Written after I discovered that too many stories have fan clubs involved. There were ones for Harry, Diggory, the Marauders, Krum. Even Oliver Wood.
Ron deserves one too, don't you think?

Ron stared in disbelief. He was gaping and was quite sure he looked like a fish, but there were more important matters at hand.

Like the fact that he had a fan club.

A fan club. He, Ronald Weasley, had a fan club.

It just didn't make any sense to him.

Ron could understand Harry's fan club: Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One, star Quidditch player. Harry's life demanded a fan club, even if Harry himself didn't understand why.

Cedric Diggory had had one when he was alive, and his made sense too. Pretty boy Diggory, also a Quidditch player, admired by half the girls in school.

James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin. They had all had fan clubs when they went to Hogwarts, and really, why wouldn't they? The three had been attractive and intelligent, respected for their status as Marauders.

Harry Potter, Cedric Diggory, James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin. These men were the stuff of romance novels and teenage daydreams. Their fan clubs made sense.

Ron had nothing in common with them.

So why the bloody hell did he have a fan club?

The shorter fifth year girl in front of him waved her hand in front of his face, looking concerned. "Are you okay, Ron?" she asked sweetly.

Ron continued to gape at the girl. This girl just called herself the president of my fan club, he thought, bewildered.

He probably would have stayed there indefinitely had Hermione Granger not come looking for him.

"Oh, there you are, Ron. We need to get started on Slughorn's essay. You'll need help, you've been in the hospital wing so long…." Hermione trailed off as the fifth year glared at her.

Ron's bemused stare had moved from the fifth year to Hermione. "I have a fan club," he told her, sounding as though he still didn't believe it.

Hermione sighed. "Is that what this is about?" she asked. "Because we have a lot of work to do to get you caught up."

The fifth year girl stalked away irritably as Hermione dragged Ron to the library.

-

"Did you know that I have a fan club?" Ron asked Lavender later that evening.

Lavender's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Those girls are whores," she said with a surprising amount of venom in her voice.

Ron rolled his eyes at Lavender's jealousy, and asked her the question that had been on his mind since the tiny fifth year had introduced herself. "Why would they make me a fan club though?"

Lavender shrugged, clearly getting tired of the conversation. "I don't know," she said. "But they better stop."

-

"Why do I have a fan club?"

Harry quickly stifled his laughter. Hermione looked up from the library book she was scouring, irritated. "This is important, Ron. Go ask Lavender or something."

"I did ask Lavender. She said she didn't know."

There was only the slightest twinge of sadness in Ron's voice, but Hermione picked up on it. Reasoning that her search for Horcruxes was getting nowhere anyway, she put down her book and turned to her friend. "Lavender is an idiot."

Ron looked as though he was going to argue, but thought better of it.

"The girls in your fan club think that you're attractive and intelligent. They know how loyal you are to your friends and how brave you were last year at the Ministry. They think you are an amazing Keeper, even if they don't know all that much about Quidditch themselves. In short, they think you're wonderful and fully deserving of a fan club."

Ron's ears had turned a bright red, but he looked pleased. "Thanks," he said quietly.

Harry smirked. "You seem to know an awful lot about this fan club, Hermione."

A faint blush covered Hermione's cheeks as she picked up her book. "Well, of course," she said. "I am the founder."