The Fox and Firkin was an Irish pub, owned by a Scottish man named Peirce, located on the outskirts of London, England. Yet despite its geography or lack of, as Hermione would put it, the pub was Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley's favourite bar.

It was quiet enough that adoring fans did not harass Harry while being cheap enough for Ron not to complain about the price of a pint. More than that, they served their pints to their individual liking. Going to Australia a few years previous with Hermione had influenced Ron somewhat. They drank their beer cold there, and since it had been Ron's first real encounter with beer, it left a mark on him. Harry was English through and through; he liked his closer to room temperature. Peirce was happy to accommodate them both. Even when they bickered about the complexities of drinking beer standing at the bar rather than ordering any beers at all.

It went without saying, the pair had spent more time in the bar the year Hermione and Ginny were finishing up at Hogwarts than they would ever freely admit.

Now, finished with their training, their responsibilities as Aurors continued to grow. Not to mention, Ron spent a lot of his spare time helping George out with the shop. Meanwhile, Harry was always offering to babysit little Teddy. Otherwise, they squeezed in time to spend with their girlfriends when they could. Ron was happy to admit his squeezing was far less difficult than Harry's. His and Ginny's schedules seemed to rarely align. As a result, they frequented The Fox and Firkin a lot less than they wanted. So it surprised Ron greatly when Harry said he'd meet him there that afternoon.

'So you're still alive, then?' Ron asked jokingly. Despite living and working together, he hadn't seen Harry for what? A week?

'Yep,' he replied lifting his dreadfully warm beer for a drink. Ron cringed at the thought of lukewarm beer.

'What have you been up to?'

'This and that.'

Ron lifted an eyebrow in return for the flippant remark. Harry sighed as he placed his beer firmly back on the coaster. Ron would have usually taken this time to point out there was no point of him using a coaster as his beer was nowhere near cold enough to produce condensation but he sensed it would fall on unappreciative ears. After a moment of staring off into the distance, Harry finally looked him back in the face. 'I've been at Ginny's.'

They'd been friends for almost a decade. Sharing a dorm, a bedroom, a tent and then an apartment meant there had been times he saw more of his best mate than he ever wanted to. It meant he knew the kinds of things he got up to when he thought no one was looking.

Of course, it went both ways.

That, however, did not mean he wanted to ever hear about Harry's sex life. Things might have been different and they might have exchange stories or tips like other best mates, had his best mate's sex life not involved his little sister. So he nodded and raised his hand in acknowledgement, but also to show his finality in the subject. He knew all he needed to know already; Harry had already had said enough.

Harry smiled. Because he is a smarmy git, Ron thought. On occasion, when Harry was feeling especially cheeky, or dangerous, he would slip innuendos into the conversation just to annoy him. No matter how hard he tried, they would always conjure up foul mental images involving his precious and innocent baby sister. Harry would end up with a dead arm or a corked leg. Hermione would chastise them both for being too immature about something perfectly natural. Ginny usually laughed herself silly and made filthy hand gestures behind Hermione's back. In the end, it left him unable to look at Ginny or Harry without feeling sick.

Fearing that kind of dreaded moment was only sips of beer away, he pointed at his friend as fiercely as he could. 'Don't,' he warned.

'Don't what?' Harry smirked, "don't talk about... I dunno, perhaps... How Ginny put her finger...'

'NO!'

'...on the hot plate? She burnt it pretty bad, actually.'

'Smooth transition Potter. Very smooth.'

But not smooth enough. For the slightest of seconds his runaway mind wondered where... and then his stopped himself. He emptied his pint without taking a breath.

'Slow down,' Harry said with a frown as Ron put his now empty glass back on the table.

'Your shout.'

Harry went to protest but closed his gaping mouth before saying anything. He left to get the next round, leaving Ron confused. Sure, Harry was better off financially, with a hefty inheritance as well as a higher position in the Auror Dept than he; Harry never paid for a round that wasn't his. This wasn't because he was cheap; Harry was generous to a fault with his money. No, it just wasn't how things were done. Plus, any bloke who wanted to keep friends never avoided his round. All this considered he couldn't fathom why Harry was shouting a round that wasn't his to shout. Ron waited patiently for his return.

'One ice-beer-slushy for you,' Harry said, placing a glass in front of Ron as he took as seat, 'and one real man's beer for me.' He took a drink of his own beer before flashing an obnoxiously proud smirk. Ron did not buy it.

'What have you done?'

'What?'

'Did you and Ginny break up?'

'What are you...'

'Is she pregnant?'

'No!'

'Then, you know something about Hermione?'

'Wha..'

