Chapter Three

Ron spent the next week contemplating all that had happened in the Three Broomsticks. It was hard to keep this secret from Lieca, especially since she seemed to be everywhere he was, always passing him in the corridors and telling him hello. To make matters worse, Harry was becoming increasingly obsessed with the upcoming quidditch game against Hufflepuff. Ron found this annoying because he was finding it nearly impossible to stay in the game with all this in mind.

"Tomorrow!!" Harry shouted at Ron at lunch the day before the match. He had been yeslling this all morning, and frankly, Ron was getting sick of it.

"Just... seriously mate, just lay off, I think we all get it."He said.

"lay off!" Harry repeated wildly. "/lay off/?!?! I can't just /lay off/, Ron. I'm the Quidditch Captain! If we fail, I'll always be remembered as the first Captain who ever led Gryffindor into defeat! Do you want that to happen? Do you? DO YOU?!"

Ron stared at him.

"Besides, and I know I don't need to remind you, because I've told you a hundred times," Harry went on, "but Hufflepuff's got this new chaser who's rumoured to be an amazing flyer, and you're not... well..."

Ron sighed down at his cheese. "No the best keeper, I know. I'm trying..."

Harry patted his friend sympathetically on the shoulder. "Aww... well... just don't screw up, mkay buddy?" And with that, he stood from the table and headed off to the Gryffindor tower.

"Gee, thanks/buddy/," Ron muttered, feeling sick to his stomach.

Ron woke up on the day of the quidditch match, feeling the cold wind outside more in his stomach than on his facfe. He ate very little breakfast, and realised as he walked through the wet grass towards the stadium with Ginny and Harry, that Lieca hadn't said goodmorning to him, like she usually did. This was truly an unlucky day, he thought, and felt his heart sink low into his chest.

The Gryffindors suited up, Harry led his team out onto the pitch, white-faced and qite silent. Ron followed him into the air and zoomed over towards the goalposts as the Hufflepuffs rose into the air. His ears felt fuzzy and he couldn't hear musch, or maybe he was just too depressed to listen as the commentator shouted out the names of the players, something about Harry being the captain, and the golden snitch, and then Madame Hooch blew her whistle and the quaffle, bludgers and the Golden snitch were released.

Ron looked up darkly through his red hair, now dark with rain, at the oncoming chasers. Hufflepuff already had the Quaffle. They were doomed. Just as Ron was doomed. Nothing would ever be right again.

The hufflepuff girl who had the quaffle had magnificent, shiney auburn hair flapping behined her in a long ponytail, and her green eyes squinted at him through the rain. She looked determined, and she threw the quaffle at him hard.

Ron, still feeling disgusted with himself, did nothing to stop it, but just at the last moment, his hand slipped on the wet handle of his broomstick, and his face smashed into the handle. His other arm flew into the air and collided painfully with something hard--the quaffle.

"Nice save, Ron!" Called Harry from above.

"I--what?"

"Wow!" came the voice of the chaser who'd thrown the quaffle at him. She flew right close to him, slipped her goggles from her eyes, and grinned at him. "I heard I was going against you, Ron," she said happily, "But I never imagined you were so amazing!"

Ron blinked.

"And that was a throw by Lieca Patterson, rumoured to be one of the best flyers Hufflepuff has ever seen, and a save by Ron weasley, who's not really got a very good reputation..."

"L-lieca!" He gasped. "Hey... you're..."

"No time for talk, Ronald!" she called cheerily as she rose higher into the air and continued over to the other chasers. "You can do this! Let's go!"

For a moment, Ron was frozen. Then he shook it off, feeling renewed strength burst through him like lightening. "Okay," he said under his breath, "if she thinks I can do it, I can. Cause... well she's an angel, and angels make miracles!"

The game continued, and the Hufflepuffs were merciless. But Ron, somehow flawless, blocked every goal but four, and Guinny had scored seven by now.

