Ron came back to the present with a start. The voices around him finally started registering in his brain. He was hearing a few first- and second-years talking about trying out for the Quidditch team next year. There would be four vacancies by then -- the Seeker, Keeper and the two Beaters, currently occupied by Harry, himself, Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan. The younger students were also talking about how difficult it would be to find replacements for Harry and... himself? He could understand the part about Harry being quite irreplaceable, as he had been Seeker since first year, and had almost always caught the Snitch. But him? Was he really that good? He'd never even played half as long as Harry had. In fact, during his fifth year, there had been a short period when he wasn't even sure whether he would try out for Keeper at all. Only one person had managed to shake his determination to be part of the house team -- Hermione.
He started reminiscing again as he sprawled comfortably in his armchair. He recalled the time Quidditch tryouts were held in fifth year: third Saturday from the start of term. Back then, he never thought he could look forward to, and be terrified of, anything at the same time. He loved the game and wanted nothing more than to be a part of it. But what if he wasn't good enough to play for the house team? He tried very hard not to think about that. Harry was a natural, and Krum was... Krum. Nothing would have given him greater pleasure than to join his best friend in playing his favourite sport, and show Krum that not all the talent on the Quidditch field belonged to duck-footed gits like him.
But then, there was Hermione. She had cornered him earlier and asked him whether he would be trying out for Keeper. For the space of two seconds, he was at a loss about what sort of answer to give her. He wasn't sure if she would encourage him, or lecture him about the evils of trying to do too much at once. Finally, he told her about his plans, and she simply wished him good luck. He didn't know whether to feel relieved or angry. She wished him good luck -- did it mean that she believed he would make the team? Or did it mean that she thought he would need all the luck he could get? She didn't give him a lecture -- did it mean that she thought he could handle Prefect duties and Quidditch practice just fine? Or did it mean that she didn't care about what he did with himself? That girl -- yeah, yeah, she IS a girl, all right? Does a man have to be haunted by one mistake for the rest of his life? Er, anyway, that girl was going to lead him to the brink of insanity, then smile sweetly at him as she pushed him over the edge.
Suddenly, something occurred to him to distract him from thoughts of Hermione. It was very important and he had brooded over it for quite some time, or else he wouldn't set aside his fantasies about grabbing Hermione as she walked past him, pinning her against the wall (any wall, or maybe a door,... any solid object that would support their combined weight would do), and snogging her senseless... Right. Something very important, was it? Oh, yeah. Harry. He needed to talk to Fred and George about Harry. Luckily, the twins were coming towards him. He had to get rid of this concern that was weighing down on his chest before he forgot and started imagining that Hermione lying on top of him was the reason for the heavy feeling in his... He had to shake himself a few times before the horndog in him was sufficiently subdued.
"Well, if it isn't ickle baby Pinhead Ronniekins," Fred cooed.
"Ah, yes, mum's pride and joy, and Gryffindor's resident prat," George counter-cooed.
"Shut it, you two. I need to talk to you about something very important."
"Ooh, a matter of utmost importance, is it? Well, I think I may be aware of your predicament. Let me give you a piece of advice: sometimes one way to tell whether it's a girl is when it has long hair and wears a skirt. But then again, some long-haired blokes wear kilts, so you have to be careful about that. George, you remember that time when Bill was dating that bonny Scottish lassie?"
"How can I forget? I took one look at Bill wearing that kilt, and I was scarred for life."
"WILL YOU TWO SHUT UP?!"
"All right, all right. We just wanted to brighten up your day, considering your face is as crumpled as yesterday's Potions homework."
"Yeah, we didn't know you'd been severely beaten by a grumpy stick."
"If you prats are done spouting bollocks now..."
"Okay, okay, settle down. So, what is it you want to tell us?" Fred asked.
Uh-oh. How was he going to say this? He stared down at the carpet as if he would be able to read the right words there.
George's voice broke the silence. "Well? We know the carpet looks a bit worn out, but then again, it must be at least a hundred years old. Is there anything else you want to point our attention to? Maybe the tapestry over there?"
"Well,... you... you're..."
"Gred and Forge..."
"The handsomest men in Gryffindor..."
"Stop that! What I meant was... You're... You have..."
"Charm..."
"Wit..."
"Intelligence..."
