A/N: Glad you guys are enjoying the story so far. Five down, five to go!

Five: Ronald Weasley

No good deed goes unpunished.

Well. There I was in this terribly unfashionable part of town, caught out in the rain without an umbrella or the means to pull out my wand and use it, when I get bloody punched in the face!

"You pervert!"

Weasley had apparently just been to see Potter, in an unsuccessful attempt to explain to the latter that it was time he admitted certain truths and that no one would love him any less, even if he did enjoy playing hide the broomstick.

I think Weasley was expecting me to go down like Neville Longbottom after half a glass of beer. He did catch me unawares, I have to admit. As it was, my head merely whipped to the side before I righted myself and stared incredulously at the man I was now going to have to murder.

We were standing in front of the Muggle motel where Potter had exiled himself, and there was a growing crowd of spectators.

"Bastard!" he screeched, pulling his freckled fist back to swing at me again.

This time, I sidestepped him, watched his fist zing past my head and then I happily tripped him with my foot. He fell back onto the pavement, anger and embarrassment not doing anything to improve his already dismal communication skills.

"You son of a-! I'll bloody kick your-! Arrgh! Get your foot off me you git, I'm going to kill you!"

"With what, your fashion sense?" said I, staring down at him in a contemplative manner. "Granted, a denim shirt paired with jeans ought to be illegal for anyone who doesn't ride horses for a living, but it's not exactly lethal to behold."

"Get off!"

I took my foot off his chest and before one of his three brain cells could react, I took his hand and hauled him up to eye-level once more

"What's your beef with me, Weasel?" I demanded.

"This is about Harry and you know it, you arsehole!"

I smirked, even though I was tired of being insulted. "I see. So this is a case of you preferring Potter to be the recipient of your, um, beef? Do I have it right? Does Granger know you enjoy barbecuing with your male friends?"

He went red. Redder than usual, I mean. "I'm not...it's not like that. I just care about Harry's happiness. We all do."

I felt like slapping my forehead. I slapped his instead. He growled and lunged at me. "That's why I'm here, half-wit," I hissed, ducking under another fist. "Your deranged girlfriend barged into my house this morning and blackmailed me into counselling Potter."

He gaped. It was The Fish, ala Weasley. "She did?"

I realise then that he didn't know about Granger's attempted sexual assault threat. I decided not to give him a reason to give me a reason to flatten him a second time. Plus, I was soaked to the skin and really wanted to get out of the rain.

"Look, I don't care what Harry does in his private life," Weasley muttered.

"Bollocks," I told him. "Of course you care. He's your best friend and he happens to be dating your sister."

Weasley looked pained now. "Ginny will understand. These sorts of things cannot be...helped."

I didn't like the way he said 'these sorts of things', but I had grudging admiration for his obvious concern for Potter's wellbeing. Also, I happened to know that Percy Weasley was the biggest queen to never wear a tiara and that his family seemed ok with it so far.

"So you're here to talk to him. Just talk?" He narrowed his eyes at me. I wondered if he thought 'talk' was code for holding Potter down and having my deviant way with him.

God. What did he think I was there to do? Yes, Harry was passably attractive, but there were so many things I hated about him! Like...well I could easily count ten things, right off the top of my head! His eyes, his stupid hair, his friends! Blah!

I realised Weasley was still waiting for an answer. He was looking at me a little oddly. I cleared my throat and summoned some glacial intensity. "Yes, Weasley. I'm just going to talk to him. And I realise I may have to draw diagrams at some point, but I trust Potter will catch up eventually."

"You're such a wanker."

"So are you. Any fully functioning man who denies it is a sodding liar."

"I really don't know what Harry sees in you," he said, accusingly.

I winked at him before I started towards the motel entrance. "I do. Unlike Potter, I have lots of mirrors at home."