I'd like to say I feel very lucky that J.K. Rowling has created such a rich universe from which I might draw. The following story borrows many elements from that universe, including character names, places, and magical properties. In no way am I the owner or the custodian of the Harry Potter books or movies, I am an amateur writer who has no affiliation with any publisher or published author. This story was written for my own enjoyment, and just maybe the enjoyment of a few others.

MISCOMMUNICATION

"From infancy on, we are all spies; the shame is not this but that the secrets to be discovered are so paltry and few." - John Updike.

Chapter 1: The Eavesdrop

Ron's flat was modest but well furnished, though almost everything in it was the same violent shade of orange. Even after becoming the keeper for the Chudley Cannons, Ron continued to revere the team as though he were a young schoolboy. As tonight had been the last match of the season (the Cannons had gone down to the Wasps 160 to 130), he did not have any quidditch obligations for two whole months, when regular training sessions would begin. He had never liked living out of his trunk, but such was the life of a professional quidditch player, and he fully accepted the sacrifices he was called to make for his team. One of the biggest sacrifices being the time he could have spent with Hermione and Harry, and though he missed them during his travels, in his quidditch career he was realizing the only dream he had ever had.

Ron glanced around his living room, making sure everything was satisfyingly orange, as Hermione had threatened to replace everything in the flat one time before he left for France. He noticed that the orange throw pillows were askew and several large tomes sat open on the table--a clear sign that Hermione had been there recently. He hung his cloak and hat, and set off down the long hallway to the kitchen for a nosh, and, returning to his living room with two handfulls of chocolate cauldrons, he set about eating his first meal of the day. About halfway through his third cauldron, he heard voices coming from his and Hermione's bedroom, and suspected that Harry might be there too, though he was surprised and a little annoyed that they had not noticed his arrival. Grinning, he stealthily sidled up to the door, which was slightly ajar, and made to jump out and scare Harry and Hermione. But before he could fix an angry and offended look on his face, he heard his name and stopped in his tracks.

"Ron would want to know how you feel about it, even if he doesn't like it." Said Harry.

"Harry, I know you know Ron better than anyone, but I'm telling you, that is just not something I can drop on him that way." Said Hermione quietly, though she raised her voice above a whisper, and Ron had no trouble realizing that she and Harry were in disagreement about something to do with him.

"Look Mione, I'm serious, the longer you put this off, the worse you'll feel about it. Won't it be great to get it over with? Then you'll be free and clear." Said Harry exasperatedly. Ron could tell that Harry had said this to Hermione before, and Hermione sounded as though she had not yet listened.

"Would you want to do it that way Harry? So suddenly and unceremoniously?" Said Hermione. Ron had a funny feeling he should not be listening to this conversation, but since it directly concerned him, he could not tear himself away from the doorway.

"Well I wouldn't want to do it at all, especially since Ron's one of my best friends. But you're not going to spare anyone's feelings by letting your relationship continue this way. Think about Mrs. Weasley, she certainly expected the two of you to be married by now, so how can you string her along like this? You have to do it. It may be difficult, but Ron doesn't look like he's about to." It seemed to Ron that Harry was using the tone of explaining to Hermione something she already very well knew. Yet Ron was confused. What, he wondered, would Harry be urging Hermione to tell him, especially if it was something to do with their relationship. From the sound of it, Ron thought, Harry was accusing Hermione of being dishonest, and with a stab of horror, Ron wondered whether all those months in the air had finally taken their toll on his relationship with Hermione. "You know what it'll mean for us, Hermione, can't you at least think about me, even if you won't be honest about your own feelings?" Harry finished.

"Fine, then, if it'll make you happy I'll do it tomorrow. He hates surprises, and this will be his first night back in town, but enough is enough, all this ends tomorrow." Said Hermione determinedly, and Ron could take no more. He quickly retraced his steps to the living room, where he fumbled for his hat and cloak, and quietly let himself out of the flat.

Walking down the dimly light lane, Ron replayed everything he heard over and over, and came to the same conclusion each time: Hermione was going to ditch him. "Well then I've got to go," he said aloud, catching the attention of a passing Muggle, who averted his eyes and quickened his pace, "and mind your own business" spat Ron. He decided to go to the Burrow to visit with his parents, but he hoped to arrive after they went to bed, because he felt he could hardly stand a lecture from his mother about how little he appeared to be eating. He hailed the Knight Bus instead of apparating so that he didn't have to find something to do in the mean time. But after he took his seat on the bus, a tall burly wizard wearing jeans approached and sat down beside him. Before Ron could hide behind his Daily Prophet, the man stretched out his hand and spoke in an American accent.