"A sense of humor unlike any other in the wizarding world..."
"Spankingly good backsides..."
"Not to mention, er, assets, that would make any girl, ahem, applaud..."
Ron took two steps, came face-to-face with the wall, and promptly started banging his head against it. The twins grabbed him and led him to the common room sofa.
"Sorry, we didn't know it was that important."
"Look, just say it. We promise not to make fun of you. Go on."
He took a deep breath. Then he started speaking in a low voice. "You're going to choose a new team Captain today." The twins nodded. "And you're going to choose Harry." They nodded again. "Okay. You're making a good choice, but I'm not sure Harry will thank you for it." The twins sported an identical look of surprise. "Don't get me wrong. I'm not saying Harry won't be able to handle it. Quite the opposite: he'll handle it if it kills him. And that's what I'm worried about. He's got a lot on his mind already. You haven't shared a room with him this summer, so you don't know. He hardly sleeps -- probably dreams about Cedric and Voldemort all the time."
The twins cringed. "Blimey! You -- you said his... name!"
"When did you... How did you..."
"When I found out what happened to Harry after the Third Task, I was angry. Voldemort almost broke him. I know he's told me less than what really happened at that graveyard, but what he told me was enough. I swore to myself to give him all the help he would need, whether he wanted it or not. He needs to be reminded that there are other things in his life aside from Voldemort's shadow. But he doesn't need the whole world dumping its burden on his shoulders. Can't you see? If you make him Captain, he's going to have to carry every Gryffindor on his back. He'll take the blame for every mistake, it'll be his fault if the team doesn't perform as expected. And when Hufflepuff announces that Krum is their Seeker and Captain--"
"What makes you think they'll do that?"
"C'mon, Fred, what better substitute for Cedric could Hufflepuff ever hope for?"
"Isn't there any rule against a professional Quidditch player joining a house team?"
"I would have told you by now if I'd found anything. I don't think anything like this has ever happened before. I know it's unfair, George, but Krum IS a student, and the rules only say that a team member has to be a student. Anyway, with that kind of competition, Harry will be under a lot of pressure."
"All right, we see your point. But what can we do about it? We've already decided it's going to be Harry, since we'll be leaving school and all."
"And it's not as if anyone of us wants to be Captain all by their lonesome."
"Well, then, there you have it. Choose a co-captain so Harry won't have to do it alone. Who's got the best head for strategy among you? Angelina?"
"Yeah," Fred and George agreed.
"Then make her Harry's co-captain. It'll work out fine, don't you see? Harry needs this year to ease into it, and Angelina being there will lessen his worries. I expect she can make you two toe the line. That alone will prevent Harry from having a huge headache." He ducked to avoid the pillows flung by the twins. "And when you leave school, Krum will be gone, too, so there won't be any duck-footed gits left who'll Wronski-Feint him to death. What do you say?"
The twins regarded him for a moment. "Why, ickle Ronniekins! You... you're a MAN now!" Fred cooed again.
"Who would've thought that pinhead badge would do wonders for your personality?" George counter-cooed.
"ARE YOU GOING TO DO IT OR NOT?!"
"Fine, fine, we'll do it. Take it easy. You're going to rip your boxers in half if you keep yelling like that."
"We'll do it, don't worry. You have our word. Hey, don't give me that look! All right, all right, I'm uncrossing my fingers where you can see them. There! Satisfied?"
He gave a huge sigh of relief. "Good. Thanks. Do me another favour, okay? Don't tell Harry what I told you."
The twins thumped him on the back. "You're a good friend, Ron."
"The best. You know Harry. Not many people do."
He returned their thumps. "Go on with you. You'll be late for your meeting."
"You're still going to try out for Keeper on Saturday, aren't you?"
"Yeah."
"You're going to get it."
"You're sure about that?"
"We've seen your competition. You'll blow them away."
"Mind you, we can't vote, 'cause you're trying out. But the others are nutters if they don't pick you."
"That's good to know. Now, get out of here before the others hunt me down for making you late."
"We're always late--"
"Except for meals, of course--"
"Unless it's something Charlie cooked."
"Oh, yeah. Remember that stew he made? The one that looked like a potful of bogies?" They were still snickering as they walked out through the portrait hole.
