#quiddich

Ron wasn't one to hate most people. Slytherins? Sure. Draco? Sure. But most people only mildly annoyed him, until he had the pleasure of bumping into you. You weren’t a nobody, just another student in the crowd. The same gilded gold and scarlet robes matching those of hundreds around you. It wasn't until the weekends when you wore your casual clothes revealing your muscles and skills often on the quidditch pitch.

Starting his 6th year, Ron has been more eager to join the Gryffindor team, getting more interested alongside his sister and best friend. A hobby would be good for him. But as soon as he started his self investigation of the past team, he couldn't stop watching you. Whether it was out of astonishment of your ability to bob and weave around the goal posts, or how you spent your time working on your physical form off the pitch. Looking at you was enough to get him excited.

Once team tryouts come around, you make the familiar trek down the hill to the stadium seeing a few familiar faces and a few new ones. A ping of competition hits your veins as you realize that everyone has to try out again for their positions. Yes.. it was fair, but you worked so hard over the summer and didn’t know if it was all worth it. If one of these new faces could take your place. Even the idea started a fire in you. You kept your head down and stayed to yourself.

After a short period, Harry and Ginny began explaining the rundown. A few games would commence and they would be watching from their positions to see who would be best fit and where. You’ve always been the chaser. Looking around you couldn't figure out who wanted what position. Harry split up the students and you got on your broom ready to put up a fight.

Up to the goals, Ronald Weasley sloppily takes a breath in, sizing himself up to the students on the other side. You could tell he was nervous, but you knew that it was you versus him. You needed to get the quaffle through his posts in order to win. And you believed that would be easy.

A whistle is blown and off you go. Naturally you work with your fellow students from years past, trying to communicate and weave alongside some of the newer students. Quaffle in hand, you fly easily up to the right furthermost goal and make it easily. Ron's face was dumbfounded, realizing this was going to be harder than he thought. You smile as you rush away attempting to find another to gain more points. Relief rushes over you as the wind whips through your hair, loving the feeling of the sky beneath your broom.

After two more goals made by your skill, Ron's face was openly annoyed and frustrated. This wasn't the friendly game of quidditch he was expecting. He wasn't necessarily wanting people to go easy on him, but you were playing rough and for once he couldn't keep up.

With the quaffle tucked under your arm, you find yourself whipping towards the goal posts again, attempting to get one final goal before time is up. Vigorously you looked at Ron and pelt the large ball towards him almost in a joking manner. With irritated furrowed brows, Ron's motions were angry and quick, it was working in his favor as he kicked the quaffle directly back to you, almost knocking you off your broom. With another blow of a whistle, all the students in the air come to a shared circle near Harry in the center, eager to hear their notes.

In your peripheral, you could see Ron fly to the opposite side of the semi-circle, throwing a few daggers your way. You weren’t sure why he was so upset, you were playing as if we were another team. You rolled your eyes and tried to focus on Harry.

“Wonderful playing. Seriously, that was better than we expected.” He nods to each of the students as we all catch our breath.

”Now most of you will keep your positions, with a few small changes.” He continues. Your breath hitches, hands clenching in anticipation.

“Y/n, you did great as a chaser last year.. and today for that matter. But me and Ginny think your strength might be used better as a beater.” His voice understanding, knowing how much you loved being a chaser. You let out a sigh, a smile plastered on your face trying to stay cool. You catch a glance over at Ron who was already looking at you. His brows still furrowed and a frown fixed on his face. You shrug your shoulders at him mouthing “what?” All he does is roll his eyes and face back at Harry. You barely knew the kid but it seemed like he already made his mind up about you.

After the meeting was over, you head over to your duffle bag pausing to catch Ron standing back looking at the pitch.

“Hey!” You say stomping your way closer to him. “What the hell is your problem?”

He turns, taking a step back not expecting you to approach. He cleared his throat before responding, fixing his posture standing a little taller.

“You’re the one who was playing dirty! We're all trying out for the same team.” He looked slightly down at you, severe annoyance dripping with every word. “You act like you own the place.”

“I had to fight to keep my place, you were fighting to take mine.” You spat. He shook his head, chuckling.

“You don't get it do you.” You said looking up at him. “ This is all I have. All I have is quidditch. I eat, breathe, and live this sport. You come in your sixth year and wonder why I'm playing rough?” The words were truthful and vulnerable. His eyes soften slightly but his body language stayed strong.

