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Quotable Conversationalist
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 Posted: Sun Sep 23, 2007 11:25 am
Chapter One: A chance meeting
“Oh, Shoot!” She cried, her voice full of discontempt. She squatted down to pick up her fallen books.
At the same time, just down the corridor, he was strolling towards her, his nose buried in a book.
His leg met with her side, and he flew over, landing flat-faced on the floor.
“Oh my gosh!” she cried, jumping up and running to him. She knelt down beside him and put a hand on his back. “Are you alright?” She asked, trying to look at his face.
He kept his face on the cold floor of the corridor. It smelt strongly of floor wax and the uniform shoes of the students. He opened his mouth to speak and got a mouthful of dust. He coughed it out and said, his voice entirely muffled so she could barely make it out:
“Yup.”
“Are you sure?” She verified, reaching over and grabbing the shoulder furthest away from her, trying to pull him into a sitting position. “You don’t seem okay. Are you positive?”
He hesitated for a while, then mumbled into the floor,
“Nope.”
She made a soft sound of pity, still trying o pull him up. Aw, come one. Let me help you.” At last she succeed and he was sitting upright in her arms. She looked at his leg and gasped in surprise. “Your ankle! It’s all swollen and red! You must have sprained it, or…”
But the rest of her scentence was droned out as he looked up at her. His heart began to beat so quickly it felt like it was swimming up his throat. His stomach tickled with butterflies. He could feel his mouth hanging open, but couldn’t bring himself to close it. Time halted. He could see her lips moving in slow motion, her long auburn hair falling across her worried face, set with two, deep, thoughtful emerald eyes.
Suddenly, he was rising into the air as she lifted him with her arms around his waist. She put an arm around him under his shoulder blades and held him up by the armpit. The other arm clutched onto his textbook.
He studdered.
“You-you’re…you’re…”
“Lieca,” she finished for him. “Lieca Patterson.”
He swallowed hard. He was going to say beautiful, or mesmerizing, or angelic, or something. But he was satisfied with her beautiful name. He began to choke out his own:
“R…um…Weasley…”
“Your name is Weasley?” She asked, raising an eyebrow at him. He shook his head dumbly.
“Ronald!” He shouted, his voice much, much louder than her had intended.
She chuckled light-heartedly and began to drag him along. “Well then, Ronald,” She said cheerily, “Let’s get you to the hospital wing to get that ankle checked out, hm?”
“Y-yeah…”
He stared at her as they walked (Well, she walked and dragged him along) down the corridor and through the door to the hospital wing.
“Ronald Weasley!” Said Madame Pomfrey as they entered. “What did you do to yourself this time?”
Ron began to studder, but Lieca intervened.
“He twisted his ankle, ma’am. Well, it was my fault, but… I think he may have sprained it!”
Madame Pomfrey shook her head, slapping him hard on the back above Lieca’s arm. “Nice going Weasley,” She said. She suddenly looked at Lieca. “Well? What are you waiting for? Go! Lay him down on the bed! I’ll get some bandages.”
So Lieca hurriedly began to drag Ron towards one of the farthest beds.
“This one’s near a window,” she explained.
He smiled warmly. How thoughtful of her!
She laid him down onto the bed carefully, her face set in concentration as though if she were too careless she would brake him.
Then, Ron started. “Oh, Lieca!” He said. She turned her gaze towards his and he struggled not to fly into her arms and kiss her passionately then and there. “You forgot your textbooks in the hallway!”
She shook her head. “No, silly,” She said with a giggle, “I left them there so I can carry you!” At his expression, she reassured him, “I’ll go back for them later, don’t worry about it!” She shot him a blushing smile, and he fell back into his pillow, warm all over.
“But…” He mildly protested, sinking further into his bed and smiling dreamily at her.
“Okay, Weasley!” Came Madame Pomfrey’s harsh voice all of the sudden as she appeared at the foot of his bed. He started, sitting up quickly; he had completely forgotten he was even in the hospital… he was so lost in his dreamland. “Drink this and go to sleep!” Madame Pomfrey continued as she shoved a spoonful of something green and bubbly in front of his face. It smelt awful, but he closed his lips around the spoon nevertheless, and allowed the icky goo to slide down his throat. He shuddered.
“Yuck!” He said, sticking out his tongue in disgust. He heard Lieca giggling and he beamed at her.
“Oh, and here.” Madame Pomfrey waved her wand at her open office door, and roll of bandages wrapped themselves around Ron’s ankle tightly. Then, a panel in the ceiling opened up and a sling came down. The suspended sling slipped itself under Ron’s leg and lifted it up.
“Woo!” said Lieca in awe. “That was cool!”
Ron laughed. It certainly was! He meant to say this out loud, but his eyelids were becoming heavy and he was getting very sleepy.
“I-I dunno how I can ever thank… thank…” But his scentence turned into a yawn.
Lieca smiled, walking over to the end of the bed, where his foot was still suspended by the sling. She put a hand on his bandaged foot and moved her hand across it. “It’s okay,” She said. “You can go to sleep, I’ll still be here!”
He felt her touch through the bandage. It was like her very touch was healing him, like she had some sort of magical touch. Her touch on his foot sent shivers of pleasure through his body. He smiled and sunk back into his pillow, drifting off into a deep sleep.
* * *
When again he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was Lieca, curled up, fast asleep on the chair next to his bed. She breathed deep. Her hair fell across her face. He wondered if she was having a good dream, because she was smiling in her sleep. Her entire body was bathed in the blinding white light that poured into the open window, and she was an angel.
Ron reached his hand up and softly touched hers. Her skin was so soft and warm, and at the touch of her skin, he felt that same gorgeous pleasure as before. He wanted to pull her hand so she would waken, crawl under the covers with him, and just lie in his arms forever, with no one but each other and the morning light pulsing thorugh the open window, the cool breeze on their faces and the sound of birds chirping in their ears.
And then…
“Oh man, I’m sorry, dude.”
Ron looked around to find a large seventh-year walk into the room, his eyes on Lieca. He had wavy blonde hair, crystal blue eyes, and more muscles in one arm than Ron had in his entire body. He was carrying the books Lieca had earlier dropped in the hallway.
“So,” He said with a hearty laugh, as he reached Ron. “So I see she’s found another victim, huh?”
“V-Victim…?” Ron repeated, jerking his arm away from Lieca and pulling his sheets up to his chin, covering from the tall man.
“What’s your name, guy?” The man asked.
“Ronald…erm…Ron. Ron Weasley…uh…Gryffindor Keeper, actually!” He added, trying to sound as buff as he could so this enormous guy wouldn’t suddenly see it fit to use Ron as a weight or something.
“Quidditch Player, huh?” He said, grinning, “Same here!” I’m the Ravenclaw beater!”
“You’re-You-re…Blake StClaire?” He was sweating now. Blake St. Claire was known for his amazing Quidditch skills. He was extremely popular because of it. And, Ron thought with another frightful gulp, he could hit a beater harder than any other beater who ever come to Hogwarts.
Blake nodded. “Yup! That’s me!” He grinned broadly, shoving a thumb into his chest. His eyes fell on the sleeping Lieca.
