A/N: Just a oneshot of Ron and Harry. It is a slash fic with MPREG.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot!

It only took one time

It was only one time. That's all it took, I guess.

I knew I loved him when we were 14 and he was the 'thing I'd miss most' during the second task. I told him I loved him when we were 24, standing in the kitchen of the flat we shared, firewhiskey still burning the back of my throat. Like an idiot, I couldn't stop there. Ten years of love and lust had finally been released and I couldn't contain it, no matter how hard I tried. I said, "I'm in love with you," and didn't wait a full second before I charged at his lips and snogged the shocked redhead into oblivion. We had quick, rough sex against the wall in the kitchen, and the whole time I couldn't help but wonder if he realized what he was doing. I knew he was drunk, I was pissed as well, but he seemed in a daze the whole time. Part of me was glad that I was facing the wall, my hands against it to brace myself, so that I didn't have to see his face. When it was over, he pulled out and leaned against me heavily, his hands wrapping against mine still against the wall. I became suddenly overaware of the fact that our shirts were still on and our pants were at our ankles. After a short moment, he pulled away and pulled his pants back up, fastening them and leaving the room silently but swiftly. It was like he had finally realized what had happened. I stayed like that for a few minutes, my head drooping in shame. I pulled up my own pants and walked up the stairs and down the hall to my room. I packed my things in a suitcase and shrunk it, putting it in my pocket. I left quietly, never entering the front room where I knew he'd be sitting on the sofa with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.

I stayed with Hermione for the night and moved away the following day. I didn't tell her what happened, I just told her I'd contact her when I found a place and explained that I couldn't be around for a while. She hadn't asked what 'a while' meant, and I knew that was because she was already aware that she wouldn't like the answer.

I found a place in Muggle London that was small and homey. I was able to visit Teddy and Andromeda at least once a week, and I did odd jobs for the Ministry. Professor McGonagall contacted me often, trying to persuade me into teaching at Hogwarts, and I nearly accepted, except that after a few months of living in my new place, I found myself getting sick a lot. A trip to St. Mungo's informed me that I'd went and gotten myself pregnant. I hadn't been with anyone since Ron, so I knew it was his. It was only one time. That's all it took, I guess.

Confused and embarrassed, I had decided that no one else could know. I hadn't known that men could get pregnant. Two days after I'd found out, I visited Andromeda. I swore her to secrecy and then I told her my situation, trying not to cry all the while. She showed no shock, but took it in stride and then made tea while she swallowed it all. She sat back down quietly and took my hand. "We'll get through this," she'd said. And finally I felt like I could breathe again.

She'd explained to me that it was very rare for a Wizard to get pregnant, and that she'd only met one other person to whom it had happened. That Wizard, she'd said, had been married to his husband for five years and they had tried for a baby all the while, knowing it was improbable. When one of the partners had died, the Wizard had found out about his pregnancy three months later. It had been a gift. A way for the Wizard's husband to live on. I had, at first, been confused. Not only was Ron not dead, but we hadn't been married, we hadn't been trying for a baby, and most certainly we hadn't been in love. Well, I had been in love, but Ron had been heartbroken from his breakup with Hermione and had been drunk and dazed and confused. Andromeda promised that she would help me with the pregnancy and the baby and swore that she would keep it all a secret, but insisted that I tell Ron, Hermione, and the Weasleys. At least Mrs. Weasley, she'd persisted.

It had taken a couple of weeks for me to come to terms with it all, myself, let alone me telling other people, Ron specifically. I'd eventually told Hermione, when she'd arrived one day on my doorstep, angry that I'd been avoiding her for a nearly a month. She took one look at my stomach, Apparated away, and returned fifteen minutes later with takeout, sitting me down at the table and lecturing me about the way I needed to start taking care of my body. The food she'd picked up was healthy and made me cringe, but I knew she was right. It wasn't until she'd finished telling me about proper foods and proper sleep and making sure I was going to all of my St. Mungo's appointments that she finally said, "Are you planning on telling him?"