All at once, there was a loud whistle, and the Gryffindors errupted into cheers: Harry had caught the snitch!

Ron flew to the ground and ran into the arms of his sister and Harry, and they embraced, shouting their celebration. Harry looked just as pale as he had before the match, but now he was smiling in an odd sort of way that showed he couldn't quite believe what had just happened. Ron, however, felt elated, more than he had been all week. He felt on top of the world, and it was all thanks to [iher[/i.

"Ron! Hey--Ron!"

He spun around to see Lieca running towards him. He held out his arms for her, feeling happiness fill him, Lieca, however. was looking utterly distraught. His smile faded as he saw that her face was drenched in tears, her eyes red and puffy from crying.

"Lieca!" He gasped as she ran into his arms, weeping.

"Ron..." she sobbed into him, clutching handfuls of his jumper. "I...oh, Ron..."

"Come on..." He said, taking her by the hand and pulling her away from the crowd of Gryffindors and towards the changing rooms. He pulled her inside and hust the door behined them.

"Look," He said as they sat on the bench, "You played really well, there's no need to be sad..."

But Lieca shook her head. "No..." She muttered. "No... I... I'm not sad about that...it's...Blake..."

Dread filled Ron's stomach. His head felt as heavy as though it were made of lead.

"Oh no..." He said quietly, holding her tighter. "What happened? Did he..." He remembered what Blake had said in the Three Bromsticks. He was ready for it.

"Blake's..." But she didn't need to say anymore. She heaved into racious sobs and Ron held her tighter than ever before. How could Blake do this? How could someone do something this horrible to someone this beautiful... that jerk...

Then he realized:It's now or never.

"Lieca," he began, "I love--"

"Lieca!" The door flew open and Ginny burst in, followed closely by the rest of the Gryffindor team, chanting, "WEASLEY IS OUR KING!"

Without warning, they liffeted Ron by his trainers and suddenly he was in the air, riding on the shoulders of the entire team and leaving Lieca behined. As the mob moved toward the Gryffindor tower for celebration, Ron looked back at the small frame of the weeping girl sitting alone in the Gryffindor changing room.

As the weekend progressed, Ron did not see much of Lieca, in fact he didn't see her at all. Not one sign of her was shown for the next few weeks; Ron frequently checked the hufflepuff table at every meal and didn't see her. All of her Hufflepuff friends were there the same, laughing and giggling as though she were there, same as usual; even Blake was sitting at the Ravenclaw table, looking as though he'd done absolutely nothing wrong.

Two weeks past, and as the snow finally fell on Hogwarts, late this year, Christmas arrived and with it the threat that it would take Lieca away from him for longer than he could bear.

He pulled his trunk into the Great Hall to meet with Harry, who would be coming back to the Burrow with him for Christmas. he was found standing by himself, looking up at the enormous tree that Hagrid had cut down and lugged all the way from the Forbidden Forest, now adorned in all sorts of small baubles and ornaments for the holiday season. Ron stood next to Harry and looked up at the tree, too.

"Ready then?" Harry asked quietly.

Ron nodded silently and turned away from the christmas tree, before moving swiftly down the corridors to the great double doors that led out into the grounds, Harry hurrying along in his wake. Outside, the air was crisp and clear; Ron could breath deply the smells of the snow. Laughter bubbled from all over the grounds: Students had piled on layer after layer of wintery clothing to go out into the snow and play. As Ron and Harry walked across the bridge towards the gate, they past a group of girls giggling in a circle. This was nothing new to Ron; he'd never really understood these gaggles girls tended to form and didn't really have much interest of the subject anyways. His boots crunched in the cold white snow beneath him as they rounded the various student-made snowmen scattered along the pathway and stopped in front of the large gate leading to Hogsmead station, where the Scarlet Hogwarts Express would take them back to London.

