Adele

Adele zoomed toward the center goal, Ron focused entirely on her advancement toward the hoop. She flew down toward him at an angle, convincing him that she was going to execute a simple bomb, heaving the Quaffle through the hoop behind him. At the last moment, she leaned to her right and hurled the ball through the hoop beside him.

Ron groaned and kicked the center hoop, the metal clanging and reverberating through the empty stadium. “Bloody hell,” he muttered, running his hand over his face. Sighing, Adele flew over to him, bringing her broom to a stop beside his.

“Ron, I told you—”

“Don’t anticipate, watch the ball, I know, I know.”

“Fake-outs and falsies are the easiest way to make a goal. It’s a basic technique for any Chaser, and most Keepers fall for it.”

“Could you let up on me just a little bit?” Ron asked, smiling over at her. Adele felt her face get hot as she smiled back. He had the sweetest smile, especially in the cold. His freckled cheeks and nose flushed red, and his blue eyes shone bright in the fog.

“No, Ron,” she giggled. “If you can keep up with me—”

“I can keep up with any Chaser at Hogwarts, I know, I know.”

“Well, you just know everything tonight, don’t you?” Ron laughed and Adele’s heart did a somersault in her chest. “Look, how about we call it night. We’ve been at it for about two hours now, and it’s starting to get dark.”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Ron said with a sigh. Adele frowned as they descended onto the field. It hadn’t been one of their greatest practices. For the past six months, she had been coaching Ron one-on-one three times a week on his skills as Gryffindor Keeper. The arrangement had been made surrounded by some hostility. She was a Ravenclaw Chaser, and while the two houses didn’t have any hostility between them, competitive spirit always seemed to get the best of people. Adele was regarded as the best player at Hogwarts, and already had scouts coming to almost every one of her games. Even though she knew her team and her house wouldn’t like the fact that she was coaching Ronald Weasley at the risk of putting her own team at a disadvantage, there was no way she could’ve said no to him. He was waiting for her by her Potions class on the first day of school and begged her to train him. Although she’d been hesitant, she agreed, and she was glad she did.

When they touched down to the field, they both went off to their respective locker rooms to change back into their uniforms. She always took a longer time than Ron, having to fluff her massive curls back into place after every practice. They met back up in the middle of the field and walked into the building together, side by side. Ron, who was usually quite chatty, was quiet tonight, staring down at the ground dejectedly as they made their way through the halls. Adele hated seeing him like this, and he had been in thisgfrumpy state more often than not lately.

“What’s up, Ronnie?” she asked, casually nudging him with her shoulder. He looked over at her, gave a weak smile and sighed.

“Nothing. I’m just tired, is all.”

“You’ve been tired a whole lot lately,” Adele remarked. Ron was silent. “Care to talk about it?” she asked, linking her arm through his. She tried to ignore the way her entire body began to buzz whenever they made any sort of prolonged contact. Ron looked down at her, deciding if he should vent or not, and couldn’t help but smile. Extracting his arm from hers, he opted to sling his arm over her shoulders instead, pulling her close to him. Both laughed, and Ron realized he had never felt so comfortable before with anyone besides his family or Harry.

“I don’t know, Adele. It’s just this whole ‘Chosen One’ business.” Adele nodded, staying quiet to listen. Ever since Harry’s name had been cleared of lying about Voldemort's return over the summer, he was the most popular boy in school. All the girls wanted him, all the guys wanted to scrimmage with him; everyone wanted a piece of The Boy Who Lived.

“It’s not that Harry’s acting differently. It’s just that being around him is different. I feel totally invisible, like I’m not even there. Hermione doesn’t even pay that much attention to me anymore. She’s always fussing over Harry, making sure he doesn’t get himself killed.”

“Well, I mean, you’ve got your parents,” Adele pointed out, reaching up to pick a piece of fuzz from Ron’s eyebrow. “That’s something you have that Harry doesn’t.”

“Do I, though?” he sighed, taking his arm from around Adele to run a hand through his mop of red hair. “Mum’s always going on about what a great kid he is, and asking about him in her letters, barely even concerned about how I’m doing. It’s like she can’t mention my name without mentioning Harry’s.” The two of them slowed to a stop in front of the Ravenclaw door. Ron leaned his shoulder against the wall, his head hanging dejectedly.

