Imagine: The List
Fic posted by members of Vo's Imaginings YahooGroup


 

"Mr. Weasley, sit down and work on your essays. You might have screamed, ranted, and raved until you 'fainted from hunger' last night, you will not be repeating that performance tonight." Madam Umbridge says icily as Ron throws himself at the doorway.

"Mr. Weasley. . .Sit Down!!!" Umbridge snarls. Her fingers are itching to hex him with every curse she knows, then the teachers who have to have known what kind of student he was.

A bucket of ice water over his head stops the hysterics and she glares at him until he walks over to the desk. A drying charm has him ready for work and he sits down. He glares at her and crosses his arms over his chest in defiance.

"I won't do it, and you can't make me."

"Then sit here and starve, the house elves have orders not to feed you unless you have at least a foot done in three essays." She sticks him to the chair and silences him. "I will be back in the morning, if you have completed the work you will be released from your chair so you can shower and get some sleep while I grade your work. If I do not like what I see you will be doing it over." She walks out the door.

Ron glares at her retreating back and continues cussing her out silently. Damn it, it's not fair that she's making him work. Who does she think she is, his mother? He'll show her. He's going to send a letter to his Mum, she'll show that old biddy a thing or two. Of course Mum will go off on the woman, he's her baby boy and she does whatever he wants. . .conveniently forgetting being drug out of his nice warm bed to be made to do makeup work and study for his tests over the last two summers. And if by the offchance that she can't do anything, he'll get Harry and Hermione on her. After all, he's their best mate. They've already forgotten his little explosion this morning. . .haven't they. Yeah, when he walks to the Great Hall they'll be all over him.

He fantasizes about how everybody will rush to him the next morning, that in turns to his legions of fans when he goes pro. In the middle of his legions of groupies chanting his name, he falls asleep. He's woke up by the harpy screaming the following morning.

"About fucking time." He snorts when she releases him from the chair. "I've had to pee all night." he rushes to the bathroom and showers, ignoring the fact that he's wearing the same clothes for the last two days. "Yes." he races through the door she'd left open and runs to the Great Hall for breakfast.

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