Ron Weasley stared at the laundry basket as if it had personally insulted him. His brow furrowed, and his freckled face twisted in a mixture of frustration and disbelief. "I don't understand," he muttered, holding up a single, lonely sock. It was blue, with tiny golden snitches woven into the fabric. "Where do they go, Hermione? Seriously, is there some kind of sock vortex hiding inside the washing machine?"

Hermione Granger sighed, arms crossed as she leaned against the doorframe of the laundry room. She had been summoned—well, dragged—here because Ron had been mid-rant about the Great Sock Mystery of the Weasley Household.

"Maybe it's not a vortex," she suggested dryly, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Maybe the socks are rebelling. Tired of your questionable laundry folding techniques and planning their escape."

Ron shot her a look. "It's not funny. This is the fourth sock this week! At this rate, I'm going to end up wearing mismatched socks to work, and you know how Percy gets when anyone's less than 'properly presented.'"

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Didn't you once wear a tie with a gravy stain on it to a Ministry meeting?"

"That was one time!" Ron protested. "And besides, this is different. This is an actual conspiracy." He waved the sock in the air for emphasis. "Something is stealing my socks, Hermione."

"Or," Hermione said patiently, "you're just bad at keeping track of them."

Ron scowled and crossed the room to inspect the washing machine with the intensity of someone investigating a crime scene. "There's got to be a logical explanation," he said, pulling open the door and peering inside as though he expected to find a sock thief lurking in the drum.

"Ron, it's just a sock," Hermione said, though she couldn't help smiling at his determination.

"That's what they want you to think," he muttered darkly, poking the washing machine like it was a dangerous creature that might attack at any moment.

Hermione rolled her eyes and walked over to stand beside him. "Alright, Sherlock, let's investigate. What exactly is your theory here? Do you think the washing machine is eating your socks?"

Ron straightened up, frowning thoughtfully. "It's possible. Or maybe… maybe it's some kind of magical portal. You know, like the Vanishing Cabinet. Only instead of sending Death Eaters into Hogwarts, it's sending my socks to some alternate dimension where they're all living happily without me."

Hermione stared at him, torn between exasperation and laughter. "An alternate sock dimension. Right. That sounds completely plausible."

"You've got a better theory?" Ron challenged, folding his arms across his chest.

Hermione tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Well, if we're being logical—which, let's face it, isn't exactly your strong suit—we should consider the most likely explanation first. Maybe the socks are just getting lost in the laundry. Stuck inside trouser legs, slipping under the bed, that sort of thing."

Ron shook his head. "No way. I've checked. I even searched under the sofa cushions, and you know how terrifying that is. I found a Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Bean that might've been from first year. It was practically fossilized."

Hermione laughed. "And you're sure you didn't just misplace them? Because, honestly, Ron, your organizational skills leave a lot to be desired."

"Oi!" Ron protested, but there was a twinkle in his eyes now. "I'll have you know I have a very sophisticated system for keeping track of my stuff."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Is that what you call the giant pile of clothes on the floor of your bedroom?"

"That's not a pile," Ron said indignantly. "It's… it's organized chaos."

Hermione laughed again, and Ron couldn't help but grin. He liked making her laugh, even if it was usually at his expense.

"Alright," she said, taking a step back. "If you're so convinced there's something sinister going on here, why don't we conduct an experiment?"

Ron perked up. "An experiment?"

"Yes. We'll do a load of laundry together, and we'll keep a very close eye on the socks. If one of them disappears, we'll know there's something fishy going on. And if they all come out intact, you'll have to admit that it's probably just your own disorganization causing the problem."

Ron considered this for a moment, then nodded. "Fine. But when we prove that there's a sock-stealing vortex in the washing machine, you'll have to admit I was right."

Hermione smirked. "Deal."

They shook hands, and Ron couldn't help noticing how warm her hand felt in his. He quickly let go, trying to ignore the little jolt of electricity that ran up his arm.

"Let the Great Sock Experiment begin," Hermione declared with a flourish.

Ron chuckled. "You're taking this surprisingly seriously."

"I never do anything halfway," Hermione said with a wink.

And as they loaded the washing machine together, Ron found himself thinking that maybe, just maybe, this was the most fun he'd ever had doing laundry.

But when the cycle finished, and they opened the washing machine door, Ron's face fell.

"Um… Hermione?" he said, pulling out the laundry piece by piece.

She frowned. "What is it?"

He held up a single sock—a bright red one with dancing dragons on it.

Hermione stared at it, then at the empty washing machine.

The matching sock was gone.