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Ron Weasley and His Happy Little Bubble of Denial	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 5128 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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- 1-Ron Weasley and His Happy Little Bubble of Denial
- 1
Title: Ron Weasley and His Happy Little Bubble of Denial

Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling and her associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.

Pairings: Harry/Draco, Ron/Hermione, others implied

Rating: R/M

Word Count: ~4300

Warnings: Crack!fic. Profanity, AU (ignores DH), references to slash, het, and femmeslash sex, Ron POV.

Summary: Ron is a chess-master and a war strategist, gifted at seeing larger patterns that other people ignore. Therefore, he knows that Harry is not really dating Draco Malfoy. There are other explanations that make so much more sense.

Author’s Notes: This is a prequel to my fic “Ron Weasley and the Adventure of the Dastardly Bastard,” and thus begins a new series I’ve decided to call the Hapless Ron Series. However, either fic can be read independently.

Ron Weasley and His Happy Little Bubble of Denial

            “Hmm, who do you think Harry’s new girlfriend is, anyway?”

            Ron considered the question a perfectly reasonable one, an idle question for a sunny day. He and Hermione were under a tree near the edge of the Hogwarts lake, his back leaning on the tree and her head lying on his shoulder. All right, so it was a bit uncomfortable because Hermione had her face twisted to the side so that she could read, but it was sure better than another day in the library.

            There was no reason that question should have made Hermione lift her head and gape at him. A line of drool began to roll from her chin down to the book. Ron, concerned, reached out and tilted her jaw shut.

            “What?” he asked. “Harry’s been a bit secretive about her, that’s all. Do you think he’s dating Ginny? I know they think I’d hurt him if they were together, but that’s not true.” He would only require that Harry sign a document in his own blood stating that he would never hurt Ginny, and then take an Unbreakable Vow stating the same thing. Hermione had solemnly agreed that those were reasonable precautions when Ron explained them to her.

            “Ron, I really can’t believe you.” Hermione stood up, shaking her head, and began to walk back towards the castle.

            “What?” Ron called after her, baffled. Harry’s love life had the power to disturb a completely peaceful study session with his girlfriend; how was that fair? “I haven’t insulted her. How could I? I don’t know anything about her!”

            “You know perfectly well who Harry is dating.” Hermione paused as she was about to walk out of earshot, her brow furrowed in that way she used when she was trying to figure out how Ron could have scored negative points on a Transfiguration exam. “You’ve known for weeks. They’ve been open enough about it after the first few days, when Harry was embarrassed. It doesn’t do any good for you to pretend you don’t know.”

            And she walked away before Ron could protest that he really didn’t know. Ron slumped back against the tree and scowled thoughtfully at the lake. He had no idea what Hermione was talking about. Harry had done everything normally in the past months, once he began to get over the enormous relief that his killing Voldemort had been for all of them. He played Quidditch, he slept too late in the mornings, he put off his homework as long as he possibly could, he ate almost as much as Ron, and he went to the Owlery to visit Hedwig.

            Finally, though, Ron remembered Lavender Brown making some smart remark last week, and Harry blushing. He chuckled. No wonder Harry didn’t want to remind Ron and Hermione of who he was dating. He was probably remembering Ron’s embarrassing tangle with Lavender last year, and assumed his friend would be resentful. Or maybe he had the sense to realize this wasn’t true love.

            “Lavender’s pretty, but she doesn’t have the brainpower to capture someone like Harry forever,” Ron announced to the bees buzzing around the rosebush near him. “I reckon Harry went out of his way to pick a girlfriend as different from Hermione as he could get, to show he wasn’t pining for her. I’ll need to tell him that he doesn’t need to do that. I know he and Hermione didn’t ever want each other.”

            Well, he amended conscientiously as he got up and wandered back to the castle, there was that other night when Hermione gasped out Harry’s name, but then she said, “Oh, no!”, so she was probably dreaming that he didn’t turn in his homework on time.

            I’ll have to congratulate Harry when I see him.

*

            “Hey, mate, you know you don’t have to hide anything from me, right?” Ron sat down next to Harry at breakfast the next morning, grinning at him.

            Harry swallowed a mouthful of sausages and blinked as if baffled. “Er, I know,” he said. “You’ve been great about accepting him.”