“Sorry about her, by the way,” He said, gesturing to Lieca. “She’s too nice for her own good. You’ve gotta see how many times she goes through this with people. Look at her. She’s worried about some kid she just met!” He shook his head. “She’s crazy, I’m tellin’ yah…!” Then his face broke into a smile. “I guess… well, I guess that’s why I’m in love with her.”
Ron’s blood ran cold. He froze, barely daring to breathe as he stared at Blake.
“I… I’m sorry…?”
Blake caught himself. He looked at Ron, laughed, and said while chuckling, “Well…heheh… we haven’t exactly dropped the ‘L’ bomb yet… but well… I’ve been meaning to say it soon… We’ve been dating for almost a year now!”
Ron felt his heart plummet into his toes. His jaw dropped, and he felt like as his mouth hung open, all his insides were running out, followed by his heart, and then his spirit itself. He simply stared at Blake, his head spinning. He felt sick.
Blake reached over and grabbed Lieca’s shoulder tightly. “Wake up, hun,” he said gently, rousing her.
Before Lieca even opened her eyes, she said in a quiet, sleepy voice,
“You okay, Ronald?”
Then she opened her eyes and smiled at him sweetly, and he felt even more sick as his entire being still longed for her to climb into bed with him.
“Lieca, you silly thing,” Blake chided with a playful smile.
Lieca turned around and beamed. “Oh, Blake!” She cried, throwing herself from the chair and into his arms. “Hellooo!”
She kissd him, smiling at his kiss returned to her. She wrapped arms around his neck , kissing him again.
When finally they broke apart, Blake said, “What are you doing? Don’t you have homework and Quidditch and whatever else, Liec?”
She laughed, pressing her face close to his and replying with, “Ronald was all hurt and sad, and I had to help him!” She looked around at Ron, who felt his stomach tie in a knot. He had hoped her had disappeared by now.
“Poor guy, look at you!” she said with pity on her face.
“Okay well say goodbye and lets go. I’ll wait for you outside, mkay, Pumpkin?”
Lieca nodded. “Ahuh! Go then!”
And with that, Blake left Lieca and Ron alone.
Ron swallowed. He wanted to die. Very quickly. Right now, please.
Lieca looked around at the door, “Good,” she said, “He’s gone!” After which she leant over Ron and climbed ont his bed on her knees.
Ron’s heart began to beat rapidly. Was she really crawling into his bed? For real?
With a hand planted ont either side of his head, she lowered her face towards his. As her face drew near his, he felt his heart rate continue to speed up. He could feel her breath on his face as his lungs worked over-time to keep his heart pumping, air escaping his mouth in shuddering puffs. She hovered over his lips for a moment, and his brain began to positively burst with thoughts of closing the gap between them and pressing his lips against hers. He could see himself running a hand through her long soft hair that fell around his face in velvet curtains as they kissed passionately.
Her soft breath traveled up his cheeks and she pressed her lips gently to his forhead. His entire body tingled. He could feel her lips on his skin. She pulled her mouth away slowlt, and in the moment between the end of the kiss and the time she said “See you, Ronald!”, he actually dared himself forcefully to grab her by the shoulders and pull her back down for a ling, soft kiss that would make her forget all about Blake St. Claire and stay with Ron forever.
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Posted: Sun Sep 23, 2007 11:29 am
Chapter Two: The Truth
“And she was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.”
“She’s dating Blake St. Clare.”
“She had these eyes…so warm and kind…”
“She’s dating Blake St. Clare!”
“And I think we really connected! You know, on a deeper level!”
“Ron!” Ginny cried, snapping her fingers in front of her brother’s face, getting his attention at last. She grabbed the sides of his head with her hands and cranked his head toward the Ravenclaw table. “Blake St. Clare!”
The laughter if Blake St. Clare and his buddies filled the Great Hall as the rest of the students filed in for dinner. The two Gryffindors could hear them quite clearly from their table.
“She’s dating THAT guy. She’s out of your league. That’s it. Over. Done with!” Ginny snapped angrily.
Ron inclined his head as his sister spun around to talk to her friends. Feeling terrible, he looked up at the Hufflepuff table, and there was the auburn hair and startling green eyes smiling around at her peers.
Ron’s heart leapt. He stared at her, happiness beginning to fill him slowly, soon replaced by an extreme longing for her to be in his arms.
Lieca looked up from her table and, catching his eyes, smiled excitedly and waved happily.
Ron looked behind him, wondering who she was waving to. When he looked back, she was still waving and mouthing, “Ronald!” She was calling to him!
He flushed deep crimson, and, smiling back at her, waved shyly.
Before anything more could happen, Dumbledore gave the signal for the dinner to begin, and both Ron and Lieca turned to the food in front of them.
“Ron,” came Harry’s voice, making Ron’s head shoot up in his direction quickly. “You’ve been in a daze all afternoon…what’s up?”
Ron watched Harry pick at his chicken, waiting for Ron’s answer. He hadn’t told Harry about his brief encounter with heaven, only that he had sprained his ankle and that’s why he was absent for Transfiguration. Presently, he shrugged and replied, picking up a bowl of mashed potatoes,
“Just the meds from Madame Pomfrey, I guess.”
“Well, straiten up, mate!” Harry told him sternly. “We’ve got Quidditch matches coming, and I’ve heard Hufflepuff got this amazing chaser…”
But Ron stopped listening to his friend as his eyes rested on Lieca again, as he dreamily watched her laugh, smiling dopily.
* * *
Wednesday came and went quickly, s did Thursday, and soon Ron was waking and staring at the canopy of his bunk. He rolled out of bed groggily, pulled on his robes, and stumbled with Harry down to the Great Hall for breakfast on Friday.
He plopped himself onto the seat, and began to shovel sausages into his mouth, only grunting in reply to Harry’s words, and….well… acting like a complete Neanderthal. As he swallowed a large amount of pumpkin juice and was about to let out a huge burp, there was a soft tap on his shoulder. He turned around grumpily, and was about to yell at the individual for interrupting his feeding frenzy, and finish off with a caveman belch, but instead he swallowed his pumpkin juice and began to turn red, staring, and silent.
“Um, hello, Ronald,” Lieca mumbled, blushing. She looked nervous as she twirled her silky hair around her long fingers. “Sorry to interrupt you.”
Ron shook his head a little too quickly. “N-no! Not at all!” He tried to keep his mouth closed as much as possible; for fear that maybe the belch might escape after all.
“Oh, good!” She said, giggling and smiling happily. “Well then, I was just wondering…um, if I could apologize for your ankle and buy you a butterbeer at The Three Broomsticks tomorrow?”
Ron couldn’t control the wide grin that spread across his face. “R-really?” He choked out, feeling his heart fly.
She nodded cheerfully. “Sure! If you’d like.”
“Yeah!” His voice cracked as it reached a high note and he cleared his throat and continued with, “ah… I mean…. Sure, why not?”
“Oh, terrific! I’ll see you tomorrow then, hm?” She concluded, clapping her hands together. “So long, Ronald!”
Ron watched her depart, still grinning broadly.
“AHA!” Came Harry’s voice from no where, making Ron jump several inches in his seat. “So THAT’S it!”
Ron spun around wildly to look at him. “What? Huh?”
