Here we go....
-_-_-_-
The wind blew the hair back from his freckled forehead, but Ron Weasley only sighed and resumed trudging halfheartedly through the snow. He looked up to find that he had reached his destination, the Quidditch pitch. The arena which immortalized his failure at the one sport he truly loved besides Wizard's Chess. He turned to look at the school and saw how deep the snow had gotten since he had gone for his walk; he must've been walking for hours, but he didn't care. Today had proved something that he had feared his whole life, that he Ronald Weasley was destined to be a failure. And it tore at him, ravaged him, and made him want to scream and scream, to yell so everyone in the world would hear, "I'm worth it! Look at me, I have value! "
But he never would, and everyone would look down their nose at him and say as Malfoy had once said, "Red hair and a hand-me-down robe? Another Weasley..."
They would pass him by, ignore him, push him to the side and overlook him, but the worst of it was that he knew he deserved it. He deserved it everytime someone's eyes slid over him to view something of more interest.
He made his way up the stadiums, and sat down in the corner of the Gryffindor section. He ached, thinking about his stupidity. What in the world had possessed him to think about trying out for Keeper? He spoke out loud to himself, his voice laced with disdain.
"Face it Weasley, you're a loser; always have been, always will be. You let everyone down, you have."
The wind picked up and bit at the bare flesh exposed around his neck; he pulled his cloak tighter around himself and buried his face into his knees. His mind whirled in distress, acknowledging his uselessness. The song of the Slytherins echoed in his head,
"Weasley is our king...he always lets the Quaffle in..."
When he next lifted his head, he noticed how dark the sky was, and got up feeling the stiffness in his bones. Abentmindedly, he wondered how long he had been out there, but brushed it aside. It didn't matter, he knew no one would have missed him and dreaded going back to that horrible Common Room, where all the disappointed and angry Gryffindors would be consoling themselves and hating him.
The tall young man walked a little slower towards the castle, and distract himself by singing the latest song from famous wizarding band, 'The Dreadful Druids.'
-_-_-_-
Hermione sat talking to Harry when she heard someone enter through the portrait, she didn't pay much attention to it until she realized that the entire Common Room had gone quiet at the person. She looked up and saw Ron, his ears and face pink from the cold, and his hair windblown. He looked very uncomfortable with all the attention and walked over to where she was standing with Harry. She decided to distract him from the glares and the whispers,
"Where have you been?"
"Walking."
After their short conversation, Hermione realized how bad his performance at the match was hurting him. He must've beaten himself up for it during his whole walk. A wave of compassion washed over her, and she wished she could help him. Suddenly an idea stuck her, and she ran off, leaving a bewildered Harry behind.
-_-_-_-
Hermione was at the library during the wee hours of the morning, a large pile of books around her. She looked very tired, as though she had spent much of the night in the dusty room. She collected the books she needed and slowly made her way over towards the Gryffindor Common Room. She clambered clumsily through the portrait, and up the stairs to her dormitory, where she promptly collapsed onto her bed, books still clutched in her arms.
When she woke up four hours later, she was very irritable indeed and snapped at both Parvati and Lavender for waking her up. They rolled their eyes, and made rather loud whispers about 'that time of the month.' Looking at her watch, Hermione was shocked to see how late it was; she ran to the lavatory to wash up and change into her clothes.
She raced to the Great Hall and threw herself into her usual seat between Harry and Ron. She noticed that Ron was picking at his food and looking very miserable. Striking up a lively conversation, she waited until Harry had left to ask Ginny something before nudging Ron in the ribs.
"How are you? You look awful, did you sleep at all last night?"
He looked up at her,
"Not much."
"There's always the next match, Ron. Don't worry about it. I'm sure you'll do wonderfully next time."
"Fat chance of that 'Mione, I'm about as good at Quidditch as you are at Chess."
"Don't say that Ron. You don't know that. It was just an off day."
"How about an off life."
Hermione's temper snapped, she was already cranky, and Ron refused to be comforted.
"Well, maybe if you practised harder, and stopped feeling sorry for yourself you'd get a little better!"
Ron stared at her, obviously confused and Hermione was proud of herself.
"Listen Ron, I saw your game and I know you can do better than that. So I've got a bit of a proposal for you."
"You have?"
"Yes, you give me the rest of our time at Hogwarts, any by the time that we graduate, there won't be any Quidditch team in England who wouldn't be proud to have you as their Keeper!"
Ron looked at her in disbelief.
"You really think that you could do that? Its impossible, there's no way in hell I'll ever be a professional Quidditch player. That game yesterday made it obvious-"
"- that you'll never win with that attitude. I saw you before the game and you were telling yourself that you were going to lose. And that's exactly what happened. You lost. Don't you see? It was your attitude that did it. Just let me try, and if it doesn't work out then at least you'll have the pride of knowing that you worked hard for something, and even if you're not the best Keeper, you'll be a lot better than you are now."
"Hey, that hurt Hermione!"
Hermione looked up, but saw he was grinning. She stuck out her right hand, and said,
"Is it a deal, Weasley?"
Ron gave her a calculating look before taking hers and gave it a firm shake.
"You bet your arse it is, Granger!"
"Ron! Language, you're a prefect!"
Ron just chuckled and Hermione noticed a few moments later that he was digging into his meal like a starving man. She smiled in spite of herself, it was good to hear Ron laugh.
-_-_-_-
Woohoo! Go Ron, Go Hermione, Go Me!
I know I'm slightly insane.
GO ME!
