"No! Don't toss that!" Ron lunged for the shirt that Hermione had been trying to stuff into a bulging garbage bag. They were at the Burrow, cleaning out everything they'd accumulated during their year on the run. Hermione, naturally, had already emptied her beaded handbag and reorganized all her books. Ron and Harry, however, had been avoiding this task for several weeks now, and Hermione had finally dragged Ron upstairs to clean out his room.
"Why do you want this?" She asked disdainfully, waving the shirt in the air out of his reach. "It's got holes in it and some bloodstains that Tergeo never managed to take out." She held the shirt away from her, wrinkling her nose.
"I dunno," Ron mumbled defensively. "Someone...might...want it. One day." When she looked at him disbelievingly, he added, "In the future."
"I understood what you said," Hermione said, exasperated. "What I don't understand is why you were saying it. Who is going to want this ratty old thing?"
"Dunno," Ron repeated sheepishly. "But, well, we are war heroes, and I thought maybe someone might buy it from me."
Hermione's laughter echoed around the room. "And do what with it? Honestly, Ron, they're hardly going to make a museum about us. No one is going to pay even a Knut to see your old clothes and - and ride your broomstick."
Ron grinned and stepped towards Hermione. "Hm, well, I'll let you 'ride my broomstick' for free, Hermione," he said as he reached for her. Laughing again, Hermione dodged his hands and leapt behind a chair, circling as he approached her.
"Ronald! We're in your parents' house! Anyone could walk in and see us!" She was giggling uncontrollably as the familiar glint in Ron's eye alerted her to his sudden jump over the chair. Wrapping his hands around her upper arms, Ron tugged her closer even as she pretended to fight to get away from him. His lips were just about to meet hers when Harry entered the room.
"This is getting really old, you two," he muttered good-naturedly, not perturbed in the slightest to see his friends entwined. Hermione's cheeks flushed and she pulled away from Ron, moving back to the pile of clothing she had been sorting earlier.
"At least you're not constantly stumbling across your best mate snogging your sister," Ron grumbled. Harry just grinned.
"I would say I'm sorry...but I'm not." Harry ducked when Ron reached out to punch him on the shoulder. "Are you still cleaning?" He eyed the bags piled at Hermione's feet.
"Yes, it's been rather slow going," Hermione said, looking pointedly at Ron. "Someone is reluctant to part with any of his things - even his disgusting old clothes."
Ron shrugged. "I told you - someone will want that," he said. "There are plenty of nuts out there who would jump at the chance to see and touch our things. Don't you think so, Harry?" Ron looked to Harry for support.
"I'm sure Harry agrees with me that no one in their right mind would want to pay money to look at your shirt." Hermione glared at Harry, daring him to refute her.
"Um, yeah, maybe," Harry said uncertainly. "Could be."
Hermione snorted at Harry's lack of definitive answer before turning her attention back to the pile of Ron's things on the bed. Ron discreetly slipped the shirt in question out of a garbage bag and stuffed it into his closet with the rest of the items he was trying to keep.
"Think about it, Hermione!" Ron said as he sprawled across the camp bed that had always been Harry's when he was visiting. He swept his arms out, gesturing at the invisible display of his mind's eye. "All our adoring fans could come and see things up close. You know – your handbag, Hufflepuff's cup, we could even get some extra basilisk fangs-"
"I am not returning to the Chamber of Secrets for the rest of my life," Hermione stated emphatically. Harry nodded in agreement.
"Fine, no fangs then. But all the Horcruxes could go on display!" Ron sat up in his excitement. "All the Horcruxes, and the Deluminator – well, maybe not that, I'm rather fond of it – but it could be the entire story of our year hunting Horcruxes! People would come to that, Hermione!"
"Why stop there?" she asked sarcastically. "Why not the story of our whole lives from the time we were eleven and fighting that troll?"