            Who? Ron almost asked, but then realized his ears were still crusted with sleep, and he must have mistaken Harry saying “her” for “him.” He nodded cheerfully. “Well, I wish you and Lavender the greatest happiness,” he said. He leaned nearer and lowered his voice, after a glance around to make sure neither Hermione nor Lavender were nearby. “You know, she really is good in bed. Just don’t let her stick her tongue down your throat.”

            Harry stared at him with lips parted a moment. Ron felt magnanimous as he helped himself to a piece of toast. Harry was no doubt wondering what he would do without a friend like Ron to give him that piece of advice.

            “I’m not dating Lavender, Ron.” Harry said it with a terrible gentleness, and looked away, a bright flush on his cheeks.

            “Harry, I told you, you don’t need to hide anything from me.” Ron squeezed his shoulder. “I’m completely over her!” I need someone who can row with me, he admitted to himself, and Lavender only ever wanted to argue about the makeup she was wearing.

            “I’m not dating Lavender,” Harry repeated, standing up. A bright flush mottled the corners of his cheeks. “And I thought you’d accepted it, but I reckon you haven’t.” And he stomped off, leaving Ron to blink at his back.

            He tried to share his surprise with Hermione when she came down to breakfast, but she only gave him a scornful glance, an, “Honestly, Ron,” and a cold shoulder whilst she finished the book she’d been reading under the tree yesterday.

            Ron gazed absently at the entrance to the Great Hall, where Harry and Malfoy were standing with their hands resting on each other’s shoulders. It was heroic of Harry to want to hold his rival up when they were about to punch each other out, it really was.

            And then the answer came to Ron. No wonder Hermione was exasperated with him. Harry would never date a girl like Lavender. No, he was a hero, and there was only one girl he’d ever been a hero for.

            Smiling, Ron set out to find her.

*

            It had taken him most of the day to catch up with Ginny; she was taking far too many subjects, as if she intended to compete with Percy in numbers of NEWTS, and she barely even came to the Great Hall for lunch, preferring to snatch it in the kitchens where there was less chance of a food fight among the Gryffindor boys coating her book with crumbs and stains. But Ron ran into her as she came in for dinner, and she had a small, relaxed smile on her face. Ron nodded wisely. She just spent time with Harry, I bet.

            “Congratulations, Gin,” he said.

            Ginny blinked at him and tossed her hair over one shoulder. She had taken to wearing it in a flowing braid that Ron didn’t entirely approve of lately. But then, he reminded himself sternly, it wasn’t his duty to approve. His little sister could date whoever she wanted, and he had to stand aside and stop playing the protective older brother. Everything would be fine as soon as he talked to Harry about that blood magic document and the Unbreakable Vow.

            “Thanks, Ron,” she said. “But how did you hear that I’d got the highest score in the class on my Charms exam? I only just found out myself.”

            “I meant about your dating Harry.” Ron hugged her, whilst Ginny stood stiff in his embrace. She probably still expected him to make threats of punching Harry, Ron thought comfortably. He had to show her that ordinary magical precautions against hurting her were enough for him. “He’s the right sort of man for you. Always your hero, wasn’t he, since he saved you in the Chamber of Secrets?”

            “Ron,” Ginny said, and shoved him away so hard that he reeled, “where did you hear this ridiculous rumor about my dating Harry?” Her eyes had sparked, and her hands rested on her hips. Ron stared at her in uneasy fascination. He knew she’d been spending more time with Hermione since she’d started studying more, but had she really picked up that many of Hermione’s mannerisms? “If that Parvati started it again, then—“

            “No, I figured it out,” said Ron. “I thought he was dating Lavender, but I was wrong. He’s a hero, and you’re his heroine, so he has to be dating you.”

            Ginny gave a great sigh and shook her head. “The sooner you get over this stupid blindness you have, Ron, the better for all of us,” she said.

            Ron stared at her again. “You’re not dating?” Well, at least that means I don’t have to go get the nightshade and look up that Dark magic for the blood document.

            “Of course not.” Ginny gave him a calculating look. “It must have occurred to you by now that Harry prefers the male sex.”

            “Er, yes, I know,” said Ron. “So do I.”

            Ginny began to laugh so hard she choked. “That will be news to Hermione,” she said at last, leaning against the wall whilst her knees trembled.

            “I mean, all my friends are blokes,” Ron explained, wondering how in the world Ginny could have misunderstood him, and what exactly she thought he was referring to. “Hermione’s my girlfriend. She understands the difference. She always has.”

            Ginny raised a brow. “I mean that Harry prefers the male sex in all ways possible.”