- Arynnl
-_-_-_-
The wind blew the hair back from his freckled forehead, but Ron Weasley only sighed and resumed trudging halfheartedly through the snow. He looked up to find that he had reached his destination, the Quidditch pitch. The arena which immortalized his failure at the one sport he truly loved besides Wizard's Chess. He turned to look at the school and saw how deep the snow had gotten since he had gone for his walk; he must've been walking for hours, but he didn't care. Today had proved something that he had feared his whole life, that he Ronald Weasley was destined to be a failure. And it tore at him, ravaged him, and made him want to scream and scream, to yell so everyone in the world would hear, "I'm worth it! Look at me, I have value! "
But he never would, and everyone would look down their nose at him and say as Malfoy had once said, "Red hair and a hand-me-down robe? Another Weasley..."
They would pass him by, ignore him, push him to the side and overlook him, but the worst of it was that he knew he deserved it. He deserved it everytime someone's eyes slid over him to view something of more interest.
He made his way up the stadiums, and sat down in the corner of the Gryffindor section. He ached, thinking about his stupidity. What in the world had possessed him to think about trying out for Keeper? He spoke out loud to himself, his voice laced with disdain.
"Face it Weasley, you're a loser; always have been, always will be. You let everyone down, you have."
The wind picked up and bit at the bare flesh exposed around his neck; he pulled his cloak tighter around himself and buried his face into his knees. His mind whirled in distress, acknowledging his uselessness. The song of the Slytherins echoed in his head,
"Weasley is our king...he always lets the Quaffle in..."
When he next lifted his head, he noticed how dark the sky was, and got up feeling the stiffness in his bones. Abentmindedly, he wondered how long he had been out there, but brushed it aside. It didn't matter, he knew no one would have missed him and dreaded going back to that horrible Common Room, where all the disappointed and angry Gryffindors would be consoling themselves and hating him.
The tall young man walked a little slower towards the castle, and distract himself by singing the latest song from famous wizarding band, 'The Dreadful Druids.'
-_-_-_-
Hermione sat talking to Harry when she heard someone enter through the portrait, she didn't pay much attention to it until she realized that the entire Common Room had gone quiet at the person. She looked up and saw Ron, his ears and face pink from the cold, and his hair windblown. He looked very uncomfortable with all the attention and walked over to where she was standing with Harry. She decided to distract him from the glares and the whispers,
"Where have you been?"
"Walking."
After their short conversation, Hermione realized how bad his performance at the match was hurting him. He must've beaten himself up for it during his whole walk. A wave of compassion washed over her, and she wished she could help him. Suddenly an idea stuck her, and she ran off, leaving a bewildered Harry behind.
-_-_-_-
Hermione was at the library during the wee hours of the morning, a large pile of books around her. She looked very tired, as though she had spent much of the night in the dusty room. She collected the books she needed and slowly made her way over towards the Gryffindor Common Room. She clambered clumsily through the portrait, and up the stairs to her dormitory, where she promptly collapsed onto her bed, books still clutched in her arms.
When she woke up four hours later, she was very irritable indeed and snapped at both Parvati and Lavender for waking her up. They rolled their eyes, and made rather loud whispers about 'that time of the month.' Looking at her watch, Hermione was shocked to see how late it was; she ran to the lavatory to wash up and change into her clothes.
She raced to the Great Hall and threw herself into her usual seat between Harry and Ron. She noticed that Ron was picking at his food and looking very miserable. Striking up a lively conversation, she waited until Harry had left to ask Ginny something before nudging Ron in the ribs.
"How are you? You look awful, did you sleep at all last night?"
He looked up at her,
"Not much."
"There's always the next match, Ron. Don't worry about it. I'm sure you'll do wonderfully next time."
"Fat chance of that 'Mione, I'm about as good at Quidditch as you are at Chess."
"Don't say that Ron. You don't know that. It was just an off day."
"How about an off life."
Hermione's temper snapped, she was already cranky, and Ron refused to be comforted.
"Well, maybe if you practised harder, and stopped feeling sorry for yourself you'd get a little better!"
Ron stared at her, obviously confused and Hermione was proud of herself.
"Listen Ron, I saw your game and I know you can do better than that. So I've got a bit of a proposal for you."
"You have?"
"Yes, you give me the rest of our time at Hogwarts, any by the time that we graduate, there won't be any Quidditch team in England who wouldn't be proud to have you as their Keeper!"
Ron looked at her in disbelief.
"You really think that you could do that? Its impossible, there's no way in hell I'll ever be a professional Quidditch player. That game yesterday made it obvious-"
"- that you'll never win with that attitude. I saw you before the game and you were telling yourself that you were going to lose. And that's exactly what happened. You lost. Don't you see? It was your attitude that did it. Just let me try, and if it doesn't work out then at least you'll have the pride of knowing that you worked hard for something, and even if you're not the best Keeper, you'll be a lot better than you are now."
"Hey, that hurt Hermione!"
Hermione looked up, but saw he was grinning. She stuck out her right hand, and said,
"Is it a deal, Weasley?"
Ron gave her a calculating look before taking hers and gave it a firm shake.
"You bet your arse it is, Granger!"
"Ron! Language, you're a prefect!"
Ron just chuckled and Hermione noticed a few moments later that he was digging into his meal like a starving man. She smiled in spite of herself, it was good to hear Ron laugh.
-_-_-_-
Woohoo! Go Ron, Go Hermione, Go Me!
I know I'm slightly insane.
GO ME!
- Arynnl
