The next Ron woke up on a couch that was not his own in a house he didn't recognize. Fire blazed through his skull as he attempted to open his eyes to the harsh sunlight streaming in from the front bay window. He managed to pull himself up from the skewed couch cushions to take a better look around. His head continued to ache and his stomach churned as if he had recently drank milk that had gone sour.
Once he was able to gather himself, Ron remembered the party the night before. He must still be at Lavender's house. Silently cursing Harry, he stood up took look for Floo Powder he could use in the hearth. There was no one else in the living room or kitchen, leaving him to quietly search the shelves near the fireplace for the miracle powder that could send him home.
He didn't know why he hadn't thought of it sooner. Flashes of drinking what felt like gallons of liquid and Harry snatching up his wand went through his mind as he tried to recall last night. His mind couldn't quite piece everything together, but he knew for sure he had lost Hermione and felt like he had no way home.
Grabbing a small bag of powder behind a vase on one of the bookshelves, Ron threw a dash of the small, gritty granules into the hearth and green flames burst from the unlit logs. Quickly, he replaced the bag of powder, climbed into the flames, and shouted his destination Suddenly, the world around him began to spin making him even more sick to his stomach, but before he had the chance to hurl into the flames, the spinning stopped and he fell out of the fireplace in his own flat.
"You made it back," said Harry from his position on the couch.
Ron lay on the carpeted floor willing the continued feeling of the room spinning to stop. He shut his eyes and grunted at Harry in response. He was in no mood to take the piss from Harry. Instead, he laid their groaning into the soft fibers of their living room floor. Until a small plank of wood smacked him in the head sending another wave of pain beating through his brain.
"Oy," he mumbled into the carpet. "What'd you do that for?"
"I thought you'd want your wand back."
Rolling over onto his back Ron grabbed for the wand that had smacked him in the head before tumbling away. "I could have used this last night," Ron said grasping his wand and holding on to it like a life preserver in the middle of the ocean. "I didn't have a way to get home, you prat. What did you think I was going to do without magic?"
"You seemed to get home just fine this morning. It's not like you needed magic passed out on Lavender's couch."
"How do you know I slept on her couch?" Ron lifted an eyebrow in jest. "For all you know, I could have slept next to Lavender since I'm a free man in all."
"I know you didn't," Harry said confidently. "Your sister Flooed last night to let me know you had passed out on Lavender's kitchen table after a game of Wizard's Cup so she moved you to the couch before she went home."
"My bloody sister was there?"
"Yeah mate, apparently you played a card game with her."
Ron turned back to moan into the carpet again. He couldn't believe he couldn't even remember seeing Ginny at the party, let alone playing a drinking game with her. His free night must have been way worse than he thought. "This is all her fault," Ron said aloud.
"You can't blame Ginny. At least she left you on a couch. Others would have done worse to you."
"No, not Ginny. Hermione. This is all Hermione's fault."
"I don't think Hermione was the one downing pitchers of Butterbeer spiked with Fire Whisky."
"No, but if she hadn't broken up with me, I wouldn't have." Ron smashed his face back into the muffled floor and let out an exasperated yell. "I can't believe she did this."
"Break-ups happen, mate. You've just got to live with it."
"No, not with her. We've already spent too long not being together, and now… Now what? She wants to go back to being friends? I don't think we even know how to do that at this point. I mean, I've seen her naked for Merlin's sake"
"Okay," Harry said. "First off, I didn't need to know that. Second, you've spent half your life being friends. It's can't be that difficult."
"I'm going to win her back. I have to win her back." Ron sat up on the floor looking like an overgrown toddler post-temper tantrum with his fist curled around in wand in determination.
"I'm not sure that's a good idea."
"It's a great idea. I pretend to go along with this friendship thing until she realizes we can't just be friends."
"Ron, you're being ridiculous. You've been friends for nearly eight years."
"You're right! So it will be easy to pretend!"
Scratching his brow in frustration, Harry let Ron carry on with planning out how he was going to pretend to be friends with someone he has been mates with since childhood. At this point, he realized there was no point in trying to talk Ron out of the idea. All he could do now was sit back and watch the disaster ensue.
"...we can do things like go to lunch together! Only boyfriends go to dinner; mates go to lunch!"
"Right, I'll leave you to it then," Harry said standing up from the couch and making his way toward his bedroom. "And you might want to start your plan with a shower. You like smell like last nights regurgitated leftovers."
Ron pulled at his shirt and breathed in the scent of spilled whisky mixed with yesterday's sweat. He shrugged letting the shirt drop. "You'll see, Harry. I'm going to win her back. I'm going to be her friend, and then I'm going to win her back!"
