I hadn't intended this to be more than a one-shot deal, but the responses to Chapter 1 were so kind, and, like Lady Rose, I am a Ron ho at heart, I had to let him tell his side of the story. I'm thinking of continuing from here, but with third person POV for the remainder, but I'm not sure.

Title: A Sympathetic Ear, Chapter 2

Author: RavynFayre

Pairing: Harry/Ron

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling owns these boys, not me - which will be quite obvious once you starting reading!

Summary: Harry has a sympathetic ear, and a possible solution, for Ron's disastrous dating life.

Category: Angst/Romance

"She said no, as usual," I tell him, as I enter our room. He's lying on his bed reading Quidditch Through the Ages for like the 900th time. I know he has that thing memorized to the point he could recite it verbatim in his sleep. I wonder if he's even listening to me, he hears me complain so often.

I'd been out two nights earlier with a girl from Ravenclaw. I thought everything went okay. At least as okay as they ever do for me. When I asked her out again during lunch today, she looked at me like I was belching slugs.

It's safe to say my dating life leaves a great deal to be desired. Merlin knows, it's not for lack of trying. I've come to the realization that my technique needs a bit of adjustment.

"I've been thinking about this all afternoon, and I've finally figured out what I'm doing wrong," I say. He insists it's not me, but the girls. That's really only half true, because ultimately, the fault does lie with me. It's all in the choices we make.

I did what was expected of me, so I thought I was on the right track. That's not to say I didn't have a good time. I usually did. It wasn't all horrible. But there was always something missing, though I couldn't have explained exactly what the something was. Having dispatched over half the female student population, though, I know none of them had it.

I just hope I can connect with the one who does have it before that person finds someone else.

"At this rate, I'm going to grow old and die alone like some dried up old Snape. I wonder if I'll ever find the right person."

The ever-sympathetic Harry tries to be positive for my benefit. I swear he says these things without even thinking most of the time. I know he cares, though, so I'm sure he's being sincere.

"I just don't want to die without . . . you know." I hope I don't sound like I'm whining, but really, is it so wrong for someone my age to want something that even in the smallest way resembles a sex life? I don't think it's too much to ask.

I usually hesitate to say things like that around him. Sometimes he embarrasses me so. He once told me that if I were still a virgin when I reached eighteen, that he would have sex with me. He chuckled like he was joking, but I saw the look in his eyes and his knowing smile. It made me shiver. The boy was bloody serious.

"Maybe if I didn't look so much like a Weasley . . .," I wonder, assessing my reflection in the mirror. He doesn't think plastic surgery is appropriate. What's wrong with wanting to improve my odds a little? "Or, I could just fall of my broom accidentally on purpose. Maybe once Pomfrey was finished with me, I'd look better. Different, at the very least. Couldn't hurt, could it?" Hasn't everybody, at one time or another, wanted to change their looks, if only for a little while?

I don't know why I bother asking him for advice, anyway. He hasn't had a date in six months. All he can do is criticize me for who I choose to date. I know, I know. Some of them were a little too young. Okay, a lot too young. He lectured me about it more than once, making liberal use of the word "pervert", as I recall.

"What about the new robes Mum and Dad got me? Are they okay?"

He thinks I need a haircut. When the boy with the most uncooperative hair ever says someone needs a haircut, it's a serious matter. "My hair! I knew it. I look like some hippie freak."

He's trying not to laugh at me. He thinks all of this is quite amusing. He probably thinks I'm doing this just to make him laugh. I'm not, of course. That would be ridiculous. This is serious. I don't want to make a mess of this one.

"Okay, the jeans are a given. They're the only pants I have that are clean. What about the shirt?" He reminds me about the one Mum got me last Christmas. "Right! The black shirt. I forgot about that. I was afraid when she gave it to me it would make me look like a vampire, but you're right. It should look good." I can feel his eyes on me as I peel off my t-shirt and slide into the dress shirt. A quick check in the mirror tells me to leave open the top two buttons. Definitely not wearing a tie tonight.

I don't tell him who I'm going out with anymore, at least not in advance. I stopped shortly after the "pervert" lectures. I certainly don't want him to talk me out of this one, though I doubt he'd try.

"Mind if I snag some of your cologne?" I like this stuff. It smells good on him. Now I know what I can get him next Christmas.

I'm ready, I think. I do a quick turn, hoping he'll give me his honest opinion. "Okay. What do you think? Please tell me I don't look too desperate." He smiles at me, and I smile back.

I really did think about this all afternoon, and I'm pretty sure I'm doing the right thing. He's not the subtlest creature on the planet. His hints are like sledgehammers. I can't possibly have been reading the signs wrong all this time. I know I can be a little thick sometimes, and astonishingly slow to pick up on things, but if I'm wrong about this, I'll kill myself.

And if he says no, I'll kill him.

After all, today is March 1. My birthday.

I'm eighteen.

"Aren't you going to change?" He could at least put on a fresh shirt and some shoes.

The bastard actually had the nerve to look surprised.

~*~*~*~*~* THE END ~*~*~*~*~*