It's a beautiful day in London. Harry, Ginny, and Hermione have just returned from a trip to Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, an excursion that Ron has opted out of because of a stomach virus. The three enter the Burrow and upon entry the discover Ron lying on the couch with Hermione's laptop propped up on his stomach. He looks like he's been this way for hours.

Hermione: Ronald Bilius Weasley! What are you doing?

Ron looks up, startled.

Ron: N-nothing, nothing at all. What are you lot doing back so early?

Hermione: So early? It's nearly dinner time. We've been gone all afternoon. And what in the name of Merlin were you doing with my portable computer?

Ron turns a dangerous shade of red.

Ron: I-I t-told you, n-nothing! I was bored. Just seeing if I could figure out how to work this blasted thing, that's all. Damndest piece of rubbish I've ever laid eyes on.

Usually such an insult would have Hermione in a fury, but this time she smiles dangerously, a special gleam in her eye.

Hermione: *stage whisper* He's been reading fanfiction.

Ron gives an undignified and indignant snort.

Ron: I have not!

Hermione: Then you won't mind if I take a quick peek at my computer, will you . . . ?

Ron snatches the computer away just in time and gives Hermione a glare that says it all.

Harry and Ginny, at this point, are holding back laughter.

Ginny: Pay up, Harry.

Harry reluctantly fishes in his pockets and hands her a galleon. Hermione watches with raised eyebrows. Harry shrugs sheepishly.

Harry: She bet me that Ron would be reading fanfiction in less than a week. I thought it'd take longer for him to succumb.

Ron: OY! I am not read—

The others give him looks. He immediately shuts up.

Hermione: Another fanfic addict is born.

Ginny sighs.

Ginny: Ah, yes. I remember the days when I had some semblance a life . . .

Harry. . . when I got more than four hours of sleep a night because I wasn't up late trying to finish that one nagging story that's over four hundred thousand words long . . .

Hermione: Back in the days when I had time for sex . . .

Harry and Ginny look appalled, Harry much more so than Ginny.

Ginny: Tsk, tsk, Hermione. We talked about this. Just because you tell me your secrets doesn't mean you should blurt them out in front of my boyfriend who just happens to be your boyfriend's best mate.

Hermione shrugs.

Hermione: We're all mature adults. Now that we're all sexually active, we should be able to discuss it with each other. I mean, if everyone's agreeable.

By the way Harry is choking and bright strawberry red, he looks as if he is definitely not ready to discuss his sex life in a group setting.

Harry: Ginny! You told her?

Ginny: Well, of course. I tell Hermione everything. We're girls. Didn't you and Ron tell each other when you first had sex?

Harry: NO! Because you're his sister, Ginny! And Hermione's my best mate! I don't want to know!

Hermione: *primly* Well, you may just have to get used to the idea, Harry. And so will Ronald. Won't you, Ron?

She turns around, but during the conversation, Ron has opened the laptop again and is staring as a man hypnotized at the glowing screen. The only movement on his end is a click every so often as he scrolls down the page.

The others turn too. Ginny giggles again, and Harry sighs. Hermione sighs as well.

Hermione: There will be no dealing with him after this. He's going to be one of those addicts who will live in front of the computer for a month until the initial obsession has worn off a little. I just hope I can keep him from messaging the poor authors relentlessly when their stories aren't completed. Ronald!

No response from the redhead on the sofa.

Hermione gets a glint in her eye.

Hermione: Watch this.

She stalks over to the sofa.

Hermione: Ron, tomorrow I'm going to the moon with Dolores Umbridge.

No response.

Hermione: If you shut the computer this instant, I'll let you throw your dirty clothes wherever you want for a week.

Still no response.

Hermione: Look, Ron! A huge chocolate cake!

He doesn't even blink.

Hermione: I'm going to strip all my clothes off and dance, Ron.

Ginny makes a nauseated sound; Harry doubles over in laughter. Ron is unresponsive.

Hermione creeps closer.

Hermione: Ron, I'm really horny.

She strokes his thigh. Harry shakes his head and holds his stomach. Ginny is turning green.

Hermione: Ron, if you put away the computer, I'll have sex with you. Any position you want.

Ginny claps her hands over her ears and hums "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" in a frantic, off key voice.

Hermione turns back to the two.

Hermione: See? Nothing.

She turns back to Ron and whacks his head.

