A/N: A 'Stupidverse' short story! Ron's perspective, takes place post-'Stupid'. Let me know what you think!

Harry sits down across from me, clutching his Firewhisky. I frown. There are bags under his eyes and he's not usually a big drinker. "Hey, mate," I say, trying to sound a bit jolly for him. I wonder what's got his knickers in a twist.

"Hey, Ron," he sighs. Actually sighs as he says it. Something's got to be up.

"Somebody die?" I joke.

He shakes his head, then grins a bit, ruefully. "Sorry, I've been a wreck this week," he says. "Lot on my mind."

"Nothing like a drink to clear your head then, eh?" I wink, and throw back a swallow of my own Firewhisky. I wipe my mouth with my sleeve. He smiles quick, but it fades pretty fast, and he doesn't even take a sip. Bollocks. "Well, spit it out, mate," I go, and lean back in my chair. When Harry doesn't answer right away I look idly round the pub. The Three Broomsticks always has a good atmosphere. Very lively, very...full-feeling, even when it's not full.

A fly lands on the edge of the table and I shoo it away. Little buggers. There are so bloody many of them this time of year. Summer still dying off. School's just started again. I think early September is probably the worst time of year for flies. Cool enough that they don't wait till evening to come out. Hideous things. All buggy and leggy and buzzy.

"Listen."

I look back at Harry. "Yeah?"

"I...I found out last week, er...bloody hell, it's hard to believe, much less tell you..."

I let my eyes wander again as he stalls. He'll get around to it eventually. I wonder how flies land upside down. Are there sticky pad things on their feet, d'you think, or is it that they have tiny claws with tiny pointers that dig in when they walk? What would happen if a fly fell off the ceiling? Would it fly?

"Hermione's pregnant."

Or would it fall too fast to catch itse—

What.

Harry looks across the table at me. Last time I saw him look this stressed out, Ginny had just left him. Merlin. Merlin. WHAT?

"I—I didn't think—it wasn't planned, I—"

"You got her pregnant?" My voice sounds off. Detached. Hollow. Like my stomach. Merlin's balls. Harry stares into his drink. His bloody face is sunken. "Bloody hell, Harry. Bloody fuck." He doesn't say anything. Of all the fucking nerve. He's got my ex-wife pregnant? My goddamned best mate has my ex-wife pregnant? Are they going to—get married? I'd sort of thought they'd just...I dunno...get tired of each other after the fling thrill wore off. Harry insists that they never had an affair, even though to me it seemed bloody likely, but what happens now?

"If you want to hit me or something, I won't blame you," he mumbles dully. Well there's an idea.

"It's tempting," I growl, and am surprised at how angry I sound. Urgh. Harry and Hermione. Merlin, the hurt's still raw from when she left me! First she shacks up with Harry, now he's got her pregnant after what, three months? Hell! "This is—this is un-fucking-believable."

"You're telling me," says Harry. Odd. Shouldn't the bastard be happy? "I don't know what to do here."

"What the hell d'you mean what do you do? What—what?" I'm so confused.

He spreads his hands. "I can't decide if I'm happy about it or not! I mean...this was not in the plan—not that there was a plan—but...if it had to happen, I mean if it was going to happen I would have wanted it to be much later, and there's you, and I don't know..."

"What do you want me to say here?" I spit. "'Congratulations, hope it gets your eyes'?"

Harry winces and slumps in his seat. "No. I don't know. I'm sorry, I just—I wanted to tell you."

"Are you going to marry her?" I ask, feeling very cold. He looks at me like it's the biggest effort in the world to lift his head. This is mad. This is so mad. He's quiet for a long time. I can't tell if it's because he doesn't know, or he's already gone and done it like a damn fool and is trying to work up the stuff to tell me. What a bastard; what a goddamned bastard. He has been my best mate for how many bloody years, since we were eleven, and he's been taking things away from me ever since I met him. He stole the glory even when it wasn't his fault. He was—is—a better Quidditch player, even though those Muggles raised him. My family likes him better'n me. Mum especially. Took my sister. I was always the one she turned to, growing up, the one she hid behind, and the minute she saw Harry, hoo-ee! I was ancient history. Her own brother.

Then he took my wife. My wife left me and he snatched her right up. What happened to the three-way friendship we all had, huh? Wasn't it always the three of us? They've split us all up, the two of them. And now he's taken the one thing I gave her that I thought would be just mine, just ours, and that's children. Bloody hell. I'm at a loss here. It's so effortless for him. To just...sit there and have things work out the way he wants them to...the first wife left him, but it's okay, he kept seeing the Weasleys, as Ginny left the country! Retired from Quidditch, but it's okay, immediately got a job at Hogwarts that I could never, ever get! Started feeling lonely, but it's okay, best mate's girl left stupid old Ron and now Harry's got a bedmate again! No stinking effort.

