shell_77

"Cold?"

Dean turned his head and met the steady gaze of the angel sitting next to him. Sometimes it really freaked him out just how empty that stare could be, but right now it held an even more disturbing look. Cas' brow was all scrunched up in that weird parody of concrn that he sometimes took on. Yeah, Dean was pretty certain that was an even weirder look; it gave him the royal heebie jeebies.

Shrugging his shoulders in a  careless manner, Dean answered, "Some, but nuthen' I can't handle."

"Perhaps you should turn the heat on in this vehicle," Castiel suggested, noting the subtle shivers that shook the humans broad frame.

Patting the dash of the Impala affectionately, Dean chuckled, "My baby girl here needs a speck of rest. We've been burnen' up the miles and she's starten' to complain and when mamma ain't happy... ain't nobody happy."

Castiel tilted his head to the side and murmured slowly, "Still, it would behoove you to gather warmth. Clearly, you are in need of it."

Dean's eyebrow rose. "Behoove? Behoove? Sighing, Dean continued as if to himself, "Y'gotta be kidden' me." At the angel's confused demeanor, Dean added, "I mean seriously, Cas who the hell talks like that?"

"I do," Castiel stated simply. "As do all of the Heavenly Host, but proper vernacular is not the issue at hand. You will surely catch a terrible cold, if not worse, if something isn't done."

"Well, can't you... y'know," waving his hand in the air Dean asked, "Maybe use your angel mojo to create some heat?"

"Why would I use my Grace on such a mundane task?"

"Because I'm freezen' my ass off here," Dean spat out, creating a white mist of proof at just how cold it had gotten while they'd been busy with their convo. "Sooooo... can you or what," Dean demanded with another wave of his hand.

"No, Dean... I cannot," Castiel answered, sounding every bit as exasperated as Dean felt.

"Y'know Cas, you can be a real dick sometimes." When Dean saw no reaction from the perpetually stoic angel, he slapped his palm on the steering wheel in frustration and declared angrily, "I'm not asken' for a bonfire here or for the flames of Hell to heat up frozen - though spectacular - ass-ets. I just want..."

"In direct contrast to what is most often believed by you humans," Castiel interrupted, "very little heat is generated in Hell." He went on to say in the annoyen' know-it-all type manner of his, "The flames of hell are, in fact, cold beyond measure."

Snorting, Dean snapped back, "Dude, like I don't already know that." Flicking his thumb back at his chest he winked and with a half-smirk remarked, "Been to Hell and back. Remember?"

"Dean," Cas sighed, then spoke carefully as if he feared the hunter might be slow-witted, "I am the one who pulled you out, so of course I remember."

"Man," Dean grumbled under his breath while staring at the roof of the Impala, "why couldn't I have gotten an angel with a sense of humor?"

Clicking his tongue, Cas replied, "We angels are not known to possess such a useless quality."

"Hey, ass-wipe," Dean leaned in Cas' direction and growled, "Don't be haten' on the humor."

A solemn silence descended and then with a frown cas spoke again. "You're angry. Why?"

"Because, Cas," Dean exclaimed harshly, "a good dose of humor has seen me through some serious shit." Leaning forward, his hazel eyes filled with angry steel, Dean pushed his point home by jabbing a finger in the astonished angel's face. "Without a good chuckle or two I'd probably be sitten' next to Jack Nicholson in some padded room havin' to deal with the likes of Nurse Rachette. So yeah... Don't be haten' on the humor!"

"Dean," Castiel asked with an earnest expression, "are you aware that you are infringing upon my personal space?" With a slight questioning tilt to his head, he called Dean out by asking, "Is that not frowned upon?"

Realizing that Cas was right, Dean sat back abruptly. After clearing his throat uncomfortably he muttered, "Whatever."  He began rubbing his hands together brisklly while grumbling nastily, "It really sucks ass that you're not able to enjoy this fine brisk evening as much as me."

And when Cas stated in that wonderous dead-pan way of his, "You don't appear to be enjoying it, Dean."

Dean was flat-out tempted to gank the douch-bag right here and now. I mean really, who was gonna to miss one weird-ass angel? Friggin' dick couldn't - nah, scratch that - not couldn't... Wouldn't - even manage to work up some heat to help out one rapidly developing Deansicle.

