Ronald Weasley and the Armor of Gryffindor
"Serious sport has nothing to do with fair play. It is bound up with hatred, jealousy, boastfulness, disregard of all rules, and sadistic pleasure in witnessing violence: in other words it is war minus the shooting." -- George Orwell
Hermione was waiting for Ron the next morning when he came down. Harry had already gone down ahead with Ginny; Hermione seemed mystified that he'd managed to hack of Harry already. He wondered if he should wait for Lavender to come down, but Hermione said she was still showering. He hesitated, "Hermione, I'd said I'd go down with Lavender."
She flushed, "Well, of course, I wouldn't want to get in the way. If you would rather be with her..."
Ron shook his head. "I'm sure I'll see her down there. Besides, I've got to catch up with Harry. He needs to know about the first Quidditch practice, and try-outs. I'll have to catch up with her later."
She seemed mollified, and started to walk down. He followed her quickly, not wanting to risk raising her ire again.
Ron saw Harry and Ginny sitting together. He was sure that something was up now, and fairly sure that they'd rather he not say anything about it. Well, he'd already driven Harry far enough away; he could afford to eat breakfast without fighting any more battles right now.
He walked over to them, leaning between their heads, which were fairly close together.
"What do you want," Harry snapped.
"I just wanted to tell you that we're having Quidditch practice at 4am on Saturday."
"Four in the morning? Did they bring back Oliver?"
"No, worse. I'm afraid they've made me Captain."
"What?"
"You heard me. And since Malfoy's spread the word, they've booked all the time for the patch that I'm not in detention, at least for the next few weeks."
"That git," Ginny said. "I'm glad you finally told Harry."
"You knew?" Harry looked at her accusingly.
"Yes," Ginny admitted. "I didn't think it would take him this long to tell you about it, though. Forgive me for keeping it from you?"
"Of course," Harry said, looking deep into her eyes.
Ron felt like he needed to retch. "Well, whatever. Have a good day, I'm going to go get breakfast."
"Wait!" Ginny said, "There's something I need to give you. Even if you are an idiot." She reached into her bag, and pulled out a book. "Here. Charlie recommended this for you. Consider it an early Christmas present."
Ron looked down at the book. His first impulse was to worry that Ginny was taking lessons from Hermione, giving books for presents. As long as she didn't take direction from Fred and George, though, he was probably better off not teasing her over it.
The book was bound in wood, he noticed, a deep, vibrant, cherry, tied together with what liked like flexible straw. It was titled, "Keeping for Keeps", its title etched right into the wood.
Ginny waited until he'd taken that much in before speaking again. "Keep it hidden, will you? You're not supposed to have it."
"What?" Given Ginny's history with books, Ron was alarmed.
"Well, some of the tricks in there aren't exactly approved by the English Ministry. They're a little...forceful. Just keep it under wraps, okay?"
Ron nodded, wondering how much trouble a book could get him into, but he stuffed it into his bag anyway. He hoped that he would have time later to delve into it and figure out what was so special.
Thanking Ginny once again, he hurried over to where Hermione was sitting. It seemed like Harry was probably talking to him again, and Hermione seemed to have forgiven him for whatever he had done wrong this time. He wasn't going to bring it up, although he guessed it had something to do with Fleur, since she'd brought her up last night. Since Ron's brother Bill was still involved with Fleur, though, he wasn't sure what her problem had been.
Just as he sat down next to Hermione, he saw Lavender come in. She slowed to a stop when she saw him, and her face lost all its color. She turned, and ran back the way she came.
Ron couldn't believe that it was just him standing her up for breakfast that made her react so poorly. There must have been something else wrong; after all, what was so special about him that anyone would react so strongly? He was good at making Hermione run away angry, but he'd never thought he could extend that to anyone else, nor had he particularly wanted to. His vision lingered on the door for a few more seconds, before Hermione pulled him back to reality, asking him about his new homework assignments. He had shortly forgotten about Lavender entirely, as he and Hermione chatted happily about their assignments.
Ron didn't get a chance until that afternoon to pull out his new book, reading it instead of napping during History of Magic. Flipping it open, he saw that it included tons of exercises to get better at Quidditch. It wasn't limited to Keeping, although that was the focus -- there were also sections on Beating, Chasing, and Seeking. The exercises that it suggested looked like they would take several hours a day, and require the active help of someone else, if only so that they could call for help if a Bludger got him.
