Better than a Champion
By Firenzie
A/N: Finally, finally, finally, a real Harry Potter fic! After nearly what...half a year? Longer, actually. Maybe even an entire year. Anyway, since seeing the 2nd trailer, I've totally gotten back into Harry Potter, lost my interest for Digimon (come on, season 02 was pathetic, and the epilogue was even worse), and now I think I'll just stick with HP. Since I last wrote an HP fic, I've dramatically changed my views on romance and couples (let's just say Draco/Hermione went from my least liked to my favorite, and Ron/Hermione and Harry/Hermione are about tied, I guess...and I may even like Draco/Harry!). So you get the point. Sorry to the H/H fans, but hey, that'll always be the couple I liked first and longest!
Well, some notes about the story: it takes place in book 4, before and during the First Task. Except this time it's from Ron's point of view. There are some parts I just wanted to leave out, but they were pretty necessary details, so I kept them in there. And just to warn any H/H fans out there, this is a R/H. Don't worry, I'll write a new H/H soon! (After my Petunia Dursley fic, my Neville fic, my D/H, and my Moaning Myrtle fic...) But...yeah. My only goal was to write a Harry Potter fic, period. Here you go.
Disclaimer: Let's make this brief and to the point -- who cares?
* * *
Ron Weasley woke up groggily, rolling off of his four-poster. He looked over at *his* bed, and was glad to see that the curtains were still draped around it. 'Good,' Ron thought resentfully. 'Maybe he'll be so tired from his little late night rendezvous last night that he'll sleep in and miss all our classes. Wonder what the hell he was doing anyway...' He brushed these thoughts from Harry out of his head, slipping into his too-small-for-him robes.
Just about to jam his hat onto his head, he noticed something odd about his reflection. Brushing a few stray, fiery red hairs away from his forehead to get a better look, he noticed a faint red mark where the 'POTTER REALLY STINKS' badge had hit him when Harry threw it.
He groaned, throwing a dirty look at Harry's bed. "Oh, you miserable git," he muttered under his breath, as if Harry could hear him; wishing that he could, but at the same time, glad that he couldn't. "I bet you'll just be jumping for joy that I'm not happy that I have this stupid spot on my forehead. 'Maybe you'll have a scar now...blah, blah, blah," he said in a mocking voice. He glanced at his forehead again and scowled. "Fantastic."
But Ron had to cope with it. He covered the mark with his hair and hat as best he could, and then went off to breakfast, not even bothering to wait for Seamus and Dean. He was in too much of a foul mood to want to even socialize with anyone. So when Hermione started walking alongside him, he tolerated it for a while, before suddenly stopping, turning to face her, and bursting out, "What do you want?"
Hermione's amiable attitude was thrown off by this less than charming greeting. She put her hands on her hips and stared at him. "Who woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?"
"I think I *slept* on the wrong side of the bed this morning."
"Well, if you know you're being a horrible grouch, then why even bother coming down to breakfast? To ruin more people's moods, perhaps? If you're not feeling happy, then everyone else should be brought down too, is it?" she asked icily.
Ron stared down at her, eye-to-eye, but he didn't say anything. With that, he walked briskly off to the Great Hall.
Hermione simply 'Humph!'-ed. "No wonder Harry's mad at him," she said to herself. "Who wouldn't be mad at him with an attitude like that?" Instead of joining Ron for breakfast, like she had planned, she sat down with Ginny. She caught Ron frequently throwing her dirty looks while she was eating, and it was to her relief that Harry showed up and asked her to walk with him. She finished her porridge quickly, and they left.
When Ron saw this, he clenched his fist tightly and took a big swig out of a goblet -- which he was too infuriated to realize was Lavender's and not his. Harry and Hermione could side with each other. He didn't care. They had always been such a bloody wonderful couple anyway. 'Harry is rarely seen out of the company of one Hermione Granger, a stunningly pretty Muggle-born girl who, like Harry, is one of the top students in the school,' he bitterly quoted to himself from Rita Skeeter's article. He, of course, knew it was untrue (Colin Creevy, Harry's close friend?), but at the present moment, he was too angry to care about minor details like that.
* * *
The day dragged by impossibly slowly for Ron. Without Harry and Hermione, his two best friends, he hung out with Seamus and Dean the whole time. Most of the time, Dean kept going on and on about soccer, which Ron still failed to see could be interesting. "One ball? Two goals? No flying? Bor-ING!" And because of constant remarks like that, Dean was soon irritated with Ron too.
Normally, he would have gone off with Fred and George to go hide dungbombs around the entrance to the Slytherin common room, but they were too busy sitting in a secluded of the corner of the common room, with a sheet of parchment and a quill, talking in hushed voices about something secret.
The only other option was to stay with Ginny and her 3rd year friends, including Colin and Dennis Creevy, while they chattered on and on about how Harry could definitely win the Triwizard Tournament; at the same time, attempting to fix the 'POTTER REALLY STINKS' badges.