“It’s like I don’t even matter.”

“Hey,” Adele cooed, her heart breaking for her friend. Ron didn’t respond, but began digging his toe into the ground. “Hey,” she said more insistently, tucking her finger beneath his chin and lifting his face just enough so she could look at him. His eyes were sad and resigned, and she could tell all he wanted to do was mope and go to bed. Adele was determined not to let that happen.

“Do you matter?” she asked sincerely, crossing her arms and looking into his face. Ron scoffed and rolled his eyes, straightening up.

“Do you matter?” she repeated, grabbing his arm to keep him from turning away.

“Yeah, sure—” he sighed, looking anywhere but in her eyes. Unsatisfied with his answer, Adele stepped forward and took his face between her hands, making him look at her. Her stomach jumped when their eyes collided, their closeness and the warmth of his skin against her palms enough to make her dizzy. Searching his face, she tried asking him one more time.

“Ron,” she murmured, swooning when he put one of his hands over hers. “Do you matter?” Ron took a moment, and she could see the answer resonating with him as his brow furrowed and his mouth fell into a straight line.

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

“Well there you go!” she laughed, throwing her hands up and dropping them at her sides. Ron smiled as well, his chest puffing out a little bit more, that familiar warmth returning to his blue eyes. “You officially matter, Ronald Weasley. Don’t forget that. Let all those stupid dildos be starstruck over The Boy Who Lived and get tattoos of his famous scar on their asses.” Ron laughed, and the sound made bells go off in Adele’s head. “You be concerned with you. And the fact that Harry is your friend no matter what. And that you have such a concerned friend like Hermione. And no matter how much they forget to show you, that your parents are your parents. Cherish that. Not everybody has that privilege, especially not these days.” Ron nodded.

Stepping closer, Adele took Ron’s hand in hers. It was big and calloused, and held her small, soft one with such care she thought she might cry. “Ronald Weasley, you are one of the most amazing people I’ve ever had the fortune of befriending. You’re kind, and you’re funny and you’re clever and spontaneous and you’re courageous—”

“I am not—” Ron protested, looking away, his face flushing.

“You are too,” Adele said, placing her other hand against his cheek and bringing his gaze back to hers.

“Harry’s the brave one—”

“There you go again, comparing yourself to Harry!” Adele said exasperatedly, throwing her hands up in the air. “Ron, this may come as a surprise to you, but I don’t care one bit about the marvelous Harry Potter.” Ron’s eyebrows shot up; that was obviously a sentiment he had never heard. Gripping the front of his robes, Adele pulled him closer to her.

“I care about you, Ron.” Ron’s eyes softened, and he ran his hand through Adele’s wild mane of curls. He had always appreciated her voluminous tresses, happy to meet someone with hair as distinctive and unique as his. “And, I never said you were brave. I said you were courageous.”

“Well, they’re synonyms,” he chuckled, wrapping his arms around her waist. Ron had never held her close like this, and Adele’s heart was rattling wildly inside her chest, clattering around her ribcage.

“They’re synonyms, but they’re not the same thing. Bravery is when you barrel into danger without any consideration of what could go wrong. Courage is when you’re terrified of everything that could go wrong, but you go ahead anyway. That’s what makes a hero, in my eyes.”

“You think I’m a hero?” Ron said, his voice barely above a whisper. Adele threw her head back and laughed, and Ron decided that her smile was the most beautiful sight on earth.

“Ron, you are my big, strong, goofy hero,” she laughed, her smile dimpling, her brown eyes twinkling. “And I’m so glad I met you,” she said, laying her palms against his chest. She hadn’t noticed Ron pulling her closer while she talked, but their bodies were pressed flush against each other, and their faces were inappropriately close.

Without another word, Ron lowered his mouth to Adele’s, and when they kissed, it was like the heavens were splitting open and pouring light into his world. Adele sighed and wrapped her arms around his neck, wanting to fall into him completely, positive that he would catch her.

They had saved each other.