The rain was heavy, the air cold and unsettling. The weather, although intense, was not going to stop him from flying. A swift breeze blew right through the change room causing shivers to shoot down his spine. Standing in the doorway, broomstick in hand, he glared towards the hoops at the opposite end of the Quidditch pitch.
Running crazily to the centre of the field, slip sliding on the way, he finally mounted his broom and kicked hard off the muddy ground. He soared high into the air, zipping around the field as fast as his broom would carry him. Looping, swooping, diving, he felt free. It was only when his fingers became numb and his robes were soaked through that he descended slowly to the ground.
Re-entering the change room, he grabbed a towel from the rack and began roughly drying his hair. Exhausted, he threw down the towel and dropped onto the bench to remove his muddy shoes.
“Hey, Ron” said Ginny raising her eyebrows at Rons now spiked hair.
Ron jumped at the sudden intrusion. After all, he didn’t expect anyone to be in the change room on such a gloomy evening. Rain was thrashing against the windows and a sudden loud clap of thunder cracked like a whip across the sky. It was days like these that made Ron feel miserable. He had hoped that flying would ease the pressure of his grief, and for moments it had, but as he thought about heading back up to the castle the feeling of relief faded.
Realising that he had completely ignored his sister and becoming curious as to why she was there in the first place, Ron turned to her to ask, “What are you doing down here anyway?”
Ginny examined the ground and spoke quietly.
“I come here to get away from the crowd, when I need to think. It seems stupid but I still get visions of that night you know. I just need to be alone sometimes.”
Without knowing it Ginny had described exactly how Ron felt, he too just needed to be alone sometimes. The day had made its transition to night very quickly over the time Ron had been away from the castle. Ron could barely see Ginny standing across the room. Another clap of thunder sounded and a flash of lightning lit up the room, revealing Ginny’s solemn expression. Tears were sliding quietly and effortlessly down her freckled cheek, mimicking the drops of rain on the foggy windows.
Ron couldn’t bear to see his little sister cry. In all honesty the situation was beginning to make him feel uncomfortable. He wasn’t sure what to do, so he opted to give her a kind of awkward pat on the back.
“It’s ok, it’s in the past, everything will be ok,” he said, hoping she would believe him and stop crying all over his already soaked robes.
As Ginny wept silently into his shoulder Ron couldn’t help but feel defenceless. How could he expect Ginny to believe him when he didn’t believe himself? They had lost Sirius, and he had been close to losing her, his friends, not to mention his sister, and now that everyone knew Voldemort had returned it was bound to get worse.
“We should head back to the common room. Dean will be wondering where I am, and it’s getting late,” said Ginny, as if suddenly realising that she was being ridiculous and it was not the time to be having a breakdown in the Gryffindor change room.
Ron nodded with relief; however he did not feel like re-entering the crowded atmosphere, but he knew he could not hide out for much longer.
Ginny left the room and Ron could see her running towards the shelter, trying to dodge the rain. He finished getting changed, pulled his hood over his head and ran towards the castle, his cloak flapping wildly behind him.
The subject of the incident at the Ministry of Magic had not crossed Ron’s mind since it happened. He had shut it out; the memory of it was too painful. Seeing Ginny breakdown like that had jolted his mind.
The route to the common room was empty, not even Filch was lurking about. As Ron ascended the stairs each step echoed off the stony walls. All Ron could think about was You-Know-Who. He felt sick knowing that his best friend Harry would undoubtedly play a significant part in the battle against him and his followers. He also knew that no matter what dangers lay ahead, he would be by Harry’s side fighting with him, and he knew Hermione would too. Hermione, what would he do?
Ron had another sinking feeling, but this time it was because he had been so distracted that he had totally forgotten about the trick step and his left leg was now trapped knee deep. Frustrated, he yanked as hard as he could, but his leg did not budge. He was about to give up when he heard footsteps approaching. It was not past curfew, but he did not want to deal with Filch right at that moment anyway.
The sound of steps was getting louder, the thunder roaring outside, and soon the owner of the footsteps would see him stranded on the stairs.
“Ron, what are you doing?” questioned Hermione. “I have been looking for you, dinner finished awhile ago and I wanted to see if you’d finished your potions homework.”
Ron didn’t think he could handle it. The smooth and half serious tone of her voice absorbed into his very skin and her smile, that smile made him sweat with nervousness. She was moving closer and his heart was racing. Why did he have to be stuck on these stairs, he was too emotional, he had to run, to hide.
Lightning struck outside once more and the eerie flicker of light across Hermione’s face reminded him of the moment with Ginny. His heart sank, she was right in front him, he could smell her in the air around him, and he could not help but remember how close he had come to losing her.
Hermione grabbed his damp sleeve and pulled on his arm as hard as she could. Ron felt his leg pulling free of the step, but Hermione had lost balance and was falling backwards, dragging him with her.
The two of them landed at the foot of the staircase. Hermione couldn’t breathe as Ron had landed directly on top of her. He immediately shifted his weight from her and opened his mouth to apologise but nothing came out.
With his heart pounding harder and harder in his chest he stared into her bottomless brown eyes and without thinking moved in to kiss her soft lips. It was the strangest and most wonderful thing he had ever felt and when he finally pulled away gasping for breath, he realised what he had just done.
Hermione was at a loss for words and just sat bewildered on the stone cold floor. Thoughts were racing around in Ron’s head. What had he done? What should he do now? All Ron could manage to say was a choked “sorry” before he sprang to his feet and ran as fast as he could to his dorm, leaving Hermione staring, mouth gaped, behind him.
When Ron finally reached his dorm he ignored all greeting from Harry, all expression on Neville’s face, threw himself onto his bed and drew the curtains. He knew Harry would not ask questions if he just lay quiet and that’s what he did. Hours passed and Ron still lay awake panicked about the situation he had brought upon himself. What would Hermione say to him when he had to face her tomorrow? Why had he been so stupid leaving her in the deserted hall without explanation? All he knew was that tomorrow would be a long day and he just hoped he could live through it. With thoughts still whirling around his mind, more hours passed, the thunder subsided and Ron slowly drifted to sleep to the sound of light rain patting against the dorm window.