So, left without anyone to go to or anything to do, Ron dragged himself up to his dormitory, collapsed onto his bed, and lay there on his back, staring up at nothing, and wondering how things in his life could be much worse.
* * *
It was finally Tuesday, the day of the First Task. Ron knew this was something he would most likely be ecstatic about in any other time, but given the situation, it wasn't. He ate his breakfast alone and very slowly, paid no attention in class (or rather, less than he usually did), and didn't really quite give a damn when midday would come and the task would begin.
His curiosity extended only to the fact of what crazy, impossible, life-threatening task the champions would have to perform. As for the safety of the champions, he hoped Fleur wouldn't be injured enough to damage her looks; Viktor was a great Quidditch player, and anything that prevented him from playing would be a crime; Cedric was all right, he supposed, even if he was particularly thick and had all the girls in school fawning over him; and as far as he knew (or chose to believe), those were the only champions.
When lunch ended, he walked over to the Quidditch field along with everyone else. It didn't matter where he sat, who he sat with, or anything at all. He just made sure he got a seat with a good view of everything. And boy, was he glad for that. Because at that moment, looking down at the field, he saw four humongous dragons. They were chained up and trying to be controlled by dozens of wizards. Spotting a bit of flaming red, Ron squinted and his thoughts were confirmed. That was his older brother Charlie down there. At least there was something good.
Suddenly, a shadow was cast over him, blocking the sun. He looked up and saw Hermione, ready in an instant to growl some insult at her, but she had an expression of truce on her face. "Can I sit here?" she asked him.
He merely shrugged.
Hermione's lips curved up in a weak smile, happy that he wasn't being hostile with her. But she decided she would wait until just the right time to try to speak to him, to apologize. Plus, she was too busy watching what was going on down below that thoughts of Ron disappeared, and worry for the champions, especially Harry, washed over her. And then, the first task began.
* * *
Hermione could not restrain herself from clutching her face and shrieking any time a jet of flames issued from a dragon's mouth. She was sitting on the edge of her seat, yet ready to bury her face in Ron's shoulder at any instant. They had come onto the level of rational speaking terms, too caught up with the excitement to even remember their little squabble the day before.
The crowd stared as Viktor Krum raised his wand and said a spell, aiming for the Chinese Fireball's eye. It worked. But the dragon starting trampling around in obvious pain, resulting in crushing some of its real eggs. Everyone gave a loud 'ooooh.'
"I don't suppose the judges will have liked that bit too much," Ron commented, eyeing Hermione, whose face was covered in little marks from her fingernails digging into her skin.
"Ooh, but he's almost got the golden egg -- oh dear," Hermione said, as the Fireball crushed yet another of its eggs. "I wonder if he'll be able to get the it before it's smashed too..."
But Krum got to the golden egg and the audience roared with applause and cheers.
"Well then," Hermione said, forcing herself to breathe evenly. "It's Harry's turn now..." But then she looked at the sour expression on Ron's face a little nervously and stopped.
But his face softened into a relaxed, but guilty and somewhat anxious look. "Oh, I was so stupid, wasn't I, Hermione?" he asked. "I was just jealous of Harry the entire time. But now that he's about to face a dragon -- that big black one with that spiky tail, I guess...I feel ridiculous now. I knew all along that he didn't enter; there was no way... I was a complete, *very jealous* idiot. Put me into a awful mood, didn't it? I'm sorry for taking some of that anger out on you."
Hermione's face broke out into a genuine smile. "Oh, Ron, don't worry about it -- LOOK!" she gasped.
Ron's head swiveled around to the field, as Harry walked onto it, amidst the cheers -- and equally as many jeers. But everyone instantly went quiet when he raised his wand and bellowed something that Ron and Hermione and everyone else heard as a miniscule "Accio Firebolt!"
"What the -- he's Summoning his broom?" Ron asked in disbelief, staring, eyes wide at the sky, waiting, hoping for Harry's Firebolt to come flying along.
"Yes," Hermione said uncertainly. "I've been helping him practice the spell for the past few days, but I don't know...we never tried anything from this far...I do hope it works, I wonder what he'll do if it doesn't -- oh, I can't afford to think about that..." she trailed off.
And then everyone heard a tiny whizzing noise. It became louder and louder until the broomstick was visible in the air. It went straight to Harry, who hesitated a second, and then mounted it, kicked off, and soared upwards. Everyone watched in amazement as Harry flew flawlessly on his broom, performing loops and dives at all the right moments, narrowly avoiding the Hungarian Horntail's flames from its mouth and its large, spiked tail that kept swatting around. He was hit once in the arm, and everyone winced. Ron and Hermione dared not speak, let alone even breathe, too caught up with the task. And at last, Harry made a dive and swerved out just in time, retrieving the golden egg with his uninjured arm.
