Bugger off, Ron!

“Bugger Off, Ron!!”

By: Adrial

Arrgghh! This was *supposed* to be the 6^th chapter of `To be or not be a Weasley', but somewhere along the line, I got a bit…erm…carried away and ended up having a lot more fun than I'd originally intended. ;-) Anyhow, I hope you find some amusement in it. I was nearly in stitches writing it…

---A one-shot dedicated to all those girls with obnoxious brothers and muddled love lives. You're not alone, ladies, believe me. ---

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Ginny sighed pensively, running a comb through her damp auburn curls gently. Hermione entered the room, interrupting her thoughts briefly; her face was painted a deep shade of red, the kind of red that meant she was supremely miffed, the kind of red that reached all the way from her ears to her hairline, the kind of red that was associated with a rather nasty battle with a rather thick-minded boy named Ronald Weasley. She was muttering incoherently beneath her breath.

Ginny smiled to herself. Somebody'd just had a row with her brother.

“What did he say this time, `Mione?” She glanced over at her fuming friend and tried to squelch her urge to let out a bemused laugh.

Hermione was in a right state, with her thick brown curls askew and scarlet cheeks, and Ginny noticed the film of sweat that coated her face, giving her a frantic glow.

“Ooooh! He-oh-I..I just-OH!-He makes me so…! Grrr! I can't believe…!—the NERVE!” Hermione was gesticulating wildly with her hands, stomping back and forth in a crude form of pacing. Ginny set down her comb and steered Hermione's sputtering form over to her bed.

“Sit down,” She said as she pushed slightly on Hermione's shoulders until she was seated on the edge of the bed. Ginny knew that whatever Ron had done to make Hermione, the ever-wise-and-articulate-one, sputter incoherently, it had to have been bad—really bad.

Hermione having seemingly lost all her steam, deflated right before Ginny's eyes into a tired face and slumped shoulders. Even her hair fell limply over her shoulders and back, hiding her face from view as she laid her head dejectedly on Ginny's shoulder.

Ginny rubbed her back soothingly, something her mum had always done for her whenever one of her brothers had done something particularly horrid to her.

“I hate boys. I wish they'd all go bugger off!” Hermione mumbled into Ginny's shoulder. Ginny's eyebrows rose.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Hermione lifted her heavy head and Ginny gasped at the sign of unreleased tears glittering in her eyes.

“No…I mean, yes, but oh, I just don't know, Gin!”

Ginny nodded, knowing exactly what she needed to do. She gave Hermione a one-armed hug and told her to wait and that she'd be right back.

Hermione sniffled and nodded. When Ginny returned, she was toting a large, lumpy black bag and sporting a devious grin.

Hermione eyed the bag wearily, unsure as to whether or not Ginny had some hair-brained scheme in mind that would get them killed, or worse, expelled. (AN: Ha! I always loved that line!)

Ginny tossed a heavy looking bat onto the bed. It reminded Hermione of the thick bats Beaters used to knock opposing teammates off their brooms during Quidditch matches. She swallowed.

“What on earth is that for, Ginny?” She made to lift the wooden-looking stick and was surprised when it rose easily off of the bed.

Ginny panted slightly and let the bag fall from her shoulder.

“Do you ever wonder how I've survived living with 6 brothers all this time?” She quirked an eyebrow. Hermione shrugged, still puzzled.

“Oh, come on, Hermione! I'm good, but let's face it, 15 years of Fred and George-induced jokes and Ron sticking his fat head into in my life every two seconds? Any normal witch would have cracked by now. But thankfully,” She gestured at the bag and began to unzip it, “I've had this.”

Ginny finished unzipping the zipper and bowed gallantly before Hermione as if she were one of Bob Barker's Beauties (a seemingly immortal muggle wireless host). Her curious brown eyes opened wide in shock as the bag began to ripple and rise from the floor as if possessed by a poltergeist. Within a few moments, actual limbs began to form, and a round bob on top popped up in imitation of what would be a human head. Soon, a 5 foot replica of a human body stood before them, but it was still entirely black, as if someone had magically removed all the color from it.

