☼ Author's Note! ☼ If you recognise anything, chances are I don't own it. The characters are just Barbie dolls I 'borrowed' from JKR.

Nothing ever really happened to him, Ron Weasley thought, sitting in a squashy armchair in the Gryffindor common room. Hermione was busy studying in a corner, and Harry was away somewhere, probably saving the world. This happened, on average, once a year, and Ron had learned to live with this. He wasn't always invited, which he counted as a blessing- he had previously been knocked unconscious by a giant chess piece, imprisoned with a curious, memory-less Professor Lockhart, been mauled by a giant dog, and been attacked by multiple hostile brains. Yes, brains.

Not that Ron was a wimp, but he couldn't help but feel that he got overlooked a little. It was always Harry who faced You Know Who, and Hermione who figured out where he was, and what to do when they got there.

Sighing, he heaved himself from his chair, perilously dizzy from the sudden altitude. Deciding he needed an adventure, Ron clambered out of the portrait hole. Hermione didn't even notice.

The corridors were deathly silent. Being after hours, Ron tiptoed as quietly as he could, for risk of being heard. On and on he went, growing weary from travel. Beginning to wonder if he would ever find the desired portrait, Ron stopped short. Were those… footsteps? He cast around for somewhere to hide, but there were no rooms along this particular hallway. Heart racing, thinking fast, he muttered a spell to disguise himself as a suit of armour.

Would this work? Could he pull it off? Ron contemplated what was at stake. If he was caught by Snape, he would most likely be subjected to the Cruciatus Curse- if no one else was around, that is. If, however, some other teacher found him prowling the corridors at night, they would give him – god forbid – detention! Merely thinking about the horror and shame cut his breathing short. The footsteps grew louder. Suddenly, preceded by a midnight blue cloak, Professor Dumbledore swept around the corner. Ron worried that the smell of sweat creeping down his neck, or the glow of his crimson ears would give him away, not to mention the racket his heart was making. Dumbledore grew closer. Balling his hands into fists, Ron held his breath. The old wizard was ten feet away. Five. Two. One…! As he passed, Ron could have sworn (which he frequently did anyway) that Dumbledore had flashed him the most fleeting of mischievous grins.

As soon as Dumbledore was out of sight, Ron removed the charm and swore. Why did people always let him off easy? If he were Harry, he would have received a lecture on disregard for his own safety. Even Hermione would get a scolding, for her 'surprising and disappointing' behaviour. Swearing, Ron continued on his epic quest.

This was it. He, Ronald Weasley, had reached his destination- a portrait of a bowl of fruit. What's more, he had done it without Harry's bravery or Hermione's intelligence. However, his mission was not over. Raising a trembling hand to the portrait, he performed the secret ritual needed to pass. The painted pair giggled feebly upon being tickled out of sleep. Torturously slowly, the door swung inwards, and shafts of white light erupted from the doorway. This was it…

"Yeah… gimme a bowl of macaroni cheese. Extra cheese. And a couple of sausages. Hold the sausages, I'll have bacon instead. No, both. No! I mean…" The house elves looked at him incredulously. He was faced with a vital snap decision that would affect his life for about ten minutes afterwards. The stress brought beads of sweat to his forehead. Taking a breath and bracing himself, The Mighty Ronald announced, "I-WANNA-BOWL-OF-MACARONI-CHEESE-WITH-EXTRA-CHEESE-AND-SAUSAGES-AND-BACON." Phew, that was exhausting.

Sitting snugly in front of the common room fire with his trophy – a steaming bowl of macaroni cheese with sausages and bacon – Ron was finally able to relax after his ordeal. No way was he doing that again, it was far too dangerous.

Then Ron realised something. The house elves, unimpressed at being woken and forced to prepare an unhealthy snack for an indecisive teenager, had "forgotten" to give him a fork.