A/N: Hola! I've not even begun replying to the reviews of my last update and other stuff and normally I don't like putting anything on here until that's done but this is happening and I haven't forgotten and I will do it just not yet, okay?

And breathe.

And chapter.

Disclaimer: J.K Rowling, Rowling, Rowling, Rowling owns Harry Potter so what you gonna do now?

Thirty three.

There were thirty three individual panes of glass in the window to Ron's left. This meant it had the second highest number of panes of glass out of all the windows in the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. The winner went to the huge window behind Lockhart's desk that had forty-six and let in enough light that it gave the illusion that the Professor had unearthly glow surrounding him while he was sat at the front of the class. The unfortunate loser was the tiny window above the stock cupboard at the back of the room that only had a measly two panes. Ron had a feeling if he had been a window he would be that one; a small one that served no real purpose and no one noticed.

What this in-depth study into the windows of Hogwarts concluded was that Ron Weasley was severely bored.

"Of course, Miss Granger was the only one of you that bothered to add the detail about my allergy to non-organic cotton," Lockhart continued to tell the class, unaware that the youngest Weasley boy had no idea what he was talking about. "With an eye for detail like that, why, you could make me an excellent assistant one day, Miss Granger!"

Lockhart strutted to the front of Hermione's desk and winked at her. Even from his position at the back, Ron saw her shiver. It turned his stomach. For what felt like the fifth time this lesson he was infinitely grateful that Hermione always sat apart from him and Harry in this lesson. If he had been any closer he would probably get sun burn from her blushing cheeks. It was pathetic, the way all the girls in school behaved around the moron.

"So," Lockhart boomed, moving back to the front and centre, "I'm sure you've all been wondering about the subject of today's lesson? Well, wonder no more, as today we will be reliving the-"

Lockhart was interrupted by a knock on the classroom door and Ron decided he was forever indebted to whoever had been the cause of it.

"Come in," Lockhart called, not moving from his wide-legged stance.

Slowly, the door was pushed open to reveal a fifth-year Ravenclaw with a scroll in her hand. She glanced briefly at the class before throwing her dark hair over her shoulder and approaching Lockhart.

Ron couldn't help it; his jaw dropped.

He had seen her in the Great Hall and around the castle before, but this had to be the closest he had ever been. All those times he had admired the way she walked and smiled and breathed, but being this much closer showed him that he hadn't really seen her before. There was a grace about her that none of the other girls at Hogwarts could hope to recreate. When she smiled, it felt like time stopped for a moment just so everyone could witness the miracle, because no one should be without the knowledge that such beauty existed.

"Holy shit," Seamus groaned from the table on Ron's left. "It's Tits McGee."

And there was that as well.

It didn't matter to Ron what purpose had brought her into the room; all that mattered was that it kept her here for as long as possible. Unfortunately all she had to do was deliver the message from Professor Sprout and leave them again. So, after just a few short seconds in the room, the girl was walking back to the door much too quickly for Ron's liking.

It wasn't fair, that she could just walk in and out of his life like this. All he wanted was a solid few minutes to stare at her, possibly even a photograph to keep under his pillow, but all he ever got were these stolen glances. She was just feet from the door as Ron nervously licked his lips. What he wouldn't give for her to turn around and see him… his broomstick… his chess set… He'd happily give up his legs if she smiled at him. It wasn't too much to ask, was it? A smile? It's not like it would cost her anything.

And then, as the perfect hand at the end of her perfect arm grasped the doorknob, she turned, gave the class one last sweeping look and it happened.

For a split second, maybe a bit more, she was looking directly at him.

Ron's brain screamed at him to smile casually or save someone from a burning building or propose or anything, but before he even had chance to close his mouth, her eyes had fell on the boy sat on his right and had done a double take.

His insides roaring with jealousy, Ron frowned at Harry, who looked as slack-jawed as he probably had done. The girl gave Harry a quick smile and left the classroom a much duller shade than it had been when she was inside it. Ron heard Harry swallow what sounded a bit like a large rock and turned to back to the front.

"Righto," Lockhart boomed as though nothing of importance had just happened. "Where was I? Oh, yes," he remembered, his voice turning into an infuriating stage whisper. "The Bandon Banshee."

Not giving a shit about anything Lockhart could possibly say, Ron dropped his head onto his fist and scowled. Just because he was famous and brave and good at Quidditch and famous Harry always had the older girls smiling at him. Ron didn't care if all the other girls smiled at him, but couldn't he at least have that girl look at him? Just once?

It wasn't like Harry was a heartthrob or anything, Ron thought sullenly, inspecting Harry out of the corner of his eyes. His hair was always a mess, but maybe they though that looked cool? His glasses were definitely not cool. He hadn't got any stubble or muscles. In fact he was probably the only boy at the school scrawnier that he was. And he was short. And he walked weirdly. And he had that annoying habit where he did that thing. And he was holding a book over his crotch. And he had those stupid-

Book over his crotch?

"Oi, leave it out," Harry hissed at him. Ron met Harry's eyes and grinned.

"Lockhart does look nice in sky blue," he said seriously, "but I wouldn't go that far."