Instead of ganken' Cas on the spot, Dean settled for saying snidely, "It was a joke dumb-ass." Pulling his jacket tighter around his half frozen torso, he muttered acidly, "This might be the one and only time I envy one of you mofo's." Turning his head to Cas once more, he queried with genuine curiosity, "Is it like you dudes are immune to the weather, or something?"

"I am able to regulate the temperature of my vessel," Cas informed him, sounding as if it were the most normal thing possible.

But, hey... probably was normal if you were a friggen' angel, and as another sharp shudder shook him, Dean was reminded that he definitely didn't fall into that "exaulted" category and damn it all to hell... he wouldn't have it any other way!

"When the weather is warm I merely lower my vessel's internal temperature," Cas droned on even though Dean was past caring. "The same applies when it is cold but in reverse, of course."

"Of course," Dean rasped out sarcastically while thinking maybe ganken' this angel idiot might not be such a bad idea after all.

"I could give you my coat," Cas generously offered, and then promptly took that generous offer back by stating calmly, "However, I do not think it will be sufficient to your needs." Then, he totally threw Dean by saying nonchalantly, "It would be better if I were to share my heat with you."

Dean's entire body stiffened and it had absolutely nothing to do with the bitterly frigid weather. "Um, yeah... so not gonna happen, dude. Not a chance in ever lasten' hell," Dean exclaimed forcefully, eyes wide with apprehension. Then, realizing just how petrified he sounded and how utterly unmanly, he tried to save face by saying jokingly, "I mean, you're attractive and all in a dorky, nerdish kinda way, but I'll pass."

Although it was pretty dark within the confines of his baby, Dean could clearly make out the massive confusion in Cas' startling blue eyes. "I fail to see how my vessel's features have anything to do with keeping you warm," he exclaimed, sounding not only highly perplexed but mighty put out too.

Put out with him, Dean thought gleefully. It was a right, royal blast gettin' any kinda reaction outta Cas, but it was out-and-out awesome when he was gettin' this sorta reaction outta him. Dean's humor died a quick death at Cas' next words putting him right back into Awkwardville and wishen' he was anywhere... anywhere, (and we're talken' Hell even) but here.

"Unless I were to press my face against you."

Dean let out a choked cough, but the agony turned out to be far from over.

"Still, that would not heat up enough of your body to make a difference," Cas tacked on sounding both serious and reflective. "It would be much wiser if you were to slide over and allow me to press your body next to my own. That would allow for..."

"Stop! Stop right now," Dean ordered gruffly, wincing slightly at the near hysteria in his voice. Taking a few deep breaths in order to calm himself he added with a much more unruffled finesse than what he was actually feeling, "Just quit with the whole sharen' heat and pressen' bodies cause it's really weirden' me out here." Slumping back into his seat as if exhausted, Dean bit out, "Christ on a stick."

"You are uncomfortable with this topic of conversation," Cas ventured to ask.

Dean snorted derisively. "Chalk one up for Captain Obvious. Yeah, as a matter of fact I am, so just drop it already."

But, it seemed as if Cas didn't understand the concept of 'drop it' because instead of dropping it he declared with no small amount of frustration, "I do not understand your apprehension, Dean. I am offering you assistance and yet you persisit in refusing my help and to your own detriment, I might add." 

And didn't that dickwad have the actual balls to sound smug about the possible outcome of refusing his help. So maybe it'd gotten' to the point where he couldn't feel his fingers, or his toes, or his nose. Did that make it okay for Cas to sound so damned, self-righteously smug? Dean had to remind himself that if he showed up at the motel without his present passanger that Sammy'd go all girlie on him and throw a hissy-fit bound to rival that of that skank Lohan, and he was way too tired to be dealen' with that crap.

"Well, tough macaroons on you not understanden' cause I don't have time to explain it to  a moronic stooge."

Sighing, Cas pointed out quietly, "Dean, time is all we have at the moment."

"No, douche we don't," Dean argued. "We gotta keep out eyes peeled for any y'know... outta the ordinary shit."

From the corner of his eye, Dean watched as Cas crossed his arms over his chest and damn if it didn't look as if he was pouting. Pouting! Did angels even really know how to pout? Clearly this one did. Dean's chapped, frozen lips pulled into an elated smirk. He - Dean Winchester - had gotten an angel of the Lord to pout! How friggin' cool was that?! Then, Cas had to go and ruin his good mood by saying something both stupid and unnecessary, pretty much the standard for this particular dick of an angel.

