Author: Sazmuffin
Disclaimer: I own nothing
Title: Over Your Head
Ship: Ron/OC
Rating: T
A/N: I don't even know why I chose that title.
Disregard the last book. :P
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The ruby sun began to set as Ron dismounted from his broom in front of the young reporter. His Chudley Cannon uniform clashed brilliantly with his ginger hair, making him almost hard to look at. But the witch seemed unscathed as she threw him a flirtatious smile. Ron only leaned against the butt of his broom, trying to come off as debonaire.
"Ron Weasley?" she asked, gripping her notepad.
"You rang?"
"I'm Gwendolyn Appariggio, it's nice to meet you," Gwendolyn held out her free hand, which Ron shook.
"And you."
"Is it all right if I ask you a few questions?"
"Search me if you must," Ron grinned and laughed at his own joke. He silently let out a sigh of relief when he heard her laugh as well.
"You have every right to refuse to answer the question; I won't think anything of it," she smiled with him, showcasing her bright teeth.
"The Daily Prophet sure has changed in these past months," he observed, laughing again.
"Too right, Mr. Weasley," Gwendolyn paused for a moment, reading a question off her notepad, "You've known Harry Potter since your first year at Hogwarts, correct?"
"Yes, that I have." Ron stood a little straighter at that moment, as he added, "And please, call me Ron."
She nodded, smiling. "And from that point on, you preceded to 'wreak havoc' on the school with your many, many trials and tribulations with V-Voldemort?"
"I can't tell a lie, that is true."
"What was it like?"
Ron shifted his broomstick in front of him, so he could lean his forearms atop each other on the butt end. "Most times it was just Harry who faced him. Hermione and I did a lot of the planning with him; we were involved, don't get me wrong. I went into the Chamber of Secrets with him in second year, I was dragged into the Whomping Willow by Sirius Black, I went to the Ministry with him in fifth year. It was just never really me that faced Voldemort, not even at the final battle."
"But you fought Death Eaters, correct?"
"Yes, that I did do. A lot of people commend me on it; say I did the world a grand service by helping get rid of them. And I know that I did. But taking a life is still taking a life. I learned that from Harry."
"Very wise from someone so young," Gwendolyn looked quite impressed. "Would you say Harry is like a mentor to you?"
Ron thought on her question. "Not a mentor, really. Yeah, I go to him for advice and I hold him very high in the people I respect. I like to think that I can learn from him, since he's already gone through so much. He'll curse me into oblivion when he hears this, but I guess I can say that I admire him."
"Now why would he do that?"
Ron chuckled, "He may be The Boy Who Lived Twice, The Chosen One, but he can't take a compliment worth a rat's scrawny ass."
Gwendolyn laughed at loud at that, scribbling down his words at lightning speeds.
It had completely thrown him off guard to hear from the Daily Prophet in the days previous to this. He had not expected anyone to be interested in the people who assisted in the killing of Voldemort; just the person who did it. But the Wizarding community had gone through monumental changes in the months following the second and final demise of Tom Riddle.
As she took a moment to catch up on her notes, Ron gave her a once-over. Gwendolyn was petite; she reached his bicep, at most. Her sunflower hair was cropped short; pieces cut jaggedly at her ears, nose, chin, and neck. On anyone else, it would've looked terrible. But on her, it looked oddly attractive. Her eyes were large, with long lashes shielding a pair of green eyes. But they were not a green like Harry's; Ron noticed small flecks of blue in them, thinking her to be of Nordic decent. Gwendolyn dressed smartly; with a gold blouse beneath a simple, black cotton blazer, paired with a black skirt that left nothing to the imagination. Her hem was dangerously hiked up, making him question her motives. On her feet were a pair of gold heels, encasing her small feet with sharp, three-inch spikes that poked into the ground where she stood. But she looked good, no doubt about that.
"So what is the real Ron Weasley like?" she asked, an intrigued look on her face as she looked back up on him.
"Well, what do you want to know?" Ron laughed, playing with the handle of his broom; swinging it this way and that. "Big family, even bigger lot of friends who we consider family. Godfather, uncle, best man; you can call me nearly anything but boyfriend, husband, and father, Miss Appariggio."
Gwendolyn winked, "Gwen, if you will." She nodded for him to continue.
