Some days I really love my twisted brain.

[hackthis_archive]

lalejandra said ‘Ron/ Harry, non-shippy’. I said ‘dysfunctional. Unrequited. Fighting. Ooh.’

Consider this my un-official contribution to switchknife’s Dysfunctionalia. Not because I have an official contribution, but because all my shit is dysfunctional.


Harry Potter
Hermione/Ron/Harry/Neville
Not If You Were the Last Junkie on Earth





"Get over it?” Ron parroted in disbelief before slumping back in his chair and sprawling his legs out a bit more.

Across from him, Harry shifted in his seat before the fire, and then nodded as though he'd just sorted out the entire war without breaking a sweat. The smile on his lips died off when Ron didn’t return it -- and Ron, for his part, was all scepticism. He was also all desperation, and obviously that was why he was willing to let Harry give him advice, because Harry was not terribly good with advice. Or thinking about other people.

Harry was great when you were about to be eaten by an enormous spider or sautéed by a blast-ended skrewt, and he was always there with an Invisibility Cloak when needed, but he'd never even had a girlfriend; what could he possibly know?

What was Ron thinking coming to him in his hour of need?

Oh right, that they were best mates.

"That's it. That's your great advice," Ron said, as Harry picked up his chocolate and swallowed another mouthful. "Get over it.”

Harry looked thoughtful for a moment and then set his mug back on the sideboard. "Yeah, it is," he said, scratching behind his left ear.

"That's not advice," Ron said peevishly. "That's putting a bloody plaster on a dragon bite."

Harry tilted his head to one side, and his eyes narrowed fractionally. “I’m sorry about you and Hermione, Ron” he began, "but that's no reason to start taking it out on me."

"You're sorry?" Ron parroted again. Harry nodded before reaching over awkwardly, and patting Ron on the knee.

It was something his dad would’ve done. Ron didn’t need advice from his dad; he needed it from his mate.

The noise Ron made was somewhere between incredulous and a wood sprite having its wings pulled off. He'd come to Harry hoping that Harry would be honest with him. He'd come to Harry just hoping that he'd been wrong. "I tell you that Hermione's tossed me over for some bloke with no name and all you can do is say you're sorry? Not 'Let's find the bastard and flog him'? Not ‘I’ll pull out my Invisibility Cloak and we’ll run the bastard up the goal posts?’ Not even 'She was never good enough for you at any rate, Ron?' -- But 'I'm sorry?'"

"We are talking about Hermione here," Harry interjected with a grin, picking up his mug again and sucking down the last of his chocolate.

"That's not the effing point!" Ron hollered.

The mug in Harry’s hand paused between his mouth and the table, and his eyebrows began climbing towards his hairline. "Then what is 'the effing point'?" he snapped finally. "You're both my mates. I've known you since we were knee-high to Hagrid. You can't possibly expect me to take sides, can you?"

"I expect you to support me when I need you and not act like a fucking prat!" Ron spat back. "You knew I thought something dodgy'd been going on. You knew she was going to break it off, didn't you? You've been waiting on this for ages, haven't you? Can't find anyone for yourself, so everybody else has to be miserable as well!"

Harry's mug landed onto the carpet of the Gryffindor common room with a dull thud. "You're clearly upset about all this, so I'm just going to put that down to you being a bit emotional." His tone with flat and his mouth was tight, and in the glow from the fire, Ron could see something twitch in Harry's right eye, but he carried on.

"I'm not being emotional," Ron said, glaring at the mouse that had appeared by the fireplace to warm itself. "I'm being smart. You knew this was coming and you didn't even see fit to tell me."

"Do you really think I wouldn't tell you something like that?!" Harry exploded, and the mouse shrieked and ran for cover.

Ron didn't even flinch. By their seventh-year, he'd seen this enough not to be cowed by it anymore. "I think if you could get things the way you wanted them, you wouldn't say 'boo' to a ghost," he retorted.

Harry's face alternately lost colour and flushed, but Ron carried on over the crackling fire.

"I think that you're so busy with your own finger up your arse that you wouldn't notice anybody else unless they bit you on the nose."

"Ron." Harry's wand was out of his robes before Ron could get in another word edgewise, but Ron shook his head.

"Pointing your wand at your mates now, Harry?" he said, shifting forward in his chair until Harry's wand was almost poking him in the chest. "Go on then, but tell me this, do you think I don't know that you snogged Hermione last Boxing Day and then told her not to tell me?"

