Author: Jerb
Rating: PG
Pairing: Ron/Harry, Harry/?
Written for the harryandron FQF. Challenge: Post-Hogwarts, one cheats on the other.
They were playing a game.
Harry would be at their flat when he should have been at work. Ron pretended to buy his excuse of feeling ill. When Ron entered the room, the Floo would suddenly be empty. And Harry would pretend he was not talking to anyone. Harry would say, "I love you." Ron would pretend that he believed him.
It was their game.
When Ron arrived home a day early from the Auror conference, he pretended that he was not worried about what, or who, he would find there.
Their game would end.
Ron was going to make a nice romantic dinner for just the two of them. And if things went right, and why wouldn't they go right, they would getting little sleep tonight.
Ron tossed his keys on the table thinking of his plans. His keys fell next to another set of keys—Harry's keys. Harry's shirt was on the couch. Two partially filled wine glasses were on the mantel. Harry was home.
"Harry?" Ron's voice called through the flat.
The bedroom door slowly opened, and Harry, clad only in his boxers and looking agitated, stepped out and shut the door quickly. "Ron? I thought you weren't coming back until tomorrow."
"Yeah, well, things didn't take as long as expected. Is there something in our room?"
Harry looked at the door and back at Ron. "What? No, I was just sleeping. Room's a mess. Didn't want you to see the..."
Ron's hand had made it to the doorknob during Harry's nervous rambling. With a glance towards Harry, who was looking increasingly anxious, Ron jerked the door open.
No one was in the room. It was clean, organized. Even the bed was made.
"Room's a mess? Looks clean to me. Your aunt must have been stricter than I thought."
"Yeah. Er, well..."
"Who?"
"Who? What? Er..."
The game was getting old.
It seemed as though whenever he came home unexpected, Harry would be in the middle of something, of sleeping, of bathing, of... "Who is he? Or she?"
Harry just stared at him.
"Damn it, Harry! I just want to know who you've been taking into our bed!"
"Ron, I...I..." Harry glanced at the bed, any traces of an excuse or an apology unable to grace his lips. Ron looked at him. He couldn't do it anymore.
"I'm leaving. I'll be back tomorrow for my stuff."
Ron left the bedroom.
He opened the door.
Stepped outside.
The game ended.
Closed the door.
And they lost.
Cried.