Colour flooded Harry's cheeks. "Shut up. You know it's her."

Ron frowned thoughtfully before shaking his head. "Who? You've been staring at Lockhart this whole time, mate."

"Fuck off," Harry growled, punching Ron in the leg.

"Now, now," Ron said, failing to stop himself from laughing, "what you're going through is perfectly natural-"

"If you don't shut up-"

"Your body is going through a lot of changes-"

"I'll change you face if you don't-"

"And it is completely normal to have urges-"

Harry gave up on verbal threats and hit Ron with his book. Ron responded by aiming a punch at Harry's crotch that was skilfully blocked. It wasn't long before both of them were aiming to silently mutilate each other in blur of violence and whispered threats.

"Harry!" came Lockhart's voice from nowhere, causing Ron to drop the quill he had been using to try and draw on Harry's face. "I see you're excited about this part of the tale!"

On the front row, Ron noticed Hermione glaring at the two of them. She must have known what they were doing and was probably going to give them a bollocking over lunch because of it.

"I- er – of course I am, Professor," Harry stammered.

"Right then, if you'd like to come to front and play the part of the banshee." Going by the tone of Lockhart's voice you would have been forgiven for believing that he had just offered Harry a year's supply of chocolate, rather than a very humiliating experience.

Normally Ron felt sorry for his best mate, but this meant that he obviously won their little battle so this time he smirked. Instead of doing what he usually did, which was wish Lockhart nothing but pain with his eyes as he made his way to the front, Harry paled quicker than Ron had ever seen. It was then Ron remembered.

Having to be a part of Lockhart's re-enactments was humiliating. Having to be a part of Lockhart's re-enactments in Harry's current situation would be enough to make any boy ask for transfer to a school in Mexico.

"I – um - why – maybe-"

"Harry can't do it, Professor," Ron blurted out.

The whole room turned to stare at the two of them sitting unnaturally straight at the back. Hermione frowned slightly as if trying to work out what was going on. Ron hoped for Harry's sake she got it wrong, but there were more important things on his mind at the minute.

Lockhart blinked and turned back to Harry as though Ron hadn't spoken. "Is there something wrong, Harry?"

"Erm…"

"He's – er – hurt his ankle, sir," Ron supplied again. He chanced a glance at Harry. While still pale, he looked capable of speech now.

"Yeah, it's my ankle, Professor," Harry lied with his usual cool. "On the way here I slipped coming up the stairs. I don't think it's serious, but I probably shouldn't risk it."

Hermione shot Ron a questioning look that he ignored. They hadn't been on any stairs on their way to the classroom.

"Oh, I'm sure it won't hurt," chuckled Lockhart to Ron and Harry's horror. "I promise to go easier on you than I did on the real banshee." He looked around the class as though expecting them to laugh at his joke and didn't seem at all perturbed when none of them did.

"Oh, well, b-but," Harry spluttered, once again too horrified to think of a good enough excuse. Normally he could think of a lie in the tightest of situations, but this time Ron knew he wouldn't be capable.

Knowing that he was going to regret what he was about to do but that Harry would probably do the same for him, Ron swallowed his apprehension and cut across his best friend.

"The thing is, Professor," he said with a slight croak, "I-I want to do it."

The reaction was palpable. Dean gasped and began to choke, forcing Seamus to thump him on the back. Lavender miss-threw the note she was passing to Parvati, hitting Neville in the face instead. Hermione looked as though she was going to drag both of them outside the classroom by their ears and perform her own interrogation. The only person that seemed unfazed by Ron's statement was Lockhart, who merely smiled widely.

"Really, Mr Weasley?" he asked, sounding delighted.

"Um, yeah," Ron nodded, trying to muster up some enthusiasm when all he wanted to do was beat himself over the head with a book. "It's my favourite of your books actually. I don't go anywhere without my copy of Banter with-"

"Break with," Harry muttered.

"Break with a Banshee. I just… really… like it," Ron finished lamely.

He kept eye contact with Lockhart and hoped that he didn't realise that Ron hadn't even opened his copy before that lesson. And even then it had only been to scribble a note to Harry in it.

"Well, well, well, Mr Weasley," cried Lockhart jubilantly, "today is your lucky day! Get on up here!"

Even though every fibre of his being was telling him that he would be better off taking on the Cornish Pixies alone and wandless, Ron stood up and walked as slowly as he could get away with towards his teacher. Once there he turned and looked at the still stunned faces of his classmates and found himself half-hoping for another muggleborn attack or anything that would get him out of this lesson. Eventually his eyes found Harry, who mouthed "I owe you", looking as though Ron had just taken a curse for him.

Ron waited until Lockhart went to fetch his banshee wig for him to wear before he silently replied, "big time" with as much venom as he could muster while feeling sick. Harry gulped as Ron saw the revolting wig he was about to put on and came to the conclusion that this act of self-sacrifice could only be repaid with either Harry giving him his Nimbus or saving his or a member of his family's life.

Or possibly finding out that Ravenclaw girl's name.

Yeah, Ron thought, attempting to smile at rather than punch Lockhart, something big like that.