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‘I can’t believe she’s going out with Dean Thomas,’ he muttered mutinously, glaring at his sister across the scruffy lawn. Ginny, oblivious to his grumbling, continued to feed the chickens, but Hermione looked up at him, bemused.
She had only arrived that morning, and as nobody seemed to be able to tell them when Harry would turn up they had ended up lounging on the warm grass in the garden so they could speculate him without his mother hearing. The topic had almost exclusively been about Harry so far, which Ron didn’t mind too much as he had a lot of thoughts, but the sight of Ginny cheerfully scattering chicken feed had provided a good opportunity for him to launch into something else - something Hermione might disagree with him on.
‘You can’t still be annoyed about that?’ she said, clearly amused. ‘She told you on the train. She seems quite happy with him.’
‘Yeah, but Dean?’ he said, grimacing. ‘Dean?’
‘What’s wrong with Dean?’ laughed Hermione. ‘Lots of girls like Dean, she’s done well.’
A flash of irritation sparked through him. ‘Well… he’s… I mean he’s fine. Y’know, I don’t have a problem with the bloke.’
‘Mmm,’ said Hermione, nodding slowly and looking back down at her newspaper with a smirk. ‘Yeah, no problem.’
‘I just think she could aim a bit higher,’ he said stubbornly. ‘You know… you might - I’m sure everyone thinks Dean’s brilliant, but I know him, I share a dorm with him.’
‘Is there something we should know about him?’ she asked, with an eyebrow raised. ‘Some secret nastiness?’
‘I… no. But, you know - I’ve heard him making all the rude jokes.’
‘What jokes?’ she asked.
He felt embarrassed; his ears felt hot. He glanced over his shoulder to check his mother wasn’t looking out of the window, turned back to Hermione, and made a brief, small gesture that made her burst into spluttered laughter and gasp.
‘Is that what you lot all talk about in the boys’ dorm?’ she said, with an expression that suggested she couldn’t decide if she was appalled or entertained. ‘Ron!’
‘Some of us are classier than that,’ he lied in a dignified voice. ‘And look, there’s nothing wrong with Dean, really, I just don’t think he’s good enough for her.’
She sighed. ‘Oh, Ron.’
‘What?’
‘No one is going to be good enough for you, are they? You can’t expect her to become a nun.’
‘I think she’d look good in a wimple.’
Hermione reluctantly giggled, and shook her head. ‘You’re just being over protective - you have unreasonable expectations. There’s nothing wrong with Dean - I think even the occasional rude joke can be looked past.’
He scoffed disbelievingly, but he was glad they were talking about something more light hearted than how their best friend was coping with grief or what the prophecy could have been about or what would happen now. He didn’t want them to go back to her reading out depressing stuff from the Daily Prophet and having to discuss how awful it was and whether or not the rumours of inferi were true.
‘I don’t think my expectations are unreasonable,’ he said. ‘Just high. There probably is someone good enough out there for her, it’s just not Dean, or Michael Corner.’
‘Who then?’ she challenged. ‘Come on, what kind of person would be good enough for your baby sister? What are these high-but-not-unreasonable expectations?’
‘Well…’ he said slowly, watching as Ginny finished with the chickens and went back into the house. ‘Er…’
Hermione snorted.
‘No, no, no, give me a second… I… someone…. someone like Harry.’
Her eyebrows raised so much they almost vanished into her wild, soft hair. ‘Harry?’ she said in amazement. ‘You want her to go out with Harry?’
‘I didn’t say that,’ he said quickly. ‘Don’t put words in my mouth, I said someone like Harry.’
‘Well, Harry is the most like Harry that-’
‘I didn’t say Harry,’ he said firmly, holding out his hands as though to quash the suggestion. ‘I said someone like Harry.’
‘Meaning?’
‘Well, you know…’ he gestured vaguely. ‘I know he’s a good bloke, and if she was in trouble, he’d go out of his way to help her - and not just because she was his girlfriend or something. He’s done that before. Didn’t see Dean going down into the Chamber of Secrets, did you?’
She laughed even louder. ‘You can’t seriously hold that against him? Ron! If one of your expectations is that they must have already saved her life, then I’m sorry, but-’
‘And,’ he continued loudly, as Hermione shook with laughter, ‘it’d have to be someone with the same kind of humour as Harry, someone I’d get along with, you know?’
‘But Ginny would be the one dating him, not you,’ Hermione said, ‘plus you do get along with Dean.’
‘Not anymore, I don’t,’ he said hotly. ‘You don’t date your mate’s sister, everyone knows that. Just shows that Dean doesn’t follow-’
‘Ridiculous made up rules?’
‘The unwritten rules of what is and isn’t acceptable,’ he corrected firmly. ‘Who knows what other boundaries he’ll push? With someone like Harry, at least you know he’d feel so bloody lucky to have her that he’d treat her right - someone who’s been through it a bit so they know the value of what they have.’
‘Sounds like you want her to date Harry,’ said Hermione idly.
‘No, I said someone like Harry,’ he protested yet again. ‘I mean, yeah, Harry’s probably just about the only man I could tolerate her with right now, but I’m not saying Harry as in Harry, I’m saying someone like Harry - someone with Harry qualities.’
‘Ah, Ron,’ she said, with a slight tut and a sympathetic tilt of her head. ‘There’s no one like Harry, he’s one of a kind.’
The fun was over. ‘Harry’s not that special,’ he said, slipping into surliness and leaning back further on his elbows so she couldn’t see his face. ‘That’s what I’m saying,’ he muttered. ‘There are men out there that would be chivalrous enough to risk their lives for a girl, without automatically seeing themselves as a hero about it and feeling entitled. Harry’s one of them, but it’s not like he’s the only one.’
Hermione hummed in agreement. ‘Dean might be one of those people too, though. Plus,’ she added lightly, ‘Harry’s not perfect. I expect he makes rude jokes with you all too, doesn’t he?’
Ron sniffed and cleared his throat. ‘I’m telling you, Hermione,’ he said in a low voice, ‘I’m the only one that doesn’t join in with that childish rubbish.’
He could tell she didn’t believe him, but it didn’t matter, because she was laughing again, and he wanted very much for that lovely sound to continue.
‘Neville’s the worst for it,’ he added sagely, renewing her laughter once more. ‘Absolutely filthy.’