A/N: Ok, disclaimer time! I don't own any of these characters, they
are all the property of J.K. Rowling, and no offence or profit is intended
in their use.
This story is just a little bit of meaningless fun. It's the
holidays after the fourth year, and Ron is a bit distracted by a realisation
he has had. He finds someone to talk to about it, but that person may
not really be the best person for the job…
George opened the door to Ron's room and peered inside. "What on
earth was that noise?" he asked. Ron looked slightly embarrassed,
but quickly hid it.
"Umm, must have been the ghoul, I guess," he said
guiltily. George's eyes narrowed as he took in the scene in Ron's bedroom.
"Nah, sounded more to me like a fourth year Transfiguration textbook
being thrown at the wall."
"No it wasn't."
"There's a hole in the plaster, right there. Look."
"No, that was there before, I, um, had a poster covering it."
George took another look around. He hadn't quite been able to place what
it was, but something had been missing from Ron's room since they came
back for the holidays. Now he realised what it was. "Hey," he
said, "why'd you take down your posters of Victor Krum?"
"Didn't want them anymore. Felt it was time for a change. Yeah,
a big change. Get some more Cannons posters."
"Well that's not really much of a change, Ron." George was
right. Almost every inch of wall in Ron's bedroom was covered by what
seemed to be a seething mass of orange and black, the colours of the Chudly
Cannons, his favourite Quidditch team.
"Well I thought I could use some more," Ron said. "You
got a problem with that?"
"Of course not," said George, "I'm just a little surprised,
that's all. You've been acting recently. Well, odd for you, anyway."
Ron rolled his eyes.
"Go away, George."
George ignored him and stepped into the room. "Something bothering
you, Ron?"
"No. Nothing. Nothing at all. Absolutely nothing. Not a thing. Zip."
Ron said all of this quite quickly.
"OK," said George, "wrong question. Ron, tell me what's
wrong."
If George was any judge, his brother seemed to be weighing up the desire
to get something off his chest, and the fear of becoming the brunt of
yet another one of Fred and George's jokes. He watched Ron wrestle with
these concepts for a few seconds, and it brought a smile to his face.
"Come on Ron, you can trust me!" Ron laughed out loud at this,
but obviously decided there was a reasonable amount of truth in it, because
he started talking.
"George…" he started, before trailing off.
"Yes, that's my name, don't wear it out, please, or I'll have to
use Fred's and it's confusing enough already."
"Would you stop interrupting me?"
"No."
Ron sighed. He continued. "George, you know about…" he trailed
off again. He began to gesture as though trying to find the right word.
"I know about what?" asked George, tilting his head
slightly, trying to interpret his brother's hand movements. "Fish?
Radio waves? The Wronski Feint
Ron found the word he was looking for, and managed to get it out. "Girls?
You know about girls, don't you?"
George's face lit up. He could tell this was going to be more fun than
he had originally thought. He sat down in the wooden chair next to Ron's
desk, leaned back and steepled his fingers. "Well Ron," he said
in his best 'wise old professor Dumbledore' voice, "you have come
to the right person. I have been dispensing such wisdom to the less fortunate,
such as you, for as long as I can remember."
"Oh come off it!" Ron exclaimed. "Fred's the one with
the girlfriend, not you!"
"Do not mock what you do not understand, young Weasley.
"What I don't understand is why I bothered even trying to talk to
you."
"Come on Ron," George said, dropping the act, "do you
want my help or not? If you ask me, you need all the help you can get."
"Ha ha. You're an absolute riot, George."
George sighed contentedly. "I know, Ron. You don't have to tell
me these things, though I am flattered that you noticed, of course."
George noticed Ron's scowl. "But back to business. Now, sit back
and listen to my wisdom. Come on, when I tell you to sit, do it!"
He nodded in satisfaction as Ron sat down on his bed, scowl still firmly
in place. "Women, Ron, are a very mysterious bunch. They have confused
and mystified males since time began. Even the very first single celled
organisms would shake their heads in disbelief when..."
