Ron SortsThings Out - H/G - PG-13
Title: Ron Sorts Things Out
Author: shocfix
Pairing: Harry/Ginny
Rating: PG-13
Word Count : 1441

For my beloved sikrit twin magicofisis, who has had a crap day.

I hope a ficlet helps, because I can’t be there to thwap people with fish and feed you Bourbons dipped in Bailey’s.

Bloody hell, that sounds delicious!


Ron Sorts Things Out
****
Of course Hermione wanted to talk to him about it, but I wouldn’t let her.

Harry thought he’d done the right thing; we were stuck at the Dursley’s for another week; Ginny was at home.

He didn’t need to justify himself to me.

Yet.

I fully intended to do something about it when we got to the Burrow, but Harry didn’t need to know that.

So, he followed me around like a puppy, avoiding Hermione’s sympathetic gaze.

And I let him, avoiding Hermione’s irritated glare.

I fully intended to do something about it when we got to the Burrow, but Hermione didn’t need to know that.

So, Harry had the last of his ‘protection’ from his aunt and moved all his stuff to Grimmauld Place.

Hermione took the opportunity to go home for a few days. There had been no way she’d have left us alone at the Dursleys’ and she wrung her hands and dithered about leaving us at Grimmauld Place, with all the memories of Sirius.

But this was the last chance to see her parents and explain what we were doing, and she finally decided to go.

She hugged Harry, promising to see him at the wedding and hugged me, promising to hex me if I didn’t get him to talk about Ginny.

She may be brilliant, my Hermione.

Well, she’s not my Hermione, yet, but she’ll fall at my feet when she sees me sort Harry and Ginny out.

She may be brilliant, but she doesn’t always know how to handle our Harry.

There was no point in working on him, yet.

Not without Ginny there for him to drool over.

I like to think I was doing my bit to keep his mind on her, anyway, what with keeping the red hair and freckles in front of him twenty-four hours a day.

Short of growing breasts and snogging him, I could do no more for the time being.

So, we played chess.

Harry taught me Muggle cookery, and I taught him Magical – though he couldn’t practise, being underage still.

We read through a stack of books from the Black library that Hermione had thought looked promising.

And we didn’t talk about girls.

Not healthy for two teenage boys, I know, but we’d got out of the habit, what with the whole Lavender thing, and the whole not wanting to know what he was doing with my sister thing, and the whole trying to fix things with Hermione thing.

And, though there was no one else in the house, we still shared our old room, so I assume he, well, enjoyed himself in the showers as often as I did.

We were being cowardly, I know, hiding there.

Harry from Ginny; me from the wedding.

From my mum being insane, from Fleur being perfect.

And Ginny may have left school full of acceptance and understanding of Harry’s actions, but she’d be baying for our blood by the time the wedding arrived – for leaving her there, alone, having to deal with everyone.

Being trapped with Fleur and Mum was a much worse fate than facing Death Eaters, and I knew she wouldn’t welcome us with open arms.

Harry’s birthday came and we Flooed to Fred and George’s so we could take our Apparition tests at the Ministry and be fitted for our robes for the wedding at Madam Malkin’s.

If I say so myself, we looked pretty good; Ginny wouldn’t be able to keep her hands off him, and I had high hopes that Hermione would finally pull her finger out and tell me how she felt about me.

So, the day before the wedding, we packed our bags and Apparated home.

Mum descended on us, squawking, Fleur bestowing kisses, and Ginny glaring daggers.

She dragged us up to my room and slammed the door.

“You selfish bastards,” she hissed. “D’you know what I’ve been through, the past few weeks?”

“Did you have to go and stay with your abusive family, just to get the last of your dead mother’s protection?” I asked, throwing myself onto my bed and sighing with pleasure.

Ginny glared at me. “Are you totally insane?” she asked, her eyes snapping.

“So, maybe you had to stay in the house where your beloved dead godfather was so unhappy?” I suggested.

