This chapter will have dialogue in it from my fic Twelve Kisses.

Chapter 137: Weasley Is Our King

Over the next two weeks, life seemed like one dangerous but exciting intrigue after another. We were resisting Umbridge right under her very nose, doing the very thing she and the Ministry most feared, and every meeting we would learn something new, or improve on something we knew.

Some of us had very triumphant moments. Like Neville, who had successfully disarmed Hermione (which in his eyes was something that was truly amazing), Colin, who had mastered the Impediment Jinx after three meetings' hard effort, and Parvati, who had produced such a good Reductor Curse that she had reduced the table carrying all the Sneakoscopes to dust.

Sometimes it was almost impossible to fix a regular night of the week for the DA meetings, as we had to accommodate three separate: team's Quidditch practices, which were often rearranged due to bad weather conditions, but Hermione soon devised a very clever method of communicating the time and date of the next meeting to all the members in case we needed to change it at short notice, because it would look suspicious if people from different Houses were seen crossing the Great Hall to talk to each other too often. She gave each of the members of the DA a fake Galleon (which I foolishly thought was real at first, but was still impressed by).

"You see the numerals around the edge of the coins?" Hermione said, holding one up for examination at the end of our fourth meeting. "On real Galleons that's just a serial number referring to the goblin who cast the coin. On these fake coins, though, the numbers will change to reflect the time and date of the next meeting. The coins will grow hot when the date changes, so if you're carrying them in a pocket you'll be able to feel them. We take one each, and when Harry sets the date of the next meeting he'll change the numbers on his coin, and because I've put a Protean Charm on them, they'll all change to mimic his."

Some people have Hermione a very skeptical look. Others, like me, gave her looks of admiration.

"Well, I thought it was a good idea," she said uncertainly, "I mean, even if Umbridge asked us to turn out our pockets, there's nothing fishy about carrying a Galleon, is there? But ... well, if you don't want to use them-"

"You can do a Protean Charm?" said Terry.

"Yes," said Hermione.

"But that's ... that's NEWT standard, that is," he said in an awestruck voice.

"Oh," said Hermione, trying to look modest. "Oh ... well ... yes, I suppose it is."

"How come you're not in Ravenclaw with brains like yours?"

"Well, the Sorting Hat did seriously consider putting me in Ravenclaw during my Sorting," said Hermione cheerfully, "but it decided on Gryffindor in the end. So, does that mean we're using the Galleons?"

Everyone came up and received one. Harry looked sideways at Hermione.

"You know what these remind me of?" he said.

"No, what's that?"

"The Death Eaters' scars. Voldemort touches one of them, and all their scars burn, and they know they've got to join him."

"Well ... yes," said Hermione quietly, "that is where I got the idea ... but you'll notice I decided to engrave the date on bits of metal rather than on our members' skin."

"Yeah ... I prefer your way," said Harry, grinning, as he slipped his Galleon into his pocket. "I suppose the only danger with these is that we might accidentally spend them."

"Fat chance," I said in a glum voice as I inspected the galleon, "I haven't got any real Galleons to confuse it with."

The first Quidditch match of the season, Gryffindor versus Slytherin, drew nearer, and the pressure was on. Our DA meetings were put on hold because Angelina insisted on almost daily practices. Usually the teachers got in on the action too. Especially Professor McGonagall, who cared about beating Slytherin so much, that she actually didn't give us any homework in the week leading up to the match.

"I think you've got enough to be getting on with at the moment,' she said casually. We could hardly believe our ears until she looked directly at Harry and I and said grimly, "I've become accustomed to seeing the Quidditch Cup in my study, boys, and I really don't want to have to hand it over to Professor Snape, so use the extra time to practice, won't you?"

Snape was also doing things on the sake of the competition. He had booked the Quidditch pitch for Slytherin practice so often that us Gryffindors had difficulty getting on it to play. He was also turning a deaf ear to the many reports of Slytherin attempts to hex Gryffindor players in the corridors. When Alicia turned up in the hospital wing with her eyebrows growing so thick and fast she could hardly speak and could hardly even move her mouth, Snape insisted that she must have attempted a Hair-thickening Charm on herself and refused to listen to the fourteen eye-witnesses who insisted they had seen the Slytherin Keeper, Miles Bletchley, hit her from behind with a jinx while she worked in the library.

