"Oi, you tosser! Try and not take my bloody hand off next time, yeah?" Ron grinned as he hurled the Quaffle back towards the Chasers to the returned chorus of many returned jeers. "Oh yeah? And who's going to stop the Quaffle if the hands are gone, eh?"
Ron was just about to loop the nearest one when he caught sight of a dark head making its way along the stands below and to his right. It took a second to make out Hermione's shape and less than that for him to go into a dive and head straight for her. Hermione wouldn't show up here unless it was vital, or something had happened.
"What is it?" The question was out before he was even off his broomstick. "Leila? Harry? You? What's wrong?" He reached out and cupped her face, looking closely into her reddened eyes. "You've been crying."