"You did WHAT??"

"Honestly Harry, it was not my fault!"

"I fail to see how it was NOT your fault? It was you who did the stuffing!"

"We don't know that for sure!"

"What? Oh let me see," Harry ticked off on his fingers,

"A) you went out last night with a woman, your SISTER - IN - LAW for crying out loud!

B) You wake up this morning in a muggle hotel, naked and alone.

C) you have lipstick on your collar, not to mention your face.

D) You can't remember a bloody thing because you were so bloody drunk, so now tell me you bloody idiot, how is it NOT YOUR FAULT???"

Harry yelled all this, cornering Ron into the sofa, where he now cowered at his Best Friend's righteous wrath. After all, he had cheated on his wife of 6 years and love of many more; at least it looked like he had cheated, but he honestly didn't remember a bloody thing, except having a few drinks with the beautiful Gabrielle.

"Harry, mate, my best friend, pal, I really don't remember mate! I must have been drugged!"

"The hell you were, and who would drug you? The Death Eaters?"

"Err…?"

"No one, Ronald Weasley, would consider you half worthy to go through the trouble of drugging you, and then have their way with you, you stupid oaf! Get over yourself. You just aren't that good looking, nor popular…"

"Okay! Okay, I get it!" Ron cut off Harry's tirade mid sentence, slightly insulted.

"How the hell did you meet Gabrielle anyway? Has this been going on longer than one night??"

Ron winced and ducked his head, "I just met her mate, and no, this was the first time Harry! I'd never do that to Hermione!"

"So you say," Harry replied, ice in his voice.

"Harry," Ron pleaded, "I swear I never meant it to go beyond a few drinks mate. I was just on my way to talk to you about something, and just as I was going to just have a drink because Hermione and I had another row, and I fell on my face and she was there so beautiful and thirsty and we went to the pub…"

"You're babbling, and sounds like it was a Date… so beautiful and thirsty? What the hell RON?"

"Harry mate, you err, never give in to enjoying eye candy?"

"No."

"Oh. Hmm. Well. It's like this…"

"I know exactly what it was you horrible Man! Ron, I like your hair and your strong body, but it doesn't mean I go out on a date with you."

"Huh?" Ron was startled…Harry like him?

"But you, err, don't like me like me, right?"

"What? Oh! No, you're not all that hot."

"I'm not sure if I should be relieved or insulted."

"And I'm not sure if I have to clobber you one!"

"Oh right, the Gabrielle thing."

"Yes, the Gabrielle thing! You don't remember anything beyond the few drinks?"

"I swear I don't! Like I said, I was supposed to come see you, and I just wanted to unwind a bit before that, and there she was mate! I thought well, a few drinks for old times sake wouldn't hurt none, and then I wake up with a hangover, alone and robe-less and drawing a complete blank," Ron thought for a bit, "The room had already been paid for…in her name…"

"AAAARGH! SO you DID sleep with her!!"

"Well, just because she paid for the room that I woke up in the morning…"

"RONALD BILIUS WEASLEY!"

"Stop shouting Harry, I still have a bit of a hangover mate…" Ron cringed.

"THAT'S WONDERFUL!"

"Now I think you're doing it on purpose…"

"YOU THINK?"

"Aaah!"

"You have to tell her."

"No way mate! She'll hex my balls off!"

"And rightly so, I should think!"

"Harry! You, a man, can tell the importance of Bits!"

"Yes, but not Cheating Bits!"

"Well since I remember nothing, can we just assume it didn't happen?"

"Oh! Of course Ron."

"Really?"

"No! You blundering fool!"

"Ah. Well, I can't tell her. She'll kill me."

"If you don't, I'll kill you."

"Oh. What??"

"You heard me."

"This is blackmail! I can oblivate you, you know!" Ron brandished his wand.

"Probably, if you even knew what the bloody spell was, you half-wit. It's Obliviate, and there is a way of doing it that you couldn't get in seventh year, and which you won't get now, and even if you manage it, you think I'd just watch you erase my memory? You could end up killing me or worse, erasing my entire memory!"

"You should get your priorities straight, mate. Amnesia is not worse than death."

Harry slapped his head with a palm.

"Harry?"

"Yes Ron?"

"Can we get some breakfast? I'm starving."

Harry stared at Ron, his best friend of many, many years, and wondered. Why?

"Alright you afflicted man, call the house elf, and eat your last meal as a dying man."

Come to think of it, Ron always ate his meals as if they were his last. Harry saw Ron dig into his breakfast and fill that bottomless pit he called a stomach, and wondered again; why?