In my anger I haven't noticed what Harry's doing. He's fiddling with something he pulled out of his pocket—holy mother, it's a ring. If I weren't so bloody mad at him I'd go 'Yes!' and make him laugh. Merlin. He's going to marry her. He's serious. He's that serious about her?

"All my life, Ron, all I ever wanted was a family," he says. There are tears in his eyes. This is mad. "Yours became mine. You've been a brother to me since I've known you, and the last thing I want to do is let you down. I know I have twice over already. But now that your sister's back, I can't be over at the Burrow like I used to. It's like the divorce finally went through. You and Hermione are all I have left, Ron, besides my kids. And I'm sorry," he says, and damn fool's actually crying now, "but I love her. I do. You can understand, can't you?"

I...do. How can you not love that woman? It's been the hardest thing of my life to let her go. All I wanted was what she wanted—until she didn't want me anymore. It's still hard. Harder knowing she's with Harry now. God, they're having a baby? He's going to marry her? They've only been together for three months, haven't they?

Haven't they?

"Harry, you've been...with Hermione...what, a couple of months now?" He nods. "You don't think you're rushing in a bit?"

He opens and closes his mouth a few times without saying anything. Takes a long swallow of Firewhisky (finally) and doesn't seem to notice or care that there's smoke dribbling out his ears. He's oblivious to the fact that he's still all teared-up, too. Looks a bloody mess. A right mess.

"Why are you such a mess?" I ask, and he blinks. I'm frowning. "Shouldn't you be chuffed about now? Got the girl, got a kid, got everything. What's the matter with you?"

"It's coming at the price of a family, Ron, and at the price of my best friend."

"Some fucking friend you are!" I burst out, angry. Why doesn't he SEE what he HAS instead of whining about what he doesn't have?! The self-martyring idiot! "You have everything, you always have! You always get what you want in the end!"

"That is not true," Harry says, but he sounds so defeated I know he can't mean it.

"You're going to marry Hermione after three months? Not bloody likely. How long had you two been getting it on before you told everyone, huh? Was it before our divorce finalized? Was it before YOUR divorce finalized?!"

"I would never do that to Ginny, or to you!" Harry exclaims. He's getting angry now too. Well, goody. I stand up.

"You're unbelievable, you know that? How can you lie to my face and say there was nothing going on with you two before three months ago?"

"Nothing—ever happened." He drops his stupid face into his hands. They're shaking. "Nothing, Ron, I swear. But you're right, I did...I did want...I was in—in love with her for years before any of this happened."

"So you wanted my wife and now you've got her. Congratu-fucking-lations, Potter." I throw down a few Sickles for my drink and storm out of the pub. Its patrons all stare at me as I go. Damned herd animals. Ooh, look, a scandal! Let's watch as some bloke's life crashes and burns! Bloody disgusting. Ugh, I want to destroy something.

It's still light outside. Seems inappropriate. I want to trudge through the rain at night in the bitter cold. The sun hasn't even fully set yet. Unbelievable. And it's warm, too, because it's still technically summer in the beginning of September. Bollocks! Stupid nice weather. Hellcats. Hermione's pregnant. They'll probably name it Harry Junior. Harry Potter II. Ugh. That little shit. I can't believe him. I can't believe it. That bastard hits me right where it hurts, every time. I never see it coming either. I'm probably too stupid. This is the worst. Stupid Harry. Stupid Hermione. Stupid stupid STUPID.

I kick a rock. It bounces off the edge of the little sidewalk and pings away to the middle of the street. Not very satisfying.

He was in love with her for years? When did this start? Did she feel the same way? What if he...years. How MANY years? It's been three since Ginny left. Was he in love with Hermione before then? Is THAT the real reason Ginny left him? Oh, god, things are spinning into place in my head...of COURSE he was in love with her. Merlin, how did I never see it? How many times did he escape his own house to come stay with us? I knew it wasn't because he missed my charming company. He missed Hermione's. Balls, and that goes back for ages...back in our bloody twenties he was doing that. I can't believe he and Hermione would cheat that long. Maybe they really didn't. It had to have been one-sided. He was head over heels for her but knew it was never going to happen, so he just spent as much time with her as he could and—and probably got more and more depressed every year.

Damn it. It didn't work out between Hermione and me. I've got to accept that someday.

That's why he was so torn up about telling me. It wasn't just him not wanting to hurt my feelings. He feels guilty because things turned out for him at my expense. He didn't try to take my wife away after all. God, how many years did that idiot drown in it? Just so I'd be happy. He must've known if he'd tried, he probably could've wooed her away from me. I'm pretty average. Average job at the Ministry, average looks, average average average. Harry has everything going for him. But the bastard didn't try to take my wife. She left me. He waited, for my sake. And then another year and a half to give me peace of mind.

Look at me, being all mature and rational.

Ugh. I'm going to have to go apologize now, aren't I.

I stop trudging and stare up at the darkening sky for a minute.

Bastard.

Maybe it'll be okay.

I turn around and start heading back toward the Three Broomsticks.