A/N: Hello and welcome my dear readers, to the Imaginarium of Roma (Also known as me by myself.) A few weeks back I discovered a band called Studio Killers and when I heard one of their songs: Jenny, this little baby was born! It's a very sappy and also quite clichéd story for a writer like me, who favors so called "dark" themes in her stories but I do like it a lot. Please be gentle it's a whole new area in writing for me but I did my best.
Also as mentioned above the inspiration for this story came from Studio Killer's Jenny but the last thousand or so words were also helped along by DEV and Fabulous' Kiss My Lips the Dj Kue Remix. Do check them out they're all very talented singers though from very different genre's.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, it's the property of J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishing and Warner Bros Studios and there are probably some other names I should add to that list as well but I don't feel like looking them up.
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Harry walked through the front door of the Burrow, longingly thinking of the hot shower that awaited him upstairs. Washing the day's worth of grime of off his body was a very urgent matter; he had been spending a lot of his time in the surrounding woods, rolling in the mud and climbing the trees, embracing the fact that he didn't have any responsibilities for once. The war was over, he had fulfilled his duty; defeating the monster called Voldemort, and wasn't bound to anymore prophecies. He was free.
Harry wore a grin as he climbed up the first stairs but, when he threw a quick glance at Ron sitting on the couch, it vanished like dawn to the daylight. The soft glow of the hearth hit his best friend's face and made the deep frown on that beautiful freckled forehead all the more pronounced.
It didn't belong there.
Ron was the one that always smiled brightly at dinner and laughed and joked but, by the lines edged into his face and the desperate glint in his eye, it was easy to see that he wasn't as untroubled as he portrayed during the day.
Harry should have known the times he avoided eye contact or sat just a bit further away from Ron at the dinner table would have been noticed. He had been trying to create a distance since a few weeks ago and he had thought that Ron wouldn't notice but, he supposed, when you've known each other for over twelve years it wouldn't be odd for Ron to have figured out after the first week.
He didn't want this, to see Ron this way. But he just needed some more time, he wasn't ready to say it yet.
Harry made to turn away —his broom was outside maybe he could take it up to his bedroom window and go in from there, but he was stopped by a warm hand softly clasping his left shoulder, "Wait, Harry I think we need to talk."
Harry turned around and was already opening his mouth to give a quick excuse, that would allow him to slip away to his room, but suddenly couldn't find the right words when his eyes met the, tired and slightly moist, blue ones of his best friend, shaded by the furrowed eyebrows above them.
"Please, Harry." He wanted to rip himself loose from that kind hand and scream how much he hated the stupid git but a soft squeeze to his shoulder banished those thoughts away, he wouldn't have meant any of it anyway. He could only nod, still trying not to meet Ron's eyes for the fear that they would make him say more than he wanted, and bit his lip as the hand on his shoulder led him towards the couch Ron had previously occupied.
Once seated, Harry fretted with his hands, he couldn't sit still he was too nervous. What if he did say it? Would Ron would hate him for it? What if it would make their relationship strained and it would worsen over time until they wouldn't even talk anymore, until they only saw each other on the yearly mourning of the battle? What if it would make Ron think he was a freak? He didn't think he'd be able to stay in Britain, knowing his best friend despised him. He would have to move to another country, maybe America? He had never learned a foreign language so there weren't a lot of options.
Harry's thoughts were going two hundred miles a minute and he was so lost in them that
he didn't notice Ron had moved closer on the couch until Ron softly squeezed his shoulder, from where his hand hadn't left, and he looked up to find Ron sitting within an arm's reach —far closer than he'd allowed in the last few weeks. He reflexively moved a little further away, not catching the pained look that passed over his best friends face. When he deemed the distance acceptable he looked back up and his stomach clenched painfully at the hunched over form sitting next to him. "Harry, I…If you're angry at me I just want to tell you I'm sorry. I don't know what I did but if it has made…made you hate me so much that you can't stand to sit close to me it must have been something horrible and I just want you to know that I'd never do something like that on purpose." Harry couldn't believe it, Ron thought that he— "I...please forgive me I don't want whatever this is, to create a tear in our friendship."
