First, I want to everyone for their reviews to my third chapter. I will always send a personal thank you message when possible, but I'll always have a public thank you, as I'm still getting use to receiving comments on my story, and I'm grateful for everyone I get, so really, thanks, guys.
To publicly address some ideas, about Ron's level of friendliness. Yes, compared to Harry, I'd agree that Ron is more friendly, but I've never gotten the distinction that he was terribly close to Seamus, Dean, Neville, or any of the girls his year. His best friends are Harry and Hermione, and I personally never felt he had all that many others, though those are just my thoughts on that.
Once again, my favorite Guest encapsulates my exact feelings regarding what I'm writing about, and I'll know that I've published a sub-par chapter once she says she disliked it, lol.
I wanted to add that I'm sorry I don't seem to have a consistent chapter length. I write to where I think is a good chapter ending, and as you can see, they vary wildly. I can't promise 9,000 word chapters every time, people, and I'm sorry about that.
Oh, and happy holidays, people. Hope you guys have a great day, and sorry for the wait on this chapter.
Lastly, I, of course, do not own these characters. That'd be the most excellent J.K. Rowling.
Chapter Four: Quidditch and Questions
There was a dim light shining through his eyelids, but that wasn't what awoke Ron Weasely as he struggled into consciousness. What awoke him were the flames of pain burning in his right hand.
Moaning, Ron forced his eyes open to see what he thought appeared to be the hospital wing, though it was slightly dark, so he couldn't be sure. Winging it, mostly because the pain refused to be ignored, he called out.
"Madam Pomfrey," he croaked, and was alarmed to hear his voice was extremely rough, and he wondered what time it was. Had he been out for hours or days?
He heard a shuffling outside his curtains and a harried Pomfrey walked in.
"Ah, you're awake," she said, eyes glancing at his face, which was strained in pain. "Take this. It won't taste good, but I can assure you that you'll want something to numb the pain."
He clumsily used his left hand to grab the small bottle that Madam Pomfrey was holding out, and swallowed it in one gulp. It burned on the way down his throat, reminding him of the Firewhisky Fred and George shared with him in secret last summer, though without the fun aftereffects. Ron did, however, enjoy the fact that his right hand almost instantly became numb, though the pain wasn't completely gone.
After Madam Pomfrey grabbed the empty bottle back from Ron, she handed him a nice, cool glass of water that felt like heaven as it poured down Ron's throat, slightly diminishing the burning sensation and stopping his mouth from feeling as dry as a desert.
"That's much better, Madam Pomfrey," Ron said gratefully, placing the now half-empty glass on the bedside table awkwardly with his left hand, then he looked around the room. "What time is it? What happened? I remember the Quaffle-"
"The Quaffle in question," Madam Pomfrey said, cutting Ron off, though softly, "is currently in the possession of Madam Hooch, who is examining it to see what went wrong. If I'm not mistaken, Professor McGonagall suspects Slytherin sabotage, though it'll be almost impossible to prove. She'll want to talk to you about it later today."
Ron nodded his head glumly, and while he was happy McGonagall's first thought was seemingly Slytherin interference and not him messing up the spell himself, he still couldn't help feeling embarrassed about the event. Me, the Gryffindor Keeper, gets injured and knocked out during a fuckin' solo practice. Oh, the school's going to be laughing for months.
This thought brought a flood of questions to Ron, though he decided he'd try to stay calm and ask them one by one.
"What time and day is it," he asked, not sure what answer he was looking for. On one hand, if it was after the Quidditch match with Slytherin, he'd forgo the embarrassment of sitting in here and listening to the commentary of the match he was suppose to be playing in. And if the match hadn't happened yet, he knew it made no difference, because there was no way in hell Madam Pomfrey would ever consider letting him play in it.
"It's Saturday, the 2nd, and it's currently," Madam Pomfrey looked around the curtains, most certainly to a clock somewhere in the hospital wing, "2:04 am. And to forgo an obvious question, no, Mr. Weasley, I cannot permit you to play in the Quidditch match later today."
Ron had expected this, but still, he couldn't believe that the Gryffindor Keeper had stupidly injured himself while practicing solo. He knew that even if the Slytherin Quidditch team was found out to have been behind it, that wouldn't be talked about as much compared to just a bad Keeper who knocked himself out with a Quaffle. And now he was going to have to endure laying here in the hospital wing while the match was going on outside. He couldn't believe his luck.
"Who ended up visiting me today," he asked anxiously, wondering if a certain bushy-haired girl had been here at all. Considering the way he'd treated her recently, he doubted it.
"I believe Mr. Potter almost broke his arm running here after he had heard you were injured," Madam Pomfrey started, shaking her head slightly, "and if I'm not mistaken, Mr. Thomas stopped by for a few minutes to check how you were doing."
"Dean," Ron asked, incredulously. What the hell was Dean, the guy who is currently snogging my sister in every part of the castle he can get away with, visiting me for?
"Yes. Oh, and of course," she began, a smile coming to her face, "Miss Granger, who was the one who found you in the first place, and was able to hold herself together well enough that she got you here without doing anymore damage to you. In fact, she stayed by your side until curfew came up."
Ron didn't really know what to think about this piece of information. He'd been horrible to Hermione these past few days. Well, to be fair, I've been horrible to everyone, but that doesn't make me feel any better about how I've treated her. Why was she here for that long? Damn, if I had just woken up earlier, I could have been able to come clean with how I'm feeling, and get some answers about what exactly she was saying during Herbology about the Christmas party.
Ron shook his head, hoping he'd have some alone time with Hermione so he could clarify what the invite actually was, and, if things went well, tell her how he felt about her. Of course, he'd need to pluck up his courage to do that. Wonder if Pomfrey has any Firewhisky lying around...
Getting back to himself, he finished off his questions.
"Right, do you know who is suppose to replace me as Keeper today? And," Ron's eyes grew wide as he remembered his Cleansweep, "my broom! Did someone grab my broom?"
"Easy, Mr. Weasley," Madam Pomfrey said sternly, seeing that he was trying to get up from the bed. "Miss Granger took care to grab your broom and wand, and neither appear to be damaged. And if I heard Professor McGonagall correctly, Mr. McLaggen will be filling in as Keeper. Now, if you're done with your inquires, I do have an examination to perform."
Ron nodded quietly, and laid quietly as Madam Pomfrey went about taking his temperature, checking his heart-rate, and shining a light into his eyes that almost blinded him. He was extremely glum about the prospect of Cormac filling in for him today. Not that he didn't think he was up to the job. On the contrary, he was extremely worried that Cormac would impress the rest of the team so much that Harry would be forced to keep him as the main Keeper.
"Now," she said, finishing up the initial exam, "is there any pain at all in your hand? The potion I gave you should have taken complete effect by now."
Ron was surprised, as he'd forgotten his hand was still injured. He couldn't even feel his right arm, and told Pomfrey as much.
"Good, because this would be extremely painful, and even now, some pain might slip through," she warned, starting to unwrap the bandage around his hand. "In fact, I'd suggest you look away while I do this. Your hand... Well, let's just say you don't need to watch."