"I was always rubbish at quidditch, but Harry taught me that too. I've been a Cannons fan since before I can remember, really. My best mates are Harry Potter and Hermione Granger. I'm in good standing with Luna Lovegood, editor in chief of The Quibbler. I lived through the best and worst times of Hogwarts, of the world. I like to think that I'm rather spoiled sometimes, because I know it's true. Nothing can match my family, by blood or by trust."
"Well said, Ron," Gwen grinned, a knowing look upon her features. "What do you have to say on the confusions concerning Albus Dumbledore's life?"
"I think he's human, Gwen," he registered that there was a bite in his voice not geared towards her, but towards Rita Skeeter. "I think he made mistakes in his youth, as I have, as Harry has, as many people before us have. I don't believe that one series of bad happenings overpowers so many other series of extraordinary achievements for the world. Albus Dumbledore was a great man, a powerful wizard, and a mentor to all of us. I'm ashamed to even hear that someone would befoul him in death, leave the bloke in peace!"
Gwendolyn grinned again. "I couldn't agree more. What are these rumors going around that you are involved with Hermione Granger?"
Ron smiled a sad smile. "I can admit that I fancied her throughout my entire Hogwarts years. I care about her deeply, and I know she does too. But soon I realized that it was more of a brotherly love, the kind I have for my sister. We decided to stop it from going any farther. I'm just waiting for the right person."
"I must warn you, Ron, this is a rather personal question," she warned, and took a breath. "When you saw the supposedly dead body of Harry Potter in Rubeus Hagrid's arms, what was going through your head?"
The memory flashed before his eyes and he choked back a sob. Even now, remembering his friend to be dead, although he wasn't, was still hard. "It was probably one of the lowest points in my life. I was already torn up over my brother, Fred Weasley, passing away during the battle. My mind was going everywhere; worrying for the rest of my family and Harry and Hermione and everyone I ever cared about. But when I saw Harry dead and Voldemort alive, I retched. I couldn't even form a thought," Ron paused for a moment, and then laughed. "I can tell you, Gwen, that I nearly tore him to pieces once the battle was over. I felt like my mother, I asked him what the bloody hell was wrong with him before I gave him a bone-crushing hug. He scared the bloody hell out of me, I couldn't help myself." Ron shrugged, grinning shyly.
"And rightfully so," Gwen countered, tapping him on the shoulder. "What do you think of Severus Snape, now that has been cleared?"
"I don't have a very great outlook on Snape as I do Dumbledore. Although I can say that he was an extremely brave man, for walking on both sides of the fence."
As he spoke, he could tell Gwen was giving him a once-over, just as he had. He wore most of his usual uniform, except for the heavy cloak they wore during games. Harry had bought Ron his very own Firebolt in the weeks following the battle. He said he wanted to thank Ron for all the things he had done for him in the past seven years, and he couldn't think of a better gift. Ron still stood very tall; he had grown another couple of inches, and now stood at six-feet-two-inches. His ginger hair hung low at his ears, matted with sweat. He smelled nothing short of sweaty, but Gwendolyn took no notice. They both shared bright, white smiles, keen to show them to the world.
The interview continued, interwoven with flirtatious banter and winning grins. By the end, Ron felt as he if knew Gwen like a close friend would. She had seemed to agree with him on many of his answers, revealing some of her own opinions when they coincided with his own. Gwen was easy to talk to; something Ron figured you needed to have in order to be a reporter.
"Ron, I have just one more request for you."
"Shoot."
Gwen hugged her notebook to her chest as she spoke, "It's tradition for me to personally deliver the magazine or paper to the person I interview. I like to be there when they first read it, to hear what they like or didn't like. I want them to have a chance for a reprint."
"So I gather you need to know where I live?"
"I could always go by Floo, but I'd much prefer to apparate," she laughed.
"I still live at home, with my parents and most of my family. We live in Ottery St. Catchpole. You can't miss it. Big teetering house. We call it The Burrow."
Gwendolyn grinned at that. "I'll see you there in a couple of days. I'll send you an owl telling you when, is that all right?"
"That's perfectly all right."
She grinned, "It was great meeting you, Ron." Leaning forward, she gave him a dainty hug and he felt her kiss the air before his cheek. As they parted their separate ways, she yelled over her shoulder, "Hit the showers, slacker!" Ron could've seen her wink from a mile away, and it ran chills down his spine.