It wasn't the first time I'd been on a Muggle bus. Before Hogwarts, I used to have to ride one to get to school field trips. Rather shaky, if you asked me. Especially in the back. By the time I would get off, my back would be achey and I'd have a headache.
However, this bus ride was a bit different.
Ron bought tickets to the Chudley Cannons game over the summer. July 1st, actually. Somehow - he won't tell me how, but I know he broke some sort of rule - he managed to release Harry from that prison of a house he was staying at, so he was able to come along, too.
The Quidditch Match was rather far away, and spots on the train were scarce. I suggested to Mr. Weasley a Muggle bus that transported to the match, almost directly. He was obviously really excited about this, as he is obsessed with all things Muggle.
I don't really like Quidditch. I support the Gryffindor house team, but I don't really care enough to go to the Chudley Cannons match. I went because Ron asked me to go.
The bus seats fit two people at a time. Ron sat down and I sat next to him. Harry wasn't there yet, or I expect Ron would have sat with him. All the same, he wasn't there, so I sat with Ron. My heart slammed hard against my ribcage. No use trying to deny that that wasn't the first time.
Harry eventually arrived to the stop. He sat next to Fred in a bench about four rows up from Ron and me, who were in the very last seat. No one was sitting in the spot across the isle - Harry had plopped his luggage on the chair.
It was still very early in the morning when the bus jerked, startling all its passengers. I peered to my left to look at Ron's watch. Yes, still quite early - 5:00 in the morning. The sky outside had hardly a trace of the sunrise. I sort of liked it this way. People on the bus were quiet, and calm, and no one really said anything. Darkness was thick down the isle.
I turned my head once more to look at Ron. His eyes looked about ready to close, looking especially droopy this morning. He hadn't spoken a word since I'd sat down, except for hello.
"You're being quiet," I nudged his arm with my elbow.
Ron shrugged. "Tired," was all he said. He stretched, then rubbed his eyes.
"Mmm..." I wasn't sure what to say to him. He looked a lot different. I couldn't tell him that. His tanned skin was even evident in the darkness of the bus.
Things felt a lot different. I didn't know why. I still don't. I just felt like the silence between us was okay, because we trusted it so much. We trusted each other. And he looked different.
"What have you been doing this summer?" I asked, finally. I already knew. The letters we had written were plenty descriptive.
Ron stopped rubbing his eyes to look at me, but it was hard to meet his eyes in the dark. "'Dunno. Sat around, I guess. Played a bit of Quidditch with my brothers." Ron said. "And you?"
"Worried," I said, while looking at my hands. I gulped - I didn't mean to say that.
However, Ron didn't seem surprised. "Me, too," He sighed. "It's hard to talk to him."
I nodded, and stood up for a second, pretending to fix my robes, but really checking on Harry. His head was propped against the window, his dark hair sticking up. It was the back of his head, but I was sure he was sleeping. That was better.
"I hope he has fun at the match, though," Ron said, a moment later. "Think he will?"
"Of course he will. Quidditch is his life, Ron."
"Will you?" Ron turned to look at me, his corner turned in a bit of a grin. It was charming.
"I'll pretend to," I smiled, and so did Ron. "You know I'm not crazy about Quidditch, though."
"Yeah," he said. "But the Cannons are different." Ron slid down into the seat, and propped his knees against the back of the seat in front of him.
He looked comfortable. I sat that way too. Ron looked over and smiled at me, and then closed his eyes a bit.
I don't know what it was about being on the bus with him that early in the morning. Something different and new, and it was good. It was great.
Our shoulders touched.
I didn't move. He didn't either. I closed my eyes.
However, this bus ride was a bit different.
Ron bought tickets to the Chudley Cannons game over the summer. July 1st, actually. Somehow - he won't tell me how, but I know he broke some sort of rule - he managed to release Harry from that prison of a house he was staying at, so he was able to come along, too.
The Quidditch Match was rather far away, and spots on the train were scarce. I suggested to Mr. Weasley a Muggle bus that transported to the match, almost directly. He was obviously really excited about this, as he is obsessed with all things Muggle.
I don't really like Quidditch. I support the Gryffindor house team, but I don't really care enough to go to the Chudley Cannons match. I went because Ron asked me to go.
The bus seats fit two people at a time. Ron sat down and I sat next to him. Harry wasn't there yet, or I expect Ron would have sat with him. All the same, he wasn't there, so I sat with Ron. My heart slammed hard against my ribcage. No use trying to deny that that wasn't the first time.
Harry eventually arrived to the stop. He sat next to Fred in a bench about four rows up from Ron and me, who were in the very last seat. No one was sitting in the spot across the isle - Harry had plopped his luggage on the chair.
It was still very early in the morning when the bus jerked, startling all its passengers. I peered to my left to look at Ron's watch. Yes, still quite early - 5:00 in the morning. The sky outside had hardly a trace of the sunrise. I sort of liked it this way. People on the bus were quiet, and calm, and no one really said anything. Darkness was thick down the isle.
I turned my head once more to look at Ron. His eyes looked about ready to close, looking especially droopy this morning. He hadn't spoken a word since I'd sat down, except for hello.
"You're being quiet," I nudged his arm with my elbow.
Ron shrugged. "Tired," was all he said. He stretched, then rubbed his eyes.
"Mmm..." I wasn't sure what to say to him. He looked a lot different. I couldn't tell him that. His tanned skin was even evident in the darkness of the bus.
Things felt a lot different. I didn't know why. I still don't. I just felt like the silence between us was okay, because we trusted it so much. We trusted each other. And he looked different.
"What have you been doing this summer?" I asked, finally. I already knew. The letters we had written were plenty descriptive.
Ron stopped rubbing his eyes to look at me, but it was hard to meet his eyes in the dark. "'Dunno. Sat around, I guess. Played a bit of Quidditch with my brothers." Ron said. "And you?"
"Worried," I said, while looking at my hands. I gulped - I didn't mean to say that.
However, Ron didn't seem surprised. "Me, too," He sighed. "It's hard to talk to him."
I nodded, and stood up for a second, pretending to fix my robes, but really checking on Harry. His head was propped against the window, his dark hair sticking up. It was the back of his head, but I was sure he was sleeping. That was better.
"I hope he has fun at the match, though," Ron said, a moment later. "Think he will?"
"Of course he will. Quidditch is his life, Ron."
"Will you?" Ron turned to look at me, his corner turned in a bit of a grin. It was charming.
"I'll pretend to," I smiled, and so did Ron. "You know I'm not crazy about Quidditch, though."
"Yeah," he said. "But the Cannons are different." Ron slid down into the seat, and propped his knees against the back of the seat in front of him.
He looked comfortable. I sat that way too. Ron looked over and smiled at me, and then closed his eyes a bit.
I don't know what it was about being on the bus with him that early in the morning. Something different and new, and it was good. It was great.
Our shoulders touched.
I didn't move. He didn't either. I closed my eyes.