Hey guys! I have chapter eight for you here! I hope you all like it, it took me a little longer to get right, and I'm not even sure it's even right now. But anyway, I made it a bit longer than usual. It was ten pages, but I figured I could use some of that for the beginning of the next chapter, so here you go, eight pages of story! Hope you enjoy, don't forget to review!

Lauren

Disclaimer: Haha, if only I owned Harry Potter! But noo, I'm just a dumb high school junior, busy researching colleges, when I could be writing a freakin novel! Damn cruel world! Anyway, I don't own Harry Potter. Shucks!

Chapter eight

Quidditch Qualms

THUMP!

Ron rolled over onto his stomach and pushed himself up, his eyes still closed. He felt the carpet beneath his fingers as he made it to his knees. He opened his eyes and looked around. Ah yes, this old scenario… He got up to his feet, got back into his bed, and closed his eyes, trying to escape from the tenth nightmare he'd had that week. They all started exactly the same:

He would walk out onto the quidditch pitch, get onto his broom, push off, and fly around. He would fly through the goal posts, swoop around, and then get the goal posts on the other side. He would always get that wonderfully peaceful feeling up in the air, and he very much liked it.

Then, Harry would appear, out of nowhere, on his broom, and join him through the goal posts. Soon it would turn into a race. A friendly race, of course. He would look down and notice Hermione and Ginny, watching from the stands and cheering them on. For a few minutes they would simply glide through the air, completely content, until…

A shriek could be heard from far below. Surprised, Ron would look down, and what he saw was always a mystery. One night, the first time he had the nightmare, it was Ginny being kidnapped. The next night? Hermione was struck by a stray bludger. Tonight's dream was particularly strange: Hermione just randomly disappeared. Ginny was crying hysterically, because there had been nothing she could do to stop it. There was no explanation for it at all. Ron had no idea what these dreams meant, but he got the general feeling that he wasn't meant to play quidditch. Not at all. He had told Harry about them, but Harry had just reassured him that the dreams were only the surfacing of his nervousness and insecurity for the tryouts, which happened to be taking place the next day. Ron had guessed he was right, but he was still a bit freaked out about it. He had considered telling Hermione, but then he had tried to imagine her reaction…

"Well, I know that dreaming about something like that once is normal, perfectly normal, but dreaming about it repeatedly…I'm not sure Ron, maybe you should talk to Dumbledore, or maybe even Madame Pomfrey. You may be some sort of psychological problems. Or maybe you're just really nervous. But I think you should talk to, well, talk to both of them, just to be safe, all right? I don't want anything to happen to you, I don't know what I'd do! Promise me you'll talk to them, okay? Promise?"

Definitely not something he could handle at the moment.

He lay down, trying to think happy thoughts, thoughts about him and Hermione, and… nothing seemed to be distracting him from the disturbing and upsetting thought of Hermione suddenly disappearing. The past nightmares had scared him, but this one really shook him. He felt a chill run though his body and pulled the covers closer to him, snuggling his head into his pillow. After willing himself to think happy thoughts, he realized that attempting to fall back asleep was hopeless. He took a blanket from the end of the bed, grabbed Hermione's arithmancy book off his bedstand (she had convinced him it was at worth skimming through) and headed downstairs. Maybe he could sleep easier if he was in front of a warm fire. And if not, hey, he could at least learn something.

Wait, Ron, wanting to learn something? He really was desperate.

He got downstairs, lay on the couch, pulled the blanket over his legs, and rested the book on his stomach. He was about to open it, when suddenly he felt his eyes droop uncontrollably. Within minutes, he was deep in a relaxed, dreamless sleep.

The next morning, Ron awoke from the touch of Hermione's lips on his forehead. He opened his eyes to find the loveliest chin he had ever seen right above his nose. She pulled back and smiled. Ron just looked at her, very glad to see her.

"So, did you sleep well?" she asked in a sweet whisper.

"Yeah, actually, I did, strangely enough, considering…" he said, stretching his arms out in front of him. She leaned in again and kissed his cheek.

"Hmm, that's good, I'm glad. Cause now you get to explain to me why you didn't tell me about your nightmares!" she bellowed, getting to her feet and placing her hands on her hips. Ron felt his hands grow clammy and a bit of a sweat broke out on his forehead.