Ron nodded, and looked lazily to his left when he felt what seemed like the bones in his hand grinding together. He let out a sharp gasp.
"Stay still, Mr. Weasley," she said, giving his turned away face a quick glance before returning to her work, "this is a delicate process that you wouldn't want to mess up."
"Why," Rom grimaced, gritting his teeth through pain he was sure would be a hundred times worse without the potion he was given, "did you have to do this now, when I'm awake, and not earlier when I wouldn't have felt it?"
"Mr. Weasley," she scoffed, not disregarding the pain he was in but still slightly annoyed he saw to question her treatment, "if you think for a second that you'd not have felt me healing your hand while you were unconscious, you can drop that thought. Without the potion I gave you to drink, you'd be screaming loud enough to wake half the castle at this moment. If I had forgone the potion and attempted this earlier, I have no doubt you'd have woken up screaming and climbing on the walls. Also, I prefer to let my patients who sustain head injuries regain consciousness on their own time. Jarring you awake could have caused some serious brain injuries."
Ron sat quietly through this explanation, partly because he knew he'd start swearing if he opened his mouth, as the pain was really getting to him, and partly because he'd rather have stayed unconscious in the hospital wing for a month than risk any brain damage, especially after seeing the state of Neville's parents last Christmas in St Mungo's.
"There," Madam Pomfrey said, sounding satisfied, and Ron noticed the pain had stopped. His hand still had a sore ache, but it was nothing compared to how it felt ten seconds ago. He risked a glance at his right hand, and was pleased to see it looked in order, though he noticed three scars that hadn't been there before.
"I'd strongly advise against using that hand for the next twelve hours," she said, standing up straight. "It'll still be sore. As for any potential brain injuries you may have incurred, I'm reasonably sure that you'll be fine on that front. You know where you are, who I am, and what you were doing before the incident. I'd say you got off easy. A fall from a broom can do a lot of damage if it's bad enough, sometimes irreversible damage."
"I don't suppose you could discharge me early so I can attend the match," Ron asked quickly, pretty sure what the response was going to be. Though he didn't look forward to watching McLaggen's performance, it'd have been better than lying here and hearing the praises through the window.
"Certainly not, Mr. Weasley," and though she looked slightly stern, Ron noticed that her eyes seemed to be smiling. "Not only do I want you to get some good bed rest that isn't a result of you falling from a broom, I believe you will have a morning visitor to look forward to."
Before Ron could ask exactly who she thought would get up early on a Saturday morning just to come down and see him, Madam Pomfrey continued to speak.
"Now, if that's all, Mr. Weasley, I shall go retire to my office. Of course, if you need anything, don't hesitate you call for me. Goodnight and good dreams, Mr. Weasley."
Ron was flummoxed at the sight of a small smile on Pomfrey's face before she turned to walk away. Ron wanted desperately to think hard about this, but he was starting to feel drowsy, and he wanted to attend to his hand. Holding it up in front of his face in the dim light, he saw that it looked just like normal, except for the scars he'd noticed before. Ignoring Pomfrey's wishes, he flexed his pointer finger a bit, and a sliver of pain shot down his arm.
Ron sighed, and gingerly laid his right arm on the cool sheets of his bed. Morning visitor or not, Ron hoped he would sleep straight through the game. He had absolutely no desire to hear whatever new replacement commentator they'd gotten to replace Lee Jordan praise McLaggen's Keeper performance, which is exactly what he thought was going to happen.
Awkwardly grabbing his half-full glass of water with his left hand again, he drank it down slowly. It wasn't as cool as when he'd first been handed it, but it was still nice to keep his throat hydrated. Placing it down again, now with only a little puddle at the bottom, Ron's stomach grumbled. Frowning, Ron realized that he hadn't eaten anything since lunch, and that was over twelve hours ago. Regardless, he was tired, and he didn't much care for the idea of getting Madam Pomfrey just so she could get him something to eat.
Deciding to just wait a few hours until whatever breakfast she'd serve, Ron closed his eyes to slumber, and he started snoring not five minutes after.
The sun wasn't up when Hermione Granger open her eyes. She'd not gotten terribly restful sleep, as she feared would be the case. She woke up not three hours after originally going to bed, the dream of Ron's broken body on the Quidditch pitch causing her to jolt awake. She'd apparently been crying during that dream, as her pillow was a bit damp in a spot. Flipping it over, she forced herself to go to sleep again after seeing it was only 1 a.m.
Her second dream of the night was of a much more pleasant nature, also involving Ron, but with a bit less clothes on than Hermione had ever seen him in before. A bit groggy still, Hermione had to stifle a groan once she realized her right hand was lying, not on the bed as it usually did, but on top of her pajama bottoms. Confirming her suspicions, she rubbed her fingers together, and found them a bit sticky.
Oh come on, she thought, sitting up, hoping none of her dorm mates were awake yet, blushing a deep red, I can't believe this. Ron's lying in the hospital wing, and I was busy touching myself while dreaming about him?
Sighing, she flipped her sheets to the other side of the bed and stood up, doing her best to be silent about it. Grabbing her wand from the nightstand, she muttered a quick cleaning spell at where her lower body had just been. Grabbing two towels, clean undergarments and robes, and her shower supplies, she stalked off towards the showers.
I didn't even check what time it was, I was so distracted, she thought, placing her clean clothes at the end of the bench that lined the left hand of the room. Not like it matters. I have got to get myself cleaned up, and I'd rather stay up and read in the common room than risk having that happen again.
Stripping off her pajamas, not even daring to glance at the state of her knickers, she threw them in a pile under the bench, and, making sure her towels were hanging where she could reach them from the shower, she stepped in and closed the curtain.
Turning the water to a calm and steamy temperature, she couldn't help but think about her second dream. This had not been the first time she'd dreamed of Ron in this way; those hark back to her third year at Hogwarts, though she didn't admit to herself it was Ron she was dreaming about until her fourth year.
As for conscious masturbation, well, that started after she'd realized who kept getting her so worked up as she slept. She knew it was natural for girls her age, but she still felt extremely embarrassed about the fact that she'd deal with her urges before going to sleep and then had to face Ron the next morning, as though they were nothing more than friends. It was rather stressful, especially when she could never bring herself to think of Viktor the same way, but she had gotten a hang of it by the end of the year.
Rubbing copious amounts of shampoo into her hair, knowing it was still going to look as bushy as always once it had dried, Hermione decided to get her mind out of the gutter and figure out how she was going to talk to Ron this morning.
Madam Pomfrey assured them privacy, which Hermione was extremely grateful for, but it'd be a lot different approaching Ron, who'd been knocked out in a hospital bed for half a day, than approaching a Ron who was just practicing Keeping, as normal.
She didn't know how exactly to start the conversation off. The slightly ominous, "Ron, there's something I've been wanting to tell you for three years"? The beating-around-the-bush comment of, "Harry told me what Ginny said to you, and I've already told her that if she did it again, I'd curse her"? Much more direct and crass than that, "Ron, I love you, and I make myself cum thinking about you"?