Ron glanced up to the large statues of winged boars on either side out of habit, and realised something was sitting on top of one of them--a person! No, it was only the Fat Friar, who was the Hufflepuff ghost, much like Nearly Headless Nick was the Gryffindor ghost. He was sitting atop the winged boar, inspecting the snowy grounds below. When he caught Ron's eye, Ron quickly looked away, but the Friar swooped down quickly and stopped just in front of he and Harry.

"Are you Ronald?" He asked Harry with a suspicious eye. Harry shook his head hastily and jabbed a finger in Ron's direction.

Ron gave Harry an odd look for ratting him out and then stood before the Fat Friar, who had now turned his enormous blue eyes on him. The Ghost rose an eyebrow, scrutenizing Ron as though he were not quite what he had expected "/You/ are Ron?" He confirmed skeptically.

Ron shook his head, feeling large flakes of snow begin to fall down from the sky and land on his long nose.

The Fat Friar looked at him for a moment, quite shocked, then shook it off and said in an imoportant-sounding voice, "Well then Ronald, this is for you" --and he held out a small package wrapped with deep crimson wrapping paper and a gold tie with tiny Gryffindor Lions on it. attatched to the package was an envelope that said "To Ron".

Ron pulled one of the strings of the tie, meaning to open the package, but the Friar let out a loud tuttering sound. "Ah-ah, young man!" He scathed. "Can you not see that this is a Christmas present? Don't open it yet, you scallywag!"

Ron, taken aback by the Friar's words, let go of the string, shoved the package in his robes and inclined his head to the Friar. "Thanks," He said shortly, before nodding to Harry and following his friend up the hill to the station where the scarlet engine lay steaming in the winter air.

"Ron! Don't just houver there!"

"Wha--?"

Boom.

The makeshift quaffle collided painfully with Ron's face, and a loud cracking sound filled the air. Hot blood filled the back of Ron's mouth.

"We'll have to take you to your mummy ickle Ronnykins," Said Fred with mock concern, flying over to him on his broomstick.

"See if she can't mop up your little spill," George continued off his twin, flying after him. Harry and Ginny came after them both.

"Can't evenplay a game of Quidditch without you drifting off into your own little world!" Ginny scolded her brother. "What's with you these days?"

"I'm sorry," Ron muttered as he landed softly on the snowy ground and slipped off his broom. One hand clutching his broomstick, the other cupping his bleeding nose, he stalked from the yard and elbowed the door open. Inside, his mother was standing at the sink, washing her hands, while potatoes, beats, and carrots were peeling themseves for christmas eve dinner that night.

"Ron, what have you done to yourself?" She exclaimed upon seeing his state.

"I haven't done anything," He mumbled beneath his cupped hand, putting his brromstick on the couch and glancing up at the clock above it. The clock indicated the location of each weasley. At the moment, everyone but Percy, Bill, Charley and Aurther were home. The rest were at work, but they would most likely be home presently, Ron thought.

Molly grabbed Ron roughly by the chin and lifted his face so she could see it properly. She squinted at it for a moment, then tapped her wand hard on it, sending a lightening of pain through his nose and making him shout, "Ouch!" But it healed, nevertheless.

"Suck it up," Molly said, tapping him on the cheek, but smiling in a motherly way, and she turned to continue her cooking. "So," she went on, before Ron could escape. "Why don't you tell me about your girl troubles?"

"I'd rather not," Ron said stiffly, clasping his fingers around his broomstick handle again and looking away from his mother.

"A girl came to the door this morning," Molly continued as though she hadn't heard Ron. "she was cute, was she your girlfriend?" She tittered with laughter. Ron was silent. "She was looking for you. Her name was Lieca."

He looked up quickly. He squinted a little, trying to decide weather or not his mother was playing with him, then he said seriously, "Really?"

Molly gave another chirp of laughter.

"I mean..." Ron leant against the couch and tried to repeat in his most casual voice, "Really?"

"Ron! Hurry up, mate!" Harry's voice called from outside.

