Away for the weekend & Fic
Oct. 18th, 2003 01:45 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tarotgalI'll be away for the weekend- Sat through Sun. Just FYI. Don't expect anyone shall notice and I don't really have a send-off fic like last time... actually... yeah, I do... I REALLY need feedback on this, I think. Not beta feedback (though I wrote it at 6am so there are probably loads of uncaught mistakes) but I need to know whether
a)Ron seems to be both needy(expecting to be taken care of) and not wanting help from everyone (and if these two opposites work)
b)Harry tries to be comforting and doesn't think he's doing a good job of it(though really he's not too bad... just a little awkward)
I think I was going for both a & b and I don't know if either worked out at all.
Title: Attempts at Comfort
Author: tarotgal
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: G
Spoilers: none
Disclaimer: Oh come on now! Do I look like J.K.R.? Do I look like I’m getting money from this? And do I look like I’m not just a humble fan who spends what little money she gets on fanish pursuits?
Summary: In this very short PWP, Ron catches a cold and Harry tries to comfort him
Comments: Please help!
Attempts at Comfort
“Take a drink, Ron,” Harry advised, gesturing over to the steaming pitcher at the end of the locker room as he shrugged his cloak on after practice. The others were all helping themselves to cups of the frothy potion, and Harry had already gulped one down the moment he had entered. But Ron, who had had a terrible time at practice, had stormed right in and straight to the showers, leaving parts of his Quidditch uniform on the floor behind.
“I took a shower, I’m fine,” Ron said, stuffing his uniform away angrily, banging pads against the side of the locker as he shoved them in. He hit his head against a closed locker and swore so badly that Hermione would have done more than give him a scolding look. Practice had not gone very well for him, not helped at all by the pelting rain. “Let’s just go back to the tower, okay?”
“Kay,” Harry agreed, pulling up the hood on his robe and followed Ron out into the cold, pouring rain as they made their way up to the castle.
*
“I did say you should have had a drink, didn’t I?” Harry asked, brining a cold washcloth and pressing it to Ron’s forehead. Ron had been complaining of the ache in his head and he’d been very warm to the touch. His uncomfortable-ness combined with his annoyance of being sick had been difficult to endure, and it was only after a few hours that Harry thought of getting a cool compress for his head. Ron certainly needed it but wouldn’t propose the idea himself, feeling stubborn.
Ron glowered at him, washcloth covering the top part of his face, the rest of his body covered up to his chin with blankets. “You don’t have to say I told you so… I feel bad enough already,” Ron said crossly, nose wiggling with the need to sneeze. Harry inched the tissue box closer, allowing Ron to reach out for it. But Ron didn’t seem to be in the mood to be polite. “ahhShuhhhh! ehhhChuhhhh! uhhhShuhhhh! Sheshhhhh!” He took a tissue only when finished sneezing, and blew his nose weakly. He balled up the tissue and tossed it past Harry, who had settled down on Ron’s bed, to the foot of his bed along with the others. Ron groaned, rubbing his eyes with index finger and thumb for the sinus pressure behind them.
“Yeah, I know,” Harry said, trying to sound comforting, though knowing that he wasn’t making a very good show of it. Ron had comforted him a number of times in the past, through various injuries, illnesses, throbs of his scar, and countless other things. “But, hey, you miss lessons for a day, yeah?”
Ron gave a meek smile to indicate he really didn’t care about classes, especially if he was going to be feeling this sick in bed all day as an alternative. “hahhShuhhhh! hehShuhhh!” Ron repeated the action of blowing his nose and tossing the tissue. A rather considerable pile was forming there. Ron groaned again, sniffling, looking up at Harry. “Kill me now?” Ron begged. He reached out, finding the cuff of Harry’s sleeve and tugging dramatically. Harry gave a laugh but Ron shook his head. “No, you’re a mate, you’ve got to help me. I think I’m dying.” He put his hand to his head, flipping the washcloth over so the cool side was pressed to his head now. “Better to make it quick and fast rather than… than… this-” Harry pulled away, leaning over to allow Ron room to sneeze freely, as he seemed so fond of doing “-EHHHShuhhh! ahhhShuhh! ehhhChuhhh!”
Awkwardly, Harry patted Ron’s head, feeling the dampness of his red hair as he did so. “Bless you,” he said, again trying to be comforting about it.