Though Harry seemed at times overly confident, I for one felt as if I would crash and burn. I was no Oliver Wood, nor would I ever be one, but the team insisted that I was improving, even comparing me to a few famous Quidditch Keepers. Even Fred had said that I might yet make him and George proud, and that they were seriously considering admitting I was related to them, something they assured me they had been trying to deny for four years, despite my red hair, freckles, and last name.

One thing that was really starting to annoy me was the Slytherins, throwing their jabs. Some of them seventh-years, who were considerably larger than I was, muttered as they passed me in the corridors, "Got your bed booked in the hospital wing, Weasley?"

When the great ferret imitated me dropping the Quaffle (which he did whenever we came within sight of each other), I couldn't help but feel like shit. Which was pretty much every single fucking day.

The morning of the match dawned bright and cold. I woke up early, sitting on my bed and hugging my knees, deep in thought.

I wish I could have written Bill or something. He would have known what to say. Unfortunately, with the fear of letters being intercepted, I hadn't written him anything, as I didn't want that toad knowing our fucking business.

"You all right?" said Harry, who had just woken up.

I nodded but stayed quiet. I felt like if I opened my mouth, I would puke all over the floor.

"You just need some breakfast," Harry said encouragingly . "C'mon."

The Great Hall was filling up fast when we arrived, the talk louder and the mood more exuberant than usual. As we passed the Slytherin table, I kept my focus straight ahead, so not to catch their eye. Their jeers were enough.

We received a rousing welcome at the Gryffindor table, where everyone was wearing red and gold, though none of that seemed to calm me. I plopped down on the bench and gazed at my empty plate.

"For energy," he said.

"I must've been mental to do this," I croaked. "Mental."

"Don't be thick," said Harry firmly, passing me a choice of cereals, 'you're going to be fine. It's normal to be nervous."

"I'm fucking rubbish. I'm lousy. I can't play to save my fucking life. What was I bloody thinking?"

"Get a grip," said Harry sternly. "Look at that save you made with your foot the other day, even Fred and George said it was brilliant."

"That was an accident," I whispered miserably. "I didn't mean to do it-I slipped off my broom when none of you were looking and when I was trying to get back on I kicked the Quaffle by accident."

"Well," said Harry, "a few more accidents like that and the game's in the bag, isn't it?"

Hermione and Ginny sat down opposite us wearing red and gold scarves, gloves and rosettes.

"How're you feeling?" Ginny asked me, as Hermione looked at my cereal with a "this won't do" face and started piling bacon and eggs onto a plate.

"He's just nervous," said Harry.

"Well, that's a good sign, I never feel you perform as well in exams if you're not a bit nervous," said Hermione, trying to be encouraging. Trying.

"Hello," said a vague and dreamy voice from behind us. Luna had drifted over from the Ravenclaw table. Many people were staring at her and a few were openly laughing and pointing; she had on a hat shaped like a life-size lion's head, which if I wasn't nervous as fuck, I would have been impressed by.

"I'm supporting Gryffindor," said Luna, pointing at her hat. "Look what it does."

She reached up and tapped the hat with her wand. It opened its mouth wide and gave an extremely realistic roar that made everyone in the vicinity jump.

"It's good, isn't it?" said Luna happily. "I wanted to have it chewing up a serpent to represent Slytherin, you know, but there wasn't time. Anyway ... good luck, Ronald!"

She drifted away. Angelina came hurrying towards us accompanied by Katie and Alicia, whose eyebrows had mercifully been returned to normal by Madam Pomfrey.

"When you're ready," she said, "we're going to go straight down to the pitch, check out conditions and change."

"We'll be there in a bit," Harry told her. "Ron's just got to have some breakfast."

"Ron, you have to eat something." Hermione said, as she moved to sit beside me and rubbed my back, my cereal still sitting in front of me, untouched.

