A/N- I don't think I could ever give enough apologies for the long wait between chapters. Life happened, but my worst and most terrible excuse is that it turns out it's harder to write a Quidditch match than I thought it would be! As somebody decidedly not sports minded, it took a few tries to get into the right headspace.
Thank you to everyone for the kind reviews, and I hope you enjoy this latest chapter! I'll pop back in at the end for a little info about the next one.
As always, I am not JKR, but very grateful to play around with these characters who do not belong to me in any way, shape or form.
If someone had told him roots had shot down from his legs and burrowed into the ground, he wouldn't have been surprised. Spellotape, glue, a particularly bad sticking jinx, didn't matter. All of those made more sense to him than admitting to himself what had just happened.
Did she mean to kiss me?
The thought ricocheted around his brain like a bludger. Knocking into every neuron as he tried to process his reaction. He'd felt it. Could still feel it in fact, the brand her lips had made on his mouth. Why hadn't he turned his head further?
But she had to have meant to do something. She was on her bloody tiptoes. So all he had to do was turn a little more and catch her lips more fully…
A sudden gust of wind caught her curls in the distance. They snarled in all directions as she lifted a hand to try and tame them down. He hadn't managed to draw his gaze away from her retreating figure. Nor could he make his legs move towards the changeroom. Part of him didn't want to. He wanted to stay right there for the rest of his life, basking in the glory that was Hermione Granger's lips on his for the briefest of moments. Even if it had been accidental.
As he watched her disappear into the stands, he noticed with a start that she'd chosen the stands due east. Closest to the rings. Closest to him. The thought made him warm. Her choosing to be there meant a lot to him. If she was as close to the action as she could get he would bloody well be sure she could see him doing something right. If he could do something right.
You couldn't even kiss her properly, his brain cut in. This niggling thought zapped the warmth from his core. It was true. He hadn't. Too shocked to move. Too blown away to respond.
Then again, neither had she. If she'd really meant to kiss him, wouldn't she have angled differently? He'd turned his head, so if…
As though someone cracked an egg over his skull, disappointment washed down his back.
He'd turned his head. She'd never been going for his mouth. This whole thing was a bloody accident. Of course she wouldn't have gone further-she hadn't meant to do it in the first place! Thank merlin he didn't try to do anything else. She was probably mortified. And yeah, sure she'd been upset when he first started snogging Lavender, but he figured that was more because he was showing off in the Common Room and breaking like 12 school rules in the process. He'd long since accepted that it wasn't because she wanted to be in Lavender's place.
'Ron?' In his melancholy, Ron hadn't heard Katie approach. 'Are you alright?'
'Huh? Oh, er…yeah, I'm fine.'
'It's just a match-don't put too much pressure on yourself.' Katie put a comforting hand on his arm, and gave him a big smile. Merlin. Katie had spent more of the year in St. Mungo's, and here he was griping to himself about Hermione. There were more important things to think about; like Quidditch.
He smiled back at her and marched into the changeroom, ready to be fully invested in the game.
This lasted until he put his keeper gloves on. The worn leather made him think about Hermione's bookbag. He stared back down at his leather-clad fingers and tried to forget that her breath had smelled like treacle from the porridge she'd eaten. The rest of the team trickled into the changeroom, chatting excitedly, but he hardly took any notice of them.
'Oi!' Ginny's familiar voice echoed in the room as she threw her goggles at him.
'What was that for?' he asked her, rubbing his temple where they'd managed to hit.
'Quit being a mopey git,' she responded, throwing her broom down beside him. Hands on hips, hair tied back in a tight ponytail, it was clear that Ginny meant business. 'We're all mad that Harry's not here, but you don't have to look like you're going to a funeral.'
Ron felt himself blush. 'It's not that, it's-'
Ginny rolled her eyes. 'Yeah, yeah, yeah, your bloody nerves, I know. Well suck it up buttercup. I'm not heading back to the tower without a cup, you hear me?'
'Hear hear!' Came Cootes tiny voice. It always amazed Ron that Cootes could even stay up on a broom, that the air didn't just blow him away where he hovered. Ginny turned to look at the Beater, only to see that most of the team was staring at her.
'Yes,' Ginny continued, seeming to come into her own. 'We're the best team in the school, bar none.'
