darkravenwrote: (rose)
[personal profile] darkravenwrote
Author: [livejournal.com profile] darkravenwrote
Title: Reasonable Ron
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairings: Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy
Word Count: 588
Rating: G
Warnings: None. Bad attempt at humourous situation?
Prompt: For my ‘Mistrusting’ tile on GYWO Bingo.
Author’s Notes: Words. Why are there no words in my head? Oh well, this stale bingo card is done now. Maybe I’ll have some better ideas with a sparkly new one?
Summary: Ron’s having problems letting Harry organise his own love life. Harry quickly puts him in his place.

"Maybe Hermione and I should come with you?" Ron says, reaching for Harry's tie and making it wonkier rather than straighter.

"Why?" Harry murmurs, batting his hands away and fixing it himself. It's a deep green satin. Ron doesn't know it, but Draco picked it out for him.

"You know, make it a double date? Or we could sit at a different table. But, you know, just to make sure he's not planning on kidnapping you when your guard’s down or something." Ron pats at his shoulders worriedly. Ron's becoming more like his mother with every passing year, dithering around Harry's shoulders whenever something happens in his life.

"Ron." Harry tries to be stern, but Ron's wide eyes show genuine concern for his welfare and Harry can't argue with that no matter how ill-informed Ron may be. "I'm going on a date, not a raid."

"And I've always got your back on raids. I should absolutely have your back for this too. I could be your wingman!"

"I don't need a wingman." Harry huffs exasperated. "It's taken us months to get this far. To our first date, Ron. Can't you see how excited I am?" There's tension in the room, filling up the small space between them. Harry feels it clogging in his throat, so he sits, "And I'm a little offended you don't think I could take Malfoy in a fight."

"I don't trust him."

"I thought we were passed this."

"Well, we're not. He's a little snake and I don't like him."

"But I do." Harry sighs, sinking onto his bed and staring at his reflection across the room. His shirt is pressed, Draco's right about the tie bringing out his eyes, and his hair is somehow half doing what it's told. He folds his arms, unconsciously defensive, and looks up at Ron. "I'm not asking you to like him. I'm asking you to trust my judgement and let me decide what's best for me."

"Hermione agrees with me," Ron says into the sleeve of his coat.

"No, she doesn't," Harry replies confidently. He stands again and smoothing his palms down the blazer hung over the back of his desk chair. Satisfied, he swings it on. "Hermione's glad something's happening in my love life and I'm not mooning over him anymore."

"Okay, yeah, well," Ron stutters, "but she would agree, if she weren't so invested in getting you out of the house on Friday nights."

"We're not kids, Ron, you can say it's your date night. She and I have been inventing reasons for me to get out of the house since we moved in. I know Hermione's fine with it so you can stop pretending. You're the only one who doesn't think this is a good idea." Ron opens his mouth to say something no doubt scathing, but Harry barrels on before he can get a syllable out. "And yes, alright, I know you don't like him, but this is for me. My date. My love life. Not ours."

There are numerous other muttered protests to his back as Harry strides out of their front door, but Harry ignores them. When Harry doesn’t return until lunch the next afternoon, Ron gives him a stern look but glances at Hermione like he’s been suitably chastised. And by the time Harry drags Draco back to their little flat for dinner one evening, Ron’s had enough time to get over himself -- although it has been a year, so Harry thinks he’s been patient enough either way by now.

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