The crowd went into a complete uproar. "Look at that! Will you look at that! Our youngest champion is quickest to get his egg! Well, this is going to shorten the odds on Mr. Potter!" Ludo Bagman yelled, as a bunch of professors; McGonagall, Hagrid, and Moody rushed forward to get to Harry. Hermione was still screaming out at the top of her lungs, and then, out of breath, she turned and gave Ron a suffocating hug.
"He did it," she repeated over and over, "Harry did it!"
For the first time in nearly weeks, Ron's lips went up into a smile; a real, honest smile. "I always knew Harry could pull it off," he lied, ignoring the looks Hermione, Seamus, Dean, and others were giving him.
"Well, I suppose they're taking him off to Madam Pomfrey -- ouch, look at his arm...but let's go, Ron! Maybe we can get to him before anyone else can." Hermione grabbed his wrist before he could say anything, and they hastened off, weaving their way quickly, yet carefully through the frenzied crowd.
But they weren't so lucky. Hermione and Ron bumped into Malfoy and his goons, Crabbe and Goyle. They looked unmistakably disappointed. "Pity he made it through," Malfoy was saying rather loudly, seeing that Harry's two best friends had just come along. "It would have been so wonderful if The Boy Who Lived -- died." Crabbe and Goyle sniggered, a few seconds too late.
"Very original," Hermione said sarcastically. "I suppose you made that up by yourself, Malfoy?"
At the same time, Ron said teasingly, "Don't talk too loudly about that, little ferret, Professor Moody could be close by..."
Malfoy's pale face flushed with humiliation as it always did when Professor Moody and Malfoy's experience as a ferret were mentioned. He beckoned to his bodyguards, and they set off in the opposite direction.
Ron and Hermione were laughing. "I've never seen him that sad before," Ron said, sniggering. "I love it!"
They finally made it out of the Quidditch stadium and over to the tent that served as the first aid tent. They dashed inside, eager to see Harry. Ron apologized to Harry; Hermione burst into tears at their stupidity, and then ran off. Ron told Harry what the other champions did to get the egg, Harry received his score, and the rest of the day went on especially quickly. Ron was glad he had apologized -- or at least, attempted to, before Harry cut him off. Everything was always nicer when they were friends again. After an exhilarating and exhausting day, the two boys traipsed up to Gryffindor Tower and fell back onto armchairs in the common room.
"Bugger," Harry said, wiping his forehead, "I've never been so drained of energy in my life --" Thoughts flashed of all the occasions where he ran into Voldemort or Tom Riddle or had any sort of other adventures in his past three years at Hogwarts. He added hastily, "--okay, I take that back, but anyway...I'm going up to the dorm to get some rest." And with that, he wobbled off up the stairs to the boys' dormitories.
Ron leaned back into the comfortable chair, closing his eyes, but still smiling.
"So, things are all patched up now between you and Harry?"
He blinked an eye open and looked at Hermione with a weary grin. "Yup."
"About time," she said. "It was stupid the way you fought --"
"It was all my fault --" Ron began, but at the instant, dozens of people came spilling into the common room, all talking and laughing and cheering excitedly about the First Task.
Hermione glanced over at Ron. "Want to go for a walk?" she asked.
He nodded, and they got up and, despite the difficulty of getting past the oncoming traffic, they made their way out of the portrait hole and down the corridors. Even in the hallways, there were swarms of people everywhere. So Hermione and Ron were silent until Ron pushed open the front door and they stepped outside.
"Finally," he said, relieved, "some peace and quiet."
They walked alongside the edge of the lake, vaguely looking out at the giant squid and the Durmstrang ship. Ron and Hermione spoke up at the exact same time.
"Hermione, I--"
"Ron, I--"
They chuckled. "No, you go first," they said, simultaneously again.
"No, you."
They burst into a fit of laughter. When it died down, Ron said, "No, really. You first."
"Okay, well, Ron...I -- I -- I --" she paused. "Ah, never mind, you go," she said, avoiding his eyes and speaking hastily.
"Um, all right..." he replied, obviously curious to know what Hermione had wanted to talk about and then suddenly became shy of. "Well, earlier, I had just been talking about how it was all my fault--"
"Oh, Ron, don't talk," Hermione said exasperatedly. "Even if it was all your fault, which it isn't entirely, there's absolutely no point in this self-blame thing. It's good you're not pointing fingers at anyone else, but we don't care who started it or anything anymore. I'm sure you have perfectly good reasons for feeling how you did, and we don't blame you a bit."
"I do have reasons..." he said slowly, but he didn't seem eager to divulge those reasons. Hermione glanced at him expectantly once, but sensing his feelings, so she looked away. Ron looked down at the grass they were walking on, nearly stumbling over his feet. Finally, he just stopped.
Hermione hadn't noticed and had kept walking. "If you don't want to talk about them, it's all righ -- Ron?" She turned around and saw him standing in the same spot, staring out blankly at the lake, its bluish black waters lapping at the shore. She walked back to him, trying to catch his eye. "Ron?" she asked softly.
He didn't seem to be paying attention to her; by the way he was looking, even though the words he spoke were directed at her. "Well, I don't suppose you've ever felt overshadowed, have you...?"
