Disclaimer: I own none of this. It all belongs to J.K. Rowling. I just meddle in her world.
Author's Note: This was a project I undertook as a gift for my good friend Nitya. Now, with her urging, I've decided to put it up on Portkey. So thank her and enjoy!
Of Quidditch and Mackled Malaclaws
Ron Weasley had spent a lot of time since his disastrous fifth year honing his Quidditch skills to become a top notch Keeper. There had been long hours spent at the Burrow with his sister, Ginny, and best friend, Harry Potter, blocking their makeshift Quaffle from hitting the trees. And he had become pretty damn good at it, thank you very much. He was so good at it now that he had seven, yes seven, different professional Quidditch teams asking him to try out for their team. Even Harry didn't have that many teams clamoring after him, although it really didn't matter, considering Harry had started his Auror training.
So Ron went and tried out with the Appleby Arrows, the Caerphilly Catapults, the Kenmare Kestrels, the Wimbourne Wasps, the Falmouth Falcons, the Pride of Portee, and his favorite team, the Chudley Cannons. Each tryout had been a success and now he only had to choose which team he wanted to be a part of. It was a hard decision, which was why he sat on a Saturday morning at the Leaky Cauldron, waiting for his friends.
Harry Potter and Hermione Granger entered the inn hand in hand. They had started going out a few weeks ago officially, after spending nearly two years looking for and destroying Horcruxes, allowing Harry to finally defeat You-Know-Who. (Ron still found it hard to say the Dark Lord's name, even though he was dead. Old habits die hard, after all.) Before that, Harry and Hermione had spent a year dancing around each other once Ron and Hermione had called it quits after about six weeks of dating. Ron had always thought that if he dated Hermione, kissed her and such, that their constant bickering would end. The effect was quite the opposite; in fact, they bickered more.
"Hey Ron," Harry greeted, pulling a chair out for Hermione to sit in as Hermione smiled and said, "Hi Ron!"
"Hey," he said, smiling at the two. He had to admit, they made a fine couple.
Harry sat down. "So, what is it that you wanted to talk to us about?" he asked.
"Well…" Ron began, thinking about what he wanted to say, "…you two are probably the most important people in my life, even more so than Mum and Dad, so I wanted you two to be in on the decision making process."
"Concerning what?" Hermione queried.
"Concerning which Quidditch team I join," Ron replied.
"Oh," she said simply, sitting back in her chair. "Why do you need our help with that?"
"Because I don't want my Quidditch career to affect our friendship," Ron said, annoyed that she didn't seem to think that this was important.
"Well, what does your gut tell you to do?" Harry asked, who seemed a lot more interested than Hermione, much to Ron's relief.
"Join the Catapults. They had the best record last season," he said glumly.
Hermione gazed at him sharply. "But you don't really want to join that team," she said.
"No," he admitted.
"Then what team do you really want to join?" she asked.
"The Cannons, of course! They're my favorite team!" he said loudly, causing a few others to look over in their direction.
"Then why don't you just join them? It's what you want," Hermione said reasonably.
"Because they suck. There, I said it. They suck."
Harry roared in laughter. "It's about time you admitted it, Weasley. Puddlemere United is the best."
"Says you," Ron muttered. "But really, what should I do?"
"Do what your heart tells you," Hermione said, shooting a glance at Harry and grinning. "You wouldn't believe just how much happier your life will be."
He frowned. "That's all well and good, Hermione, but I don't want to lose. How is being part of the worst team in the league going to make me happier if I hate losing?"
Shrugging, she said, "Learn to cope with failure."
He scoffed. "You're one to talk. Seen a boggart lately?"
Harry chuckled as Hermione rolled her eyes. "Listen mate, you really want to join the Cannons, right?"
"Yeah."
"But you don't want to lose, right?"
"Yeah."
"Well, then you've got two options: flip a Galleon to see which team you should join or do what your heart tells you instead of your brain. Who knows, maybe you'll improve the team with your impressive keeping skills," he said.