Hermione figured the last two were jumping the gun a bit, and that Ron would have a heart attack if she used the third one. As for the second, she was a little anxious to tell Ron what she'd said to Ginny. Most people would be happy that someone stood up for them, but most people weren't as emotionally touchy as Ron was. It was very possible, Hermione reckoned, that Ron would either be embarrassed or angry about her interfering in what he probably considered a normal, sibling dispute.
These thoughts rushed through Hermione's mind much like the warm water washed over her body, and Hermione concluded that she'd try to figure out Ron's mood before deciding which route to go with. Turning the water off, Hermione grabbed for one of the towels hanging outside the shower, drying herself off as quickly as she could, now hearing the slight shuffling of one of her roommates.
Probably Parvati, considering the others hardly make it up for breakfast during the week, let alone whatever time it is now.
Getting dressed as quickly as possible, keeping her eyes on the door, Hermione had just finished clasping her robes together when Parvati walked in, carrying her shower stuff as well. Looking bleary eyed, she nodded to Hermione as she headed for the shower furthest from the entrance. Hermione grabbed her wet towels and her dirty clothes and walked back to her bed, throwing them all in the hamper the house-elves tended to everyday.
Picking up her watch, she checked the time, and was pleasantly surprised to see that it was 6:15. For a second she had to fight the urge to go straight to the hospital wing to see if Ron was awake yet, but considering she'd missed dinner last night, she thought it'd be wiser to go down to breakfast first.
Fat lot of good it'll actually do me, she thought, snapping the watch onto her wrist, I'm already nervous, and I'll just get more nervous the closer I get to talking to Ron. How am I suppose to eat when I feel it's a good possibility I'll just throw it up after finishing?
Hermione made her bed quickly, wondering if she should just go straight to Ron after all, but as she was pretty hungry, she'd risk the breakfast first. Finishing with her bed, she quickly put her shoes on, and walked out the door and down the stairs to the common room. Her heart leapt in her stomach as she saw a red-haired head resting on the arm of the long couch, but settled as she saw it was just Ginny.
Of course it's not Ron, she thought, disapproving of her small flight of fancy, Madam Pomfrey would feed him to the giant squid before discharging him in the middle of the night.
She walked around the couch as quietly as she could to look at Ginny. She was wearing her pajamas, and it looked like she had cried herself to sleep. Hermione felt a pang of pity for the girl.
Even if she deserved it, I never would have yelled at her if I knew Ron was going to end up in the hospital wing. No matter what arguments they got into, no matter what was said, Ron is still her older brother, and it's obvious from this reaction that Ginny is hurt that Ron was in the hospital wing.
While Hermione was still angry about what Ginny had said, the anger lighten a bit as she watched the youngest Weasley child sleeping on the couch. Turning away, she walked down the steps to the portrait and left the common room, trying her hardest to ignore the butterflies that had started fluttering in her stomach.
Ron had just finished the breakfast Madam Pomfrey had brought out to him, and was about to ask, tactfully, of course, if he could have a bit more when he heard a noise at the door of the hospital wing. Glancing toward it, he saw the handle turning slightly, but the door wasn't opening.
"Oh, silly me," Madam Pomfrey said, and walked over to the door and unlocking it.
Ron couldn't see who it was once Pomfrey opened the door, considering she was blocking his view, but his heart leapt when he saw a flash of poofy brown hair, and his thought was confirmed by Madam Pomfrey.
"I'm sorry, Miss Granger, since I rarely allow visitors this early, I forgot to unlock the door," she said apologetically, and Ron wondered why, if this was the case, Hermione was being allowed in at this hour in the first place. "Please, come in, come in."
She turned around and started heading to Ron's bed as Hermione entered the room behind her, eyes automatically finding Ron, and she gave a slight smile. Rom smiled back, but considering his more-than-friends feelings towards her lately, he was starting to feel a bit nervous and self-conscious.
Madam Pomfrey grabbed his food tray from him and headed back to her office, shutting the door behind her, and leaving an awkward silence of five seconds.
If Ron hadn't been told by Pomfrey that he hadn't received a brain injury, he'd have thought it was the case, because Hermione almost looked like she wanted to throw herself on him and was only just restraining herself. Her face also looked flushed, and Ron started to wonder if she was coming down with something.
"Hi, Ron," she said, pulling up a chair to sit on his left side, "how're you doing? How's your hand?"
"Hey, Hermione," he said, deciding to be cautious until he found out what was up with her. "My hand's mostly fine, though it's still bloody sore. I also have some new scars that'll go well with the scars on my arms."
He held out his right hand so she could see, and he almost jumped when Hermione held out her index finger and started tracing one of them. It felt like an electric shock, her touch, and while he thought he'd contained his feelings well, Hermione jerked her hand back, apologizing and asking if she'd hurt his hand anymore.
"No, no, it's fine," he muttered, looking over her left shoulder to avoid contact with her brown eyes, hoping she didn't know what her touch had made him feel.
There was another few seconds of silence, then they both started talking at once.
"Ron, I-"
"Why are-"
They both stopped, and Ron let out a small laugh.
"Okay, Hermione, you first."
"Ron, I-I wanted to talk to you about something," she began, face blushing, and Ron for the life of him couldn't figure out what was up with her. "Madam Pomfrey told you that it was me who found you on the pitch?"
"Yeah, she did, and before you continue, thank you, Hermione. I know I much prefer it here than lying in that bloody-"
"Language, Ron," Hermione interrupted, though without the usual annoyance that came along with this admonishment. In fact, she looked rather happy at his thanks.
"Well, I was going to tell you this yesterday," she continued, "but then I found you in the state you were in, so..."
She trailed off and looked away from Ron for a second, and if it wasn't for the fact that Ron generally sucked at figuring out emotions through voice tone, he'd have thought she was almost crying.
Of course she was almost crying! One close friend finds another close friend injured, that's what they do! This thought, however, didn't extinguish his hope that perhaps there was more to it than that to her. Mostly, though, she wanted her to move on to the point before he completely lost all the courage he'd built up during his very exciting dreams of Hermione earlier.
"What did you want to talk about yesterday," he asked, trying his hardest to keep any unnatural tone of hope out of his voice.
"I-I," she stuttered, and she looked as though she'd decided Ron's hair color was a good look for her face, "I-oh, this is harder than I thought it'd be."
"Ron, it's come to my attention over these past few years that certain feelings I have towards you are more than what I have for any other friend," she said slowing, trying to sound composed, though her eyes were closed while she spoke. "I-I can't be sure, considering I'm never felt this feeling before, but I think that-"
"Wait, Hermione," Ron almost shouted, startling her eyes open, "are you saying that you... That your invitation to Slughorn's party was as more than friends?"
Hermione nodded, a bit annoyed she hadn't made her intentions more clear when she brought it up to Ron during that Herbology lesson.