“Erm…Gin…are you putting me on?” She backed further onto Ginny's bed, more unnerved by the faceless body than anything.

Ginny giggled, “I'm not finished yet! Here, take the mallet…Oh, go on now, `Mione! It isn't going to bite—there, now.” She smiled approvingly as Hermione held the wooden mallet loosely in her hands and stood up shakily.

“Now, repeat after me.”

Hermione nodded slightly, wondering if Ginny had gone off her rocker or something.

“All you have to do is say, Pupigi Extundo while focusing very hard on Ron's face. There, now, stand in front of it…just like that.”

Hermione swallowed again. This was completely batty. But, if only to humor Ginny's attempts to console her, she shrugged and said half-heartedly, “Pupigi Extundo.”

Nothing.

“Oh, come on, Hermione! You're not trying! Aren't you supposed to be the cleverest witch at Hogwarts?” Ginny sighed exasperatedly, “I know you can do better than that. Focus on Ron's face. Think of all the rotten things he's done to you, his snores, his red hair for Merlin's sake, ANYTHING.”

Hermione clenched her hand tighter around the bat and inhaled deeply.

Alright then…Ron…erm…let's see… She pictured Ron scowling at her from over his latest procrastinated homework assignment, miffed because she wouldn't let him copy hers.

A drop of fury sparked in her eye.

Always looking for a way out, aren't you Ronald? Well, what if next time you needed help, I wasn't there…hmm? Where would you be then?

Ginny smiled from her perch on her vanity chair, watching as fury slowly gathered in Hermione's gaze. That's it, Herm; you've nearly got it…

Hermione's brown eyes darkened. Always shoving me off until you need something. Never willing to say thank you or `gee, Hermione, I really am grateful for a friend like you'. Never noticing me for more than a quick answer to a question. Always flapping that dreadful mouth of yours at me as if I'm daft. Never realizing that I was a girl until FOURTH YEAR! Making me feel stupid feelings and say stupid things! You stupid…GIT!

Suddenly, Hermione growled loudly and bellowed, “PUPIGI EXTUNDO!!”

As if to mimic the face burning a hole behind her vision, the human silhouette began shuddering; red hair sprang from its scalp and black skin drained into a pale, freckly hue. The sightless eyes turned liquid blue and long, gangly arms and legs appeared. Soon, Hermione was staring face to face with a live version of Ron Weasley.

Ginny giggle excitedly, “Go on, Hermione! Sock him a good one!” She was bouncing in her seat, tickled to pieces at having been able to share her secret with someone who probably could have used it more than her.

Hermione bit her lip and threw a cautious glance at Ginny.

“I-I can't!” She let the mallet drop to her side. The zombie-like Ron remained silent, its blue eyes flitting around the room with the same lop-sided mouth as Ron.

Ginny rolled her eyes dramatically, “Oh, sure you can, Hermione! Just focus on every rotten thing he's ever said to you. Believe me, you'll feel loads better. Here, let me show you.”

Ginny stood purposefully and drew a breath, taking the mallet from Hermione and facing the Ron-look-alike. She thought of the incident from the previous afternoon after she'd gotten a letter from a particular wizard, and the way he'd made her so angry she'd had to run off before she caused him bodily damage.

Suddenly, the `Ron' standing before her began moving its lips.

“Dean Thomas is a wanker, Gin! You're too young to date!”

Ginny growled, “Bugger off, you great big oaf!” And she pounded the mallet into `Ron's' stomach. It doubled over for a moment before snapping back up, silent once again.

I'll never get tired of this thing. Ginny reluctantly handed over the mallet to Hermione, who was silently in awe of what Ginny had just done. It looked like fun.

“See? I feel better already!” Ginny smiled brightly and prodded Hermione towards the silent Ron.

Hermione bit her lip and grasped onto the fury she'd felt before. Before she'd begun to gather her thoughts to work up her anger, it began speaking once again. A scowl appeared on its face.

“You're such a know-it-all! I wish you'd stop pestering me all the bloody time! I've got quidditch practice tomorrow! Other girls aren't this—OOF!”

