The best Christmas gift Ron Weasley had ever found under the tree was his very own wizarding chess set. He was always jealous, watching the big kids play the game with the talking, moving men that hit each other. And they always seem to want to exclude him. It took several temper tantrums and threats of telling mum in order to get them to teach him, but by the age of seven, he could beat any one of his brothers, and his dad.

That Christmas when he opened up his very own chess set, he was happier than any seven year old in all of Britain. It didn't matter that it was actually his grandfather's old set, or that the black king was missing his crown, and the white bishop was actually a black one charmed to look white, or that the pieces kept confusing him with his Granddad. It was his very own.

But what he currently held in his hands was loads better than that. This made his chess set look like a four foot essay for Snape on the proper brewing of Wolfsbane Potion.

"I take it you're excited son?" asked Arthur Weasley.

Excited was an understatement. Tickets to the Quidditch World Cup were quite possibly the best thing ever. It took Ron a moment to pull his jaw back up and find the words to describe it.

"This... wow Dad! This is fantastic! I can't believe you got them! It's amazing! We'll get to see Viktor Krum, Dad!"

Arthur smiled as his son went on. Evidently, once Ron had found his voice, it was rather hard to get him to stop gushing over the ticket in his hand.

"You should have seen him against Madagascar. He's the most amazing natural flier I've ever seen. Wow... just... wow Dad...thanks!"

"You sure you're not thanking me prematurely? I haven't told you all of the news just yet."

Oh boy, thought Ron. Here it comesere's where it would come. He knew this was too good to be true. Now would come the conditions. He'd have to degnome the garden six times a day and do the dishes after every meal for the rest of the summer. And he'd have to spend at least three hours a day revising so he'd be ready for the new term. Still though, it'd probably be worth it just to go to the World Cup. That was worth almost anything.

"In addition to the tickets for everyone in the family, we have two extras. So, I thought that you and Ginny might want to each invite a friend. Your mum's even offered to let them stay for the rest of the summer. She evidently doesn't indulge her maternal instincts enough on just the seven of you. She needs more children to smother with affection and cooking," said Arthur mildly, although his eyes were twinkling with mischief behind his glasses.

Ron's voice abruptly left him again, as did control over his jaw. Arthur gave his shell-shocked son a clap on the shoulder. Molly would probably insist on Ron minding his manners and saying thank you, but Arthur knew from the look on Ron's face that he was plenty grateful. The hand did seem to rouse Ron out of his gobsmacked state. He reckoned he should probably say something, like "thank you" maybe. Mum was always on his case about "minding his manners" and such. But such sophisticated thoughts were beyond him at this moment. It took a clap on the shoulder from his dad to rouse him from his gobsmacked state.

"I reckon I should go owl Harry..."

This statement was punctuated by something hitting Ron in the back of the head. He turned just in time to see his sister deftly catch the bouncing Quaffle.

"You always were a bit slow. I already beat you to it," she said with a smirk as she headed up the stairs.

"Sorry son, she did beat you to it. I told her this morning while you were having your daily lie in. She seemed rather excited. I haven't seen her this happy in a long time."

Ron winced as he rubbed the back of his head. Ordinarily, this would have been the perfect chance to take the mickey out of her for her silly crush on his best mate, but his dad was right. Ginny had seemed a lot happier lately. The prospect of Harry staying for the summer and going to the World Cup had made her happier than he'd seen her in a long time. Well, at least since her first year. But no, no thinking about that right now. Right now, all he wanted to think about was Quidditch. Ron himself still hadn't tried out for the Gryffindor House team, but he was going to seriously consider trying out this year. Oliver Wood had just left school the previous term, and the Keeper position would be open. He had only ever played with his brothers, but even that had to be better than nothing. After all, how many other Keepers had played games in their garden with four Gryffindor House players? Maybe if he went to the World Cup he could meet a professional talent scout who could see he had what it took and would be recruited to a professional team, and some day, he could be the youngest Keeper to play for England...well, probably not, but it was fun to think about.

Besides, there would be plenty of chances to play Quidditch this summer. There would be enough for three a side games. Bill and Charlie would be back, and so would Harry... and someone else. Since Harry would already be spending the summer, Ron would be able to invite anyone else he liked. He thought about his dorm mates, but he knew most of them would probably be going on their own anyway. Besides, he didn't really care too much about hanging out with them over the summer. He didn't really hang out with them all that much during the school year. At Hogwarts, he always hung out with Harry...and Hermione. Hermione! Hermione?

Things were better between them. The fights over the Firebolt and Scabbers were both long since forgotten. But Ron still felt guilty for being a little hard on her last year (okay, maybe a lot). He felt like he owed her. He wasn't sure why, he'd blown up at loads of people over the years, the twins in particular, but he had never felt bad about it. But when Hermione had grabbed him and cried on his shoulder, he had felt ridiculously guilty. He felt bad about yelling at her and calling her names, but not quite bad enough to explain how he had felt when she was crying on his shoulder. He knew he had never quite done enough research to help Buckbeak, and he had been stuck in the Hospital Wing when she and Harry had rescued Sirius and had gone after all those dementors. He felt useless, as if he had let them down, let her down. She...they shouldn't have had to do all that; he should have been the one to help Harry. Especially after how awful I was to her.

Maybe he could give her the ticket. It would be a nice thing to do. Although, it was Quidditch, and Hermione didn't care much for "silly boys and their silly games," probably because she was a girl.LE1 RN2 Girls could be weird about this kind of stuff, and Ron could never understand it. Still, she might like to see all the wizards and witches who would be coming from all over the world to see the finals. After all, she liked to go on and on about culture and history and all that rubbish whenever he asked her for help in Muggle Studies and History of Magic. It was amazing how long she could go on when all he asked was "what does this mean are we supposed to write for our essay?" Mental, that one.LE3 RN4

Ultimately, Ron decided that it would be a good idea to give Hermione the ticket. It would PROBABLY be a nice thing to do, and hopefully she wouldn't think he was just dragging her along. Maybe it would make her happy. If she was happy, she would probably be less likely to cry on his shoulder again.

"Thanks again Dad. I've got an owl to write."