"Yes, Ron, I was," Hermione sighed, trying to get a grip on the conversation before it completely flew off the rails, "in my own way, asking you out, and I regret I didn't make it more clear to you then."
Ron was shell-shocked. Is Hermione actually telling me the same exact thing that I wanted to tell her? Ron's initial feeling was that he should laugh in relief, but he knew there was no way Hermione would take that well. In fact, Hermione looked like she was downright Petrified while waiting for Ron's immediate reaction.
"Hermione, I," he started, annoyed at how his voice was choking up. He glanced quickly at her right hand, just resting on the bed next to his left, and if he wasn't so afraid of making a wrong move, he'd reach out and grab it. "I-blimey, this is bloody hard, isn't it? I feel the same way about you, and while I didn't realize it until this summer, I've... fuck. I've loved you since our fourth year, and I've been an absolute prat for waiting this long to tell you."
Ron turned away, not caring that Hermione had basically admitted the same thing not a minute ago. He was terrified at what her reaction would be. She didn't say love. Had he been too blunt? Would she not take it seriously because he was lying in a hospital bed after having been unconscious for half a day, and perhaps not in his right mind? He looked back over quickly to gauge her reaction, and was slightly startled to see that she was crying and getting up.
Blimey, what did I-
"Language, Ron," she said, her voice shaky, and she leaned in to kiss Ron.
Yes, it was clumsy. Yes, she was crying, which he'd mocked Harry for when talking about Harry's experience last year with Cho. Yes, he had just been knocked out in the hospital wing for half a day and had his hand mauled. All of that was true, but none of it mattered. It was a perfect kiss.
Harry looked out the window of the dorm at the still-dark sky. Damn, I hate winter. We get, what, eight hours of daylight?
He knew he was being over-dramatic, but he thought it was better thinking about the lack of daylight than about everything else that had been whirling through his head the past thirty minutes.
He had meant it as a way to make his speech more impressive, but Harry actually did feel sick thinking about his Quidditch team at the moment. Not only was he angry they hadn't paid Ron a visit, he was also sad about it. He knew that Ron hadn't always played his best, but he was hoping that his team could look past that and stand up for him. It wouldn't have been so hard if a few people from last years' team had stayed at Hogwarts, but Katie was the only member left besides Harry, and she was still, as far as Harry knew, badly injured at St Mungo's.
Ron may not have done it single-handedly last year, Harry thought fiercely, but he did help Gryffindor win that final match against Ravenclaw. Does that count for nothing with my current team?
He hadn't told Hermione, knowing her mind was still on a certain ginger friend of theirs, but Harry had heard the discontent muttering of some on his team while walking back from the disastrous practice they'd had last night. Somehow, Jimmy and Ritchie didn't see Cormac in the same light Harry did, and he figured it was partly because they also didn't see Ron in the same light he did.
He really wanted to beat Malfoy down today. Perhaps not as much as he wanted to convince Ron and Hermione that he was a Death Eater, but still, the point remained. Could he do it with a team as broken as it seemed now? A distracted Seeker, arrogant prick Keeper, depressed Chaser and two Beaters who seemed to mis-aim every Bludger they hit last night oddly close to Harry's position?
The complete dismantling and reformation of the Gryffindor team would probably help the team issues, but besides the fact that the entire school would be gossiping about the complete collapse of Harry's hand-picked team, he didn't know if such a thing was even allowed. Would McGonagall even keep him as team Captain if he brought it up? True, it was stressful and annoying sometimes, but Professor McGonagall had trusted him with this, knowing what he'd went through last year, and to Harry, that said a lot about her, all of it good.
Besides the Quidditch disaster, Harry also had Ron and Hermione to worry about. Harry knew that Ron liked Hermione, perhaps longer than Ron would care to know about. Hermione might as well admitted her feelings about Ron in a hundred different ways over in the last two years, for all the good it did to attract Ron's attention. So he had no doubt that if they got through that conversation, not like he even wanted to imagine it, they would get together, and fast, considering that outside the castle walls, a war was happening.
There was always the chance such a relationship would fail, though, and Harry had no idea what he'd do in that situation. They'd had massive rows before, and he'd never forget their third year, but that hadn't been about their feelings towards each other insofar as you could disconnect that from their rows. If they got together and broke up, how the hell would they still be able to remain friends with Harry? Would Harry forever be stuck as someone who just had to live with the fact that his best friends couldn't stay in the same room together for two seconds?
Not only that, but what if they didn't break up? What if they were able to fight though their problems and come out stronger for it, and together? He'd still be the outsider, and could he stand the sappy sight of them holding hands and whatever else whenever they were discussing something while he still had to only have Ginny in his dreams?
He knew Hermione's nature would generally make her cautious to upset Harry with any such feelings, but considering Hermione's been waiting on Ron for years, Harry reckoned, could she resist the temptation to touch Ron whenever and however she could, to make sure he wasn't just a dream or mirage that would fade with time?
As for his feelings on Ginny, he wasn't quite sure what to do, which, considering his current train of thought, shouldn't have shocked him. Whatever he wanted to be the case, Ginny was dating Dean, and it was therefore Dean's job to help Ginny out of her slump, not Harry's. Well, mostly Dean's job, anyway. Harry could still help as a friend, but he was uncomfortable with the idea of holding a crying Ginny in his arms, especially when considering that Ginny barely got weepy, and his entire relationship with Cho revolved around tears, it seemed.
These thoughts rumbling through Harry's head, he almost didn't notice an already dressed Dean heading out of the dorm. Looking at his watch, Harry was shocked to see that it was almost seven. Seeing he had less than one-and-a-half hours before the game today, Harry started getting prepared to head down to breakfast.
Harry was sitting up in his bed, but Dean figured he was in deep thought, so he decided to save his game pep-talk for breakfast. Not that, Dean considering, pulling new robes on, I have a lot I can really say to make him feel better. What he said last night was true, and that practice went horribly.
Making his way to the common room, Dean saw a bleary-eyed Ginny sitting up on the couch, and was slightly alarmed to see that she was in her pajamas. Fearing that she'd slept here last night, he put a smile on his face and walked over to her.
"Hey there," he said, sitting down next to her. "Do I even need to tell you that you shouldn't have slept here? You know the things that have taken place on this couch before, considering we've done some of them ourselves."
His levity left his mind when she looked up at him and he saw her red-brimmed eyes. Damn, I know she had an argument with Ron before he got injured, but it wasn't her fault, and she has got to know that.
"Ginny," he said, using his hand to push up her chin so she'd meet his eyes, "you need to go up and change, get ready for the day, and then you need to talk to me about this. Talking it through will help you feel better, and I want you to feel better."
She looked at him warily, nodded, then headed for the stairs leading to her dormitory. As annoying as it was considering her unhappiness, Dean was aroused while watching her bum in the thin pajamas she was wearing.
This is so not the time for this, he thought, and the thought was accentuated by Harry coming into the common room, looking down himself. Why do I get the feeling that if I got a good look at every member of our team that we'd all look depressed today?
