Warnings: ...Ron's stupidity...language

Disclaimer: I only own the plot, so...please don't steal it, OH! and the original characters, those are mine too, so please don't steal them either!

To answer a question asked in the review: All will make much more sense by the end of the story, I promise!

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Chapter 4: Wizarding Bachelor

Harry swallowed and watched the flashing lights of the cameras. He was not ready for a press release, but the band's manager thought it would be a good idea. After all, the Marauders hadn't performed live any place, excluding Hermione's and Draco's wedding, and the Wizarding community was getting a tad antsy to hear from the hottest new band.

Draco, back from his honeymoon, gave Harry an encouraging smile. Harry groaned and nodded; he stepped into the flashing lights and answered the barrage of questions. His mind kept wandering away, though, and he was forced to ask the interviewer to repeat questions.

Draco watched his best friend, wincing as Harry floundered for answers to questions he obviously hadn't heard. Draco knew where Harry's mind really was, and Draco wanted to beat the ginger git. A thought suddenly occurred to him, and Draco became even more annoyed with Ron. Where the bloody hell is that sodding prick? Draco thought to himself.

Harry's manager finally stepped in, much to Harry's relief. He resisted the urge to hide behind the intimidating man, but he did disappear behind a pair of pitch-black sunglasses. He could feel his heart racing, and he thought about the last question that he'd been asked before his manager stepped in.

"So, Harry, do you have any lovers?"

Harry had to stop himself from cringing. He only wished. Hell, he was still a fucking virgin. He couldn't bring himself to sleep with anyone. He had this, in his opinion, foolish notion that his feelings would be returned one day, and Harry wanted to loose his virginity to him. Oh bloody hell, I'm sodding pathetic!

The next day, Harry sat on the couch in his flat, reading over lyrics he'd wrote earlier. Ron stumbled in, his clothes in disarray, holding a copy of one of the many magazines of the Wizarding world. Harry tried in vain to ignore his friend.

"Harry, they're calling you the sexiest new Wizarding bachelor of this century. They're speculating that you've had billions of partners," Ron slurred.

Harry swallowed back his growl. Ron was drunk yet again, and Harry was incredibly unhappy about the fact. He stood and walked between the front door and the coffee table, agitated.

Ron watched him; his mind was too hazy to understand that Harry was angry. He merely kept blathering on about Harry's sexual exploits, which had been put in the magazine courtesy of witches who felt the need to lie about being with Harry. Ron's words stuck in his throat when he saw the quote from his sister, and then his vision went red.

"Now what," Harry grumbled when he realized that Ron had stopped rambling on about what a bunch of witches had claimed to have done with him. Ron handed him the magazine, and Harry quickly scanned it. "Bloody fucking hell, what is wrong with your sodding sister?"

"You mean you didn't fuck her?" Ron demanded angrily. He didn't know what bothered him more: the fact that Harry had supposedly lied about sleeping with Ginny, or the fact that Ginny had fucked his Harry.

"No, I didn't fuck your goddamned sister!" Harry spat. He spun on his heel and stormed towards his bedroom, believing that Ron's anger was directed at him. Harry stopped just before the door and turned to glare at Ron, who was staring at him with a shocked expression. "And why the fuck do you always have to come back to the flat pissed out of your fucking mind? If you dislike living with me so fucking much, you can move out!"

Harry flew into his room and slammed the door behind him, casting a multitude of charms to keep Ron out. He wiped at his eyes furiously and hurled the magazine from him. "What a bunch of fucking lies," he howled furiously. He dropped onto his bed and buried his face in the pillow, grateful that he no longer needed the glasses from his youth.

Ron tried to talk to him through the door, but Harry wanted no part in listening to his friend just yet. He waved his hand at the CD player, turning it on, and then turned the volume up until all could hear was the screaming of new demo CD. Harry could feel the tears burning in his eyes, and he cursed under his breath as he buried his face even further into his pillow.

Distraught, Ron went to the fireplace. He couldn't figure out why Harry was suddenly so angry, not counting the obvious fact that Ron was once again drunk, but he knew that Hermione could help. He felt bad for even bothering her, but Ron was desperate.