(A/N) : Yay, this is some more fluff I wanted to get off my chest. I know it's been done to death, but this is my take on the "Harry sets Herm and Ron up out of exasperation" fic idea, and I'd like to know if it's any good and if they're in character. Well, at the end they maybe get O.O.C., but that was in an effort to make it funny.

Colloportus and its Uses

By Chron

"—and we started rowing again," confessed Hermione in a breathy sob. "This house – well, you have to admit it, Harry, it's never been very cheerful. I think – well, I know Ron used to like me, and I liked him too, in the back of my head, but we keep giving each other the cold shoulder; we're nervous, afraid of each other now. Every time I see him I want to hide – it's so awkward, you must know what it's like – " She stopped and mopped her face with her sleeve. "I don't know what to do! There must be a way to get us to talk it out, but, I'm so confused, Harry."

Harry gave her another hug and patted her on the shoulder. He had nothing helpful to tell his friend – hugging was already pushing the amount of comfort he was capable of giving. His stomach was already in knots thinking about what he had to do still – find the horcruxes, kill Snape, kill Voldemort. Bill and Fleur's wedding was in two days, and the trio had apparated away from Hogsmeade to London in order to give the Weasleys more space. Dumbledore's death was still fresh in everyone's mind, and although everyone seemed to make peace with it fairly quickly, it had done nothing to lighten the mood at number 12, Grimmauld Place.

Suddenly Harry and Hermione could hear footsteps in the hall around the corner. The order members never came up to their rooms, so the two friends knew it was Ron. "Oh, I can't face him," whispered Hermione, turning to run.

"The broom closet," suggested Harry in a low voice. "We got rid of the other boggart ages ago." She dashed inside and pulled the door shut quietly. Harry leaned against the wall and tried to look bored.

Ron rounded the corner as expected. "Hullo, Harry," he said in a depressed voice. "Hermione's still avoiding me."

Harry fixed him with a no-nonsense look.

"Alright, alright. I'm avoiding her, too. It's so bad between us. I mean, the Lavender thing, it doesn't get much worse than that. But this is different. We should be friends now, right? I mean, I was hoping for … you know, more than friends! But we're either rowing about some stupid thing or just not talking! I can't look her in the face, even."

Harry avoided looking at the broom closet, and gave Ron a sympathetic punch in the shoulder. Then he had a sudden inspiration.

"Look, mate," he said in a bracing voice, "you sound awful. I could do a cheering charm on you if you like – might smooth things over if you're not so bloody depressed for a bit."

"If you like," said Ron, unconvinced. Harry pulled out his wand and quickly performed a nonverbal footsteps charm that he'd learned from Fred and George (they were developing it for their defense section.) Around the same corner Ron had just turned, footsteps seemed to be approaching.

Ron blanched. "Must be Hermione," he said, eyes wide. "What do I do?"

Fighting back a laugh, Harry said as seriously as he could, "Quick, into the broom closet!" Without hesitation, Ron threw himself in, eyes shut tight.

"Colloportus!" shouted Harry as fast as he could. He could hear Ron's shout of surprise and Hermione's squeak of embarassment.

"Alright, you two," he said, pointing his wand at the door. "You are NOT coming out of there until you figure out this bloody relationship problem, it's enough to drive anyone mad."

"Let us out, you git!" came Ron's muffled voice.

"It's not funny, Harry," said Hermione shrilly though the heavy door.

"And it's not a joke," said Harry. "Look, Hermione, you like Ron. Ron, you like Hermione. WHY is there a problem here?"

He could hear them talking, but not what they were saying. They seemed to be shouting at each other, but it appeared that somebody had put a muffliato spell on him, because all he could hear was loud, indistinct buzzing noises. He sat against the wall opposite the closet and waited. Exactly what he was waiting for, he didn't know. Locking his two best friends in a closet with each other had seemed to be a good idea at the time, but it certainly hadn't been very well thought out.

He waited. And waited. The buzzing went up and down, sometimes disappearing altogether. Harry wondered if Ron and Hermione were having verbal spars and silent fights by turns. It got very boring staring at the decorative snake wallpaper that was stuck permanently to the wall, and Harry began to fall asleep.

When he woke up, his watch informed him that an hour and a half had elapsed. Surely that was punishment enough for Ron and Hermione, regardless of whether or not they had made up. He performed the counterspell without speaking. Ever since the night of Dumbledore's death, which had only been a week ago, he had been practicing nonverbal spells. The door swung slowly open while he rubbed sleep out of his eyes.

Harry froze.

"I should've seen this coming," he muttered to himself, bright red. "Um, hello?" he added loudly, trying not to stare. "Please, please stop right there."

Hermione stopped tugging Ron's boxers. Ron rolled Hermione's camisole back down. They both looked hot and sweaty and were blushing very, very hard.

"So… I see you've worked out your differences?" said Harry into the silence.

There was a mumbled "yes" from them both.

"Right. I'll be going then," said Harry, sprinting down the passageway to lock himself in his and Ron's room.

There was a very pregnant pause.

"Well," said Ron quietly, "I hope your room is clean, because he's not letting me in after that, let alone both of us."

Gathering up the pile of discared garments, they walked down the hall towards Hermione's room, grinning at each other.

"Why didn't you say you actually had a pygmy puff tattoo?"

"Well, up until now I didn't feel like proving it."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

There was a pause.

"I think it's cute. Real men like pygmy puffs."

"…Thanks. I think."

Another pause as Hermione fumbled at the door handle.

"I have to ask. Does Harry really have a Hungarian Horntail on his chest?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Well, not on his chest. You'd have to ask Ginny if there's one anywhere else."

"How do you feel about… them?"

"I try not to think about it."

The door swung closed.

One room over, Harry had performed a Stunning Spell on himself.