Hermione stared at him. "Are you kidding, Ron? Of course. Everyone's felt overshadowed at one point or another."
"But why should you?" he asked. He looked in her direction. "Highest marks probably in Hogwarts history...top of the class in every class -- top of the year, by a ton! How have you been overshadowed?"
"I -- I -- Ron, I'm not very much in a mood for talking... I'm sorry," she said timidly, "but...I've just got my mind on some other things right now..."
"So do I..."
Hermione looked up at him, and their eyes finally made contact. Hermione knew her cheeks had gone pink, and she hoped Ron hadn't noticed. "What sort of things?"
He was silent for a long time, obviously thinking carefully about what he was going to say. But it seemed he had drawn up a blank. "Just -- just about the whole overshadowing thing," he said, figuring he might as well get it off his chest already. "Like, I've grown up with five older brothers. They've already done everything special. Bill...Head Boy, and yet he was still so -- so cool and popular. Charlie -- the one everyone knew who was great with animals and fantastic at Quidditch... Percy, we all know was -- well, Percy. Perfect Percy, second Head Boy in the family, top grades, tons of N.E.W.T.S... And Fred and George, everyone likes them. They're hilarious, they're trouble-makers, they're completely opposite of all my brothers who got the good grades and stayed out of trouble, but even Dad holds some respect for them. And then there's Ginny...well, of course, she's the only girl, so I imagine she feels worse.
"But as for me...what do I have? I'm no good at schoolwork, I'm not in Quidditch, and I'm not special at anything... What will I be known as? Forever called Harry Potter's sidekick? Or will they even remember me? I mean, even hanging around Harry Potter, I don't contribute much. And suppose I do... Would Harry get all the credit anyway, no matter all my efforts?" He let out a tremendous sigh and hung his head.
Hermione looked at him sympathetically. She placed her hand on his shoulder and rested her chin on it. "Ron, that's terrible... I always knew you felt overshadowed like that, but I had never heard you talk about it before... And I hate to think that you feel that way, that you aren't special... But think about it. Of course you're special, Ron! I mean, even if you think you're not helping Harry at all, can you imagine how we'd be without you? Harry might've not even gotten onto the Hogwarts Express. I wouldn't have been his friend. We have no clue how to play chess, and what about you and McGonagall's giant chess set? Don't you tell me chess isn't a talent. Ron, you have so many amazing qualities, you just don't see..." she trailed off, looking up to meet his eyes again. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "But I see them..."
They hadn't realized it, but their faces had been inching closer and closer every second. Their eyes were closed; their lips were about to touch... And for one second, for one glorious second, they had kissed.
"Ron is that you -- oh!" someone gasped.
Ron and Hermione's eyes bulged out of their heads and they whipped around quickly, their faces blushing bright crimson furiously. "Ginny!" they cried out.
Ginny was looking shocked. "Oh, I had no idea... I'm so sorry, Ron, Hermione... I didn't mean to interrupt, really... It's just -- they were throwing a huge party in the common room, and Harry was wondering where you two went off to -- I went to get you, but I -- I -- I'm sorry," she said profusely, and then she dashed off back up to the castle.
Hermione and Ron didn't look at each other, and Hermione said rather shyly, "I suppose we should head up to the castle then..."
"Oh, well, yeah, I guess..." Ron agreed, but sounding completely unsure of himself.
They walked silently back up to the entrance, stopping at the doors before opening it. "Hermione," Ron said suddenly, "what happened back there?"
"I -- I dunno, something just came over me, you know..."
"Me too...will this ruin our friendship?" he asked, sounding downcast.
"Of course not. If anything, it'll make it stronger...I think...I hope nothing changes. I don't want us to feel weird just because of that -- that k-- that moment back there."
"Sounds like things already are weird. Suppose we should just forget--?"
She cut him off before he could finish the question she didn't want to hear. "No, Ron. We shouldn't forget that. In fact, never forget it." And she left it at that.
So Ron opened the door and they walked through, ceasing communication again. The only sounds were the faint noises of many people celebrating and the sounds of their feet as they walked. But it was a contemplative silence, not one of awkwardness. Ron was busy thinking about everything that had happened that day, how his fight with Harry was over, the kiss with Hermione... He felt something touch his hand, and at first, he jumped, surprised; but then he looked over at Hermione, who gave him a reassuring smile, and relaxed. They let their hands entwine as they kept walking.
He might have been feeling completely miserable just a day ago, but everything that had been flipped upside down was right side up now. A big party to celebrate seemed like a nice way to end things off. Hopefully, he thought, inwardly grinning at the thought, he and Hermione could continue the kiss they had started. That alone seemed to make all his problems go away.
Ron had thought, at first, that his greatest wish was to be able to compete in the Triwizard Tournament. But now that he and Harry were friends again, Hermione seemed to like him just as much as he liked her, and everything was right again in his life, he felt as if he couldn't have been happier, even if he was a Hogwarts Champion.
