Rating:
PG
House:
Astronomy Tower
Ships:
Cho Chang/Ron Weasley
Characters:
Ron Weasley
Genres:
Romance
Era:
Harry and Classmates Post-Hogwarts
Spoilers:
Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets Prizoner of Azkaban Goblet of Fire Order of the Phoenix Half-Blood Prince Quidditch Through the Ages
Stats:
Published: 01/31/2006
Updated: 01/31/2006
Words: 3,234
Chapters: 1
Hits: 752

The Professionals

Cynthia Black

Story Summary:
It is Ron's first professional Quidditch game a few years after leaving Hogwarts, when he unexpectedly bumps into someone he knew at school. (Ron/Cho)

Chapter 01

Posted:
01/31/2006
Hits:
752


He could hear the buzz of the crowd in the stadium outside as he got changed. A thrill went through him as he donned the crisp sky-blue robes for the first time. He smoothed them down carefully and ran his fingers over the gold embroidered Snitch over his heart. They were fresh, clean, and exactly the right size for once. Not that he expected them to stay that way, of course - rough game, Quidditch. And they didn't clash with his hair either. Hermione would have approved. He could almost hear her saying, "Not orange again, Ronald, it really doesn't go - I hope you never end up playing for the Cannons." The corners of his mouth twitched at the thought, but it was followed almost immediately by the familiar empty feeling in his gut and the lump he got in his throat, whenever he thought about her. Yes, Hermione would have approved.

"Are you okay there, Ron?" boomed a deep voice from behind him.

"Yes thanks, Brevis," he replied, turning to face the team's captain.

Brevis Birch had been Captain of the Tutshill Tornadoes for about twelve years now, and it showed. His face was ruddy and weather-beaten from the constant battering of the wind in his face over the years. He was short and squat, a good head shorter than Ron, with the wiry, well-toned physique of someone who has exercised regularly over a long period of time. His small, brown eyes twinkled at Ron from his deep-set eyes, the crows' feet deepening in the corners as he smiled.

"It's your first game, so you're bound to be a bit nervous, lad," he said, gripping Ron's shoulder firmly. "Just try to relax into it and keep your eye on the Quaffle. You've done well in the tryouts and all the practices, so you just need to transfer that skill onto the pitch today. Not easy to try and fill old Merwyn's shoes, I know, but I'm sure you've got what it takes."

No pressure there then. Ron felt his ears starting to burn red. He gulped and nodded mutely. Brevis turned and walked back toward the main area of the changing room, where the rest of the team were now assembling.

Ron's predecessor, Merwyn Finwick, had been on the team almost as long as Brevis and had been much loved by the fans. His death, after his skull was fractured by a rogue Bludger at the very end of the previous season, had made the front page of the Daily Prophet when it happened. It had made the back page for many days following that too, with articles calling into question the safety of Bludgers and of the game in general, and whether the rules needed tightening or not to protect the players. That debate was still ongoing and probably would be for the next few decades. However, the death of the Tornadoes' Keeper had given Ron the break into professional Quidditch he'd been after for years. It wasn't his childhood dream of glory with the Chudley Cannons, but the Tornadoes were a well-respected and consistently good team, unlike their citric counterparts, whose streak of bad luck since 1972 still continued unabated. Ironically enough, it was the Cannons they were playing that day for Ron's debut match, the first match of the season.

He packed his clothes into his bag, deposited them in his locker, smoothed down his pristine robes once more and went to join the rest of the team. Brevis Birch was just launching into his pre-match pep talk as Ron joined the circle of players. It included pretty much the whole history of the team from its foundation in 1520, or so it seemed to Ron, as well as reminiscences about 'Old Merwyn'. He did eventually get round to the more relevant tactical points after several pairs of eyes had glazed over.

"Hopefully the Cannons' defence will be at its usual standard today - shouldn't cause us too many problems if it is. Keep the play as much down their end as possible, and seize every opportunity. And even if it does get down our end, Weasley is more than capable of taking care of it."

