COUNTING STARS || Ron Weasley

2. Quidditch Cup Hassles

 ❝Draco knows I always win, especially when it comes to bets.❞

[Three Years Later...]

THOMAS STOOD IN THE large room, the only sound being the antique grandfather clock in the corner ticking away. He sighed and briefly looked at his reflection, pressing any minuscule creases of his turtleneck sweater down, and eyed his appearance critically. There was only one person Thomas criticized more than anyone else and that was himself.

"Hey Tom, you coming? The portkey is nearly ready!" A loud voice reverberated around the grand room Thomas was currently in.

"In a moment, Julian," he called back, not taking his eyes off the mirror.

He shook his head with a soft chuckle as he heard hurried whispers of his best friends for the past three years just outside the room. After a yelp of pain that sounded suspiciously like Julian, it was quiet. Thomas returned his attention back to the long mirror he stood in front of, his dark brown eyes sweeping his person up and down, and pressed a strand of curly hair that had fallen in front of his eyes back in its position on his head.

However much his confidence may show, he never really put too much emphasis on his appearance, unlike people like his cousin. He was sure when he and his friends met up with Draco and Uncle Lucius and Aunt Cissy at the Quidditch Cup Stadium, his cousin would be wearing something quite exquisite and certainly not 'Quidditch Game appropriate' but Thomas was just content wearing his simple black turtleneck sweater and muggle jeans of the same color. Whatever their faults, he had to grudgingly admit, muggles really knew what they were doing when it came to clothes.

Thomas took a deep breath in, exhaled loudly, and gave himself one last look at the mirror before striding over to the door and opening it. Immediately a blond blur tumbled forward and it was only thanks to quick Quidditch reflexes that Thomas managed to catch him in time.

"Well aren't you a sight for sore eyes?" said the voice of one of Thomas's best friends since his first year at Durmstrang. Julian Ahmed gave him a crooked flirtatious grin and dramatically batted his eyelashes, "you come here often?"

Thomas gave him a deadpan look and dropped him on the ground.

"Ow, what the fuck!" Julian yelped as he landed on his stomach with a thump! Thankfully, for him, the two were standing on a plush rug so it didn't hurt the blond as much. But he still looked up and gave Thomas a wounded look that the other returned with a smug one. Thomas heard hurried footsteps and mentally counted. 3...2...1...

The door whirled open and the third member of their little trio stood at the doorway, her hands on her hips and a concerned but annoyed look on her face. "Why the hell did I hear what sounded like someone having a heart-to-heart with the floor?" Durmstrang's most talented Seeker of their year, Diana Ivanov, asked before she caught sight of Julian groaning and lying on the rug. "Oh....of course, it's you, were you trying to be funny again?" She sighed and walked over to help him up.

"No!" Julian huffed, but accepted her hand and pulled himself up while rubbing his arm and glaring at a smirking Thomas. "I was being a decent guy before this indecent guy ruins it, as usual."

"What's that?" Thomas said, pretending to look around. Diana and Julian both stared at him like he was crazy.

"Uh what—" Julian asked, his glare being replaced by a look of confused uncertainty as if worrying for Thomas's sanity.