I stared at the bowl with no desire to eat a thing. I appreciated Hermione's help in trying to get me to calm my nerves, but I just couldn't shake the feeling that I was going to mess up.

"Ronnnnnn?" said Hermione in a sing-song voice, pulling me out of my thoughts.

I looked over at her and seen that she had a spoonful of cereal in her hand, flying it around like I was a baby.

"Come on Ron." said Hermione with a huge grin on her face. "Here comes the broom trying to get inside the broom closet. Open your mouth and let it innnnnnnn."

I couldn't help but laugh. It was so silly, so adorable, so Hermione. I rolled my eyes and obeyed, allowing Hermione to 'fly' the food into my mouth.

Hermione smiled. "Am I going to have to feed you the rest? I can get quite loud you know."

"No." I said, taking the spoon from her hand. "I think I can take it from here. But thanks."

"Anytime."said Hermione with a chuckle.

I sat there and ate the rest of my cereal, as well as everything else Hermione had gotten for me. Then I got up to make my way with the rest of them.

However, I froze midway. I felt as if my feet weighed 1,000 lbs each, and found himself unable to move them.

"Come on Ron." said Harry. "Don't wanna be late to your first of many wins."

I had ambled over to them looking lost and desperate.

"Good luck, Ron," said Hermione, standing on tiptoe and kissing me on the cheek. "And you, Harry-"

It took me a few seconds to register what had just happened. Did Hermione really just kiss me on the cheek? It's not like she kissed Harry also. She kissed me only, and wished me good luck. And thought I was still nervous, I found that the nerves for the game I had went completely out the window, and was replaced by Hermione's kiss.

I came to myself slightly as we walked back across the Great Hall. I touched the spot on my face where Hermione had kissed me, still trying not register what had just happened, and trying really hard to keep the image of it being on my lips rather than my cheek.

As we made our way to the pitch, I could see Harry's mouth moving, but the thoughts of the kiss was clouding everything else, so I really didn't pay attention to anything he was saying.

Angelina had changed already and was talking to the rest of the team when we entered. We pulled on our robes (and I was so nervous, I struggled until Alicia took pity on me and helped), then sat down to listen to the pre-match talk while the babble of voices outside grew steadily louder as the crowd came pouring out of the castle towards the pitch.

"OK, I've only just found out the final line-up for Slytherin," said Angelina, looking over a piece of parchment. "Last year's Beaters, Derrick and Bole, have left, but it looks as though Montague's replaced them with the usual gorillas, rather than anyone who can fly particularly well. They're two blokes called Crabbe and Goyle, I don't know much about them-"

"We do," said Harry and I together.

"Well, they don't look bright enough to tell one end of a broom from the other," said Angelina, pocketing her parchment, "but then I was always surprised Derrick and Bole managed to find their way on to the pitch without signposts."

"Crabbe and Goyle are in the same mould," Harry assured her.

As the crowd grew louder, I couldn't help but feel sick. I was about to go in front of the entire school and Hermione and embarrass myself.

"It's time," said Angelina in a hushed voice, looking at her watch. "C'mon everyone ... good luck."

We marched out of the changing room, brooms in hand. The cheering grew louder, but there was also singing, which I found odd. No one ever sang at a match before.

The Slytherin team was standing waiting for us. They were wearing some crown shaped badges on their jerseys. There were words etched on them, but from a distance, I couldn't make them out. The new Captain, Montague, was built like Harry's fat ass cousin. Behind him was Crabbe and Goyle, looking like neanderthals with clubs. Malfoy stood to one side, tapping his badge and smirking at Harry. I finally got a look of why was on the badge, and I wanted to punch him in the bloody mouth.

There, in bold black were the words: Weasley Is Our King.

Before I could react, Madam Hooch had told us to mount our brooms and had blown the whistle. I did so and took off towards the goal posts, my mind reeling.

Madam Hooch placed her whistle in her mouth and blew.

Lee Jordan's voice boomed with the commentary.

