Anorexia's Worst Nightmare“Ronald Bilius Weasley, where do you think you’re going? Get down here immediately!” Mrs. Weasley screeched while waving a worn ladle threateningly up at her youngest son. Ron—who had frozen, mid-step, on the stairs—cursed and slowly turned around. Peering over a smirking Harry’s unruly mass of hair, he stared at his mother, wondering what he could have possibly done to upset her this time. Harry snickered.Anorexia's Worst Nightmare
Swallowing the sudden lump in this throat, Ron tentatively asked, “What?”
The red-haired woman appeared close to exploding. Drawing herself up to her full height—that,
Curing the Ill 8Sirius was nervous.Curing the Ill 8
No, he was more than nervous. There wasn’t even a word that could express the apprehension the teen felt right now. For the past hour, Sirius had been pacing around the Gryffindor boys’ dormitory, struggling to think of a reasonable lie to tell his friends about why he was staying in the same tower with their most loathed enemy, Severus Snape. However, the more he thought, the more dim-witted his lies were becoming.
“And to think that I have to go through all this pressure just to lie to my friends.” sighing, the Gryffindor ran a hand through his already messy hair and sat down on his old
ObscureSimplicity
Sentimental
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I know where you sleep!
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I know where you sleep!
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I know where you sleep!
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The play's the thing,
Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king.
Hamlet, Act II, scene ii
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