A/N: Hello all! Welcome to my story. This is number two, and as such I won't pretend to be any good, SO I encourage you all to PLEASE comment and review. I am a needy writer who thrives off validation, so if you don't have anything nice to say do as your mother told you. (Unless it's constructive in which case I desperately need it.) I will be updating weekly, (I think on Saturdays) and I hope you enjoy this story, as I have thoroughly enjoyed writing it! Unfortunately I don't own the characters, and how I write them are just the incoherent ravings of a loon, so if you don't like them don't pay any attention.
The music in its thumping predictability was starting to give Ron a headache. The only reason he had held out this long was because of the wonderfully bubbly, yet calming presence beside him. Harry had disappeared into this purple pulsing evening a couple hours earlier, after all, he was no longer classmates with these people so he had to make up for lost time. At first Ron tried to keep up, but the beginnings of the summer heat in tandem with the soulless thud of music overcame him, and he found a nice bench in the back yard to await his pal. Ron didn't begrudge Harry, mainly due to the goddess that was Hermione agreeing to stay by Ron's side. Sighing he looked up at the girl sitting by him; she didn't seem to mind soaking up some of Ron's hard won wet blanket status. No, she was looking thoroughly amused watching the drunk partiers separated from them by the lush, excruciatingly kept garden, and the glass walls to what Ron had claimed looked like "a set designers drug-fueled wet dream" upon first inspection. Harry had just laughed at the overwhelmed and slightly disgruntled Ron; Harry had gotten used to his best friend's remarks about the extravagance that pervaded life at his private school, and found them a source of constant hilarity. But now he was hanging out with those "posh pricks" while Ron patiently got drunk outside. Hermione seemed to notice Ron's fruitless attempt to drink what was not in his cup.
"Let me fill that up for you Ronald, wouldn't want you to go home sober now would we?" She giggled grabbing his drink from him.
"How does Harry always manage to convince us to go to these fucking parties where we know no one and want to know less?" Ron moaned.
"Because we love him, and he knows it."
"I could at least manage it if they weren't playing this rubbish dance shit they call music." He sighed.
"Now, don't go using that kind of language," Hermione chastised. She leaned down and kissed the top of his head, "And be a good fellow and stay here, I'll only be a moment."
Ron watched her wander off and promised himself that when she got back he would be in a more sociable mood for her sake. He wasn't the only one who had a distaste for Harry's private school parties. Looking around himself Ron couldn't help but marvel at what surrounded him; Molly would kill to have a garden so lushly outfitted with no dead and dug up patches of grass courtesy football nets or cleats. Hell, she had gone two years with no flowers in the back yard while the twins attempted to master the art of killing another player from sheer kicking strength alone. While ineffectual at murdering and members of the Weasley household, the time had not been so forgiving of her geraniums. Ron had just busied himself studying the water feature beside him when he felt Hermione return to her spot beside him on the bench.
"You are the most magnificent creature I've been blessed to know." He supplied turning to look at his friend. Only the words wilted in his mouth as he realised it was a Blond sitting next to him where he expected to see a brunette.
"I always suspected so myself," the boy shrugged, "Although to say you know me might be a bit presumptuous."
Ron just stared with a fearfully tactless expression on what he was painfully aware was a horrifically speckled complexion.
The young man beside him however just laughed, "You don't go to Weston do you? I mean unless you've just transferred or a sophomore, but then you wouldn't be here now would you?"
"Well you've figured me out. I suppose it was the flannel that is worn far more than is currently fashionable." Ron retorted, a little surprised he had even been able to speak, much less so coherently under the gaze of such stormy grey eyes.
"And you've clearly figured Weston out!" Chuckled the stranger. "Oh it's quite true I'm dreadfully ashamed to admit. We don't particularly care for character here."
"I could tell from the taste in music, it has absolutely nothing to it." Ron responded, surprised at how his resolution to be sociable had completely fled at a moment's notice.
"Oh thank god! Someone else who agrees with me, that's why I left the hormonal mosh pit inside, I couldn't stand the airy voices and overcompensating bass." The blond sighed. Seeming to win an internal struggle he turned back to Ron, "if you hate Weston attitudes so much why are you here, if you mind my asking?"
Ron considered for a moment before shrugging "Well not all of you are so bad, my best mate used to go to Weston, and I mean, you don't seem like that horrible of guy."
"Who's your mate?"
But just at that moment Hermione arrived drink in hand, and pulled Ron off the bench with the other hand. "Come on Ronald, Harry is officially incapacitated and we might as well take advantage of the situation." The boy seemed to start at the mention of Harry. "So long!" she waved at the stranger before dragging Ron behind her. Ron couldn't help but glance back at the boy, who was wearing a curious smile before being jerked back into reality. He took a swig of what Hermione had brought him.
"This is water?"
"I figured Molly wouldn't appreciate my bringing you home a complete mess." Hermione laughed. Ron didn't say anything, but took another drink. He noticed a soft song emanating from the house and realised that his head had been clear since the blond teen had first laughed that strange, welcoming laugh.