Ron: Oy! What the hell was that for?

Hermione smiles smugly.

Hermione: Proving a point, that's all.

Immediately, Ron returns to the computer. Hermione shrugs.

Hermione: I guess I might as well head back into town to finish up my shopping. Ron will be occupied for quite a while, by my guess. Want to come with me, Gin—wait, where's Ginny?

Harry points; Ginny is curled up in a little ball in the corner, rocking back and forth, still humming frantically, her eyes shut tightly.

Harry: I think she may be catatonic after that uncalled for demonstration.

Ron: *suddenly* NOOOOOO!

He lifts the laptop high over his head and throws it at the opposite wall. This seems to be what is needed to break Ginny's self-imposed catatonic state. Harry and Ginny stare at Ron, mouths gaping open. Hermione, on the other hand, walks calmly to the spot where the laptop lies, picks it up, and hands it back to Ron.

Hermione: I put a number of indestructible charms on my computer after Ron tried to Avada Kedavra it after our first little fanfiction discussion. Now, Ronald. What happened?

Ron: *tremulously* Harry's dead.

Hermione: *rolling her eyes* Harry is most certainly not dead, Ronald. He's right here.

Ron ignores her.

Ron: Voldemort . . . that bastard locked Harry up in Azkaban and tortured him a hundred different ways for about five years before Harry finally committed suicide—but only after he'd been brainwashed into thinking it was the only way to save the Wizarding World.

Harry: Well, if you think about it—

Hermione: *kindly* Shut up, Harry.

She turns back to Ron, but he tosses the laptop aside.

Ron: I hate this rubbish! I don't know why you lot read this stuff!

Ginny: Because it's entertaining, Ron! It's amusing, that's all.

Ron: But it's total bunk! Harry always has a twin, or some long-lost sibling or relative. Hermione is ALWAYS a Pureblood. Hermione and me have ALWAYS just gotten out of a bad relationship and I'm always at fault and considered the largest git at Hogwarts, while Draco Malfoy is the bloody knight in shining armour. And Snape's so bloody cheerful! Like he had all the students in Flickwick's class practice Cheering Charms on him or something.

Ron pauses to take a long breath, his face an alarming Gryffindor scarlet.

Ron: And you, Harry, you're always so bloody angsty! Mate, they think you're suicidal!

Harry prepares to bring up his defeat of Voldemort.

Harry: Well, technically . . .

Ginny smacks his arm.

Ginny: That was just one time, dear. And no, it doesn't mean you're suicidal.

Ron isn't finished. In fact, he looks as if he's just gotten started.

Ron: Those little buggers who write this shite get everyone's class schedules mixed up, Gryffindors are ALWAYS playing Slytherin, the Room of Requirement is used for EVERYTHING, including every time Draco Malfoy wants to shag half the girls in school, there's always dozens of balls each year, all the students wear Muggle clothes ALL the time—

Hermione: Well, technically Draco Malfoy probably did shag some girls in there, and we do wear Muggle clothing most of the time—

Ron: Hermione and Ginny always fall in love with Blaise Zabini and Draco Malfoy, the Hogwarts Express is always attacked by Death Eaters, the summer after Sirius's death Harry spent wallowing in depression and becoming all dark and twisted inside, and of course the only one who can pull him out of the pit of despair is Ginny or Hermione or perhaps some ditzy new character—most likely French or American and most definitely an exchange student—and ALWAYS a Mary-Sue.

Hermione looks amazed.

Hermione: Very impressive, Ron! You know what a Mary-Sue is!

Ron scowls.

Ron: I wish I didn't, though…but I think I've got all the lingo down, except for one. What on earth is quantum physics?

Harry, Ginny, and Hermione look at each other.

Harry: Go ahead, Hermione. I'm not touching this one.

Hermione: Well, it's a way that some Muggles use to explain time travel. Complete rubbish, though. It's like asking someone to write a scientific equation that explains magic. It simply can't be done. Although some of the theories—

Harry and Ginny decide to end this lecture before it's too late to stop their ingenious but long-winded friend.

Ginny: So, Ron, I assume your 'stomach virus' was just a ruse to stay home and read fanfiction . . .

Ron: I really did feel sick! Do, I mean.

Ginny: . . . but you look as if the Cannons had just lost . . . again. What's eating you up?

Ron: Harry's dead.

