Mud Pies, for Harry v.2

[Ron Weasley]

Ron trudged in from the Quidditch Pitch, sweaty from a hard few hours practice. The captain of the Gryffindor team, the one and only Harry Potter had run the team ragged. He remembered a comment made by the twins about Angelina Johnson. It's like Wood died and came back as their captain. The same could be applied to Harry, only tenfold. Even Wood would have called it quits. The only good thing that would come out of their practices would be that they would probably slaughter the other teams.

He reached the bottom of the staircase, looking up at it with an evil eye. For the first time in his life, Ron wished he was a Slytherin, living downstairs in the dungeons. Ugh. His common room was all the way at the top of the school in a freaking tower. Even with all the secret passages and shortcuts, the going would wreak havoc on his sore body.

He had half a mind to just jump on his broom and ride the way up or even find a empty classroom and fall asleep on one of the tables. He sighed, discarding those options and stepped onto the stairs. Most of his energy was gone and he wasn't feeling up to the task. But, at the end of his journey would be a nice, hot shower and maybe some alone time with Hermione. With that pleasant thought in mind, Ron set off for his common room.

[Harry J Potter]

Ah. It was a wonderful, but raining day to be out on the field. It was a nice, chilly afternoon, with just a little bit of drizzle. The first couple hours went by smoothly, but then the team began to lose it's shape. His players were getting crabby, damp, and they obviously wanted to get off the pitch and into their nice warm pyjamas and common room. They were probably more tired than bored, as he was giving them quite a bit to do. The chasers zig zagged down the field, seeing how many times they could pass the quaffle before they reached the keeper's stand, and once they got there, each chaser had to attempt to throw the quaffle in three times each. The beaters were passing the bludger back and forth to try and hone their aim, then of course, the Snitch was let loose, and Harry himself was after it like a hawk on a baby mouse.

Finally though, even Harry was growing tired of this endless battle with the snitch. Obviously, when you let the damned thing go, it flies off again, and playing cat and mouse with a little golden ball does lose it's charm after a while. So, the Quidditch captain decided to call it quits. He flagged all the team members down to the center of the pitch, and with a happy gran and a scratch of the back of the neck, he let them know that it was time to retire. He then had them line up and put the four balls, (the Quaffle, Bluders, and Snitch) back into the big case which held them. The players then began to put their brooms away, as did Harry, and wandered up to the castle.

Once he entered, he noticed Ron stairing longingly at the stairs that lead downward into the dungeons. He wandered up behind the boy and placed a hand on his shoulders. "You okay mate?" he asked in concern. Usually Gryffindors didn't look longingly down the stairs, unless there was something Ron wasn't telling him. He gave a small tired smile to the redhead, as if waiting for him to answer.

[Ron Weasley]

Ron jumped as he felt somebody's hand on his shoulder. Though, turning around, he noticed that it was just Harry. "Oh, hey Harry." he said, sparing the stairs a final glance. The stairs loomed in front of him, mocking him. He really, really didn't want to climb all the way up. It was inevitable though. He'd have to do it sometime within the next few minutes.

"I'm fine. Sore and tired thanks to you." He glared at his friend, though it was half heartedly. "You should put off practice for a good month or three if they're going to keep being like that." He said, switching his broom onto his other shoulder. He rubbed his eyes, willing himself to stay awake. It looked like time with Hermione would have to wait until the next day.

"My bed is waiting for me." he said, starting up the stairs, not really caring if Harry followed him. It was a good thing that it was a Friday, or else Ron and probably the rest of the team wouldn't make it to their classes the next morning. His stomach grumbled loudly, reminding him that he hadn't eaten since lunch. Luckily, there was a small stash of food in his trunk that he could feast on once he got to his dorm.

[Harry J Potter]

"Aw. C'mon, mate!" Harry began as he trodded up the stairs after Ron, a small smile on his face. "At least now we'll know for sure we'll crush those bloody Slytherins. And anyone else who crosses our path for that matter." he explained as they made it to the top of the grand staircase, and headed to the right to make it to all those blasted moving ones. They were always so confusing, those stairs. If you got on one intending to go somewhere, you either ended up there, or across Hogwarts on an escapade to reach your original destination. Either way, they were now on a case of stairs that was moving, for once, in the right direction.

It seemed that Harry's life revolved somewhat around Quidditch nowadays. He would rather be found out on the pitch than with Ginny, and that was definitely something strange. Either way, he held his broom firmly in his hand at his side, his fingers wrapped around the Firebolt by the footholds and bristles, to make sure it's weight was balanced. Harry's free hand reached up to fix his mussed hair which, due to the wind, was quite out of form. Not that his hair ever had a form, but this was just a little too wild and crazy, even for him.

Soon they were ever closer to the portrait of the Fat Lady on the sixth floor, and Ron seemed a bit worse for wear. But then of course, Harry really had run the team ragged. A ways up, he could see some of the other Quidditch team members talking quietly, and every so often giving him tired looks as if saying, 'what was the point in all that?'. Either way, it didn't bother him too much, but he was in fact, worried for his best friend. "Are you okay, Ron?" he asked, looking at the redhead seriously.

[Ron Weasley]

"Yeah, I'm fine. That's the second time you've asked me." Ron said, slightly irritated. Lack of energy and food did that to him and also the fact that he had already answered Harry's question. His eyes quickly scanned the room, looking for signs of Hermione. If she was there, he would bid her goodnight before he went to bed, but he didn't see any signs of the bushy haired girl.

"How are things going with Ginny?" He asked, turning to his best mate. He had long since accepted the fact that there was nothing he could do about the two getting back together. He'd rather lock his little sister away in a tower until she was 50, but those were fruitless dreams. The best he could do was to take a interest in their relationship. "I haven't seen you two together in a while."

Feeling a sneeze coming on, Ron wrinkled his nose to prevent it from coming. He hated getting sick, even though magic would get rid of it the same day. It was annoying and uncomfortable, he hoped it was just a normal sneeze and not the first sign of a cold, brought on from hours in the cold and drizzling rain.

[Harry J Potter]

Harry had registered that it had, in fact, been the second time he had asked the redhead if he was quite alright, but it was an instinct to him. He couldn't watch someone who looked to be in pain, upset or just not feeling the greatest. Unless of course, it was Draco Malfoy or somone of that nature. Seriously. How was he accepted into Hogwarts again anyway? It was slightly stupid in Harry's eyes. He was the one who was supposed to kill Dumbledore, and everyone knew it. He just didn't go through with it, like Snape had. With that thought in mind, he recalled Ron asking about Ginny. How they were doing. And why he hadn’t seen the hero with his girl for a rather long time. Potter tipped his head to glance over to the other boy for a second before he answered.

“You know, I’m not really sure. I haven’t spoken with her in a while. She’s almost been avoiding me. I don’t know what I’ve done to upset her. Did you notice how she didn’t say a word to me at practice?” he said with a small shrug, as if saying it didn’t bother him. That was a downright lie, however. It bothered him deeply that she seemed to be ignoring him, or something of the like. Was he just not good enough for her anymore? Did she find someone else? Was she just annoyed with him because the practice lasted so long? That could’ve been. But all Harry really wanted was to slaughter the Slytherins at Quidditch… (Which was his main ambition at the moment.)

“I don’t know, mate… I think she’s upset with me for some reason or another.” He stared at the floor for a moment before he returned the inquiry. “And you and Mione? How are the two of you?” he asked with a small smile tipping up the corners of his lips. Harry knew that, someday, the two would group up and date. It was determined from their first year at Hogwarts when they would bicker like an old married couple. And the Boy Who Lived prayed that they would make eachother happy for a very long time.