The other members of the team grinned and slapped Ron on the back good-naturedly.

"We're not the only ones with a new team member today though," Brevis added, and everyone's ears pricked up. "Galvin Gudgeon was injured in their last practice a couple of days ago, and I've heard they're trying out a totally new Seeker in his place. They've kept the details firmly under wraps. All we know is that she - yes, I said 'she' - hasn't played a full game of Quidditch since she left school. I doubt someone with that background and lack of experience will give us any problems, but best keep an eye out just in case."

*

The roar of the crowd intensified as he walked down the tunnel from the changing rooms to the pitch. His heart pounded as the sound filled his ears. This was it, the realisation of a dream - Ron Weasley: Professional Quidditch Player. He took his place in the player formation, gripping his broom rather more tightly than was absolutely necessary. He knew his face was slightly flushed - he couldn't help that, it always was when he was nervous - but he wasn't going to let that bother him. He closed his eyes for a moment and focussed his attention of the game before him. He wasn't going to let anything faze him, not crowds, nor expectations, nor old memories.

"Let's go!" boomed Brevis.

The team marched onto the pitch as one. The captain raised his arm in greeting to the crowd, who clapped and cheered even louder. Ron looked straight ahead rather than up into the stands; it was easier to concentrate that way.

Their opponents walked onto the pitch from the tunnel on the opposite side, and the noise from the furthest stands escalated even more. The teams met in the middle where the referee stood, and the Chudley Cannons' burly capital stepped forward to shake Brevis Birch's hand.

"Teams at the ready!" called the referee, opening the box of balls.

Ron mounted his broom in readiness. The whistle blew as the referee released the Bludgers and the Golden Snitch. Ron and the rest of the team shot into the air and took up their positions, as did the Cannons. A split second later the Quaffle soared high into the air too, and the game commenced in earnest.

The game was so much faster and more intense than the matches at school that it took his breath away. He only had to blink and the Quaffle could be in a totally different part of the pitch. Brevis had been right: The Cannons' defence was not the best in the world, and the Tornadoes' Chasers were very successfully calling all the shots.

"Go for it, Barney!" yelled Ron, punching the air as the blue-clad Chaser scored his third successive goal in as many minutes. He clapped as the crowd roared their appreciation, but the next second he was poised and ready, his hands back on his broom. The Cannons' captain had possession of the Quaffle and was heading in his direction like a streak of orange lightning. He only just registered the ball leaving the man's hands and reacted on instinct. Gripping the broom between his knees, he lunged forward with both hands outstretched and deflected the Quaffle down to the left. His first professional save! He overbalanced slightly and swung three hundred and sixty degrees round the broom handle to get upright again.

It was then that he saw her, high above him, circling the pitch. Her long, black hair was tied loosely back, framing a face that had lost none of its beauty over the years. Bloody hell, it can't be, he thought. He stole a second look. Yep, it definitely is her - Cho Chang. I haven't seen her since I left school. Ron shook himself back to the present, and not a moment too soon. The Quaffle was heading back in his direction again. However, even as he began to move to intercept it, the Cannons' Chaser was almost unseated by a Bludger from Brevis, and possession changed hands once more.

"Keep your eye on the Quaffle, Weasley," the captain yelled across at him. "Don't be distracted by a bit of skirt!"

Ron's ears started to burn red. He felt inexplicably indignant for Cho - sure, she was pretty, but she was someone he knew, someone he associated with much more carefree times. He frowned, pursed his lips and focussed on the game in hand.

The match was going well for them. The score stood at 60-0 to the Tornadoes. It would have stayed that way, too, except that the Quaffle shot towards the hoops at the same time as a well-aimed Bludger. He could possibly have got to the ball in time, but been knocked out of the sky straight afterwards. Given the choice, Ron decided that letting in one goal and keeping himself intact was much the better option. That was the Cannons' only goal, though. Barney Wilson scored four more goals, and the only two times the Quaffle came down his end, Ron saved them easily. It seemed to him that he was growing more accustomed to the speed of play as the game went on.

