Title: A Sympathetic Ear

Author: RavynFayre

Pairing: Harry/Ron

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling owns these boys, not me - which will be quite obvious once you starting reading!

Summary: Harry has a sympathetic ear, and a possible solution, for Ron's disastrous dating life.

Category: Angst/Romance

"I'm sorry," I say, commiserating with him. Again. I know Ron isn't stupid, but he certainly acts like it sometimes. How many of these girls will he have to bring up here before he realizes they don't come here to be with him? I learned long ago to make myself scarce when Ron has a "date", but it's fairly pointless. He's not getting any.

They're here to see me. That's not conceit. It's the truth. There hasn't been a single girl he's asked out who has been interested in him. And the ones who ask him out are even worse. They can't wait to get up to our room, then can't get out fast enough when I'm nowhere to be found. He can't figure out what he's doing wrong.

"It's not you, Ron. It's them." That's also the truth. There's nothing wrong with him. He's the most genuine person I know. A true friend. Brave, even under the most difficult of circumstances. Loyal to a fault.

He's also grown quite attractive over the years. The gangly, awkward pre-teen has faded, and now he's this handsome young man. Hair still as fiery red as ever. Twinkling brown eyes. A smile to light up the world, and a laugh to keep it warm for you.

Any of them would be lucky to have him, if you ask me. He doesn't ask me, though. He just moans and complains that he'll never find the right girl.

//Have you ever thought that maybe it's not a girl you need?//

"Sure you will," I tell him. "You're still young. Give it time."

He's asked me dozens of times to go on a double-date with him. The girl he's seeing always has a friend who's just dying to go out with me. Of course she is, Ron. They all are.

"Relax, Ron. I'm fairly certain you won't die a virgin."

//Actually, I could help you with that . . .//

I once said, only half-jokingly, "Tell you what. If you're eighteen and still a virgin, I'll have sex with you." He turned so red, I was sure he was having a stroke. He didn't bring up that subject again for quite a while.

I always told myself I'd never approach him. I'd leave it up to him to ask. He knows I prefer guys. He even knows I prefer him. I drop the odd hint now and again, just often enough to make him think. I can see the wheels turning as he contemplates my comments. Thus far, he's successfully shrugged them off, chalking them up to my being exhausted from too much Quidditch practice.

"No, Ron, plastic surgery is not an option."

//You're perfect just like you are. Can't you get that through your head?//

"If you fall off your broom onto your face, you're in no position to tell Pomfrey how to reconstruct it. She's just going to put you back together the way you were before."

He's not just being thick. Now, he's bordering on annoying.

You'd think the fact that I haven't had a date in six months, and that I'm always on hand to share his dating disasters, would give him a clue. I swear, he's intent on going through every girl in every year in every house. He exhausted the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs ages ago. Some of the Ravenclaws were surprisingly well-mannered. The Slytherins haven't been terribly accommodating, but he's quite determined.

Do you have any idea how creepy it was when he started going out with first-, second- and third-year girls? What could a seventeen-year-old boy possibly have in common with an eleven-year-old-girl? All I can come up with is that he shares a bedroom with the wizarding world's Boy Wonder, and they want to get Boy Wonder into bed. It's just wrong, and I told him so. He shied away from them for a while, then went right back. Until there weren't any left.

"Your new robes look fine, Ron. You could probably use a haircut, though."

Huge mistake. Now he's acting like a raving lunatic, convinced he looks like a freak. Thank goodness we can go to Hogsmeade tomorrow and get that little problem taken care of.

I can never be mad with him, though. I just have to tolerate his stubbornness. And the fact that he's blind to what is, literally, right in front of him.

"Wear the black, button-down, long-sleeved shirt your mother gave you last Christmas. It looks great with those jeans."

I have no idea who he's going out with tonight. He doesn't bother telling me anymore. He doesn't want to hear what I think in advance, but he doesn't mind bitching to me about it when it goes bad. And it always does. Ron has a surprising masochistic streak.

"Check my top bureau drawer," I point when he asks to use my cologne. I love how it smells on him. I'll have to get him a bottle for Christmas.

"You look great." //As usual.// Jeans just tight enough in all the right places. Two buttons undone at the top of the shirt. Actually his hair looks good that length; he should probably forego the haircut tomorrow. I smile and he smiles back.

"What do you mean, 'aren't I going to change?' Change for what? Where would I be going?"

//Oh.//

My first date in six months. I wonder if he's planned what we're to do tonight? If not, I have a few ideas of my own. I promise he'll have a good time.

~*~*~*~*~* THE END ~*~*~*~*~*