O hiatus my hiatus, how long it's been since I saw the front end of you!

I forgot that I ever wrote those other stories

but now i remember why i wrote them

HFS

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Appearances

His green eyes yielded nothing before closing for the duration. What's he thinking? The idea slipped in and out of Ron's brain, the neural signals being constantly interrupted by electricity of a more primal kind. Sparks, invisible but lacking none of the heat cracked and tore the air, the atmosphere visceral. It was good their heat created such a cloak, for this was a secret neither was eager to share. There's no way Harry is who I thought he was. The fact that Ron and Harry's bodies were doing this was a milestone, a turning point in the image of Harry in Ron's head.

What a fucking let down for Cho, for Ginny, and for a thousand dreaming witches. And perhaps, some wizards as well. Ron's long arms reached far, passing each other with room to spare behind Harry's back. Ron's eyes were alert and scanning, watching and calculating any clue as to what Harry was thinking. Is he thinking about me or his best friend? Which love Harry felt strongest was important, was he about platonic misinterpretations or romance or just a rush of fucking hormones. And what was this about, any of those three? Was this a favor to that other so entangled in him, or was it for Harry's own comfort?

There was simply no way to tell with this most stoic of heroes. Most tragic, he was a damn modern Oedipus, luckily sans the incest. This is his escape. His only time to live in the moment, to cast away worries for the future. Except in this rush of passion, this zeal for life, there was no room for anything but predictions, and the searching of portents to the future. That was the curse of the intellectual, and of those grown up, to see so far into the future. And to worry, while the young scorned the old for worrying. That youth, that carelessness was what Harry needed from Ron, what he needed to fell from him. But not what he needs from me, far from it, thought Ron's brain. Somewhere under clothes and blankets, an alarm clock rang, signaling the end of one hour. Ron's shrinking morphing body changed to match the calculating mind captive within it. It made sure to get off Harry before the change was done.

Hermione Granger pulled back on her clothes, as Harry wordlessly gathered up his own garments and straddled him broom. Hermione watched and wished. Harry thought only of the comforting illusion he knew had to pass, and wished that once it would stay. He wished that art would imitate life and that the real Ron would make like his shadow and love him the way Harry wanted. Hermione wished she could cast off the shadow without ill effects. Both knew that neither wish would come to pass. Hermione's lips cracked with an unspoken plea as Harry flew through the window and back to his dorm, where he could pretend he was the whole time.

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sometimes we all use polyjuice potion to realize our homosexual fantasies

Review maybe?

HFS