"Got a Galleon?"
"Ron!" Hermione scolded, but laughed. "For Merlin's sake, just join the Cannons! You know you want to. Just do it!"
"Yeah, quit being so pigheaded, you thick git," Harry said, grinning.
"Okay, okay! I'll do it," Ron said, shaking his head. "See, this is why I need you two - you make me see reason."
"Ha! That's a bunch of bull," Harry said. "But we're glad you love us anyway."
Ron chortled bemusedly. "That I do. That I do."
*****
Two weeks later, Ron stood at the edge of the Chudley Cannon's practice pitch, examining his surroundings. Never in all his wildest dreams did he think that he'd actually make it, that he would be there playing with the Cannons. He let out a sigh of contentment as he stood there in his orange robes and his brand new Firebolt, the broom the team was using that year.
"Early for practice, Ronald?" asked a dreamy voice behind him.
He jumped and spun around to see Luna Lovegood standing there with a notepad and quill. He cleared his throat in an attempt to regain composure. "No, the others are in the locker room," he said and then gave her a hard look. "What are you doing here?"
"Oh, I'm here to do an article," she said airily.
"An article? For the Prophet?"
She gave him a slightly reproachful look. "I would never write for that rag. No, I'm writing an article for Daddy's magazine."
"The Quibbler?" He laughed. "What on earth would The Quibbler want with a Quidditch team? There aren't any hokey things happening here!"
"But there is!" she insisted. "Didn't you know?"
"Know what?"
"I'm doing an investigation into why the Chudley Cannons have such horrible luck in Quidditch, and I know why it is," she said happily.
"And why is that?" he asked in a bored voice.
"Because this team has an infestation of mackled malaclaws," she said matter-of-factly.
He stared at her. "You've got to be kidding."
The look on her face was the most serious that Ron had ever seen on her. "No," she said. "It is the only logical explanation. After all, no team has ever had a worse losing streak than the Cannons."
"Logical," he repeated, snorting. "And how do you explain away matches?"
"It's quite simple. One of the malaclaws is attached to a team member when they Apparate," she told him.
"But Luna," Ron reasoned, thinking of what Hermione had told him while she was in one of her crazed studying modes, "I thought mackled malaclaws only live near the shore."
"Well, we may not be exactly at the shore, but it's not far," she pointed out.
He chuckled. "Alright, alright. I tell you what…you and I go back some, Luna, so I'm going to do you a favor."
Her eyes sparkled. "Really?"
He nodded. "Yep. I will personally look for the mackled malaclaws and when I find them, I'll make sure they get back to the coast. I don't want my team to suffer from bad luck, of course."
She smiled brightly. "Thank you, Ronald! I truly appreciate this!"
"Of course," he said, grinning. "And I'll make sure to contact you right away so you can write a story about it."
"Then I shall await your owl," she said. Suddenly she closed the gap between them and hugged him tightly. "Again, I thank you, Ronald."
He patted her awkwardly on the back. "No problem. Just doing what I can to help."
Suddenly the door to the locker room opened and the rest of the team came walking out. Luna eyed them thoughtfully as she released Ron. "I guess I should go. Have fun practicing, Ronald, and I'll see you later!" With that, she Apparated.
*****
Ron, of course, did not do any searching for mackled malaclaws. It was completely ridiculous! But that was Loony Luna for you. She always believed in the most insane ideas.
Practices had been going well. Ron's teammates were very happy to have him on the team. The team's manager, Ragmar Dorkins, even slapped him on the back, exclaiming, "You might just save us a few matches this year, Weasley!"
The Cannon's first match of the season was against the Wigtown Wanderers. Ron had made sure to get tickets for his entire family, plus Harry and Hermione. However, the reactions to getting the tickets weren't quite what he expected.
"It's on a Wednesday?" Hermione asked, reading the ticket. "At two-thirty in the afternoon?"
Ron nodded. "Well, with having the worst record in the league last year, our matches are scheduled at odd times."