A few 'ayes' scattered from the benches. Ginny stood up to her full height, (not that it made much of a difference honestly,) and surveyed the assembled Gryffindors.
'Katie,' Ginny began, looking out towards the dark-haired girl. 'How you manage to know where Demelza and Dean will be is beyond me, but keep doing it. You're brilliant, and thank merlin you're back.' Katie smiled her thanks.
'Demelza, just keep speeding between the Ravenclaw beaters. I have it on record that Parker took a wand to the eye yesterday which means their vision won't be so good! You've always been great at being sneaky, so keep it up today!'
'Dean,' and with this Ginny turned. Dean was frowning at her, leaning on his broomstick. 'Chuck the personal stuff outside. You're a fab chaser, and a great asset to the team. Protect Demelza if you can, alright?' Dean nodded.
'Cootes, Peakes, just keep sending the bludgers to their bollocks if you can. Let's see if we can't wipe the smirks off their smug little faces!' The beaters grinned up at Ginny as the rest of the team laughed.
'And you,' Ginny said, turning back to face Ron. 'Pull your head out of the clouds. You'll play fine if you just think about the game rather than yourself.'
'You've got this Ginny!' Katie added, grinning as she looked at the younger girl.
Ginny shook her head. 'We've got this. Harry picked us as a team for a reason. So let's get out there and prove that so long as there are Weasleys in the castle, that cup belongs to Gryffindor!'
A great cheer erupted from the rest of the players, and Ron noticed Dean looking at Ginny with great admiration. Not that Ron blamed him. Ginny seemed fired up from her speech. She'd been good at it too, Ron noted. Better at getting people excited than Harry at any rate.
A shrill whistle emerged from the doorway. It was Hooch's signal to get ready. Ron grabbed the handle of his broomstick and gulped down his fear. He could do this. Dean put a hand on his shoulder. 'We've got this, mate.' Ron tried to smile at him, but feared it came out looking like a frown. Dread ballooned in his stomach.
Through their vantage point, they could more hear the roaring of the crowd rather than see it. There appeared to be quite a few Ravenclaw supporters from the little he could make out. Still, knowing that Hermione was seated somewhere near to his hoops made him feel marginally better.
He lined up behind the beaters, watching as Ginny led the launch out into the field. She played plenty well on her hand-me-down Cleansweep from Charlie. Ron had been only mildly miffed that Charlie had passed it down to Ginny rather than him. Then again, Charlie had been more lenient about letting Ginny follow him around the yard as a kid than the rest of them. Made sense he'd give her the better broom. Katie and Dean followed suit, kicking off against the wooden planks with determination. Demelza seemed to saunter off into the air, finding a weightlessness on her broom that Ron always wished he could emulate. Cootes turned back to high five Peakes and then set off at a running waddle, zooming into the air. Peakes followed suit.
It was Ron's turn. His broom was vibrating beneath him in anticipation and fear. He kicked off against the ground and felt the familiar rush of air as he escaped the changeroom tunnel and returned to the skies. His Cleansweep was a decent broom. Not as touch-sensitive as Harry's, but a solid one. He knew how to fly. He could stay on his broom. The crowd became a blur around him as he finished a lap around the pitch, before taking his customary position at the hoops. Bobbing between the three of them, he turned to his right. He first spotted Luna's ginormous Lion's head, before seeing Neville's shiny hair in the bench beneath hers. And right beside Neville, his eyes slid to a familiar pair of chocolate eyes. A familiar swooping sensation entered his lower extremities. She must be feeling awkward, he reckoned, as she stared at him with a wide, searching gaze. But she'd sat where he'd been expecting. Even better, she was at a brilliant angle. She'd be able to see all the saves he was going to make.
He felt himself grin at the thought of it. To his surprise, Hermione grinned back. The broom bobbed a little lower than he intended to at the sight. Warmth rushed over him. He could do this. Absolutely he could do this.
Fixated as he was on Hermione, he could only make out some curls mixing in with her own. It took a moment to register as Terry's. The warmth vanished at the sight. A couple of weeks ago Terry and Hermione had been on a first name basis. How did this translate to sitting together at a match? Why wasn't Terry with the rest of his Ravenclaw cronies? His heart began to pound in his chest.
From very far away, he heard Hooch's whistle. It dawned on him that this meant that the match was now underway.