"We've been here for over an hour, twenty-three minutes and two seconds and have yet to see anything out of the ordinary. That being the case, I see no reason why we can't explore the subject of your absurd aversion of accepting my assistance."

"You're not gonna let this go, are ya," Dean demanded, now totally frustrated by Cas' ability to catch a clue. "Fine... fine, but listen up Cas cause I'm only gonna tell you this once, got it?" Staring into that expectant face was more than a little unnerving and after a brief hesitation, Dean blurted out, "Dudes do not hare body heat. It just ain't done. There, I told ya, now let's drop it, kay."

"Dean, that is an erroneous statement." Castiel paused when he noted the roll of the hunter's annoyance-filled eyes. Undeterred by this, he pressed his case. "There have been many instances where men have shared body heat in order to survive perlious situations."

"That may be," Dean agreed grudgingly before pressing home his point."Difference being my survival isn't in question." Rubbing a nearly frost-bitten hand along the back of his chilled neck, he grumbled, "Though this conversation's pretty much killin' me, and Jesus what I wouldn't give for a cold one right about now."

Ignoring Dean's reference to alcohol, Cas asked with a frown, "What exactly is that you object to?" Pointedly disregarding Dean's death glare, Cas leaned closer, his face scrunched up in such a way that would've been hilarious if wasn't so friggin' intense. "I am trying to understand, Dean. Won't you help me to understand?"

There was a moment of thick, tense stillness before Dean threw his hands up in the air and bellowed,"Cause I don't wanna be mistaken' for a friggin' homo! There, I said it. Y'happy now?"

Dean could've just about cracked Cas in the skull when he said, with no intonation in his voice, "No, I am far from happy because obviously you are distressed." Followed by, "What's a homo?"

"Jesus,"Dean rasped out,"don't you know anything?" He was well and truly fed up. 

"I know a great many things," Cas informed him with a slight air of condescension. "However, the word 'homo' is not among them. Elaborate please."

"Homo is when two dudes like each other," Dean explained in a rush of words.

Cas lowered his gaze, freeing Dean from those all-seeing, soul-wrenching electric blue orbs. "So," he whispered slowly, "you do not wish to be homo with me?"

"Hell no," Dean agreed whole-heartedly, then letting out a bark of laughter he sputtered, "Abso-fucken-lutely not!"

Staring fixedly at the upholstery, Cas mumbled quietly, "I see." Lifting his lashes, he said with a trace of hurt in his voice, "But you would be homo with Sam and Bobby."

Stunned into silence, Dean just stared back at Cas in shock (jaw hanging open, eyes widened, brows so high on his forhead they could give Joan River's a run for her money.... so yeah, basically the whole enchilada).

"Uh, wait uh... what?" Stuttering crazily, Dean shook his head until he saw stars. "No, no man... you got it all wrong, dude!"

"I do," Cas questioned, the downward droop of his mouth lifting a fraction.

"Yeah, man defintitely! Umm... listen, homo is when two guys like each other in an uh... different kinda way." Crap! He really hated doing this, it was so not his scene. "They uh... wanna be together y'know... sexually as in havin' actual sex, or intercourse, or coitus or whatever the hell you dudes up in Heaven are callin' it." Dean squirmed uncomfortably in his seat cause Cas was just sitting there, staring at him, saying nothing (for a change). "So, y'know... it's way more than just liken' someone as a friend. It's different, completely different. Me, Sammy and Bobby are what you could call, I suppose... non-homo pals."

Cas' face cleared. "I see," he said, and then asked with child-like innocence,"Is that what we are, Dean? Non-homo pals?" 

Dean chuckled, relieved that this conversation was, at long last (way too long) over. Giving the angel a manly pat in the shoulder, he nodded and said with a laugh, "Sure, Cas sure... I mean why the hell not."

"Good," Cas declared, and then said with a satisfied smile, "We are now non-homo pals."

"Yeah, well listen Cas... no need to go 'round broadcastin' the non-homo part; 'kay? Some people might find it offensive and the last thing we need is to go 'round maken' us any more enemies." Quirking an eyebrow, Dean asked, "Got it?"

