I can’t sleep. Even with the tent to myself, I can’t get to sleep. Moody gave everyone their leave but I get to keep working off my ‘carelessness’, fucking wanker! I keep thinking about Ron and the fact that I miss his voice. I miss more than his voice, to be honest, but — to bloody hell with this!I pull the mirror from my pocket and am about to call when I think better of it. He’s probably busy.Busy doing what at this hour? He could be on rounds.Or he could be hurt! He’s not hurt.“How do you know?” Oh hell! I’m really losing it if I’m having an argument with myself over this! I decide to call him and actually end up waking him.He’s sleeping? While I’m sitting here worried sick over him?“Wake up, Ron!”
"Brilliant!"I stare at him a moment and realize this is the first time in weeks that I've seen him geniunely happy in a long time. His eyes are lit and the only time I see him with this particular glint is when we play Quidditch."You're dying to fly," I laugh and his eyes widen slightly. "I reckon after all these years I can tell when you want to go flying.""My Firebolt is getting no use at all," Harry frowns. "Moody won't let me take it out. Kingsley approved the time away?""I have to start at St. Mungo's on the third but," I chuckle. "I talked him into letting me attend the "gala". Told him it would look good for the Auror training department. Tonks backed me up.""Was that while you were giving her a physical?" Harry growls. "You're not going to let this go are you?"