Slowly he dragged his eyes from the sight of Hermione and Terry towards the centre of the pitch where it looked like Demelza had snuck in and grabbed the Quaffle.
'And Robbins is in procession of the Quaffle, surprising absolutely nobody. Maybe this is something the English team should consider for the upcoming World Cup, getting the tiniest players so nobody could catch them.'
Why anybody thought that having Smith commentate the match again was a good idea was beyond Ron. Demelza happened to pass it to Dean, and Ron was half scanning to make sure Ginny was alright. Not that she needed it. He mostly wanted her to find the snitch early so he could get back to the Common Room and get to the bottom of whatever was going on with Boot.
Maybe it was nothing. Hermione had been down here so early, and Boot could have come late to the match and then just happened to choose a seat beside her. Then again, Boot also seemed like the sort of prick that would show up early to things. Maybe they ended up together by virtue of being the first ones there.
Neither of these made him feel much better.
He darted his eyes back towards her. Eyes scanning the match, she was nibbling on her fingernail in worry. From her other side, Neville made a comment, reaching his arm to point something out. Hermione followed his gaze and then turned to comment back to him. Boot wasn't watching the match at all. Ron could see him glancing at Hermione out of the corner of his eye. Ron watched him lean forward to whisper something in her ear again, before Hermione jumped off the bench.
'Thomas scores!' came the rather bored voice of Smith from the megaphone. 'Gryffindor is in the lead, 10-nil.'
Luna's hat made an obnoxious roar. Ron grinned at the sight of it, and Luna caught his eye and beamed. Nice to know good old Lovegood had his back.
'Farooqi in poccession, narrowly missing a shot from Peakes.'
Ron clapped his hands together and brought his attention back to the action.
Most of the action was centered around the other rings, and didn't seem to be moving towards him anytime soon. He glanced back over to the stands. Hermione had ducked down, and was currently rifling through her back to look for something. From beside her, he could see Terry watching her intently as she searched. Was he trying to look into her bag? Then Ron felt a surge of anger as his heartbeat began to pound in his ears. No, clearly from the angle, Boot was trying to get a peek down the front of her robes. Ron had half a mind to fly over there and tell that smug prick to mind his own-
WHOOSH!
A flash of red darted past his left ear.
'Farooqi scores! Score tied, 10-10. Hope Weasley is starting to pay attention.'
Ron felt about three inches tall. He'd been so distracted looking at Hermione he'd completely forgotten to check the bloody rings! Amidst the cheers of the Ravenclaws, he flew behind the hoops and grabbed the Quaffle. Tossing it to Katie, he took his position back beside the centre hoop and vowed not to let that happen again.
Still, he chanced a glance at Hermione out of the corner of his eye. Gripped in her hands were her Omnioculars. It must have been what she'd been reaching for. She wasn't using them though, but rather darting her eyes back and forth near the Ravenclaw rings. It was amazing to watch how quickly her gaze could shift between whoever had the Quaffle. No matter how many times they squabbled over the supposed unimportance of Quidditch, Hermione managed to be a serious fan.
He could just make out the sound of the Quaffle drawing near. Snapping his head back to attention, he dove for it.
Only he misjudged the hoop, and it went sailing into the left as he dove to his right.
'Kent scores, 20-10 to Ravenclaw.'
Ron swore internally. He had to prove to Hermione and the rest of the Gryffindors that he could do this, that he was supposed to be Keeper. So far he hadn't been doing a good job. Somewhere in the stands he knew McLaggen was just filled with smug satisfaction.
He tossed the Quaffle to Demelza this time and watched her snake through the other players. Ginny was flying high above them all, eyes darting back and forth. She was frowning, and Ron was certain he was going to get an earful of it after the match. It was one thing to let the Quaffle in because of nerves. It was another to be distracted. He was damned if he wasn't going to help win this bloody match.
Unfortunately, the Ravenclaws had other thoughts on the matter. He'd been right-Liu had been teaching them various strategies. Ron could pick out various chaser maneuvers they were pulling straight from old World Cups. It would have been more helpful if he could have picked them out before they actually scored on him though.
