If not the absolute worst idea in wizarding history, it was definitely in the top ten, somewhere around substituting nightsoil for nightshade in a Darksight potion and "hey, guys, watch me jump over this Bottomless Pit!".
The one saving grace of the situation was that (for once, Ron had to admit), it hadn't been his idea.
And Ginny was still sitting her OWLs.
And they were using Whiffle Bludgers.
Okay, and Katie Bell without a shirt on.
Well, so maybe it wasn't the *worst* idea ever. He was still pretty sure that when Madame Hooch had agreed to cast an Obscuring Charm on the Quidditch pitch so they could practice secret new formations, this was not what she had in mind.
But post-exam euphoria and a friendly challenge from the Hufflepuff team were a potent combination, and when Dennis Creevey had said "Hey, we should play for some kind of stakes," and Anne Hexington had said "Welll..." in the kind of suggestive drawl that preceded either a really good or a really bad idea...
Oh, and hey! Natalie had scored, and the Hufflepuffs were conferring - bother, Hil Summerby still had his shirt on, it would almost definitely be him.
Ron idly considered whether the rumor was true that Hil was short for Hilarius. And maybe Bella was short for Belarus...
Ron snapped to attention as the Hufflepuff chasers drove down the field and blocked the Quaffle easily as they arced it towards the hoop. They recovered fast, he blocked again, then a quick reverse block, then in the corner of his eye he saw Lashana Penter's lace bra and Hufflepuff scored.
Anne and Lashana were chanting "Harr-y! Harr-y!" again, and Harry was again blushing fiercely. (And Zacharias Smith was scowling at everybody.)
"It's okay, Harry, I don't mind," volunteered Natalie McDonald. "Heck, if Katie can do it, right?" Ron, having lost his own shirt about five minutes into the game, had nothing to add - he wasn't about to sacrifice his trousers for Harry's modesty. But Harry had darkened under his blush.
"I think I can equal a chivalrous third-year," he said, and grasped the hem firmly and peeled off his shirt.
Anne and Lashana (and Hil, Ron noticed) broke out into whoops and cheers.
"Ooh baby," Anne yelled, zooming around him, "Looks like *someone's* getting some!"
Ron peered over at Harry - and nearly fell off his broom at the sight of the impressive hickey just below his collarbone.
***
He had known since Dean had found that Purity Test that Harry had had some sort of ... something. With someone. Ron had himself once had a something with someone, and had decided not to press Harry for details... besides, Harry had calmed down a lot since fifth year, but from time to time he would still... snap.
While thinking this, Ron absentmindedly blocked a high fast throw from Zacharias Smith, knocking the Quaffle to Katie Bell, who took off down the pitch.
Bloke needs his space, Ron had decided. But this thing of Harry's was apparently still going. And that made Ron wonder.
Harry wasn't telling him about it. Harry had a *reason* not to tell him about it. Like he thought Ron would object.
Ginny? No, she was dating some Ravenclaw, what was his name, and anyways Ron had confessed the previous summer, when Ginny was owling Lawson Blood twice a day, that he wished she had just gone for Harry after all. Harry had mm-hmmd.
Lashana was coming back down the field now, but, no, a well-placed Bludger from Dennis and they were back to the Hufflepuff side.
Maybe a boy? After Cho, Harry had always been vague about his attractions. But surely he'd picked up from the whole Seamus-and-Dean thing that Ron wouldn't be fazed.
He really didn't think Harry would shag someone running around, and Seamus' pet notion - that it was a teacher - couldn't hold water if it was transfigured to a bucket.
There was a blur of action low on the pitch. Ron tuned it out completely.
Not Ginny, not a cheater, not a teacher. That left Slytherins.
Ever since the Ministry had come around, the Slytherins had been... quiet. No signs of rejoicing after the second Azkaban breakout... still some duelling, of course, the occasional sneak attack, but nothing really dramatic after that incident on the train last year.
Ron frowned. Really the duelling had gotten a *lot* less... dramatic. Malfoy still aimed curses at Harry's back in the hallways, but it was almost as if Harry had given up dodging. Hermione had fretted at him about death wishes and something called "survivor's guilt", if Harry was just letting himself get hit... but Ron had figured Harry's danger sense had gotten sharp enough to tell Malfoy wasn't any real threat. Since they were *silly* curses. Like the one that made frogs fall from Harry's mouth whenever he spoke: the thing was, Harry *liked* frogs. Or one that stood Harry's hair on end and left him giving little electric shocks if you touched him - a little annoying, but nothing to go to Madame Pomfrey about.
