A/N: Behold the product of a sleep-deprived mind high on R/Hr-ness. Yay.

Disclaimer: I own nothing here. Nope.

Insanity

"Insanity! That's what it is!" Ron declared rather loudly as he burst into the dormitory he shared with his fellow Gryffindor sixth year boys.

"Err... what?" Harry inquired from where he was quietly reading on his bed.

The other boys were down in the common room, and Harry had taken the oppurtunity to be alone. He was halfway through the third chapter of "Quidditch Through the Ages", which he'd read many times before, but was feeling the need to read once again.

"That's what I've got. Yes. Insanity," Ron said somewhat triumphantly, closing the door behind him with flourish and striding over to his four- poster.

"Alright..." Harry put his finger on the page he was reading and closed his book slightly. "Why are you insane?"

Ron sat on his bed, a wide smile on his face as he began to fold socks. Harry had never seen him fold socks, and he knew that if Ron had ever done so in his right mind, he wouldn't have been smiling. Harry shifted to sit on the edge of his bed, feeling a tinge of worry flood into him.

"Her. It's all her fault," Ron replied, half-cheeful and half-maniacal.

"Does 'her' have a name?"

"Hermione."

Harry did his best to supress a grin. "Finally figured it out, have you?"

"Figured what out?" Ron continued folding socks, continuing his (insane) rant without alloting Harry time to answer the question. "You know, Harry, I'm surprised she didn't drive me batty sooner, what with all of her homework-loving-ness and her big hair. You'd think she'd come right out of the American 80s."

"Err... well, technically she did come out of the 80s--"

"It's just stupid, that big bush on her head she calls hair," he continued, more talking to himself than anything now. "Not at all attractive... well, except when she's out in the sunlight, because then it gets all shiny and turns different colors when she turns different ways-- GAH! See?" He looked up at Harry with desperate eyes. "I'm going on about her hair."

"Uhh..." Harry wasn't feeling very articulate at the moment.

"What's wrong with me Harry? Insanity aside?"

"I'd have to say it's just the insanity."

Ron shook his head and looked at the pile of folded socks sitting beside him. He was rather surprised by them, just seeming to realize that they were folded. He picked up a pair and stared at them with wide eyes.

"She did this."

Harry was confused. "No, she didn't. You did. I just watched you."

Ron let out an exasperated sigh. "No! I mean, she made me do this! You know how she is, going on about how the house elves don't need to have the extra chore of folding our laundry and whatnot. You know, I reckon I'm actually starting to listen to her! I mean, look at these! Look! They're all matched and folded!"

He waved a pair of red socks at Harry crazily. Harry nodded and thought it best to just let Ron talk.

"I can't take this, Harry! I'm tired of it! I hate it. Do you know how I spend most of my classes? I look at her. I watch her. I walk by and attempt to smell her without her knowing it. Then she'll look at me and I'll turn all red and wish the world would just break open so I could walk off into a crater and never be seen again. But then I think that'd be bad because I wouldn't get to see her anymore.

"Did I tell you about the time we were doing that Astronomy/Divination homework where we were supposed to learn more about the Zodiac? Well, Hermione and I were working on it while you were off doing something undoubtedly heroic," he said, not even pausing at Harry's indignant huff, "and we found out our signs were two of the most compatible signs around. You know what I did, Harry? You know what I did?"

"No," Harry muttered, still a little miffed.

"I blushed, then I got my stuff and came up here. Not bad, granted, because that wasn't the bad part. Oh, no! I couldn't just stop there. I had to read more about the Zodiac and get all these stupid ideas lodged in my brain--"

"I think you've had those stupid ideas lodged in your brain for quite some time. Come on, Ron, you've fancied Hermione for a long time-- you just haven't noticed until now."

"Oh, I've noticed," Ron was back to his maniacal tone, nodding quickly and absent-mindedly re-folding the sweaters in his trunk and packing them back in neatly. "I noticed last year when I was buying perfume for her Christmas gift. Could I just get her some books or some candy? Oh no! Had to get her perfume... bloody git... ack!"

He looked at the sweater in his hand as if it were from another planet. He tossed it down on the floor and threw himself back on his bed, putting his hands over his eyes as if that would make it all go away.

"Damn, damn, damn!"

Harry wasn't quite sure what to say to that. He watched Ron sit back up, his hair now all over the place. He was now bordering scary.

"I really wish this would stop," he muttered. "I'm so tired... I hate those butterflies I get in my stomach when she's around. They make me feel all queasy and then I can't finish eating that treacle tart at dinner. That's my favorite, too. But I keep hearing this little voice in the back of my head-- sounds a lot like 'Mione, too-- telling me it's bad for my teeth..."

"You've got it bad," Harry admitted.

"Don't I know it? Bloody hell." Ron collapsed back onto his bed again and took his pillow from near the headboard. He put it over his face, held on tight, and screamed into it for a few minutes.

Harry vaguely wondered if Ron was trying to suffocate himself.

"Ron? You alright, mate?"

Ron took the pillow off of his face and nodded slowly. "Yeah. I think so. I'm just... I'm going down to the kitchens now. I need some pumpkin juice and a good knock on the head. Maybe I'll run into Malfoy along the way... I'm sure he'll help in that endeavor."

Okay, now Harry was horrified. Ron was actually hoping to run into Malfoy? Despite his terror, Harry managed to find words.

"What if you run into Hermione?"

Ron stopped halfway through getting up, and looked thoughtful. "Maybe I should just stay here."

With that, he fell back on his bed again, and the rest of the evening was spent in silence-- until Neville tripped over Seamus' trunk on his return and nearly squished Trevor.

A/N: If you liked this, you may want to check out another R/Hr short I wrote, entitled "Ah Yes, Bravery".