They heard footsteps coming up the stairs and Ron jumped. He tugged the covers up to his nose, sniffling. As the door opened, letting the light from the hallway blare in momentarily, Ron slid down beneath his covers entirely. There were a few muffled sniffles, then a stifled sneeze that could only be discerned as a sneeze by Harry from hearing the deep intake of air and seeing the covers shake.
Harry looked around the hangings of Ron’s bed to see the other boys. “It’s only Neville, Dean and Seamus,” Harry said shaking Ron through the blankets. Ron slid back out, pushing down the heavy covers. Harry helped him readjust them, replaced the washcloth, and pulled the box of tissues close again. Ron was a little shaky and, added to looking sickly and sniffley, Harry thought he looked the worst he had ever looked, including both spitting up slugs and terrified when meeting Aragog.
“hehhhShuhhh! uhhhChuhhh!” He rubbed a finger under his nose miserably, then took a tissue and blew his nose.
“You sound terrible, Ron,” Neville said, glancing over at Ron through the open side of the hangings where Harry sat. “Maybe you should go down to Madam Pomfrey?” he suggested.
Ron shook his head. Harry had been suggesting that very thing all day, but Ron would have absolutely none of it. He insisted on staying in bed and not needing medicine, while all the while complaining and groaning and begging for Harry to finish him off. “No way,” Ron answered, stubbornly. Neville shrugged, unable to think of anything else to suggest. Turning to Harry, “You’re right,” Ron said, pulling the covers around himself tighter as he turned on his side. “I should have had some of that potion to drink. It was all that cold rain and… and… oh damn, I think I’m going to sneeze again… hand me a- heh- tissue?” Harry reached over Ron and took one from the box, pushing it into Ron’s hand just in time. “hehEHHShuhhhh! ehhhChuhhh! uhhhChahhh! ehhhChuhhhh!” He sniffled and blew his nose again, snuggling his pillow closer.
Harry readjusted the washcloth, holding it against Ron’s forehead as he kept slipping down now that he was sideways. “Anything I can get you, Mate?” Harry asked.
Ron shrugged. “Dunno what else you could do…” Harry saw his ears flush a violent red, and his cheeks might have followed if they weren’t already red from the fever. Sounding as though he was only saying this to be polite, “You don’t have to stay with me, Harry. You don’t. You’ve got homework and—”
Giving a short laugh, “You think I’d rather do homework than make sure you were all right?” He tucked the blankets around him and Ron seemed to take to it, enjoying the tightness but not brining himself to say so. “So, is there anything else you need?” Harry really had no clue. It had taken hours to think of a cool compress, for instance. So he tried, “What does your Mum do when you get sick?”
This time, Ron laughed. “You don’t want to go by her, Mate. Barely lets me breathe on my own.” He shied, smiling sheepishly. “But I could do for a cup of tea, if you could swing it.”
“Done!” Harry promised with a nod. He managed to head downstairs quickly, using a secret passage as a short cut. Dinner was still going on, and Harry had no trouble sneaking a cup of tea out. He took a small sweet cake along with it, hoping that might cheer Ron a little. Upon his return, Harry found Ron hiding beneath the covers again. “S’only me, Ron.” Ron crawled out again.
Ron, sniffling, let Harry sit him up. He took the tea gratefully, and ate the cake with a smile. “Thanks,” he said, finishing it up. “This helps a lot.” Harry smiled back, feeling at last as though he’d done something significant to comfort Ron. “Though if you could just kill me and get the rest of this suffering over with, I’d be even more grateful.” Harry firmly refused and told him to finish his tea.
Harry tucked him back beneath the covers when he was finished, putting the empty cup to the side. Ron looked terribly drowsy now, nodding off as soon as his cheek hit the pillow. Feeling his forehead again, Harry frowned. If he wasn’t any better by morning, he’d try and convince Ron to swallow his pride and go down to Madam Pomfrey.
The door to their dormitory opened again and Ron, even tired, slowly pulled the covers up over his head to hide himself. And this time, his attempt was justified. Harry looked to the door as Hermione came in, timidly. Coming around the bed and spotting Harry, she looked sympathetically at the lump in the bed. “How’s Ron?” she asked with a pitiful sigh.
“He’s not feeling too well,” Harry started, and felt Ron kick him or hit him or bump him or something from beneath the blankets. “He’ll be just fine after a good rest,” Harry tried again. “No need to worry.”