Okay, okay, just be calm, this will all be okay. Just say something reeeeally convincing…

"Hermione, I only didn't tell you because I thought you would get worried, and I didn't want you to worry about me, that's all! I mean, you've got enough things to worry about, what with all your head girl duties, and the events coming up you have to organize, and keeping that perfect GPA of yours," he said with a sly grin. "I just didn't want you to be worried about something not worth worrying about."

Wow! And I didn't even make it up!

Hermione looked at him with a puzzling expression. She was smiling, while trying not to smile. Her eyes glistened, but very, very persistently, even with her trying to look stern. She sat back down next to him and rested her hand on his knee.

"I'm sorry I got so upset. I just want you to tell me about these things, okay? It's not like I get that worried about things anyway, right?"

Ron looked at her blankly, too afraid to show any sort of emotion, in fear that laughing would surely upset Hermione even more.

"Hey, okay, okay, I get it, I just worry too much. But it's only because I care, you know that, right?"

He sat up to pull Hermione into his arms.

"Of course, and I'm so lucky you care so much. I'll tell you next time, all right?"

Hermione nodded and kissed his neck.

Three hours later, Ron was pacing the common room, broom in hand, practically rubbing the carpet bare with his rough gait. Harry was sitting in a chair, flexing his arm(he had finally been able to take off his sling), trying not to laugh at Ron for being so unnecessarily nervous. Ginny was on the arm of his chair, playing with his hair thoughtlessly while listening to Hermione, who was in a chair behind Ron, attempt to allay his fears.

"Ron, you know you're going to do fine, you're an excellent Quidditch player, anyone could tell you that. Besides, it runs in the family, all of your brothers, okay, except Percy, have all been on the house team! There's no doubting you can do it Ron, you just have to relax. Trust yourself," Hermione insisted. Ron was trying to, he really was. But his nerves were getting the best of him. He began taking deep breaths and running his hands through his hair. Harry looked down at his watch, kissed Ginny's cheek, (which made her blush, she hadn't quite grown used to his affectionate gestures yet) and wished Ron luck before heading out the portrait hole. This only made Ron more nervous. Hermione took his hand in hers, wrapped her arm around his, and squeezed it tight.

"Ron, you can do it, I know you can!"

He smiled at her appreciatively, kissed her forehead, and headed upstairs to splash his face with water. He wasn't sure how this would help him, but since he was really frantic he couldn't think of much else to do. He jumped back down the stairs, hugged Ginny, blew Hermione a kiss, and made his way through the portrait hole. As soon as he left, the girls exchanged worried looks.

"Do you really think he'll make it?" Ginny asked, feeling guiltily doubtful.

"Of course he will! He just, well…ooh, we'd better go watch."

Ron took his broom up in both hands and stood in the center of the field. He sighed heavily, looked up at the sky, and smiled. He knew that, as soon as he got up there, he'd be fine. Now, if he could just make it up there…

"Ron, you ready?"

Ron looked back down at the table five feet ahead of him. Harry was sitting with Seamus, Dean, and two fifth year boys. Ron examined the faces of all of them, and decided that he might actually have a chance. They all looked nice enough, not too hard to impress. He sighed again, stepped over his broom, and nodded. Harry stood up, walked over to the quidditch box, and unlatched the hook. He looked over at Ron before he set free one of the bludgers. Ron gulped. Harry quickly ran over, handed him a bat, and patted him on the back. He closed his eyes tightly, then pushed off high into the air.

Immediately, he felt somewhat relaxed, if you could possibly be relaxed knowing there was a bludger out there with your name on it. He heard the whizzing sound, spun around, and whacked it with all his might. When he looked up, it was twenty, thirty, fifty feet away. He heard the faint sound of cheering from below him, and he smiled confidently. Hey, this isn't as bad as I thought… The bludger made it's way back to Ron, and he was able to get a good five shots at it. He looked down to Harry, but was surprised when he found him flying up from right behind him.

"Okay Ron, I want you to hit the bludger back down to Seamus, aim as best as you can, and then we're going to do some laps, all right?"

Ron nodded, then readied the bat over his shoulder. He gave it a good smack, slipped the bat under his arm, and took hold of his broomstick. The two boys sped off toward the goal posts. Ron was doing pretty well, Harry thought. He couldn't help but think Ron was much better than himself, and he awaited the moment he could tell him so. He knew how much it meant to Ron.

Things were going well. Harry called out to Ron for him to meet him in the center of the field. Suddenly, Ron felt an ominous feeling tearing at his stomach. He looked down and saw Ginny and Hermione walking across the field to the table. But something wasn't right. Where was the other bludger?