By Firenzie
A/N: Finally, finally, finally, a real Harry Potter fic! After nearly what...half a year? Longer, actually. Maybe even an entire year. Anyway, since seeing the 2nd trailer, I've totally gotten back into Harry Potter, lost my interest for Digimon (come on, season 02 was pathetic, and the epilogue was even worse), and now I think I'll just stick with HP. Since I last wrote an HP fic, I've dramatically changed my views on romance and couples (let's just say Draco/Hermione went from my least liked to my favorite, and Ron/Hermione and Harry/Hermione are about tied, I guess...and I may even like Draco/Harry!). So you get the point. Sorry to the H/H fans, but hey, that'll always be the couple I liked first and longest!
Well, some notes about the story: it takes place in book 4, before and during the First Task. Except this time it's from Ron's point of view. There are some parts I just wanted to leave out, but they were pretty necessary details, so I kept them in there. And just to warn any H/H fans out there, this is a R/H. Don't worry, I'll write a new H/H soon! (After my Petunia Dursley fic, my Neville fic, my D/H, and my Moaning Myrtle fic...) But...yeah. My only goal was to write a Harry Potter fic, period. Here you go.
Disclaimer: Let's make this brief and to the point -- who cares?
* * *
Ron Weasley woke up groggily, rolling off of his four-poster. He looked over at *his* bed, and was glad to see that the curtains were still draped around it. 'Good,' Ron thought resentfully. 'Maybe he'll be so tired from his little late night rendezvous last night that he'll sleep in and miss all our classes. Wonder what the hell he was doing anyway...' He brushed these thoughts from Harry out of his head, slipping into his too-small-for-him robes.
Just about to jam his hat onto his head, he noticed something odd about his reflection. Brushing a few stray, fiery red hairs away from his forehead to get a better look, he noticed a faint red mark where the 'POTTER REALLY STINKS' badge had hit him when Harry threw it.
He groaned, throwing a dirty look at Harry's bed. "Oh, you miserable git," he muttered under his breath, as if Harry could hear him; wishing that he could, but at the same time, glad that he couldn't. "I bet you'll just be jumping for joy that I'm not happy that I have this stupid spot on my forehead. 'Maybe you'll have a scar now...blah, blah, blah," he said in a mocking voice. He glanced at his forehead again and scowled. "Fantastic."
But Ron had to cope with it. He covered the mark with his hair and hat as best he could, and then went off to breakfast, not even bothering to wait for Seamus and Dean. He was in too much of a foul mood to want to even socialize with anyone. So when Hermione started walking alongside him, he tolerated it for a while, before suddenly stopping, turning to face her, and bursting out, "What do you want?"
Hermione's amiable attitude was thrown off by this less than charming greeting. She put her hands on her hips and stared at him. "Who woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?"
"I think I *slept* on the wrong side of the bed this morning."
"Well, if you know you're being a horrible grouch, then why even bother coming down to breakfast? To ruin more people's moods, perhaps? If you're not feeling happy, then everyone else should be brought down too, is it?" she asked icily.
Ron stared down at her, eye-to-eye, but he didn't say anything. With that, he walked briskly off to the Great Hall.
Hermione simply 'Humph!'-ed. "No wonder Harry's mad at him," she said to herself. "Who wouldn't be mad at him with an attitude like that?" Instead of joining Ron for breakfast, like she had planned, she sat down with Ginny. She caught Ron frequently throwing her dirty looks while she was eating, and it was to her relief that Harry showed up and asked her to walk with him. She finished her porridge quickly, and they left.
When Ron saw this, he clenched his fist tightly and took a big swig out of a goblet -- which he was too infuriated to realize was Lavender's and not his. Harry and Hermione could side with each other. He didn't care. They had always been such a bloody wonderful couple anyway. 'Harry is rarely seen out of the company of one Hermione Granger, a stunningly pretty Muggle-born girl who, like Harry, is one of the top students in the school,' he bitterly quoted to himself from Rita Skeeter's article. He, of course, knew it was untrue (Colin Creevy, Harry's close friend?), but at the present moment, he was too angry to care about minor details like that.
* * *
The day dragged by impossibly slowly for Ron. Without Harry and Hermione, his two best friends, he hung out with Seamus and Dean the whole time. Most of the time, Dean kept going on and on about soccer, which Ron still failed to see could be interesting. "One ball? Two goals? No flying? Bor-ING!" And because of constant remarks like that, Dean was soon irritated with Ron too.
Normally, he would have gone off with Fred and George to go hide dungbombs around the entrance to the Slytherin common room, but they were too busy sitting in a secluded of the corner of the common room, with a sheet of parchment and a quill, talking in hushed voices about something secret.
The only other option was to stay with Ginny and her 3rd year friends, including Colin and Dennis Creevy, while they chattered on and on about how Harry could definitely win the Triwizard Tournament; at the same time, attempting to fix the 'POTTER REALLY STINKS' badges.