She stood over me, with her fists clenched and her hair crackling with magic. Harry was gazing at her like a drowning man at a rope that was dangling just out of reach.

“What the hell are you doing, Ron?” she demanded crossly, before looking at him like a, well, a bloody protective and territorial thing. A mother tiger, with her cub, although without any incestuous overtones.

I shrugged. “So, I suppose you had fittings for your bridesmaid’s dress, then,” I said. “Spending half the day in your underwear, as gauzy material was draped round your body.”

Harry sat down abruptly and Ginny narrowed her eyes at me.

“Stop changing the subject,” she snapped.

“I’m not,” I said innocently. “You had a horrid few weeks, I know.”

She looked confused, which was worth it, in itself, but Harry looked like he could eat her alive, so I hauled myself to my feet and, muttering something about seeing if Mum needed me to do anything, closed the door behind me.

Downstairs, Hermione had arrived and was being force-fed samples of wedding food.

I leant over her shoulder and pinched a triangle of toast with some squishy meat paste on it.

“There you are,” she said, smacking my hand. “And where is Harry?”

“In my room,” I said, wrapping my arms round her in a hug.

“You can’t just leave him to mope,” she said firmly. “He has to face her.”

“Missed you,” I murmured into her hair.

“What has got into you?” she asked, turning to look up at me.

I shrugged and grinned, winningly, but she tutted and took my hand and dragged me up the stairs.

“I knew I shouldn’t have left the two of you alone,” she muttered. “You let him wallow in it at Grimmauld Place, and he’s come here and shut himself away and it’s not healthy and –“

She reached my room and pushed the door open.

Harry was lying flat on my bed, with Ginny straddling his waist, and his hands cupping her arse.

They were both moaning so loudly as they kissed, that they didn’t hear us close the door again.

“How did that happen?” Hermione asked, looking up at me with wide eyes and flushed cheeks.

“I sorted things out,” I smirked.

“You did that?” she demanded.

“Snogged Harry?” I asked.

“Got them back together!”

“Yup,” I said truthfully. “You just have to know how to handle him.”

“Oh, Ron!” she breathed, throwing her arms round my neck. “You’re wonderful.”

She hugged me and we crept back down the stairs.

The rest of the day was stressful and full of wedding crap, but Harry and Ginny were still AWOL and Hermione was hanging on my every word, and life was pretty good.

They appeared for dinner, looking pretty debauched, but no one commented, and Mum packed us all off to bed, shortly afterwards.

Harry stripped down to boxers and lay on his camp bed.

I stripped, too, and eyed my own bed, nervously.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“My bed isn’t… squelchy, is it?” I demanded pitifully.

“No!” Harry said indignantly. “We didn’t do anything that… squelched.”

“Right. Good,” I said, sitting down.

“Look, Ron,” he said earnestly. “Thanks.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, shrugging.

“We worked out we’d been manipulated,” he said.

“Ah, well,” I said. “I’m a lot cleverer than Hermione realises.”

“And, the thing is,” he said, squirming slightly. “I need to ask a favour.”

“Name it,” I said generously.

“You won’t like it,” he warned. “But there’s no one else I can ask.”

“’Course,” I said happily.

“Can you teach me the Contraceptus Charm?”

“What?” I squealed.

“’Snot my fault my parents couldn’t teach me,” he said, backing away. “They died to protect me.”

“Harry!”

“And my beloved godfather,” he said. “I’d have been able to ask him, but he died, too.”

“Bastard!”

“And I couldn’t ask my abusive family, because they’re abusive Muggles, anyway.”

“Utter bastard!”

“And I’m not asking your dad.”

I blinked at him.

“You’re my best mate,” he said seriously. “You’ve always taught me about the Wizarding World. Who else could I ask?”

I sighed.

“Bastard,” I said affectionately. “Come on, then.”

He sniggered.

“Harry?”

He fell off the bed, laughing.

“Did Ginny put you up to this?” I demanded.

He hiccupped and nodded.

“Bastard.”