Rating: PG

Summary: Ron was sick and tired of them dancing around.  He was going to end it by any means necessary.  Poor Harry and Hermione.

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. That is a good thing. I would do very bad things to them indeed if I owned them. Heh. J.K.Rowling owns them and she's the one making money off them.

Author's Note: This is a fluff piece. It's fluff, fluff, fluff! If that's not your thing, please move on. Any flames will be used to make s'mores.  Nacey, thanks for looking this thing over and beta-ing it.  You're completely awesome in so many different ways.  I'm anxiously awaiting updates on your fics.  Thanks to everyone else who saw this on my journal and made lovely supporting comments.  More chapters should be coming, uh, sometime. 


Ron was irritated.

No, scratch that.  Ron was supremely irritated.  They were doing it again.  The coy glances.  The sighing.  It was enough to drive a man to drink.  Or at least plunge a fork into his eyes and ears.

Oh, to be sure, Harry and Hermione were completely unconscious of their behavior.  Their respective levels of denial were so high as to boggle the mind.  No, of course I don't like Hermione like that.  She's one of my best friends.  She's like a sister.  No, I'm not in love with Harry.  Honestly, why would you think that?  It's never even come up in my mind.

Liable to drive a man to drink, it was.

And so it would continue.  Harry would have little "talks" with every guy who showed the slightest amount of interest in Hermione.  He would twirl his wand and talk about his battles with Voldemort's minions and oh yes, you remember how I defeated Voldemort when I was two?  Oh, you've become very busy, of course.  I'll tell Hermione you can't make it.

She was like a sister after all.

Hermione was no better.  Harry had no shortage of admirers, but the most persistent would get a personal meeting with Hermione.  A very calm, very rational meeting wherein Hermione would very calmly and very rationally lay out every threat that Harry had faced (only those that they were allowed to talk about, of course), and could you please explain, logically, point by point, how you would have dealt with said situation?  What's that?  Oh, you're not feeling well.  Perhaps you should see Madame Pomfrey then.  Yes, of course I'll tell Harry you're not available.

He was her best friend after all.

But Ron was having none of it.  There comes a time in every man's life where he must stand up for himself, for his principles, for his sanity.  This was that moment. 

It would take time.  It would take finesse.  It would take teamwork.  It would take an insane amount of luck.  But it would be done.  Ron would make sure of that.

A sigh.

A glance.

A considering look at a fork.

Where could a man get a drink around here?