"Hey, Harry," he said, as Harry didn't seem like he was drowning in a sea of thoughts at the moment, "I'll be down to breakfast shortly. Just waiting for Ginny to come down."
Harry nodded, stifled a yawn, and continued out the room without a word, looking slightly put-out.
I know I've never done anything to purposely upset Harry, he pondered, considering Harry's attitude towards him lately, so why's he been acting like this? Sure, he was like a bomb last year, but he didn't treat me any worse. Hell, he's been fine this year with me until recently. What's-
"Hi, Dean," Ginny said, and his thoughts left him as she gave him a nice, long kiss.
Breaking apart, Ginny continued as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened, which, Dean considered happily, was pretty much the case.
"I know you wanted to talk, but we do have a game today, and we should probably-"
"No, Ginny," he said, more sternly than he'd have liked to, probably, noticing the slight scowl that was now on Ginny's face, "we have got to talk this through. You know it's not your fault Ron's in the hospital wing right now, no matter what's going on between you two."
"It's not just Ron," she replied, and Dean figured that while she was trying to sound annoyed, she couldn't get the tint of sadness out of her tone, "I also had a row with Hermione yesterday. We haven't talked since, and with as angry as Hermione was, I don't know when we will."
Dean was floored at this. Hermione Granger, angry? Sure, she was pissed after the Yule Ball, but besides then, I don't think I've ever seen her in a state that could be reasonably considered angry.
"Did this have anything to do with your argument with Ron a few days ago," he asked slyly, and she looked up at him quickly.
"How did you-"
"I kind of put the pieces together while I went down to visit Ron yesterday," he admitted, then almost slapped himself when another piece of the puzzle fell into place. "You didn't refuse to visit Ron because you had a row with him, you refused to visit Ron because you knew Hermione would be there!"
Ginny nodded glumly, and Dean almost laughed when he realized what the picture on the puzzle he'd put together showed.
"Um," he started, not sure exactly the right way to phrase this, "is she-are they getting-"
"Yes, Dean," she said, exasperated at how Dean could do the things he did with her and still get flustered at the thought of another couple together, "if it was completely up to Hermione, they'd probably be snogging right now. Not that Ron would put up any resistance considering his-"
She stopped herself, and while Dean wasn't quite sure how she was intending on ending the sentence, he was happy she didn't. Dean had been sleeping in the same room as Ron for over five years now, and he had an inkling of Ron's feelings towards Hermione considering the things he'd sometimes moan in his sleep. Dean knew Neville and Harry would never bring it up, but he had to keep a very tight leash on Seamus about it sometimes.
He sat still for a second, and an uncomfortable question came to mind considering the evidence of Hermione rowing with Ginny about what she'd said to Ron.
"Ginny, do I want to know what you said to Ron after I left you three in the passageway," he asked slowly.
Ginny shook her head.
"No, Dean, you probably don't, which is good, because I wasn't going to tell you. My friendship with Hermione is already all kinds of fucked up, and I don't want the same to happen with you."
Dean was always surprised to hear how freely Ginny would cuss, but considering Ron never went much in the way of hiding it himself, he figured it was just some Weasley trait that was passed down like everything else in the family.
"Ginny, I can see how all this might be getting you a bit down, but what happened to Ron, well, you can't blame yourself for it. It was the Slytherins, or so the rumor is, and not your fault!"
Ginny looked straight into Dean's eyes, and he saw that some uncomfortable truth was just about to be revealed, and he hoped he'd be strong enough to withstand it.
"Dean, that's not exactly true. I need to tell someone this, and it might as well be you. Yesterday, before Ron started to practice..."
It was heaven. It was bliss. Her body was tingling and her face was consumed with flames. Of passion, most certainly, but it was only their first kiss, and she was not going to end it by jumping into the bed with Ron and straddling him.
Besides, she thought, breaking away from a Ron who looked like he'd been named Minister of Magic, Madam Pomfrey did say that no strenuous activity would be allowed.
Hermione let out a giggle that soon turned into a real gut-busting laugh. She really hoped Ron didn't take it badly, considering how he could misinterpret almost everything, but he shocked her by joining in. Out of relief, Hermione suspected, but she wouldn't bring that up. Now that that was out of the way, they still had important things to discuss.
After a minute or so, the laughter died down, and Hermione was shocked to feel Ron holding her hand. He looked embarrassed, but determined, and Hermione moved it so their fingers would be interlocked.
"Ron, I-," she started, sounding flustered, but Ron stopped her.
"Don't, Hermione, not right now. I need to process what just bloody happened."
"Language," she whispered, but she couldn't really care about something as minor as 'bloody' right now, so she just shut her mouth and started stroking Ron's hand with her thumb, something he seemed to have no qualms about.
"Hermione," he started after a minute of this, "why did you choose now to tell me? Did the idea of me laying in a hospital bed turn you on or something?"
"RON," she shrieked, and her face became very red, but she saw that he was chuckling, and figured it was just Ron doing what he did best, lightening up the mood. "No, Ron. Actually, I did it because Harry told me about the argument you got into with Ginny a few days ago."
The laughter from Ron died instantly, and so did the light in his eyes. While he didn't let go of her hand, he did shift slightly so it was harder to hold onto it, and he looked away from her.
"Oh, yeah, well, I probably shouldn't have said what I did to Ginny, and I took what she said a bit hard-"
"Ron, I know you don't want to talk about it," she said, really wanting him to look back at her, "and I won't press the issue for now, but I did have one question. The mood you've been in these past days, that was solely because she told you I snogged Krum?"
Ron's ears became a darker shade of red, and he shifted uncomfortably again, but he did turn back to look her in the eyes as he answered.
"Yeah, it was. That hurt me a lot, a hell of a lot more than catching Dean snogging Ginny, than anything else she said. And I'm sorry for being a prat to you, to everyone these past days, but every time I closed my eyes I'd bloody see you and Krum snogging and...well, more."
He averted his eyes from her before finishing, and Hermione was amazed she hadn't thought that Ginny's comment, while certainly not leaving an innocent picture, would lead Ron's mind down this trail.
"Ron, we will talk about this later, but just so you know, I never did anything more than snog Viktor, and the kiss we just shared was better in every conceivable way, starting with the fact that it was with who I wanted it to be with."
She was surprised to hear Ron's voice as he next spoke, as it sounded like he was talking through moderate tears.
"I've messed up so bad, Hermione. I should have really asked you to the Ball. I feel like a downright prat and coward for all the missed signs and opportunities to tell you how I felt. I just didn't think..."
He trailed off, but Hermione knew what he'd been about to say, and though she knew of his insecurities, considering she'd laid them out perfectly for Ginny to see, it still slightly broke her heart to hear that Ron hadn't thought she felt for him what he felt for her.
"Ron," she said, and he looked up at her with his red, teary eyes, causing Hermione to tear up a little herself, "we'll have to work on getting your self-esteem up, at the very least. I've never had eyes for anyone but you, Ron, not really. I've never thought of anyone but you. We've both made mistakes these past years, not just you. Neither of us is perfect, but we'll work past it. Together."