She gave Harry and anxious glance. "I've got an important meeting then and Harry's got training that day, Ron…"
His heart sank.
"We're going to try to make it though, Ron. Really," Harry said. "And we appreciate the free tickets."
"Yeah. Well, I hope you two can get out of training," he said glumly. Then he left Harry and Hermione feeling extremely guilty.
*****
They day of the match arrived and Ron felt rather nervous. It was his first professional match and if he screwed it up, the team could start wondering if they had gotten themselves a good new Keeper. The last thing he wanted to be was sacked.
The time finally arrived and he walked out of the tunnel and onto the pitch as the commentator announced his name to cheers. He looked around and spotted his mother and sister, along with Fred and George. But no Harry and Hermione.
He sighed. Obviously they couldn't get out of their work related obligations.
"Good luck, Ronald!" he suddenly heard above him. He turned his head to see Luna right above him in the stands. "I hope the mackled malaclaws don't strike!"
He couldn't help himself; he laughed. Her quirkiness completely drove Harry and Hermione's absence from his mind. "Thanks, Luna!" he called back, continuing on towards the center of the pitch.
Ron waited until the referee instructed the fourteen Quidditch players to mount their brooms. Then, at the whistle, he took off for the goalposts, preparing for what was probably going to be a grueling day.
It seemed that almost immediately a Wigtown Chaser was launching the Quaffle at his left goal hoop. He dived for it and just barely caught it, but when he did, the crowd erupted into cheers. He grinned and threw it back to one of his teammates.
That day, the Quaffle only got past Ron twice, although Galvin Grudgeon managed to slip off this broom while trying to catch the Snitch, allowing the Wanderers to win. But that didn't bring Ron down, surprisingly. No, he was quite proud of his performance in the match, which was only heightened by the fact that he could hear Luna cheering on only him louder than any other fan in the stadium.
Try as he might to dislike her, she had grown on him since his sixth year at Hogwarts, when she had made that absolutely hilarious commentary of the Quidditch match where that imbecile McLaggen had taken a Beater's bat and accidentally sent a Bludger at Harry. She was completely mental, but she was also idealistic and Ron, for some odd reason, found that to be rather endearing. She wasn't Hermione, who was always very practical, nor was she like Lavender, who always seemed so dependent. Luna was her own spirit, so to speak, and Ron liked that about her, although he'd never admit that out loud.
Back in the locker room, Ron changed back into his regular clothes while Dorkins sighed and said, "We almost had that one. They beat us by thirty points. Fourteen goals…that's pretty good for us, and Weasley, great job defending the turf. Alright, practice next week. Let's see it we can scrape up some dignity against the Tornados."
When Ron left the locker room, he expected to find his family waiting there for him. Instead, he found Luna.
"Oh, hi Luna. Did you enjoy the match?" he asked as he continued walking, Luna going with him.
"Not really. You didn't win," she said, her eyes round and wide.
"You mean we didn't win. There are six other players on the team, you know," he said.
"Oh, I don't care about them," she said casually. "You did really well, though, saving all those attempted goals."
Ron couldn't believe it, his face was turning red. "Er - thanks." Then he cleared his throat. "Spot any mackled malaclaws?"
"No, but then again, I really wasn't looking," she said. "I was far more interested in watching you.
His steps faltered and he nearly tripped. "In me?"
"Well certainly. I don't know any of the other members of the team," she said, gazing at him. "Are you alright? You're quite red. Did you swallow a bug?"
He somehow managed to laugh. "No. Sorry, but are you always this direct?"
"How else should I be?" she asked.
"I dunno. Less…direct?" When she giggled, he gave her a hard stare. "Is there something you want, Luna?"
"Well, if I'm so very direct, wouldn't I have already asked you?" she challenged.
He frowned. Damn those smart Ravenclaws. "Okay, you've made your point. Now really, why are you here?"
"Just to see you," she replied.
Instead of going red, he was sure that he had paled. "Why? Why me? Why not go visit Harry or Neville or somebody else?"