"And it's Johnson with the Quaffle, what a player that girl is, I've been saying it for years but she still won't go out with me-"

"JORDAN!" yelled Professor McGonagall.

"-just a fun fact, Professor, adds a bit of interest-and she's ducked Warrington, she's passed Montague, she's-ouch-been hit from behind by a Bludger from Crabbe ... Montague catches the Quaffle, Montague heading back up the pitch and-nice Bludger there from George Weasley, that's a Bludger to the head for Montague, he drops the Quaffle, caught by Katie Bell, Katie Bell of Gryffindor reverse-passes to Alicia Spinnet and Spinnet's away-"

I watched as the players zoomed back and forth. However, the singing was starting to get louder and louder. And I started trying to concentrate on the words.

"-dodges Warrington, avoids a Bludger-close call, Alicia-and the crowd are loving this, just listen to them, what's that they're singing?"

And as Lee paused to listen, the song rose loud and clear from the sea of green and silver in the Slytherin section of the stands:

"Weasley cannot save a thing,

He cannot block a single ring,

That's why Slytherins all sing:

Weasley is our King.

"Weasley was born in a bin

He always lets the Quaffle in

Weasley will make sure we win

Weasley is our King."

My heart dropped completely out of my body.

"-and Alicia passes back to Angelina!" Lee shouted louder, in what I gathered was an attempt to drown out the words of the song. "Come on now, Angelina-looks like she's got just the Keeper to beat!-SHE SHOOTS-SHE-aaaah"

Bletchley, the Slytherin Keeper, had saved the goal; he threw the Quaffle to Warrington who sped off with it, zig-zagging in between Alicia and Katie; the singing from below grew louder and louder as he drew nearer and nearer to me.

"Weasley is our King,

Weasley is our King,

He always lets the Quaffle in

Weasley is our King."

I tried my best to keep my eyes and focus on Warrington. I tried my hardest to block out the song.

"-and it's Warrington with the Quaffle, Warrington heading for goal, he's out of Bludger range with just the Keeper ahead-"

"Weasley cannot save a thing,

He cannot block a single ring"

"- so it's the first test for new Gryffindor Keeper Weasley, brother of Beaters Fred and George, and a promising new talent on the team-come on, Ron!"

I lost focus and dived wildly, his arms wide, and the Quaffle had soared between them straight through the central hoop.

"Slytherin score!" came Lee's voice amid the cheering and booing from the crowds below, "so that's ten-nil to Slytherin-bad luck, Ron."

The Slytherins sang even louder:

"WEASLEY WAS BORN IN A BIN

HE ALWAYS LETS THE QUAFFLE IN!"

"and Gryffindor back in possession and it's Katie Bell tanking up the pitch-" cried Lee, however, his words were getting hard to make out with the fucking Slytherins singing at the top of their motherfucking lungs.

"WEASLEY WILL MAKE SURE WE WIN

WEASLEY IS OUR KING!

WEASLEY IS OUR KING,

WEASLEY IS OUR KING

WEASLEY WAS BORN IN A BIN ..."

"-and it's Warrington again," bellowed Lee, "who passes to Pucey, Pucey's off past Spinnet, come on now, Angelina, you can take him - turns out you can't-but nice Bludger from Fred Weasley I mean, George Weasley, oh, who cares, one of them, anyway, and Warrington drops the Quaffle and Katie Bell-er-drops it, too-so that's Montague with the Quaffle, Slytherin Captain Montague takes the Quaffle and he's off up the pitch, come on now, Gryffindor, block him!"

"WEASLEY CANNOT SAVE A THING ..."

"-and Pucey's dodged Alicia again and he's heading straight for goal, stop it, Ron!"

The fucking song had gotten to me and I let another fucking quaffle in. I wanted to die right there.

"THAT'S WHY SLYTHERINS ALL SING

WEASLEY IS OUR KING."

The game kept going downhill from there, with me letting in two more fucking goals. It was getting to the point to where I was praying that Harry would find the Snitch and end this madness.