He smiled, and Hermione passed him some tissues from the box on the nightstand. He dabbed at his eyes while he replied, and judging on the question, Hermione thought it was so he didn't have to directly look at her.
"'Together'. Does that mean that you," he paused, looking like he was reaching for the right phrase, "you want to be an item with me outside of the Christmas party?"
"Ron, I'd be proud to call you my boyfriend to anyone and everyone who asked."
"And I'd be the same to call you my girlfriend to anyone who asked," he replied, smiling at her with beet-red ears, "except Snape. Or McGonagall, could you imagine telling her?"
Hermione let out a big laugh, and she realized that the weight that she'd felt on herself for the past years had been completely lifted from her, most liking by a ginger-haired handsome man.
Ron grinned, and Hermione knew that he'd always been happy when he could get a laugh out of her.
"Well, now that that's been settled," he said, a bit sadly, "I didn't get a great amount of sleep, and I don't want to hear the commentary for the match, so..."
Hermione very much suspected why this was the case, but she decided they'd start working on his inferiority complex while he wasn't lying in a hospital bed.
"That's fine, Ron. I'll stay with you," she said, and laughed at the expression on his face. "You know I don't really like Quidditch all that much, and my favorite player on the team isn't playing, so I don't figure I'll miss much."
Ron smiled, and Hermione could indeed tell he was tired. She slowly laid her head down on his chest, much like she did yesterday, gauging his reaction in case it was too much too quickly, though he seemed perfectly content with it. She turned so she was looking at his face this time instead of his feet. She gasped slightly when she felt his right hand start stroking her hair.
"Is this fine," he asked, and though he was obviously worn-out, he still sounded a bit nervous.
"It's perfect," she sighed, relishing the feeling, "but your hand, doesn't it hurt?"
"If it does, it's worth it," he muttered, and Hermione could see that he'd drifted off the shores of Awakeland and into the calming Sea of Sleep. Hermione was also pleased that his hand was still on top of her head, though she'd very much regret to risk awaking him by moving away.
Well, Pomfrey didn't complain yesterday, she thought, a bit drowsy herself, figuring the combination of disturbed sleep last night and relief from this conversation might explain it, can't see why she'd be unhappy now.
Her thoughts drifted off, and so did she, and neither of them stirred when, fifteen minutes later, Madam Pomfrey stepped out of her office to once again give them privacy, smiling as she did so.
What is going on with Malfoy?
This thought had been whirling in Harry's head ever since Dean informed him that Draco had decided not to play at breakfast, but Harry knew that it'd show incredible disloyalty to the team to skive off on the last minute and try to search the Marauder's Map for him. As it was, the only person on the team who even seemed in somewhat of a good mood was now extremely downcast, and Harry wondered if Ginny had broken up with Dean for some reason.
Of course, it'd have given Harry a foot in the door, but Harry had begun to start liking Dean again, and he knew that he didn't deserve a breakup with Ginny if it was just for some stupid reason.
Figuring he'd find out about the dynamics of the relationship later somehow, Harry pulled on his boots and looked over at his team, almost all of whom, with the exception of McLaggen, were already looking like they'd lost the match by four-hundred points.
Oliver and Angelina would have broken down into tears if they had to Captain a team that looked this dejected without even starting the match.
"Okay, team," Harry begun, not sure exactly how to deliver this pep talk. "I know we're all hoping for Ron's quick recovery, but as it hasn't happened yet, we can't let it get the team down. We have a game to win."
This sounded very hollow to Harry, and the rest of the team seemed to agree, judging by the looks on their faces. Actually, Harry didn't know if Ron had recovered or not. Knowing that Hermione was there, he hadn't wanted to have any part in disturbing the conversation they were having, or anything else they could have been doing, so he hadn't checked in on Ron before the match.
"Okay, fine," giving into his frustration on the team, "not many people here seem to care that Ron's in the hospital wing, and there's not much I can do about it. You guys more seem to care about me calling you out on it, and I won't apologize for that. In fact, if my ears didn't deceive me, I heard you two," he stopped and pointed at Jimmy and Ritchie, "grumbling about going to Professor McGonagall and trying to get her to make McLaggen the new Captain."
At the very least, they had the decency to look embarrassed about this, though it didn't win them too many points in Harry's mind.
"You guys can do that if you want," he said, trying not to let his annoyance show, "but I can promise you that she'd make a house-elf from the kitchens the Gryffindor team Captain before Cormac."
"That's it, Potter," Cormac said, standing up and pulling out his wand, "I've taken enough shit from you, and after I'm done hexing your face off, I'm going to McGonagall to file a formal complaint about you."
Harry quickly pulled his own wand out and held it up, though he wisely decided not to point it directly at Cormac, as in his anger, he might have done something he'd deeply regret later.
"I've dueled Voldemort," he said, glaring at Cormac, not noticing the automatic flinch everyone gave at the sound of the name, "but hey, you might get lucky. You might win, but I have a feeling McGonagall won't be granting you any favors if you hex me."
They stared each other down for what seemed like an eternity, and Dean looked like he was about to get up himself when the door of the locker room opened up.
Silently hoping Cormac wouldn't be stupid or angry enough to curse Harry now, Harry quickly hid is wand up his sleeves. There is no way I'm going out onto the field unarmed with this guy on my team.
Turning around, Harry saw a harried Madam Hooch taking in the scene. She didn't ask why Cormac had his wand out, so Harry figured he must have followed Harry's lead.
"You're late," she screeched, pointing at her stopwatch, "the Slytherin team are already on the field. Now follow me!"
Glancing back at his team, and not happy with what he saw, Harry led them out onto the field, the sun shining down on them, the clear day apparent. Harry heard the roar of Luna's lion hat, and it reminded him of his promise to search for her after the game. In fact, he'd probably need some of her blunt honesty and odd thoughts to cheer him up.
Shaking the hand of the new Slytherin Captain, Urquhart, and getting his fingers crushed, something else came to Harry's mind. Urquhart wasn't on the Quidditch team last year, Harry wondered, trying not to show the pain his hand was in, and Draco's been on the team since second year. Plus, his father bought the brooms they're still using. Why the hell is this new guy Captain? Why didn't Snape make Malfoy the new Captain?
Harry decided that he'd talk to Ron and Hermione about this to see what they thought, if they were in a mood to involve him, that was. Bringing his crushed hand to his broom, he flew up once the shrill sound of Hooch's whistle went off. However, he nearly fell from his broom when he heard who was commentating the match.
"And they're off, " said the arrogant voice of Zacharias Smith, a Hufflepuff-by-name-only who Harry couldn't stand, "one of the most awkwardly put together teams we've seen from Gryffindor in years. Of course, it doesn't help that Katie Bell's currently at St Mungo's. And the whole school knows what happened to their sub-par Keeper and, coincidentally, best friend of the Seeker and Captain, Harry Potter-oh look, McLaggen, Gryffindor replacement Keeper, blocked a goal. Perhaps Weasley should get injured before every Quidditch match..."
