"I can't ask her!" Ron looked startled as he stared at Harry, mouth open.
"Why not?" Harry demanded, scowling at his red-headed best mate.
"Because I can't!" Ron muttered, backing away from the death glare he was getting from Harry.
"Because why, Ronald?" Harry was annoyed at his friend and found himself edging forward.
"Because you'll kill me!" Ron had jumped over his bed to put space between him and the Boy-Who-Lived.
Harry raised an eyebrow. "I will?"
Ron sighed. "Are you simple?" he jumped over the next bed at Harry's annoyed glare. "What? I'm not going to bloody march up to Hermione, ask her if I look good in leather trousers, and come back and tell you! She's your girlfriend, you great git, you'll kill me if I ask her."
Harry snorted. "I wanted an excuse to kill you, but…" he teased Ron, turning to look away. "Point taken." He nodded. "We can always go ask Snape!" Harry shouted, bouncing out of the dorm and down the stairs.
"Bloody hell." Ron mumbled.