After about 15 minutes, the score was tied at 100 each. Cootes and Peakes were doing their best to aim the bludgers towards the Ravenclaw beaters, but they were flying too well to be easily hit. Liu's training was seriously impressive. If Ron wasn't so mad, he would consider asking for tips. Ron's ears were red now. While he hadn't managed to make a complete arse of himself on the broom yet, letting in 10 goals without catching a single one was not the most helpful boost to his ego he'd ever received.
Trying to avoid the pounding in his heart and head, Ron resisted the urge to look at Hermione as much as possible. He didn't want to see the look of disappointment on her face. Sometimes it became too much, and he just had to peek at her drawn face, cheeks red from the sun and wind, curls thrashing around her head. It amused him to see some of them smack Boot in the face as she whipped her head towards the other end of the pitch.
A couple of minutes later it looked like Ginny had seen something. She made a sudden dive towards the centre of the pitch, Cho quick on her tail. Zig-zagging through the Ravenclaw beaters, the crowd was growing antsy with anticipation.
Another whoosh by his ear informed him that Farooqi had scored again. Ron swore aloud this time as he reached for the Quaffle. Ginny pulled up suddenly, zigzagging back. She'd been using diversionary tactics. Cho didn't seem very pleased by this revelation as she narrowly avoided colliding with one of the Ravenclaw hoops. Ron smirked to himself.
He watched Ginny begin circling the pitch once more, as the wind picked up. Hermione's curls were tangling with it, but to his surprise, he watched Boot catch some of them in his hand. Hermione looked at him in surprise, and Ron began to turn his broomstick to face them. Where did this bloke get off? Terry was laughing as he let go of Hermione's hair. Ron watched him reach for Hermione's other wrist and begin tugging off an elastic she usually kept there. Hermione seemed to offer no resistance, but watched Terry's face as he grasped the elastic in his hand and began pulling her hair into a ponytail.
Hermione should have been hexing Boot's bollocks off. At least, that's what Ron would have assumed. He'd often thought to tie her hair up, particularly when she sat in her favourite spot in the library, that draughty place that always had a breeze no matter if there were wind outside or not. She was always blowing at her hair to get it out of her face. But if Ron had tried that, he knew he'd be getting an earful at the very least. But Boot was allowed to do this?
Whipping his head back just in time to see Kent flying towards him, Ron sped on his broom to try and fend the chaser off. He miscalculated, and ended up crashing into the side of the burly Ravenclaw, sending both of their brooms off course. This didn't stop Kent from throwing the ball, and to Ron's horror, it went sailing through the centre hoop. Ron could hear the cheers of the Ravenclaws as he tried to correct his broom's course. Angry at himself, he wrenched his broom harshly to the right.
Too harshly.
He felt a jolt, and suddenly his balance was off. In front of everyone in the stands, he felt himself slide down the bottom of the shaft, leather-clad fingers having trouble gripping the smooth wood. He swore as he continued to slip further off the broom. Now dangerously off-kilter, the Cleansweep was pointing high into the sky, and Ron was trying vainly to hold on and right himself.
'Ron!' Hermione's shriek was unmistakable. The fear in it made him more aware of the danger of his situation. At this rate he was about 30, 35 feet off the ground. A fall from that height would definitely land him back in the Hospital Wing. Assuming Hermione wouldn't have the foresight to cast a slowing charm or something on him as he went down, which she might not. Crisis casting never had been her strong suit.
'What-' Thud. 'The-' Grunt. 'FUCK-' Thud. 'Are you doing?!'
Ginny was beside him now, helping to right him on the edge of her broomstick. Keeping one foot balanced at the tip of hers, he managed to launch himself back upright on his own, turning it softly back towards the hoops. She followed him as he flew, deliberately choosing to ignore the embarrassment he was currently feeling.
He settled himself back into position, knowing his entire face was red. Ginny was keeping one eye focused on the pitch, but her face towards his.
'Seriously, what has gotten into you?!' she yelled at him. 'Get your head out of your arse and pay attention!'
Without allowing him the dignity of a response, she flew off in the opposite direction. Slumping his shoulders at being told off by his little sister, Ron focused on trying to keep his eyes solely trained on the Quaffle.
This seemed to pay off. He watched Imeldez try and feint towards his left, but Ron noticed the manuever and deftly caught the ball as it sailed towards his right. He tossed it back to Dean, who passed it to Katie. There were cheers from the Gryffindor side this time, and Luna's hat made a loud roar.
