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"You up for a bit of Quidditch?" Harry asked. He took an apple from the bowl on the counter and took a big bite.
"Nah," Ron said. "Mum asked me to stop by. You know how she is."
Harry nodded in understanding. "Maybe next Saturday."
"Yeah." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Maybe."
~*~
Ron Apparated to Canary Wharf and walked briskly toward the ice rink. He stopped for a drink in the Grandstand bar then sat down, the rink visible through the glass.
At precisely three o'clock, Gabrielle Delacour took the ice and, for the next hour, Ron watched.