“Do you understand what the words ‘self preservation’ mean?”
“Yeah, it’s a property of jams and jellies.”
“Merlin, Potter, just how dense are you? Even the Weasel’s not that thick!”
“Yes he is,” Harry countered. “He doesn’t know what the words mean at all, let alone how to spell them.”
Draco laughed in surprise at that comeback. “Good one, Potter! I’m surprised at you. I figured you’d defend Weasel with your dying breath.”
“From Death Eaters, yes. From his own stupidity, not a chance in hell. He’s on his own there. After all these years of knowing Hermione, if he hasn’t grown a brain yet, he’s not likely to anytime soon. There are some things you just can’t fix, and stupid is one of them. He’s my best mate, and I love him like a brother, but he can be a total moron about a lot of things.”
“Agreed. If I hadn’t seen first-hand how bravely he fought in the war, I’d still be wondering why he wound up in Gryffindor instead of Hufflepuff. Not that Puffs are idiots or anything, but intelligence is not high on their list of character traits.”
“No, but loyalty is, and if Ron is anything he’s loyal.”
“So’s a Saint Bernard.”
Harry almost choked on his coffee. “I just got this mental image of a ginger Saint Bernard following Hermione and me around with one of those barrels around his neck, only instead of alcohol it’s stuffed full of as much food as you could possibly cram into one of those things.”
Draco almost fell out of his chair, he was laughing so hard. “Merlin, I knew there was a reason I kept you around,” he gasped as he was finally able to pull himself upright.
“Funny, I didn’t think that was the reason,” Harry casually replied as he went to refill his coffee mug.
“What time is it?” a sleepy voice asked from the doorway. Harry and Draco looked over in time to see Ron shuffle sleepily into the kitchen. They looked at each other and burst out laughing. Ron looked between the two of them, confused. “What? What’s so funny?”