Cas flashed a thumbs up (clearly they were gonna have to cut him off from all those Happy Days reruns) and answered with an almost chessy grin, "Got it."

Dean was more relieved than he could ever possibly say that this conversation was over. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he was wishing like hell he could just call it a night and haul ass back to the motel so he could crash and burn. He knew it wasn't gonna pan out that way so he he wrapped his arms  around his waist, tucking his hands securely under his armpits. Yeah, it sounded kinda gross, but he'd heard that the armpits was one of the places on the body that generated a good amount of body heat. That and the crotch, but no way in hell he was tucking his hands there with Cas in the car.

He settled his head back. Who knew, maybe he did have a shot at a catching a few Z's. Maybe he'd get lucky and slip off into a dream where he was on some nice, warm beach with a couple of scantily clad chicks running along the shoreline all Baywatch-style. Dean grinned. That'd be beyond awesome!

"Oh yeah," he muttered with a feral smile, 'Come to papa." As in his minds' eye he imagined Yasmine Bleeth (that Anderson chick was way too plastic looken' for his tastes) was running toward him all slo-mo like. Her long, dark hair was flying behind her as she jogged ever closer. He groaned when her wide, perfectly plump lips parted into a seductive smile. And holy friggin' Jesus... how hot was that red lifeguard suit? Totally, awesomely, friggin' hot when some seriously sexy T and A were slammed into it!

Sighing contentedly, Dean let himself slide further down his seat and licked his lips in anticipation of Yasmine's imminent, much needed, and seriously anticipated mouth-to-mouth. He was happily rolling around in the sand, having his own From Here To Eternity moment with his Baywatch beach babe, getting all hot and sweaty with sand grinding into places that would've been uncomfortable if it wasn't so all fired-up fine!

"Dean... Dean..."

"Mmmmm... you moanen' m'name baby is maken' me hot."

"Dean." Shake, shake. "Dean." Shake, shake.

"Mmmmm... leave m'be Sammy... bout to get me some."

"Dean!"

Dean shot up swiftly simultaneously striking out with one tightly balled fist while reaching into his waistband with the other. Whipping out his gun, he pulled back the hammer and took careful aim at whoever wasn't Sammy. He sagged in relief when he realized who had been trying to wake him. As far from him as the limited space would allow, sat Cas rubbing his forehead and glaring at him in a way that Dean seldom saw him do. Would've been crazy hysterical if he wasn't so completely and utterly and royally pissed!

"Damn you, Cas," Dean bellowed. Lowering his weapon, he continued on with his waspish tirade. "There I was haven' the best dream ever and you gotta go and butt your sorry ass in just as it was getten' good!" Reaching passed a still glaring Cas - who continued to nurse a killer bruise - Dean opened the glove compartment and carefully placed the gun inside. Holding up his thumb and index finger, keeping them spread apart by mere centimeters, Dean groused, "This close, jack-off... I was this close to doen' the dirty deed with one of the hottest chicks to have ever graced to bube-tube."

"My apologies," Cas remarked, he remorse appearing to be bonafide.

Running an agitated hand through his hair, Dean replied thoroughly disgusted, "Forget it. What's the problem? We got some action across the street?" Glancing out the window, Dean entreated wistfully, "Please... puh... leeze, tell me we're gonna go do some major ass whoopen'."

Cas disappointed him by saying, "No, that is not the case. I was merely concerned for your welfare."

"Concerned for my welfare," Dean echoed hollowly. When Cas nodded in agreement, the hunter rasped out irately, "You're tellen' me... for real... that you woke me up from the best, most sizzlin' wet dream in the maken' that I have had in ages just cause you were 'concerned for my welfare'?"

Not comprehending why Dean was annoyed, Cas stated, "I feared that hypothermia may be setting in as your lips were turning a slight shade of blue." Dean blinked. "Not a dark blue as of yet," Cas elaborated carelessly. "It had more of a grayish slate-blue quality to it, but I did notice that the blue hue deepened mainly at the flesh of the center of your mouth; the bottom lip especially caused, no doubt, by the fact that your bottom lip is much fuller than the upper."

Dean blinked several more times before asking mildly, "You've been staren' at my mouth?"

"Yes."

"While I was sleepen'?"

Another affirmative from Cas.

"So," Dean drawled, "you've been staren' at my mouth... while I was sleepen'?"

"Have I not already said so," Cas mused with a deeply furrowed brow.