Harry smirked, folding his arms and leaning back in his chair. “You Like her, don’t you?” He asked smugly.
Ron shook his head frantically, waving his arms back and forth. “That’s not true! What on Earth are you blabbering on about, Harry? I have no clue what you’re talking about.” And with that, he continued to scoop up large amounts of mashed potatoes into his open mouth.
Harry “psshawed” him, still smirking.
But despite his previous argument about not liking Lieca, she was all he could think of for the entire day. He achieved little in any of his classes, and there was to be found, on the corner of his history of magic paper, tiny hearts doodled all over.
By the evening, he could barely contain himself. He bid goodnight to Harry, Dean, Seamus and Neville, and crawled into his bed, but not before pulling the hangings around him. He grinned at the canopy above him. It was decided. Tomorrow, Ron would tell her how he felt about her. SHE’d asked HIM out, which meant she definitely liked him. And when he told her, she would run away with him and leave Blake St. Clare with naught but his muscles and his coolness to keep him company.
* * *
Ron stopped in the hallway and looked at his reflection in the mirror. His hair was combed, his teeth brushed, his face rigorously scrubbed. He straightened the collar of his hideous maroon jumper. He truly wished he had something more attractive to wear, but he really didn’t. He grinned briefly at his reflection, then spun on his heel and continued down the corridor, finally reaching the front doors, and exiting the castle into the courtyard, where hundreds of other students waited.
“Hurry, Mr.Weasley, we wait for no Wizard!” called Prof McG.
Ron scurried past her and entered the gaggle of students queued at the front. At last, the horseless carriages arrived, and they began to file into them. Ron stood on his tip-toes, scouring the area for Lieca. Then, from behind him, a soft voice called out, like a gentle ripple on a pond,
“Ronald! Oh, Ronald!”
He spun around to find Lieca waving her hand at him, being pushed and shoved by her peers. She apologized to them and excused herself as they pushed her rigorously aside to get into the carriages.
Ron fought his way through the crowd towards her. A rather large Slytherin girl pushed him, and he went flying into Lieca. To stabilize himself and Lieca, he grabbed her shoulders, pulling her close to him. As their bodies pressed against each other, Ron caught the flowery smell of her orange hair. Holding her with both arms, he raised one hand to the back of her head and held it to his chest. He could feel her soft, silky hair beneath his fingertips. He could feel her small hands curling into fists as they pressed against his chest. Holding her like this felt so good. Shivers ran up and down his spine, and her smell was like an intoxicating perfume, putting him under into a state of utter contentment. Her presence alone was like a drug that provided him with an incomparable high. And then she spoke, her crystal-like voice echoing into his ears pleasantly…
“Ronald!”
He was startled at her surprise and instantly let go of her, stepping a few feet away. Oh man, he thought, scratching his neck as the last of the crowd dispersed around them. How long had he been holding her? Oh man. Her it comes. He was dead.
“Oh, look! It looks like Blake is waiting for us in that one!”
Ron’s mind didn’t fully comprehend at first. He still felt lost in some strange world where he was king and Lieca was his fair queen. He turned his body slowly to see what she was pointing at, and his mind went blank.
Blake St. Clare was waving to them from inside a horseless carriage, a big grin plastered on his stupid, handsome, Ravenclaw face.
Ron was about to accompany his love on a date with the man she loved. … Who wasn’t Ron. At all.
When Ron and Lieca reached the carriage, Blake was waiting with open arms. He grabbed Lieca around the waist and held her for a moment, then lifted her into the carriage to sit beside him. He reached out a hand toward the tall, thin, weak frame of the pitiful Ron.
“Need a hand up, Ron?” he asked.
Ron shook his head fervently and pulled himself into the carriage, sitting at the far end, on the other side of Lieca.
“Oh, gosh,” gasped Lieca, putting a dainty finger to her lush lips. “I’m sorry! Do you prefer me to call you Ron?”
Ron stuttered, turning pink. Up until now, he hadn’t really noticed that she called him Ronald, where others called him Ron. Usually, he rather disliked being referred to as Ronald, but that was, of course, before he met Lieca.
“What ever you’d like,” He told her shyly, and turned to look out the window.
From outside somewhere, someone blew a high note on a whistle, and the carriages jolted into action.
“It’s so early!” Lieca said with a yawn.
Ron turned to smile at her and chuckled softly when he saw her tipping forward in her seat, eyelids drooping. She yawned again, and the contagious action spread to Ron, making him burst into a large yawn as well. The wide yawn triggered some sort of sleep switch in his brain, and he fell sideways into the wall of the carriage and closed his eyes to rest them. It really was quite early…
“Ron! Lieca! Wake up, guys! Gosh…”
Ron opened his eyes slowly to find Lieca was asleep on his shoulder. He blushed as Blake looked over at them, but he had no jealously on his face, he was frustrated, however, that they wouldn’t wake up as quickly as he had hoped.
“We’re here, c’mon!” He said.
Rubbing her eyes and cooing gently, Lieca awoke, pulling herself up from the seat to look out at the long and windy main drag of Hogsmead Village.
Ron followed her and Blake out of the carriage, and the three of them began to make their way towards the Three Broomsticks pub and inn. On the way, however, Blake was distracted by something in the window of a shop and stopped to gaze at it. Rona and Lieca slowed to a halt beside him. Blake pressed his finger against the window.
“No way!” He said enthusiastically, “the Harpies are in there, signing autographs!” He looked back at Ron and Lieca, grinning from ear to ear. “You wanna?”
Ron nodded heartily. “Yeah! You bet!” He beamed as Blake tore open the door of the shop and stood in line with the others. The Harpies were an amazing Quidditch Team. It was lucky for them to be here now. Ron smiled at Lieca, who returned it briefly, and stood out of the line-up, her arms crossed as she merely gazed out the window. Ron cocked his head to the side, confused, but shook off the confusion quickly as the Harpies keeper signed a copy of Quidditch Through The Ages in his name. He held the book close to him, elated, as he followed Blake outside.
“Awesome!” Blake whooped, gazing at the book fondly. “Lucky, eh, Ron?”
Ron nodded happily and continued with them down the street.
“What’s say we stop off at Honeydukes?” Blake continued, to Ron’s agreement and Lieca’s brief nod. “Ha ha… Harpies!” He went on, grinning. “Best team EVER!”
Ron had to disagree, but before he could speak his mind, Lieca had spoken up.
“I beg to differ.”
Blake’s smile vanished and he groaned as he ran a hand through his curls. He rolled his eyes towards Ron and muttered, “Oh, don’t start.”
“Their beating is slipshod, their seeker’s a cheater, and their keeper might as well be blind.” Lieca explained, sounding miffed. “I’ve said it before, Blake, and I’ll say it again: The Chuds are the ONLY team.”
Ron’s jaw dropped. Not only was he surprised and impressed by Lieca’s passion for her team, but her team just happened to be Ron’s favourite team, too, the team he had been about to protest with, before she had brought them up.
“Chud… Chudley Cannons?” He said in a quiet voice.
Lieca rounded on Ron. “You got a problem with the Chuds?”
He shook his head roughly. “No! No, not at all!” He assured her, waving his hands. “I love the Chudley Cannons!”