Feeling slightly better, he tried this strategy again. One more, as Kent and Farooqi passed it between them, Ron was able to pick up that they wanted to split him down the middle. He pretended to fall for it, only to dive back in the middle hoop and catch it by the tips of his fingers. Amidst even louder cheers, he threw the ball to Demelza, who gave him a smile before zooming off.
Okay, he thought to himself. I got this. I just can't look at Hermione.
He slid his eyes towards the other end of the pitch in time to watch Demelza score yet again. They were well in the lead now, 280-110. For the first time since he'd nearly fallen off his broom Ron could breathe again. Even if Cho got the snitch, Ravenclaw would still lose the match.
From his right, he could barely make out some singing. He tried to make it out as he watched the action near the Ravenclaw hoops but couldn't discern the words. Turning his head, he realized with a jolt that Luna and Neville had attempted to start a round of Weasley is our King, without much success. Hermione was mouthing some of the words and looking up at him with a large grin. She was clearly ignoring Terry's question beside her-a fact that Ron was very happy to see.
He grinned back at her, feeling his heart lighten somewhat.
Hermione's grin sustained him through the next three goals that he missed. Clearly the Ravenclaws had cottoned on to him catching on to their World Cup strategy, and had moved on to more complicated tactics that were slightly more difficult to pick up ahead of time.
'Has Chang seen the Snitch?'
Ron was jolted back, noticing that Cho was speeding towards the western stands, Ginny not far behind. He couldn't tell if it was Cho's turn to make a diversion, or if she really believed that she was seeing something. But he hoped for Ginny's sake it wasn't true. Coming back to Harry with a win was one thing, but he couldn't imagine Ginny returning to the Common Room having not caught the Snitch herself.
Most of the crowd were on their feet now, eagerly anticipating what seemed to be the end of the match. Ron watched as Ginny seemed to gain on Cho, forcing her broomstick to inch towards the Ravenclaw ever faster. Closer to his own hoops, Kent was taking advantage of the distraction and was speeding towards him, but Ron was too focused on Ginny to care much. He swung his broom to the left hoop, knowing that Ginny was likely about to win the game, and that this the likeliest path for Kent to come towards him. As he listened to the crowd cheer, one voice rang out more clearly than the others.
'Ron, watch out!' Hermione was shrieking once more. Ron whipped his head towards her in time to see the Quaffle speeding directly for his head. Yanking his broom down hard with his legs, he reached his arms out in front of him, and managed to grab the ball before it went into the hoop. The momentum forced him backwards and his shoulder banged painfully against the metal. But he'd saved the goal! And hadn't made a complete fool of himself in the process.
Hooch's whistle sounded.
'Weasley catches the Snitch,' Smith called. 'Gryffindor wins with 450 points.'
The words came from the end of a tunnel. Then slowly, like a brand new sunrise, it dawned on Ron.
'We won?' he asked aloud, hardly daring to believe it. But if Luna's roaring head wasn't enough to convince him, he could hear Hermione's delighted yells.
'We won!' he cried. Throwing the Quaffle to the ground, he zoomed towards the centre of the pitch and engulfed the rest of his teammates in an embrace of sweat and tears.
They'd won the bloody cup.
As Hooch went to get the trophy, Ron took the opportunity to do a victory lap. As he passed by Hermione's stand, he was thrilled to see her cheering him madly. Terry looked a little sour from beside her, put out no doubt by the fact that she was clearly ignoring him.
At that moment, Ron didn't even care if he got to hold the Cup. Hermione had been there to see him triumph, and that was worth more to him than any trophy he would ever receive.
As for Boot? Well, Terry Boot could suck it.
A/N-Part of why writing this Quidditch match is so hard was me trying to figure out how to let 14 goals in, without completely destroying Ron's confidence. Poor bloke needed a win!
Next chapter will be slightly out of synch, perspective wise. I swear on all my first editions that it will be worth it when we come back to Hermione shortly, but a couple of plot points needed to be set out by Ron in the upcoming chapter. Plus I'd originally planned on this being one chapter, but without the actual Quidditch action it was getting into the 6,000~ word mark, and it did seem better suited to be split up. Bonus, it is mostly written, so it won't be so long between updates!
Lots of love to you all,
Ashy