Weasley Is Our King
By Pretty with A Jaded Pistol
Harry Potter Fanfiction: Ron/Hermione
Disclaimer: Oh, yeah, I forgot. I don't own Harry Potter at all. J.K. does. Warning, if you have not read Order of the Phoenix, I suggest you stop reading right about…now. There are spoilers afoot. ;-)
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Okay, for those of you who HAVE read Order of the Phoenix, this takes place after the first Quidditch game. This is what I speculate is going through Ron's head as he wanders around after the match. Enjoy.
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Whose bloody idea was it for me to try out for Keeper of the Gryffindor Quidditch team anyway?
Oh yeah. It was mine. Me, the stupid prat, who for some reason thought he had any sort of talent to be remotely good as Keeper. And I bloody bet you anything that Angelina picked me out of pure and simple pity. Because that's what I am, you see, pitiful. I couldn't stop a Quaffle if my life depended on it.
Maybe the Slytherins were right.
Weasley cannot save a thing…
He cannot block a single ring…
That's why Slytherins all sing…
Weasley is our King.
It could have been worse. Malfoy could have caught the Snitch instead of Harry. But at the same time, it still doesn't lessen the absolute stupidity that's weighing down on me.
Especially since she was watching.
She had kissed me on the cheek. Hermione Granger had kissed me, Ron Weasley, on the cheek. I don't think my ears had ever turned a darker shade of red. I barely remember Harry dragging me out of the Great Hall I was in such a daze. Of course, this whole bloody day has been a haze, a bad dream. I wish I could just wake up and know that somebody else was Keeper, that somebody else had had to feel that cold realization of terror as soon as they had woke up this morning.
Yep, the only thing I remember from today in any great detail is the fact that Hermione kissed me on the cheek before the game. For that moment, I was brought out of my clouded state, and for a split second I thought I was going to block every attempt the Slytherins made, that I was going to help Gryffindor on their way to victory.
And, boy was I ever wrong.
Weasley was born in a bin…
He always lets the Quaffle in…
Weasley will make sure we win…
Weasley is our King.
My hair is soaked from the snow now. I can't feel my body either. The bloody cold has numbed me of all feelings. Well not all of them. I still hate myself for being such an idiot and nearly losing the game for us. And I still know that I…well…
Fancy Hermione a bit.
Yeah, that's right, I fancy Hermione. So what? I have a snowball's chance in hell with her anyway. With her writing to Vicky and all that. She probably fancies him because he's one of the best Seekers in the whole International Quidditch league. And I can't even Keep decent enough for a House team. I think he's got me beat there, what do you think?
He probably doesn't argue with her all the time either, like me. This whole fancying thing is just not for me, so what do I resort to? My ability to piss her off in two seconds flat. Sometimes it's downright hilarious, but as of late, it hurts more and more with each argument. Why can't I just stop being an idiot and stop arguing with her?!? Oh, yes, I forgot, because I don't want anyone knowing that I fancy someone. Hermione of all people.
It's not that…that it would be a terribly bad thing if anybody knew. I just know she doesn't feel that way about me. I'm just her friend, Ron. Harry's sidekick. Someone who can never do anything right, even if they put their entire heart into it.
Weasley is our King…
Weasley is our King…
He always lets the Quaffle in…
Weasley is our King.
Damn Slytherins and their damn song. If they hadn't been riling me up, I might've done just a bit better. But just a bit mind you. And maybe she would have been proud of me. But not now.
As the portrait hole door swings open, I look up and see the two people I would prefer not to see me as I look right now. I bet I look dreadful, seeing as I'm still in my Quidditch things and covered in snow.
But the first words out of her mouth are:
"Where have you been?"
I look up, wondering if I had heard her correctly. Had Hermione just asked me where I had been? In that tone of voice she gets only when she is truly anxious about something? Had she really been worried about me?
Remembering that she had in fact asked me a question, I answer dully, "Walking."
"You look frozen. Come and sit down."
I sit in an armchair close to the fire and tell Harry that I am planning to resign from the Quidditch team. But, as it turns out, it would be in the team's best interest if I stayed on, even if I am no good. That stupid bloody Umbridge banned Harry, Fred, and George from the team. It's all my fault too, because I had to be absolutely lousy at Quidditch.
I catch Hermione's eye as she is walking to the window. There was something in her eyes that made me wonder. She looked as if she wanted to say that no, I did absolutely fine for my first Quidditch game ever, that I'll do better next time, to have confidence in myself.
And in the midst of all of the stupid rubbish that's going on, I feel, just for a moment, like maybe I really am a king.
And I guess that makes Hermione queen.
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Review please and tell me what you think! PwAJP @-}-
