Ron Weasley X Reader 1 | A Wild World, A Wad of Wizards, And A Wonderful Weasley

Chapter 1

"Up! Get up! Now!"

I jumped up, startled awake by the loud, obnoxious voice of Aunt Petunia. Her stupid knocking came at the door again as she continued to screech, "Up!"

"I wish I had a motorcycle," I muttered, feeling utterly jealous of my dream as I crouched inside of the small cupboard.

"Wait, you didn't dream about a flying motorcycle, di-" Harry was cut off by Aunt Petunia who was back at the door again, "Are you up yet?"

I let out a small, inaudible huff while Harry replied for the both of us, "Nearly." It was often times he did that. I reckoned Harry was the more even-tempered of the both of us.

"Well, get a move on," she snapped, "I want you two to look after the bacon. And don't you dare let it burn, I want everything perfect on Duddy's birthday."

Harry and I made direct eye contact, releasing the same groan when Aunt Petunia's irritating voice came from the other side of the door again, "What did you say?"

"We're so excited, is all," I replied while rubbing my eyes. Harry gave me a warning look.

Aunt Petunia tutted from the other side of the door, "What did I say about that attitude? I'll have you tending every meal of the day if you keep it up!"

"Yes, of course, very sorry," I mumbled, not caring to apologize properly. Harry shook his head disapprovingly; he was always saying I got into too much trouble. I reckoned none of that was really my fault.

Once we'd made it down the hall and into the kitchen, I couldn't help but develop even worse of a mood. The table might as well have been gone with how many presents Dudley had gotten!

Right as Harry was turning over the bacon, Uncle Vernon entered the kitchen and shouted out his first demand of the day to Harry, "Comb your hair!" Harry's hair was always all over the place, and it bothered Uncle Vernon to no end. I liked it that way. I figured whatever Uncle Vernon hated couldn't possibly be bad.

Harry and I set the table after Dudley had come downstairs with his mum and found himself a seat. For a moment, I even debated saying 'happy birthday' to Dudley, but then I reconsidered. Dudley didn't really deserve a happy birthday, did he?

Harry suddenly nudged me from under the table; it was awfully easy to do that since they'd sat us both so close together. I blinked, coming back to reality to spot Dudley on the brink of a tantrum and Harry quickly shoveling his bacon down his throat. I followed suit; he had the right idea, really. There was no telling what Dudley would do when upset.

Aunt Petunia was always fast on her tiny feet, seeing as she swiftly stepped in to stop her child from screaming until all of our ears bled, "And we'll buy you another two presents while we're out today." So that's what this was about, then? The number of presents? Well, that sounds like Dudley, alright.

It took him a minute to think everything over, "So I'll have thirty. . . thirty. . ." "Thirty-nine, sweetums," Aunt Petunia did the math for him. Dudley never was all that good at math. . . or english. . . or history. . . or really, any school subject that required even the slightest bit of intelligence. I reckoned he didn't have much of that—intelligence. He probably didn't even know what that word meant.

"Oh." He sat down again and grabbed the nearest parcel. The danger seemed to have passed. "Alright then."

Uncle Vernon chuckled, giving this tantrum his full support—as he always did—, "Little tyke wants his money's worth, just like his father. 'Atta boy, Dudley!" Dudley certainly was just like his father, that's for sure.