Harry let out a chocked breath. How long had Ron thought this was his fault, staying up late trying to recall if he had done something wrong? Harry could've punched himself, if only Ron wasn't sitting next to him. Why did he always have to be so stupid? He could have just ignored it, if he hadn't made such a big deal out of it Ron wouldn't be hurting right now.
A sharp stinging made him quickly cover his eyes and when he felt the first of tears slide down his face against the palm of his hand he wasn't quick enough, to stop a sob from breaking free from his throat.
"Are you crying?" Harry didn't want Ron to see him this way, he didn't want him to see how ugly he was. He pulled his legs up against his chest and tried to burrow his head, still hidden behind his hands, between his knees but was stopped by two hands softly cradling his face. "Harry, did I say something again?" Harry let out another sob but couldn't hide the snort mixed in. "You know if you don't tell me I might never find out, I'm not that bright." Ron's voice had a humorous tone to it, but even so Harry could still pick up the soft sniff of a sob being held back. Ron was crying to.
Harry snickered, though it still didn't contain purely laughter, he couldn't hurt this big oaf. He let his hands fall down, so his elbows rested on his knees with both arms outstretched, and looked up at the man still holding his face. Ron had a crooked smile on his face but one could still see his worry, as his frown was still to disappear, and tear tracks stained his cheeks. "You're wrong."
Ron's frown deepened and Harry felt the hands on either side of his face twitch —warning him of them being about to be pulled away, and so quickly closed his own hands over them, holding them in place. If he was going to do this and risk losing his friendship he wanted to at least have done the thing he had wanted to do for about the last few weeks —if not since he had turned fifteen.
"Ron, I'm sorry but there's a few things that you don't know off. That I really need to confess." He smiled at the look of utter confusion on Ron's face, the poor sod was probably wondering why he hadn't been slapped yet. "The reason I have been trying to distance myself from you for
the last few weeks…", Harry took a deep breath, it was now or never. "InourfourthyearIsortofaccidentallypeekedinonyoutakingashowerandtheninfifthyearithappenedagainandIgotreallyconfusedbecausemybodyreactedeventhoughyouwhereaboyandthenIstartedhavingthesedreams—", he stopped when he was softly pinched in his cheeks.
He looked up at Ron, this time frowning himself, and was a bit surprised at seeing a big toothy grin splitting Ron's face in half. "Harry, you have to talk a bit more slowly, I didn't understand a word you said from when you said 'accidently'." Harry felt his face heat up and quickly turned his head away, simultaneously dislodging Ron's as well as his own hands from his now brightly blushing face. Harry wished he could be swallowed up by the floor —unfortunately he hadn't learned that spell yet, could this be any more embarrassing? First he had cried, sobbed, snickered and now he was blushing so red he could be mistaken as a tomato.
Harry huffed at the snicker that Ron apparently couldn't keep in, trying to ignore how warm his face felt, and started anew. "After the battle, after we lost Hermione, I didn't have anywhere left to go. So when you offered me to stay at you and your family's house, even after the horrible breakup with Ginny, I was very grateful. I am still very grateful for that." Harry quickly pressed his fingers to Ron's mouth when he saw that he was about to retort, "I know that you want to say how it was only natural to offer me help and give me a room, water and food, but it's not. In whole my life away from Hogwarts there was no one, is no one, who cared enough or not at all and they would have left me standing outside." Harry slowly pulled his fingers back from his best friend's face and clasped them together in his lap.