And in retaliation, Harry did things like grow vines up from the ground under Malfoy that wrapped around him and pinned his wand arm to his side. "Were they poison ivy?" Ron had asked eagerly, and Harry had shaken his head. Honeysuckle, Hermione had told him later, she had gone back to see if Malfoy was still stuck there and had only found a few scattered leaves. *Honeysuckle*. It was practically like one of the prank bouquets Neville gave Justin...
All at once, Ron had an Insight.
***
Some people, in their moments of Insight, come up with a theory of gravity, or the theme for their next symphony.
Ron put Malfoy and Harry's hickey together.
He was oblivious as Zacharias and Anne raced straight at him down the pitch. He sat on his broom like a sack of potatoes, and as precariously balanced.
Hufflepuff scored three times in quick succession and Natalie and Dennis pulled Ron down to the ground and dragged his trousers off as a penalty. He hardly noticed.
Harry swooped down worriedly and asked if he was okay. Ron blinked at him and mechanically got back on his broom, sliding awkwardly on his bare legs.
His best friend was shagging his worst enemy.
Okay, wait. Malfoy, while an irritating prat, was hardly a menace on the level of You-Know-Who. Hadn't he just admitted the Slytherins had been quiet lately? He'd hardly have noticed Malfoy if he wasn't still attacking... er, "attacking"... Harry.
Lashana cut in for a slam-pop and Ron automatically moved into a high-low counter. She responded with a try at a quick twist-evasion and Ron couldn't help but notice the resultant... bounce... in certain features.
Ron peered over at Harry, who was circling in an almost lackadaisical fashion, leaning back on his broom and glancing up and down the pitch like he hadn't a care in the world, especially not something as inconsequential as the Snitch.
He looked... he looked *relaxed*. This was, Ron thought, an improvement over the fall term, the previous summer, and all of fifth year. Ron thought hard... Harry had been quite glum over the holiday, but had seemed more cheerful since he'd... since he'd started going for long walks alone late at night under his Invisibility Cloak, which, now that Ron thought about it, had probably been a Sign. Or a Clue. Or something.
Summerby abruptly dove into another long, desperate streak towards what Ron suspected, looking over at the stand where he was aiming, was probably a bit of foil off a Chocolate Frog.
He made a save on a long pass from Anne without even thinking about it, and turned in time to see her making faces at him. He grinned back.
Yeah, life was pretty good, sunny day, friendly game of Quidditch, topless teammates... from the look of things Harry wasn't going to catch the Snitch 'til they had everyone down to their smalls. Bliss.
Malfoy... it was weird. Okay, it was more than weird, it was... he thought of Malfoy on the Inquisitorial Squad... it was something. Like when Scabbers turned out to be Wormtail, or Mad-Eye Moody turned out to be Crouch Jr... it was a turning out to be. But, Ron figured smugly, full of sixteen-year-old wisdom, he'd learned to take these reversals in hand, especially when, hey, Lashana was stripping off her trousers with a look of grinning defiance.
And with that, he resumed his pondering of whether it would be worthwhile to let a few by in hopes of getting Katie Bell to do the same...
***
He told Hermione later.
She smiled at him fondly. "I was wondering when you'd figure it out," she said.
Ron sputtered at her. "Wait, you - you didn't *tell* me?"
Hermione looked at him placidly. "I knew you'd get it," she said.
"But," Ron said.
Hermione looked at him expectantly.
"But," Ron said again.
Hermione nodded encouragingly.
"Well..." Ron finally said weakly, "Do you think he knows what he's doing?"
Hermione shrugged. "It's not the worst idea ever."
::End::
Author's Note: Yeah, so I wanted to write a Harry/Draco fic in which Ron a) wasn't clueless and b) did not freak out... I know I'm sort of cheating by first distracting Very!Het!Ron with boobies, and then disarming him with Hermione being maddeningly serene and earnest, but I do hope (intend! intend!) to touch more on the "Gryffindors finally get it" theme in the next (real) sequel. (And, whee, frogs! vine bondage! and you just know Draco was having some fun with that "little electric shocks" thing later...)