Harry gaped openly for several seconds, and Ron batted the wand away from his chest as though it were made of candyfloss.

There was nothing Harry could do to him that hadn’t already been done.

"I let it go because we're mates. Mates, Harry." Ron could taste the disgust in his tongue, it reminded him of sardine Every Flavour Beans. "All I asked was for this one thing, and you couldn't even give it to me. Was a little sympathy too much to ask for? You came to my house and snogged my girlfriend, and I let you because we're mates."

Out the corner of his eye, Ron watched Harry's wand drop out of his hand and roll towards the fire.

"It's not the way you think it was." Harry slid forward in his chair, and his right hand began to reach out before they both spotted it and he stopped. "It was only that one time.”

“You’re supposed to be my best mate," Ron protested softly.

"I didn't mean to snog her."

"I let it go with Neville, but now Hermione as well?"

"Ron, it's not what you think," Harry started again, but Ron was having none of it.

"I think that you won't be coming over to mine for the winter break is what I think." Ron got to his feet and collected his papers and parchment. "What do you think Witch Weekly would say about the great Harry Potter stealing his best mate's girl," he announced to no one in particular as he made his way to the stairs. "Perhaps I'll write them and find out."

Ron almost missed Harry’s retort over the crackling noises from the fire. "What do you think Witch Weekly would say about the great Harry Potter being in love with his best mate, Ron Weasley?”

The anger in Harry’s voice echoed in the corners of the room, but for a moment Ron couldn’t tell if Harry was vexed with Ron –- or himself.

He paused with his foot on the first step to the dormitories. “I guess we’ll never know now, will we?”



-end-

1. Improv: holler, suck, chocolate, paper, mug
2. Beta by serialkarma
3. Title taken from the Dandy Warhol's song, not because anybody's doing horse here, since that much obvious, but because the name implies that same sort of 'not on your fucking life' tone.

Comments

[serialkarma.livejournal.com]

Yis. That's the ticket. Loverly!

[hackthis.livejournal.com]

Tanks!

[minitrog.livejournal.com]

Waa! That completely dis-rumpled my grumple.

Too damned effective - bad, bad Z. *g*

KeWeL.

[hackthis.livejournal.com]

I try hard. ;)

[plumsnickety.livejournal.com]

That poor mouse, his warming up disturbed by two idiot boys. Harry being the larger idiot of course, just because.

All I know is that Neville got some, and so I am exceedingly pleased. Hee!

[hackthis.livejournal.com]

You know me, I'm always looking out for Neville's interests!

[tehlils.livejournal.com]

Mmm, angsty. And I adored this line: I've known you since we were knee-high to Hagrid. Just a perfect perfect line.

[hackthis.livejournal.com]

I'm so pleased you liked it, thanks for reading!

[silverakira.livejournal.com]

Sigh. Only you and Nifra could make me read HP again. (And Hermione/Ron/Harry/Neville at that.)

But wow, I love this, like, a whole lot. Because there's just something about your writing that I can't put my finger on, but just totally blows me away.

Honestly, I think you could get me to read any pairing, and that is a scary, scary thing.

Okay, and I'm sort of in love with this paragraph:

The noise Ron made was somewhere between incredulous and a wood sprite having its wings pulled off. He'd come to Harry hoping that Harry would be honest with him. He'd come to Harry just hoping that he'd been wrong. "I tell you that Hermione's tossed me over for some bloke with no name and all you can do is say you're sorry? Not 'Let's find the bastard and flog him'? Not ‘I’ll pull out my Invisibility Cloak and we’ll run the bastard up the goal posts?’ Not even 'She was never good enough for you at any rate, Ron?' -- But 'I'm sorry?'"

Much with the love for this story.

[hackthis.livejournal.com]

You have totally made my day, really. I'm so pleased to hear that you liked it.

[greenapricot.livejournal.com]

The noise Ron made was somewhere between incredulous and a wood sprite having its wings pulled off.
I love this, it makes me laugh and cringe at the same time (laugh at the description and cringe and the thought of the sound). And, man, that last line hits like a bludger to the gut.

[hackthis.livejournal.com]

That's what I like to hear, thank you so much for reading!

[dorrie6.livejournal.com]

This story tangled up my insides and now I'm all cranky. Which is to say, this story is extremely well done.

[hackthis.livejournal.com]

Go with the crankiness, yes.

Teh angst !!!

[voleuse.livejournal.com]

Ow.

Poor Ron. Poor Harry.