He looked up, from his fingers, to find that the big frown had returned to its unrighteous place on Ron's forehead. This was turning out to be quite more difficult to say than he had thought, maybe he should wait for a better moment t— No! He had already come this far he should finish it now. He took a deep breath and continued, though he didn't try to make eye contact this time, "But, even though I'm grateful, I've found that maybe it's time for me to leave." What was he saying? That wasn't what he'd meant to— "I can probably still fi—"
Harry was surprised into silence when Ron suddenly took his shoulders in a tight grip. "Why would you have to leave? If we— If I did something wrong, just tell me! I can fix it —probably, and I don't want—" Harry's face was non to gently pulled away from staring at the wall. When he tried to pull his face free from the hand holding his chin, the grip on his right shoulder tightened. "Why won't you look at me?" Harry felt like he'd been kicked in the stomach when he heard the desperate tone in Ron's voice. He relented and looked Ron in the eye, the emotion in them —the pain, made him flinch, and although he had just stopped, he started crying again. Ron's face betrayed the guilt he felt at making his friend cry but he pressed on, "Harry, tell me!"
Harry let out a chocked sob but didn't move away and tried to calm himself down. He had to explain. He couldn't— He took, or more like tried to take, a slow even breath and continued. "Ron, I can't stay here. I don't want to hurt you. If I stay you will surely hate me." He couldn't stop himself and the dams broke. "I don't want you to hate me. I wouldn't know what to do, I…I want to explain everything but I can't. If find another place to stay, and spend less time with you, maybe it will disappear and we can return to it being normal. Then I won't have to tell because it wouldn't be there anymore and everything would be fine. I just have to go away and it'll be fine!" Harry couldn't stop sobbing and his vision had gone blurry as the amount of tears over flooded his eyes.
"I… Harry please stop crying…" The grip on his shoulder disappeared and both of Ron's hands where now softly holding his face. "I won't ever hate you. Nothing in the world could make me hate you, you're the only one I have left. I love my family but it hasn't been the same after Fred died. And then with Hermione gone too everything started to feel pointless. But then I realized I still had you, you're my best friend, I wouldn't know what to do if you where gone too." Ron looked like he was about to cry too but —then again, one of the reasons Harry had always liked Ron was that he would, even at the worst of times, try to repair whatever was broken, in his own special way. "You can tell me. I promise that whatever it is you have to say, I won't hate you anymore than I do right now —which isn't much."
Harry snickered through another sob. Always Ron with his clumsy ways of trying to make amends. "What kind of a reassurance is that?"
His laughter was met by a watery snicker. "I don't know. It sounded a lot better in my head." He knew he was being silly, thinking Ron would hate him, but he couldn't help it. The times he had been told no one could love a freak like him, would want to be in the same room with a freak like him, had left him insecurities. It wasn't something that came as a surprise, he had known. But what he didn't know was that they had cut so deep, leaving him with hard-to-forget scars.
He didn't want to say it, the rejection would hurt, but he knew that if he didn't say it now he would never, he wouldn't be able to force himself to try again. He was still crying and Ron had started to sniff a bit too but they were also smiling and if saying that, what couldn't be avoided and needed to be said, would end this friendship, he wanted it to end on a moment like this.
He took a deep breath and lifted his hands to softly clasp Ron's face, in the same way that Ron had done with his. And he lovingly brushed his thumbs along a shaven jaw, belonging to a perfectly freckled face, before he stretched out his legs and shuffled closer. He, then, looked Ron directly in the eye and, after taking a deep breath —soundlessly, said the thing he had wanted to say for so long.
Ron's eyes grew comically big and his hands dropped away from Harry's face as he stuttered, "Harry, I… Do you mean—" Even though Harry had wanted to say it out loud, he had also wanted something else and, at the moment also a lot more, so he took the chance. He didn't hesitate and leaned forward, closing the small bit of distance between them.
Ron's lips where very soft, softer than he had expected, and Harry couldn't help but moan when he softly licked Ron's lips and the pleasant mixture of peppermint and chocolate met his tongue. It probably came from all the sweets Ron kept stocked in the pantry, the redhead always had some hidden in his pockets.