The lump beneath the blankets gasped, then shook several times with stifled sneezes. She looked suspiciously at the lump as a hand reached out and grabbed a tissue from the box. The muffled sound of blowing followed. Hermione sighed. “All right then. I suppose you know best, Harry, as he won’t see me. But if I can help…” she offered, looking as though she really did want to help and not scold him for catching cold in the first place.
“Thanks, Hermione. I’ve just got him some tea and I think he’s due to go to bed early. But thanks loads, just the same.” He wished she would stay and help him out. He felt lost when it came to this sort of thing. He’d never had so much as a sick dog to look after. But Ron had made it perfectly clear that he didn’t want Hermione around him when he was sick.
She nodded and turned from the room, shutting the door behind. Ron crawled out from beneath, his face was all a bright red now, and not just from embarrassment. He took a few gasps of the cool air and relaxed against his pillow. “I wouldn’t mind it so much if I didn’t look so bloody terrible,” he said, shrugging. “hehEHShhhhh! uhhhShuhhhh!” he sneezed weakly, pitching forward at each, and blew his nose again. “But I don’t want her seeing me like this, you know?”
It was true, Ron didn’t look overly handsome like this. But they’d all wound up in the hospital wing a bunch of times before. Still, Harry could name a few people he didn’t want looking at him whenever he got sick, and he had to admit to hiding himself away whenever he got a sniffle from too much Quidditch practice in the rain. But that was mainly because, as a child, that’s what he’d done every time he’d come down with something, retreat to his cupboard so as not to bother the Dursleys. And he certainly expected no hovering mother as Ron was used to, because Aunt Petunia didn’t do much more than throw cold tablets and meals in at him when he was sick.
Harry looked down at Ron, finding him asleep. Mouth open, hand half clutching a balled-up tissue. Harry eased it out of his grip and tossed it to the others before making the lot of them disappear. He patted Ron’s shoulder through the blankets, then retreated to his own bed.
But he didn’t close the hangings. He kept them open so he could look up periodically and be sure Ron was still all right. He didn’t fancy Ron waking up sneezey and feverish and alone. So he kept an eye on him as Harry finished his homework. And when he went to bed, himself, he kept his own curtains open so Ron would be able to see him when he woke. Though Harry hoped very much that Ron would be able to sleep through until morning because he was exhausted. He didn’t know how Mrs.Weasley did it, taking care of as many children as she had. Just one sick Ron was enough and Harry wasn’t even sure he was even coming close to helping him at all.
*
Ron woke in the middle of the night, burning with fever. He felt oddly disoriented, unable to tell if he’d burst out of his dreams or whether he was still in them. He felt terrible, a thousand things wrong with him that he couldn’t begin to list. But before he could moan miserably for assistance, he looked over, having a clear view of Harry.
Harry lay on his own bed, fast asleep but facing Ron. Ron smiled, remembering the evening of sniffling Harry had seen him through, and didn’t feel much like calling out to complain any more. He snuggled back against his own pillow after grabbing another tissue and rubbing his nose. And he didn’t bother closing the hangings as it made him feel better just to know his best mate was trying to watch over him, even though he was asleep. “Night Harry,” he whispered, felling back to sleep again, despite all the aches, stuffiness, and discomfort.
I think I rely too much on exposition and not enough on action/dialogue evidence. I think it needs another round of editing but GAH! I'd meant it to be just a tiny exercise fic and now it's gone all weird on me. So help would be VERY much appreciated.
And I promise to sit down and get back to EVERYONE the moment I get back :-) I'm so behind- I'm so sorry!!!!
a)Ron seems to be both needy(expecting to be taken care of) and not wanting help from everyone (and if these two opposites work)
b)Harry tries to be comforting and doesn't think he's doing a good job of it(though really he's not too bad... just a little awkward)
I think I was going for both a & b and I don't know if either worked out at all.
Title: Attempts at Comfort
Author: tarotgal
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: G
Spoilers: none
Disclaimer: Oh come on now! Do I look like J.K.R.? Do I look like I’m getting money from this? And do I look like I’m not just a humble fan who spends what little money she gets on fanish pursuits?
Summary: In this very short PWP, Ron catches a cold and Harry tries to comfort him
Comments: Please help!
Attempts at Comfort
“Take a drink, Ron,” Harry advised, gesturing over to the steaming pitcher at the end of the locker room as he shrugged his cloak on after practice. The others were all helping themselves to cups of the frothy potion, and Harry had already gulped one down the moment he had entered. But Ron, who had had a terrible time at practice, had stormed right in and straight to the showers, leaving parts of his Quidditch uniform on the floor behind.
