C'est moi! oui, oui oui!

Special thanks to Hiscefit, Solfire and Genetic Island (who's is a very talented author, by the way- I suggest you go check her out)

Sorry for the lack of updates, my only excuse is that both of us are at 6th from, and I am doing art and design. If you have ever done A-level art and design you will realise that current child labour laws go straight out of the window on that course, and hence my writing time is limited.

Aaaaanyway, here is the fifth installment of our Literary Baby. Hope you like! As always, don't forget to review!

Chapter 5

In which Ron gets an ego boost

Sometimes I wonder why on Earth I bother being such a nice bloke.

I mean, really. Did I laugh when Malfoy broke Harry's nose? No. Did I openly mock his Malfoy-is-a-Death Eater theory? No, no I did not. Well… maybe just a little bit. But mainly, I was, y'know, a thoroughly loyal and supportive friend and all that.

And what about Hermione? Have I not stood by her weird and obsessive book fetish these six long years? Yes. I have. And only PARTLY because I needed her help to pass my exams.

You would think, wouldn't you, after all this loyalty and nobleness on my part, I would get something back. You know, like I would have the heavens shining down upon me; showering me with blessings and suchlike. Or Hogwarts would get some hot French girls on foreign study programmes or something. Anything.

Oh no.

Once again, the gods have failed me. Fate has fallen short.

Foolish me, I actually thought that Sixth Year would be good. Perhaps even a little fun at a stretch. Lots of free periods to laze around in the common room and feel important.

You know what I have to do in my free lessons? That's right, study. Work on the almost obscene amount of Homework they pile on us. And one divine cock up evidently follows another, because surely, if karma is really all it's cracked up to be, it would be ME who deserved to win the cool little bottle of Liquid Luck after our first potions lesson, what with all my good deeds. But oh no. It wasn't me. It wasn't even Hermione.

Because SOMEONE just happened to be lucky enough to be given a book that a genius had written in, and is hence the perfect way to make potions.

And to top it all off nicely, is it ME who gets the cool old Potions book with the best method written in the margins?

Don't be so stupid.

I got the extra special PUKED on book. Harry-sometimes-being-friends-with-him-is-such-a-bitch-Potter was the one with O Sacred Book.

To be fair, I am not sure how much of a blessing having that book would be. After all, my limited status might be even more diminished if I had suddenly reached prodigy level at Potions and had Slughorn practically licking my arse and begging me to do him sexual favours, which I swear is what Harry is in for if Slughorn falls any more in love with him. And Harry DID say he would share the book with me, despite the fact I can't read the illegible scrawl anyway. Which was alright of him.

It now appears that I am in fact the only one of my friends who is crap at Potions. Hermione already has Slughorn at her beck and call for being such a swot. She knew EVERY SINGLE Potion he showed us from NEWT level! Then she went all smirky and giggly 'cos apparently Harry told Slughorn how clever she was. Dunno why. I mean, she obviously is really smart, I could have told him that.

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Oh for goodness SAKE.

There we were, at breakfast, having a perfectly WONDERFUL conversation about how much Care of Magical Creatures sucked, and about how Hagrid needs to take some Hormone pills or something to stop him having such girly strops at us for hating the stupid subject (it was actually only me who said about the hormone pills. Only, I didn't really say it. I just, well. Thought it.)

Anyway, the conversation turns to Quidditch. A perfectly delightful subject, I'm sure you'll agree.

But no.

Because then THIS happened.

Me: (eats kipper)

Harry: Quidditch trials might take all morning, the number of people who've applied. I dunno why the team's so popular all of a sudden.

Me: (continues eating kipper)

Hermione: Oh come on Harry; it's not Quidditch that's popular, it's you! You've never been more interesting, and frankly, you've never been more fanciable.

Me: (chokes on Kipper)

Hermione: (glares at me, as if it was ME who just started FLIRTING with her best friend. I mean, bloody hell why doesn't she just stick her TONGUE down his throat already?)

Hermione: Blah blah blah, you are the Chosen One blah blah fought Voldemort blah blah so brave blah etc etc.

Harry: (looks humiliated)

Hermione: You've been so persecuted through all that blah di blah, you can still see where evil teacher made you write with your blood, etc, etc.

Me: Look at me scars where the brains attacked me! (I mean, really, BRAINS attacked me! Surely I deserve some bravery credit as well? I'm sure Harry would have agreed with me if he hadn't been so busy looking embarrassed)

Hermione: And it doesn't hurt that you've grown about a foot over the summer, either.

Me: I'm tall.

I AM tall. I'm incredibly tall. Way taller than Harry, despite the fact that evidently he is so much more attractive than me.

Harry: (still looking dumb and red)

Well.

….

….

Well.

I'm just glad ONE of us managed to retain some dignity.

I really hate my life.

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Merlin, I LOVE my life.

You, of honoured one, are looking straight at the BRAND NEW GRYFFINDOR QUIDDITCH TEAM GOAL-KEEPER!

Yes, yes, you may bow down to me. I did, in fact, kick arse.