"Look," Ron interrupted, "how is this helping me?"
"Patience, Ron," George replied sagely. "You must learn
patience. You will only understand when you cast your petty worries aside."
"Oh please."
"Fine, we'll skip this history lesson, but you don't know what you're
missing. We'll move straight on to the important bits. Now, who is the
woman who has stolen little Ron's heart?"
"Hey! We never said anything about naming names!" Ron said
in a panicky voice.
"Well how am I supposed to help you if I don't know who you're chasing.
Come on, Ron, just tell me!"
"You know, on second thought, forget about it!" Ron was still
panicking. "You obviously aren't the right sort of person to talk
to about this anyway." He jumped up and dragged George out of the
chair and started pushing him towards the door.
"Well I admit I am surprised you chose to talk to me. Flattered,
yes. Proud, of course! But why not your friends? Why not Harry? Or Hermione?
I mean, she's got a chick's perspective on it, she could help a lot!"
But at the mention of her name, Ron's face took on an even more fearful
and panicked expression. George saw this and suddenly made the mental
leap. He dragged himself out of Ron's grip, his face bearing a grin that
threatened to split it in half.
"Merlin's beard! It's her, isn't it? It's Hermione!"
Ron's expression quickly changed to one of total horror, but to his credit,
he covered it up fairly well. "No," he said in a slightly strangled
voice, "what makes you think that?"
"Might have had something to do with your face going a brighter
colour than your hair when I said her name," George said in all seriousness.
Ron lost control and the horrified expression returned, bigger and better
than ever.
"Ooh, I wish I had a camera right now," George said with glee,
framing Ron with his fingers and making clicking noises. "Fred would
die to see this."
"NO!!" Ron practically screamed. He grabbed George by the shoulders
and shook him violently. "You can't tell anyone! ANYONE!! Not Lee,
not Angelina, not Harry, not even Fred!"
"Can I tell Hermione?" George asked innocently.
Ron made a funny high pitched squawking noise that George had to assume
meant "no". This deduction was helped by the fact that his face
went even redder, his expression defied imagination by becoming even more
horrified, and he shook his head so violently that George thought it might
fall off at any second.
"Sit down, Ron, before you have a stroke or something."
With a slight push, Ron collapsed into the chair. He buried his face
in his hands, and began shaking his head again. George felt that this
opportunity had to be milked for all it was worth.
"I can't really blame you, Ron," he said, affecting a thoughtful
expression and rubbing his chin. "I mean, did you see her at the
Yule Ball?"
"Of course I saw her!! I couldn't keep my eyes off her all night!!"
Ron yelled, sitting up straight again. He seemed to have realised his
position was helpless now, and he had little choice. He had apparently
decided that if he gave George the information he wanted, maybe he would
agree to keep quiet. It was a long shot, but it was the only one Ron had
left.
George's thoughtful expression deepened for a second, and he glanced
at the bare spots on the walls that had until recently been graced by
posters of a certain Bulgarian Quidditch player. "Ah," he said,
"the redecoration takes on more significance. She went to the ball
with-"
"Don't remind me!" Ron cut him off.
"So Ron's face has gone red, but he's also more than a little green
about this?"
"I suppose so," Ron replied in a dejected sort of voice. "At
first I thought I was angry at him because he was from Durmstrang, but
now I'm afraid that there's more to it than that."
George sat down on Ron's bed. "How long have you felt like this
about her?" Listen to me, he thought, I'm being serious! Good lord,
what's come over me? I'm so ashamed…
"I don't know," Ron replied. "I only just realised it
recently. I was thinking about it and all of a sudden, BANG, I realise
what I've been doing and how much of a fool I must have made of myself
at the ball."
"I see. She's not such a bad catch, really, is she? I mean, she's
really loosened up quite a bit since we first met her. Well, except for
that SPEW thing last year, that was just nuts."
