Disclaimer: the usual.

A/N: Once again, thank you so so much for all the support! Oh my gosh, 42 reviews! I cannot tell you how excited I am :)

Alrighty, I've a few bits of info that should be helpful and/or useful (hopefully both). One, a reviewer asked when this is being written. I'd say Ron starts writing this the winter after the Battle of Hogwarts as that summer would be one of much grief and probably not a lot of humor. However, I wouldn't necessarily say it's written at Christmas as the family would be dealing with the fact that it's their first Fred-less Christmas. Thus, Ron probably starts writing this in January of '99.

Also, I hope the transition to the anecdote is smoother than last time ;)

Guide to Commentary (who's who):

Hermione

Harry

Ginny

[This chapter was revamped on February 15, 2010]

You aren't seriously writing about this, are you?

It's my duty, Harry; they need to be warned.

Your du—You know what? Never mind. You've clearly lost it. Go on, if you must...

Huh, I didn't think he'd give up so— WHAT IN EFFING HELL? WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT A BROOM'S LENGTH APART AT ALL TIMES?!

...

And they just carry on. Typical.

Granted, they probably weren't paying too much attention to what I was writing as their faces are rather... occupied at the moment— ugh.

Hang on a tic, I need to scourge my eyeballs and use a memory charm on myself... you know, eradicate all possibility of mental scarring and all that.

...

Lesson Two: He Might Fall in Love With Your Sister

To be perfectly honest, I never saw it coming.

Then again, Hermione has always said that I 'have a knack for complete and utter ignorance of the patently obvious.'

I like to think of that as a compliment; in a roundabout way, she's calling me unique (I haven't actually gotten around to looking up 'patently' yet, but I'm sure it means something along the lines of 'adorable' and 'funny')...'course, she might've actually been insulting me, which would mean that I just proved her point there.

You did.

Oh. Well, then. Passing over that...

The thing is, I don't think my mate's disturbing romantic sentiments for my younger sister quite qualify as 'obvious'. You see (or rather, don't see, depending on your location and eyesight), Harry operates in two different states: painfully transparent and irritatingly guarded.

Examples:

a) Cho Chang – Pathetically Blatant (as well as blatantly pathetic—Hey!)

b) Ginny – Really Sneaky (Hermione disagrees, but we can't all be Little Miss Observant)

This is why I recommend CONSTANT VIGILANCE (shout that bit out to achieve maximum effect) so you aren't crept up on unawares and find yourself watching your best mate spontaneously snog your sister in front of a hundred people or so.

Or, you know, any of the other times they got up to... that as well.

Spring, 1997

The match is over. We won. It's impossible for me to stand in one place for more than three seconds at a time — I probably look like some sort of caffeinated pixie (the closest comparison to a pixie I'll ever get) — I can't wipe off the (probably mad-looking) grin that keeps spreading across my face. We won.

Though the common room is full of excited babble, bad dancing (no, not mine, thank you), and various foodstuffs nicked from the kitchens, the party hasn't truly begun yet; everyone's sort of milling about near the entrance, eyes darting every so often towards the resolutely shut portrait hole (though there was that one false alarm with a very panicked looking first year, who seemed rather perturbed to have the entire contents of Gryffindor Tower shouting at him) as we wait to obnoxiously scream the results of the match at our unknowing Captain.

My eyes flick from Ginny, who's chattering to me about the game, how kick-arse my last save was, and did I see the look on Chang's face? to the portrait hole, where from Harry should soon emerge. Any minute now. Really, it shouldn't be too long. I hope. Harry doesn't know about the match yet, and I want to be the one to tell him (thereby asserting my natural rights of best mate-ship).

As if on cue (or because I'm just that magical... ha, right), the portrait hole creaks open, and the room falls silent. It has to be him. I mean, everyone else in Gryffindor is already here.

The silence doesn't last long. Shouts and cheers erupt as Harry steps (more like is yanked forcibly) into the room. His face turns from a resigned expression (did he doubt us or something?) to elated bemusement.

"We won!" I yell excitedly, brandishing the silver cup. "We won! Four hundred and fifty to a hundred and forty! We won!"