Ron could see why the exercises might be unpopular with officials; some of the Beating moves that were covered were designed to do permanent damage to the unfortunate target, while some of the Seeking exercises sought to teach using wandless magic to Disillusion the Snitch. Not all of them were so extreme, though, and he thought he could probably learn a bit from the book.
He was still reading the book when class ended and students started to filter out. He sighed, closing it, shoving it into his pack, and stood abruptly, colliding with Lavender. She dropped her books, sniffling. Her eyes looked red and irritated.
"Are you alright," he asked, as he bent down to help her pick up the books. She snatched them from her, and ran off, crying audibly.
"What's her problem?" Ron asked loudly, although he didn't really expect a response.
He got one anyway, from Hermione. "Are you entirely blind?" she asked.
He turned to her, and wasn't able to choke back his response. "Apparently so, Hermione. Would you like to tell me what's so completely, blindingly obvious that I can't see it?"
She snorted, and charged out of the room. Wonderful, he'd managed to keep on her good side for a record eight hours. At least Harry was still speaking to him. He looked around for him, and didn't see Harry anywhere; apparently he'd already filtered out of the class.
Ron hurried on his way from the class, trying to catch up with him. He hoped he wouldn't have to eat dinner alone. Harry was nowhere to be found, however. He went down to dinner anyway, and looked at the table. Hermione was eating with Colin and Neville, with no empty chairs near her. Harry wasn't here. Neither was Ginny. Lavender had a blank seat next to her, though. In fact, she had several blank seats near her -- she was sitting at the end of the table. Ron thought about it for a moment, and then decided to try to sit down next to her.
She didn't even notice him at first. He quietly put food on his plate, and started eating. After a few moments, her sniffles quieted down, and she looked up at him. "What are you doing here?"
He shrugged. "You looked like you were alone. I thought you might not mind some company."
She looked suddenly hopeful, and Ron realized that she really had taken his absence in the morning seriously. He hadn't expected that Lavender would react towards him that way...he had trouble believing that anyone would.
She started talking again, and Ron listened, or at least put on as excellent a show of listening as he ever had. When the time came for him to go to detention, he was almost sorry to leave; he hoped that she wouldn't be irked at his going. He preferred leaving on his own terms to Professor Kwikspell's reminder, though, so he finally stood up. "I'm sorry, I've got to get to detention. Will you be alright now?"
She nodded, "Yes...thanks for coming over. I really enjoyed talking with you."
"Me, too," he said. "I don't know how tomorrow's going to go yet, but I hope we'll run into each other." She laughed, and he remembered class. "Well, you know what I mean."
She giggled, and it didn't sound half-bad. Ron left, walking straight towards Professor Kwikspell, who was already on her way to find him. She looked pleased to see him, but she didn't say anything as she turned and marched towards her office, with him following.
She gestured towards a seat by her desk, and then pulled a pile of scrolls of the floors. "These are the galleys for some books that may be published by Kwikspell. You are to go through them and do a first pass at copy-editing them."
She pulled a book off of her desk, and flipped through it. "Here are the symbols you are to use to mark the errors." The page that she pointed at was covered with strange rune-like marks.
Ron looked up at her. "Shouldn't this be done by a professional?"
She smirked, "It seems somehow appropriate to have you work on these, Mister Weasley." She emphasized his last name. "Don't worry, a real editor will look at them when you're done. Do what you can before 11, and then return to your dormitory. I'll trust you to let yourself out."
Ron watched as she walked off. He couldn't figure her out. That seemed to be a mantra of his right now -- figuring any woman out was beyond him.
He picked up the first scroll, and opened it. The title jumped out at him, "How to Avoid Death Eaters, or How Not to Look Like a Muggle." If not exactly enchanting, at least it looked time consuming.
Ron had tremendous trouble staying awake, but managed to work through it. He knew that he would never make Auror if he couldn't get his Dark Arts Professor on his good side.
As Ron was leaving, he heard voices down the corridor. He had no choice but to go that way, but he was leary of running into anyone who was in the corridors at this time of night. As he approached, he started to be able to make out some of the words.
"Terry," a young woman's voice was saying, "We need to get back to our dormitories."
"I know, I know," Terry Boot responded, exasperated, "but we should try to get in at least some practice tonight."
"But Terry," she whinged, "What if we get caught?"
"We'll make something up," he said. His voice was echoing differently now. Ron risked peeking around a corner, and saw them entering an unused classroom. He wondered what they were up to, and it occurred to him that it would be simple enough for him to find out. He was a prefect, after all, and he wasn't officially out of bounds right now.
