AUTHOR'S NOTE: Some of the incidents mentioned in this story are taken from my fanfic "The Puck Drops Here," which features my OC Jimmy O'Bannon.
I wish it would end.
Ron Weasley slouched in his seat as he stared at the maze of tall hedges that ran across the Quidditch pitch. In just one week, his Fourth Year at Hogwarts would be over.
Seven days too long for his taste. If only a spell existed to allow him to speed up time, to have the last day of school arrive right now, to be seated in the Hogwarts Express heading home, putting this whole year behind him.
Without a doubt, his Fourth Year was the absolute worst.
Ron cast his eyes to his hands, clenched together on his lap.
Jealousy surged through him. He gritted his teeth, trying to fight it down.
He failed.
I don't believe this. He thought he'd licked this ages ago. He'd let these feelings consume him in the weeks leading up to the first task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament.
Why shouldn't I have been jealous? Hadn't he wanted to find a way to enter the Tournament? To be remembered as a champion? To win those thousand Galleons? To do something on his own?
But no. Why should those things happen to Ron Weasley? Once again it was Harry who stood in the limelight, while he remained in his best mate's shadow.
That's all I ever am. Harry Potter's best mate. Probably people out there wondering if I have a name of my own.
The corners of Ron's mouth tightened. He didn't want to feel this way. He didn't want to go back to being the moody git who barely talked to Harry for weeks. But sometimes, he couldn't help it. Even knowing how dangerous this tournament could be, jealousy returned, his unwelcome yet constant companion. Why couldn't it be him who came away the hero of the day instead of Harry? Just one time. Was that so bloody much to ask for?
It is if you're Ron Weasley.
He didn't care if the Tri-Wizard Tournament was one of the most esteemed competitions in the Wizarding World. Ron wished it had never come here. Then he wouldn't have to feel so jealous. He wouldn't have gone weeks wishing he'd never met Harry Potter.
And he wouldn't have had to go to the damn stupid Yule Ball.
Ron scowled. He couldn't remember a more miserable night in his life. Bad enough he had those horrid hand-me-down dress robes Mum sent him, but there had been his date, Padma Patil. He barely knew the girl. He hadn't even asked her out. No, Merlin forbid Ron Weasley should get his own date. The only reason she'd gone with him was because her twin sister, Parvati, went with Harry.
Oh, let me offer up my sister for your best mate so he doesn't feel left out.
And what a wonderful time they had. How many times had Padma bugged him to dance? Like he'd been in the mood to dance. Like he'd been in the mood to even be at the stupid Yule Ball.
Ron remembered thinking at the time that things had to get better. There was no way his Fourth Year could get worse.
Unfortunately, it did.
He glanced down the row, to the brown-haired athletic young man conversing with Fred and George.
Never in his life did Ron think he'd play a Muggle sport. He'd always been the one who couldn't understand why his roommate, Dean Thomas, loved that suker game so much. Then American exchange student Jimmy O'Bannon introduced hockey to Hogwarts.
At first, Ron had no desire to play. That, of course, gave Fred and George the chance to take the mickey out of him.
"We wouldn't want to see you falling on your arse every other minute," Fred had joked.
"And that's with a Non-slipping Charm," George had quipped.
Ron decided to show them. He started coming out to the hockey club's pick-up games. To his surprise, he actually enjoyed it. Zipping across the ice was about the closest thing to flying you could get without a broom.
Plus, he become rather good at this game. Imagine that. Ron Weasley, actually good at something.
He should have known it wouldn't last.
After Draco Malfoy melted the ice from under them during one of the club's pick-up games, O'Bannon managed to goad the Slytherin wanker into facing them in a hockey game. The chance to take Slytherin House down a few pegs brought out dozens of students from the other three houses, as well as representatives from the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang contingents. In the end, only twenty-two would be selected for the team that would later be known as the Triad.
But did Ron rise to the occasion? Of course not. He had felt no real pressure in the pick-up games, other than wanting to show up Fred and George. Competing against so many others who wanted a piece of Malfoy's dung-sucking Slytherins, Ron did what he always did in those situations.
He fell to pieces.
A glimmer of hope had existed, though. O'Bannon had named Fred and George alternate captains. Surely they'd put in a good word. Surely he wouldn't be the only Weasley at Hogwarts left off the team.
But he was. He watched from the stands that day as Fred, George and Ginny helped the Triad defeat Slytherin. The entire team became something of a legend. The first Muggle sport ever played at Hogwarts. Their team picture would forever hang in the Trophy Room.
And Ron Weasley wouldn't be part of it.
"They've been in there for a while now."
His muscles knotted when he heard the voice. He couldn't put his finger on it, but for some reason all the other crap he'd gone through this year paled in comparison to what had happened between him and the owner of that voice.
He swallowed and glanced at the bushy haired girl sitting next to him.
Hermione.