"Because I like you better than those two."
He stopped dead in his tracks. "What?"
"Well, Neville's a bit indecisive and clumsy while Harry's far too famous for my liking. He's nice and sensitive, but he's got a bit of an ego when it comes to rescuing people. Have you noticed?"
Suddenly Ron thought of the time Hermione had told Harry that he had a "saving people thing." Both of them were right. "Yeah, I've noticed a bit. But it's no big deal - he saved the world from You-Know-Who!"
"Did he? Did he really do that all alone?" she asked.
He stared at her in awe. "Well Hermione and I certainly didn't kill You-Know-Who."
"No, but without you, Harry wouldn't have been able to kill him. You're as much of a hero as he is," she said.
"Ha!" he scoffed. "I'm no hero. I just tagged along for the ride. I'm nothing more than a Quidditch playing sidekick and I accept that now."
"You're far more than just some sidekick, Ronald. Nobody walks around and calls Hermione Granger a sidekick. Those who know about her part in the war call her a heroine. It's the same with you, Ronald. Those who know about what you did to help Harry call you a hero," she said, gazing up at him with earnest eyes.
He shook his head. "Nobody knows what I did. I'm not the famous one."
"There are people," she said. "I know."
"Look, I'm not a hero. All I did was help Harry find some Horcruxes and destroy them. No big deal," Ron said angrily. This was really starting to annoy him.
"Yes," Luna said dreamily, "that's all you did."
"It wasn't important!"
"Yes it was," she said. "If those Horcruxes hadn't been destroyed then Harry wouldn't have been able to kill You-Know-Who, plain and simple."
He sighed. "Look, I don't want to argue, okay? I've just lost a bloody match. Now, if you don't have any reason to see me, then I'm just going to go, alright?"
She frowned. "Very well."
"Thank you," he said. "Good-bye."
*****
Harry and Hermione made it to the next match and, to everyone's surprise, the Cannons were able to pull off an upset. Ron had saved over twenty goals by the time the Snitch had been caught and the Cannons wound up the victors by just ten points. Ron's teammates hoisted him up onto their shoulders as they celebrated down on the pitch, the Chudley fans storming it much like the Houses at Hogwarts would when their team had won the Cup.
"You and I are going to have to go out and celebrate with some firewhiskey!" Harry called up to him from the ground as he stood along side Hermione, who was beaming.
"Are you buying?" he asked.
"Definitely!" Harry yelled.
Ron let out a whoop of excitement and celebrated some more with his teammates when he suddenly heard a familiar voice yell up to him, "Wonderfully done, Ronald!"
He looked down and saw Luna in the crowd. Why was she at another one of his Quidditch matches? He tapped the shoulder of his comrade to indicate that he wanted down. When his feet finally touched the ground, he walked over to her.
"What are you doing here?"
"Enjoying a match, silly," she said. "Congratulations."
"Thanks," he murmured. "But why?"
"Well, because you won-"
"Not why are you congratulating me, why did you come here?"
"To see you play."
He gaped at her for a moment before looking to see that no one was watching them. Then, he grabbed her by the upper arm and pulled her all the way to the locker room. "Why must you see me play?"
"Because I want to," she told him. "Oh, your performance today will get you an interview with the papers, I bet. It's a shame Daddy won't do an article on your Quidditch career and how you've obviously gotten rid of the mackled malaclaws."
He let out a frustrated growl. "I didn't do anything! There aren't any mackled malaclaws here!"
"You must have done something. This team's luck is turning around," she said.
He started to pace. "I don't know why that is! Maybe it's because I have talent!"
She nodded. "You certainly do."
He stopped and stared at her for a long, hard moment. "You were never here about a mackled malaclaw story for The Quibbler, were you? You've been coming here for some other reason entirely, haven't you?"
For the first time since he had met her, Luna looked ashamed. "Yes," she said meekly.
"Why then?"
Her large, protuberant eyes gazed back up at him. "You."
He was taken aback. "Me?"