Suddenly there was a roar from the crowd, and Ron saw some spectators jump up and point. He looked up. The two Seekers were converging on a spot high above the stands to his left. Sure enough, the autumn sunlight reflected off the gold of the tiny Snitch in their sights.

Ron glanced along the pitch and was pleased to see that the Tornadoes' Chasers were still harrying the Cannons' Keeper and defence. He looked up again. The Golden Snitch had fluttered much nearer to him now, and the Seekers were swooping down towards him. He could see Cho Chang's face. She was concentrating so hard, so focussed that she could see nothing else; it was etched in her features. Chuffer Baldwin, the Tornadoes' Seeker, was certainly making no allowances for the gender of the Cannons' Seeker; he was barging her and jostling for position with her as he would with any opponent. Ron found he was pleased to see that Cho was responding in kind. She was lighter than Chuffer, and this gave her an advantage in increased broom speed that she was using to her benefit. A couple of times she edged ahead, only to be knocked aside by the superior weight of her opponent, but still she persisted. As they neared Ron, she shot him a wink and a smile and then concentrated hard on the tiny ball as if it had never happened. Inexplicably, his heart skipped a beat. The Golden Snitch veered past Ron to the left, and this gave Cho the advantage. She pulled ahead of Chuffer, and despite his attempts to wobble her broom by hitting the brush end repeatedly with his handle (it being a foul to physically take hold of an opponent's broom), she managed to reach out her left hand and take hold of her target.

*

Back in the changing room, Ron wearily changed out of his robes. Quidditch was hard work. And this was the first game the Tutshill Tornadoes had lost to the Chudley Cannons in two and a half centuries.

"Well played," Brevis consoled him with the usual thump on the shoulder, but without the usual enthusiasm.

As he finished dressing, there was a knock at the changing room door, which Barney answered.

"Letter for you, Ron, and the boy's waiting for an answer," he said a few moments later, handing over a piece of sealed parchment. Puzzled, Ron took it and broke the seal, retreating into the far corner of the room to read it:

Ron,

The Bit of Skirt was wondering if you'd like to meet her for a post-match drink in the Arithmancer's Arms. Shall we say 6pm?

Ron's mind filled with questions and possibilities almost instantly. Heck, she wants to see me?! What've I done? Does she fancy me? She is pretty... What would Harry think? Without giving himself the chance to think himself out of it, he hurriedly tore a piece from the bottom of the parchment, grabbed a small stub of pencil from the side pocket of his bag, scrawled 'yes' and folded it in half. He went to the door and found a young boy waiting outside, obviously wide-eyed at the prospect of running messages for famous Quidditch players.

"Here, take this back," he said, handing the lad the parchment and a couple of Knuts he happened to have in his pocket.

*

At five to six, Ron Apparated in a small Prestatyn side street. He looked around cautiously; no one in sight. He walked along the road a short way and then turned down an alleyway between two run-down cottages. A metal sign in the shape of an abacus protruding from the wall of the building on the right creaked slowly in the wind. Any Muggle coming down here would see a ramshackle, boarded-up shop front. Behind the camouflaging spells on the property, Ron knew he would be able to see the cosy flicker of candlelight from the tables of Wales's only wizarding inn. He'd come here a few times before with the other players for post-practice wind-down. Not a bad pub, he reflected. Much nicer than the Hog's Head, or the Leaky Cauldron for that matter, but not a patch on the Three Broomsticks, not with Madam Rosmerta in charge at least - the scenery was much too good there.

He gave a quick glance left and right, pushed open the door and went inside. As it was early in the evening, the place wasn't that full. There were just a few people in the various nooks and crannies having their tea. The Arithmancer's Arms had a reputation for good food - Ron was particularly fond of their steak pie.

Cho was already there, sitting on a stool at the bar. When she saw him, her face lit up with a smile.