            Ron scratched his head. “You mean, for Quidditch and chess and drinking with? So do I.” He’d thought it would be fun trying to get drunk with Hermione, but she turned too demanding for his taste, wanting two orgasms for every one she gave him.

            “I give up,” said Ginny. “Not least because it’ll be so entertaining when you finally do see the truth.” She shook her head and went in to dinner, a snicker breaking out of her that Ron didn’t understand.

            Ron stared after her. He had to admit that a direct denial made it unlikely Ginny and Harry were dating, but that didn’t clear up the mystery of who Harry was dating.

            Suddenly the truth occurred to him, and he could have smacked himself in the forehead for being so stupid. When Ginny said Harry preferred the male sex in all ways possible, that meant that he didn’t have a girlfriend to do boyfriend-girlfriend things with. He must be sensitive about it, which would account for the way he snapped at Ron at breakfast.

            Ron nodded determinedly and walked in to the Gryffindor table, passing Malfoy and Harry on the way. Harry was thrusting his mouth towards Malfoy’s, obviously either biting him or checking on the number of teeth he had knocked out this morning. Ron would have to remember to tell him what a good show of rivalry he was putting on, but also to spend more time with him. Harry must be lonely. For him to spend this much time chasing Malfoy around was obviously a cry for help.

*

            “There you are, Harry!”

            Harry stiffened, and there was a brief scuffle at his feet, as he tucked the Invisibility Cloak over something. Ron chuckled indulgently. Harry had sneaked into the Forbidden Forest and stolen illegal Potions ingredients, and he thought Ron would disapprove because he was a prefect. Time to show him that Ron valued their friendship above any petty stupid rules.

            “Come on, Harry.” Ron bounced the broom he held over his shoulder invitingly. “What do you say we go flying?”

            Harry cleared his throat and leaned back against the tree on the outskirts of the Forest that Ron had spotted him by five minutes ago. He looked flushed and rumpled, his hair standing out in several directions. Of course, if he’d just run madly through the Forest to escape a centaur or an Acromantula—Ron shuddered—then that was easily explained. Ron was proud of himself for thinking up such a reasonable theory, after his wrong guesses of the last few days. He was a chess-master and a war strategist. Of course he would arrive at the right idea where most other people would still be floundering.

            Harry twitched his robes around the front of his body. Ron looked down. For a moment he thought he caught a glimpse of a naked leg, but the Invisibility Cloak covered it again quickly. He nodded wisely. Harry’d had his robes torn in his escapade, and of course there was no way that one bloke would ever show his cock to another.

            “I—I don’t have my broom, Ron.” Harry muttered the words, turning his flushed face away.

            “Well, you can Summon it, the way you did in fourth year.” Ron grinned; the tactic Harry had used against the Hungarian Horntail in the Tri-wizard Tournament was one of his favorite memories, and had been since the moment when he’d realized that Harry had survived and he didn’t have to worry about his best friend dying by dragonfire. From the wand of a Dark wizard or Malfoy’s blows or Snape’s essays, of course, but not by dragonfire. “Come on, Harry, do it? For me?”

            “I really can’t,” Harry whispered, and then coughed sharply. His hips arched forwards a little. Ron wondered if he’d got stung or bitten by something in the Forest, and was feeling the pain of it now.

            “Why not, mate?” Ron glanced back at the castle, wondering for a moment if Hermione had followed him outside, but no, she would be in the library studying by now. Still, it was no trouble for Ron to go to the library if Harry really needed a special potion brewed. “Want me to go get you a healing potion?”

            “Yes!” Harry almost shouted the words in relief. “Yes, Ron, I’m really not feeling good, and—“ He sagged forwards suddenly, gasping, his hands clasped in front of himself. Ron winced. He must have got bitten on the arse or something. Not fun. Ron had had a spider bite—he shuddered—there himself.

            “All right, then.” Ron pretended to salute with the broom, and then mounted it and zoomed into the sky. He knew Hermione kept several healing potions around the head of her bed, a habit she’d picked up during the war and hadn’t ever discontinued. He would have just Summoned one, but he was afraid the vial would hit a wall or windowsill on the way and break. It wouldn’t take long to fly to Gryffindor Tower, find Hermione’s window, and pluck one of the potions away.

            Looking down, Ron made out a strange flash of pale hair, and blinked. Malfoy was crouched in front of Harry. Ron thought about dropping back down and helping his friend defeat the smarmy git, but then he realized Malfoy was actually on his knees. Ron began to grin. Maybe Harry had got over the behavior he’d exhibited since the war, when he was so perfectly good that he wouldn’t even hex the Slytherins, and had applied a touch of Imperius to the pure-blood prat.

