It's A Girl Thing

It's A Girl Thing

Ron Weasley glanced around himself cautiously, noting that his corner of the Gryffindor Common Room was deserted- the coast was clear. Before him, on the table halfway beneath several old tomes and a little purse of make-up that Lavender Brown had forgotten, sat a stack of magazines. Their covers boldly displayed beautiful women in stylish clothes, oddly still, as though frozen in time. Around their faces were little attention-grabbing headlines: Top Ten Best Ways to Make Him Yours, One Piece Swimsuits and various plugs for pop idols he'd never heard of before.

He didn't see what was so special about those flimsy magazines that had caused the girls to react the way they did. Tutting and covering them from his curious eyes, as though the secrets of the universe were hidden within. And perhaps, he mused, they were; perhaps those silly books would reveal something that had mystified him from the beginning. The female psyche.

"It's a girl thing," Lavender had said, looking down her dainty, pointed nose at him through dark lashes, as though he wasn't actually a foot taller than her. Parvati had nodded vigorously, and even Hermione had made a vague sound of agreement.

It was all quite... odd, and altogether intriguing. There was a fire of curiosity lit within him now, and the moment they'd taken off to chase after Neville's toad (Trevor had snatched their quills with his long tongue and hopped away before anyone could stop him), Ron found that an opportunity had presented itself. One that he could not miss.

And so, with another quick, entirely conspicuous glance around the red-furnished Common Room, the youngest male Weasley shoved the magazines under a stack of parchment and books he'd been using for his (unfinished) Transfiguration's homework, and hurried to the stairs and freedom. The sound of voices was thankfully absent when he reached the dorm room he shared with Harry, Dean, Seamus and Neville. Entering he discovered that his hopes were confirmed; the room was empty.

With a slight pang of guilt and a growing sense of apprehension, the sixteen year old settled down heavily on his bed, dropping his stack with a slight thud onto the quilt and drawing the curtains around him. It was dark, with only a little candlelight for illumination, so he quickly murmured, "Lumos!" and a soft glow emanated from the end of his wand.

Ron shifted the magazines out from under the books, and paused, hesitating a moment as his eyes flickered over the flashy images. He swallowed, reaching out to tentatively lift the little book and hold it close to his face, fingers flipping through the pages inside. There were nearly as many pretty girls inside as an issue of Play Wizard (which he had *never* seen before, of course, he reminded himself). Long articles with bright pictures illustrating the sides darted before his vision, all discussing boys, clothes and make-up.

'Is this all girls think about?' Ron wondered, pausing as he reached a large picture of an especially pretty girl advertising some kind of lipstick. The sound of the door opening made him nearly fall off his bed, and his heart pounded heavily at the sound of soft footsteps drawing closer to him.

"Ron? You in here?" Harry called, and Ron swallowed thickly, hoping his best friend would find what he was looking for and leave. The footsteps stopped outside of the curtains, and Ron waited silently. "Have you seen my--"

Whatever Harry was going to say next was cut off as the curtains swung open and Harry blinked down at him in surprise. Ron tried to hide the magazine he was holding beneath a fold in his robe, but unfortunately Harry had already seen the others and reached out to inspect one.

"Ron, what's this?" Harry asked, sounding bemused, and from the look of recognition in his eyes, he obviously already knew what it was.

"Nothing," Ron grumbled, folding his arms across his chest and stubbornly ignoring the heat that had risen to his cheeks. More footsteps sounded on the stairs, this time accompanied by the sound of voices which he recognized as Seamus and Dean. Ron looked up at Harry pleadingly, and Harry's smile curved up into a smirk that completely shocked the red-haired boy.

"So that's why- Oy, Harry, what's that?" Seamus asked, abandoning his conversation with Dean as he drew nearer to the two boys at Ron's bed. His eyes widened when he noticed the girl on the cover, and a wry smile spread across his face. "That's not a Play Wizard, is it, Harry?"