“Oh, great,” Blake muttered, slapping a hand to his forehead. Lieca, however, beamed at Ron as they stepped into the open door to Honeydukes sweetshop.
After purchasing bags full of sweets, Ron, Blake, and Lieca made their way to Zonko’s, still chewing on Chocolate Frogs and debating Quidditch teams. Inside, Blake shocked Lieca into anger with a rubber spider, and surprised Ron with a fake flobberworm he’d wanted. It sure was kind of him to buy it, Ron thought. He couldn’t help noticing how little Blake and Lieca had in common and how much Ron and she had in common. He paused several times to wonder how on Earth they’d wound up together.
Meanwhile, Ron was realizing he liked Blake St. Clare.
“I just have to use the ladies room, find a seat, okay?” Lieca told the boys as they entered the Three Broomsticks.
Blake nodded and ordered three butterbeers from the waiter, before leading Ron to a table across the room.
“So, Blake,” Ron piped up, eager for conversation. “I guess you and Lieca spend a lot of time together, huh?”
Blake sniffed. “Mmm, yeah, I suppose.”
Ron frowned a little. “You suppose? Lieca isn’t good company?”
The other man snorted and made a rude thrusting motion. “No, she ain’t good COMPANY. I get my COMPANY elsewhere!...from the rest of the chasers on the Hufflepuff team, for instance!” And he slapped his knee jovially, guffawing as though this were the most spectacular joke.
Ron, however, was beginning to feel slightly sick to his stomach.
“You mean like… cheating on her…? But… you told me you love her!”
Blake shrugged. “That’s what love is, ain’t it? You get dinner see… but sometimes you want a little desert on the side!” And he continued to chortle like the disgusting pig he was.
Ron was shocked and horrified. “No, man…” he shook his head, but thought it better not to continue. Love… that wasn’t love! Love is…inexplicable feelings, uncontrollable desires, for another person. When she’s the only girl on your mind. You want to know everything about her, everything she loves and hopes for. You want to be with her to witness her every move, hear her every word, and feel her every touch, every breath. When it’s enough to just lie in bed and hold each other… love is…
Ron stopped his thoughts short, just as he realized that everything he had just explained were his exact feelings for Lieca.
“But… this is just between us, right?” Blake confirmed, punching him softly in the arm. “We’re buddies, right?”
“Y-yeah…right…”
At that moment, Lieca came from the bathroom, looking just as stunning as ever, and sat down beside Blake. The waitress meanwhile, brought their Butterbeers, and Ron saw, with extreme disgust, Blake was watching her and licking his lips.
“What were you guys talking about?” Lieca asked.
Ron hesitated, looking from Lieca to Blake. Blake squinted his eyes a little in an ‘ImgoingtohurtyouifyoutellWeasley’ look.
“I…um…” Ron sighed heavily, looking down at his drink. “…Nothing,” He said at last.
And they went on sipping their Butterbeers, and Ron felt his heart burst.
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Quotable Conversationalist
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Quotable Conversationalist
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Posted: Sun Sep 23, 2007 11:39 am
Chapter Three: Happy Christmas, Malfoy
Ron spent the next week contemplating all that had happened in the Three Broomsticks. It was hard to keep this secret from Lieca, especially since she seemed to be everywhere he was, always passing him in the corridors and telling him hello. To make matters worse, Harry was becoming increasingly obsessed with the upcoming quidditch game against Hufflepuff. Ron found this annoying because he was finding it nearly impossible to stay in the game with all this in mind.
"Tomorrow!!" Harry shouted at Ron at lunch the day before the match. He had been yelling this all morning, and frankly, Ron was getting sick of it.
"Just... seriously mate, just lay off, I think we all get it."He said.
"lay off!" Harry repeated wildly. "lay off?!?! I can't just lay off, Ron. I'm the Quidditch Captain! If we fail, I'll always be remembered as the first Captain who ever led Gryffindor into defeat! Do you want that to happen? Do you? DO YOU?!"
Ron stared at him.
"Besides, and I know I don't need to remind you, because I've told you a hundred times," Harry went on, "but Hufflepuff's got this new chaser who's rumoured to be an amazing flyer, and you're not... well..."
Ron sighed down at his cheese. "Not the best keeper, I know. I'm trying..."
Harry patted his friend sympathetically on the shoulder. "Aww... well... just don't screw up, mkay buddy?" And with that, he stood from the table and headed off to the Gryffindor tower.
"Gee, thanks, buddy," Ron muttered, feeling sick to his stomach.
***
Ron woke up on the day of the quidditch match, feeling the cold wind outside more in his stomach than on his facfe. He ate very little breakfast, and realised as he walked through the wet grass towards the stadium with Ginny and Harry, that Lieca hadn't said goodmorning to him, like she usually did. This was truly an unlucky day, he thought, and felt his heart sink low into his chest.
The Gryffindors suited up, Harry led his team out onto the pitch, white-faced and qite silent. Ron followed him into the air and zoomed over towards the goalposts as the Hufflepuffs rose into the air. His ears felt fuzzy and he couldn't hear musch, or maybe he was just too depressed to listen as the commentator shouted out the names of the players, something about Harry being the captain, and the golden snitch, and then Madame Hooch blew her whistle and the quaffle, bludgers and the Golden snitch were released.
Ron looked up darkly through his red hair, now dark with rain, at the oncoming chasers. Hufflepuff already had the Quaffle. They were doomed. Just as Ron was doomed. Nothing would ever be right again.
The hufflepuff girl who had the quaffle had magnificent, shiney auburn hair flapping behined her in a long ponytail, and her green eyes squinted at him through the rain. She looked determined, and she threw the quaffle at him hard.
Ron, still feeling disgusted with himself, did nothing to stop it, but just at the last moment, his hand slipped on the wet handle of his broomstick, and his face smashed into the handle. His other arm flew into the air and collided painfully with something hard--the quaffle.
"Nice save, Ron!" Called Harry from above.
"I--what?"
"Wow!" came the voice of the chaser who'd thrown the quaffle at him. She flew right close to him, slipped her goggles from her eyes, and grinned at him. "I heard I was going against you, Ron," she said happily, "But I never imagined you were so amazing!"
Ron blinked.
"And that was a throw by Lieca Patterson, rumoured to be one of the best flyers Hufflepuff has ever seen, and a save by Ron weasley, who's not really got a very good reputation..."
"L-lieca!" He gasped. "Hey... you're..."
"No time for talk, Ronald!" she called cheerily as she rose higher into the air and continued over to the other chasers. "You can do this! Let's go!"
For a moment, Ron was frozen. Then he shook it off, feeling renewed strength burst through him like lightening. "Okay," he said under his breath, "if she thinks I can do it, I can. Cause... well she's an angel, and angels make miracles!"
The game continued, and the Hufflepuffs were merciless. But Ron, somehow flawless, blocked every goal but four, and Guinny had scored seven by now.
All at once, there was a loud whistle, and the Gryffindors errupted into cheers: Harry had caught the snitch!