'Oh Merlin, she's not pregnant, is she? Because if you've heard something you have to tell...'

'Ron! What the fuck are you talking about?'

'You just bought a round out of turn. Something is wrong. I know it,' Ron finished with a pointed finger for good measure. That was until he realised he was doing it, quickly he wrapped his hand around his glass. His mother always pointed and he would not turn into his mother.

Harry sighed, letting Ron's odd behaviour go without comment. 'There is nothing wrong, per-se, just something I need to talk to you about.'

'Are you breaking up with me?' Ron had meant it as a joke, but something about the way Harry dryly swallowed took all the mirth from the comment.

'I'm moving out.'

'Oh,' was all Ron could muster, though he knew he had to say something else. Harry was watching him intently, probably analysing his every movement in order to gauge if he was going to take it well or terribly. 'Oh,' he said again stupidly, before, 'cool.'

'Cool?' Harry asked him with a raised eyebrow. 'Just cool?'

'What else do you want me to say?'

They fell into an awkward silence only broken by their sips of beer. As though it was the polite thing to do. Ron knew he wasn't angry. He just felt put out. Somewhere in the back of his head where he didn't like to spend a lot of time, he knew this day was going to come. He just thought they had more drunken nights, more male comradeship, more time. He sounded like a girl, so he took a hearty gulp of beer.

'Where are going to live?' he finally asked, trying to be the supportive friend.

Harry considered him for a moment before replying without making eye contact. 'Wales.'

'Wales? Why on earth Wales? It's always raining and… Wales? Really?'

'Yes, Wales. And, might I add it's not that bad.'

It was a complete lie, Ron knew as much. One of Harry's favourite pastimes was to complain about the weather in Wales. Only when Ginny wasn't around, of course. 'You hate the weather. You're full of shit.'

'Fine,' Harry conceded, 'I hate it, but we can't keep living like this.'

Ron's ears tweaked on the word 'we'. Harry was always very careful to have Ginny and him as two separate beings whenever they talked. He'd never noticed as such, it was Hermione who pointed it out. It was never 'we' but instead 'Ginny and me'. Ron had never been able to understand why he was the only one privileged to such an odd act. Hermione thought it was because Harry didn't want Ron to think he was picking Ginny over him. He'd thought it was a load of crap. That was until now.

It happened. It was the end of Bromance, and the beginning of Coupledom. Harry didn't want to commute to his relationship and live with his best friend. It was inevitable, one day the tables would turn.

'Is Ginny making you do this?'

Harry rolled his eyes. 'Ginny doesn't force me to do things.'

'Yeah, right.'

'Just because you get forced into things,' Harry said slyly, which Ron pulled a face at. Harry chuckled, 'I've seen Hogwarts, A History on your bedside table Ron.'

'Fuck off, I wanted to read it.'

'No, you didn't.'

'And you don't like Wales, so why are you moving there?'

It seemed like such an easy question but it was heavy. They stared at each other aware it could turn into an argument at any second.

'Look, I know we don't talk about this kind of thing but I don't care. I love Ginny. I'm in love with her and I don't want to pretend it's light and casual around you. I don't like staying at Ginny's. Her housemates do my head in. I just want to be with Ginny. I want to spend the rest of my life with her. So yes, although it's always fucking raining in Wales, I don't care as long as I'm there with her.'

Two options occurred to Ron. One he could fight back. He could point out Ginny was a witch and that meant she could travel easily from anywhere to anywhere without fuss. There was no reason to actually live in Wales. Though he was sure if he did, there was a good chance he might not see Harry for some time after this outing to The Fox and Firkin. Ron didn't like the idea much; quick on his toes he went with option two.

'Shit, calm down. Beer?'

Ron felt it was the best time for his first round for the evening. Harry nodded curtly. Pierce eyed him as he poured the two beers. Ron vaguely wondered if it was that easy to tell he and Harry were having a disagreement.

'Do you reckon I should ask Hermione to move in then?' Ron asked as he placed the two fresh beers on the table.

'Well, I was going to suggest as much,' he said with a shrug.

'I could tell her she is moving in. You know, because sometimes I can force her to do things too,' he said flippantly.

'No, you can't.'

'Yes. Yes, I can. In fact, Harry Potter, what you don't know is that Hermione kind of likes it.'

When Harry's face contorted with disgust Ron laughed.

It was then Harry eyed his beer; glass wet with condensation from pure coldness. He gingerly took a sip. Wiping the foam from his face with the back of his hand, Harry grimaced. 'Gross.'

There was no way Ron was going to let his little sister live a guy who drank hot beer.