You were greeted by a grinning Ron in the kitchen.
"I see your mood has changed," you noted, gratefully taking the buttered toast he was offering you as you heard your stomach rubble loudly.
He nodded. "Fred and George talked to me," he stated.
A bolt of terror ran up your spine. Talked to him? Talked to him about what? Surely they didn't tell Ron how you felt about him? You knew they were pushing you towards confessing, but you never thought they would betray you like that.
"Oh?" you asked, trying to keep your voice neutral. You took a big bite of toast and chewed to keep your mind off of Ron's next words, and your impending feeling of doom.
Ron nodded, his smile returning. "They said I can use the best Cleansweep Five we've got. Thank Merlin too, all our other brooms give me splinters."
Relief washed over you like a great tide. They hadn't ratted you out after all. You felt a twinge of guilt from believing the twins would go behind your back like that, you knew they wouldn't.
After you finished your breakfast, you headed out to the field behind The Burrow. You were greeted by the sight of quidditch balls already laid out, goalposts standing ready, and redheaded boys fighting over brooms. Hermione and Ginny chatted pleasantly with one another to the side.
You walked over to them and offered an apologetic smile. "Sorry I was so uptight upstairs," you said.
Ginny waved you off with the flick of a wrist, "We understand. Although we were quite hopeful seeing you in Ron's bed," she added with a wink.
Hermione gave you a hug with one arm and whispered, "We expect to hear all the details later." You laughed, happy to have your girls back, and followed them to the others.
"I called this one!"
"No you didn't, you great git, I did!"
"Yeah right, get your own!"
Laughing at the twins' argument, you grabbed the shabbiest looking broom in the pile. It was no secret that you were the best Chaser on your house team so you thought taking the worst broom was a fair way to even out the match. Also, you weren't in in the mood to fight tooth and nail with a ginger about a broomstick.
After the broomsticks were distributed to each player, George still grumbling about Fred taking his broom, the teams were determined. On one side: Fred, George, Ron, and Harry. On the other: you, Hermione, and Ginny. You were the chaser, Ginny the beater, and Hermione the Keeper. Much to Harry's dismay, the group had opted out of the need of the seeker role and Snitch. Instead, you would just be playing to see how many points you could score through the goals.
"Shirts vs skins!" Fred and George shouted. "Isn't that what the muggles do to keep track of their teammates, Harry?" They asked him, already yanking their shirts off their backs.
"I suppose," Harry said, following their action.
You laughed, "Yeah, except nobody ever offers to be the skins."
"Well if they looked as good as I do, they would," Fred replied confidently, earning giggles from you and Hermione. Ginny, however, scoffed at his words.
You were so busy talking to Fred that when you turned your head, you noticed Ron had already taken his shirt off. Maybe you were imagining it, but you felt his gaze flick quickly to yours and then both of your cheeks reddening instantly. This had been the second time in 24 hours that you had seen your best friend with his shirt off and it still made your heart skip a beat and your head feel dizzy. Hopefully you could keep your eyes on the Quidditch match instead of him.
Before you knew it, the match had started.
You had grabbed the Quaffle once it was in the air, and were rushing towards the other team's goalposts. You noticed your broom was a lot slower than yours at home, drifting slightly to the right as you propelled yourself forward, but that didn't impede your skills at all. In fact, before long, the score was 50-10.
"That's rubbish!" Harry shouted as you scored yet another goal. He was really getting into the spirit of Quidditch.
"The only thing that's rubbish is your flying!" Ginny countered back with a wicked smirk.
Being here with your friends, playing Quidditch outside under the sun, wind whipping through your hair- it was everything you wished for and more. You recalled sitting all alone in the great big empty house of yours, your mind would often wander to wishing for something like this. A sense of community, friendship, and family. Right now, you couldn't be happier.
"y/n, look out!"
You heard it too late. By the time your head turned in the direction of Ginny's voice, the Weasley's battered old bludger from their home Quidditch set had smacked into the side of your head. Falling from your broomstick, you really wished you hadn't forgone the helmet offered to you before the match began.
The match abruptly ended as you hit the ground with a thud. Admittedly, you weren't flying that high up, but the fall still stung. You felt a large welt on your forehead, and as you touched above your left eyebrow you were surprised to see blood.
"Ow," you commented.
The first person to reach you was Ron, looking pale with worry.
"Y/n! Are you alright?" He asked, his voice quivering as his eyes flicked between your eyes and bloodied forehead.
You nodded, but the effort in doing so made you dizzy. You swayed a little from where you sat, and Ron wrapped a protective arm around your back to steady you. Despite being on the precipice of passing out, Ron's palm being pressed flatly to your lower back made butterflies erupt in your stomach. So now you had that making your head spin too.
Concerned blue eyes stared intently at you and you tried your best to not notice how close Ron's bare chest was to you. He was breathing heavily from the game and despite being sweaty from the heat, he still smelled like cinnamon and apples. His red hair was tousled from the wind and you wanted nothing more than to reach out and run your fingers through it.
