nightseer

A Polyjuice Mishap


It was like watching a mass splinching. He wanted to look away, he needed to look away, but he was afraid if he did, it would just get worse.

Malfoy winked, Harry smiled at him, and Ron wanted brain-bleach. Hermione had had to explain the concept to Ron during their lunch, but once he had understood it, he wanted it. An Obliviate would be nice and painless, but that required hunting down a professional. Brain-bleach sounded painful, but it also sounded like something he could use on himself. Ron had a feeling if Harry wasn’t charmed or hexed into this, he would need something to strip his recent memories away quite often.

Ron wanted to stop watching Harry and Malfoy flirt. He didn’t want to see Malfoy’s sly glances at the broom closet and be left wondering what they had been doing during his lunch break. He didn’t want to admit he heard Harry invite Malfoy over to their flat for dinner that night.

Ron was okay with Harry batting for both teams. Ron had had a crush of his own on the keeper for the Chudley Cannons once. He understood the appeal, and was okay with Harry openly dating both. What Ron had trouble with was Harry’s choice of dates.

First it had been Zabini; a short, fast relationship which had lasted two months. Then it had been Padma Patil, quickly followed by Pansy Parkinson, Ernie Macmillan, Hannah Abbot, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and now—Ron shuddered—the Ferret. Ron hadn’t suspected Kingsley and Harry had broken up until he had come into the office late that morning and found Malfoy leaning against Harry’s desk and leering down at Harry. His suspicions were confirmed when Harry hadn’t hexed the blond nuisance away, but leered back up at him.

The worst part was Ron liked Kingsley. In fact, Kingsley was the first of Harry’s dates Ron had liked. True, Kingsley was a little old for Harry, but Kingsley knew how to cast a good silencing charm, and when a man shares a flat with his best mate who happens to be a screamer, a talent like that is appreciated. He also bought Chinese food for everyone when he came over unannounced, and had been the only one of Harry’s dates to acknowledge his and Hermione’s presence by not attempting to make out with Harry in the living room in a lame attempt to stake his claim.

Ron didn’t particularly like thinking of Kingsley in the past tense. He liked it even less when he realized he might have to start thinking of Malfoy as Harry’s.

“Ron?”

Ron looked up from the report he was reading, saw Malfoy was gone, and smiled weakly at his best mate. “Yeah?”

“Hermione was supposed to tell you during your lunch break, but I’m guessing she didn’t,” Harry said, eyeing him with concern. There was also blushing, lots embarrassed blushing. Ron prayed this wasn’t going to be about Malfoy.

Then he stopped to think about what Harry had just said. The only thing Hermione had done during lunch was laugh and explain the concept of brain bleach after he begged for a quick Obliviate. “Tell me what?”

“Um…” Harry was looking at a spot above Ron’s head and fiddling with his quill. He occasionally glanced at Ron, but mostly his eyes were fixed on that spot. “There was an accident in the Experimental Potions department.”

Experimental Potions? A very nasty suspicion began forming in Ron’s mind, one he immediately dismissed because of how cruel it was. His best friend wouldn’t do that do him. His girlfriend wouldn’t do that do him. “Isn’t that the department under review for unauthorized research? Something about using samples from past arrests?”

Harry nodded. Now he was looking at his desk, still with the occasional glance at Ron, and Ron stopped worrying that spot had a mysterious white stain he would never want to know the details of. “Kingsley was part of the surprise inspection team this morning, and a cauldron of their new Polyjuice exploded…”

“Are you telling me I spent the entire day thinking that was Malfoy, when it was Kingsley?” Ron screamed, and Harry nodded meekly. Anger fought with relief, relief won, and Ron sat back in his chair. “Thank Merlin.”

“Ron?”

“You don’t understand, Harry. I was so scared. No, I was terrified. After months of blissful silence, months of not listening to squeaking bedsprings, whimpers of ‘more, please’, you screaming…” Ron shook his head, shaking off the old memories he wished he didn’t have. “I thought I was going to go insane if I heard you shouting to the heavens again.” Ron said, and Harry blushed and puffed up like an offended blowfish.

“I am not that loud.”

“You keep thinking that, mate, and I’ll keep pretending I never heard.”