Defining Secrets // Ron Weasley

Chapter Three: Complications and Formed Connections

Elise's POV:

My night, unlike most these past few years, wasn't spent well. Everything went on as usual and I was in bed by nine, only to spend the rest of it tossing and turning. It wasn't until three in the morning where the last of my sleep potion finally kicked in and I got my rest.

I woke up the next morning aching, and feeling as though I'd been shot in the stomach by a BB gun.

Although, when I first described the same evaluation to Luna, she stared at me curiously, all while gently nodding her head in profound confusion. So apparently, those didn't exist in the Wizarding world either.

Because while I was raised knowing of magic and Hogwarts, I also had a sort of Muggle upbringing. My Dad was Muggle born, and my Mum didn't mind staying in the same neighbourhood as where he grew up. Especially because it also got me to connect with some Muggle kids my age and experience some things I otherwise wouldn't have.

Occasionally, I thought back to all the children deprived of the typical, fun filled, Muggle childhoods and saddened.

I trudged past the entrance of the Great hall, picking up a little speed as I spotted my friends at the Gryffindor table, plopping down right next to Ron.

But just as they all were about to open their mouths to greet me, they soon snapped back shut. Harry's eyebrows furrowed in curiosity and Hermione ran her eyes all over my expression - which I hid behind my hair. Ron looked somewhere in-between to both anger and confusion.

The nightmares were back. I woke up a few hours too early with a little less screaming than years before, but was still disturbed enough to not be able to fall back asleep. Because while most of the dream was stuff I'd seen before, this one threw in something new.

The Thestrals. Something inside me stirred at my first sight of them. And now they'd begun seeping into my subconscious.

I stared downcast at my plate, avoiding their following eyes and helped myself to the spread before us.

Ron was pretty much immediately done with my silence. "What the bloody hell happened to you?"

"Ron!" Hermione lectured.

"What? I can't ask?"

My dark circles were clear, a blend of black and blue and heavy under my eyes. They were a more washed out, dusty amber, and didn't hold the same light they usually did. Having at least put in the effort to sort my hair before arriving, my curls stayed in place, though still slightly untamable and wild. It was clear from those bits alone that I was not doing too well.

Harry did his best to shoot me a sympathetic smile, handing me half of his newspaper. I gratefully accepted, excited to see he had also given me my favourite sections. With a slightly more uplifted mood, I flipped through the pages.

By then, Ron and Hermione's argument had ceased. Hermione deflated in her seat. Ron still looked pissed. I could have sworn I saw smoke pour from his ears, and blinked twice. He pressed his lips together, not daring to say another word. But when he finally looked back at me, I watched them soften and droop in concern.

I didn't need his pity. I hated the anxiety it made me feel. "Ron," I began, placing a hand over his, "I'm alright, I swear."

He didn't seem at all convinced, or was in any way reassured, but my droopy smile and tired eyes must have stopped him from wanting to ask further.

Ron took one look at me and sighed, squeezing my hand. "Fine."

I nodded back at him, unbelievably relieved at the sight of his angry mask slipping, and flipped the page.