So, left without anyone to go to or anything to do, Ron dragged himself up to his dormitory, collapsed onto his bed, and lay there on his back, staring up at nothing, and wondering how things in his life could be much worse.
* * *
It was finally Tuesday, the day of the First Task. Ron knew this was something he would most likely be ecstatic about in any other time, but given the situation, it wasn't. He ate his breakfast alone and very slowly, paid no attention in class (or rather, less than he usually did), and didn't really quite give a damn when midday would come and the task would begin.
His curiosity extended only to the fact of what crazy, impossible, life-threatening task the champions would have to perform. As for the safety of the champions, he hoped Fleur wouldn't be injured enough to damage her looks; Viktor was a great Quidditch player, and anything that prevented him from playing would be a crime; Cedric was all right, he supposed, even if he was particularly thick and had all the girls in school fawning over him; and as far as he knew (or chose to believe), those were the only champions.
When lunch ended, he walked over to the Quidditch field along with everyone else. It didn't matter where he sat, who he sat with, or anything at all. He just made sure he got a seat with a good view of everything. And boy, was he glad for that. Because at that moment, looking down at the field, he saw four humongous dragons. They were chained up and trying to be controlled by dozens of wizards. Spotting a bit of flaming red, Ron squinted and his thoughts were confirmed. That was his older brother Charlie down there. At least there was something good.
Suddenly, a shadow was cast over him, blocking the sun. He looked up and saw Hermione, ready in an instant to growl some insult at her, but she had an expression of truce on her face. "Can I sit here?" she asked him.
He merely shrugged.
Hermione's lips curved up in a weak smile, happy that he wasn't being hostile with her. But she decided she would wait until just the right time to try to speak to him, to apologize. Plus, she was too busy watching what was going on down below that thoughts of Ron disappeared, and worry for the champions, especially Harry, washed over her. And then, the first task began.
* * *
Hermione could not restrain herself from clutching her face and shrieking any time a jet of flames issued from a dragon's mouth. She was sitting on the edge of her seat, yet ready to bury her face in Ron's shoulder at any instant. They had come onto the level of rational speaking terms, too caught up with the excitement to even remember their little squabble the day before.
The crowd stared as Viktor Krum raised his wand and said a spell, aiming for the Chinese Fireball's eye. It worked. But the dragon starting trampling around in obvious pain, resulting in crushing some of its real eggs. Everyone gave a loud 'ooooh.'
"I don't suppose the judges will have liked that bit too much," Ron commented, eyeing Hermione, whose face was covered in little marks from her fingernails digging into her skin.
"Ooh, but he's almost got the golden egg -- oh dear," Hermione said, as the Fireball crushed yet another of its eggs. "I wonder if he'll be able to get the it before it's smashed too..."
But Krum got to the golden egg and the audience roared with applause and cheers.
"Well then," Hermione said, forcing herself to breathe evenly. "It's Harry's turn now..." But then she looked at the sour expression on Ron's face a little nervously and stopped.
But his face softened into a relaxed, but guilty and somewhat anxious look. "Oh, I was so stupid, wasn't I, Hermione?" he asked. "I was just jealous of Harry the entire time. But now that he's about to face a dragon -- that big black one with that spiky tail, I guess...I feel ridiculous now. I knew all along that he didn't enter; there was no way... I was a complete, *very jealous* idiot. Put me into a awful mood, didn't it? I'm sorry for taking some of that anger out on you."
Hermione's face broke out into a genuine smile. "Oh, Ron, don't worry about it -- LOOK!" she gasped.
Ron's head swiveled around to the field, as Harry walked onto it, amidst the cheers -- and equally as many jeers. But everyone instantly went quiet when he raised his wand and bellowed something that Ron and Hermione and everyone else heard as a miniscule "Accio Firebolt!"
"What the -- he's Summoning his broom?" Ron asked in disbelief, staring, eyes wide at the sky, waiting, hoping for Harry's Firebolt to come flying along.
"Yes," Hermione said uncertainly. "I've been helping him practice the spell for the past few days, but I don't know...we never tried anything from this far...I do hope it works, I wonder what he'll do if it doesn't -- oh, I can't afford to think about that..." she trailed off.
And then everyone heard a tiny whizzing noise. It became louder and louder until the broomstick was visible in the air. It went straight to Harry, who hesitated a second, and then mounted it, kicked off, and soared upwards. Everyone watched in amazement as Harry flew flawlessly on his broom, performing loops and dives at all the right moments, narrowly avoiding the Hungarian Horntail's flames from its mouth and its large, spiked tail that kept swatting around. He was hit once in the arm, and everyone winced. Ron and Hermione dared not speak, let alone even breathe, too caught up with the task. And at last, Harry made a dive and swerved out just in time, retrieving the golden egg with his uninjured arm.
The crowd went into a complete uproar. "Look at that! Will you look at that! Our youngest champion is quickest to get his egg! Well, this is going to shorten the odds on Mr. Potter!" Ludo Bagman yelled, as a bunch of professors; McGonagall, Hagrid, and Moody rushed forward to get to Harry. Hermione was still screaming out at the top of her lungs, and then, out of breath, she turned and gave Ron a suffocating hug.