She nodded. "Yes."
"Why?"
"Because I love you and I have for the longest time," she said and then turned away from him.
Ron stared at the back of her dirty blonde head. Did he just hear that correctly? She loved him? How? When? Why? All these questions sprang into Ron's mind and seemed to whirl around, leaving him dizzy.
"I've got to sit down," he murmured and pulled a chair over.
"I'm sorry, Ronald," Luna said, turning around to face him. "I wasn't supposed to tell you yet. Not while you still find me…irritating."
His head shot up. "Irritating? You think I find you irritating?"
"Yes. How else would you find me? After all, I'm not exactly what a person would call 'normal' and I certainly have been a nuisance to you ever since I started showing up for your matches. We've done nothing but argue," she said.
"Yeah, well, Hermione and I argue a lot and I don't find her irritating," he muttered.
"Then what do you think of me?" she asked.
"I - er - " His shoulders slumped. He liked her well enough, yes, and she was alright on the attractiveness scale, if you took away the radish earrings and the butterbeer cap necklace. He'd even like to consider her a friend of sorts. But he didn't fancy her. "I'm sorry, Luna," he said, "but I just don't feel the same way."
She didn't look hurt, or even a bit sad by his statement. "I know." She glanced towards the locker room door. "I should leave you. Good-bye, Ronald."
*****
Luna didn't show up to the next match, much to Ron's dismay, surprisingly. Truth be told, he had gotten used to Luna coming to his matches and cheering him on. Her not being there made the game feel…different. So different that Ron became distracted during his third match of the season and missed four critical goals, causing the Cannons to lose. In frustration afterwards, he slammed his robes in his locker and got dressed roughly before leaving, not even sticking around for Dorkin's usual end-of-the-match talk.
He Apparated to Hogsmeade without any idea why. All he wanted was a drink. Well, the Three Broomsticks was in Hogsmeade, but he didn't want to be around too many people. He looked up and found himself in front of the Hog's Head. An amused snort escaped past his lips. His subconscious had obviously brought him here.
He walked inside and immediately wrinkled his nose in disgust as the smells of ale, vomit, and goats clogged his nostrils. Frowning, he stepped over to the bar and sat down.
"What can I get you?" asked the bartender.
"Something strong," Ron replied.
The bartender took out a dusty glass and filled it up with a murky brown liquid. "Bad day?"
"You could say that," Ron said, accepting the glass. "I feel like shit."
"A lot of people who come in here feel like that," the bartender said. "This dank place is a good place to drown your sorrows in."
Ron lifted the glass to his lips and downed the drink in one gulp. He shuddered. "What the hell is this stuff?"
"A cross between rum and firewhiskey, laced with Everclear," the bartender said. "That strong enough for you?"
"Bloody hell, yes. What are you trying to do? Poison me?" Ron muttered irritably.
"You asked for something strong," the bartender said brightly.
Ron rubbed his head. "Well it tastes like piss."
The bartender gave a hearty chuckle, startling a few of the patrons. "And you know what piss tastes like?"
He scowled. "Why are you in such a cheerful mood anyway? I always thought you were dour."
"I won a bet," the bartender replied. "I knew that the Wasps would beat the Cannons, even with that new Keeper of theirs."
Ron growled. "I'm their bloody new Keeper!" he shouted, slamming a Galleon on the table before getting up to leave. "Keep the change."
*****
The next morning found Ron feeling miserable. It didn't have anything to do with the alcohol he had consumed the previous day - it hadn't exactly been enough - but it had more to deal with, he was horrified to discover as he thought about more and more, Luna. He felt terrible about their last meeting, where she had declared her love for him and all he could do was say that he needed to sit down. What a git!
He needed to talk to somebody about this situation he was in. He needed help understanding what he was going through, what he was feeling. There was only one person in the whole world who could possibly understand and that was the reason why Ron resolutely threw a handful of Floo Powder into his fireplace and stuck his head in before shouting, "Number twelve, Grimmauld Place!"