Ron hadn't pushed him away yet and this would probably be the only, and maybe last, chance he would ever get, at kissing him. So Harry didn't have to think it over for very long and he softly nibbled on Ron's bottom lip. He slid his hands down Ron's face to grasp the back of his neck and crawled ever closer so his thigh was pressed against Ron's. He softly tried to coax Ron's mouth open, licking at the crease between his lips, when a sharp intake of air made him stop.
He slowly pulled away to find an unmoved and shell shocked Ron staring at him, disbelief written all over his face. Ron hadn't responded, of course he hadn't responded… Harry pulled his hands back, this was as clear as a cue for him to leave could get. He turned away from Ron, softly placing his feet back on the ground, and pushed himself up from the couch.
He should hate himself, taking advantage of Ron's body like that. But Harry couldn't help but be happy. Even if he was to never see Ron again he could at least tell himself that he had succeeded in kissing him, touching him.
As he slowly walked towards the doorway, he had an —obvious, fake smile plastered on his face. How stupid. Dumb fucking idiot Harry. He had, for a second, actually thought his feelings might be returned… Ha! Like something that could ever happen! Harry hastily opened the door and once he was outside and the door fell closed behind him he quickly walked towards the broom shed. He probably couldn't stay here anymore. Maybe he could fly to Grimmauld place from here? It couldn't be that far, right?
As he was opening the rusty door to the broom shed, a sudden loud slam of wood on wood and fast heavy footsteps, made him jerk in surprise. He turned around to see Ron, red faced and fists balled, walking —more like running, towards him.
He didn't have any time to decide if he should run or hide, before Ron reached him. He didn't struggle when Ron grabbed him roughly by his hair, he deserved to be hurt after what he had done. He didn't fight it when a second hand fisted the front of his shirt, pulling him flush against a harshly panting body, he should be punished. He didn't do anything to stop whatever was happening, he was prepared for the pain, he should be killed. Thus he was rightfully surprised when, out of nowhere, soft lips aggressively planted themselves on his own with a bruising force.
Harry blinked when his brain was finally coherent enough, to realize what was happening and to give a reaction. He wanted to scream it aloud but, because of the redhead banging their noses together, he could only do it internally and exclaimed loudly that Ronald bloody Weasley was kissing him! He was kissing him! He; the little freak Harry, was being kissed! He was overjoyed and, when realizing he hadn't yet responded, immediately started returning the kiss. Though he was unsure if you could call it that, it was painful and uncomfortable as Ron bit his lips and the hand holding his hair twisted, making his scalp burn. But Harry couldn't help but love it and kissed back with vigor. This was really happening!
Harry was lost in the new sensations and clasped his arms around Ron's neck, pulling the redhead closer. Ron's hand was still grabbing and tugging on Harry's hair, the other hand slowly loosened its grip on his shirt and slid down to his waist and from there on further down to his bottom. When Ron started to harshly squeeze and knead one of his buttocks, Harry gasped out a breathy moan, which was affectively lost in one of their teeth clashing kisses. He had never felt so heated before and if he had, never so fast. His moan was answered by a low groan and the hand on his buttock moved lower, suddenly sliding down to his tailbone, where one finger suddenly prodded softly at unthreaded territory. No one had ever touched him there before and Harry couldn't help but cling onto Ron's neck for dear life as powerful shudders wrecked his body.
"Please!" Harry moaned into Ron's mouth, before he quick think further on it, and reached up one of his hands to tangle in red tousled hair, grinding his arousal into the taller man's hip. "Please…I want to…" Harry licked a shiny path of saliva from Ron's lips to his right ear, where he circled the shell before softly sucking on the lobe, and in a throaty voice continued, "I want to ruin our friendship." Ron replied with a loud groan and returned the, now unregulated, harsh grinding with fervor.
