Always the Sidekick

Ron took virtually no notice of Luna Lovegood at first. She just seemed to be an intruder on him and his friends. He just ignored her. Maybe she wouldn't even make herself known, but then she brought up Padma Patil.

"You went to the Yule Ball with her," Luna said.

Ron glared at her. "Yeah, I know I did," he said. Who was this person anyway?

"She didn't enjoy it very much," Luna said again. "She doesn't think you treated her very well because you wouldn't dance with her. I don't think I would have minded. I don't like dancing very much."

His first thought was defense. He didn't want to go to the stupid Yule Ball in the first place. And then seeing Hermione there with Krum, well, that just compounded the matter. But he really didn't know how to dance, and that was the truth. Maybe he should have asked Luna instead, he thought.

They were to patrol the corridors every hour. This job seemed boring, as there was never much rule-breaking going on in the small hallway of the train. As Ron and Hermione patrolled for the third time that day, he overheard a conversation in a compartment full of Hufflepuffs.

"Well, there will be some openings this year," one of the boys said.

"Are you thinking of trying out?" a girl asked.

"Of course. Quidditch is the only thing that makes school bearable," the boy replied.

It hadn't left Ron's mind since third year that there would be an opening on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. It was the reason he'd asked his mother for a Cleansweep. He wouldn't let Harry know about it. What if he was awful at Quidditch? What if all those summers playing with his brothers he was as horrible as they said he was? He had to stop thinking that. He wanted to play Quidditch more then anything, and he wasn't going to let his stinking fear of rejection get in his way. Not this time.

Their journey to Hogwarts was almost complete. It was dark now, and Harry was quiet in the corner, trying to see the castle out the window. Ron watched him. His best mate. He hadn't been able to talk with Harry as much this summer as in the past, but he knew what Harry was thinking. He was going home. Ron smiled.

Hermione brought him out of his reverie. "We'd better get changed."

Ron got his robes out of his trunk. Harry followed suit, still not saying anything. Ron picked up his badge and looked at it, then tried to pin it on his robes, but he couldn't get it straight.

"Here, let me," Hermione said, taking the badge from Ron. Ron stood upright, trying to bring his chest out as Hermione pinned it to him. Her hand stopped momentarily on his chest but then fell to the side, and Ron was sure it meant nothing. Did he want it to mean something?

He looked at his reflection in the window. It looked perfect. It looked like it suited him. Maybe he was meant to be a prefect?

After dinner in the Great Hall, it was his and Hermione's job to show the first years to their dorms. He led the young boys to the dorm room up two flights of stairs. The door said, "First Year." Ron opened the door, trying not to get too friendly with the little trolls. "If you need anything, Teddy Merlot is the sixth year prefect." Ron closed the door and headed down the stairs. He stopped at the stairway that looked into the common room and saw Hermione trying to convince Crookshanks to go up to her dorm.

"Need help?" Ron laughed.

"He's got a mind of his own, I tell you," she said, sighing. She knew she was fighting a losing battle.

"How are the first year boys?" she asked.

"Fine, I guess. What about the girls? Get them all tucked in?"

"There are so many of them. Six. They all fit into the dorm; they must have expanded it magically or something. It was a huge room. But they all made it in safely."

"They're a pretty big group this year then. Six girls and four boys." Ron didn't want to go up to his dorm yet; he was grasping at anything to keep Hermione there.

"Yes, but that's good. More Gryffindors." Hermione stood there as well. Seeming to not want to go either. But after a moment, she sighed and said, "Well, I must get to bed. Goodnight, Ron." She began to lean in to him, then stopped, straightened up and picked up Crookshanks.

That was peculiar, Ron thought. But he headed up to his dorm only to quell a spat between Seamus and Harry.

The wind felt so refreshing as it blew through his hair. It was peaceful up in the air. Ron was surprised he'd been the first to find this grassy knoll just below the pond. He wasn't complaining though. He was able to fly and maneuver without worrying what people would think about him. It was, however, hard to practice Keeping when he had no Quaffle to block or hoops to defend. He just tried to pretend they were there.

He wondered if he should break down and tell Ginny so she could practice with him. But surely Ginny would tell the twins; then he'd only hear their teasing. "Trying to be like Charlie, eh?" He could hear them say. "Prefect and Quidditch champ? Well, don't count on it, little brother." No, for sure he wouldn't tell Ginny. But then what about Harry? He knew Harry wouldn't tease him. Or would he? What if he told Harry he wanted to try out and Harry just laughed, or worse, told him he was terrible and shouldn't waste his time? No, he wouldn't tell Harry either. He could practice on his own.

He continued this routine every night that week and was surprised on Thursday when a voice called up to him.

"What are you doing?" the voice asked.

Ron stopped in midair. He looked down to see one of his best friends looking up at him. He came down to the ground to greet her.

"Why aren't you doing homework? We have loads," Hermione said.

"I've already done it," he said defensively.

Hermione gave him a skeptical look. "What is all this?" she asked again.

"Just flying, is that a crime now?" Ron sneered.

"Well, when you would rather mess around and fly than study, it is, yes."

What was she, his mother? "Stop nagging me. I've got it under control. If you don't mind, I sort of chose this spot so I could be alone." And Ron kicked up on his broom and was back in the air.

The first prefects' meeting was that Saturday afternoon, and he and Hermione arrived in the classroom on the sixth floor just in time.