Harry laughed, but Ron's eyes widened. "You're brilliant, Hermione!" he said, leaping up and throwing his arms around her. "It can be a tribute to the Golden Trio-"
"Please tell me we're not calling ourselves that now," Harry groaned. "I hate it when people say that."
"You're both a bunch of grindylows, do you know that?" Ron grumbled, his enthusiasm not abating in the slightest as he released Hermione. "I'll just have to do it myself, and I'll keep all the profits, too."
"Good for you, Ron," Hermione said, her tone patronizing. "Let us know how that works out, will you?"
She and Harry shared a look of loving bewilderment. Ron was always full of money-making ideas, but this one really took the cake.
"We'll need an exhibition space, of course, and permission from the Ministry to display some of that stuff – Harry, you can talk to Kingsley, he won't tell you no – and some way to...to...bloody hell!"
Ron's exclamation had Harry jumping out of his seat and brandishing his wand at the door while Hermione whipped around and shouted "Protego!" before anyone knew what was going on.
Realizing there was no imminent threat, Harry lowered his wand, saying, "Son of a bludger, Ron, don't do that!"
"Sorry mate," Ron said, his eyes gazing somewhere far away. "I just realized...what if this whole thing was an interactive tour? You could walk down Diagon Alley, sit in the Great Hall, ride in Dad's old Ford Anglia – I mean, we could really do this up big! It would be the whole experience!"
"Does he have lingering spell damage we're not aware of?" Harry whispered to Hermione. They both scrutinized Ron, who merely rolled his eyes at them.
"I don't think so," she whispered back. "Still, maybe we ought to ask Molly-"
"I'm fine," Ron snapped, "and, interesting fact: I can hear you."
There was a long moment of silence before Hermione laughed, and the boys soon joined in.
"I'm sorry, Ron, it's just that this is so ridiculous, even for you!" She moved forward to wrap her arms around her boyfriend. "It's a good idea, just...well, it's kind of massive, don't you think?"
"S'pose," Ron mumbled. "But we could-"
"Hermione's right, Ron," Harry added. "No one would pay money just to walk where we've walked or see what we've seen. And the logistics of a tour – it would even take Hermione weeks to organize something like that!"
"I'll make a special segment of the museum just for you, Hermione," Ron wheedled.
"Yes, because I'm such an attention-seeker," Hermione laughed.
"No, it's so everyone would know how lucky I am," Ron explained, the tips of his ears turning red at his unfiltered words. Hermione's eyes widened as she stared at Ron, her cheeks flushing slightly pink. Harry turned his face to the window to hide his grin and give his friends some privacy. He counted one full minute before he faced them again, coughing discreetly.
Clearly embarrassed, Hermione stepped away from Ron, who was grinning broadly.
"Who would lead the tours, anyway?" she asked, clearing her throat. "Draco?"
The three of them burst out laughing again. It felt so good to act normal that they kept discussing Ron's plan for a full "Harry Potter experience tour" with increasingly ridiculous ideas. Eventually Ginny joined their merriment, making them all laugh even harder with her suggestion that they construct a fake but realistic and life-size Acromantula model. Ron's ashen face was priceless.
Yes, it was good to feel normal again.
Fourteen years later, Weasley Brothers (WB) Entertainment had the most successful movie series in history, and Ron and George proudly opened the Harry Potter Studio Tour. Draco agreed to narrate as part of his Azkaban early-release program.
And Ron's shirt was finally on display.
A/N: This was a funny little idea that came to me as I was trying to think of Ron stories for various challenges. I also wanted to write a nice Romione story for my fabulous beta WeasleySeeker because it's her birthday this month and she loves Romione so much! And I also wrote this because I'm a tad bit* jealous that she will get to see the Studio Tour and I probably won't. I'm not JK Rowling, but I wish I was, because SHE probably gets to go see the Studio Tour, too. I guess I should also mention that I don't own WB and it's not actually called Weasley Brothers. :)
*By 'tad bit', I mean I cry myself to sleep at night and my skin has turned an ugly shade of green. With envy. In case that wasn't clear.