Ron flew to the ground and ran into the arms of his sister and Harry, and they embraced, shouting their celebration. Harry looked just as pale as he had before the match, but now he was smiling in an odd sort of way that showed he couldn't quite believe what had just happened. Ron, however, felt elated, more than he had been all week. He felt on top of the world, and it was all thanks to her.
"Ron! Hey--Ron!"
He spun around to see Lieca running towards him. He held out his arms for her, feeling happiness fill him, Lieca, however. was looking utterly distraught. His smile faded as he saw that her face was drenched in tears, her eyes red and puffy from crying.
"Lieca!" He gasped as she ran into his arms, weeping.
"Ron..." she sobbed into him, clutching handfuls of his jumper. "I...oh, Ron..."
"Come on..." He said, taking her by the hand and pulling her away from the crowd of Gryffindors and towards the changing rooms. He pulled her inside and hust the door behined them.
"Look," He said as they sat on the bench, "You played really well, there's no need to be sad..."
But Lieca shook her head. "No..." She muttered. "No... I... I'm not sad about that...it's...Blake..."
Dread filled Ron's stomach. His head felt as heavy as though it were made of lead.
"Oh no..." He said quietly, holding her tighter. "What happened? Did he..." He remembered what Blake had said in the Three Bromsticks. He was ready for it.
"Blake's..." But she didn't need to say anymore. She heaved into racious sobs and Ron held her tighter than ever before. How could Blake do this? How could someone do something this horrible to someone this beautiful... that jerk...
Then he realized:It's now or never.
"Lieca," he began, "I love--"
"Ron!" The door flew open and Ginny burst in, followed closely by the rest of the Gryffindor team, chanting, "WEASLEY IS OUR KING!"
Without warning, they liffeted Ron by his trainers and suddenly he was in the air, riding on the shoulders of the entire team and leaving Lieca behined. As the mob moved toward the Gryffindor tower for celebration, Ron looked back at the small frame of the weeping girl sitting alone in the Gryffindor changing room.
***
As the weekend progressed, Ron did not see much of Lieca, in fact he didn't see her at all. Not one sign of her was shown for the next few weeks; Ron frequently checked the hufflepuff table at every meal and didn't see her. All of her Hufflepuff friends were there the same, laughing and giggling as though she were there, same as usual; even Blake was sitting at the Ravenclaw table, looking as though he'd done absolutely nothing wrong.
Two weeks past, and as the snow finally fell on Hogwarts, late this year, Christmas arrived and with it the threat that it would take Lieca away from him for longer than he could bear.
He pulled his trunk into the Great Hall to meet with Harry, who would be coming back to the Burrow with him for Christmas. he was found standing by himself, looking up at the enormous tree that Hagrid had cut down and lugged all the way from the Forbidden Forest, now adorned in all sorts of small baubles and ornaments for the holiday season. Ron stood next to Harry and looked up at the tree, too.
"Ready then?" Harry asked quietly.
Ron nodded silently and turned away from the christmas tree, before moving swiftly down the corridors to the great double doors that led out into the grounds, Harry hurrying along in his wake. Outside, the air was crisp and clear; Ron could breath deply the smells of the snow. Laughter bubbled from all over the grounds: Students had piled on layer after layer of wintery clothing to go out into the snow and play. As Ron and Harry walked across the bridge towards the gate, they past a group of girls giggling in a circle. This was nothing new to Ron; he'd never really understood these gaggles girls tended to form and didn't really have much interest of the subject anyways. His boots crunched in the cold white snow beneath him as they rounded the various student-made snowmen scattered along the pathway and stopped in front of the large gate leading to Hogsmead station, where the Scarlet Hogwarts Express would take them back to London.
Ron glanced up to the large statues of winged boars on either side out of habit, and realised something was sitting on top of one of them--a person! No, it was only the Fat Friar, who was the Hufflepuff ghost, much like Nearly Headless Nick was the Gryffindor ghost. He was sitting atop the winged boar, inspecting the snowy grounds below. When he caught Ron's eye, Ron quickly looked away, but the Friar swooped down quickly and stopped just in front of he and Harry.
"Are you Ronald?" He asked Harry with a suspicious eye. Harry shook his head hastily and jabbed a finger in Ron's direction.
Ron gave Harry an odd look for ratting him out and then stood before the Fat Friar, who had now turned his enormous blue eyes on him. The Ghost rose an eyebrow, scrutenizing Ron as though he were not quite what he had expected "You are Ron?" He confirmed skeptically.
Ron shook his head, feeling large flakes of snow begin to fall down from the sky and land on his long nose.
The Fat Friar looked at him for a moment, quite shocked, then shook it off and said in an imoportant-sounding voice, "Well then Ronald, this is for you" --and he held out a small package wrapped with deep crimson wrapping paper and a gold tie with tiny Gryffindor Lions on it. attatched to the package was an envelope that said "To Ron".
Ron pulled one of the strings of the tie, meaning to open the package, but the Friar let out a loud tuttering sound. "Ah-ah, young man!" He scathed. "Can you not see that this is a Christmas present? Don't open it yet, you scallywag!"
Ron, taken aback by the Friar's words, let go of the string, shoved the package in his robes and inclined his head to the Friar. "Thanks," He said shortly, before nodding to Harry and following his friend up the hill to the station where the scarlet engine lay steaming in the winter air.
***
"Ron! Don't just houver there!"
"Wha--?"
Boom.
The makeshift quaffle collided painfully with Ron's face, and a loud cracking sound filled the air. Hot blood filled the back of Ron's mouth.
"We'll have to take you to your mummy ickle Ronnykins," Said Fred with mock concern, flying over to him on his broomstick.
"See if she can't mop up your little spill," George continued off his twin, flying after him. Harry and Ginny came after them both.
"Can't evenplay a game of Quidditch without you drifting off into your own little world!" Ginny scolded her brother. "What's with you these days?"
"I'm sorry," Ron muttered as he landed softly on the snowy ground and slipped off his broom. One hand clutching his broomstick, the other cupping his bleeding nose, he stalked from the yard and elbowed the door open. Inside, his mother was standing at the sink, washing her hands, while potatoes, beats, and carrots were peeling themseves for christmas eve dinner that night.
"Ron, what have you done to yourself?" She exclaimed upon seeing his state.
"I haven't done anything," He mumbled beneath his cupped hand, putting his brromstick on the couch and glancing up at the clock above it. The clock indicated the location of each weasley. At the moment, everyone but Percy, Bill, Charley and Aurther were home. The rest were at work, but they would most likely be home presently, Ron thought.
Molly grabbed Ron roughly by the chin and lifted his face so she could see it properly. She squinted at it for a moment, then tapped her wand hard on it, sending a lightening of pain through his nose and making him shout, "Ouch!" But it healed, nevertheless.
"Suck it up," Molly said, tapping him on the cheek, but smiling in a motherly way, and she turned to continue her cooking. "So," she went on, before Ron could escape. "Why don't you tell me about your girl troubles?"
"I'd rather not," Ron said stiffly, clasping his fingers around his broomstick handle again and looking away from his mother.
"A girl came to the door this morning," Molly continued as though she hadn't heard Ron. "she was cute, was she your girlfriend?" She tittered with laughter. Ron was silent. "She was looking for you. Her name was Lieca."