"I'm alright, just a little fall," you said, struggling to your feet. Ron kept his arm wrapped tightly around you to keep you from toppling over.
"Alright there, y/n?" Harry asked as the others came to join you. "I didn't mean to hit that blunger so hard, I'm sorry."
You waved him off with your hand. "S'all right, I've suffered from worst during Quidditch," you replied. And it was true. Last year, you had broken your arm three times during the Quidditch season. Madame Pomfrey welcomed you as a regular visitor in the Hospital Wing. You had even managed to become quite good friends with her.
After a quick survey of the group, it was obvious everyone was beaten and tired. Two hours of Quidditch can do that to a person.
"I'll take her upstairs and clean her cut. Will you lot make lunch? Or ask Mum too?" Ron asked. You were surprised by his taking charge, usually he was one to sit back and let Hermione make all the plans.
Everyone nodded and then embarked back to The Burrow.
"Despite my fall, we were winning," you proclaimed as you entered the house. You, Hermione, and Ginny shared a satisfying smile at your victory.
"I call a rematch for tomorrow," Harry insisted as he followed the twins into the kitchen.
Ron led you upstairs, his hand still planted firmly on your back, as you walked up the countless steps. After a couple levels, you had reached the tiny bathroom all the Weasley's shared.
You entered it, followed by Ron. It was quite a tight fit. With both of you standing in it, backs facing the wall, your chests were almost pressed against one another. Ron still hadn't put his shirt back on. You tried your best not to notice this fact.
He stepped closer to you, and your heart started beating so fast you felt there was a hummingbird trapped in your ribcage rather than an organ. Ron wrapped his arms around you, lifted you up, and set you on the bathroom counter. You blushed at the ease in which he did this. He really was quite strong. You remembered back in second year when he could barely push open the heavy common room door, now here he was lifting you onto counters as if you weighed nothing.
Ron searched above you in the mirror cabinet for some bandaids and ointment for your head. You waited patiently, taking advantage of his distracted attention to stare at him. He really looked good. He was biting his lip in concentration as he read different bottles to find the correct medicine, and his eyebrows were knitted together. A bead of sweat trickled down the side of his face and his freckles looked like constellations on his skin. In that moment, you swore he was the most handsome wizard you ever saw.
"Got it," he said, his deep voice snapping you out of your fantasy. "Mum used to put this on our scrapes when we were little. It might sting a bit," he warned you.
You nodded and shut your eyes as Ron wet a rag and turned to you. You felt him lean closer. Cinnamon and apple. His smell was intoxicating.
Ron lighted brushed your hair behind your ear. With a wet cloth, he dabbed the blood away. His touch felt so soft and gentle that you fought the urge to sigh and melt right into the arms. But that feeling quickly subsided as a new sensation of an intense burning reached your cut.
"Ow," you muttered through gritted teeth as he continued applying the ointment.
"I know, sorry," he replied, still concentrating.
You opened your eyes to sneak a glance at him. He was so close to you that if you moved forward a little bit, your noses would be touching. You snapped your eyes shut again, afraid that if you kept them open for a second longer, you wouldn't be able to restrain yourself anymore. You were certain you would kiss him if he stayed that close to you.
The feeling of a dry fabric being pressed to your head brought you out of your thoughts as the stinging subsided. The bandaid Ron pressed gently to your forehead seemed to help because you didn't feel dizzy anymore. Magic, it was great at healing.
Taking in a deep breath, you opened your eyes. Ron was still standing so close to you, both of his arms resting against the counter on either side of you. His eyes immediately met yours and you could swear that every sound in the world went quiet. The temperature in the bathroom seemed to increase as you were so close to one another. You couldn't help yourself, your eyes slipped from his blue eyes to his lips. Merlin, you wanted to kiss him so badly.
Looking back up, you saw his gaze was focused on your mouth as well. His eyes met yours once again. Was he leaning in? He definitely looked like he was getting closer. Is this really happening?
"Lunch is ready!" Ginny's voice traveled from downstairs to the bathroom like a shrill bullhorn. You felt as if a bucket of cold water was poured onto your head, that's how quickly you jolted from the dream-like trance you were in.
Ron cleared his throat awkwardly, moving backwards to give you more space. The absence of his proximity made you feel colder, and you wished Ginny had called you a minute later.
"Shall we?" He asked, offering you a hand as you climbed down from the counter.
"Yeah, I'm starving," you replied as you exited the bathroom and made your way downstairs. But you were more than just hungry for lunch. You had a hunger for whatever atmosphere donned upon you and Ron in that tiny bathroom. You were hungry for that feeling of being the only two in the world. It was in that moment that you realized how strongly you felt about Ron. How strongly you felt about your best friend. It was there, atop the rickety steps of The Burrow, that you vowed that this summer was the one where you would tell Ron Weasley that you were in love with him.