Title: Damage
Author: Annie Oates
Fandom: Potter!verse
Pairing: None, Ron's POV
Rating: G
Archive: Ask.
Disclaimers: Not mine, I'm a nasty little law-breaker.
Warnings: Nothing tramatic.
Author Notes: Written for Melle, because, "One would expect him to be a lot more fucked-up because of his childhood with the Dursleys, but he's not, and that frustrates me, because he should be, dammit!"
Summery: Everybody hoards.
Timeline: Harry's first year.
Feedback: Is welcome, in all forms.

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Ron didn't mean to find it.

Scabbers had gone missing again and he'd cast a location spell. A dim golden glow appeared beneath Harry's bed, pinpointing the wayward rat.

"Scabbers, what are you into, now? You'd better not be chewing on Harry's things again... he said the scarf wasn't a problem but you didn't see the look in his eyes."

Ron dropped down to his knees and belly-crawled into the warm light. Amidst a pile of wrappers a brown rat bottom squirmed, his head stuck inside a box of every-flavor beans. This wasn't unusual, almost every child at Hogwart's - with the exception of Percy and perhaps Hermione - kept a secret stash of sweets underneath their bed.

"Bloody pest, look at what you've done..." Ron reached for the rat, and the pile shifted. A dinner roll appeared from under a wizard trading card. Round and perfectly stale, the yeast looking like dust. Ron frowned and brushed the top layer aside, the sudden smell of last night's chicken made his stomach roll, as did the sight of this morning's pancakes.

"Oh, Harry..." Ron whispered sadly.

End.