“Double bacon cheeseburger.” Ron's mouth watered at the mere thought of it.

Hermione grabbed the top of his menu and pulled it down firmly. “No.”

“Why not?”

“It's loaded with fat and calories and all sorts of unhealthy rubbish you don't need in your arteries!”

Harry tried to inconspicuously lower his menu, so that Hermione wouldn't see what he had been eyeing, and focused on a tree outside, whose branches swayed in the wind. It was getting dark out and it looked like a storm was on its way. Evidently after dinner they'd have to find shelter as soon as possible. Their quest for horcruxes had them moving every few hours, just to be safe.

“I saw that Harry,” Hermione narrowed her eyes. “Don't you think you're getting that rack of ribs and the cheesy fried potato skins, either.”

Ron and Harry grumbled into their menus as a large curly-haired waitress came up to their booth.

“Can I take your orders?”

Ron stared at the waitress. “What?”

“Your order, sir?”

“Ahem.” Hermione cleared her throat. “You tell her what you want to eat and she fetches it for you.”

Ron looked genuinely confused. “Why would she get it for me if we can just use mag - ow!”

Harry looked innocently up at the fluorescent lights in the ceiling. They flickered a bit, an omen for the impending storm.

“I'll…um…give you guys more time to decide, then.” The waitress, whose name tag read “Flo”, sauntered away into the kitchen where she began to file her unusually long pink fingernails.

“That's how it works in Muggle restaurants,” Harry said when he was sure no one was listening. It was a slow night at the diner, anyway. There was only one other group of skeevy-looking men who Harry figured they should avoid. “You place an order with the waitress, they cook the food, and then she serves it to you in a little while.”

Ron sappeared to be scandalized at the Muggle method of food preparation. “But…but how long is `a little while'?”

Hermione shrugged. “It depends. In my experience it's been about twenty minutes or so - “

“TWENTY MINUTES?!”

“Ron, shh! There are other people here!”

“But that's a bloody long time to wait for food!”

“Well that's how it is,” Harry hissed. “Now pick out some healthy rubbish so Hermione won't skin you alive, and then we can finally order dinner!”

Hermione made a face. “Oh honestly, Harry, it is not rubbish!”

“Okay,” Harry conceded. “But we need to decide. I'm getting hungrier by the minute.”

“That's because you haven't been eating well,” Hermione said concernedly, eyeing her best friend sitting next to her. Ron rolled his eyes, knowing the storm outside wasn't the only one brewing.“You do look a bit thinner. Even thinner than before.”

“You do too,” Harry shot back defensively. “And don't deny it; I know you haven't had much of an appetite either.”

“Well, running around the country searching for the missing bits of a megalomaniac's soul so that we can save the world is just a tad stressful on a person,” Hermione huffed.

“That's my reason!”

“Don't you ever say that again.” Hermione glared dangerously.

At this point Ron was starting to drift away from their exchange and think about more important things, such as food. And food. He barely registered the rest of the conversation as his eyes ran down the menu.

“Fine,” Harry said grumpily.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “All I'm saying is, we need to eat better and more often.”

“You too.”

“Okay, fine, me too.”

Harry went back to perusing his menu and Hermione set hers down on the table, her baked salmon and salad already picked out. She still seemed a bit irritated at Harry, for some reason that Ron couldn't fathom. But she was a girl, after all. Their knickers always seemed to be in perpetual twists. It wasn't even confined to the “time of the month”, contrary to popular belief. It was just how they were.

“I was just making sure you knew I was worried,” Hermione grunted under her breath. Harry looked up from his menu, surprised.

“What are you worried about?”

She shrugged. “You. Not taking care of yourself.”

It was Harry's turn to glare. “I'm not a child.”

“I'm not saying you are! It's just that I worry all this stress is wearing you thin - “

“Wearing us thin!”

“I'm not - “

“Yes you are!”

A vein in Hermione's neck began to pop out, a characteristic Ron had noticed many times. It was usually him on the receiving end of angry Hermione, after all. “I saw you last night, sneaking out of the barn to just sit down outside in the cold! Ron and I are able to sleep, and you're not!”

“That's rubbish and you know it. I could tell when you're awake, and sometimes you're up all night! You're just better at hiding it than I am!”

Ron buried his nose deeper in his menu, their voices getting farther and farther away. These little fights of theirs had been getting more and more frequent as the days went by. At first Ron thought it was just the result of frustration in not having retrieved a single horcrux in nearly two weeks, but now he was beginning to wonder.