After the twins left, he moved to a quiet corner of the common room and started doing his homework, or at least tried to. Soon, he was overrun by first years asking him all sorts of questions on Charms and Potions. He answered them as well as he could, startled that he remembered anything at all about his past lessons. He also struggled to maintain the appearance of doing schoolwork, to set an example, of course, and after one hour, he was surprised to find that he had finished his History of Magic essay. He was moving on to his Herbology homework when the portrait hole opened, and Harry walked in.
"Hi, Harry," the first years chorused.
"Er, hello," Harry answered, somewhat shyly. After all this time, and despite his fame, Harry remained a bit aloof and wary when people tried to get close to him. "Listen, can I talk to Ron for a minute?"
"That means shoo, you lot," Ron chuckled. After a few groans and some scattered whining, the first years got up and moved to the other side of the room.
"What is it, Harry? Anything bad happen?"
"No, nothing bad, not really. It's just... Ron, they made me co-captain with Angelina."
"That's great!"
"But I don't know anything about Quidditch strategy! And the first match will be a month from Saturday. How can I learn Quidditch strategy in a month's time?!"
"Take it easy. First of all, you've been playing Quidditch for three years, so at least you already know the rules of the game. Er, you do, don't you?" He just couldn't help teasing Harry, seeing the look of panic on his friend's face. Harry threw a piece of parchment at him, smiling as he did so.
Ron smiled back. "Kidding, mate. What I mean is, you already know what you can and can't do. Strategy is just the next step in playing Quidditch. It's all about finding a way of winning the game while trying to get as close to what you're not supposed to do without actually doing it."
"Huh?"
"Let me put it this way: Angelina will be there to help you, so don't snap the elastic on your boxers worrying about it."
Harry reached out to cuff him playfully. "Wish you're there to help me."
Ron turned serious. "I'll do my best."
"So you're really going to try out on Saturday?"
"Yeah."
"What did Hermione say about it?"
"She said 'good luck.'"
"That's it?"
"Yeah."
"No lecture?"
"Nope."
"Was she sick when you told her?"
"She looked fine to me at the time. Why? Did she say something to you about it?"
"Er..." Harry started to fidget.
"Out with it, Potter. You can't hide behind that co-captain bollocks. What did Hermione tell you about my trying out for Keeper?"
"Well, it's... she meant it in a good way... she was just worried, you know..."
"Oh, I see. She thinks I couldn't handle being a Prefect and playing Quidditch at the same time?"
"No, no,... not that you couldn't handle it... just -- just that you might try to do too much at once, and get hurt or sick or something."
"Same difference."
"Ron --"
"Guess I deserved that."
"What?!"
"If I hadn't been a stupid, irresponsible, immature prat all these years, she'd probably believe in me."
"Ron, listen to me. Hermione believes in you. She really does. She just tends to... worry to death, that's all. And she's worried to death about you. Worried about what you'll do when you make the team. Worried about what you'd do if you don't make the team. Worried about you getting hurt when you play. Worried about how you'd feel if you don't get hurt because you're not playing. You know, the usual stuff."
"Yeah, that would be about as close to 'usual' as Hermione can get. So, what did you tell her when she talked really fast about all of this?"
"How did you know she talked really fast?"
"Mate, it's Hermione. Just make her recite something she's memorized, and she'll leave the Hogwarts Express behind." They cackled like madmen.
"So, what did you tell her?" Ron demanded after they stopped laughing at last.
Harry wiped away the tears that came from laughing too hard before answering. "I told her, well, not to worry, that you'll be fine, and that she should talk to you about it instead of me."
"And what did she say?"
"She said, and I quote, 'if I can talk to Ron about anything without the two of us getting into an argument, I'll eat a whole box of Cockroach Clusters everyday for a week.'"
"Harry, please tell me you took her up on that."
"Er,... sorry, Ron. The look in her eyes sent chills down my spine."
"Coward." They started cackling again.