I dimly register Ginny leaving my side. She runs towards him, probably to give him a hug; I'll never understand why girls have a compulsive need to do th—

What in the names of Merlin and pumpkin juice?

Either Harry's a really bad hugger and missed the appropriate, pre-designated over-the-shoulder spot for his face, or my best mate is kissing my little sister.

In front of everyone.

Kissing.

Sister.

Harry.

I feel like I've taken a club to the head.

...

Merlin, how long are they going to stay like that? From experience, I know you need to resurface for air sometime, and this is getting rather uncomfortable.

Harry pulls away (finally), beaming. I've never seen Harry smile like that, it's weird... and kind of depressing, really (that I've never seen him do that). He looks right at me, over Ginny's shoulder (oh, now he figures out the proper hug-head position, great). I can't work out his expression... it's like he's asking my permission or something.

Well, what else am I supposed to do? I'll look like the world's biggest arse if I refuse, especially in front of everyone. So I nod weakly (I'm still in a state of shock, I'm going to have to have quite a bit of that spiked punch before I recover).

They leave through the portrait hole; I notice their hands are intertwined. Hermione turns to me, grinning her face off.

"Isn't it wonderful?" she gushes. I blink at her.

The words "What just happened?" pour out of my mouth. I almost wish I hadn't said it, because I can see Hermione working up a classic know-it-all genius look (she's probably got a patent on it, I swear).

"Harry and Ginny kissed," explains Hermione patiently. I typically would've found her patronizing tone offensive, but I see the corners of her mouth twitching.

"Yeah, I got that part," I quip sarcastically, unable to contain an eye roll (I may not be many things, but I'm always consistent). "What I want to know is why."

Hermione quirks an eyebrow. "Harry fancies her — and apparently, she fancies him right back."

Pardon, what? I ask her to repeat it, she obliges slightly impatiently.

I would vehemently deny her absurd statement, tell her she's inhaled too many potions fumes, but I just saw with my own eyes them... yeah, so I'm a bit uncertain (I thought Ginny was over him, for one, not to mention the whole 'Harry fancies Ginny' bit). I demand, "Since when?"

"All year practically." I can tell from Hermione's wistful expression that she thinks this is all very bloody romantic. Girls.

"Why didn't he—" My stomach twinges with this information. My own best mate can't do me the service of telling me he's got the hots for my sister?

"—Tell you?" Hermione finishes. Her demeanor has transitioned into one of barely-restrained frustration. I dunno what her problem is; she's not the one who was slighted here (you know, besides Dean and Romilda). "You're her brother. Harry was probably intimidated by your less-than-supportive treatment of her relationships; he probably thought you'd do the same to him."

I'll admit, I do have a track-record... but what does she expect? Ginny's my little sister. It's practically the law for me to be an over-protective moron.

Hermione eyes me critically. "I will not allow you to do the same to them. Harry will be happy with Ginny. You want Harry to be happy, don't you?" she adds, her lovely eyes shooting challenging daggers at me.

That is hardly fair: of course I want Harry to be happy! Just, I'd have rather preferred him being happy with someone not related to me.

Hermione's still staring at me expectantly. I sigh and acquiesce, "Fine, I won't bother them about it." She smiles with satisfaction at my response... she looks pretty when she does that. I continue, "But they better keep the... physical stuff," my mouth twists into a grimace — I feel a bit ill (bad mental images, bad), "to themselves, I don't want to see that... it'll put me off my food."

She rolls her eyes at that last part, but doesn't retort. On some level, she understands the gravity of my actions: I've just broken the older brother code of law. Bill and the twins are going to give me absolute hell for this.

For the sake of maintaining my image (What image?—Harry, you're just miffed that I'm discussing your love life in an all-accessible publication, and you know it), I will add that, after they began going out, I did start notice.

One would hope so.

Yes, thanks for the sentiment. Not. I meant that I noticed how my friend — you; no, not you-you, but Harry-you. Thanks for clearing that up, mate, for a second there I was completely befuddled by your remarkable use of syntax... Don't you have anything better to do (that doesn't involve Ginny's lips)?— anyway, how my friend (Harry) acted around her — my sister, I mean.