"The name's Jack, nice to meet you. Say, I couldn't help notice you're wearing a Chudley Cannons hat. I don't really know much about the Cannons, but my editor's got me reporting on the English and Irish quidditch leagues, and I'm looking to highlight a team for my piece. So you seem like a proud Cannons fan, what do you think about their disappointing loss today?" The man eyed him greedily, and Ron could not help being reminded of Rita Skeeter. He wondered vaguely if all Americans were this nosey. Thinking better of flatly refusing to speak to the man, Ron decided to play along, as it was a long ride to London.

"Sure, well, my name's Ron Weasley, and I ought to tell you I'm the keeper of the Chudley Cannons, and I don't really have much to say." Said Ron. "I let in one goal, and their seeker got the snitch... that's about everything I can tell you about the match."

"Wow! You mean you're ON the Cannons? Excellent! Do you feel that your teammates could have done anything differently to win the match?" The man shot at Ron excitedly.

"Are you mad?" Asked Ron, "our chasers outscored the Wasps 130 to 10, and if there's something I've learned about seeking, it's that no matter how well you fly, the snitch doesn't always fly your way." Feeling a surge of loyalty for his now dejected seeker, and a wave of pride in his own performance, Ron continued. "And another thing, we lost Morris in the first ten minutes, so we were understrength coming out of the gate, but I was determined not to let a goal in. What else could I do? Go back in time and tell Morris to strengthen the padding charm on his helmet? Oh, sorry, Morris is one of our beaters..." And before he could stop himself, Ron treated Jack the reporter to a full account of the match, and he had quite forgotten about everything he overheard at home. As the Night bus lurched to a halt in Ottery-St.-Catchpole's deserted square, Jack extended his hand once more and hesitated briefly.

"Look, you seem to be a stand-up guy. I'll level with you--I'm not really interested in the Chudley Cannons. That is, I was sent to England to find evidence of corruption and cheating within the English league. But I'll tell you, after speaking to a number of players, I'm forced to conclude that you guys just like to fly. Sure, maybe a few penalties go uncalled, but at least here you play because you love the game. Back in the States all anyone cares about is which beater got dumped by his girlfriend and how much money they make." Ron felt a sharp pain in his stomach at the word 'dumped', but he ignored it with a grimmace.

"Yeah, sure, well it's my first night off in ages, and I have no idea what I'm going to do for the next few months, so if you'll excuse me..." Said Ron, politely, he hoped, and he climbed down from the bus.

"Hey, wait a minute, let me interview you. I'm picturing a big treatment on the life of a normal quidditch player. My readers may be interested to know they're not all pampered prima donnas."

"What do you call that?" Asked Ron, gesturing toward the bus and indicating their hour-long conversation about quidditch in England.

"Well, I can use some of it, but I want to know more about you, I already know plenty about quidditch." Said Jack. "Look, you said you don't have any plans, why don't you come to our office in New York, I'm sure you could use a vacation. We'll even spring for a hotel room." Jack stared down at Ron hopefully, and Ron considered his request, recalling once more his desire to get as far away from Hermione as he could. Feeling a bit odd but excited about the prospect of being the subject of an interview, but hoping to kill two birds with one stone, Ron nodded, and turned around to start his walk to the Burrow. "Great!" yelled Jack after him. "What do you say I meet you back here in a week?"

"Fine, see you then." Shouted Ron over his shoulder, and he grinned in spite of himself.

His week at the Burrow dragged on for what seemed like months. Neither his mother nor his father were ever at home, what with his dad's job at the ministry and his mother's frequent visits to make preparations for Ginny's wedding. So he spent most of his time reading the Muggle books his father bought, and in the evenings he went flying over the vast countryside. By the end of the week, he was almost glad to be leaving. After dinner with his parents, Bill, Fleur, Ginny, and her fiancé, Ron set off back to the village to meet Jack.

"I thought you might not show up." Said Jack, jumping up from his seat in front of the town chemist. "I hope you don't mind muggle transport, but my readers like to hear about all the vagaries of muggle existence, so I thought we'd chance a trip on an airplane." Ron laughingly nodded his assent and they proceeded to London to catch their flight.