Discord here…!  Frequenter of sardonic tales with meaningless endings, she's trolled around the Harry Potter section for quite a while, but never buggered up enough to write anything.  Uuhhh… Guess she has, this time.

Enjoy.

Loose Bulbs

"No!  No!  I don't want this anymore!"

            "Harry, calm down."  Ron held out his hands, lifting them up and down rapidly in the air in an attempt to calm his friend.

            "I will not!"  Harry was pacing in front of the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room.  Judging by the ambient darkness, it was nighttime, and the room was deserted… almost.

            "Every time something happens, it's always related to me, somehow!  I'm sick of it!"  Harry stopped, his shoulders drooping as he ran a hand through his tousled hair.  He spread his hands, his face contorting with a mixture of pain and exhaustion.

            Ron was tense, completely at a loss at what to do. 

            Harry began to babble words, pouring them out of his mouth like water.  "There's just the entire incident that happened when I was a baby, and that won't leave me alone, then you can count that buggering house-elf that seems to have a crush on me, then you count all of the random 'Mortal Peril' episodes that I'm forced through… But not this!"

            Ron rolled his head back, almost pleading patience from the heavens.  "Harry… God, Harry, I know it must be tough-"

            "Tough?  Jesus, Ron!  'Tough' doesn't even begin to cover it!"

            Ron inhaled, but Harry interrupted, counting off on his fingers.  "I've been captured, tortured, poisoned, had every bone in my buggering arm taken out, I've been forced to eat out of a loose floorboard for an entire summer, not counting a whole new genre of Harry-torturing!!"

            Ron flinched, and made a move to speak, but was cut off again.  "Do you have any idea how much I've fucked in the past five years?  Not like it isn't good at times, but somebody made me do that with Snape!!"

            Ron smirked, sliding in a comment.  "Not like he wasn't greasy enough."

            Harry leveled a finger at him like a pistol.  "Don't you bitch about it; you have gotten laid a billion times because of those… those hormonal… fanfiction authors…"

            Ron crossed his arms, his ears lighting up with a blush whose color was akin to a Christmas light.  "Not like you haven't had your fair share."

            The Boy Who Lived threw his arms into the air in a gesture of frustration.  "Yeah, but it's all with Malfoy!  Do you realize how bad of a fuck he is?"

            Ron leaned on one foot, his blush deepening.  "Yeah, I do.  You remember that one… the one with the, ah…" He twirled his finger in the air, deciding to leave his sentence unfinished.

            "Oooh, that one, the one with the extra…"

            "Yeah, yeah, that, and the loose lightbulb…"

            "Right, I remember that one…"

            Both boys trailed off, with an air of one who was doing some pleasant reminiscing.

            Harry shook himself out of his trance.  "But I am sick of it."

            Ron paused.

"Right…I'll just… I'll just take your word for it."