This includes, but isn't limited to: smiling like a madman whenever she's within three meters of him (and an awful lot when she's not, too); blushing; at times, being unable to speak coherently in her presence (that one's my favorite, pretty bloody hilarious if you ask me — just picture it: one minute you can't get him to shut up about Quidditch, and the next his jaw's all hanging open simply because Ginny's walked in sporting a low-cut tee shirt) — oh yeah, this is also often paired with the aforementioned blushing, and talking about her all the time — I can't get him to shut up.

However, as I said before, it's always a good thing to predict this sort of thing (learn from my mistake). For this reason, I've — AHEM — I mean, Hermione and I have compiled a list.

How to Tell if Your Best Mate is Falling for Your Sister - a Diagnostic Test (some data provided by Hermione 'I'm-Too-Sharp-for-My-Own-Good' Granger):

(1) He begins to stare at her, all the time — and not, might I add, because she's got jam on her face.

(2) Aforementioned staring leads to many Bludger-induced Quidditch injuries (even more conspicuous when said best mate plays Seeker, and is thus supposedly more watchful than the rest of us)

(3) He needs to talk to/laugh with/casually touch her constantly, which gets really bloody annoying. (I dunno, I can't say I minded all that much— When the hell did you get here? Wait, never mind. I don't really care.)

(4) He's always asking really subtle (i.e. obvious) questions about her and her current relationship.

(5) etc., etc., etc.

Of course, then, after 'finally' getting her, he'll probably be a noble prat and break it off with her. I say 'probably' assuming that he suffers from a hero complex like most saviors-of-the-world (I can only guess, I haven't met too many).

Another annoying part of that, besides the heartbreak and whatever, is that he's the only one in the world who can get away with the line, 'Sorry, I have to hop around the country looking for bits of You-Know-Who's soul — oh yeah, and a squad of chic-ly dressed psychopaths will terrorize everyone I care about, not to mention the strong possibility that all of this just might kill me. So you understand where I'm coming from when I say I can't really have a girlfriend right now.'

I did not say it like that at all.

It's called paraphrasing, Harry — like what we did with Divination homework, remember?

That's what I did with Divination homework. What you did is called 'copying directly from the textbook', Ron.

Yeah, well, like she knew the difference.

That is so not the point.

You did WHAT?

Um... baked you cookies?

I'M NOT AN IDIOT, RON—

Damn.

See what I meant about not having a credible 'I didn't do it, I swear' look?

—EVERYONE KNOWS YOU CAN'T BAKE.

(note to self: learn how to bake)

ONCE AGAIN, DO NOT INSULT MY INTELLIGENCE.

I wouldn't dream of it. When will you stop talking in ALL CAPS?

WHEN YOU STOP BEING AN IGNORAMUS.

So more or less never, then.

I will retaliate wittily later... after I've gotten my hands on a dictionary.

Oh, and, Harry? I've no idea what you see in her — Ginny, that is —, I really don't.

I thought this whole chapter was about you 'seeing' exactly that.

Chapter? What is he on about? ... Oh! Bugger, I completely— I mean... sorry you had to read all that. Harry tried to sidetrack me, being the inconsiderate bloke that he... well, isn't... and I suppose I got distracted a bit.

Moving right along, then.

(Pay attention, Harry, this will probably be one of the few times I'll ever say this.)

I guess I haven't got much reason to complain much (besides the snogging), and neither should you. If your mate is anything like Harry, then you probably haven't seen him really happy too often, and, if your sister (urgh) makes him happy, than so be it.

However, it should be duly noted by involved parties that snogging does not necessarily equate with happiness. I'm sure you two can find bliss and all that in a strictly meter's-distance-apart relationship... it's not like it's long distance (though feel free give that one a try as well).

Thanks, mate.

No problem. Get me a sandwich, will you?

No.

There's a good lad. Wait, what? You ungrateful little—

A/N: This chapter's not up to my usual standards (I don't think), but school's started again and I've been swamped, which overall has left me very little free time to write — I'm probably going to try to tighten it up more later, but I wanted to get this out for you all who've been so patiently waiting (I'm really sorry about that, but it can't be helped). Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless; don't forget to tell me what you think ;)!

Once again, tell me what you think of the changes! Anything I missed?