Ron sighed softly. To his dismay, the image of that muscle-laden lunkhead Viktor Krum materialized in his mind.
What can she possibly see in him? He is definitely not her type.
But they'd gone to the Yule Ball together. Hell, Hermione couldn't stop talking about how wonderful and thoughtful and honorable Vicky the bloody effing Magnificent was.
Ron clenched a fist, remembering them dancing at the Yule Ball, how Hermione positively beamed around him. His imagination tortured him more when it conjured an image of Viktor and Hermione snogging.
The urge to yell and kick something overwhelmed him.
Why the hell is this bothering you so much? It wasn't like he and Hermione would ever . . .
They couldn't. They were friends. They rowed half the time. She would wind up with someone smart and successful, not someone like him.
Anger roiled in the pit of his stomach.
Enough already. No use getting angry over this. You can't do anything about it.
The anger continued to build.
Ron slouched further in his seat. Why couldn't this year just end right now?
And I'm sure next year will be loads better.
"Ron, for goodness sake. Sit up straight."
He turned to Hermione, who wore a stern look. He couldn't count the number of times he seen that expression directed at him. He hated it.
No, actually, he didn't. It was weird, but when Hermione furrowed her brow like that, when her eyes slightly narrowed like that, she looked rather . . .
A rush of wind shattered his thoughts. Ron whipped his head to the pitch. His eyes widened when he saw Harry kneeling on the ground, clutching the Tri-Wizard Cup and the prone body of Cedric Diggory.
He won. He actually bloody won.
The entire Gryffindor section stood and cheered. Ron rose to his feet. Even as he applauded, jealousy flowed through him. More fame for Harry. Once again, he'd get shunted to the sidelines. People would come up to him and ask him question after question about Harry. He knew not once would they ask a question about him. Who gave a damn about Ron Weasley after all?
"Ron." Hermione tugged on his arm. "I think something's wrong?"
Ron canted his head. Professor Dumbledore and Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge stood over Harry and Cedric. Ron noticed that Cedric still hadn't moved. What could be wrong with him?
"He's dead!" someone shouted. "Diggory's dead!"
Shock slammed into Ron, paralyzing him. Diggory dead? Cedric Diggory dead? That couldn't be. They had to be wrong.
Gasps and screams and sobs swirled over the pitch. Ron leaned forward, focused on Diggory's still form. The boys' parents hurried toward him while Mad-Eye Moody escorted Harry off the pitch.
Mr. and Mrs. Diggory fell beside their son, wailing. Ron's head slowly rotated from the Diggorys to Harry. He looked so pale. Merlin's beard, was he trembling?
Ron turned back to the maze. What the hell happened in there?
He caught Hermione out the corner of his eye. She had her hands to her mouth, trying to muffle her sobs. Tears rolled down her cheeks.
Ron put an arm around her. She turned into him and cried in his chest. He continued to gaze out at the mob that formed around Diggory's body. He then scanned for Harry, but he was gone.
Ron prayed his friend was all right.
XXXXX
Ron stood beside the bed in the Hospital Wing, staring down at Harry. He appeared to be sleeping peacefully after Madam Pomfrey gave him a potion for a dreamless sleep. Neither Harry nor Dumbledore mentioned what had happened in the maze, and the headmaster made it clear he didn't want anyone questioning Harry about it until he was ready to talk.
All Ron had to go on was rumors. Several in the crowd whispered about You-Know-Who returning. Ron shivered. Had the most evil wizard ever really returned? Did he kill Cedric? Did Harry actually face him?
He stared into his friend's face. He thought back to the jealousy that had sank its dark fangs into him throughout the year, and all that time in the stands wallowing in self-pity and misery.
How could he keep going on about how wretched his Fourth Year was? So he had a miserable time at the Yule Ball. So he didn't play for some stupid hockey team. So Hermione fancied Viktor Krum. Could any of that compare with watching a fellow student die? Could it compare in the slightest with, if the rumors were true, facing You-Know-Who himself?
Ron chewed on the inside of his cheek. Harry never asked for any of this to happen to him. The occasional jealousy aside, Ron knew Harry well enough to know he would be perfectly content with being just an ordinary wizard.
Ron also knew something else. Harry certainly deserved a better friend than him.
Then that's what he'll get. He pledged, right there and then, to stop being envious of anything Harry did. Whatever Harry wanted him to do, he'd do it. Didn't he owe him a hundred times over anyway? How many times over the past four years could Harry have simply given him the boot? Considering the way he often acted, Ron definitely would have deserved it.
But Harry stuck by him. How many others at Hogwarts would have shown him that sort of loyalty?
Mum started to usher them away from Harry's bed so he could get some rest. He sensed more than saw Bill, Hermione and Sirius in dog form depart. Ron took a step back, then stopped. He leaned forward and gave Harry a gentle pat on the shoulder.
"I'll see you when you wake up, mate."
- THE END -