He looked up quickly. He squinted a little, trying to decide weather or not his mother was playing with him, then he said seriously, "Really?"
Molly gave another chirp of laughter.
"I mean..." Ron leant against the couch and tried to repeat in his most casual voice, "Really?"
"Ron! Hurry up, mate!" Harry's voice called from outside.
"Oh, go on," Molly said in a quiet laugh, shooing him out the door.
"But mum, I..."
"Ron, seriously mate, get in the game!" Harry said angrily.
"Don't keep Harry waiting," Said Fred.
"Yeah, he's the Boy Who Lived, you know," said George.
"But..."
"Ron, catch!" Shouted Ginny, hucking the quaffle at her brother's face and, once again, hitting him squarely in the face.
The evening went by quickly, ending with an extraordinarily early bedtime. Ron and Harry sat up all night talking excitedly about what the next day would bring them, and Ron reckoned they'd never get to sleep. But they did eventually, and awoke the next morning to a stocking full of presents at the foot of their beds. Ginny, Fred and George hopped into the room presently, all three of them carrying their own stockings and dumping them out onto Harry's bed and sorting through them.
"This one's from Father Christmas," Ginny said sarcastically, laughing and gesturing to one particular package. "Can't believe mum thinks I still believe in him..."
"Can't believe mum still thinks we do!" Fred said, as George held up his own package labled, from Father Christmas.
Ron laughed heartily, opening his final present, which was a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. He smiled at all his gifts, looked around at Harry's, then looked back at his own, still grinning from ear to ear.
"Hey, Ron," Said Harry as an afterthought, "What about that one the Fat Friar gave you?"
"Oh yeah!" Ron said excitedly, leaping from his bed and hobbling over to his wardrobe. He ripped open the doors and fished inside for the robes he'd been wearing that day... but they were gone! no!, he thought, Mum must've washed them!
He tore from the room and down the steps, skipping the three at the bottom and simply hopping down to the first landing, and spun around into the laundry room, where his dirty robes were lying in a pile on the floor, not yet washed. Thanking God, he plunged his hand into the mess of robes and reemerged with a small crimson package. He ripped it open greedily. All at once, the package burst open, and something much larger than what the package could have been holding was lying in his arms. It was a broomstick! It was a Silver Arrow, which wasn't the best on the market--in fact it was one of the oldest broomsticks Ron had ever seen. But what made this broomstick amazing, was the sparkling, gold writing on the handle that spelt out the name,
Dragomir Gorgovitch
Ron was utterly shocked, his heart beating fast. "No... no way!" He whispered. He looked at the floor, and seeing the fallen card, scooped it in his trembling hands. He ripped open the envelope and pulled out the white card, which bore small baby polar bears dressed as father christmas on the front, and the words, Merry Christmas, to a special friend. He opened the card and found the words inside:
Dear Ronald,
I've tricked you, haven't I? You didn't expect a broom inside, did you? If you haven't noticed, it was signed by Gorgovitch, Chaser for the most amazing Quidditch team ever (Need I say it? Oh alright-- Chudley Cannons!). I hope you enjoy it, I got it signed when I was a kid at one of their games. It's very special, because not only is it signed by Gorgovitch, it was ridden by him, too! cool huh?
Happy Christmas, Ronald Ron. Thanks for being my friend!
Love Lieca
P.S. Don't worry about what happened during our last match -- someone very special helped me get through it, and I'm over Blake -->
Ron felt a grin spread across his face and his cheeks blazed red with happiness. Lieca. Lieca, who had helped him that day in the corridors, purely out of the goodness of her heart. Lieca, who had seen the good even in a prat such as Blake St.Claire. Lieca, who had encouraged him to win the Quidditch match. Lieca, who had completely stolen his heart, given him the best gift he'd ever recieved and really, really liked him! Could it be true?
He re-read the words, someone very special helped me get through it, and I'm over Blake. Someone special. Him? Who else? Did she really like him instead of Blake?
Then Ron noticed the tiny arrow pointing to turn over the card. He turned it in his palms, read the message, and felt his heart fly from his mouth and out the window, his face sink into his skull, and his entire exsistance die inside of him:
...his name is Draco Malfoy and I think I may just love him! Happy Christmas! =)
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Posted: Sun Sep 23, 2007 11:51 am
Chapter Four: An icy warmth
January made it's appearance, and with it came a detestable chilly wind, the kind of wind that no human being should be out in. Ron and Harry, however, were standing in front of the barrier at King's Cross that led onto Platform Nine and three quarters. Harry ran through first, and Ron second, pulling his scarf more tightly around his throat than he cared to express, nearly choking him, but, grudgingly he thought, keeping him warm. On the other side of the magical barrier, the Hogwarts express was sitting in a cloud of its own steam, melting the snow around it and warming up the platform entirely. The Platform itself was teeming with people and the background noise of chattering was ceaslessly sounding in Ron's ears. It was time for more school.
By blame of the various other things that had been going on in Ron's life, he hadn't really been thinking or worrying about school, something he didn't really do anyways. But coming back on the train, watching as the snowy, cold landscape twisted past his window, he now felt a certain sort of sickness in his stomach, caused only by a lingering anxiousness about returning to the Castle. What would he do when he returned? How would things change between he and Lieca? She being the only thing he ever thought about constantly, it was difficult for him to comprehend the fact that all his imaginings of them together were now being thwarted by the one and only Malfoy, the boy who had henceforth made his and Harry's lives a living hell since the moment they first encountered the blonde menace. Only someone as pure and amazing as Lieca could have seen the good in such a demon.
And Ron knew what he would experience when he would walk through the front doors and into the Entrance Hall of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and experienced it accordingly when he did so.
Running to greet him, out of the arms of his enemy and into his own, was the small, gorgeous frame of Lieca. Her cheeks were pink with cold, and she still had little flecks of snow in her auburn hair. She looked up at him happily when they parted (Though Ron let her go with a certain amount of reluctance) and beamed at him.
"Did you have a happy Christmas?" She asked him in her usual cheerful voice.
Ron looked past her at the tall form of Malfoy, standing with his arms folded and looking the other way. Beside him, as usual, stood Crabbe and Goyle, staring thickly at Ron, Harry and Lieca.
"Yeah..." Ron replied distantly. "Yeah I guess so... thanks for the gift!"
Lieca smiled even more broadly. "Ah, you liked it did you?" She said. "Well I'm so glad. Well bye, Ron!" She concluded, waving and walking around to Malfoy. The two of them linked hands and walked into the Great Hall, Crabbe and Goyle hesitating, then following them.
Harry stared.
"Ron... I... she... Malfoy..."
Ron looked around dully at his friend and then nodded. "Yup."
Harry gaped from Ron to the door to the Great Hall where Lieca had dissapeared, and back again. Ron was already walking away towards the Gryffindor tower. He quickened his pace to keep him with him.
"Hey... you have to talk to her," Harry said seriously as they began to climb the staircase. "You have to like... warn her, mate. She could be... She could be in grave danger! Which, in hindsight, wouldn't be so bad for our quidditch team... I mean... no! This is Malfoy, right? Who knows what that evil little... thing could do to her?"
Ron's eyes were hidden in his knot of red hair. "Just... just leave it, Harry. It's not my place."