I'd stared at her for a few minutes, trying to read her expression and reaction. She had a very, matter-of-fact look on her face, waiting silently, though not entirely patiently, for my answer. I wondered briefly if she knew it was Ron's. She had a way of knowing things.

"Harry, he has a right to know. You don't have to tell all of the Weasleys if you don't want to, but I think he deserves to know,"

…Like I said.

I sighed. "How do you...?"

"Who else would it be, Harry? It's been nearly four months since you moved away, rather suddenly as it were. With the way you're showing, you've got to be about that far along. And, anyways, who else?" She offered him an understanding smile and held his hand, much the way Andromeda had a few weeks previous.

"I don't think I can," I said quietly, tucking into my greens.

"You should. And you can. I'll do it with you,"

I never gave her a straight answer that night. She brought supper nearly every night until the baby was born. She'd accompany me to visit Teddy and Andromeda occasionally. One night, rather late, she brought Mrs. Weasley. I was so angry at her I could've never spoken to her again. But the second Mrs. Weasley saw me, she gathered me into her arms and said she was so excited to be a grandmother she could cry. I again wondered how she knew it was Ron's.

Mrs. Weasley never pressured me to tell her son or the rest of the family. After a while, Hermione stopped as well. They stopped talking about him completely, and it didn't take me long to figure out that it was because they didn't want to hurt me. Clearly, Ron didn't care much that I'd left. Knowing him, he'd probably just be getting pissed every night, shagging a different bird, trying to get over Hermione. Mrs. Weasley and Hermione were trying to protect me from being more heartbroken, and I respected that, glad that they didn't insist I tell him. Before I knew it, I'd given birth to a little boy with blazing green eyes, smooth pale skin, and thick head of wild orange hair. I called him James Arthur Potter and felt like fatherhood was the only thing that made sense in the world.

The instant I held James in my arms, I knew I couldn't ever tell Ron. James deserved all the love in the world. He didn't deserve to be turned away or blamed by Ron for something that the innocent baby had no part of. He would never be turned away, not if I had anything to say about it.

Hermione and Mrs. Weasley helped me with James. They visited often and watched him when I needed to run an errand or go into the Wizarding world for any reason. No one had cared that I'd been in hiding for nine months, in fact no one had noticed.

A month before James's first birthday, I'd been in Diagon Alley one afternoon, picking up a few books and quills and toys for James, when I'd run into Ron. Literally. I was walking out of Gringott's, staring down at my list, and this gorgeous redhead was flipping through a copy of the Daily Prophet and he ran straight into me, knocking me back. I looked up, startled, and when I saw who it was, my breath sped up and my heart skipped a beat. It was like I was looking at an older version of my son and that warmed my heart. I stared deeply into his eyes for a moment, before coming back to reality and mumbling an apology nervously, shuffling off in a hurry. Ron had looked like he'd seen a ghost. Poor bloke. I bet he couldn't look at me without thinking of the last time we'd seen each other. I bet it made him feel sick all over again. I tried to put it out of my mind.

Two days later, Hermione showed up with a rather confused look lining her face. She looked both worried and nervous, handing me a piece of paper and saying that she was going to take James out for a walk. I waited until I heard the door close and was sure my son was gone before I let my shock take over. I knew what this piece of paper was. It was a letter from Ron. I made a bet of ten galleons with myself that it was passed through Hermione because Ron had been informed that I lived in a Muggle town, so owling was frowned upon. I wouldn't have cared, though. I'd done it at Private Drive.

The letter was short. It said in Ron's messy handwriting, "Haven't seen you in a while, mate. Was good bumping into you. Care to do it again, soon? Maybe less abruptly with more talking, this time? –Ron"

I reread it again and again. I couldn't help but wonder if he was talking about our meeting two days earlier or our last night together a year and a half ago. Both had been abrupt and without much talking, hadn't they? I'd crumpled the note up and thrown it in the fire before I could get too emotional about it. I had more to think about than just myself and my own hormones. I had a son, now.