If what they were doing had looked anything like kissing before it surely didn't now, as they weren't involving their lips anymore. It had evolved into a play of hands and teeth as they rutted against each other, biting and clawing at every part of each other that came within reach. Harry managed to keep himself upright by practically imbedding his nails into Ron's back, while the taller man enthusiastically thrust and grinded his own sex against him, making the pair moan loudly every time that their pelvis' brushed.
Harry wanted to go further, he needed it. But at the same time it was going too fast, it didn't feel right, he needed to know why this was suddenly happening before they continued to go any further.
"Ron.", Harry hadn't meant for it to come out as a moan but when the hand that had started fondling and stroking his cleft —a short while ago, suddenly moved to between his legs and put pressure on his perineum he, understandably, couldn't help it. "Ron, please. We haven't talked this out yet.", Ron didn't pause in his grinding, or exploring of the spot that had made Harry moan, and only took on a higher pace when Harry tried to softly pry his hands loose. "Ron, I don't want to— Ah!", Harry bit his lips, stopping a rain of moans that threatened to come out, as the hand in his hair loosened and dropped to tweak at one of his nipples. "Ron, stop…we —we have to talk!", this time Harry enforced his words by harshly biting Ron's ear, when the redhead came within reach as he made to lick at Harry's jaw.
The effect was instantaneous and Ron stopped to let out a pained hiss —although Harry didn't miss the slight twitch of a certain organ, now pressing up against his stomach. Harry made sure to note that down, for possible future exploration. "Why are you doing this?", the question apparently got Ron by surprise as his head immediately whipped around, to look at him.
"I…", Ron seemed troubled as he bit down on his own, kiss-swollen, lower lip and shortly averted his eyes before he continued, "I didn't want you to leave."
Harry felt a wave of anger, disappointment and sadness wash through him at Ron's words. Ron hadn't kissed him because he returned his feelings, he had kissed him to stop him. Harry swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat and slid his hands in between their, still wedged together, chests. "Let me go."
"Harry, I—"
"Let me go!" Harry pushed at Ron with all the power he could muster but Ron's, sudden, iron grip around his waist easily stopped the attempt.
Harry looked up, masking the feeling of helplessness he felt at seeing Ron's glare directed at him, and gave his best imitation of Snape's infamous sneer. Ron wasn't effected and continued, "I won't let you run away again!" Ron's face, which had still been a peachy color from their previous relentless kissing, had become burning red at the end, clashing with his fiery red hair.
Harry laughed, he had meant for it to sound mocking but it sounded more hurt and miserable than anything else. "Running Away? I wasn't running away. It was clear you didn't want me here so I was just leaving!"
Ron frowned and Harry could see by the clenching of his jaw that he had said something wrong. When Ron spoke, his voice was filled with a normally kept back rage, "How the fuck did you come up with the idea that I wanted you to leave?!" His voice raised in volume as he continued, "I fucking kissed you back! You bloody idiot!"
Harry wasn't going to take this lying down and shouted back, "I don't want your pity!" He tried to push Ron away, again, but he —again, was stopped. Angry, sad and hurt Harry kicked Ron against his shins. The painful kick made Ron's face contort in pain and he let out a pain filled hiss.
Ron's grip tightened even further and it got difficult to breath, "I don't pity you, you fool! In fact I'm starting to feel the exact opposite!" Harry felt like he'd been punched in the stomach but didn't show it as he glared up at Ron with all the anger he could muster. A slight prickling in the corner of his eye made it clear that he wasn't succeeding. Ron's eyes softened and his arms loosened a little, but just enough to make breathing less of a struggle, "Harry... I—" Ron took a deep breath before continuing, "I do...you know...return your feelings."
All of Harry's anger suddenly vanished and he looked at Ron's, beet red, face with confusion, "Huh?"
Ron's got an even darker shade of red, if that was even possible, "Don't make me say it you git."
It felt like hours before Ron's words seemed to reach him and even when they did all Harry could get out was; "Huh?"
Ron ground his teeth together and with maybe more anger than was necessary bit out, "Dammit, Harry! I love you to!"
