𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐨𝐲 𝐖𝐡𝐨 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 (Harry Potter x Reader)

Y5 .｡:+*✧ Scars & Secret Meetings

Y/N's head shot up, and in the middle of the room, she saw her tall redhead friend standing still, with his new broom over his shoulder.

"What are you doing?" Y/N and Ron asked each other at the same time.

"Nothing!" Ron replied quickly.

Y/N looked at him up and down with raised eyebrows, forgetting about her hand for a moment- his trousers were muddy and his flaming red hair was pointing in different directions.

"C'mon, you can tell us, Ron," Harry frowned at him.

"If- if you must know," Ron stuttered out. "I was hiding from Fred and George... they were with some first years, testing their joke products, you know-"

"No point lying, mate," Harry said grimly. Ron had always been terrible at lying.

"Fine," Ron sighed, coming around to sit on the armchair next to Y/N and Harry. "OK, but you've got to promise to not laugh-"

"Oh, stop the blabbering," Y/N grinned.

"Alright, alright!" Ron looked down at his feet nervously. "I'm trying out for Gryffindor Keeper tomorrow."

Y/N and Harry stared at Ron blankly.

"You can laugh now." Ron added quietly.

"We're not laughing, Ron," Y/N said with a smile. "That's brilliant!"

"Yeah, it'd be awesome if you were on our team," said Harry, grinning eagerly.

Ron looked up at them and smiled brightly.

"You think?"

"Of course," Y/N and Harry chorused, chuckling slightly.

"Thanks," said Ron, his ears turning red, as Y/N and Harry swapped delighted looks. "Hang on- hey, what's that, on-... that's... is that- is that blood on your hand?"

Y/N's hand had been twitching the whole time, but she'd forgotten about it for a moment there. Ron was now staring at them in horror.

"Oh, it's nothing-"

But Ron had already gotten up and snatched Y/N's wrist to his eye level.

His eyes fell on the bloody letters on the back of her hand and his eyes grew wide.

"No..." Ron managed to breathe out.

"It's not what you think-"

"That old hag!" Ron bellowed, looking at both Y/N and Harry unbelievably. "She's sick! Tell McGonagall- hell, tell Dumbledore! She can't-"

"Dumbledore wouldn't care," Harry said bitterly. "he can't even look at me in the eye."

"Are you mad?" Ron roared, pointing at Y/N's hand heatedly. "You're going to let Umbitch get away with this?"

"Um-what?" Y/N managed to let out a laugh, which turned into a hiss of pain, when she accidentally swiped her hand on her leg. "Ouch!"

"Mate, you should stay out of this-"

"I think the bloody hell not, Harry," Ron spat, glaring at Harry. "not when my two (pretty) best friends are getting their hand cut open every evening."

"Tomorrow's going to be the last," Y/N said weakly, the pain on her hand growing more and more every second.

"I don't c-"

"Go to sleep, Ron," Harry said firmly. "just go. You've been practicing for hours. Get some rest."

"I don't need rest-"