Just Thinking
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Her Highness Rowling owns it all
Part II
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"Ron, I can't make it to watch Harry this afternoon. Professor Vector just assigned a *huge* essay and I need to get a head start on it," Hermione said as they arrived back in the Gryffindor common room after the last class of the day. She dropped her books onto a table and herself into an armchair by the fire.
"Alright," said Ron. "I'll see you later." He climbed the spiral staircase to his dormitory, threw his books onto his bed, and then made his way back out through the portrait hole, down the marble staircase, and out the front doors. It was only snowing lightly but the air was very cold, and he pulled his cloak tightly around himself as he walked down to the Quidditch pitch.
He climbed slowly up the wooden staircase underneath the stands, pausing for a moment at the top to enjoy what little warmth there was before moving out into the cold air again. He chose a seat at the front and pulled his legs up under his cloak, trying to conserve as much heat as possible. The Gryffindor team was already in the air, playing a practice match. One team wore blue stars on the front and back of their usual scarlet Quidditch robes to distinguish them from the others. Ron could just make out Harry through the snow, circling slowly high above the rest of the game. Harry didn't notice him.
//Typical. I really needn't have come, seeing as he doesn't see me and I can barely see him.//
//But you always come to watch him practice.//
//Why's that?//
//Tradition?//
//Oh, come on. You can do better than that.//
//Honestly, I can't. If you're so smart, why don't you tell me?//
//You want it.//
//Want what? What are you talking about?//
//You know exactly what I'm talking about. You want to be like him. Youngest Seeker in a hundred years, name known by everyone in the wizarding world… //
//Mortal enemy of a really dangerous dark wizard, butt of half the jokes that come out of a Slytherin's mouth, a real knack for getting seriously injured at least once a year… Did you forget to mention those?//
//No, I didn't, but I think that you-//
//I'm his friend, that's all. I wouldn't want to be in his shoes.//
//I don't believe that for a minute, Ron Weasley. If you had the opportunity to change places with him, you'd do it in a heartbeat. It's not easy being the youngest of six brothers, is it? You're never going to be as good at Quidditch as Charlie, or as cool as Bill, or as smart as Percy-//
//I wouldn't want to be as *anything* as Percy.//
//Point well taken. But anyways, you'll never be as funny as Fred and George either. What's left? Everything you can do's been done before. But Harry, ah, no one else can cast a shadow big enough for him to fit under. No, he's larger than life, and you'd die to be that way too.//
"Hey Ron, what are you doing up here?" Ron blinked, looked up, and noticed that the air was now absent of scarlet robes. "Practice was over five minutes ago." He turned to look where the voice was coming from. There was Harry, standing in the highest row, near the top of the stairs. He was silhouetted against the snow-white sky, his robes lit up by the fiery light of the setting sun, looking like a god among mortals.
"Just thinking."
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Sam Davidson