"She's in Bulgaria with Krum right now! There's nothing I can do!
And I'm very, very scared that I'm going to make a bigger fool of myself
next year!"
"Well the way I see it Ron, you have two choices. You can keep this
up and risk making a fool out of yourself like you just said, or you can
actually DO something about it."
"Like what?!?"
"Like grit your teeth, stand up and tell her!"
"WHAT? ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?!? She's going out with Krum, you
idiot!"
"But Krum's in Bulgaria, Ron. Hermione's a smart girl, and she may
well decide that a long distance relationship just isn't going to work,
and then you're in with a chance. You never know, mate, you might get
lucky."
"Right, sure."
"You know what they say, Ron: 'Love is like a box of chocolates.'"
"What? Who says that? What on earth is that supposed to mean?"
"Um, I don't actually know," George admitted. "It's a
Muggle thing."
"Where in the world did you pick that up?"
"That's not important Ron, what's important is that I tell Fred
all about this and we keep the village awake all night with our laughing."
You had to credit George in that he managed to say all this with an entirely
straight face. Ron's face remained anything but straight.
"No! You said you wouldn't tell!"
"No, Ron, you said I wouldn't tell. I said Fred would die
to-"
Ron cut him off again, and George realised that he had actually done
more interrupting than George during this conversation. "No, please!!
Promise me you won't tell a soul!"
"Ok, Ron," George said rolling his eyes, as though he thought
it was a completely incomprehensible request, "I won't tell a soul."
Ron sighed happily and settled back in the chair.
But George wasn't finished yet. "Can I drop hints?"
"What? No!"
"Can I write it down, just for personal remembrance?"
"No!!"
"Can I use reverse psychology? You know, 'Hey Fred, did you know
that Ron absolutely, one hundred percent does not have a crush
on Hermione Granger?'"
"NO!!! You can't say anything!! To ANYONE!! No living soul
must know!"
"Can I tell a ghost?"
"NO!!!!!"
"Sorry Ron, I'm just messing with your mind a little. Although it
seems like it's been pretty thoroughly messed without any help from me."
Ron actually went down on his knees. George was quite impressed by this,
and hoped that Ron would humiliate himself just a little bit more. He
wasn't allowed to tell anyone about this right now, but the day would
come when Fred would hear the entire thing. George wanted the story to
be as impressive as possible.
"Please promise me that you won't tell anyone!" said Ron. "Swear
on…on…on the joke shop!! Swear to me on the future of Weasley's Wizard
Wheezes that you will not tell anyone that this conversation ever took
place!"
George grudgingly admitted to himself that he felt some pity towards
Ron, but he was realistic enough to know that this couldn't stay a secret
for long. Ron would make a mistake, just like he did here, and it would
be out. Once that happened, it couldn't be stopped, and the rumour would
take on a life of its own. But George decided to humour him a bit. "Ok
Ron," he said, raising his left hand and placing his right over his
heart, "I, George Weasley, do solemnly swear by the future
of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, that I will not tell anyone of this
conversation or of what was spoken of in it."
Ron sagged in relief. "Thank you, thankyou thankyou thankyou,"
he said.
"Hey, it was my pleasure." George grinned as he stood up. "Got
any more deep dark secrets you want to tell me?"
"As though I would tell you anything after this."
"Hey, I listened didn't I?" exclaimed George, trying to sound
indignant through his laughter. "I gave you some advice, didn't
I?"
"If you call that advice."
George grinned at his brother. "There's an easy solution, Ron, and
I say take it before someone else finds out. Someone less trustworthy
than yours truly."
The venomous look in Ron's eyes convinced George it was time to quit
while he was ahead. He walked out of his brother's room, laughing his
head off. When he got back to the bedroom he shared with Fred, his twin
looked up from the new order form draft he was working on.
"What's so funny?" he asked.
"Ah, don't worry about it Fred, I've got a funny feeling you'll
learn soon enough."