I saved ALL FIVE GOALS! Yes, really. All five. It was actually really unexpected. See, I do have a tendency to become…how shall I put this…the smallest, tiniest bit nervous before playing Quidditch. Especially in front of people. Which is really a bit of a bummer, since as it now appears Harry is Hogwart's new stud extraordinaire, there were a LOT of people down there. A lot. When I say a lot, I mean that Harry had to keep telling Hufflepuff riff-raff and suchlike to stop trying out for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Not because they were crap - although they were - but because, well, there was the inescapable fact that they were Hufflepuffs. See where I'm going here? Yeah, it was really funny walking down there and seeing a load of first years standing there with a bunch of Cleansweep Two's with twigs sticking out the bottom. Even more so because they aren't even allowed on the school team. Lavender Brown seemed to find it funny too; she gave me a weird smile when I was walking down to the pitch. No idea why - maybe she thinks I'm hot. I am, after all, the new Gryffindor Keeper.

Anyway, Harry (in his immense wisdom) decided that we should leave the Keeper trials 'til last, I assume because he thought the rejected losers would all leave.

This was a crap idea on two accounts:

a) Because the Chasers' trial was before mine, it meant I had to stand by and watch whilst my own darling sibling was made Chaser. As you can imagine, this did slightly pile on the pressure, as in case you hadn't noticed we have a slight history of sibling rivalry in the Weasley household.

b) Instead of people who were rejected leaving, the sick-minded bastards decided that it would be spectacularly fun to stay, sit in the stalls, and throw callous INSULTS at those of us fortunate enough to still be wetting ourselves on the sidelines.

c) It meant I had more time to look at that bastard McLaggen. Or McTreeTrunk, as I like to think of him.

d) Hermione kept smiling at me; apparently for good luck. Unfortunately her 'lucky and comforting' face always manages to look more like an 'apprehensive and nauseous' face when the subject of Quidditch and me are put into the same context.

e) Half of Hogwarts decided that going down to the Quidditch pitch to see if Harry Potter had a good team already would be a good way to spend the morning.

To say that I was cakking myself would be a vast, vast understatement.

Anyway, I felt a bit bolstered after the first keeper tryouts, as frankly, the first five people sucked they actually reached new levels of sucker-y that I had previously thought impossible. I mean, one of the second years trying out actually pulled their broom backwards and crashed into a goal hoop. It would have been hilarious, had I not been so close to fainting. Or throwing up. Or both.

Then, of course it was the turn of Thick-Twat McTreeTrunk. Who really has the unfair advantage. Being as he is literally the size of my house. But anyway; I literally nearly had a heart attack after he saved the first four in like, professional standard saves. Except then when Katie Bell took a shot, he completely crashed and burned. He flew in the opposite direction to the bloody Quaffle! It almost looked like he'd been confounded, actually. This did not entirely stop my nearly falling of my Cleansweep Eleven when it was my turn. If you have ever seen me play, you will realise that I am not the most reliable player in the world.

Hermione gave me her sick grin as I mounted my broom. It didn't help.

Lavender Brown shouted 'Good Luck' at me. This would have helped, but I am pretty sure that she hid her face in her hands a moment later.

There is something horrific about being a Keeper. I mean, if you are a Chaser you can blame the keeper if you lose. Or the other Chasers. If you are a seeker you can't really blame anyone, but then at least you don't have to do anything except circle round the pitch for half the match. Keeper on the other hand, is constant pressure. Those bloody Chasers staring you right out as they charge towards you, rather like a rampaging Hippogriff.

Katie Bell took the first shot. I think it was quite lucky on my part that it wasn't too difficult, straight towards the left hoop. It gave me a bit of a boost, I gotta say.

Demelza was next. She is this new find of Harry's: a totally superb Chaser, brilliant at dodging and tackling, and not too bad looking either, for her age; not that I let THAT distract me. A professional Keeper type like me. Ha ha. Anyway, that was a bloody difficult save that one was. Had a bit of spin on it see, almost slipped past my fingers.

The third and forth save………… (N.B- Aiko's Night-Patrol had to edit this part of Ron's innermost thoughts, as it a was rather tedious a long winded explanation of the exact angle of Demelza Robins' and Katie Bell's third and forth saves, and not particularly interesting or relevant for any other purpose that boosting Ron Weasley's Ego)

Harry got my sister to shoot last. The bastard. I have no idea why he thought that would be a good idea; combining an incredibly important save with the added horror of seeing my demonic younger sister hurtle towards me on a broomstick with that manically repressed look in her eyes. The one that she uses on Slytherins before unleashing her infamous bat-bogey hex on them. I tell you, I feel sorry for the other Keepers in this school, being faced with that for the next year.

But, as you must know by now, I saved it. Of course I did. Duh. That is why I am the keeper.

McTreeTrunk wasn't very amused. In fact, I thought that he was going to bite Harry's head off (it would be quite possible, as I have already outlined, he is roughly the size of a train) I had recovered enough by then to admire the throbbing vein in his neck, and the nice beetroot shade of his visage.

So, then, after the whole amazing victory thing, we had a sort of manly (and womanly, in some peoples cases) team bonding moment, and then Harry and Hermione came over and told me how brilliantly I did. Of course, it would have been churlish to disagree, so I just beamed around at everyone.

And then, as if things couldn't possibly get any better, Hagrid started talking to us again.

Seriously. I love life. It rocks.

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Well children. I really hope you enjoyed that. if so, review! If not, FLAME! It will at least give me something to laugh at, although I will say that due to a lot of stress my current mental state is very fragile, and you will be held officially responsible if I have a break down in response to your cruel slating of my work.

Anyhoooooooo... review, anyone?