Hey, Harry?

Afterwards, they blamed it on the house. The ancient and most noble house of Black, they decided, had bored them both senseless, and because they had seen no people of their own age outside of the house, they were bound to be going a little crazy.

After all, they needed to hold something responsible. They couldn't just carry on with the knowledge that one evening, during the summer before their sixth year, Ron had asked Harry to kiss him, and Harry had eagerly obliged.

They had been in the newly doxy-free drawing room of Sirius' old house, playing a particularly brutal game of wizard chess.

As Ron's rook beat Harry's knight about the head, the redhead winced slightly at the memory of the hazardous first-year chess game in which they could have lost their lives.

"Bet that hurt," said Ron with a grin, "But that's what happens if you lose control of the central squares early on,"

"Shut up!" said Harry. "Anyway, it's your go," he went back to staring hard at the board.

Ron, however, was gazing interestedly at is opponent's face.

"Hey, Harry?" he said hesitantly, "have you ever wondered what… what you're like- y'know, at kissing?"

Harry turned from the board to look at Ron. He couldn't have heard that right.

"At what?"

"Kissing- oh, forget it,"

Desperate to look anywhere but Harry, Ron looked at the chessboard.

"If my bishop… no, because your pawn…" he mumbled, in a failed attempt to distract himself.

"Yeah. I do," said Harry. "I do wonder sometimes. Why?"

Ron looked at Harry in surprise. His ears turned very red.

"Well, d'you want to find out?"

"Ron- you're not, well, gay, are you?

"No- bloody hell, I knew I shouldn't have said anything-"

"Alright then. I mean, you're not gay, and I'm not either, so it won't be awkward,"

Ignoring this extremely skewed logic, Ron put a hand on his best friend's shoulder.

"Okay. So- I go like this…" and with that, he leaned across the chess board, closed his eyes and put his lips on Harry's. His hand still rested awkwardly on his best friend's shoulder, and he gripped it as their tongues met. Ron realised that Harry's tongue was warm and wet, just as he'd expected, but it was altogether a more pleasant experience than he had anticipated. Ron's tongue slid into Harry's mouth experimentally, and Harry made a muffled noise of either enjoyment or protest. Ron pulled away.

"Harry? Did you just moan, mate?"

Harry went red.

"No!"

"Anyway, how was I?"

"Er, you could've been worse,"

"Oh, thanks! You aren't exactly God's gift to women yourself!"

"Shut up!" said Harry, getting up from his chair. He walked around the table, leaned down, seized Ron and started kissing him roughly. Ron's hands hit the chessboard, scattering pieces everywhere. The Gryffindors' tongues met again. Harry pushed Ron further back into the chair, eliciting a moan from Ron. Harry drew back and returned to his seat, a triumphant grin on his face.

"Take it back!"

"Okay," said Ron, defeated. "You made your point…"