He took a sort of sick pleasure in knowing that Malfoy was
probably at this very moment still expelling slugs. Really big, extra-
slimy, long-lasting slugs.expelling from.well.both ends. Oh yes, Hermione
was not the only one who could improve a spell.
A loud Neville-sounding snore brought him out of his thoughts. There
really wasn't any point in trying to sleep tonight. He stood up slowly,
relieved to find his lower body experiencing only normal after-intense-
quidditch stiffness. He carefully pulled his orange night robe over his
shoulders. He decided to head down to the common room to get his mind on
something besides the pain he was feeling and the sleep he was not getting.
Perhaps he could scrounge up a piece of celebratory cake he had missed out