Hermione had slammed the mallet into his kneecap. It sprang backwards and then back like rubber. Hermione's lips slid hesitantly into a grin.

“Gin.”

“Hmm?”

“Have I ever told you that you're my favorite Weasley?”

“Oh, get on with it! It's loads of fun to watch.” Ginny giggled.

Hermione turned back to the scowling Ron.

“Now, Ronald, you know studying comes before sports,” She reprimanded mirthfully. Ron's face screwed up in annoyance.

“You can't tell me what to do! But hey, since we're talking, would you mind running to the library and getting a book on confounding potions for me? I've been meaning to play a game of chess before—OUCH!”

Hermione throttled him with the bat and he nearly flew over backwards, but right before he hit the ground, he bounced back up, scowling even worse.

“Do you like that, Ron? Hmm? Didn't think I could hit, did you? Have a taste of this!” She whacked him beautifully in his face, loving the power she felt—in a barbaric sort of way, anyway.

“And you know what, Ronald?” She said, her tone dripping with false sweetness, “I-HATE-BLOODY-QUIDDITCH!!!!” Hermione annunciated each word with a sound blow to Ron's legs, his face, his neck, his chest, anywhere she could reach.

Ginny dissolved into giggles until she could take it no longer, “Oh, let me have a go!” She grabbed the mallet from Hermione's hands and took her place before the now meek-looking form of her would-be brother.

Immediately, Ron turned on her, “If I see you with another bleeding boy, Gin, I'm going to—OOF!” Ginny had shut up him with the fat end of the bat.

“To what, Ronald? Do…this?!” She pummeled him in the stomach. “Or perhaps a bit of THAT?!” Ron's double was knocked over by the force of her blow. She grinned, panting slightly.

“Hey, Ron! Guess what! I have a crush on Malfoy! Oy! How d'you like that, big bro?!” She socked him in the stomach.

Hermione gasped at this sudden exclamation but before she could say anything, she was laughing at the way its nose jiggled back in place after Ginny had whacked it in blissfully. Crookshanks slinked silently into the room, took one glance at the events partaking and quickly made his exit. The Ron before the two girls turned on Hermione again.

“So how's Vicky been, Herm? Has he gotten a hold of your knickers yet? I just bet he'd love to, the slimy, pompous git—BLOODY HELL!!”

Hermione had grabbed the mallet from Ginny's hands abruptly, aimed precisely, and sent the bat directly between Ron's legs with renewed fervor.

“His name is Victor, you great blathering prat!” It took a few moments before Ron's double finally un-slumped itself and faced them once again, though its hands were now firmly shielding his nether region from further abuse.

She wiped her brow and felt more at ease than she had all summer long. With an elated grin she tossed the mallet back to Gin, who gave Ron one more healthy knock in his skull before muttering, Ira Procuro underneath her breath. Soon, the scowling Ron had deflated and was now a shiny black bag, lying rumpled on Ginny's bedroom floor.

Breathing hard from combined laughter and shortness of breath, the girls fell backwards onto Ginny's bed.

“Ginny! Where on earth did you get that thing? I'd bet loads of girls would die to have one.”

Ginny grinned, “Mum passed it down to me. It's the one hand-me-down I've never wanted to hand back. She said she'd used it nearly three times a week when she and Dad were dating and he'd say or do stupid things.”

Hermione chortled, “Looks like it's a gene he passed on to Ron.”

Ginny nodded fervently, “If there's one thing to learn about the Weasley men, it's that they're all of three things: notoriously noble, brutally honest, and impossibly thick-skulled.”

As if on cue, footsteps were heard on the stairs below them and Ron's voice bellowed up to them, “Oi! What are you two doing up there?! Trying to tear the bloody house down?!”

“BUGGER OFF, RON!!” Two female commands followed.

Downstairs, Ron looked wearily at a smirking Harry. “They make dementors look like pixies, those two.”

In the kitchen, Molly Weasley hid her giggling face with a dish cloth, her eyes sparkling and knowing.

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heh heh heh…

Review! I've heard it does wonders for your erm...uh…hair follicles? Oh, hell, that's mayonnaise…whatever, just get cracking on those reviews!

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