They weren't snapping at each other over dumb things like Hermione and Ron always did. Their arguments were always about how the other wasn't taking good enough care of themselves and how they were worried or some other deep issues that Ron didn't care about, especially over the dinner table. Also, since they had run away, Harry and Hermione would look at each other oddly, and then quickly look away when they caught each other staring. There was some kind of tension between the two of them, so much so that Ron wondered if they had had some massive fight before they left the Burrow. Ron remembered when he used to look at Hermione like that. He usually wanted to apologize for something stupid he had said, but as soon as Hermione looked at him he grew stubborn and withheld the apology. Maybe that was what Harry was going through.

“Filet of fish and garden vegetables,” Ron muttered to himself as Hermione scolded Harry. Something about Harry going out of his way to look out for she and Ron when he himself also needed to be taken care of.

The redhead couldn't help but scowl at the picture of the fish and vegetables. No way, not that. It would be like two disgusting foodstuffs fighting for the title of “Most Disgusting Taste in Ron's Mouth”. It was so wrong. If one was going to have something unecessarily healthy like fish, the side dish should be something good, like an order of chips or something else wholesome and satisfying. Or, if the side was going to be gross like mixed vegetables, the main dish should be something edible, like a double bacon cheeseburger. Medium rare with extra onions.

“Cheeseburger…” Ron mumbled as his eyes wandered longingly over to the burger listings. Damn their unavailability due to fat and calories. He barely registered Harry yelling at Hermione about how if anything happened to them, it would be his fault and therefore it was his job to look out for her and Ron.

He concluded it would be a big N-O to the fish and vegetables. Two wrong foods in one meal? Outrageous. Ron's eyes scanned over to the next page of the menu, which boasted an all-day breakfast.

“Pancakes?” Ron wondered. He did love pancakes, but he highly doubted whether or not it would satisfy him enough. In the background, Hermione countered whatever Harry had said with something about them knowing what they were getting into and it wasn't Harry's decision or responsibility to baby-sit them.

Ron's eyes widened when he realized that he wouldn't have to get just pancakes. With pancakes, Ron would be allowed a choice of two sides. Naturally, those two sides would have to balance out the meal. Pancakes were sweet and soft. He needed something different for the two sides. Perhaps some crispy slices of bacon for his meat craving, and the fruit cup for the juiciness and well, health reasons, he supposed. Yeah, that sounded all right. Pancakes alone just weren't enough. It needed to be balanced perfectly with the other good tastes, for a little variety.

Ron grinned to himself. He really was an expert at food. It was too bad life just wasn't as simple. Or delicious.

He stopped to look up briefly as Harry angrily told Hermione that he needed his two best friends, and if something happened to them he would just fall apart and he couldn't allow that to happen. Ron blinked, and then shrugged off their argument once again.

His eyes wandered back to the bloody fattening and high-calorie Deathburger. No, no that was off limits. Hermione said so. Though right then she wasn't really saying anything except that it wasn't only Harry that needed them, but them that needed Harry as well. Love in friendship was mentioned somewhere, though Ron barely heard it as he looked over to the pastas.

“Spaghetti and meatballs?” he thought for a moment. Ron really did love the dish, it was just that it was so messy. He never was much of a talent when it came to the fine motor skills, and since they had lost their extra clothes in the creek accident a while back, he wasn't willing to take that chance. Even Hermione's cleaning charms still left their clothes feeling a little bit gritty. Magic could only do so much, and he did not want to wander the streets of bloody Muggle England splattered with marinara sauce.

If there ever was a messier food than spaghetti, Ron had never seen it. One had to twirl the fork in the noodles just right so that one caught a certain amount. One could never get just one noodle. A single noodle would just slide back off the fork and splash in the sauce, which meant doom for your clean clothing and perhaps even the clothing of the person next to you. No, you had to get a whole bunch so that they twisted around each other. It formed a tight braid that held each noodle fast onto the fork so that none fell. Strength in numbers didn't just apply to people, after all.

Ron knitted his eyebrows. Okay, maybe some parts of life were as simple as food. Oh, keen observation by Ronald Weasley, Food Expert! Ah well, no matter, onwards to the dessert, perhaps?

