The Amazing Ron Weasley

by Icarus

Both Harry and Ron lazily skipped breakfast the next morning. Dean and Seamus threw T-shirts at them and razzed them to try to get them to come to life, but it was useless. Harry and Ron only groaned and opened their eyes briefly. Then they blinked at one another, their eyes met rather muzzily. They nodded, and in the same moment, rolled over. Definitely sleep was far more valuable. They'd been up half the night after all, happily shooting the breeze about the Chudley Canons, the latest pranks against the Slytherins, and other little things.

Now Harry was comfortably stretched out on his bed, robes abandoned for jeans and a T-shirt. The bed was an unmade mess, over-flowing with Ron's magazines as Harry flipped through a back issue of Quidditch Today. Harry sighed contentedly, happier than he'd been in a long time.

Ron had put a Veneer Charm on the window between their beds and tried to use it as a mirror. He wasn't very good at these though, and the thing was still rather see-thru. Ron preened and fussed at his hair, brushing it first one way, then another. He'd abandoned robes for Muggle clothes as well, jeans and a T-shirt that looked a little too small.

"How's this?" Ron asked, squinting at his almost-mirror. He gave his hair a few tentative swipes.

"Huh? Fine," Harry said absently from behind his magazine without looking up. "Look at this rubbish. They say here that the Aegis Arrow formation renders the Flying Tortoise completely ineffective, but looked how bunched up their Chasers are! Way too vulnerable to bludgers. Maybe if you put everyone in armor…"

Ron brushed his hair the other way. "How 'bout this?"

"Fine." Harry glanced up and shrugged. He saw no difference. "I suppose if you had a good Beater defence -- but it would really overwork them. You could only use it late in the game…."

Ron parted his hair on the right, feathery red bangs sliding into his eyes. "Well, what about now?"

"You look ridiculous."

"Yeah." Ron scowled at his tenuous reflection, and mussed his hair irritably.

"But I suppose with the two new dragons we have as Beaters," Harry continued blithely, "we can just cook our opponents and not worry about it."

Ron stood back from the mirror and posed. "All right. How's this look then?"

"It looks the same as always and Ron, you're not listening!" Harry complained and dropped the magazine to his lap.

"Yes I am. Dragons as Beaters. Good idea. You'll need 'em this year," Ron answered, brushing the hair behind his ears.

"With all the injuries… You know, Ron, if you like, you can try for the second string Chaser…" Harry offered gingerly. He didn't want to get Ron's hopes up of course, but he had wanted to be on the Quidditch team for as long as Harry could remember.

"Nah. Half-way through Seventh year? Not much chance of it," Ron said, with careless disinterest. He ran his fingers through his bangs and tousled them a bit. "How's that, eh?" He peered at the 'mirror,' standing sideways.

Ron? Not interested in Quidditch?

"Ron, it looks the same." But Harry glanced up for a moment and realised well, actually, his hair looked a lot better. And that T-shirt was way too small. It rode up a little, revealing a pale flat stomach. Harry blinked.

Ron seemed to think it looked good, too. "Lunchtime! C'mon Harry, I'm starving!" Ron took down the Charm in a shimmer of silvery sparks, and made for the stairs with a… swagger?

Ron took the steps two at a time, and tagged the archway as he jumped the last three. No one else could reach that. If Harry didn't know better he'd say that Ron was showing off. With a devilish grin Ron held the portrait door for Harry bowing in an overly polite courtly gesture. Harry rolled his eyes and cuffed him on the shoulder in disgust, then shoved him through the portrait-hole first. "Wanker. Go on…."

Ron fairly skipped down the corridors. Harry had to hurry to keep up with him as Ron almost flew down the steps. He grabbed the banisters and swung at each turn. Harry followed.

The jeans were too small too, Harry noted. Especially where his thigh met the curve of his… Harry wondered if his eyes might not just burn a hole in the pocket. But at least they were long enough in the leg for a change. When did he get those, Harry wondered.

At the bottom step Harry smirked at him, probably standing a little closer than he should, "Ron, uh, won't those cut off the circulation in your legs?"

"Nah. They stretch out." Ron tossed his hair. "They're okay, right?"

Harry had nothing to say.

Over lunch, Ron ate as eagerly as ever, but he paid as much attention to the people around him as his food, glancing up from his plate as he shovelled it in. Which was definitely unusual. Harry watched as Ron gave a rakish 'I-shagged-Harry-Potter-I-can-have-anyone' smile to a group of Gryffindor fourth years, and Harry was surprised to see that it worked; and just who else grinned back. The fourth year girls giggled, whispered behind their hands; then giggled some more. But there were older girls, too. Harry rolled his eyes and Ron chuckled.

"Hermione, did you want som'more tea?" Ron said. Hermione just nodded blankly.

A group of girls detached themselves from the Ravenclaw table, and Ron hurriedly got up, wiping his mouth. He patted Harry on the back, "See you later." He nodded to Hermione. "All right?"

"Ron, you haven't finished lunch!" Harry complained.

"I'll nick something from the house-elves," Ron said as he tossed his napkin to his plate "Hey… Miranda, wait up!"

But Ron turned as Hermione answered weakly, "Um, see you…"

Ron paused uncertainly. He walked backwards a few steps. Then finally trotted after the Ravenclaw girls with a last glance over his shoulder.

Hermione commented, "Ron looks different somehow…did he change his hair or…?"

Ron had caught up with Miranda right under the Great Hall archway. Her friends made a half circle around him as they chatted. Ron leaned a forearm against the doorjamb, and that T-shirt rode up a little more. Then from the Great Hall entrance Ron aimed a brilliant smile - that smile - at Harry as he left.

Oh, wow… Harry dropped his fork and had to scrabble for it.

Harry ploughed into his lunch with renewed focus. He decided that if Ron Weasley discovering girls had been bad, it was nothing compared to a Ron Weasley who had discovered sex.

Harry shook his head. For some reason, he felt just a little pleased with himself. He wondered just how he'd look in a pair of those jeans. He grinned rakishly at the spot Ron had last left.

Finis. Next: 'Between Friends.'