“You better stick to what you're good at before coming at me for being good at what i am.” You shove your finger in his chest before turning and walking away. You swear you could feel steam coming from your ears. If he thought you would take it easy on him now he was wrong.

——⭑⋆⋆⋆⭑——

At the great hall, you sat in the front closest to the professors table reading a small romantic muggle fiction book enjoying this time spent alone. Down the table you could hear students partaking in conversations with each other as the dinner came to an end. You look up for only a moment to catch sight of a certain red head who doesn't look away from you. Frustrated, you closed your book and got up to leave, taking the long way around the Slytherin table in order to not have to walk past that idiot.

Ron breaks eye contact with you and looks at Harry. “What is that girl's problem?” His voice muffled attempting to speak through the food he was chewing.

“She’s the best quidditch player in the school.” Harry stated, not even missing a beat.

“It’s gone all to her head.” Ron chuffs while taking another bite of food. ”You saw it Hermione, the way she kept centering me out.” Hermione just shakes her head. Yes she was in the stands and she saw the whole game.

“Ronald, you could learn something from her.” Hermione says seeing how frustrated he was.

“Oy? Are you mad you got beat by a girl?” Fred sits down next to Ron

“Couldn't help but overhear dear brother.” George takes the seat opposite. Both of the arms wrap around Ron's shoulders and swing him back and forth.

“Nothing like a strong woman that breaks a man.” Fred sings. “We're lucky she’s one of us!”

“One of us! One of us!” George beats his chest standing up from the table.

“Oh Christ.” Ron puts his head in his hands. What has he gotten himself into?

——⭑⋆⋆⋆⭑——

It’s the first practice since the team meetup earlier this week. You arrive early and get dressed, keeping time to wax your broom well before the other students show up. Enjoying the silence of the Gryffindor dressing room, you lay on your back on a bench and take deep breaths, trying to calm your nerves. You felt like you needed to prove something to Ron. It’s always been you having to prove yourself in a male dominated space and now there was another man, wait no, boy* who thought he could just start up the sport one day after being bored. It was frustrating.

The cloth entrance softly opened. You didn’t open your eyes imagining it was just the wind, but dull footsteps get louder as they get closer to you. You open your eyes peering up at just who you were dreading seeing.

“Hey.” He stood looking down at you. His voice is soft and completely different than the last time you two met. You clear your throat.

“Hmmm.” You mumble back, closing your eyes again.

“I wanted to speak with you.” He continues taking a seat on the ground next to you.

“And what’s that.” Your voice is strong trying to attempt a sense of stoicism.

“I wanted to apologize.” His body shifts underneath his weight, his bag sliding off of his shoulders with a thump. Your eyes open turning to face him. You don't respond, waiting for him to say more,

“I just..” His hands run through his hair, freshly washed and soft falling back exactly where it was before. “ I was wrong. And I came into this sport all wrong.” His voice was low, his eyes unable to meet yours, focusing on his fingers picking skin off his thumb. “It’s always just been fun to me. Something to watch and enjoy. I didn’t recognize that you cared so much about it, or that someone our age would care this much about it.” His shoulders shrug taking a second to take in your reaction.

“All my life I've had to fight to be where i was.” You say quietly back to him. “If I couldn't work to be the best, what was the point?” You sigh feeling your emotions take over you. Ron looks over at you, feeling a sense of understanding.

“My brothers always were better than me. Then when Ginny joined I felt like I was the last sibling to not have something worth doing. Percy had his prefects bullshit. Charlie, Fred, and George were successful in the sport. Bill and those damn dragons.” Ron's voice trailed off. You were an only child, the thought of having to compare yourself to your many siblings sounded hard and you could empathize with him.

“Quidditch always finds those who need it.” Your say turning towards him, a small smile creeping over your face. He returns the gesture and laughs.

“Yeah you could say that.” He shuffles to his feet and holds out his hand. You grab it sitting up on the bench.

“That doesn't mean ill go easy on you Weasley.” You say to him jokingly, shaking his hand, your grip firm.

“Yeah I heard I could learn a thing or two from you.” His cheeks flushed slightly.

You let go of his hand and stand up walking towards the entrance of the changing room.

”well let's go.” You say over your shoulder. You both had roughly 45 minutes before practice began and you saw it as a better ice breaker activity between the two of you. Ron's eyes widened realizing that you were serious. He caught up and met you at the edge of the doorway.