Harry was beside himself in rage. How the fuckin' hell did Smith get chosen as a commentator? Did they not do any background checks on this bastards' feelings towards Gryffindor?
"So, the only reason Weasley's not here," Smith continued in his snide voice, "is because the guy knocked himself out during a solo practice with a Quaffle, can you believe the fool-"
Harry was looking for the Snitch, tying to block out the blathering from Smith, but it was getting to him, and the Slytherin replacement for Malfoy, Harper, seemed to be covering more ground than Harry was.
"Sorry, just been informed that it's suspected that Slytherin sabotaged the Quaffle Weasley was practicing with, or that's what Professor McGonagall says. Nice save from McLaggen, by the way, Urquhart will have to try harder than that, and that makes my point, doesn't it? Why would Slytherin sabotage the Gryffindor Seeker? They love playing against that pathetic excuse for a-"
There was a loud crashing sound, and Harry quickly looked behind him and saw that Ginny had crashed into the commentator's podium, disrupting the abuse from Smith.
Madam Hooch blew her whistle and called a foul, though McLaggen was able to block Urquhart's throw. As usual, Harry spent the length of the foul looking around for the Snitch, and he thought he caught a glimmer of it near the ground of the Slytherin goalposts. Harry sped there at once, knowing that Harper was close behind him. Forcing his Firebolt to its limits, Harry arrived where he had seen the Snitch, but he couldn't locate it from here.
Frantically looking about for any sign of it, he saw Jimmy out of the corner of his eye come up behind him with a very odd expression on his face.
"Any Bludgers come your way yet, Harry," he yelled over the sounds of the crowd as McLaggen finally missed the Quaffle, and Harry thought this sounded like a pretense of being this close to him.
"No, thanks Jimmy, you two are doing great," he yelled back, flying high to get a bird's-eye view of the pitch, and to get away from Jimmy, as he hadn't liked the expression on his face at all. Harry was slightly annoyed to hear that Smith was back.
"After what I've been told was an unfortunate accident on the part of Gryffindor Chaser Ginevra Weasley, who seems to lack basic control over broom speed, I can now report that the score is 10-nothing Slytherin. McLaggen's been doing an excellent job at Keeping, and I wonder what Slytherin would have if Ronald Weasley was out there. 60, at least..."
If it wasn't for the fact that Harry wanted to win this match, he'd do a Ginny and run into the condescending prick. How this prat got into Dumbledore's Army I'll never know.
Minutes passed with no sight of the Snitch from either Harper or Harry, but Harry was far from the top of his game at this point. In these minutes, Smith implied that Bell's injuries were faked so she wouldn't have to play under Harry's leadership, Dean was only her replacement because they needed more token diversity on the team, and that Demelza's playing skills equaled that of a Manticore's.
Harry was seething with anger, and while he knew Professor McGonagall wasn't taking kindly to this, he doubted that he could get away with the same exact move that Ginny had made, but it seemed more and more like a welcoming idea the longer the match went on.
To top it off, while Dean, Ginny, and Demelza had scored at least six goals, the Slytherin Chasers seemed to have found a weakness in Cormac's defense, leading them to have two more goals over Gryffindor.
"Oh look, McLaggen has borrowed the Beater's bat from Coote, and replacement Chaser Thomas seems to be in an argument with him. And... yep, Urquhart scores, bringing it to 90-60 Slytherin. McLaggen's doing his best impression of Weasley, it seems..."
Harry turned his head, and seeing that McLaggen had indeed grabbed the bat from a confused and angry looking Ritchie, Harry flew towards the goals, quest for the Golden Snitch completely forgotten.
"CORMAC, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING? GIVE THAT BAT BACK TO-"
He could say no more, however, as Cormac had just hit a Bludger, and it smacked Harry straight in the face, knocking him from his broom and causing the world to go dark.
Madam Pomfrey was reading up on some new medical articles from St Mungo's when she heard a loud ruckus coming from outside the hospital wing. Quickly, she left her office and ran for the doors as they exploded open.
Professor McGonagall was in the lead, holding up a knocked out Harry with her wand. Behind her, what looked like the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team followed. She heard others in the hallway, but it seemed they decided to wait until the room cleared out a bit.
"Lay him here, Minerva," Pomfrey said, thinking quickly, pointing to the second bed on the left of the room, on the other side of where Ron was currently placed.
At this thought, the curtains around his bed were pulled back, and Pomfrey saw both Hermione and Ron were up, and looked aghast at the bloodied-up Harry across the room.
"Minerva, close the curtains," Pomfrey said, and as she did, Pomfrey went about cleaning his injury with a Summoned wash-rag and bowl of water.
"Quidditch again," Pomfrey asked, slightly harshly. She was surprised any of the Quidditch players were able to make it out of school intact sometimes.
"Yes," McGonagall replied swiftly, "hit by a Bludger aimed straight at him, distance of less than twenty feet."
"Seems like you were right in your idea about Slytherin doing a mass attack on your team," she said, tracing the head wound with her wand. "Which Slytherin did it?"
"Oh, it wasn't a Slytherin, Poppy," McGonagall replied angrily, "it was McLaggen, the Keeper replacement for Mr. Weasley."
"What," Pomfrey hissed, shocked, "the replacement-"
"Yes," McGonagall said tersely, "though once I'm done with him, he'll wish he was in another House. Do what you can, Poppy, I need to quell the mob outside."
Pomfrey nodded, and continued to look Harry over for injuries.
The second McGonagall came out from behind curtains, a multitude of questions came towards her.
"What happened to Harry-"
"Where's McLaggen?"
"Is he going to be-"
"Enough," she said, and though she didn't shout it, everyone immediately quieted down. Looking over them, she saw Hermione was next to Ron's bed, holding his hand.
"Miss Granger, you weren't at the match today," she asked, not recalling Hermione following her and the rest of the team here.
"No, I was here, with Ron," she said, blushing, and McGonagall wondered what exactly had transpired between the two, and decided to keep a closer watch on them. "What happened to Harry? Is he alright?"
"That prat McLaggen-"
Ginny silenced, however, due to McGonagall's glare.
"Mr. Potter was knocked out by a Bludger aimed at him by Mr. McLaggen," she said, and Hermione and Ron gasped, looking shocked. "I will deal with McLaggen's punishment, and no retribution against him shall be tolerated. Is that clear?"
She gazed over the mutinous team of Gryffindors, knowing full-well what members of her House were capable of once riled up. She saw anger in every face from the team, and she hoped McLaggen would watch his back while in the common room.
The curtains around Harry's bed opened again, and Madam Pomfrey came out.
"I've healed his head injury, so there won't even be a scar. From that, anyway," she said, looking over the crowd. "I expect he'll be fine, but I will not have you all waiting here until he gets up. He will need rest and quiet once he's up, rest and quiet he won't get if you'll all be standing around and planning the murder of McLaggen."
McGonagall held back a smile, and was happy to see that the team had the decency to at least look guilty about this. Pomfrey continued in a lighter voice.