Saturday morning was cold and cloudy, becoming cold and rainy by the time Quidditch tryouts were supposed to start. Ron had been right: Hufflepuff canceled reservations on the Quidditch field after Gryffindor's tryouts, because Krum had finally been persuaded to join the house team as Seeker. It didn't surprise Ron that Krum's teammates made him Captain during their first meeting. When he first heard about it, he was furious. Krum was already a professional Quidditch player; he shouldn't have joined the Hufflepuff team even if they pleaded with him on bended knee. There should've been rules on that. The git probably wanted to wipe the Quidditch field with the Gryffindor team's arses. Or maybe just his arse, that is, if he made the team. Ha. That idiot probably thought Hermione would be impressed with a great professional player like him doing his house team a favour and playing against little boys, and then acting all apologetic whenever Hufflepuff won. But then... what did Hermione have to do with Krum playing Quidditch for Hufflepuff? She wouldn't have told him to do that, would she? Nope. Knowing her, she probably would have told him that he'd be giving his house team an unfair advantage. He was probably just trying to fit in. Oh, damn it all! The thought of possibly playing against Krum was making his heart pound painfully.
He walked downstairs, nervously clutching the handle of his broom. It was another hand-me-down: his mother's old school broom, a Silver Arrow. He had spent most of his summer afternoons rebuilding and re-charming it, with his dad helping whenever he could (which wasn't often), and with several owls' worth of advice from Charlie. He had been quite satisfied with it when he'd finished, particularly when Madam Hooch said he did an outstanding job with it when he had her test it for compliance with the rules. But now, it seemed flimsy and clumsy-looking, especially beside Harry's Firebolt. He sighed. It would just have to do, wouldn't it?
He passed through the Great Hall on the way to the Quidditch field, glancing at the students who sat back, sipping hot chocolate, torn between staying indoors and braving the cold and rain to watch the tryouts. He spotted Hermione sitting at the far end of the Gryffindor table, talking to... Krum. Great. Just what he needed to sustain him during the tryouts: the mental image of his best friend and that duck-footed git... Oh, hell! He turned away. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Hermione saw him and jumped from her seat. He wrenched the entrance doors open and stepped outside. He sprinted down the steps two at a time so she would know that he didn't want to talk, and pretended not to hear her when she called out his name. As he walked out towards the Quidditch field, gusts of wind drove the rain until it became a diagonal deluge that felt like burning-cold needles. He groaned. This was going to be a nightmare.
He paused for a moment to register the feel of his soaking robes clinging awkwardly to him. He would have to factor in the extra weight of his wet clothes, aside from the wind and rain, while he tried to intercept the Quaffle and dodge the Bludgers. As he stood there, someone ran into him.
"Ron! There you are! Didn't you hear me calling? I've been chasing you halfway across the grounds!" Hermione panted.
"Why? Anything wrong? Did you want something? Maybe you should have waited till after tryouts. Look at you, you're dripping wet, and your teeth are chattering." He tried his best to forget that nasty image of her and Krum still lingering inside his head. After all, she ran through the rain to talk to him.
"I just -- I wanted to wish you good luck." Even through the haze, he could see her blushing.
He was a bit surprised at that. "You already did, when I told you I was going to try out. Don't you remember?"
"Well, yeah. But I -- I wanted to -- do it again. N-not that you need it, but... well, since it's raining--"
"I know, it never hurts to have more luck, right?"
"Erm, yeah."
"So..."
"So... Good luck, Ron." She held out her hand.
"Thanks, 'Mione." He took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. Their eyes met, and for a few seconds, he felt warm and dry again. He started to let go of her hand, but she kept his hand in her grip.
"Er, 'Mione, I should go now. Don't want to be late."
"Oh, right." She let go, and he felt the rain and wind again.
He patted her shoulder. "You should go back inside and get out of those wet clothes."
"Oh,... I suppose you're right." He felt as though she had hoped for something from him, and seemed disappointed that he didn't give it to her. But how was he supposed to give her something if he didn't know exactly what it was? Just great. All she needed to do right now was to smile sweetly at him and give him a little push...
He mentally shook himself. "Well, I'd better go," he said as he smiled at her. He started to walk away when she called out, "Ron?"
"Yeah?" He turned back to face her.
"May I watch you?"
"Eh? B-but it's raining! You could catch a cold or something, sitting out there."
"Please?"
"I -- but... are you sure you want to?"
"Yes. But if you think I'll ruin your concentration or something, then I won't."
"Well, it's not that you'll ruin--"
"Then I can watch?"
He sighed. So that's what she wanted. Why didn't she say so in the first place? "C'mon, then." He took her hand again, and they started running towards the Quidditch field.