He crept towards the room, but the door was shut now. He started to reach out for it, and then froze. Whatever Terry was up to, he doubted it had anything to do with the Dark Lord or his minions. Ron himself had scarcely been a model of following rules, and he didn't feel that he had much room to criticize anyone else. He knew that he was a Prefect, but it seemed petty to him to be going after students for what sounded like something harmless. Even if it was Terry.
Ron withdrew his hand, and started walking softly back to his dormitory. He gave the password with a grimace, "Orange Crush". It was something that Finnegan had come up with, he'd heard, based on something Muggles drank. The Fat Lady woke from her snoozing just enough to motion him in, and he made his way swiftly up to his bed. He waved to a few Gryffindors in the common room on the way, but he didn't see Hermione or Harry there.
Harry's curtains were already drawn when Ron got up to the dormitory room. Ron yanked his boots off, changed into a dressing gown, and was soon sound asleep.
The rest of the week passed smoothly, if not swiftly. Hermione didn't talk with him, but he heard through Harry that she'd said she might come to Quidditch Practice on Saturday morning. He hoped that she would give him a chance to smooth things over. He spent some time with Lavender, but tried not to make it every meal. He felt uncomfortably like he was her only friend, and he wasn't sure if he really considered her as one of his friends, or just someone he could eat a meal with. There was something missing, probably the difference between someone he had giggled with and someone who he had faced death with.
When Saturday morning came, Ron was feeling nervous. This would be his first practice session as captain, and he didn't want to mess it up. When he came downstairs, he was surprised to see Hermione sitting there. She looked groggy, her hair more mussed than usual. She was bleary-eyed, and her complexion looked a little ghastly. He realized just how much he'd missed her.
"Are you coming down?" Ron asked, and cursed himself for not saying something more conciliatory.
"Why? Don't you want me to?" Her tone was biting.
"I'd love for you to come," he answered, trying to sound nice. "I'm just surprised you're coming, that's all. I mean, it seems like you've spent the whole week mad at me."
"I'm not sure why I'm coming, either," she said crossly. "I suppose I thought Harry should have someone cheering for him. Other than Ginny, I mean."
Ron flushed. Apparently, the fact that she wasn't completely over her crush hadn't escaped Hermione either. That wasn't a big surprise, though. She was good at noticing things like that. "Well, I should probably head down there. Harry wasn't in his bed, so he must have beat me to the pitch. I don't suppose you'd walk with me?" He asked hopefully.
"If you'd like," she said, still not looking happy with him.
They walked down the stairs in silence. "Umm, did you see anyone else from the team?" Ron asked.
"Everyone but Harry and Ginny," Hermione answered.
The silence was uncomfortable. Ron yawned, and realized he was stretching out the yawn to fill the void. This was ridiculous. How could they be best friends if they spent a week not talking?
"Hermione," he started.
"Yes?" Hermione sounded unhappy.
Ron cringed inside. Whatever he said next would probably backfire. He almost couldn't see a reason to say anything more.
She stopped, hands on her hips. "What, Ron? What is it?" Well, he was stuck. She probably wouldn't let him get away without saying anything, now that he'd broken the silence.
"I...I just wondered if you'd take pity on me and tell me what I did, so I wouldn't do it again. Maybe it's my fault, but I just can't understand how you girls can just decide to hate someone and not let them know why." Ron realized he'd gone too far.
Hermione looked away from him. Her voice was cracking from exhaustion. Being up at four in the morning was putting a stress on her, too. "There are some things that shouldn't be said," she expressed, "because they're impossible to take back. Besides, you're late for practice."
Ron thought about this for a moment. He knew that the Quidditch team was probably waiting for him; then he scratched that thought. Harry and Ginny were there, they were probably fine. "Well, Ginny's probably running everything without me anyway. If you don't want to tell me, I won't make you, but I'll take the time to listen."
She looked back in him, and the look in her eyes almost killed him. It was a look of disbelief, as if he'd said something that shocked her. Was it really that rare that he said something kind or sensitive? He blushed -- maybe it was.
Ron reached out his hand to her, palm up, and she took his arm like it was a lifeline, not just holding his hand, but clasping his whole arm. He chalked it up to her exhaustion, but figured maybe he had finally done something right.
"Let's just get down to practice," she said. Ron nodded, and they walked down together.
As he'd expected, Ginny and Harry had already started practice. They were both chasing the Snitch, with the other players taking turns chasing and keeping. No one had released the Bludgers, which was probably for the best, given everyone's exhaustion.