Harry and Hermione were sitting down for breakfast when Ron's head stopped spinning. "Oi! Harry!" he shouted, causing his best friend to jump.
"Ron! What are you doing here? What's wrong?" he asked, jumping down next to the flames to see his friend.
"I need to talk to you…about someone," Ron said, cautiously.
"Who?" Harry asked.
"A…girl," he said quietly.
Harry looked taken aback. "I'm no good at that stuff. You should talk to Hermione. She's the expert on women."
"Possibly because I am one?" she suggested from her place at the kitchen table.
Harry glanced back. "Of course, love."
She rolled her eyes. "Ron, why don't you Floo the rest of your body over here so we can have a chat," she said. "I'll once again try to unlock all of the secrets of women for you."
"That'd be great," he said gratefully. "Thanks." Then he eyed the table. "D'you got waffles up there?"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Maybe."
"Haha!" he yelled triumphantly. "I'll be there before you know it!"
When arrived, there was a steaming hot plate of waffles sitting on their table. He collapsed onto a seat, forked three, and dived in.
"So, Ron, what is it you need help with?" Hermione asked, taking a sip of her orange juice.
"Yeah, who's the woman you're getting mixed signals from?" Harry asked, grinning.
Ron frowned and poked his food with his fork. "I'm not exactly getting mixed signals from her. She was loud and clear." He sighed and sat back in his seat. "Luna."
Hermione blinked in surprise while Harry dropped his fork. "Luna Lovegood?" he said. "Our good old snorkack loving friend, Luna Lovegood?"
"The one and the same," Ron confirmed.
Harry laughed. "Well, we knew she fancied you, but we never thought she'd actually make a move."
Ron glared at them, outraged. "You knew? You knew that she loves me?"
"Loves? Did she tell you that she loves you?" Hermione asked. "Oh dear, now I do see your problem."
"I don't love her back," Ron said, but some voice in the back of his head was trying to deny it.
"In that case," Harry said, "I don't see your problem."
"I didn't exactly break it to her gently that I don't love her," Ron told them. "I sort of went into a daze and left after telling her that I didn't fancy her. But since then…well, since yesterday really, I've been feeling downright horrible and I don't know why."
Harry shrugged his shoulders. "Guilt."
"Guilt? What d'you mean?"
"You feel guilty about how you handled things. You're afraid you hurt her feelings." He grinned. "That big heart of yours is making you feel bad because you just turned away a woman that loves you."
Hermione gave her boyfriend an approving and impressed look. "Very astute of you, Harry, but I think there's more to it than that. Ron," she said, turning back to the redhead, "is there anything that happened yesterday to bring on these feelings?"
He shook his head. "I don't think so."
She frowned. "Come on, Ron, think. What happened?"
He looked down at the table and sighed. He didn't want to see their faces when he replied. "Luna didn't show up at the match."
Harry and Hermione looked at each other for a moment and it seemed as though they were communicating to each other without using words. Ron hated it when they did that.
"Ron, is it possible that you don't exactly feel what you think you feel for Luna?" Hermione asked.
"What? No. I don't fancy her," he said, but once again a small voice in the back of his mind was trying to deny it.
"Are you sure?" Hermione asked him.
He had the word "yes" halfway out of his mouth before he fell silent. "I don't know," he said instead.
"Then it sounds like you shouldn't be talking to us," Hermione said. "Go talk to her."
His head shot up. "What?"
"Go talk to Luna. It's the only way you'll ever figure things out," she told him. "And it works. If Harry and I hadn't talked, we'd still be dancing around each other."
Harry grinned at her. "Too right."
Ron stared up at the ceiling. "You're tossing me into the acromantula pit, you know."
"No, I'm not, because I can't force you to talk to her, Ron," she said. "But it's the only way these guilty feelings you've been having will go away."
He sighed. "Fine, I'll talk to her, but - er - I do have Quidditch practice today."
"Then you better go," Hermione said. She reached over and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. "You'll be fine when you do talk to her. Things will become a lot clearer."
