Disclaimer: As much as I wish I had my very own Ron, I don’t. JKR owns him along with all those publisher peoples. Lucky them.
Summary: Takes place after the visit to St. Mungo’s. Hermione’s dwelling on a certain something one of the wizards said. Hehehe…
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As they climbed the staircase, the photos of various Healers called out to them, diagnosing odd complaints and suggesting horrible remedies. Ron was seriously affronted when a medieval wizard called out that he clearly had a bad case of spattergroit.
"And what's that supposed to be?" he asked angrily, as the Healer pursued him through six more portraits, shoving the occupants out of the way.
"'Tis a most grievous affliction of the skin, young master, that will leave you pockmarked and more gruesome even than you are now --"
"Watch who you're calling gruesome!" said Ron, his ears turning red.
"The only remedy is to take the liver of a toad, bind it tight about your throat, stand naked by the full moon in a barrel of eels' eyes --"
"I have not got spattergroit!"
"But the unsightly blemishes on your visage, young master --"
"They're freckles!" said Ron furiously. "Now get back in your own picture and leave me alone!"
He rounded on the others, who were all keeping determinedly straight faces.
- Order of the Phoenix, Ch. 23, Christmas on the Closed Ward
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Bloody wizard. He wasn’t even a proper wizard, you know, just a painting. But honestly, where does he get off telling Ron that he’s got spattergroit? And really, that remedy was just absolutely ridiculous. I don’t know what’s worse, how preposterous it is or the fact that it put the image of a naked Ron in my head.
I wasn’t even paying attention to what the blathering idiot was saying. Apparently, though, I come equipped with Ron radars, (hormones, whichever you prefer) so the bit about a Ron with no clothes somehow made it to my brain. And that stupid image is wreaking havoc with my head.
See, my brain is a filing cabinet. All the information in there has a place and everything is neat and orderly. There’s a Charms section, a Transfiguration section, a Prefect duties section, etc. There is no naked Ron section. So that image doesn’t have anywhere to go. It’s floating around aimlessly and obviously that’s why I keep thinking about it.
I don’t know how I got through dinner. He sat right across from me too. I think I looked at my plate the entire time. You know, most people don’t realize just how interesting spinach is. It’s health too. Isn’t it supposed to make you really strong? That cartoon character… Popeye… he’d eat it and then he’d have these huge muscles. Mmm… bet Ron’s got nice muscles. All that Quidditch… no! I’m not allowed to think things like that. Right, I need to go for a walk. Yes, walking is good. Very good.
Okay, walking is officially bad because I just walked past the very last person I wanted to see. I wasn’t even going to come this way but I figured I’d take the chance because he was supposed to be downstairs washing dishes. A wet, soapy Ron… Merlin! What is wrong with me?
Right, forgetting about a dripping wet Ron covered in soap bubbles… ‘hem. So anyway, he’s in his room, standing in front of this mirror. I can see him but he hasn’t spotted me yet. That’s probably because he’s leaning in really closely and looking at his face. Good, I’m just going to head downstairs then. Except my feet aren’t going that way. They’re walking towards Ron’s doorway… no… bad feet! Sit! Stay! Damn feet.
I’m standing in his doorway now, but he hasn’t seen me so there’s still time to run for it. Or there was time to run before my throat made a funny noise announcing my presence and he turned to look. Damn throat.
“Checking for spattergroit?” I hear my mouth ask, but I definitely did not give it permission to open. Obviously that lost image in my head has decided that it would much rather take over my body than be filed away.
Now I’ve got some crazy force tugging at my lips. They’re moving into some kind of… I don’t know what it is. Grin? Smirk? Come hither smile? You’d have to ask that image because I wouldn’t be able to tell you.
My eyes, which, if I had my way, would be staring at my really lovely and interesting shoes, are locked on Ron, so I notice when a pink tinge appears on his cheeks and ears.
“Of course not,” he mumbles, and a delicious chill runs down my spine. A completely annoying and unwanted chill of course.
“Oh.” My traitorous mouth is once again speaking without my permission. “Well, if you want any help with that remedy, let me know.”
My mouth isn’t allowed to say things like that! That’s practically innuendo… coming from my mouth! And Ron’s ears are fiery red now and his mouth is hanging open just a bit. He’s giving me this funny look and my eye is just aching to wink at him but that would be really horrible so I’m refusing to let it only it’s twitching now and I must look completely ridiculous and “
“I think I’ll survive without the remedy,” he says casually. That was quick. While I was fighting with my eye he must have composed himself. Now he’s yawning.
“I’m going to turn in then,” he announces. I gaze at him in confusion.
“Turn in? But it’s only…” I glance down at my watch. “It’s ten fifteen! Since when is it ten fifteen?”
“Since it’s no longer ten fourteen?” he says. I’d glare at him but I’m staring at my watch in absolute shock.
“But it was only half past seven when we finished dinner.” Obviously someone is trying to cheat me out of three hours of my life by playing an elaborate joke. Ron’s talking again and I’m watching the secondhand to see if it somehow sped up when I wasn’t looking.
“You’re right,” he’s saying. “It was only seven thirty when we finished eating. And then you disappeared into your room, during which time I washed the dishes, wrote a letter to Bill and beat Harry in about eight games of chess.
Ron’s voice sounds kind of muffled. I glance up… no… what the hell does he think he’s doing? He can’t do that, he’d not allowed! Except apparently rules don’t apply to him because he’s doing it anyway. Merlin, I don’t believe this. He’s taken off his shirt.
He’s standing in front of my shirtless! Did he forget I was here or something? No, even he’s not that thick. But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s not wearing a shirt.
He’s actually quite nice to look at. Lovely stomach, muscular arms, and a lot of freckles. Oooh, I swear he’s got a smirk on his face.
“Er, Ron, why did you take your shirt off?” Ah yes, definitely my voice again. If that image was still controlling my mouth I wouldn’t sound like a gnat. And yeah, he’s smirking.
“Getting ready for bed,” he says easily, and his hands are moving down to his trousers. I can’t breathe. I physically can’t breathe. He can’t take those off, he wouldn’t “
“Ron, why’re you undressing in front of Hermione?” Harry’s voice sounds really loud right now. I suppose that’s because he’s standing right behind me, watching Ron with a bemused look on his face. Ron’s gone bright red. Serves him right. Honestly though, he looks so cute with his ears all red like that. And it would be so easy to simply yank down those trousers so that the Ron in front of me matches the Ron in my head… whoa, down girl. Half-naked is more skin that I can handle at the moment. Full naked would probably kill me.
Ron’s stammering some kind of excuse as to why his shirts of and his trousers are undone. Harry’s just standing there, one eyebrow raised. You know, I think it’s time to make my exit.
“I think I’ll just nip off to bed then…” gah. My voice still sounds like an insect on helium. “Night Harry, night Ron.” I say all that quickly then push past Harry and race back to my room.
I’m never going to get to sleep though. Between that damn image skipping around my mind and the half-naked Ron I see every time I close my eyes, it’s just not happening. Not that I mind… no, that’s the image. I do mind. I don’t want to dream about naked Rons. Muscular Rons who are sopping wet and have water dripping down their fabulously gorgeous chests…
Bugger.