He stood at the foot of the patch watching them for a few minutes, his arm still captive to Hermione. It looked like Harry and Ginny were still in good flying form, which he expected, given how much they practiced over the summer.
"Bloody amazing, aren't they," a course voice came from behind Ron. Behind, and several feet up. He jumped, and Hermione let go of his arm suddenly, moving to the side.
Ron turned around, "Hagrid, you could have given me a heart attack."
"I've got sump'in for that, you know. Just a smidgen of Skrewt venom will get the heart going right away. I knew they'd do sump'in useful, if they just got a chance," Hagrid was beaming.
Hermione moved in to give Hagrid a big hug. Ron was jealous; his arm felt like it was missing something. Harry and Ginny came to a landing next to them, showing that they hadn't been totally oblivious to everything but the Snitch.
"Hagrid!" Harry shouted, and he, too, threw his arms around him. Ron stood back. He was glad to see Hagrid, but he wasn't really into hugging large men in public.
Hagrid's clothes looked a little haggard, and his face was worn. Hermione seemed to pick up on it first. "Are you alright, Hagrid? You look like you've been through a lot."
He shifted from one foot to the other, looking down uncomfortably. "Well, I don't know as I ought to bother you with anything. It ain't much, really."
"It isn't about, well, you know who, is it Hagrid?" Harry asked softly.
"Now what would he be doing in our forest," Hagrid demanded. "Did you hear something from Albus? I thought he was keeping to the cities, he was, afraid to come by the school."
Harry looked confused. "No, I don't mean Voldemort." Ron, Ginny, Hagrid, and the airborne team members all winced in tandem. "I mean, well, you know who, not You-Know-Who, if you know what I mean."
Hagrid looked really confused. Ron didn't blame him; it was far too early in the morning for word games with the gentle giant. "I can't say as I understand what you mean, Harry, but the forest is nothing for you to be concerned about."
"I mean," Harry whispered, "Is it your brother again?"
Hagrid chuckled, "No, he's fine. It's sump'tin else. Aragog, well, I reckon she's just finally passed away, and her children are getting a little out of hand. Nothing I can't handle, and if they give a few centaurs some trouble, that's just what they get for not respecting them that they should."
"Well, that's alright then," Ron replied. "I can't see them getting anything that they don't deserve, either of them. Those spiders are just awful."
"Well, to each their own," Hagrid replied, "For my part, I'd rather them than the centaurs. At least they don't pretend to be better than us."
The sun finally started to appear on the horizon, and Ron realized that if he was to get in any practice, he would have to start soon. "Hagrid, it's great seeing you, but would you mind if I got into the air?"
"No, that's alright. Can I talk with Harry for a minute, though?"
"Sure," Ron said magnanimously. "I'll need Ginny, but you can have Harry."
Ginny looked at him contemptuously, but rose into the sky on her broom anyway. Ron jumped his broom, and looked at Hermione. "I'll be back down soon. Will you sit with me at breakfast?"
She nodded, looking almost bashful, and waved once as he get into the air.
Quidditch practice was wonderful. The feeling of air rushing through his hair, the confidence he'd earned in blocking the Quaffle, and most importantly, the feeling that there were rules up here. He wished that there was a rule book for people, especially for women. He might stand a chance that way.
Ron looked over towards the stands, and frowned. He saw someone else there. They seemed to notice his attention, standing and running away as soon as he glanced in their direction. He started to dive towards the stands, but didn't get there in time to see more than the person's retreating back. In the early morning light, it looked like she had light hair, but he wasn't certain. He was at a loss as to who might be watching them at this time -- he couldn't think of any woman that would be willing to come out here and watch at this time of morning, other than Hermione, of course. But then, he thought, he didn't have that rulebook for women.
Maybe he would ask Hermione. Or maybe not -- she might think that he should already know. He scratched his head. He was beginning to see what Dumbledore had meant, he thought. If you spent all your time wondering about the way other people would react, you'd never get a chance to actually do anything.
The Quaffle whizzed by his head, and he cursed, flying back into action. When practice was over, he'd have to start worrying about the rest of the term. He'd have to make sure that Harry wasn't ready to go off half-cocked. He'd have to figure out if he should talk to Hermione or not. He might even have to think about what Hagrid had said. All of those things, he'd have to face. For now, though, he would just fly. The rest, the rules that he couldn't understand, they'd just have to wait.