"Let's find you some shelter," he yelled over the downpour. "Or maybe we can fix something up. You do know you're barking mad, don't you? Probably the only one who's nutters enough to--"
His voice died in his throat. The stands were packed with Gryffindor first-, second- and third-years, waving a banner that read "GOOD LUCK, RON!" with each letter flashing a different colour.
He turned to her in shock. "You -- you planned this?!"
"It was their idea. I only helped a little." She was beaming at him.
He shook his head. "Barking mad, all of you."
"Whatever," she chuckled.
"Thanks, 'Mione."
"After all the trouble we went through, you'd better make the team!" Before he could even blink, she threw her arms around him and gave him a fierce squeeze, then ran to the stands. He smiled and gave a small wave to the watching students, and then joined the others who were going to try out.
His competition consisted of only two other students: a third-year girl built along the lines of Millicent Bulstrode (a Slytherin student in his year, who grew even squatter as time went on), and a lanky sixth-year whom he recognized only by sight. Madam Hooch motioned them over to the middle of the field and explained what was going to happen. It seemed simple enough: the three Chasers had ten minutes to try and score against them, while they tried to dodge the Bludgers pelted towards them by the Beaters. They drew lots: he was first. Just then, the wind blew harder, and the rain poured as though giants were wringing the clouds. Great. He would either drown while up in the air, or take a Bludger to the head even before he could see it coming.
As he flew into position in front of the hoops, he watched Angelina, Katie and Alicia as they moved into an offensive formation. He knew that years of practice in this kind of weather, driven by a maniacal Oliver Wood, had given the three Chasers an enormous advantage over him. He, on the other hand, struggled against sudden gusts of wind just to keep a steady position. The Chasers were hurtling closer and closer. Right. This is it.
The Chasers passed around the Quaffle so fast that it blurred in the rain. He followed the pattern they started: left, center, right, center, left, then skipping center to go back to left, then center, left, right. As they drew nearer, he got ready. When Katie finally threw the Quaffle towards the right hoop, he was able to block it with ease. Again, he quickly blocked Alicia's attempt to score through the center hoop, while noting that Fred and George were getting ready to aim the Bludgers at him. Just as George pelted one Bludger towards him, Angelina threw the Quaffle towards the left hoop. Thinking quickly, Ron aimed his broom handle downwards and barrel-rolled towards the Quaffle. His first roll saved him from the incoming Bludger. The second roll allowed him to wrap his long fingers around the Quaffle, while the third roll was... just for fun. He almost laughed aloud.
He flew back into position, throwing his head back to flick away his wet hair from his eyes. The ten minutes were almost up, but there was time for one last attempt. Angelina threw the Quaffle to Alicia, and she flew towards the right hoop at her top speed. He followed her with his eyes and moved an inch or two towards the right hoop, but felt that it would be too easy if she did try to score. Suddenly, Alicia passed to Katie, who was positioned in front of the center hoop, and she immediately threw the Quaffle back to Angelina. As she attempted to score through the left hoop, both Bludgers came hurtling towards the goals. Ron traced a gigantic "W" in the air as he dodged the first Bludger, caught the Quaffle, and ducked from the other Bludger. Madam Hooch blew her whistle. His tryout was over.
He glided back towards the ground to the cheers of the watching crowd. He touched down on the edge of the field near the stands, got off his broom and lay down on the ground, arms and legs sprawled out, letting the rain try and drown him if it dared. But he knew nothing could touch him today. He gave the tryouts his best effort. He was content. He closed his eyes and let the rain wash over him, until someone kneeled beside him, grabbed his shoulder and shook him.
"Ron! Ron! Are you all right?!" Hermione screamed.
He opened his eyes, shielding them from the rain with one hand. He smiled his widest smile. "Never better!" he shouted back. He sat up. Then, simply because he couldn't resist the look of pure joy on her face, he threw his arms around her and started laughing. She hugged him back and started laughing, too. He lost track of time after that -- they could have hugged and laughed for three weeks straight, for all he knew. Not that that was bad. Oh, no, not bad at all. In fact, that would have been -- bloody amazing.
They were still hugging and laughing out in the rain when Madam Hooch and the rest of the team came over to tell him that he was the new Keeper.