"He did it," she repeated over and over, "Harry did it!"
For the first time in nearly weeks, Ron's lips went up into a smile; a real, honest smile. "I always knew Harry could pull it off," he lied, ignoring the looks Hermione, Seamus, Dean, and others were giving him.
"Well, I suppose they're taking him off to Madam Pomfrey -- ouch, look at his arm...but let's go, Ron! Maybe we can get to him before anyone else can." Hermione grabbed his wrist before he could say anything, and they hastened off, weaving their way quickly, yet carefully through the frenzied crowd.
But they weren't so lucky. Hermione and Ron bumped into Malfoy and his goons, Crabbe and Goyle. They looked unmistakably disappointed. "Pity he made it through," Malfoy was saying rather loudly, seeing that Harry's two best friends had just come along. "It would have been so wonderful if The Boy Who Lived -- died." Crabbe and Goyle sniggered, a few seconds too late.
"Very original," Hermione said sarcastically. "I suppose you made that up by yourself, Malfoy?"
At the same time, Ron said teasingly, "Don't talk too loudly about that, little ferret, Professor Moody could be close by..."
Malfoy's pale face flushed with humiliation as it always did when Professor Moody and Malfoy's experience as a ferret were mentioned. He beckoned to his bodyguards, and they set off in the opposite direction.
Ron and Hermione were laughing. "I've never seen him that sad before," Ron said, sniggering. "I love it!"
They finally made it out of the Quidditch stadium and over to the tent that served as the first aid tent. They dashed inside, eager to see Harry. Ron apologized to Harry; Hermione burst into tears at their stupidity, and then ran off. Ron told Harry what the other champions did to get the egg, Harry received his score, and the rest of the day went on especially quickly. Ron was glad he had apologized -- or at least, attempted to, before Harry cut him off. Everything was always nicer when they were friends again. After an exhilarating and exhausting day, the two boys traipsed up to Gryffindor Tower and fell back onto armchairs in the common room.
"Bugger," Harry said, wiping his forehead, "I've never been so drained of energy in my life --" Thoughts flashed of all the occasions where he ran into Voldemort or Tom Riddle or had any sort of other adventures in his past three years at Hogwarts. He added hastily, "--okay, I take that back, but anyway...I'm going up to the dorm to get some rest." And with that, he wobbled off up the stairs to the boys' dormitories.
Ron leaned back into the comfortable chair, closing his eyes, but still smiling.
"So, things are all patched up now between you and Harry?"
He blinked an eye open and looked at Hermione with a weary grin. "Yup."
"About time," she said. "It was stupid the way you fought --"
"It was all my fault --" Ron began, but at the instant, dozens of people came spilling into the common room, all talking and laughing and cheering excitedly about the First Task.
Hermione glanced over at Ron. "Want to go for a walk?" she asked.
He nodded, and they got up and, despite the difficulty of getting past the oncoming traffic, they made their way out of the portrait hole and down the corridors. Even in the hallways, there were swarms of people everywhere. So Hermione and Ron were silent until Ron pushed open the front door and they stepped outside.
"Finally," he said, relieved, "some peace and quiet."
They walked alongside the edge of the lake, vaguely looking out at the giant squid and the Durmstrang ship. Ron and Hermione spoke up at the exact same time.
"Hermione, I--"
"Ron, I--"
They chuckled. "No, you go first," they said, simultaneously again.
"No, you."
They burst into a fit of laughter. When it died down, Ron said, "No, really. You first."
"Okay, well, Ron...I -- I -- I --" she paused. "Ah, never mind, you go," she said, avoiding his eyes and speaking hastily.
"Um, all right..." he replied, obviously curious to know what Hermione had wanted to talk about and then suddenly became shy of. "Well, earlier, I had just been talking about how it was all my fault--"
"Oh, Ron, don't talk," Hermione said exasperatedly. "Even if it was all your fault, which it isn't entirely, there's absolutely no point in this self-blame thing. It's good you're not pointing fingers at anyone else, but we don't care who started it or anything anymore. I'm sure you have perfectly good reasons for feeling how you did, and we don't blame you a bit."
"I do have reasons..." he said slowly, but he didn't seem eager to divulge those reasons. Hermione glanced at him expectantly once, but sensing his feelings, so she looked away. Ron looked down at the grass they were walking on, nearly stumbling over his feet. Finally, he just stopped.
Hermione hadn't noticed and had kept walking. "If you don't want to talk about them, it's all righ -- Ron?" She turned around and saw him standing in the same spot, staring out blankly at the lake, its bluish black waters lapping at the shore. She walked back to him, trying to catch his eye. "Ron?" she asked softly.
He didn't seem to be paying attention to her; by the way he was looking, even though the words he spoke were directed at her. "Well, I don't suppose you've ever felt overshadowed, have you...?"