Suddenly Harry and Hermione fell silent. Ron looked up, alarmed at the sudden loss of background noise. They weren't saying anything, just looking at each other with unreadable expressions. He sighed. A staring competition? Now?

Maybe he would just order the damn double bacon cheeseburger. Hermione and her health obsession seemed to be occupied right then, anyway. Maybe he could call Flo over and whisper his order in her ear. That wasn't odd Muggle behavior, was it?

But was what he wanted, damn it. It was just the right thing to do. A double bacon cheeseburger, with a side of lovely golden-fried chips. Yes, it was two very fattening foods and yes, he would probably die of a heart attack by the time he hit thirty, but it was good. It worked, hand in hand, running through his mouth in perfect harmony.

Oy, what is the point of living life if you have so many bloody restrictions holding you back? Life was meant to enjoy, not live cowering under a blanket of health food rubbish! What was living if you didn't pull down your pants and slide on the ice? The heavenly taste and experience of the cheeseburger was well worth the bloody risk for congestive heart failure.

So, in short, Ron decided to screw it all and get the cheeseburger. Take that, you artery bastards!

“We could die!” Harry nearly shouted. Ron finally put down his menu, having made his decision, and stared at his two best friends like they had just arrived. Hermione winced and Harry looked regretfully up at her. “I mean, I just don't want…”

“Let me ask you something, Harry.” Hermione had lowered her voice to nearly a whisper. “Is a life living in fear and alienating the one you love better than dying satisfied, knowing you got all you could from your life?”

Harry stared at her and she stared at him. Ron stared at the both of them, completely at a loss as to what the bloody hell was going on.

“Come on, Harry. You know this better than anyone. Would you rather die with the one you love by your side or would you rather live alone, too afraid and cowardly to take that one risk?”

Ron noted her repeated use of the word “one”. Somehow, he figured they weren't talking about all three of them anymore.

Harry placed his hand on the table tentatively, sliding it towards Hermione's but stopping halfway.

“I…”

Hermione moved her hand forward as well so that their fingertips were touching.

“The risk,” Hermione said again. “Is it worth it, or not? Are you willing to take it?”

Ron looked down at the picture of the vastly unhealthy cheeseburger. It was then that their conversation finally clicked in his brain. He knew what was going on. Ron waited in silence for Harry's answer. Gamble, or just throw it all away?

Before he knew it, Harry's hand covered Hermione's and they both leaned forward. Just like that, they were kissing. Tears were starting to trickle from Hermione's eyes, which were squeezed shut as if she were afraid opening them would make it all disappear like a dream. Harry's were closed as well, his brow knitted in confidence. Ron had never seen Harry more positive of anything in seven years of knowing him. When Harry's other hand wandered behind her and buried itself in her thick, curly brown hair, Hermione relaxed. Her eyes didn't open, but it was obvious she was no longer afraid, and neither was he. They were kissing. Harry and Hermione were kissing!

Bloody hell! Ron's mind screamed frantically. He was sure his face was bright red and he was beginning to sweat profusely. Harry and Hermione. Hermione and Harry. Harry-Hermione. Hermione-Harry. Their two names danced in his head like a cracked-out tango, moving around and around until Ron felt the beginnings of a headache.

What surprised Ron the most, though, was that the headache never came. The initial shock died down and was quickly replaced by something odd. Was it content? Satisfaction? Maybe he was just hungry.

“So I guess you both decided it's worth it then, huh?” Ron said finally.

The two of them broke the kiss and shot away from each other, thoroughly embarrassed.

“Ron - “

“I - we - I…”

Ron shook his head. He wasn't mad, and this wasn't wrong. In fact, nothing seemed more right than the two of them together. Except, well, one thing.

He grinned at his two best friends then shot an especially defiant look at Hermione before waving Flo The Waitress over to their booth.

“I'm ordering my bloody cheeseburger.”

- - -THE ENDDDDD- - -

Author's Note: I KNOW this is the randomest thing like…EVARR. Yes, I just equated an H/Hr argument to a fish platter, the Trio friendship to an order of pancakes, the Trio's strength to a plate of spaghetti, and yes, H/Hr love to a double-bacon cheeseburger with a side of French fries. I KNOW. WTF. Don't even get me started on how weird I feel right now. Bahaha.

**blushes**…sorry… **wonders what kind of reviews this will get**

Author's Note #2: Updated July 3, 2006 for minor corrections. Just `cause. Still think this story is pretty weird though :-P