Title: Strange Bedfellows: A Comedy of Assumptions
Author: Mad Maudlin
Email: mekamorph@yahoo.com
Catergory: Humor, and a little romance
Keywords: Ron Weasley, Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, Harry Potter, slash, 5th year
Rating: PG-13.
Spoilers: Teensy ones for Book Four, microscopic one for Book Two
Summary: Murder, mayhem, madness and Malfoy! Harry and Hermione face down an unexpected conspiracy, a possible nefarious plot, wild rumors and much, much worse to save their best friend from a terrible fate...right?

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

In other words, they're not mine; talk to the nice Scottish lady.

A/N: WARNING! WARNING! WARNING! This fic contains SLASH (male-on-male) SITUATIONS! Boys kiss boys! Boys do a lot more than kiss boys! It's SLASH! If this is the sort of thing that might offend you, do not read any further! I have a right to speak freely, but you have a right not to listen. So exercise your "Back" button! Bill put 'em there for something...

Strange Bedfellows:

A Comedy of Assumptions

by Mad Maudlin

2 / The Unexpected Conspiracy

Ron inhaled his dinner like a vacuum cleaner, which was nothing new. He did not, however, take any second helpings, prompting Hermione to ask again if he were feeling well. "I'm fine," he said, scraping his plate clean. "I just need to get to the library. For, er, something."

"Anything I can help you with?" she asked-in Harry's opinion, rather too eagerly.

"No!" Ron said; then, more calmly, "No. I just need to, er, look something up. Should only take a minute." And he darted out of the Great Hall before they could ask any more questions.

"What is it with him?" Hermione asked, obviously fuming. "This morning he was dead on his feet, then he gets into a brawl with Malfoy and suddenly he's Mr. Energy."

"Maybe it's the adrenaline rush," Harry suggested. "You know, the whole fight-or-flight thing."

Hermione shook her head and picked sullenly at her broccoli.

Some time later they left the Great Hall, with every intention of returning to Gryffindor Tower. However, the moment that Harry put his foot on the first step to head upstairs, he heard someone behind him say, "Pssst!"

They both froze. Without turning his head, Harry said, "Hermione, did somebody just say 'pssst'?" She nodded, brow furrowed.

A gravelly voice from the same general direction asked anxiously, "Did I pronounce it wrong?"

Harry slowly turned around. There, trying unsuccessfully to hide in the shadows, were Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. He thought they looked strangely naked without Malfoy standing before them in all his ferret-faced gory; he then pushed that thought violently out of his head, before he could be traumatized by the image of Crabbe and Goyle naked. Hermione swallowed very hard beside him. "Can we help you?" she asked evenly.

Goyle nudged Crabbe's arm, apparently indicated he was supposed to speak. Crabbe just stared at him. Goyle tried to nudge him again, but when Crabbe didn't get the hint, Goyle just punched him. Crabbe blinked rapidly and turned to Harry and Hermione. "Where's your Weasley friend?"

"What do you want Ron for?" Harry asked.

Crabbe looked at the ceiling, apparently feigning innocence. "Oh, no reason."

"But Vince," Goyle said, "I thought we were going to beat him up..."

"You're not supposed to say that out loud!" Crabbe said harshly.

Goyle sulked. "I like it better when Draco makes the plans." Crabbe punched him.

Harry caught Hermione's eye, and she nodded. This was really happening. "Um...'Vince'..." she prompted, interrupting a furious shoving match. "Why do you want to beat up Ron?"

"Oh, no reason."

"But I thought-"

"Greg, shut up!"

Harry sighed. "Look, we're not going to let you beat up Ron unless you have a good reason to do it. If you can explain yourselves, maybe we'll tell you."

They blinked at him, apparently taking a moment to work out what he was saying. Then, before Crabbe could stop him, Goyle grunted, "Draco's going mad."

"You weren't supposed to say that!"

"Ow! Quit hitting me! Draco never hits me!"

"Gentlemen," Hermione said sharply, although Harry felt she was stretching the definition too much. "What do you mean, Malfoy's going mad?"

Crabbe said, "He doesn't come back to the dormitory when it's lights out. He keeps telling us not to follow him and when we try he shouts at us."

"And he keeps writing funny notes and he won't let us look and he threatened to knot my arms behind my head," Goyle said, sounding on the verge of tears. "And he told us not to help him when he gets in fights with Weasley, and we asked him which Weasley, and he called us something with lots of syllables and asked which Weasley did we think."

"And he talks in his sleep all about Weasley," Crabbe added in a hush, "and all the things he wants to do to him, and they're gross."

Hermione nodded slowly. "Anything else?"

Goyle leaned in closer, allowing both Gryffindors to get a good whiff of him, and whispered, "He takes too many showers. Many too many showers." Harry didn't have the stomach to ask Goyle to define that further.

He and Hermione shared another look, then looked at the openly worried pair of Slytherins. "So let me get this straight: Malfoy seems to be going mad, and you think that beating up Ron will solve it."

"Exactly." Crabbe punched Goyle. "I told you they would understand it."

Hermione buried her face in her hands.

Harry tried to look genuinely contrite as he said, "I'm sorry, but I don't think that's a good enough reason. Violence doesn't solve anything."

Goyle's jaw went slack.

"But," Hermione said, looked up, "if you can give us some more evidence that Ron's driving Malfoy insane, we might change our minds."

"Evidence?" Crabbe said blankly.

"You know," Harry said quickly, cottoning on, "proof. Other things that Malfoy says or does."

Crabbe nodded slowly. "And if we do, will you let us beat him up?"

"Of course," said Harry as he crossed his fingers behind his back.

Crabbe nodded. "Okay. Come on, Greg, we have to go get evidence." He grabbed Goyle by the arm and started pulling him in the direction of the dungeons.

Goyle said blankly, "Vince, Potter said that violence-"

"I know what he said, Greg."

"But he said-"

"I know, Greg."

"I'm confused."

"Come on. We have to find some evidence."

"Okay..."

Harry and Hermione watched them thunder down towards their common room in dull amazement. Finally, he asked, "Hermione, did we just recruit Crabbe and Goyle to spy on Malfoy?"

"I don't want to think about it, Harry. We need to talk to Ron."