Not Yet A King
By Evilevergreen
Ron crossed the empty locker room, sighing heavily before running his fingers through his red hair. In the other hand he carried a small bag full of ice.
“Come in,” he heard Angelina tell him when he knocked on her office door.
He entered the small room to find her sitting on the desk with her back to him.
“I um- out there- I didn’t-”
“Get to the point, Weasley.”
“Here,” he said as he journeyed closer to the desk. “I brought you some ice. . . for your lip.”
“No, thank you. I’m going to see Madam Pomfrey when I leave here,” she said softly as Ron came around the desk, but didn’t allow him to see her face as she turned her head when he came near.
“You can leave now,” she told him, but she could still sense his presence. “Weasley-” she began again a little irritated, but was cut off and jumped in surprise when she felt Ron’s hand take her chin. He then turned her head towards him and gently placed the packet of ice on her button lip. "Bold of you, don't you think?"
Ron shrugged. “It comes and goes,” he told her, not taking his gaze off Angelina’s lips.
He avoided her eyes, which he knew were bloodshot. With his locker being the closest to her office, he couldn't mistake the sobs he heard earlier as he changed back into his school robes.
She had held back her tears as long as she could as she refused to show defeat in front of the Hufflepuffs as she told them, 'good game,' but the look that appeared on her face as she made eye contact with Ron's was almost more than he could take. She had given him a chance when she knew there were other people better suited for the job, and Ron could see the disappointment as clear as day. He knew he had let his team down. He knew he had let his captain down.
"I'm sorry," his voice was no more than a whispered.
"For what?" Angelina looked at him curiously.
"For what happened," he grimaced. "Fourteen. I let them score fourteen goals against me."
"You did your best, Ron. We all did."
"Well, my best wasn't good enough," he argued with her.
Angelina smiled at him as she brought her hand to rest on his. His fingers were ice cold and turning red, but he didn’t complain. "You sound like Wood," she said.
"Too bad I can't play like him," he sulked.
The smile on Angelina's face soon fell. "Suck it up, Weasley. Stop being a baby and stop feeling sorry for yourself. There's no room for it."
"I know," he sighed, finally looking into her eyes. "That's why I'm resigning."
"What!" she yelled. "No! You're not quitting on me, Ron Weasley."
“Angelina, face it," Ron insisted as he pulled away from her, tossing the bag to the table. “I suck at Quidditch! I'm surprised I know which way is up!” He pointed off to the side, and Angelina had to hold back a smile. “I'm mean, even Sloper is a better player than me." He then leaned on the nearby wall as he ran his fingers through his hair again.
"Yeah, but a least you didn't hit me with a bat," she said, indicating her fat lip.
"It doesn't matter. The team will go a lot further without me. There's still a chance you guys can win the cup."
"How do you expect us to win the cup without a Keeper?" she asked him. "Fred would never-"
"I'm not Fred!" Ron yelled at the top of his lungs as he pounded his hands on the desk on both sides of Angelina's legs.
The sudden outburst caused her to flinch. Ron, with his face only inches from hers, whispered in a harsh tone, "I'm not any of my damn brothers."
"Ron," she began cautiously as she gently put her hand on his chest to push him away. "I never asked you be," she stated quietly.
The red-haired boy then backed away as he saw the look on her face. It wasn't fear, because Angelina knew that Ron would never do her any harm, but it was genuine concern.
"I didn't mean to yell like that," he stepped away and leaned back on the wall. "It's just I'm so tired of living in their shadows. I mean, if it's not Fred and George, it's Percy. If it's not Percy, it's Charlie. And if it's not Charlie, it's Bill. . . and I'm just so tired."
He then lowered his head as he slid to the floor in defeat. He drew in his legs and wrapped his arms around them before lowering his head.
Angelina sighed as she slipped off her desk and rested on her knees in front of him. "Look at me," she told him softly and he obeyed. She then said angrily, "What have I told you about this crap?"
Ron arched an eyebrow curiously.
"I'm not going to sit here and feel sorry for you, Ron. And if you think I am, you can get your ass off my floor and out my office because I'm making one thing clear. You-" she poked him, "are not-" she poked him again, "quitting on me."
Angelina stood. "Up!" she commanded, and Ron knew better than to hesitate. "Now what are you doing?"
"Not quitting?" he asked.
"Damn straight," she told the boy who had grown to her eye level. She then sighed and ordered, "Now get yourself to the common room and don't let me hear any more of this foolishness."
Ron nodded before starting his way to the door, but then turned back around as Angelina was sitting down.
"Why?" he asked.
"Why what?" she looked up at him as he came back and sat on the other side of the desk.
"Why me?" he began. "During tryouts, I know I wasn't the best out there."
"No, you weren't," she told him honestly. "But you were the one who wanted it the most."
"How could you tell?"
Angelina smiled. "I caught you practicing before tryouts. You're a great flyer, so I just assumed you were nervous during the tryout. I then spoke with Harry and asked him to help you out so I could spy on you then too. . . just to make sure," she laughed. "You're a slow starter, but that doesn't make you any less great, and I'm going to make you see that," she promised, and then put the bag of ice back to her lip. "Even if it kills me."
Ron then replied sadly, "You have too much faith in me."
"Maybe I do," she began, "but that's only because out of all your siblings-" she cut herself off as she had just learned how he hated being compared to them. But when he said nothing, she continued. "Because out of all your siblings, I have played alongside, it is you that holds the greatest potential. But my faith alone can only do so much. I need you, Ron, to believe in yourself and become the player I know you can be.”
“I can’t.” He shook his head slowly.
“You can,” she urged him. "And when you do, you will be a king among men."
Ron cringed, the only time he was ever referred to as a king was when Slytherin sang their insulting song.
"Sorry about that, but you know what I mean," she explained. "When you go out there, ignore the Slytherins. Think of yourself as my king, think of that field as your castle, and us players your pawns, because I have never seen you lose a game of chess. So if you must, play Quidditch as if it were a chess game."
"I still think-"
"Don't think," she said harshly, but then continued in a more gentle tone. "Play."
There was then a moment where the two only stared at each before Ron spoke. "Alright," he said quietly.
"Good," she said before Ron finally left her office.
A few minutes later she gathered her things so that she could head over to Madam Pomfrey's. She sighed as she approached her office door and opened it; she squealed in surprise when she turned the corner and felt a pair of lips on her forehead.
"If on the field, I am a king," Ron began, "then you are surely a queen."
Angelina laughed. "Comes and goes, you say?"
Once again Ron only shrugged, but then thinking quickly he said, "But let's not tell Fred about that."
Angelina continued to laugh as she took Ron's arm. "Come on, Weasley, let's get back to the tower." As they walked back arm in arm, Angelina noticed the smile on Ron’s face. She couldn’t have him think he had gotten away with something. “You know I’m telling Fred, right?”
Ron groaned as his shoulders dropped. He felt more miserable now than he did before he went to speak to her, because he knew that once she told Fred, he would have to watch his back for awhile.
“I just can’t catch a break with you, can I?” he complained.
Angelina’s only response was a shy smile. As they continued to the castle she decided not to mention the innocent kiss to Fred. It was the least she could do for her Keeper; a boy - she somehow knew “ who would one day soon rule over the Quidditch field the same way he ruled over a chessboard.
THE END