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chapter forty-three. ( headfirst into the flames )
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RON AND ASCELLA'S EUPHORIA AT WINNING THE QUIDDITCH CUP didn't dissipate for the next few days, and all Ron wanted to do was talk about what had happened. Ascella bathed in it at first — she adored being worshipped for her win, but the the glamour and shine of it dulled somewhat, and it became rather boring eventually. Another fine, warm day was upon them all, so the four Gryffindors sat under a large tree, and Ron had reluctantly agreed, having much preferred to revel in the pats of the back from other members of Gryffindor. They spread their books out in the shade of the beech tree and sat down while Ron talked them through his first save of the match for what felt like the dozenth time.
"Well, I mean, I'd already let in that one of Davies's, so I wasn't feeling all that confident, but I dunno, when Bradley came towards me, just out of nowhere, I thought — you can do this! And I had about a second to decide which way to fly, you know, because he looked like he was aiming for the right goalhoop — my right, obviously, his left — but I had a funny feeling that he was feinting, and so I took the chance and flew left — his right, I mean — and — well — you saw what happened," he concluded modestly, sweeping his hair back quite unnecessarily so that it looked interestingly windswept and glancing around to see whether the people nearest to them — a bunch of gossiping third-year Hufflepuffs — had heard him. "And then, when Chambers came at me about five minutes later — What?" Ron asked, having stopped mid-sentence at the look on Harry's face. "Why are you grinning?"
"I'm not," said Harry quickly, and looked down at his Transfiguration notes, attempting to straighten his face. "I'm just glad we won, that's all."
"Thanks to me, obviously," Ascella beamed, resting on the palms of her hands, legs sprawled out in front of her. "I mean, I like Cho, but come on! The Snitch was right there, how couldn't she see it?"
