Mans best Friend

Ron rubbed his eyes tiredly, Hermione's furious rant a constant droning in the background. All was well, on the whole, he supposed. Since the war had ended, they hadn't gotten into any big rows, or such.

No one was more surprised at that than Ron.

He could feel such a row drawing closer now, though. Hermione hadn't let this matter go for nigh on two weeks. He had sat through rant after rant after rant, and he loved Hermione with all his heart, and being there for her if something bothered her wasn't even a question, but frankly; he was tired.

Office hours were getting longer and after chasing Death Eaters gone underground all day, he really only wanted some peace when he got home.

Plus, it wasn't even as if he could actually do anything about it.

"...and then he has the gall to tell me I'm wrong! I told him, repeatedly I might add...", Hermione carried on in the background, gesticulating furiously.

This was all Harrys fault.

The git.

Harry had returned from wherever, visiting them for dinner and told some rather gripping stories about his travels. Everything was well until then. Shit only really started to hit the ceiling when he'd gotten to talking about some nomadic tribe he'd met somewhere around Egypt.

They'd taught him some pretty impressive magic, Ron was willing to admit. Those shackles that sprung out of the earth sounded dead useful and that enormous shield to hold of physical objects - developed to hold off sandstorms, which kinda made sense if you were a nomad in Egypt - would come in handy sometime, as well.

Then Harry had gone and said... Ron laid his head back onto the rest of the couch and groaned lowly, the sound unheard over Hermiones still ongoing eruption of righteous indignation.

No, he hadn't really said. More like announced.

Harry had announced, supremely unconcerned as to the devastation that would follow, that he'd learned how to conjure food.

The git.

There'd been silence for all of a second - silence that Ron, as a side note, would really appreciate right about now - before they launched into a discussion about theories of magic that went right over Rons head.

Discussion, Ron thought to note, was in this case really a polite term for 'viciously tearing each other's standpoint to pieces.'

In the end, Harry had conjured a honest to Merlin feast onto their table. Hermione had been struck into dumbfounded silence, which had been a sight to behold.

After that, Harry had offered to teach Hermione, so Ron assumed that he'd won the 'discussion.'

They'd been at it for just over three hours, which Ron used mainly to taste the food Harry'd conjured.

It had tasted heavenly, by the way. Not as good as his mums cooking, but still.

In the end - Ron was still wincing at the recollection - it had turned out that Hermione simply couldn't do it. Harry, seeing Hermiones simmering fury and frazzled hair, had wisely said good night at that point and beaten a hasty retreat.

Leaving him with a furious Hermione that'd just in that very moment spied him eating the food.

The conjured food.

This was all Harrys fault.

The git.

"...are you even listening to me, Ron?!"

Huh.

Lucky he'd tuned back in just now.

Well, here goes nothing. Man, I'm so gonna be confined to the couch for this.

Which would be Harrys fault, as well.

The git.

"Yes. Yes, 'Mione, I've been listening, for two weeks now...", Ron bit out.

Hermione just stared at him, daring him to continue.

"...and I don't really see what the big deal is."

Damn. Looking at Hermiones furious expression, that was the wrong thing to say.

Her voice was deathly calm, however: "Is that so?"

"Hermione, look. I know you hate when I say this, but you haven't really been brought up in the magical world..."

A small growl of anger.

"...but I think it's about time you realised that you won't be able to keep up with Harry. Not anymore, at least."

"Why wouldn't I? I'm every bit as capable of learning as he is.", she retorted snappishly.

"Can you let me talk without interrupting and actually listen to what I say, for once?", Ron snapped back.

Perhaps it was because they hadn't argued in a long time, or maybe he looked more angry than he thought, but Hermione looked bewildered for a second and gave a small nod.

"It's never really been written down, because everyone's brought up knowing this. It's kinda like you know how to use a knife and fork, though you never really read about it."

Hermione opened her mouth, but a glare had her closing it again.

Ron sighed. "I'm bad at analogies. Whatever. What I'm trying to say is: Powerful wizards have a different connection - or relationship - with magic than people like you or me, 'Mione."

Hermione didn't look convinced, so he pressed on.

"D'you really think that every wizard known for being extremely powerful also being known for being smart as all hell was a coincidence? It's not, I tell you."

"So Harry is smarter than me now, because he's powerful? That.. doesn't really make sense to me.", Hermione said with a hint of sadness, head tilted downwards to look at the wand still clutched in her lap.

"He isn't!", Ron retorted with finality. Hermiones head snapped up to look him in the eye. Ron reached over and took her left hand in his two, much bigger ones. Her right hand was still clutching her wand.

"You're smart and you're beautiful and I don't think anyone could ever keep up with you when it comes to learning new things."

She gave him a small smile - the smallest of smiles, really - but replied: "Only Harry?"

Ron smiled and minutely shook his head. "Not even him." Well, now she looked confused.

Good going, Weasley.

Hand still in his, he explained: "Powerful wizards just understand magic differently than we do. It's not about smarts, at all."

He gently pried her wand from her right hand with his left and held it up between them.

"Harry has a fundamentally different understanding of the way magic works and that helps him learn new things fast and easy, no matter how hard these things are."

He put the wand on the table beside them. "But, I bet you a months salary that he's still a dumbass when it comes to history and herbology and other things that have nothing to do with magic."

Hermione gave him an adoring smile at that.

"Besides, I think you can still learn how to conjure food. You'll just be out of luck using Harry's method, I guess. And even if you don't-", he was quick to reassure. "-I'd take your cooking over that mush Harry conjured up, any day."

That got a soft laugh from her. "Liar."

Ron chuckled and gave her a peck on the cheek. "Well, you're learning, aren't you? You'll be just as good as mum in no time."

She sighed. "It's just, I-. Ever since I came to this world I tried to-"

"I know." Ron interrupted softly. "But no matter what you think, you belong here. You've belonged here for a long time now."

A quick kiss on the lips. "Here, with me. Harry and his conjured food can go and f-"

"Ron!", Hermione interrupted in a mock-scandalised whisper.

Ron grinned lopsidedly. "Yeah, well, it's true."

He looked at her, seeing that fire and contentment back in her eyes and expression.

Catastrophe avoided, he patted himself mentally on the back.

When Hermione took his hand, wordlessly pulling him towards the bedroom and Rons fantasies started running away with him, those thoughts flew right out of the window. All thoughts, except one.

This was all Harry's fault.

The git.