"Two of you may stay, but you'll have to be quiet." With this, Pomfrey walked to her office, muttering about dangerous games and reckless players.
McGonagall watched as the team got together for a minute to discuss who would be left behind, and, unsurprising McGongall, Dean and Ginny were the ones to remain, the rest of them walking out the door. She heard them discussing with two other people, and if she wasn't hearing things, heard the sound of a lion roaring. She heard Ron chuckling and turned to look at him.
"Luna," he whispered to Hermione, still shaking with laughter. "Oh, I love that girl-Not, I mean, not like, you know-damn."
Hermione just shook her head, laughing herself, and situated her fingers so they interlocked with Ron's. McGonagall decided to question Pomfrey quickly before interviewing Ron about his practice yesterday, and followed Pomfrey into her office.
Shutting the door behind her, she turned to Madam Pomfrey.
"Poppy, how long has Miss Granger been here in the hospital wing with Mr. Weasley?"
"Oh, today, about four hours, yesterday, about five," she said, a smile on her face as she started to write another injury report.
"What have they been doing? They seem a bit," she paused, thinking of past interactions between the two she'd been a witness to, "a bit closer with each other than I've seen before."
"Oh, you know the answer to that, Minerva," she replied, smiling up at McGonagall, "Patient confidentiality."
"You know I hate that excuse, Poppy."
"And you know that, for me, it's never been an excuse, it's been how I treat my patients. Now, if we're going to be discussing things about each other we don't like, about your views on Quidditch..."
As the door shut behind McGonagall, awkward silence grew in the hospital wing, broken by a soft cough from Dean.
Hermione noticed that Ginny and Dean, while next to Harry, didn't seem particularly close to each other in proximity, and Dean looked like he was having a mental struggle quite unrelated to what had happened to Harry.
"So, I hate to ask," Ron said awkwardly, and Hermione saw that he looked uncomfortable, "but how much did we lose the match by?"
"It was 240-60. Harper was able to grab the Snitch right after Harry had been hit, and before Hooch blew her whistle."
Ginny had replied, but she was quiet, and she didn't turn to face Ron. Hermione wondered how much of this had to do with her being by his side.
"Harper," Ron asked, confused, "What about Malfoy? He's the Slytherin Seeker."
"Malfoy was sick or something, so he couldn't play," Ginny said, sounding tired.
Silence came again, and while Hermione thought it might help a bit if she left the room, she didn't much fancy the idea of leaving Ron's side, or his wonderfully warm hand.
"Uh, I think we need to talk about some stuff," Hermione said quietly, hoping they could clear the air without letting loose an explosion, considering McGonagall and Pomfrey were just one room away.
"You want to talk, Hermione," Ginny asked listlessly, looking over at her. Hermione saw that while she wasn't crying, her eyes had a dull look to them that Hermione had almost never seen there before, and she didn't much care for it. "Fine. Let's talk. You and Ron are together now, right? You haven't let go of his hand since we've been here, and he certainly hasn't let go of yours."
She saw Ron's ears turned red, and Hermione was feeling a little blushed herself, but she replied with a steady voice.
"Yes, Ginny, we are, and I guess, in a long about way, we have you to thank for that."
Dean looked up quickly, glancing at her and Ron's face, evidently looking to find something, and Hermione wondered what that was all about.
"Yeah, well, hope you have a good relationship and all that," she said lifelessly, "Fred and George will be happy. They had a bet with every other member of the family that it'd happen this year."
"But, Ginny," Hermione said slowly, remembering her complete denial at knowing she had liked Ron, "you said you had no idea that I-"
"I lied," she said bluntly. "I was already torn into a hundred pieces by you, why give you the chance to set the pieces on fire?"
Things became quiet again, which worked out well, as Professor McGonagall came striding out of Pomfrey's office and headed for Ron.
"Mr. Weasley, I've been informed by Madam Pomfrey that you're doing well, and she said that she'll look you over later today, and if that goes well, she'll be discharging you."
Ron looked up in wonder, probably thinking the same thing Hermione was thinking: When did Pomfrey ever release someone who got injured like Ron did so quickly?
"Before that, however," McGonagall continued, pulling up a chair and sitting down, "I wanted to talk to you about what happened yesterday during your Quidditch practice. I've been informed by Madam Pomfrey that Miss Granger would probably prefer to stay during this, and as long as it's fine with you, Mr. Weasley, it's fine with me."
Hermione blushed deeply, seeing that McGonagall's eyes flickered to their entwined hands. I realize that Ron meant it as a joke, but I really wouldn't want to talk to McGonagall about what's now going on between Ron and I.
"It's fine, Professor, I want her to stay," Ron said quickly, though his ears were a bit red. "I don't know how much I can really tell you, Professor. It started off like a normal practice. I did the spell correctly, and it was working fine."
"Well, for starters, Mr. Weasley," she asked, taking him in, "why were you practicing alone that afternoon when you were going to have an extensive team practice after dinner?"
"Well, actually," Ron started, and Hermione could tell he didn't really want to talk about this, "I've been a bit... short with the rest of the team recently, and I get nervous when others watch me practice, so I thought it'd just be best to practice without them around for a bit."
"After you Charmed the Quaffle, did you notice anything different about its movements?"
"Yeah, it was, um," he tapped his fingers on his right hand on the bed sheet, trying to find the right word, "erotic-NO! Sorry, erratic-"
Hermione used her hand that wasn't with Ron's to cover her mouth for a few seconds, as she was trying very hard not to laugh. She could tell that Ron was completely mortified, but it was just too damn funny. To her credit, McGonagall made no comment on it, though the corner of her mouth was twitching. She simply asked Ron to explain how it was acting differently.
"Well, it," Ron was flustered, but he seemed to be getting a grip on himself, probably due to the fact no one commented on his error, "you know, usually it flies directly at the goals and completely avoids me? Well, it sometimes swerved straight at me, which is how it got my hand. It also would fly straight for the hoops, and right before it got to me, just stop and back up again, which it never did before."
Professor McGonagall's eyes flickered, and asked if, in Ron's opinion, he thought the Quaffle was trying to hurt him, or if it doing so was an accident.
"No, not really," he said slowly, "I think that was just, um, incidental. I don't think that was the main motive. Which is strange, because why would a Slytherin have cursed it in a way not to attack me all the time instead of what it did?"
McGonagall seemed either to not have an answer to that question, or wasn't willing to give it.
"Forget about the Slytherins for a second, Mr. Weasley," she said, her chin now perched on her hand, "is there anyone you've been in a dispute with recently? You said you've been 'short' with the rest of the team. Why?"
Before Ron had opened his mouth to answer, the door to the hospital wing was slammed open, and Hermione saw Ginny's red hair as she run from the room, Dean in close pursuit. Right then, a terrible thought came to Hermione, and looking at Ron, it had come to him as well. His mouth just hung open, and before McGonagall could ask if he was alright, Hermione spoke up.
"Professor," she said quietly, and McGonagall turn to look at her, "Ron got into an argument a few days ago... With Ginny..."