Hermione never brought up the note. James had his birthday party with Teddy, Andromeda, Hermione, and Mrs. Weasley. He had started to walk when he was nearly eleven months old, so I made a mental note to buy him a broom in a few months time. I know I'm biased, but James is the most beautiful boy in the world. He looks like my mother, and I always wonder what my parents would say if they were still alive. I wonder if they'd be disappointed in me for the situation I'd gotten myself in. I reckon they can't have been too disappointed, because while he wasn't planned, James was the best thing that ever happened to me.

Three months after his birthday, I decided to buy him his first broom. I left him with Hermione and ran to Diagon Alley. Again, I ran into Ron. This time, he was leaving a pub next to the broom shop. He'd stopped in the doorway when he saw me, and I jumped when I spotted him, not expecting to see him at all. He stared straight into my eyes. His face looked defeated and worn, his eyes pleading with me for something I was unaware of. I searched his face for meaning for nearly five minutes. Then I looked away, embarrassed once again. I continued walking toward the door of the broom shop and only glanced once more briefly at him before I entered. He looked slightly haunted and it hurt my heart a little.

A fortnight later, late at night, an owl tapped at my kitchen window. I was already awake because James had had a nightmare and was crying his little head off, his face redder than his hair. I was holding him, tightly against my chest, his little legs wrapped around my middle and his arms attached around my neck. I was rocking us back and forth while I warmed a sippy cup with milk. The tap at the window made me jump, but I knew it was from him. I let the owl in and apologized to for having no owl treats, taking the letter from its leg and telling it that it could stay until the storm died down outside. It hooted at me before flying out and I knew that it just wanted food that I couldn't provide.

"I miss you. I know you left for a reason, but last week Hermione told me where you live, so I'm coming over. –Ron"

My heart pounded. He must be drunk. It was nearly one in the morning, I could have been asleep and never even seen the note before the daft asshole started banging on my front door. Panicked, I ran James back up to his room and lay him back down in his crib with his sippy cup. I know, I needed to get around to getting him a proper bed, but I hadn't yet, and he was still my baby after all.

He started crying when I left the room, so I turned on his light and promised him I'd come back in a couple of minutes. He rubbed his sleepy eyes and continued to cry, so I tried to calm myself down and picked him back up, rocking him again. I sighed. This night was going to end badly.

Not ten minutes later, Ron was knocking at my door. It was not a 'Ron' knock. It wasn't obnoxious or loud, it was rather quiet and timid. As if he was testing the fates to see it I'd open it. James settled enough for me to lay him back down, turn off his light again, and then I walked slowly to the front door, trying to level my rapid breathing. When I opened the door, my heart nearly stopped. Ron was not drunk. He was dressed in a button down shirt, his hair combed, his hands in his pockets. He looked at me nervously and ran a hand over the back of his neck. It was in that moment that I realized that I'd never been with anyone else not because of James but because I was still in love with James' father. I stood away from the door and waited for Ron to enter before closing the door softly, hoping James had fallen asleep.

"Sorry if my owl woke you," Ron told me.

I shook my head and led the way to the kitchen, sitting down at the table and gesturing for him to do the same. "I was already awake,"

"Everything alright?" Ron asked me, worried, I knew, about why I'd still be awake.

"Yeah, just couldn't sleep," I assured him, still not meeting his gaze.

"Sorry about it being so late, I was going to come earlier, but I just didn't know if you'd freak out, but then I just realized that I needed to come, even if you freak out. Don't blame Hermione, either, for giving me your address. I've been going on about it for months and I finally wore her down, I think. I just needed to see you, mate. It's been ages,"

I couldn't help but smile slightly at the way he was rambling. "'S'alright, mate,"

He sighed heavily. I couldn't help but remember that night in the kitchen. I looked around and cursed myself for choosing the kitchen to come to, it was just the farthest room from James, and I was still hoping he'd fall asleep.