Harry stopped walking, looking absolutely stunned. Ron stopped too, and looked around at him impatiently.
"You're stupid!" Harry shouted.
"Wow, thanks," Ron replied, beginning to turn around and continue walking.
"You can't just let her go like that, Ron," Harry said, throwing a hand toward the Entrance Hall. "You've been practically obsessed with this girl for so long now, and hell, if I let you walk away from this now, what kind of friend would I be? Not a very good one, that's for sure. And what kind of friend would let someone date a complete arsehole like Malfoy? Hopefully not you! That doesn't sound like the Ron I've known for all these years! Now you will go down and fix this--NOW!"
Ron stood shocked as though a tidal wave had washed over him. He stared at Harry for a good long while, then said, "oh man mum, why're you dressed like Harry?"
Harry scoffed and pushed Ron by the shoulders up the stairs. "Okay, we'll make a battle plan. We have Herbology wuth the Hufflepuffs right?"
"Er.. yeah..."
"Right! So let's attack during that class, while we're prunning leaves or something, I can use that spell to make sure no one hears our planning, and then, we'll move in for the kill!"
"Harry!" Ron spurted, as the stopped in front of the Portrait of the Fat Lady concealing the Gryffindor common room. "This isn't World War Two!"
"I... right."
***
The snow was still knee deep as Ron and Harry trudged through the garden to the greenhouses. When they arrived, most of the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs were already there waiting. Ron made to sit at the end near the open door, but Harry shoved him forwards past the rows of potted plants and near the front where the squat form of professor Sprout stood bustling over her class notes. Harry pushed Ron into the seat at the front, so that they were on either side of Lieca.
“Hey,” Harry said casually.
“Good morning!” Lieca replied cheerfully. “Good morning, Ron,” She added with a grin in his direction.
“I … eh yeah … good morning …”
“All right, hush up, hush up!” Called Professor Sprout as Neville and the last few students entered the greenhouse and shut the door behind them. “Class, today, we are going to be working with Fatigue plants. These little guys are asleep right now, so, naturally, I should expect you to be very, very quiet when you pull them from their pots. I will not accept anything above a whisper, though,” She chuckled warningly, “You shouldn’t have any reason to talk at all now, should you? No.”
“Professor?” asked Neville, raising his hand into the air timidly. “Er … what’ll happen if we wake them up?”
“If the Fatigue Plants are woken, they will begin to sing. Now, this song can knock you out for a few hours, so we don’t want that to happen. The leaves of the Fatigue plant are often used in various sleeping draughts and potions, that some older witches and wizards take to help them get to sleep. But it must only be taken in small doses, otherwise the witch or wizard will fall asleep for too long. It has been known to keep a person out for weeks. Now then! Get to work please! Go!”
The greenhouse fell silent as the students cautiously pulled the plants from their pots and went to work pruning the leaves.
“muffliato,” Harry murmured, flicking his wand. This spell would make sure no one around them could overhear their conversation. Ron’s face flooded with red as soon as he heard Harry say the charm. He was going in for the kill.
“So, Lieca,” Harry said. It was obvious he was trying to sound as casual as he could. “You’re dating Malfoy are you?”
“Draco Malfoy, yes,” Lieca replied, a touch of annoyance in her voice. “Why?”
Harry stared pointedly at Ron and said nothing.
“WHAT?!” Ron yelped. Lieca rose an eyebrow at him and Harry pulled his collar anxiously behind her back. “Er … I mean …” Ron cleared his throat and began again, “ … Dra—Malfoy … is … ahh …” He trailed off uncertainly.
“I’m sorry?” Said Lieca, looking confused.
“Draco Malfoy is a jerk. A prat. A stain of life. A sick, demented idiot. A twisted liar. An ugly git. A monster at his best. A complete and utter retard.” Harry said shortly, pruning his leaves without a care as Lieca became steadily angrier and angrier.
“What?!” She cried. “Are you serious?” She rounded on Ron. “You think this too, don’t you? How could you?! I thought you were my friend! I thought you would be happy for me!”
“Yeah, well, he isn’t!” Harry snapped back.
“Well I should think,” Lieca cried, tears in her eyes, “That, considering it is MY life, I should be allowed to choose whomever I like!” She was still yelling at Ron, even though he hadn’t said a thing.
“Umm… guys… I think we should be quiet …” Ron mumbled, unheard by either of them.
“Well maybe Ron had your best interests at heart, did you ever think of that?!” Harry yelled, throwing down his leaves in disgust. “Maybe he thinks you deserve someone better… someone like Ron!”
“Guys… the… the plants…”
“And since when do you have control over my life, Ronald?!” She shouted, tears now streaming down her face.
“Oh yeah? Well--”
“SHUT UP!” Ron yelled, and both of them fell silent.
There was a quiet rustling behind them, and the three of them turned around slowly to see the Fatigue plants waking slowly, yawning. One began to sing, and it was like a domino effect: one sang, then another, then another, until the entire greenhouse erupted into song.
Lieca burst into tears and began to stalk from the room, but fell down before she could get to the door, fast asleep. Within moments, the entire class, including Professor sprout, had fallen on their faces, asleep.
***
It turned out to be a difficult few days for Ron as the weeks progressed, seeing as how every sight of Lieca was accompanied by a glare or an unhappy shoulder bump. He was caught in a war he didn’t even start with the woman he loved, and it hurt more than he could bear sometimes.
He knew he had to make things right. When he tried to confide in his best mate, Harry merely grunted and said, “We told her, didn’t we? Humph.”
Apparently, he was living Ron’s side of the war for him.
To make matters worse, Quidditch practices were still going, and taking everything out of Ron. The winter was relentless and cold. February brought even more snow with it and even icier winds. The students were warned not to spend too much time outside the walls of Hogwarts, and were equipped with extra scarves and gloves and heavy winter cloaks with fur around the hoods. Despite all of this, Ron was still freezing as Harry led them around the pitch on their broomsticks. The wind attacked any part of his body that was uncovered, stabbing at him like a hundred icy knives.
“Up, up!” Harry called, blowing his whistle. “Come on guys, get higher!”
“Harry!” Ginny called down angrily. “Have you been up here lately?! Any higher, and we’ll be coming down as icicles!”
“Wha—really?” said Harry. “Well, okay, come back inside, guys. You’ve flown brilliantly.”
Ron followed the others to the ground, and made to follow them into the warm changing rooms, but Harry pulled him by the hood and looked at him seriously.
“Listen Ron. Whatever’s on your mind, Lieca, whatever. Get it out of your mind, okay? That’s what ruins our chances of having the best Gryffindor keeper I know you can be.”
Ron turned his brown eyes to Harry’s green ones. “yeah…” he murmured.
“seriously,” Harry confirmed, jerking his friend by the collar.
Ron nodded.
Harry searched his eyes for a moment. Then let him go. “Okay.” He walked around back towards the changing rooms. Ron turned to follow him, when his eyes caught something watching them from a little ways away. A little speck of pink in the white nothingness.
“Who’s that?” He called.
The person started, then turned to run away, and fell to the floor. “Ouch!” Cried a female voice.