"Damn, Cas," Dean exclaimed with a sickened twist to his apparently much-watched mouth,"That's fucken' creepy... even for you. For how long?"

Cas' answer was immediate. "Fifteen minutes and forty-two seconds." 

"No more of that, Cas," Dean declared wrathfully. "And I ain't kiddin' on this, not by a long shot. I'm warnen' your angel ass as of right now that I better never catch you staren' at my mouth again or I'm gonna bust yours open." Cas' eyebrows rose nearly to his hairline at Dean vehement threat.

"As you wish," was his signature simple,  low-key rejoinder.

"Kay, fine, good," Dean answered, feeling much better now that his message had been delivered, recieved and understood. Then, noticing that Cas had something in his hand, he asked, "What the hell's that?"

Holding it aloft, Cas murmured, "It's a thermos of coffee."

Dean had been pretty damned sure that having seen and experienced as much crazy shit as he had, that he was kinda beyond being shocked or taken by surprise. He had just discovered that he was way wrong on that one.

"Why the friggin' hell are you just pullen' that outta your ass now," Dean roared. "I've been sufferen' for like... I don't know ... hours (seemed like it anyway) and you pull this bullshit move now?"

"I didn't mean..."

"Shut your pie-hole," Dean all but screamed (a manly scream, not girly at all). "Gimme that," he snapped venomously, while making a grab for the thermos.

"Careful," Cas warned, "the lid..."

Unfortunately, due to circumstances being what they were, Dean wasn't paying a lick of attention to Cas' warning. That, coupled with the fact that the freezing cold had made Dean's fingers more than a little clumsy, the end result was kind of inevitable.

"Holy, motherfucken' shit," Dean screamed as hot coffee poured down his front in a stream of black wetting his tee shirt clean through, before cascading further south creating a steaming mini-pool between his jean-clad thighs.

Cas flew across the seat as if propelled by wings, which was probably the case, and yanked Dean's jacket aside. He took in the drenched shirt and agonized expression on Dean's face and grabbed two handfuls of fabric and ripped the cloth from neck to hem. Dean shivered as the cold air hit him, his skin breaking out in a rash of goosebumps, but damn if it didn't ease the hurt a little bit, not much but some.

"Dean," Cas gasped, taking in the red and slightly swollen skin of his chest and abdomen. "This is bad."

Dean let out an agonized chuckle. "Gotta thank the powers that be for the gift of denim." Choking hoarsely, he forced a grin. "Otherwise the family jewels would've been roasted."

"You are referring to your genitalia," Cas inquired, as his hands gently explored the damaged areas of his torso.

Dean, who was hurting too much to care about all the touchy-feely going on, simply nodded.

'I can take care of that," Cas assured him as he straddled Dean's lap disregarding the fact that he was now soaking his own trousers in the process.

Dean might have been in too much misery to object to a bit of skin-on-skin first aid, but he wasn't so far outta it that he was hunky-dorey with haven' some dude on his lap.

"Get off," Dean groused, feebly pushing against  Cas, trying to ignore the stinging that went along with making any sorta movement.

"I am trying to help, " Cas declared shortly, showing the first signs of real anger. "Now let me do it this way or I will make you unconcious," he threatened, and Dean didn't have to be an intellectual giant to figure out he was serious.

"Fine," Dean grumpily agreed, slumping back, feeling weak as a kitten.

Cas shifted his weight until he was settled firmly on Dean's legs. Dean didn't think it was worth the effort to protest,  he'd just bear the indignity of it cause the sooner Cas did this the sooner he'd be back on his side of the seat. That didn't mean he had to watch, so he closed his eyes and set about pretending he was getting a lap dance form some busty Asian centerfold.

Way easier said than done 'specially when Cas shattered his almost illusion by whispering, "This will only take a moment." And was it really necessary for Cas to put his mouth that close to his ear?

Dean felt Cas place one hand on the spot between his ribcage and bellybutton. He squirmed uncomfortably but made no verbal protest. Cas' lips brushed his ear again as he asked quietly, "Ready?"

Dean grunted his assent, but nearly catapulted through the roof when a hand plopped forcefully down on his crotch and took hold.

"What the fuck," Dean screeched, and couldn't have cared less that this time he really did sound like a ten year old girl.

"Hold still, Dean!"