Dean rolled his eyes at his best friend. "Of course it's not, you idiot. Are the pictures moving?"

Seamus blinked in surprise. "You mean it's Muggle? Where'd you get that?"

He pointed at Ron, who was trying to shove the rest of the magazines beneath the quilt on his bed without being noticed. Realizing the other boys' attention was on him, he blushed and twisted the sleeve of his robe nervously. "Um... they're not mine, actually, they're Lavender Brown's..."

"Why would you have Lavender's magazines?" Harry asked.

"Bloody Hell! Look, I was just curious, all right?" Ron exploded, face glowing red. "That's not a crime, is it?"

The other three looked slightly taken aback by his outburst, and Ron fidgeted under the weight of their gazes uncomfortably. Harry glanced down at the magazine in his hand, remembering how his Aunt Petunia had always liked to read the trashy super market tabloids. He'd read one once, when the rest of them had gone to a party and left him home alone. He'd only been about eight at the time and most of it made little sense to him (he'd barely been able to read the word "scandalized", let alone figure out what it meant), so he couldn't help but wonder if this was the same thing.

"They're not all that exciting," Harry commented, handing the magazine back to Ron, although he now had the strangest urge to know what kind of things were hidden beneath the bright covers. "My aunt used to read the tabloids- it was nothing but stories about people cheating on their lovers and stuff like that."

Dean shook his head. "No, these are different. My cousin Shelley always brought those with her whenever she was visiting. Her and her friends would sit around reading them and giggling for hours. Then they'd take over the bathroom for god knows what, and come out later leaving the place trashed and smelling for weeks."

"Thank God my sister's too young for that," Seamus muttered, eyeing the magazines suspiciously. "I mean, look at that one: Friendship Quiz- How Do Your Friends Really See You? Why the hell would you have to take a quiz on that? If you're really friends, you'd already know something like that."

Dean 'hmm-ed' thoughtfully. "Well that's not necessarily true. I don't know what you think of me."

To everyone's surprise, the Irish boy blushed. "Well, I don't see how some dumb quiz is going to tell you *that*."

"Erm... right," Dean said at last, staring at his best friend in confusion.

"We could find out, you know," Harry suggested. "I mean, it's not like it's going to hurt or anything. And I'm kinda curious about what Ron thinks anyway."

Ron shrugged and pulled out a quill and piece of parchment, while Harry flipped through the magazine to find the right page. Seamus and Dean sat down on the end of bed, and Harry settled himself next to Ron. He waited as Ron gave Dean an extra parchment and quill, and then cleared his throat. "All right. It says to mark your answer and then add them up at the end. The first question is: How long have you been friends? A: A few weeks to a few months, B: A few months to a few years, or C: Since we were little."

"I guess that's B for both of us," Dean said, writing down his answer.

"Okay, number two: What kind of things does she invite you to the most? A: Parties, B: Shopping at the mall, or C: Family functions." The three boys blinked collectively, and Harry shrugged. "I'd say C for me and Ron, since I go to the Burrow every summer."

Ron nodded in agreement and marked the answer. Dean looked up, thinking for a moment. "Probably parties. He's the one that always drags me down to the Common Room after Quidditch victories."

"Next: How often do you argue? A: We never argue, B: She's sent me e-mails before if she's been upset with me, or C: We snap at each other all the time, but then make up again a second later."

"What's an e-mail?" Ron asked, confused. Harry shook his head, as lost as he was.

Dean looked surprised. "You don't know? Don't the Muggles you live with have a computer?"

He rolled his eyes. "Of course they do. But do you really think they'd let me touch it?"

"Oh. Well, it's like owls only it's on the computer, and it's a lot faster," Dean explained.

"C for us," Seamus said. "We never stop arguing."

Ron leaned over Harry's shoulder to reread the question. "I don't think any of those apply. But I guess C, too."