"It's very important you get to these meetings on time. We're only scheduled for an hour every third Saturday, which you will soon come to find is not nearly enough time to cover all the information." Melora looked annoyed. Ron could tell she was not a person to mess with.

"Sorry," he mumbled and took a seat in the back of the classroom. Hermione, however, sat in the front and pulled out a parchment and quill. Did she think this was a class?

Melora went on with some of their responsibilities and covered basic rules they were expected to enforce. Ron was not paying attention but had his eyes on the Slytherins all bunched up on the right side of the classroom. It only took a moment to realize what they were doing. Ron noticed on a piece of parchment they had the word "Mudblood" written in bold green ink. He glared at the Slytherins. They all started sniggering about something until Melora stopped and looked at Warrington.

"Would you like to take over the meeting?" she asked him, not amused.

"No, you're doing fine," he said a smirk on his face.

Ron tried to listen to the rest of the meeting but kept one eye on the Slytherins. When the meeting was finally over, the group started to shuffle out until Ron and Hermione were the last ones there. Or at least they thought they were.

"Going to go have a snog now?" asked a sneering voice behind them.

"Eat dung, Malfoy," Ron said.

"You don't want your girlfriend to hear you talk like that, do you, Weasley?"

"I'm not his girlfriend," Hermione said defiantly.

Malfoy looked her up and down. It was a challenging look, as if he were telling her to speak to him again. "Pity. I'll bet you'd be a great shag. I could beat you into submission..." but he wasn't able to get the rest of the sentence out. Ron had pounced on him.

"Ron," Hermione yelled, pulling his robes and tearing him off Malfoy.

Malfoy sneered at Ron. "Watch your back, Weasley." And he turned and left the room.

"What did you do that for? Did you hear what he said?" Ron was fuming. He couldn't move.

"I heard. But it wouldn't do anyone any good to do anything to Malfoy. He'd have you in detention before you say uncle."

Ron came out of his fury momentarily. "Uncle?"

Hermione sighed, "It's a Muggle term. It means you surrender. It doesn't matter. The point is Malfoy was trying to provoke you so he could put you in detention. Don't give him the satisfaction."

Ron looked at her, amazed. "Hermione. It was terrible what he said. Disgusting. How could you just sit there..."

"It's done. They're just words." Hermione said, but something in her voice told him it was more than that to her. She just didn't want to let on. Malfoy was the last person Hermione would let get to her. "Come on. Let's get back to the common room."

As September grew into October, Ron had more pressing things on his mind. Quidditch was horrible. How could a sport he loved cause him so much grief and humiliation? He left every practice with the tiny shred of self-respect he had shattered.

He also had one more thing for which Hermione to keep nagging at him about. The group she wanted Harry to form. The group his sister named Dumbledore's Army.

Hermione seemed to be preoccupied enough with this, her house-elf hats and O.W.L.s that she quickly left them alone. It was now that the much-needed time with Harry was available.

The dorm room was empty when Ron went in. He collapsed on his bed, exhausted from another nightmarish Quidditch practice.

"It wasn't that bad," Harry said to him, noticing the look of defeat on Ron's face.

"I am terrible," Ron said.

"Well, you'll do better for the game."

Ron wished he could sound as sure. The Quidditch match against Slytherin was tomorrow. He just hoped he would die in his sleep; then he wouldn't have to play.

This was a bad idea, Ron thought. He was perched fifty feet in the air on his broom, guarding the hoops. He was almost sick when he woke up this morning. For the first time in his life, he hated Quidditch.

He took a breath and closed his eyes when he heard the whistle blow signaling the start of the game.

It's just like at the Burrow, he told himself. See, there's Fred and George. Yeah, just a friendly game between brothers. He was so busy convincing himself that a Quaffle flew past him and into a hoop.

"Ten points for Slytherin," Ron heard Lee Jordan announce. He wasn't just at the Burrow. And those noises coming from the crowd weren't coming from his sister.

"Weasley is our King. Weasley is our King. He always lets the Quaffle in, Weasley is our King."

Ron was going to be sick. What was he thinking? He couldn't play Quidditch. He was going to tell Angelina after the game he was quitting. He had no business even being in the air. He scanned the crowd, looking for something to keep his mind off how horrible a Keeper he was. He found Ginny sitting next to a Ravenclaw boy and Luna Lovegood. That hat was hideous, he thought.

Ginny was watching the game so closely she wasn't even noticing the boy was trying to talk to her. She has three brothers playing, git, Ron thought. Of course, she's going to watch the game.

His eyes scanned again, and he saw Hermione. She wasn't watching the game. She was looking directly at him. He felt sick again. A different kind of sick and he could suddenly feel her lips on his cheek again. He could feel the burning of it. What did she mean by that? Ron thought. Well, she's kissed Harry on the cheek before. So it's probably just a friendly gesture. She noticed he was looking at her, and she gave a sympathetic smile. It was small, and he could barely see it from his distance, but it was enough. It told him no matter how bad he was a Quidditch, she would still be his friend.

Another Quaffle soared past him. The crowd was booing him. Oh, he wished he could Disapparate. This was the last place he wanted to be.

The nightmare game went on torturously long until finally Harry caught the snitch. He stalked off the field, not listening to anyone or paying attention to anything. This could possibly be one of the worst days of his life.