Then, it happened... one of Dean's worst nightmares come to life. (Not that he regularly dreamt about some dude crawling around in his lap, but hey... what could he say... it was a nightmare) The sound of tapping at the driver's side window had both occupants of the vehicle swinging their heads in that direction. Their faces bore markedly different expressions. Cas looked startled, maybe even a little rattled while Dean looked more horrified than mere words could ever detail when they realized that staring back at them was a police officer.

He made a motion with his hand indicating that he wanted the window lowered which, ever helpful and obliging, Cas did before Dean had a chance to stop him or push him off. In one quick, all encompassing glance the officer took in the scene before him. Tipping his hat back slightly in his balding forehead, he sighed as if he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders (which he wasn't, cause that lousey job fell to him and Sammy) and, much to Dean's surprise, casually remarked, "This is a no parking zone, gentlemen."

And, that was it. Like he came across two dudes all scrunched up on top of each other every day or something. It was clear that this fine upstanding officer was gonna let it slide, look the other way and pretend that he didn't notice that some guy (in a trench coat no less) had just been caught feelen' up a partially naked dude. Yet, Dean felt the need to explain.

Using a finger to gesture between him and Cas, Dean said with an awkward smile, "This... this isn't what it looks like, officer."  And damn if Cas was making him out to be a friggin' liar by clinging to him like a vine.

"Of course it isn't," The policeman deadpanned, clearly not believing him for a second if that cynical look was anything to go by.

"No, really sir... if you'll just let me explain..."

He cut Dean off with a raised hand. "No need. You and your boyfriend just need to move it along. In an hour this loading dock will be open for business."

Face flaming, Dean exclaimed desperately, "He isn't my boyfriend!" Dean gave Cas a sharp elbow to the gut to no avail, bastard didn't move an inch. "Honestly, sir... it's not like that at all. Y'see what happened was..."

Placing a hand on Dean's bare shoulder, Cas butted in my saying, "I think I can make sense of this situation to the law enforcement individual." Dean was hoping that Cas was planning on zapping this mortifying  memory from the man in blue's noggin'. Instead, looking directly at the policeman and serious as can be he said, "If I were indeed Dean's boyfriend I would be engaged in sexual activity with him." Dean wanted to sink into the seat and disappear for the remainder of his existance. He'd just begun praying to his baby to swallow him whole when Cas tacked on, "We are merely non-homo pals."

>>>>>>>

"Not one word, Sammy," Dean bit out fiercely as his brother was ushered into the room. "Not, One. Word," he reiterated with a threatening gleam in his eyes, the one that promised a world of hurt if he didn't do as he was told.

"Fine, Dean," Sam agreed readily, holding his hands up and out in a placating manner. "Not one word."

Turned out way too readily cause just as Dean was heaving a sigh of relief, Sam coninued, "Not one word on how you and Cas have been arrested for parking in a no parking zone, lying to a police officer, and there are those other two teeny-tiny charges against you guys. Hmmmmm... yeah," tapping his chin, face screwed up in an expression of bewilderment Sam remarked casually, "What were they again?" Snapping his fingers as if sudden inspiration had struck, he exclaimed excitedly, "Oh, now I remember... something about indecent exposure and lewd and licentious behavior."

Dean let out a cross between a groan and growl, and sounding like just like a riled, savage animal snarled, "Sammy..."

Undeterred, Sam spread his arms wide and with an affable grin began bouncing back and forth on the balls of his feet while leisurely adding, "And hey, while we're not saying one word on things, how about we don't mention the added charges against you bro. You know... the whole resisting arrest and the attempted battery and inflicting of bodily harm to" --- strolling closer to his brother who now had his teeth clenched so hard that the hinges of his jaw was clearly defined beneath the pink splotches riding high on his cheekbones --- "and, let me make sure I get this right, to a non-homo pal." 

Dean's head fell forward hitting the bars of his cell with an audible thunk.

The End 

 

It hadn’t been easy but Harry had finally done it. He’d bitten the bullet and approached the one bloke who he knew, just knew could help him with his problem. He certainly couldn’t ask Ron. No way could he do that. It wasn’t as if Ron had much more to work with, but he supposed he was one up on him. Ron had, after all, snogged Lavender Brown for a good portion of their sixth year. Yeah, Harry sighed, Ron was definitely one up.

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