Ron Settles Things
By Andrew J. Talon
Disclaimer: I do not and probably never will own Harry Potter or any other copyrighted works mentioned in this story. I am not writing this for profit.
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Year 6...
In their sixth year at Hogwarts, after the infamous Canary Incident, Ron plunked Harry and Hermione down in the common room with a look that said he'd finally cracked something big. Hermione, still simmering from the whole fiasco, bit her tongue but couldn't hide the storm brewing in her eyes. Ron, undeterred, launched right in.
"Harry, Hermione, I just want to tell you that… I have no romantic interest in Hermione. None. Whatsoever."
Hermione blinked, thrown off her simmering rage.
"Er… Wait, what?"
Harry, equally baffled, leaned forward.
"You don't? Then what was all that—?"
"All that?" Ron cut in, waving a hand like he could swat the past away. "All that jealousy? That was before I realized something dead important."
His gaze slid to Hermione, steady and a little wary.
"Hermione, you are, without a doubt, the scariest witch I've ever met. I'd rather face Bellatrix Lestrange than you."
Her jaw dropped.
"Wha—What the hell do you—?"
"I mean you're flat-out mad!" Ron barreled on, like he'd been holding this in for years. "You imprisoned a reporter—a human being—for writing slander about you! You stuck her in a jar! You pushed Harry into starting an underground resistance movement! You sent canaries after me! You're insane! And honestly, I've got no interest in scary, crazy girls. You are, however, perfect for Harry."
He jerked his head toward Harry with a smug little nod, like he'd just solved a riddle.
"What do you mean, perfect for Harry?!" Hermione demanded sharply.
Ron turned to Harry, unfazed.
"Harry… let's face it. The danger, the thrill, the excitement of fighting for your life—that's your life now, isn't it? If You-Know-Who dropped dead, truly dead, right this second, could you really enjoy a boring, normal life without any of that rush?"
Harry bristled. "Of course I could!"
Ron's face twisted into an incredulous smirk, and Harry doubled down.
"I absolutely could—!"
"You didn't actually have to participate in the Tournament, you know," Ron shot back, leaning in. "The Triwizard? You could've just shown up, flopped, and called it a day. The Goblet wouldn't have taken your magic as long as you turned up. But no—you went along with it and risked your neck! Doesn't that mean you're kind of… crazy?"
Harry faltered, the realization hitting him like a Bludger.
"I… I didn't have to…?" He swung his gaze to Hermione, searching.
She shifted, a bit sheepish.
"Well… I mean, technically, you really didn't."
"Which just proves my point!" Ron crowed, triumphant. "Harry, you're absolutely barmy and mad and love the thrill of risking your neck. Hermione? You're one hundred percent mad and scary. You're perfect for each other. So I'm still gonna be your friend, but I'm not getting in the way of your happiness. I'm off to snog Lavender for a while. Have fun."
With that, Ron stood, brushed off his robes, and strode out through the portrait hole like a man unburdened. Harry watched him go, then turned back to Hermione, who… just smiled.
A soft, unexpected blush crept up her cheeks.
Harry let out a quiet, "…Oh boy…" and felt the ground shift beneath him.
Because Ron should be sensible and realize Hermione is CRAZY. And you don't stick it in crazy.