Hermione rolls her eyes, but nevertheless pats his shoulder in condolence.

Hermione: Oh, Ron.

Ginny: Just go read something else for a while. You'll feel better after something lighthearted.

Hermione: Besides, I've read that story you're on and it's got a decent ending.

Harry: I don't die?

Hermione: Well, technically you do, but then you go to 'heaven' and end up reincarnated as a Norse god.

Harry looks very pleased with himself. Ginny whacks him.

Ginny: Hermione! Don't go filling his head with nonsense like that! He's already an egotistical git.

Harry: Hey!

Hermione: In the meantime, though, Ron, don't you have anything else you could read?

Ron: Well, I did start this one up, though it's about our kids. Harry's son becomes best friends with Draco Malfoy's son at Hogwarts and they solve mysteries and cause trouble just like we did when we were at school.

Harry: Wait . . . my son . . . and Draco Malfoy's kid? Never!

Hermione laughs.

Hermione: Just wait until you hear about who Scorpius Malfoy was interested in . . . Rose Weasley!

Ron: Yeah, I wasn't too pleased about that part, but you gotta admit, reading about Albus was like a flashback of an eleven-year-old Harry, an eleven-year-old hothead with a passion for cursing Slytherins and a deep hatred of his Potions teacher.

Harry hasn't been listening to the last bit.

Harry: Hang on there. Did you just refer to my future son as Albus?

Ron and Hermione look at each other. They share a mutual smirk.

Hermione: Oh, yes, Harry, and you seem to have gotten a bit extravagant with your baby names . . .

Ron: Poor bloke never had a chance, seeing that his name was . . .

Together: Albus Severus Potter!

Ginny: Harry, you know I love you, and I respect the dead just as much as you do, but if you ever, ever try to name a future son of mine Albus Severus, this relationship is over.

Harry tries to recover.

Harry: Come on, that Malfoy kid had it a hundred times worse. At least Albus can be shortened. There's no nickname for Scorpius!

The others, however, refuse to allow Harry to get off that easily.

Harry: You lot know I would never name a child that.

Ginny's eyes are narrowed suspiciously.

Hermione: Just for the record, Ron, if Harry ever names his kid Albus Severus, I'll let you get a driver's license.

Ron gets a gleam in his eye.

Ron: And for the record, Hermione, if Harry ever names his kid Albus Severus, I'll read Hogwarts, A History.

Suddenly both look at Harry. Harry has the look of a hunted animal.

Harry: *pleadingly* Ginny?

Ginny: Not going to help you here, my love. You've heard my conditions.

Harry's shoulders fall.

Hermione looks him over almost apologetically, but she and Ron then have what seems to be an entire conversation in glances. At last Ginny sighs.

Ginny: We can argue this point another day. Ron, I was going to make a cake earlier, but I decided not to because you were sick . . .

Ron appears to instantly forget about the prospect of a driver lice thingy.

Ron: But I'm not sick! You can still make it, I don't mind.

Ginny tries to look stern, but gives up. She seizes Harry's hand.

Ginny: Come on, Harry. You can stand in the corner and not touch anything.

They exit quickly, Harry looking relieved.

Ron and Hermione sit on the sofa for a bit.

Ron: Think we can get Harry to name his kid Albus?

Hermione: Given enough time and the taking into account the proper methods of persuasion . . .

They look at each other.

Hermione: Absolutely.

Ron: Think Ginny will dump him?

Hermione: Not a chance. But Harry might have to do quite a lot to make it up to her.

Hermione wiggles her eyebrows and grins at him. The "if you know what I mean" is blatant.

Ron: Oh, no, that's just cruel, Hermione, you know I don't want to think about that! She's my sister, for the love of Merlin . . .

Hermione leans over to plant a kiss on his neck, then waits for his reaction.

Ron: Not a chance, not after you've just brought up my sister's sex life.

He shudders.

Hermione: That's too bad, because I read this one fanfiction last week that I thought was very interesting, about you and me getting locked in a broom closet. I was thinking that maybe you and I could . . .

She leans over and whispers something very interesting in Ron's ear. Ron takes a look around, then jumps to his feet and gestures toward the door.

Hermione: The cake?

Ron: Couldn't care less. Is your flat free?

They grin at each other and scurry to the door.

Ron: Maybe fanfiction can be useful . . .