“I took a shower, I’m fine,” Ron said, stuffing his uniform away angrily, banging pads against the side of the locker as he shoved them in. He hit his head against a closed locker and swore so badly that Hermione would have done more than give him a scolding look. Practice had not gone very well for him, not helped at all by the pelting rain. “Let’s just go back to the tower, okay?”
“Kay,” Harry agreed, pulling up the hood on his robe and followed Ron out into the cold, pouring rain as they made their way up to the castle.
“I did say you should have had a drink, didn’t I?” Harry asked, brining a cold washcloth and pressing it to Ron’s forehead. Ron had been complaining of the ache in his head and he’d been very warm to the touch. His uncomfortable-ness combined with his annoyance of being sick had been difficult to endure, and it was only after a few hours that Harry thought of getting a cool compress for his head. Ron certainly needed it but wouldn’t propose the idea himself, feeling stubborn.
Ron glowered at him, washcloth covering the top part of his face, the rest of his body covered up to his chin with blankets. “You don’t have to say I told you so… I feel bad enough already,” Ron said crossly, nose wiggling with the need to sneeze. Harry inched the tissue box closer, allowing Ron to reach out for it. But Ron didn’t seem to be in the mood to be polite. “ahhShuhhhh! ehhhChuhhhh! uhhhShuhhhh! Sheshhhhh!” He took a tissue only when finished sneezing, and blew his nose weakly. He balled up the tissue and tossed it past Harry, who had settled down on Ron’s bed, to the foot of his bed along with the others. Ron groaned, rubbing his eyes with index finger and thumb for the sinus pressure behind them.
“Yeah, I know,” Harry said, trying to sound comforting, though knowing that he wasn’t making a very good show of it. Ron had comforted him a number of times in the past, through various injuries, illnesses, throbs of his scar, and countless other things. “But, hey, you miss lessons for a day, yeah?”
Ron gave a meek smile to indicate he really didn’t care about classes, especially if he was going to be feeling this sick in bed all day as an alternative. “hahhShuhhhh! hehShuhhh!” Ron repeated the action of blowing his nose and tossing the tissue. A rather considerable pile was forming there. Ron groaned again, sniffling, looking up at Harry. “Kill me now?” Ron begged. He reached out, finding the cuff of Harry’s sleeve and tugging dramatically. Harry gave a laugh but Ron shook his head. “No, you’re a mate, you’ve got to help me. I think I’m dying.” He put his hand to his head, flipping the washcloth over so the cool side was pressed to his head now. “Better to make it quick and fast rather than… than… this-” Harry pulled away, leaning over to allow Ron room to sneeze freely, as he seemed so fond of doing “-EHHHShuhhh! ahhhShuhh! ehhhChuhhh!”
Awkwardly, Harry patted Ron’s head, feeling the dampness of his red hair as he did so. “Bless you,” he said, again trying to be comforting about it.
They heard footsteps coming up the stairs and Ron jumped. He tugged the covers up to his nose, sniffling. As the door opened, letting the light from the hallway blare in momentarily, Ron slid down beneath his covers entirely. There were a few muffled sniffles, then a stifled sneeze that could only be discerned as a sneeze by Harry from hearing the deep intake of air and seeing the covers shake.
Harry looked around the hangings of Ron’s bed to see the other boys. “It’s only Neville, Dean and Seamus,” Harry said shaking Ron through the blankets. Ron slid back out, pushing down the heavy covers. Harry helped him readjust them, replaced the washcloth, and pulled the box of tissues close again. Ron was a little shaky and, added to looking sickly and sniffley, Harry thought he looked the worst he had ever looked, including both spitting up slugs and terrified when meeting Aragog.
“hehhhShuhhh! uhhhChuhhh!” He rubbed a finger under his nose miserably, then took a tissue and blew his nose.
“You sound terrible, Ron,” Neville said, glancing over at Ron through the open side of the hangings where Harry sat. “Maybe you should go down to Madam Pomfrey?” he suggested.
Ron shook his head. Harry had been suggesting that very thing all day, but Ron would have absolutely none of it. He insisted on staying in bed and not needing medicine, while all the while complaining and groaning and begging for Harry to finish him off. “No way,” Ron answered, stubbornly. Neville shrugged, unable to think of anything else to suggest. Turning to Harry, “You’re right,” Ron said, pulling the covers around himself tighter as he turned on his side. “I should have had some of that potion to drink. It was all that cold rain and… and… oh damn, I think I’m going to sneeze again… hand me a- heh- tissue?” Harry reached over Ron and took one from the box, pushing it into Ron’s hand just in time. “hehEHHShuhhhh! ehhhChuhhh! uhhhChahhh! ehhhChuhhhh!” He sniffled and blew his nose again, snuggling his pillow closer.
