(A/N)- No, this is not the initial one-shot I was planning on posting. That one is still in the works, but it will be out this month, I assure you. If it isn't, then you can throw rotten tomatoes at me for being an irresponsible writer. :) I hope you'll enjoy this short one-shot! --
(A/N)- No, this is not the initial one-shot I was planning on posting. That one is still in the works, but it will be out this month, I assure you. If it isn't, then you can throw rotten tomatoes at me for being an irresponsible writer. :) I hope you'll enjoy this short one-shot!
Ron felt like his feet were glued to the floor. He watched the warm water spurt from the nozzle; steady puffs of steam rising from the tiled floor. He took in a deep breath and rubbed his forearms self-consciously. He wasn't sure how much longer he could put this off.
He peeled away his towel that hung from his waist and placed it on the pole with the shower curtain. He brought his arms to his chest and tucked his clenched fists under his chin.
Stepping into the mist, he shuddered violently. The scars that curled around his arms to his shoulders, seared fiercely. He gasped and trembled. He felt the two scars on the back of his neck scream in agony.
As he scrubbed the surfaces of his body, he was extremely cautious to not irritate his scars further. The pain was numbing slightly. He sighed in relief and relaxed his shoulders a fraction, only to wince when the luke warm water pierced the newly exposed wounds.
When he claimed himself clean, he turned off the water immediately and pressed his body to the tile wall. He moaned at the release and stayed like that for a few minutes.
Finally, he peeked out from behind the shower curtain, saw the coast was clear, and reached out for his Gryffindor robe.
The fabric rubbed on his arms uncomfortably, but it was much easier to ignore.
Inside the boys' dormitory, Harry lay sprawled out on his bed.
"Are you up for Quidditch later, mate?" he asked his companion eagerly.
"Uh," Ron began hesitantly. Playing Quidditch would, without a doubt, make him sweaty, and that meant another unbearable shower. "I think I'll pass."
Harry lifted an eyebrow. "Why not?"
"I just showered," Ron said in clearly defensive tone. He shifted from foot to foot, edging toward his dresser.
Harry just shrugged and picked up a Quidditch magazine from beside his bed, not looking like he was going to be leaving anytime soon.
Ron sighed and pulled the curtains of his four-poster bed to the front posts. His best mate looked at him curiously. "What are you doing?" he asked, slightly interested.
"Privacy," he said, once again defensively and Harry laughed. It wasn't usual for students at Hogwarts to get much privacy, what with sharing a bedroom, bathrooms, and living rooms. He flipped the page and Ron pulled out his Gryffindor robes.
Crouching behind the thick covering of the bed curtains, Ron pulled on his boxers without removing his robe. He peeked around the bed to see Harry only slightly interested in his magazine. He groaned, tossed it away, and rubbed his face roughly. He sat up on the bed and swung his legs around, facing Ron.
"Wanna beat me at chess?" he asked, grinning competitively.
"Sure," Ron said quickly. "Let's use your set. It's on the table in the common room."
Harry leaned forward, reaching under his bed. "Nah, I brought it upstairs."
"Dammit," Ron cursed quietly, hopping on one foot, stuffing one of his legs into his black pants. He huffed slightly, "Well, go bring it downstairs and I'll be there in a minute."
"I'll wait for you," Harry said loyally. "It's no bother."
"Its fine," Ron said, through gritted teeth as his arms rubbed against the fabric uneasily.
Harry shrugged and, with his chess set under one arm, he headed down the stairs.
Ron could've cried when he heard the glorious sound of the door shutting behind Harry. He ripped off his robe and fell back onto his bed. The cool sheets brought instant relief.
He looked down at his angry violet scars with resentment. All this discomfort because he was being a git. He remembered how annoyed Harry was with bringing all those people to the Ministry, not wanted them to get hurt, or get in the way. Ron felt guilt burning in his throat as he thought of that day. He had only been more trouble for his best mate, the one person Harry could always count on for anything.
He was a blood traitor in more ways than one.