"Hello, Ron. I'm glad you could make it."

"Um, hi," he replied awkwardly, the heat rising in his face slightly. There was a moment's pause where Ron wondered what to do next. "Can I buy you a drink?"

"Yes please, a Butterbeer would be lovely."

He ordered two Butterbeers, and when they'd been served, he picked them up from the bar and motioned towards a table in the corner. "Shall we go and sit over there? The chairs are comfier than the stools, and it's much less exposed."

Cho grinned. "We're both professional Quidditch players now - we're supposed to like being the centre of attention," she teased, but she headed over to the corner all the same.

"So, how come you ended up working for the Cannons then?" he asked as soon as they were settled.

"I applied for a job, same as you, I expect," she replied. "I've been a Quidditch fan all my life - I was raised on it. And then after playing at school..."

"That's it, I remember now!" said Ron suddenly, interrupting her. "You used to support the Tornadoes when you were at school, didn't you?"

"Yes, I did, and I still have a fondness for them. I remember you having a go at me about it once. Didn't you support the Chudley Cannons back then? Rather ironic, don't you think?"

Ron laughed out loud as the strangeness of the situation hit him. "Yeah, we've swapped teams!"

That was the spark, which ignited the conversation for the evening. They swapped stories and memories of their teams for a couple of hours that just flew by; of games they'd watched as kids, of their favourite players, of Quidditch at Hogwarts, and of their early experiences of professional Quidditch. Ron had to admit that Cho really did know her stuff, and she went up a notch in his estimation.

"You played brilliantly today," he told her, and he meant it. "You were playing against much more experienced players, but you did it - you won the Cannons their first real victory in over a century. I know I shouldn't be pleased about that, but I am."

She blushed and said coyly, "Thank you. You did really well too for your first proper match. The Quaffle only got past you once, didn't it? And that's no mean feat in such a fast game."

"All of which reminds me," she continued, "I'm starving. I never eat much before a match, because it slows me down. But a match really takes it out of you, doesn't it? If I don't eat soon, I'll waste away." She put her arms on her hips and looked down at her sylph-like, jeans-clad figure, and Ron spluttered into his Butterbeer as his eyes followed hers. "Do you mind if I order some food?"

"Um, no, no, that's fine," he said, recovering his composure, "in fact, I'll join you - they do a really good steak pie here."

"Ooh, that sounds good - steak pie for two it is then."

Cho went to the bar, ordered the food and came back with a couple more drinks. When the food arrived at their table, Cho tucked in with gusto, which surprised Ron. He'd always thought she'd be one of those figure-conscious faddy girls, particularly as she had such a good figure to start with (he resisted the temptation to have another look at this point), but he was rather glad he was wrong. There's a lot more to her than I thought there'd be, he thought appraisingly.

The conversation was easy between them. They talked about family, old school friends, Ministry politics and even more Quidditch. All too soon Ron realised it was late, and that he had to go if he was going to be alert enough for the team meeting the following morning.

"I'm really glad you sent me that note," he said. "I've had a great time this evening. We must do this again sometime."

"Yes, I'd like that too. It's been fun - more fun than I've had in ages," she replied.

He got up and handed Cho her cloak. He was just putting on his own when a thought occurred to him.

"You don't think," he asked, frowning, "that people'll think we're passing team secrets to each other, do you?"

Cho laughed. "Stranger things have happened. But they shouldn't do - after all, we've played our match already. But if they do, we can soon put them straight - we are professionals now, after all."

"Yeah, professionals..." His face split into a wide grin. "God, that does sound good, doesn't it?"

"It's more than I ever thought I'd be able to say - a dream come true," she smiled back.

"What about the same time next week?" he asked tentatively as they reached the door.

When Ron Apparated home a few minutes later, Cho's address on a piece of parchment in his hand, his heart and mind were buzzing with the events of the day. His team may have lost at Quidditch, but he felt like he'd still won.

*