Harry readjusted the washcloth, holding it against Ron’s forehead as he kept slipping down now that he was sideways. “Anything I can get you, Mate?” Harry asked.
Ron shrugged. “Dunno what else you could do…” Harry saw his ears flush a violent red, and his cheeks might have followed if they weren’t already red from the fever. Sounding as though he was only saying this to be polite, “You don’t have to stay with me, Harry. You don’t. You’ve got homework and—”
Giving a short laugh, “You think I’d rather do homework than make sure you were all right?” He tucked the blankets around him and Ron seemed to take to it, enjoying the tightness but not brining himself to say so. “So, is there anything else you need?” Harry really had no clue. It had taken hours to think of a cool compress, for instance. So he tried, “What does your Mum do when you get sick?”
This time, Ron laughed. “You don’t want to go by her, Mate. Barely lets me breathe on my own.” He shied, smiling sheepishly. “But I could do for a cup of tea, if you could swing it.”
“Done!” Harry promised with a nod. He managed to head downstairs quickly, using a secret passage as a short cut. Dinner was still going on, and Harry had no trouble sneaking a cup of tea out. He took a small sweet cake along with it, hoping that might cheer Ron a little. Upon his return, Harry found Ron hiding beneath the covers again. “S’only me, Ron.” Ron crawled out again.
Ron, sniffling, let Harry sit him up. He took the tea gratefully, and ate the cake with a smile. “Thanks,” he said, finishing it up. “This helps a lot.” Harry smiled back, feeling at last as though he’d done something significant to comfort Ron. “Though if you could just kill me and get the rest of this suffering over with, I’d be even more grateful.” Harry firmly refused and told him to finish his tea.
Harry tucked him back beneath the covers when he was finished, putting the empty cup to the side. Ron looked terribly drowsy now, nodding off as soon as his cheek hit the pillow. Feeling his forehead again, Harry frowned. If he wasn’t any better by morning, he’d try and convince Ron to swallow his pride and go down to Madam Pomfrey.
The door to their dormitory opened again and Ron, even tired, slowly pulled the covers up over his head to hide himself. And this time, his attempt was justified. Harry looked to the door as Hermione came in, timidly. Coming around the bed and spotting Harry, she looked sympathetically at the lump in the bed. “How’s Ron?” she asked with a pitiful sigh.
“He’s not feeling too well,” Harry started, and felt Ron kick him or hit him or bump him or something from beneath the blankets. “He’ll be just fine after a good rest,” Harry tried again. “No need to worry.”
The lump beneath the blankets gasped, then shook several times with stifled sneezes. She looked suspiciously at the lump as a hand reached out and grabbed a tissue from the box. The muffled sound of blowing followed. Hermione sighed. “All right then. I suppose you know best, Harry, as he won’t see me. But if I can help…” she offered, looking as though she really did want to help and not scold him for catching cold in the first place.
“Thanks, Hermione. I’ve just got him some tea and I think he’s due to go to bed early. But thanks loads, just the same.” He wished she would stay and help him out. He felt lost when it came to this sort of thing. He’d never had so much as a sick dog to look after. But Ron had made it perfectly clear that he didn’t want Hermione around him when he was sick.
She nodded and turned from the room, shutting the door behind. Ron crawled out from beneath, his face was all a bright red now, and not just from embarrassment. He took a few gasps of the cool air and relaxed against his pillow. “I wouldn’t mind it so much if I didn’t look so bloody terrible,” he said, shrugging. “hehEHShhhhh! uhhhShuhhhh!” he sneezed weakly, pitching forward at each, and blew his nose again. “But I don’t want her seeing me like this, you know?”
It was true, Ron didn’t look overly handsome like this. But they’d all wound up in the hospital wing a bunch of times before. Still, Harry could name a few people he didn’t want looking at him whenever he got sick, and he had to admit to hiding himself away whenever he got a sniffle from too much Quidditch practice in the rain. But that was mainly because, as a child, that’s what he’d done every time he’d come down with something, retreat to his cupboard so as not to bother the Dursleys. And he certainly expected no hovering mother as Ron was used to, because Aunt Petunia didn’t do much more than throw cold tablets and meals in at him when he was sick.