            Well, Ron wouldn’t ruin his friend’s fun. He could take some time about getting the healing potion, in fact. Obviously Harry wasn’t sick; he just didn’t know how Ron would take his sudden epiphany that the only good Slytherin was a sobbing Slytherin. Ron swirled his broom lazily in the air and rose cheerily towards the sun.

*

            “But Harry’s alone, so I want to take some time to reassure him,” Ron explained patiently to Hermione for the fiftieth time. Hermione had just taken the History of Magic written NEWT and had tried to seduce him in his bedroom in an excess of nervous energy, which Ron appreciated, but getting drunk with Harry sounded like more fun right now.

            “Ron!” Hermione snarled at him, and Ron backed away a bit. The only time she was more frightening was when she started getting teary-eyed about house-elves. “For the last time, Harry is dating Draco Malfoy. Clearly he’s not alone!”

            Ron laughed triumphantly. “That’s a good joke, Hermione, but you can’t get me to fall for it. I saw him get Malfoy on his knees the other day. He’s finally got over this strange prejudice he had during the war about hurting Slytherins, and—“

            “He doesn’t want to hurt Slytherins because his boyfriend is one.” Hermione’s voice was low and dangerous, and she advanced towards him like an enraged Veela. Ron dodged cautiously. It was too bad Hermione wasn’t as pretty as a Veela when she was calm, he thought, and instead adopted the appearance of a transformed one, with the way her fingers hooked and her voice grew shrill. “He’s been spending time with Malfoy every week since the start of the term. He snogs him in the corridors. He changed his mind about Malfoy during the war and he talked about it at every opportunity, even before they started dating. How can you be so oblivious? Although I suppose you’ve always had trouble telling the difference between make-believe and reality,” she added, with a little sniff.

            Ron had no idea what she meant with that last crack, and so decided to ignore it for now. “He’s not dating Malfoy,” he insisted. “Blokes can’t date blokes.”

            Hermione gave him a glance that was far too slow and incredulous for his liking. “You’ve shared a room with Seamus and Dean for seven years, and you still think that?” she asked.

            “Seamus and Dean like to wrestle and give each other massages a lot,” Ron said, beginning to feel uncomfortable. “Really, Hermione, I didn’t think you’d judge them for that.”

            Hermione put her head in her hands. “Go find Harry, then, and you’ll see what I mean,” she said.

            “Fine! I will!” Ron whirled and stomped out of the room, angry that this was necessary at all. Someone might have started a rumor about Harry and Malfoy, but that was no reason for Hermione to believe it. He heard her sniff behind him again, and start putting on her clothes.

            He felt a small stab of regret, but the more important thing right now was proving that Harry was his best friend, and therefore Ron knew him best. Harry would have told him that he was dating Draco Malfoy. He would have shown him. Ron would have seen. He couldn’t possibly be as mistaken about this as Hermione thought he was.

            Ron held out his wand and said authoritatively, “Point Me Harry Potter.” The wand spun around twice on his palm and then aimed him towards the seventh floor. Ron nodded in satisfaction. Harry was in the Room of Requirement, probably communing with the Mirror of Erised or something like it. Ron knew how much he missed his parents and Sirius, and how badly he needed to see their memories from time to time—though in a less dangerous fashion than the Mirror of Erised offered.

            The door of the Room of Requirement was visible, a heavy iron thing with a design of serpents and lions entwined. Ron shrugged when he saw it. So what? Harry had survived a war, destroyed Voldemort’s Horcruxes, and killed the Dark Lord inside a few months. He was entitled to have strange designs on his doors if he wanted. Besides, Harry had confessed to Ron one wintry night during the war that he’d almost been put in Slytherin. Ron had accepted the news with a minimum of yelling, which showed what true friends they were.

            So did the easy way the door opened under his hand, instead of staying shut and locked as it would have against an intruder.

            Ron opened the door, and looked confidently inside.

*

            Ron was a chess-master and a war strategist, gifted at seeing larger patterns that other people ignored. That had helped them again and again when they were fighting Voldemort. Ron had divined two of the hiding places of the Horcruxes just based on the information Harry told them about Voldemort’s past and the tactics of the Death Eaters during the previous war with You-Know-Who.