"Right," he muttered. "I'll see you two later. Have fun at work."
"Ha! Thanks," Harry said. "Bye, Ron."
He gave them a small smile before Apparating.
*****
He found himself thoroughly shocked when he arrived at practice, however. Standing outside of the locker room was none other than Luna herself. He gulped as part of him leaped in joy.
"Er - hi, Luna!" he said, scanning the area for any of his teammates. When he saw that there were none, he took her hand and pulled her around to the back of the locker room. "What's wrong?"
She was giving him a rather curious look. "Nothing's wrong, Ronald," she replied. "I just heard from Neville that you had a bad match yesterday."
Ron opened his mouth to speak but found he really didn't know what to say, so he said, "Neville was at the match yesterday?"
She nodded. "He got away from his internship at the British Herbology Institute to come and see an old friend play."
"I didn't even see him," he murmured sadly, running a hand through his hair.
"He's good at being inconspicuous, I've noticed," she said.
He gave her a furtive glance. "So you came here to…console me about the match?"
She shrugged. "I suppose that's what friends do." She tilted her head slightly. "We are friends at least, aren't we, Ronald?"
"Yeah," he murmured distractedly, his mind attempting to mentally smack him upside the head. "Yesterday was the first time you didn't come to a match."
"Yes, it was," she said. "I couldn't come."
"Work?" he asked, hoping that her work at The Quibbler kept her away rather than a more personal reason.
She shook her head. "Daddy lets me keep unconventional hours."
"Oh. Friends?"
She laughed at that. "You know very well that I don't have any friends, besides you, Ginny, Harry, Hermione, and Neville," she said and gazed at him with her large, round eyes. "I didn't come because I was afraid."
"Afraid?"
"Afraid that you'd snap at me if you saw me, or think that I was stalking you or something," she said quietly.
His heart sank. She had been afraid of him? "Actually," he said, bracing himself, "I kind of missed you yesterday. I missed not hearing you cheer me on."
Her eyes seemed to pop out of her head slightly. "You missed me?" she gasped.
He shrugged uncomfortably. "Yeah. I've gotten used to you being there."
"You missed me," she repeated.
He fidgeted. "I could always hear your cheering above all the rest. Not hearing it was…weird."
"Is that why you missed me?" she asked. "Because of the cheering?"
"Well, I suppose I also missed your insistence that there were mackled malaclaws haunting the pitch," he said, grinning at her.
"That was a lie," she said.
"I know, but it was funny just the same." He looked down at his shoes. "I think we should talk."
"We are talking," she pointed out.
He gave a short laugh, but kept his eyes on his shoes. "I'm confused, Luna."
"Confused about whether or not we're talking?"
"No. Confused about us," he said, looking back up at her finally.
She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "Us?"
"Yes, us," he said. "You and me. You told me you loved me."
"And you told me that you don't."
"Yeah, I know. But - er -" He was staring into her eyes and found himself to be terrified. Terrified about what he was feeling and what he was about to suggest. Terrified because it wasn't like him. Terrified because he was about to take a risk, a huge risk, and he didn't know if he'd ever be the same afterwards. "I'd like to have the chance to - er - maybe - erm - try," he finished feebly.
"Try?" She stared at him blankly. "Try what?"
She wasn't going to make this easy on him, was she? "I dunno…a relationship?"
She blinked. "You want to go on a date with me?"
He shrugged. "Yeah. I mean, that is, if you'd like to."
A breathy laugh escaped past her lips. "Oh, I'd like to."
"Great," he said with a smile as his nerves started to melt away. "Great."
"Can I give you something first though, Ronald?" she asked.
"Er - sure. What?"
On her tip toes, she leaned forward and placed a small kiss on his lips. "That."
He licked his lower lip and caught the taste of raspberries. "What was that for?"
She grinned. "It's to keep the mackled malaclaws away."
He laughed. She may have been loony, but he decided that he wouldn't want her any other way.