Many thanks to French-Lo for helping fix the broken French in this one :-)


"Well, I'm not telling him!"

"You're his best friend!"

Ron sputtered before he found his tongue. "You are too!"

"Well, yes, Ronald," causing said person to wince; it was never good when she took his given name, "But, as you can clearly see, I am a GIRL!"

"Whaa… ? Of course you are, what has that got to do with anything?"

"Well, this is a guy thing!"

Ron wrinkled his nose, "Eesh! No, a guy thing would be to sleep with other GIRLS! Since it's about other guys, it's clearly a GIRL thing!"

"Ronald Bilius Weasley! I cannot believe you!"

"It's true you know!" Oh oh, not one of his brightest ideas, judging by the way her hair crackled and her wand shot sparks.

"You will talk to him, he has to know." Ron gulped at the low dangerous tone of his crazy witch of a wife.

"Alright, Alright! I'll try, right?"

"That's better Ronniekins!" Hermione smiled so sweetly, Ron was confused.

"Err…"

"I'll go put some tea on, shall I?"

"Umm…"

"Eloquent as always love, I'll be in the kitchen."

"Nggh… Right…"

And Ronald Bilius Weasley ran as fast as his long legs would carry him before he remembered he could always just apparate.

He smacked his head, too hard, and ended up dizzy for a minute. Once he was sure he'd not splinch some very important parts of his, he figured this kind of conversation needed some serious liquor.

Once Ron landed somewhat less than elegantly on the apparition platform at Diagon Alley, he decided to aimlessly wander about, preparing his opening statement. He learned that from `Mione, "Opening Statement", "Have been Corpses" and other big words. Although he didn't understand how "Have Been Corpses" had any legal meaning, he figured it was something lawyer-y and left it well alone.

He had to go any marry a know-it-all. Briefly he wondered what ancient demon of La-La land had possessed him to pop the question.

Briefly, the thought flashed that it was Snape who called her that first- "Know-it-all." Never thought he'd use it himself.

Well atleast his feet knew where he was supposed to go at this time. The Cauldron seemed so crowded these days, what with that idiot of a fudge opening it up to Muggle tourists.

Muggles!

They were annoying, ooh-ing and aah-ing and generally being all tourist-y.

Well the muggles were shocked to be part of the war with old Voldie, and the prime minister and Fudge thought it was a good time to show them that Magic was not all bad.

It was by far, the most infuriating thing that had ever happened to the Magical Community.

He learned that word from 'Mione too. Infuriating. She used it a lot when he did something like make her a surprise dinner.

Well, the nerve! HE went through all that trouble to make her such a nice table setting, and she called him Infuriating?

Well, there was the small matter of burning most of the kitchen, but come on! He tried, didn't he? There was also the small matter of not listening to her warning of "Never try to cook here, Ronald," but COME ON!

It was with these thoughts in his head that Ron entered the Cauldron, saw that it was choking with muggles and walked right through the barrier into the muggle side.

But hey, with the portal always open these days, there were no sides anymore, were they?

Ron was so surprised with this suddenly intelligent thought that he thought up all by himself, that he tripped over his own feet and landed smack on his face.

Groaning with pain and annoyance, Ron was more embarrassed when he heard someone laughing in front of his temporarily mud blinded eyes.

Oh! He had died and gone to heaven.

Surely none could be as pure as this being and not be an Angel?

Since Ron had no idea he even knew to form such sentences, he figured, what the heck, it was there, so let it.

Blonde and Beautiful. And her laughter was like tiny bells in the Summer breeze.

While Ron was bewildered and pleasantly surprised at this side of him he never knew of, the blonde haired bonnie only giggled and helped him wipe the dirt off his face.

Ron Was in heaven. A beautiful woman touched him. Voluntarily! Well not that Hermione was not beautiful, but well, not THIS beautiful.

"Ummm… Thank you," Ron stammered, lost in icy grey eyes. Weirdly she reminded him of Narcissa.

Not that he hadn't a crush on her as well. There was not one non-gay boy who didn't have fantasies about Malfoy's Mom.

The gay ones had fantasies about Malfoy's Dad.

Ron realised he was being spoken to, and shook himself out of his stupor.

"I'm sorry?" he asked hot woman.

Hot woman replied, "I was wondering if you would like to get cleaned up?" She had this lilting French accent that was strangely familiar.

"Right! Yeah well, I'll just – ah," Ron waved his wand and he was all clean.

"You meesed a beet, " said hot woman, and rubbed the tip of his nose with her dainty lacey hanky.

"Ah, thanks!" Ron gave that rakish lopsided grin he knew Hermione liked.

Apparently hot woman liked it too. She blushed a little and held out her hand, "I'm Gabrielle."

So that's why she was familiar! "Gabrielle? You're Fleur's sister!"

He remembered to kiss the back of her hand, as was the proper French way, and hoped he didn't slobber too much. He was practically drooling.

Hot woman, nee, Gabrielle, giggled in a girlish fashion that Hermione never did, and replied "Yes, eet it true. I remember you from zee wedding, and zee christening. You have not been veesiting very often, oui?"

"Oui…err, yes, I've been busy you know? With work and all that. " Ron waved about vaguely.

"Yes, I suppose."

Ron stared blatantly, before realising she was waiting for him to say something.

"Err…" he started.

"Oui?"

"Well, I was heading out into muggle London to grab a drink, and would you like to come, err, have a drink with me? If you're free that it. I wouldn't want to take your time if you're busy, but if you're free, err, would you care for a drink?"

He remembered to breathe, and waited.

"Oui, Pourquoi pas? Je veux bien."

"My French's a bit rusty, you know?"

"I said yes, I would like that."

"That's great! Well, shall we?" Ron offered her his arm, very gentlemanly, he thought, and led Gabrielle down the street.

Tomorrow, Ron thought, he'd talk to Harry.

Tonight, he'd just try not to think of Hermione.