"-and Katie Bell of Gryffindor dodges Pucey, ducks Montague, nice swerve, Katie, and she throws to Johnson, Angelina Johnson takes the Quaffle, she's past Warrington, she's heading for goal, come on now, Angelina-GRYFFINDOR SCORE! It's forty-ten, forty-ten to Slytherin and Pucey has the Quaffle.

"-Pucey throws to Warrington, Warrington to Montague, Montague back to Pucey-Johnson intervenes, Johnson takes the Quaffle, Johnson to Bell, this looks good-I mean bad-Bell's hit by a Bludger from Goyle of Slytherin and it's Pucey in possession again."

They began to sing once again as Pucey approached me. They even had the fucking audacity to harmonize.

"WEASLEY WAS BORN IN A BIN

HE ALWAYS LETS THE QUAFFLE IN

WEASLEY WILL MAKE SURE WE WIN."

But before I knew it, Gryffindor started cheering loudly, drowning the moronic song out. I looked over and seen Harry making a spectacular dive for the Snitch, and catching it

It was over. We were saved, it did not matter that I had let in those goals, nobody would remember as long as Gryffindor had won, hopefully.

Suddenly, I saw a bludger slam into Harry's back. I looked over and seen Crabbe laughing. Dirty bastard had clubbed one at him. I started to descend.

Angelina and the rest of the team had headed over to Harry, so I knew he would be taken care of. So I headed to the locker room. I needed to be by myself.

I didn't even bother to hop into the shower. I walked right on through and kept walking until I was on the grounds, where it had began to snow.

I sat down on the cold ground under a tree in front of the lake. The giant squid wasn't waving its tentacles. Even it was disappointed in me, I wagered.

Foolish I was for thinking I could fucking play for Gryffindor. If Harry wouldn't have caught that Snitch, we would have lost and it was entirely my fault. I was pathetic. I was a sham. I allowed a fucking song to get into my head and fuck me up. Everybody had seen it, including Hermione. She would probably never like me now. Who would want to be known for dating the upset of the Gryffindor team?

I held my knees and buried my face into them. I hadn't cried in a long time, but I really couldn't help but let more than a few tears fall. I had humiliated myself and almost cost my team the game. I wanted to mount my brook and just fly home. How the bloody fuck could I face anyone after that shit?

I sat out there for as long as the warming charm I put on my clothes would allow. Finally I just said fuck it and headed back in.

When I got to the tower and climbed through the portrait hole, the first faces I saw were Harry and Hermione. I stopped in my tracks.

"Where have you been?" said Hermione anxiously, springing up.

"Walking."

"You look frozen," said Hermione. "Come and sit down!"

I walked to the fireside and sank into the chair furthest from Harry's, not looking at him. He still had the Snitch, and it zoomed over our heads.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled.

"What for?" said Harry.

"For thinking I can play Quidditch. I'm going to resign first thing tomorrow."

"If you resign," said Harry, "there'll only be three players left on the team."

I gave Harry a puzzled look. The hell did he mean?

"I've been given a lifetime ban. So've Fred and George."

"What?"

Hermione told me the full story; about Malfoy taunting Harry and my brothers, speaking on me and my family, how they all got into a fight, but the toad looking bitch only got onto Harry and the twins, banning them for life and taking their brooms. That made me feel even worse.

"This is all my fault-"

"You didn't make me punch Malfoy," said Harry angrily.

"Yeah, but if I wasn't rubbish at Quidditch-"

"-it's got nothing to do with that."

"-it was that song that fucked me up-"

"-it would've fucked anyone up."

Hermione got up and walked to the window, watching the snow swirling down against the pane.

"Look, drop it, will you!" Harry burst out. "It's bad enough, without you blaming yourself for everything!"

I shut my mouth and looked down at my clothes. After a while I said in a dull voice, "This is the worst I've ever felt in my life."

"Join the club," said Harry bitterly.

"Well," said Hermione, her voice trembling slightly. "I can think of one thing that might cheer you both up."

"Oh yeah?" said Harry skeptically.

"Yeah," said Hermione, turning away from the pitch-black, snow-flecked window, a broad smile spreading across her face. "Hagrid's back!"