Harry's couldn't believe it, he in fact didn't believe it. "What do you mean?" Was Ron trying to give him false hope? Was this all just an elaborate prank, to get him back for not saving Fred?
Ron looked at him with exasperation, "What do you think I mean? I love you, I want to kiss you and touch you and grow old together and all that crap.". Ron looked him right in the eye as he said: "I want to be together."
At the very uncharacteristic words, coming out of his best friend's mouth, Harry suddenly lost all his suspicion. If this was a prank, Ron would definitely not have taken it this far. That could only mean that he meant it... Ron loved him back. Ron loved him back!
Harry couldn't have stopped the smile that curved his lips, even if he'd wanted to. "You do?"
Ron smiled back, his eyes sparkling with suddenly unrestrained emotions, "Why do you think I just ravished you in my parent's broom shed?" Harry looked around and blushed, they were indeed standing in the broom shed. When did that happen? He heard a soft chuckle, a hot breath brushing his ear, and turned back to Ron, jutting out his lower lip in a playful pout. Ron's smile turned serious and Harry sucked in a breath of air at his —what was their status anyway?— friends intense look. "You know I meant every word, right?"
Harry smile brightened and the telltale warmth of a blush crept up his neck, "I know."
Both not knowing how to continue, they just smiled at each other.
After a minute, Ron was the one to break the silence, "Then I guess we should make up for lost time?"
Harry grinned, "As boyfriends?" The question escaped of his mouth without thinking and Harry felt like hitting himself all over again, but he had already said it. He couldn't take it back now. And Harry didn't lose his smile, even though inside he felt like crying.
All his worry was for naught though when Ron immediately answered, "Yeah, I'd like that a lot." Harry's smile broadened impossibly further at that and when Ron slowly leaned closer, he lifted his head to meet him halfway.
This was….their second— No! This was their third kiss! But if you where only counting purely consensual kisses —from both parties, than this would make it their first.
It was a lot less aggressive than their first two kisses, and it was also a lot more enjoyable. This kiss was very soft and lacked both the overly wetness from the first kiss and the very dryness of the second, this one was a pleasant in between. Ron and Harry went back and forth with nipping and nibbling at each other's lips, but it didn't contain the bruising feeling their previous attempt had brought nor was it a very uncomfortable one-man-job with no response, it was corporation and teamwork at its finest. Harry would nip at Ron's bottom lip and when he felt the slight pressure of Ron's tongue against his own, he would pull back with Ron's bottom lip held softly between his teeth before letting go and giving it a final lick so Ron could return the gesture.
But even though he thought that now, when Ron softly pushed against his lips with his tongue —asking for permission, and he granted him access, he felt even the nipping and nibbling blanch in comparison. He was hesitant at first but when Ron's warm and moist tongue softly stroked his own, all ideas of holding back where forgotten.
Harry couldn't help but think that this could only be a dream, nothing should be able to feel this good without it being a dream, but it wasn't. He wasn't in heaven either; he was just kissing his boyfriend. Harry grinned into the kiss at that, it was funny how Ginny calling him that had felt like the end of the world but when it applied to him and Ron, it made the world only seem more colorful and look more beautiful than it probably actually was.
His musing where quickly forgotten when Ron's hands left their place on his lower back, and slowly slid down to cup his buttocks and squeeze, drawing a appreciative moan from his throat.
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A/N: So that was that. If anyone asks for it, I could write the smexy scene that surely followed but I thought that this was a good moment to end the story without a too big of a PWP vibe. Do leave a comment/review if you liked it. Criticism can be a writers hero in a time of writer's block.
If you have a certain OTP or just a couple that you would like to get more attention, leave a request with the pairing (or not, I have no problem with stories without romance) and basic plot line and if I have the time or feel like I can do something with it, I'll maybe write it. No promises though, it's still my hand that has to do all the typing.
And with that, have a nice day.