Your conversation made him see you differently. You were just proud of what you had worked for, your body showed the time you dedicated to perfecting your craft. He could see your shoulder muscles from under the Quidditch jersey, loosely fitted on your frame, your arms strong and intimidating but he liked it. He shook his head trying to rattle the thoughts as he followed you outside and to the center of the pitch.

”okay. I'll send you quaffles and all you have to do is make sure they DON'T make it through the goal post. Got it?” One of your eyebrows raised as you mount your broom. Ron follows suit nodding in approval. A beam of sweat appeared on the bridge of his nose. You lifted off, watching Ron fly to the goal posts. You could tell he was still nervous but he was more confident than a few days ago.

Without warning, you send a quaffle to his right. Ron yelps as he bolts over and uses his arm to knock it from reach.

“NICE!” You say flying over and retrieving the quaffle. Ron looked at you with wide eyes.

“Just like a real game alright. No one will let you know where they’re gonna throw it. You have to anticipate my moves. Just watch me.” You say looking at Ron, trying to read his facial expressions. His eyes were fixed on you, not just the ball but all of you. Almost in a daze, you throw the ball to his left and he misses it by a small margin. You laugh lightly.

”Alright don't watch me that close.” You joke seeing him readjust his head gear and let out a gust of air. Something about him was endearing. He was trying his best. Something a little dorky about him was overtaking your thoughts. You took a breath before attempting to send another quaffle through the goal post. Coming directly at him, he uses his head to bounce the ball back and out of sight. You whoop and holler.

“YES! THAT'S IT!” You fly over raising your hands in the air for a high five, excited at his ability to adapt.

He reaches out to high five you but grips your hand as he slips, almost pulling you off your broom. A scream exits your mouth as his arm wrapped around your torso holding you up in the Knick of time.

“It got you. I’m so sorry. I got you.” His breath on your neck trying to get you back on your broom. From down below, a loud bellowing voice echoed up to you two.

”HANDS OFF THE NEW BEATER.” Fred's shouts, bumping into George and pointing up at you two. You quickly recover yourself back to your broom and Ron to his not knowing how that would’ve looked from down there.

Fred leans over to George, “5 sickles they kiss by the end of next week.” George nods in approval

“Make it 7 and you're on.”

——⭑⋆⋆⋆⭑——

Practice went on smoothly and you and Ron had little interactions throughout. Being a beater meant Fred, George, and you would be working together on and off the field if anyone got hurt and needed to tap out. Now being a part of a more dangerous position on the field, your focus needed to be tighter than ever. It was hard when every few minutes you had this innate feeling to check on Ron.

“Y/n lock in!” George yells seeing you distracted slightly. It wasn't like you. You shook your head to clear your mind and try to focus on the other two red headed boys on the field. Godric help you, a boy would not distract you on this forsaken field.

The sun began to set, letting everyone know it was getting late and practice was coming to an end. Happily everyone flew down to say their goodbyes and best wishes for our first game over the following weekend. You smiled to everyone and walked to your duffle, always the first at practice and the last to leave. Small footsteps behind you reveal you weren’t the last one. You took a chance and spoke up.

”Can't get enough practice from me eh Weasley.” You say not turning around, still meddling with your bag and uniform in front of you. A small chuckle reveals you were right. You zip up your bag and turn to him.

“I was just wondering if you wanted to walk back together. It’s getting a little dark.” He shuffles hand out to you. You raise your eyebrows at his initiation.

“Oh i can hold my own bag thank you, but sure.. ill walk you back. I know it gets dark fast.” You nudge playfully; Ron rolling his eyes back. You walk in silence for a moment just leaving the pitch and making your way up the path towards the castle.

“Thank you for giving me a second chance.” Ron says quietly, his shoulders brushing against you as you walk. A blush creeping on your face, grateful it was dark enough that he hopefully wouldn't notice.

“Thanks for seeing me as more than just a cocky quidditch player.” You say back quietly. It was a strange new feeling. Something new, something a little confusing. You liked walking with him. It was nice to not be alone for once.

Once you get to the castle you stop and look at each other for a moment.

“You’ll be great Ron.” You say quietly.

”Ah what , no more Weasley. What happened on that walk.” He laughs looking behind you mockingly. You roll your eyes.

“Alright alright. Practice tomorrow? Same time?.” You say poking his chest taking a step back. He reaches out to grab your hand but you pull away too quickly. You smile at him turning on your heel. His eyes are not able to take themselves off of you. After 10 or so steps, you turn to see Ron in the same spot, still watching you with a sly smile.