            His mind was tough and flexible. He sat up in bed for long hours that night, trying to come up with an explanation of the things he had seen in the Room of Requirement beyond the horrible, obvious one.

            If it had been Harry thrusting into Malfoy who crouched on all fours in the center of a green and silver bed, groaning sinfully, then Ron could have accepted that Harry meant it merely as a plot to humiliate the ferret, and could have found the evidence. But no, it just had to be Malfoy thrusting into Harry, who was not only on all fours, but throwing his head back and crying aloud, as if he enjoyed—

            Ron cut the thought off. There were some things too disgusting to think about.

            He could have decided that Harry was only with Malfoy out of compassion for his numerous problems, but he couldn’t get far in that line of thought, either. Harry had smiled too often in the last few months. He spent too much time away from his friends and with Malfoy; surely he would have complained at least once and sought to avoid Malfoy some of the time if it was only a pity fuck. Besides, they had learned during the war that Malfoy’s parents loved him desperately when Lucius Malfoy killed Bellatrix Lestrange to save his son, so Ron didn’t think Malfoy had endured some secret life of abuse.

            He thought about Imperius, but Harry could resist that. He thought about a potion, but Hermione had reassured him wearily that she had already tested for the presence of every love potion and mind-controlling potion she knew in Harry’s bloodstream, and that he’d let her. None of them were present.

            Ron could trust Hermione, he knew, even if he would have a hard time trusting Harry anymore.

            Towards morning, Ron finally found the explanation. Malfoy was more cunning than they had ever known; he was a Slytherin, after all. He had put up such a convincing impersonation of regret that Harry had fallen in love with his façade and wouldn’t hear a word against him. And of course Malfoy would decide the status gained by staying with the Savior of the Wizarding World made up for anything distasteful he had to do to keep that status.

            That meant Malfoy would reveal his real colors someday. Just because he was cunning didn’t make him endlessly patient. And someday he would probably find someone he thought could give him more prestige, because Harry was so shy of all the attention his heroics had gained him. Then Ron would be there to comfort the heartbroken Harry and punish Malfoy.

            Ron nodded grimly. He could do this. Harry and maybe even Hermione would never believe him if he tried to denounce Malfoy now, but if Malfoy could wait for the day when he would have his real revenge, so could Ron.

            And then, when Harry no longer cared about him, Ron would break every bone in Malfoy’s body.

            Everyone would win.

*

            Ron caught Harry’s eye at breakfast the next morning. There was a large bruise on Harry’s neck and a happy shine in his eyes. Ron sighed noisily to himself. He couldn’t pretend to ignore this any longer.

            “I know you’re dating Malfoy, Harry,” he said stiffly. “I’m happy for you.”

            Harry stared at him for a moment, lips parted, and then smiled. “Thanks, Ron,” he said. “That means a lot to me.”

            Ron nodded graciously, decided that he could ignore the way Harry shifted on the bench as if he found sitting down uncomfortable, and looked away as he began to eat his bacon.

            His eye fell on Ginny, standing by the entrance to the Great Hall and looking wistfully about. Ron smiled. He understood, now, why she was studying so hard. She must have realized Harry was lost to her—at least for the moment; Ron was laying odds that, on the day the ferret finally betrayed Harry, Harry would need someone who understood him like Ginny did—and taken to books as a substitute. Hermione had done the same thing when she thought Ron would never wake up to her love for him, so it was a coping mechanism Ron was familiar with.

            Well, he’d reassure Gin about Harry, and in the meantime maybe try and find a nice boy for her.

            Suddenly Ginny’s face brightened, and she practically skipped forwards. Ron’s eyebrows rose when he watched Luna Lovegood come into the Great Hall and reach out to take Ginny’s hand. Huh. Well, they must have become closer friends than he realized during the days of the war when they shared Grimmauld Place as junior members of the Order of the Phoenix, not allowed to fight.

            And Luna must have fascinating shampoo, too, from the way Ginny was leaning over to sniff at her hair. She was sniffing her ear, even. Maybe an expensive perfume?

            Ron vowed to find out the names of the shampoo and perfume soon, and give them to Ginny for her birthday. That, he thought as he crunched through a mouthful of eggs, should give her a greater chance to catch a bloke.

            Even if he was going to be an oblivious best friend, he thought as he watched Ginny and Luna sit down at the Ravenclaw table together and practice making kissing motions at each other for when they finally did start dating boys, he didn’t plan on being an oblivious big brother.

            End.
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Ron Weasley and His Happy Little Bubble of Denial