Ron's a Keeper
The night of Ron's Keeper celebration in OotP: a few sweet, sweet R/Hr moments'.
This is a short one shot I wrote between A Second for luck and George Explains It All.
Extracts are taken from: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Detention with Dolores, p249-250.
I've stepped through the mirror of erised Ron thought as he climbed through the portrait hole. It was the only explanation for these crazy few days. First, he became Prefect. Second, he'd developed the ability to purposely flirt with Hermione. This was the final confirmation: he was Gryffindor's new Quidditch keeper.
His racing heart stopped for a moment. There she was looking nervous. Her lip was swollen from chewing it, her hair was wilder for studying and her eyes were happy to see him.
'Well,' she said, wandering over to him, with the sexist walk he'd ever seen in his life. Ron just grinned. She hurried over to him, giving him a congratulatory hug.
'Oh Ron,' she said breathlessly, squeezing him harder, 'that's wonderful! You're wonderful. Harry will be so pleased.'
'I don't care what Harry thinks now,' he admitted without thinking, 'are you really pleased?'
'Of course I am,' she responded and without thinking, he spun her round. They both laughed until they noticed the attracted an audience. As soon as the party started, Hermione followed him round; beaming with pride wherever they went. It wasn't until the twins interrupted them, that she left his side.
'So,' Fred said beaming, 'as ordered, a party for Ron.'
'I didn't order you,' Hermione said him straight in the eye; she turned and looked at Ron. 'I didn't order them.' Ron grinned and Hermione smiled back before lead the twins off. They sat on the sofa together, surrounded by the woollen bladders that she called hats. Ron got distracted by some well wishers but when his gaze returned to her she was sipping a butterbeer.
'Harry, I did it, I'm in, I'm Keeper!' Ron shouted over the roar of the party.
'What? Oh - brilliant!' said Harry, smiling a little unnaturally. Ron realised that he was tired and in pain from his detention.
'Have a Butterbeer,' Ron said, pressing a cool bottle on him. 'I can't believe it –' he admitted relying to keep the conversation light, 'where's Hermione gone?'
'She's there,' said Fred, who was also swigging Butterbeer, and pointed to an armchair by the fire. Hermione was dozing in it, her drink tipping precariously in her hand. To Ron, she looked adorable; but he couldn't very well say that his best friend looked really cute there. His life really was ridicules.
'Well, she said she was pleased when I told her,' said Ron, feeling slightly put out. He knew that this was nothing to do with him, but still... he was glad when the girls brought over his quidditch robes to try on. Harry spoke to Angelina then went over to see Hermione. From the corner of his eye, he monitored Harry and Hermione's conversation.
Harry left Hermione alone and her expression went from gleeful to hurt in a heartbeat. He didn't like that look. Weaving through the jubilant crowd; Ron went to her side.
'Why didn't you tell me,' she asked sounding hurt. 'I noticed his hand as he left... that horrible, sadistic cow!'
'I only found out last night and he wanted to tell you,' he explained feeling guilty. Hermione nodded in understanding.
'He needs to tell Dumbledore,' she said blandly.
'Yeah,' Ron agreed, 'he definitely needs to do that.' Finally, she turned and looked at him.
'Wow,' she exclaimed gleeful again, as she looked him up and down.
'Wow what?' Ron said looking around quizzed.
'You're the Gryffindor Quidditch Keeper,' Hermione smiled. 'You said you would be, during out first Hogsmeade trip. And here you are,' she said with a yawn.
'Yeah well,' he said running his fingers through his hair; feeling really embarrassed. 'You should go to bed, you know.'
'Yeah,' she agreed, 'night then.'
This was turning into a brilliant party: Ron reflected as he downed another butterbeer. But something wasn't right. There were frist years looking sick, and one seemed to be spitting up feathers. What was more,George looked far too happy, Ron thought as he wandered over towards the twins.
'Good thing Hermione fell asleep,' he caught Fred say.
'Why thank you,' George beamed, shining his nails on his shoulder.
'What did you do,' Fred asked his twin thunderstruck.
'Well, she deserved it for pulling the 'I'll tell your mother card'!'
'You spiked my girlfriend's drink!' Ron seethed towering over them. His ears were red; his two fists were white. Suddenly, he wasn't Ronniekin's; he was a man standing up for his girl. Harry and Hermione had gone to bed; they were helpless. Both scared: it was like when Dad got angry.
'He spiked it!' Fred protested pointing the finger at his twin. 'I would never do that to your girlfriend!'
'It was your idea!' George countered trying to look innocent. 'I would never think of hurting your girlfriend!'
'You know she's not my girlfriend, girlfriend!' Ron spat at them still furious. 'She's my friend that's a girl...' He reasoned. 'But that's not important...' He loomed over them and growling in a low dangerous voice warned: 'Hermione's off limits,' he looked between them. 'Don't prank her, don't even try... Do it again and you'll be a whole lot of sorry... Got it?'
'Yes Ron,' they meekly chorused before making their way to beds.
This is why Ron is a keeper. A story id kind of a prelude to A Second for Luck but it was from wrong perspective.
Moment's referred to in: Time of Their Life.