"Harry, I love you…I mean I think that I love you," Ron said rather abruptly, his eyes glaring into mine, his face and breathing unsure, but determined.

I took a deep breath to respond, but a scream from up the stairs interrupted and I cursed under my breath before standing and running up the stairs. I grabbed James from his crib and tried to calm him down, whispering and kissing his forehead, rocking him and walking around the room slowly. Fifteen minutes later, he was passed out on my shoulder, so I put him back in his crib and covered him with a blanket, before starting out of the room. I stopped dead in my tracks when I saw Ron standing in the doorway, his composure slumped, his head hanging. The room was still dark, being that I'd never turned the light on, so I couldn't read his face. I exited the room quietly and went back down to the front room, sitting on the sofa and waiting for Ron to follow suit.

"I didn't realize you'd gotten married," Ron said after a moment.

I chuckled and shook my head, rubbing my hands over my face. When I looked back at Ron, his face was screwed up, hurt and confusion radiating from his eyes. I couldn't help myself. I reached out and laid my palm against the side of his face.

"James is yours, Ron,"

I got up and made tea, bringing some out for Ron, who still sat, stunned on the sofa. "How?"

I tried to explain as best as I could what had gone on in the past two years. He took it all in quietly. When I was finished, his eyes met mine. "I'm sorry," he said quietly.

I shook my head, my face screwed up in question. "Why are you sorry?"

"Because I was so screwed up. I'm sorry that you didn't feel you could tell me. I'm sorry that you had to do this by yourself. I'm sorry I wasn't there. I'm sorry it took me so long,"

I took a deep breath and shrugged my shoulders. "It's not your fault, Ron. I sprung something on you two years ago that was inappropriate and you weren't ready for. I could have told you at any point about James. And I didn't do it alone. I had your mum and Hermione alongside me the whole way,"

Ron nodded slowly. "You're right, I wasn't ready for it. But it wasn't inappropriate. I was confused. I thought I loved Hermione and when you kissed me, my body reacted before my mind did. I didn't understand how I could feel so strongly about you and never have realized it. The second you were gone, I wanted you to come back, I just didn't understand what had happened or what I could do to fix it. Harry, I've known you since we were eleven and I've looked into your eyes countless times over those years. But when I saw you in Diagon Alley- when we ran into each other the first time, I saw more in your eyes than I ever thought possible. It was like I could see down to your soul. Like I could only stare into those eyes for the rest of my life and I'd be perfectly fine with it. I know that with James, things are a little more complicated, but I want it all anyway. I want to be with you and I want to know my son,"

It was more than I'd ever heard Ron say in one sitting. He was usually the quiet one. We kissed again that night. Nothing more. The next morning, he met James and the boys hit it off perfectly. There was no denying that James was his. Ron stayed again the next night, and eventually he just never left. We settled into a new life together. The Weasley family was thrilled to meet James. It took a while to adjust to it all.

It was James' second birthday already. The Weasleys, Hermione and her new husband, and the Tonks' were coming over at three. Ron was in the shower with James and I was knocking up something for breakfast. Hermione was making a cake and Mrs. Weasley was making food for the party. The door to the kitchen swung open and Ron walked in, a towel in one hand trying to dry his sopping wet hair, and a much smaller redhead in the other arm, his own wet hair poking out in a million directions. I just smiled and pointed my wand at each of their heads, drying their hair instantly before giving them each a kiss goodmorning and taking our son to his chair for breakfast. I went to put the food on plates when Ron came up behind me and wrapped his arms around me, burying his head in my neck.

"You smell good," he told me, groaning slightly. I chuckled and told him lightly to bugger off and sit down for breakfast.

He proposed to me that day, in front of our friends, family, and son. James had squealed excitedly and I reveled in the fact that our love was so stong that even before we were together, it had only taken one time for us to start a family. It had only taken one time for us to create the little boy that clung to us tightly, standing between us and holding each of our hands as we joined our lives. Forever.

Fin!

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