Hermione stared at him. "Are you kidding, Ron? Of course. Everyone's felt overshadowed at one point or another."
"But why should you?" he asked. He looked in her direction. "Highest marks probably in Hogwarts history...top of the class in every class -- top of the year, by a ton! How have you been overshadowed?"
"I -- I -- Ron, I'm not very much in a mood for talking... I'm sorry," she said timidly, "but...I've just got my mind on some other things right now..."
"So do I..."
Hermione looked up at him, and their eyes finally made contact. Hermione knew her cheeks had gone pink, and she hoped Ron hadn't noticed. "What sort of things?"
He was silent for a long time, obviously thinking carefully about what he was going to say. But it seemed he had drawn up a blank. "Just -- just about the whole overshadowing thing," he said, figuring he might as well get it off his chest already. "Like, I've grown up with five older brothers. They've already done everything special. Bill...Head Boy, and yet he was still so -- so cool and popular. Charlie -- the one everyone knew who was great with animals and fantastic at Quidditch... Percy, we all know was -- well, Percy. Perfect Percy, second Head Boy in the family, top grades, tons of N.E.W.T.S... And Fred and George, everyone likes them. They're hilarious, they're trouble-makers, they're completely opposite of all my brothers who got the good grades and stayed out of trouble, but even Dad holds some respect for them. And then there's Ginny...well, of course, she's the only girl, so I imagine she feels worse.
"But as for me...what do I have? I'm no good at schoolwork, I'm not in Quidditch, and I'm not special at anything... What will I be known as? Forever called Harry Potter's sidekick? Or will they even remember me? I mean, even hanging around Harry Potter, I don't contribute much. And suppose I do... Would Harry get all the credit anyway, no matter all my efforts?" He let out a tremendous sigh and hung his head.
Hermione looked at him sympathetically. She placed her hand on his shoulder and rested her chin on it. "Ron, that's terrible... I always knew you felt overshadowed like that, but I had never heard you talk about it before... And I hate to think that you feel that way, that you aren't special... But think about it. Of course you're special, Ron! I mean, even if you think you're not helping Harry at all, can you imagine how we'd be without you? Harry might've not even gotten onto the Hogwarts Express. I wouldn't have been his friend. We have no clue how to play chess, and what about you and McGonagall's giant chess set? Don't you tell me chess isn't a talent. Ron, you have so many amazing qualities, you just don't see..." she trailed off, looking up to meet his eyes again. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "But I see them..."
They hadn't realized it, but their faces had been inching closer and closer every second. Their eyes were closed; their lips were about to touch... And for one second, for one glorious second, they had kissed.
"Ron is that you -- oh!" someone gasped.
Ron and Hermione's eyes bulged out of their heads and they whipped around quickly, their faces blushing bright crimson furiously. "Ginny!" they cried out.
Ginny was looking shocked. "Oh, I had no idea... I'm so sorry, Ron, Hermione... I didn't mean to interrupt, really... It's just -- they were throwing a huge party in the common room, and Harry was wondering where you two went off to -- I went to get you, but I -- I -- I'm sorry," she said profusely, and then she dashed off back up to the castle.
Hermione and Ron didn't look at each other, and Hermione said rather shyly, "I suppose we should head up to the castle then..."
"Oh, well, yeah, I guess..." Ron agreed, but sounding completely unsure of himself.
They walked silently back up to the entrance, stopping at the doors before opening it. "Hermione," Ron said suddenly, "what happened back there?"
"I -- I dunno, something just came over me, you know..."
"Me too...will this ruin our friendship?" he asked, sounding downcast.
"Of course not. If anything, it'll make it stronger...I think...I hope nothing changes. I don't want us to feel weird just because of that -- that k-- that moment back there."
"Sounds like things already are weird. Suppose we should just forget--?"
She cut him off before he could finish the question she didn't want to hear. "No, Ron. We shouldn't forget that. In fact, never forget it." And she left it at that.
So Ron opened the door and they walked through, ceasing communication again. The only sounds were the faint noises of many people celebrating and the sounds of their feet as they walked. But it was a contemplative silence, not one of awkwardness. Ron was busy thinking about everything that had happened that day, how his fight with Harry was over, the kiss with Hermione... He felt something touch his hand, and at first, he jumped, surprised; but then he looked over at Hermione, who gave him a reassuring smile, and relaxed. They let their hands entwine as they kept walking.
He might have been feeling completely miserable just a day ago, but everything that had been flipped upside down was right side up now. A big party to celebrate seemed like a nice way to end things off. Hopefully, he thought, inwardly grinning at the thought, he and Hermione could continue the kiss they had started. That alone seemed to make all his problems go away.
Ron had thought, at first, that his greatest wish was to be able to compete in the Triwizard Tournament. But now that he and Harry were friends again, Hermione seemed to like him just as much as he liked her, and everything was right again in his life, he felt as if he couldn't have been happier, even if he was a Hogwarts Champion.