For a long time I chalked it up to loneliness. I was able to push aside my feelings by saying that I was just feeling alone. I had no reason to be; I was always surrounded by people who wanted to be seen with the Boy Who Lived, and except for Ron and Hermione I had few real friends. Everyone else was too impressed by my name and my forehead to be able to be my friends. They were all so busy being next to me that none of them were ever close to me.
I felt especially alone once they fell in love. I was happy for them of course, and amused whenever I would come in on them kissing by accident and they'd leap apart, blushing furiously. Hermione would turn beet-colored and look at her shoes, and Ron would say something inane while his ears and face blazed almost as read as his hair.
It was wonderful seeing them so happy. Hermione lightened up somewhat about school, and her laugh came more freely and easily. Ron could be seen smiling to himself a lot and even Malfoy's insolence became tolerable.
Glad though I was to see them so happy, the loneliness was consuming. I searched desperately for someone to fill the void, but none of the girls I dated were interested in a real relationship. They just wanted to kiss and smile at and sleep with famous Harry Potter; they were always with the Gryffindor seeker or the cute prefect or the lightning scar, never with me. I couldn't open up to them the way I knew I could to Ron or Hermione. I even gave myself a crush on her for a short while until the dice fell on Ron.
I thought that I would get over him, just as I had gotten over the various girls. But two months went by and my love for him only grew. With every day I wanted and needed to be with him more than the day before; I yearned more for his kiss and prayed more and more that one day I could feel his arms around me. I did stupid things like becoming transfixed by the way he moved his hands when he talked, or stopping in the middle of a sentence when the sun would fall on his hair bringing out the hidden golden lights and auburn shadows.
He was beautiful. His formerly gangling limbs had become gracefully long, well muscled and subtly defined under his robes. His humor was quick and his laugh hearty and ringing. His deep, brown eyes were more expressive than anything I've ever seen in my entire life.
~*~
We were in the Gryffindor common room, talking with Dean and Seamus (an excellent couple, despite the fact that everyone had seen it coming) and Fred and George. Ron was telling a story about himself and Hermione that I had already heard fifty times, and I knew that it ended with Dumbledore and McGonagall walking by and Ron hiding in the bushes while Hermione, wiping away her smeared lipstick, had explained that she was doing some herbology homework.
"She's stopped wearing the lipstick since then," said Ron. Everyone laughed and he turned to wink at me. As he did, our eyes met, and suddenly I knew that I wasn't just lonely. I was in love with him.
I struggled to hide it from him. I doubted that he would have gotten upset, but things would have gotten decidedly uncomfortable for quite a while. It was difficult though, and occasionally, if I looked at him too long or sighed for no reason, he would look at me oddly and for a terrible moment I would think that he knew. He'd get a slightly concerned look and ask, "All right Harry?" I would gulp and nod, trying to act casual. He would smile and return with a shrug to whatever he was doing.
~*~
It was about a month later, the middle of quidditch season. I lingered in the changing rooms after a smashing but wholly expected victory over Hufflepuff. The rest of the team had gone back up to the school for a mild party, courtesy of the Weasley twins. I was too tired to be in the party mood, and was still in the showers when Ron came into the room.
"Harry, you in here?"
I turned off the water and seized a towel. "Uh, yeah. Is that you, Ron?"
"Yeah. They're all wondering where you are, so I came down to investigate. Everything alright?" His voice had a note of concern, and… was that tenderness?
"Uh, yeah," I said again, thrown by his presence. What was he doing here? A slightly awkward feeling began to seep into the air between us.
Picking up my clothes and wrapping a towel firmly around myself, I came out of the showers to where Ron was standing among the benches and rows of hooks that made up the main part of the changing room. I sat down on a bench, and he seated himself beside me. I was acutely aware of how close he was to me, closer than usual. My breath seemed loud in my ears, and I felt sure that he could hear my heart beating double time. I tried desperately to slow my heart and quiet my breathing, sure that it would blow my cover at any moment.
"Are you all right Harry?" He asked.
"Of course," I lied. "Everything's fine." Why did his lips have to look so invitingly soft, and his eyes shine with emotion like that? I edged closer surreptitiously, suddenly willing to take a chance.
"Are you sure?" Solicitude became him beautifully. "You've seemed rather down lately." He hesitated a moment before he slowly put his arm around my bare shoulders.
His touch did something to me. It was only a friendly gesture, brotherly even, but the feeling of his skin against mine sent electrical impulses through every part of my body. It was almost unbearable. Before I knew what I was doing my head turned and my lips pressed against his in a feverish, scared kiss. His lips were even softer than they appeared, and they recovered quickly from the initial surprise; in a moment he was kissing me back with equal if not greater passion. There was an urgency to the way we kissed each other, as though we would never have another chance to show how we felt.
All too soon I recovered my senses and remembered Hermione. Kissing Ron was ecstasy, but my conscience made me pull away. I looked at the floor.
"I'm sorry, Ron, I…"
"Hush" He gently placed a finger to my lips. "Don't be."
"But Hermione…"
"She'll understand. You acted on impulse."
"Won't she be angry with me?"
"Oh no. If anything, she'll be angry with me."
"Why with you? I mean, who kissed who just now?"
"I think it was definitely a group effort." Ron reached out to stroke my hand, which had someone come to rest on his thigh. "Things with us are less rosy and they were. And anyway, I… we… well… I left the tower just now to find you because we… well, we broke up, Harry."
I was stunned. Everyone, myself included, had assumed that Ron and Hermione were destined for each other.
"I'm sorry," I managed to choke out.
"It's all right," he said. "It was a fairly amicable parting."
I swallowed.
"Can I ask why, or would you rather not talk about it?"
"No, it's fine. She was kind of upset, and rightly so, because I'd been showing less interest lately, and we…" He looked at me, his face open. "Harry, I'm gay."
"So am I," I blurted, without thinking. The moment I said it, I knew it was true.
We paused, looking into each others' eyes as though for the first time. His were shining, deep and brown like twin amber pools. They glowed softly in the artificial light of the changing room. Suddenly they changed, and I saw the love that was in them.
"Harry." His voice was raspy.
"Ron, I love you."
His face broke into the most beautiful smile I've ever seen. He leaned in as though to kiss me, but instead he brought his face very close to mine, so that our noses were touching. We looked deeply into each others' eyes for a long moment before his lips parted and he whispered, "I love you too, Harry."
The world fell away when he kissed me. Suddenly there was nothing in the universe except for the pure happiness of this kiss, the love that pulsed between us. There was no other time than that moment, no other place than the space between our lips, and no other feeling than that of having in my arms the one person whom I really, truly loved.