Harry looked down at Ron, finding him asleep. Mouth open, hand half clutching a balled-up tissue. Harry eased it out of his grip and tossed it to the others before making the lot of them disappear. He patted Ron’s shoulder through the blankets, then retreated to his own bed.
But he didn’t close the hangings. He kept them open so he could look up periodically and be sure Ron was still all right. He didn’t fancy Ron waking up sneezey and feverish and alone. So he kept an eye on him as Harry finished his homework. And when he went to bed, himself, he kept his own curtains open so Ron would be able to see him when he woke. Though Harry hoped very much that Ron would be able to sleep through until morning because he was exhausted. He didn’t know how Mrs.Weasley did it, taking care of as many children as she had. Just one sick Ron was enough and Harry wasn’t even sure he was even coming close to helping him at all.
Ron woke in the middle of the night, burning with fever. He felt oddly disoriented, unable to tell if he’d burst out of his dreams or whether he was still in them. He felt terrible, a thousand things wrong with him that he couldn’t begin to list. But before he could moan miserably for assistance, he looked over, having a clear view of Harry.
Harry lay on his own bed, fast asleep but facing Ron. Ron smiled, remembering the evening of sniffling Harry had seen him through, and didn’t feel much like calling out to complain any more. He snuggled back against his own pillow after grabbing another tissue and rubbing his nose. And he didn’t bother closing the hangings as it made him feel better just to know his best mate was trying to watch over him, even though he was asleep. “Night Harry,” he whispered, felling back to sleep again, despite all the aches, stuffiness, and discomfort.
I think I rely too much on exposition and not enough on action/dialogue evidence. I think it needs another round of editing but GAH! I'd meant it to be just a tiny exercise fic and now it's gone all weird on me. So help would be VERY much appreciated.
And I promise to sit down and get back to EVERYONE the moment I get back :-) I'm so behind- I'm so sorry!!!!
Creative Criticism
Date: 2003-10-19 06:24 am (UTC)Harry, on the other hand, i think you captured perfectly. He tried to help, and he wanted to, but he didn't really know what to do. This resulted in a lunkish attempt at taking care of a sick Ron. Harry, however, shows a lot of heart.
I do think that there was a lot of expos without enough action to it. It seemed to end right when the plot would really take off, you know? Ron was in dire need of attention, and then it ended. From that point, Ron could make a transition from "if he helps, that's cool, but if he doesn't, that's ok with me too" to a more " i want to be babied attitude." Harry could either get the hang of it, or never really get the hang out of it, but the story's ending could focus something on: "even tho he did a good job, he still had a lot to learn.." or something of that nature.
Nooow letme tell you what I loved about it.
I loved the idea of Ron getting sick for once, even tho my fave one to get sick would always be harry. i love wood tho too. ohh, has anyone ever done a cedric fic? hmm just an idea u may wanna use one day. not a hint, seriously just an idea.
I like that picture of Ron's sweaty red hair. for some reason, it just sounds good where it was placed. i also liked the picture of him waking up at nite, a bit confused and all, but i woujld have liked that to not have ended, but continued.
The beginning, on how he got sick, was really cool. I like to see how characters get sick, provides me more of an insite into the fic. I liked that concept a lot Tg.
This is an excellent start, and even a good fic, but i think that it can be turned into an excellent fic, with a bit more plot continuation. The characters seemed developed to me, however, if u wanted to percieve Ron as needy, to me, i think that needs a bit more explination.
I really liked it, good work.
And we all do miss you when you gooo!!! have fun!
~Annalisa
Re: Creative Criticism
Date: 2003-10-19 04:09 pm (UTC)To start off randomly- I've never thought of a Cedric-fic. I don't know that I have too clear a picture of his character... though he's got a lot of well-roundedness to him that would be lots of fun to explore.
With a Mom like Mrs.Weasley, I'd imagine Ron gets smothered a lot when he's sick at home. And I can see him as being very used to that kind of comfort... and yet, at the same time feel as though he's growing out of it a little... but even men can be babies when they're sick. Anyway, I didn't really decide to go for that until I reached the end, and I agree it does need a lot more work- so thank you MUCH for pointing out those areas. I think extending the fic another 2 or 3 pages even would help. And your suggestion for the ending is WONDERFUL! YAY! Thank you! This helps me a lot!