Ron ran towards the girl and stooped to help her up. She was heavily wrapped in clothing and he couldn’t make out what house she was from let alone who she was. As she grabbed his hand, she pulled herself up and two large round green eyes and a pink nose stared up at him, looking somewhat apologetic.
“I… hi…” she mumbled, casting her gaze downward and looking defeted.
“Lieca?” He said. “Is that you?”
She nodded beneath her hood and scarves.
Ron wrapped his arms around her quickly. He wasn’t sure why he actually did it, but he did, and she in turn flooded into him.
“I missed being your friend, Ronald,” She said, and he could hear in her voice that she was crying. “ I don’t know why, but it feels wrong when I’m not with you.”
Ron pulled her head away from him by her chin. “Lieca…” He said quietly. Their eyes bore into one another’s for a solid moment. “It’s cold out here,” He said finally, letting go of here and looking away. “You should be up at the castle. You’re parents will be sad if you are sick.” He said this, all the while knowing that neither of them were cold, and that if they’d only hold each other a little longer, maybe, just maybe… they wouldn’t ever be cold again…
“I… wonder if they would…” She said thoughtfully, bringing a mitten to her eye and wiping the tears away, though most of them had already been soaked up by several of her scarves.
“Do you… want to go somewhere?” Ron asked, without realizing what he was saying. He heard himself saying the words as if from a distant place. Had he been closer, he’d have stopped himself from saying such things, but instead he simply let it happen, and enjoyed this odd feeling of floating on air.
Lieca nodded again, her auburn hair falling into her eyes. She pushed them away and followed Ron as he led her up the wooden stairs into the bleachers. They sat together in a huddle in one corner of the bleachers in silence, watching as Harry and the other Gryffindors left the pitch and practically sprinted towards the castle, eager for warmth and maybe hot cocoa. As this thought occurred to him, Ron swooped his wand into the air and two mugs of hot cocoa hovered before them. Making a quiet sound of approval, Lieca took one of the mugs and sipped at it eagerly.
“ooh!” she gasped. “hot!”
“Yeah, careful,” said Ron, still in that distant voice quite unlike his own. They fell silent as Ron grasped his own mug and sipped it. After a moment, he said, “You’ve never really told me who you are.”
“Hm?” She said cozily. “Who I am?”
“Like…”Ron racked his brain for the right words. “Tell me… tell me… everything.”
Lieca looked at him with her large eyes and sniffed. Then she covered her nose with her scarf and said, “Well… I’m Lieca Patterson and I live in Surrey. I’ve been going to Hogwarts since I was eleven, just like you… hmm what else? I’m a chaser on the Hufflepuff team, though you already know that.”
“Best flyer Hufflepuff has ever seen,” Ron added with a smile.
“They say that,” said Lieca, “But it’s just not true! I mean… I don’t feel so great. Well, now that I’ve had the pleasure of getting whupped by the best Keeper Gryffindor has ever seen” –She nudged Ron playfully—“I guess I do fell a little great. But it probably rubbed off from you.”
He laughed. “No way!”
“Way!” She countered, nodding and laughing along with him.
“So what else?” Ron asked. “Like… what about your parents?”
Lieca looked at him again, her eyebrows risen in surprise. “Curious much?”
“I… I want to know everything about you,” he said truthfully. Again, this would be one of the things he would usually have retrained himself from saying, but he was simply flying too far away from himself now.
She looked quite shocked for a moment, then her eyes smiled at him(since he couldn’t see her mouth). “Well…” she looked up at the white sky. “I’ve never really told anyone this before… so don’t freak out… ok?”
He put a hand to his heart. “Promise I won’t.”
“Okay… Everyone in my family has always gotten into Slytherin but me. In a family of pure-blooded idiots… I guess it’s only natural,” She said, her voice drenched in bitterness.
Ron couldn’t deny he was shocked, but he tried not to gasp, and merely said, fighting to keep his voice under control, “Really?”
She nodded. “Yep. And my parents were a little more than… annoyed, shall we say, that I got into Hufflepuff. Disappointed, and annoyed. And to tell you the truth… so am I.”
“Are you taking the Mickey?” Ron gaped. “No way!”
“Maybe if I was in Slytherin, my parents wouldn’t be so disappointed in me…”
“No!” Ron said loudly, clenching his fists. “Don’t think that, and you know why? Please don’t take this offensively, but Slytherins are a bunch of scumbags. Really they are, and you are so fourtunate to be in Hufflepuff, no joke. I have always thought—and I’m dead serious about this, Lieca—that Hufflepuff is a house full of amazing people. Being sorted into Hufflepuff… you mayn’t be flashy or brilliant. You aren’t over-brave or courageous, or cunning, but you’re sort of a mix of all three. You’re down-to-earth, loyal and friendly, and that’s what it means to be a Hufflepuff. Really, I have always thought this. I think that’s why the badger is the animal for the House of Hufflepuff: cause Helga Hufflepuff was so down-to-earth like you, Lieca, and I think you would’ve made her proud. And you, personally, have nothing to be ashamed of. And if your parents are disappointed in you, they’re insane, because you… you’re beautiful, smart, funny, kind… and whatever you say, you’re a hell of a Quidditch player. Don’t let anything or anyone beat you down because if you ask me, you’re the most amazing human being I have ever met, and I love you. Really and truly, absolutely—“
But he was cut off, for Lieca had pulled him by the sides of his face into a kiss. He felt her scarves falling around them and his own scarves falling, their hoods flying from their heads, and he wrapped his arms around her into a forceful embrace and kissed her with every piece of passion inside of him. With every beat of his heart, he was melting into her. The longing he’d felt for her for so long… at last, the passion he’d felt for her was bursting forth from his body and into her through his mouth. He loved her. He loved her he loved her he loved her and he wanted to kiss her forever.
He pulled apart from her, her eyes glistening with tears.
“What about… Malfoy?” He panted, his face red with cold but his heart so warm he felt he could unfreeze the giant lake.
Snow began to fall from the sky in thin flakes, fluttering around them and falling on Lieca’s pink nose as she breathed hard and stared at him. And then, in reply, she threw herself into another forceful kiss with him.
“It was always you,” she murmured between kisses. “It was you who I really wanted. Not Blake, not Draco … all this time … since that day in the corridor when you fell on your face…”
“I love you,” He whispered. “I love you so much. I always have. I love you Lieca.”
They broke apart again and she was smiling at him, snow blowing her auburn hair all around her, her face pink with cold, tears streaming down her cheeks, and she was just smiling and smiling. He lifted a gloved hand to her face and touched it briefly, then ripped off his gloves with his teeth and cupped her face in his hands. She smiled so sweetly at his touch and leaned her face into his hands, closing her eyes briefly as a fresh tear spilled from each eye.
“I love you too, Ronald,” She whispered back, and opened her eyes again to look at him, her face lit with all the beauty and grace it could ever hold.
“Whatever comes,” Ron said breathlessly, searching her eyes, “Malfoy, your parents, whatever… let’s meet it together. Because I think that’s how it’s supposed to be. I think it’s right.” And this time he felt closer than he’d ever been. He wasn’t flying away from his mind and body somewhere in heaven alone blissfully anymore…
He was flying with her.
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Quotable Conversationalist
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