Harry was about to continue with the next question when the door opened and Neville entered, hidden behind a tall stack of books and parchments, with Trevor perched on top. He stopped when he noticed their sudden silence, and glanced out from behind his Potion's textbook. "What are you all doing? Oh, by the way, Hermione's looking for you Ron. She says Lavender's mad about something."

Ron swallowed and nodded. "Oh, um thanks, Neville."

The short boy placed his books on his desk and turned to look at them, eyebrows raising when he noticed the magazines half-hidden behind their robes and Ron's books. "Are those Lavender's magazines?"

Harry sighed. "Yes, and we'll return them after we're done. Ron here got curious and stole them."

"I did not!" Ron exclaimed indignantly. "I only wanted a look. I was going to give them back."

Neville approached them nervously, glancing between the magazines and the four boys on the bed. "Um, so what do they say?"

"Right now we're taking a quiz on friendship," Seamus explained in his thick accent. "Half of it doesn't make any sense at all, but these three seem dead set on analysing everything."

After Neville had settled himself in a nearby desk chair pulled up close to the bed, they continued. "When has she gotten the most upset with you?" Harry read. "A: When I made out with a boy she liked, B: When I didn't finish my half of the science project, or C: When I didn't help her baby-sit at her kid brother's birthday party."

They all stared at the magazine in silence. Seamus coughed, blushing. Dean glowered. "You know, maybe we should just skip that question..."

Harry, Ron and Neville all looked at them in shock. Ron recovered first. "I don't think I want to know..."

Harry nodded. "Right. Moving on... Do you know the names of your friend's family members? A: No. We don't really talk much about our families, B: She told me, but I forgot, or C: Of course! And how old they are, and what school they go to..."

"C," Ron said, quill scratching against the parchment. "You've even met all of them."

Seamus frowned. "But I thought your oldest brother was in Egypt or something?"

"He is, but he came up for a little while last summer while Harry was there," Ron answered.

"Probably C," Dean muttered, "even if it's hard to remember the names of six people you've never seen before."

"What's the biggest drama in her life that you helped her get through? A: When she got drunk at a party and I got her home, B: When she almost got held back a year at school and I helped her study, or C: When I was there for her during a death or divorce in the family."

Dean blushed and scribbled quickly on the parchment. "A. That was probably the biggest drama in *both* of our lives..."

"I'm learning much more about you two than I ever really wanted to know," Ron grumbled. "And none of those really work for us."

"Maybe B," Harry said at last. "I never had trouble passing, but you did help me during fifth year."

Ron nodded, remembering what Harry was referring to. After Cedric's death, Harry had become depressed, and had neglected his homework for awhile at the beginning of the year. While it was Hermione who helped him catch up, Ron had been the one to snap him out of it.

"Okay, now we just add up the scores," Harry said, taking the parchments from Dean and Ron. He counted up the number of each letter and then looked at the corresponding answers. "Me and Ron got the 'School Buddy'. The two of you may have only been hanging out for a little while, but this could be the start of a great friendship. Dean and Seamus, you guys got: Party Pals. When she's looking for a little fun, you're the one she turns to."

Seamus blushed to the roots of his hair, and Dean stared fixedly down at his hands. Ron coughed loudly. "Well, that was... informing. Maybe there's a reason why boys don't read these things."

Neville, who had apparently taken one of the extra magazines and had been reading quietly, looked up. "This says my spring scent is sweet and floral."

They all turned incredulous stares on him, and Neville blushed a dark crimson. Harry shifted on the bed, gathering the other notebooks to him. "Maybe Ron's right. I think we'd better just go return these."

Neville nodded and handed him the magazine, face still bright red. "Um, good idea. I think I'll just go get ready for bed now..."

The five boys quickly dispersed, leaving Harry alone with the magazines. He grabbed Ron's arm on the way by, stopping the other boy. "Oh no you don't. We're taking these back together, since you're the one that stole them in the first place."

Ron started to protest, but sighed when he noticed the determined glint in Harry's eyes."Oh all right, let's go. And don't worry, I learned my lesson. I am *never* going to read one of those again..."

~Owari