I Hate Ron

It was Friday night. The whole common room was packed. Harry was beginning to worry where Hermione was as she would usually to be found studying on the desk he was standing beside.

Harry wiped a bead of sweat form his brow. He had been playing Quidditch and worked up quite the sweat. For reasons unknown to Harry, Oliver Wood had returned to Hogwarts. Whenever somebody asked him why, Wood would pick up one of the twins' bats (Harry didn't know how but there was always one near him) and beat them to death with it. Three deaths so far and nobody was asking any more questions. Harry left Ron to get some practice in with Wood as he desperately wanted to get onto the house team. Every year he tried out for the team and he was always beaten. Harry thought Ron was turning into quite the gracious loser, and by loser, Harry meant insanely competitive loser.

Just then, Harry heard the portrait door open. Hermione came up behind him and did a merry jig once or twice on her way.

"Hey Hermione!" Harry said.

"Hey Harry, oh, I've got something to tell you," she said happily.

"Go ahead," Harry said sitting down on his favourite seat.

"Well, okay. Harry, I really like you. Not as a person or as a friend. I like you as a boy."

"Wow Hermione, well, I guess I like you too. Wait, since when did you like me?"

"Oh, I remember the night perfectly, it was the night you were in the hospital wing from the final task after the tournament. I had just caught that bitch Skeeter and placed the unbreakable charm on the jar. I was about to tell everybody. But, when I looked up, I just saw you from this perfect angle the light from the moon giving you this perfectly chiseled look on your face. Then, I went over while the others were arguing and was about to give you the biggest wet willy in the world when you snorted. It was the most adorable thing I've ever seen."

"But, I was under the impression you liked Ron, I mean, you seemed to fight all the time, surely that means you like him, right?"

"What?"

"Well, you know, it's just that you're always arguing, I just thought that you might like him. Oh stop looking at me like that, you know what I mean, it's the way you're supposed to behave, you treat the ones you like as if you don't like them, so they never know or suspect anything."

"Harry, I have to say, yes, that does make sense. FOR FUCKING EIGHT YEAR OLDS! Come on Harry! Give our generation a little more credit!"

"Sorry, so, what about Ginny? I mean, she'll hardly be pleased we're going out."

"That's what I've been thinking, and I think she'll go out with Draco in the next few years or so."

"Draco? Are you insane? He's practically already a Eeath eater! Why the fuck would you say something like that?"

"Oh Harry, isn't it obvious? He's just looking for attention. It's quite sad when you think about it, I mean, his dad is just a coward, a slave for You-Know-Who. He probably doesn't get enough attention at home, his mother a simple trophy wife and all. And then Ginny, well, she's just attracted to evil isn't she? I mean, really, she'll just fall for his cold stare alone."

"Huh, it does kinda make sense now. But, what about Ron? And Viktor? Won't they be pissed?"

"Ugh, Victor, he's such a bastard, seriously, all he was after was my hair, he said he always wanted bushy hair. Three times I found him trying to cut my hair and make it into a wig."

"So that's why you had your hair cut during the summer?"

"Yes. I thought about growing it with magic, but I heard that it's awfully hard to tame. Anyway, about Ron, well, the only person I think of when I see him as a part of a couple is his hand."

"You mean?"

"Yep, apparently Gunny hears it all the time. Squeaky bedsprings dontcha know?"

"Dontcha know what?"

Ron was evidently finished training for today.

Hermione whispered in Harry's ear, "Wizards actually grow hair on their hands if they masturbate. No joke, apparently it's the sole effect of a charm mothers place on their kids when they hit puberty."

"What were you two talking about?" Ron cried out.

"Oh nothing, just thinking of what to get you for your birthday, say, is that a blister on your palm?"

"Huh? I can't see any blisters," Ron said, holding up his hand for inspection.

"Show me," Hermione ordered.

And sure enough, there on Ron's hand were tiny little bright red hairs growing out of the cracks of his palm.

Harry looked up at Ron with a calm expression on his face. "Wanker."