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!”
"'course not, Harry," I lick my lips deliberately. "You know I heard Remus and Tonks talking about playing poker in Moody's tent.""Ron," Harry sticks his lower lip out. "Do not mention Moody. He...Well I was thinking he'd look really good with a tree shoved up his arse.""You're thinking about Moody?""Yes, bastard put me on kitchen duty," He shakes his head. "Really Ron what are you wearing?""Boxers," I laugh. "Should I be jealous of Moody. I mean your imagining him and I just want to know if he's the real competition.""That's just sick," Harry says and pretends to gag. "Wrong and sick.""Hagrid wouldn't think so," I waggle my eyebrows. "You know--I wonder how he and Madam Maxime get on. Their both so large!""Ron," Harry sighs. "You have sucessfully driven every thought of sex from my head. I'm not sure Gargantuan will work any longer.""Perhaps I should give him mouth to mouth," I waggle my eyebrows. "You know since you're already in trouble you should do something to deserve it."