Ron's POV


Sitting on the sidelines, hidden among shadows, I'm watching him. Some would remark on his grace and beauty while in flight. I find myself more inclined to pay attention to the slips, slides, and near misses.

The precision with which he rides, caring for little else than catching. That. Snitch. It does nothing to deter me from my worry. It wouldn't do to have me fretting, like most of the female population when Harry gets almost hurt. So that's why I'm here. Taking the time now to fret and worry and sweat and be tormented to no end.

I don't know what I'd do with myself if he wasn't there tomorrow. Just imagining it makes me cold inside. To lose him would be to lose a part of my soul. Three months ago I couldn't imagine being in the same room with him for more than a class period. Now, I try my best to grasp every possible moment I can to be in his presence.

He's floating down to the ground now, and he sees me. I know he does. His eyes drift past me every time I do this. Following him; watching him. But he never does acknowledge me. I suppose he knows I need this. Knows that without this, I probably couldn't even come to the games anymore; Harry and Hermione would certainly notice if that happened.