"Oh, go on," Molly said in a quiet laugh, shooing him out the door.

"But mum, I..."

"Ron, seriously mate, get in the game!" Harry said angrily.

"Don't keep Harry waiting," Said Fred.

"Yeah, he's the Boy Who Lived, you know," said George.

"But..."

"Ron, catch!" Shouted Ginny, hucking the quaffle at her brother's face and, once again, hitting him squarely in the face.

The evening went by quickly, ending with an extraordinarily early bedtime. Ron and Harry sat up all night talking excitedly about what the next day would bring them, and Ron reckoned they'd never get to sleep. But they did eventually, and awoke the next morning to a stocking full of presents at the foot of their beds. Ginny, Fred and George hopped into the room presently, all three of them carrying their own stockings and dumping them out onto Harry's bed and sorting through them.

"This one's from Father Christmas," Ginny said sarcastically, laughing and gesturing to one particular package. "Can't believe mum thinks I still believe in him..."

"Can't believe mum still thinks /we/ do!" Fred said, as George held up his own package labled, "from Father Christmas".

Ron laughed heartily, opening his final present, which was a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. He smiled at all his gifts, looked around at Harry's, then looked back at his own, still grinning from ear to ear.

"Hey, Ron," Said Harry as an afterthought, "What about that one the Fat Friar gave you?"

"Oh yeah!" Ron said excitedly, leaping from his bed and hobbling over to his wardrobe. He ripped open the doors and fished inside for the robes he'd been wearing that day... but they were gone! No!, he thought, Mum must've washed them!

He tore from the room and down the steps, skipping the three at the bottom and simply hopping down to the first landing, and spun around into the laundry room, where his dirty robes were lying in a pile on the floor, not yet washed. Thanking God, he plunged his hand into the mess of robes and reemerged with a small crimson package. He ripped it open greedily. All at once, the package burst open, and something much larger than what the package could have been holding was lying in his arms. It was a broomstick! It was a Silver Arrow, which wasn't the best on the market--in fact it was one of the oldest broomsticks Ron had ever seen. But what made this broomstick amazing, was the sparkling, gold writing on the handle that spelt out the name,

"Dragomir Gorgovitch"

Ron was utterly shocked, his heart beating fast. "No... no way!" He whispered. He looked at the floor, and seeing the fallen card, scooped it in his trembling hands. He ripped open the envelope and pulled out the white card, which bore small baby polar bears dressed as father christmas on the front, and the words, "Merry Christmas, to a special friend." He opened the card and found the words inside:

"Dear Ronald,

I've tricked you, haven't I? You didn't expect a broom inside, did you? If you haven't noticed, it was signed by Gorgovitch, Chaser for the most amazing Quidditch team ever (Need I say it? Oh alright-- Chudley Cannons!). I hope you enjoy it, I got it signed when I was a kid at one of their games. It's very special, because not only is it signed by Gorgovitch, it was RIDDEN by him, too! cool huh?

Happy Christmas, Ron. Thanks for being my friend!

Love Lieca

P.S. Don't worry about what happened during our last match -- someone very special helped me get through it, and I'm over Blake -- "

Ron felt a grin spread across his face and his cheeks blazed red with happiness. Lieca. Lieca, who had helped him that day in the corridors, purely out of the goodness of her heart. Lieca, who had seen the good even in a prat such as Blake St.Claire. Lieca, who had encouraged him to win the Quidditch match. Lieca, who had completely stolen his heart, given him the best gift he'd ever recieved and really, really liked him! Could it be true?

He re-read the words, "someone very special helped me get through it, and I'm over Blake". Someone special. Him? Who else? Did she really like him instead of Blake?

Then Ron noticed the tiny arrow pointing to turn over the card. He turned it in his palms, read the message, and felt his heart fly from his mouth and out the window, his face sink into his skull, and his entire exsistance die inside of him:

"...his name is Draco Malfoy and I think I may just love him! Happy Christmas! )"