Sharing is Much Better than Being Alone
By: Evangeline Henri
Rating: PG
Summary: Those seconds after a first kiss. Harry/Ron SLASH.
Spoilers: None.
Archives: FF.net. All others are welcome; just ask. I
like to know where my stuff is going so I can
visit it, send it flowers, little presents.
The usual.
Dedication: To Atalanta, who read this instead of paying
attention to one of the most boring Eighth Amendment
cases ever tried in the City of New York. God bless
America, dear. And to Kitten, my sickly BETA who read
this and returned it in record time. And to Yumie, who
I still love.
Disclaimer: I own neither Harry nor Ron; JK Rowling and
WB do. I merely borrow, play with, and return.
*****
"I shouldn't have done that." Ron was the first to speak.
While their lips had been pressed together, youthfully, reverently,
the silence hadn't been quite so ominous. It had been tempered by
the little things- their hearts beating, the rustle of the curtains
in the nighttime breeze. When they had parted, though, the silence
had roared up in front of them. It loomed up, threatening to
overwhelm the two boys.
"No, it's-" The green in Harry's eyes was especially bright
tonight, Ron noticed. They were positively glowing, his head resting
against the headboard. Harry's hair was tousled, locks of it sticking
out at the oddest angles. Here, in the dark, he was as beautiful as
ever, maybe even more.
"No, Harry." Ron held up a hand. "You don't have to say
anything." He took a deep breath, willing himself to remain calm.
It wouldn't do to go to pieces now; he had to stay in control. If
he slipped up for just a moment, he felt that his eyes would stop
obeying his brain, and the tears that were waiting in the wings
would fall. And Ron refused to let himself cry.
"Look, I'm really sorry about that. I don't know what I
was thinking." In all truthfulness, though, Ron knew exactly what
he had been thinking in those few seconds. He wasn't sorry, either.
But never mind about that... best just to pretend it had been
spontaneous. "It's just, well, I was listening to you talk about
never having kissed anyone. And I thought to myself, well, why
shouldn't your first kiss come from me?" He stopped for a moment,
but Harry merely waited for him to proceed.
"I mean, if you're going to be kissing people, your first
one has to be special. It should come from someone you know, someone
you trust. That first person has to be close to you, because if it
all goes terribly, and you freeze up and you have your tongues in
each other's mouths and you think that you're going to choke- Well,
at least it'd be someone you could laugh about it with later. I'm
not saying you were a bad kisser or anything," he added hastily,
not exactly sure what words were falling out of his mouth,
"not at all. It was an amazing kiss. But if it hadn't been,
you wouldn't want to embarrass yourself in front of someone you
barely know, right?"
A cloud passed over the moon for a moment, making it
hard to see anything. Ron thought he saw Harry nod, though. He
decided that it would have to do, and plunged ahead. "And I just
kept thinking about who it should be, right? I mean, when Harry
Potter decides to kiss someone, especially when it's his first
kiss, that's got to be important. Not that I kissed you just
because you're famous, and all. But I was trying to figure out
whom a good person would be for you to kiss. To get you started
out and all that."
Now he couldn't stop talking, although he had the sinking
sensation he was prattling on about nonsense. "And I remembered
at the Yule Ball, when we went for a walk, and everyone was being
kicked out of the bushes by Snape. This would definitely be a
better place to have a first kiss than there. Out in the cold,
with all those prickly leaves and twigs, and Snape. Whose about
as prickly and cold and horribly icky as you can get, but that's
besides the point." He wrinkled his nose for a moment.
"Besides, if there's anyone you've embarrassed yourself in
front of, that's me, so you wouldn't have to be worried about
doing something wrong. And we've been friends forever, so you
know that I'm not going to kiss you just because you're... well,
you. I once kissed Hermione, too, so I've had some experience.
Although she did smack me and then proceed to put me into a Body
Bind, so I guess that's not the best of my qualifications. But
I thought that, all in all, I was a pretty good choice. Except
for that whole, not being a girl thing. Which I couldn't really
do anything about in the first place, so I kind of put that aside.
"So I'm really sorry if you're disgusted because I kissed you
or because you think I've wanted to get in your pants all this time-
which, I haven't, by the way. But I just kept thinking and thinking,
and all I could come up with was, 'Why not me?'"
Ron stopped himself, cutting off the torrent of words that
had been rushing from his mouth, a raging river of excuses. He took
a deep breath, willing everything that had remained unsaid to settle
back down. "I've been babbling, haven't I?" He tried to smile
self-deprecatingly, but felt that he was just baring his teeth at
Harry.
Harry nodded.
"Sorry about that." Ron stood, feeling evermore foolish.
"Well, since I've managed to ruin the best thing I had going for me
with one ill-placed kiss, I think it'd be best if I retreat back to
my own bed to lick my wounds." He held up a hand. "I'm not bitter,
really. But if you could just see yourself, Harry- well, you'd be
as shocked as the rest of us are that you've never been kissed
until now."
Ron turned to go, keeping his eyes anywhere but on Harry,
who was still watching him. Soon, he'd be safe in his own bed, and
he could pile comforter upon comforter over his body and try to warm
himself. He could cry there, too, and no one would ever know.
And when he finally exhausted himself and sleep blissfully came,
maybe there'd be some answer to the horrible mess into which one
kiss had gotten him.
"Ron."
Ron turned, half-hoping he had imagined that reedy, but
determined, voice. But there was no doubt in Harry's features that
he had called Ron's name. He ran a hand through his hair, and said,
"Yeah, Har'?"
Harry's mouth curved into a smile. "What, you're just
going to kiss me and run? That was how you thought my love life
should officially begin, Weasley?"
Ron, so loquacious only a minute ago, could not find any
words whatsoever. Instead, he let his legs answer by bringing him
back to the bedside, and let his eyes answer by never once leaving
Harry's face. They were the only parts of him that were able to
overcome the shock; the rest had stopped functioning altogether.
He wondered if this was what it was like to faint, wondered if the
next moment would find him unconscious, his torso on Harry's bed
and the rest of him slumped on the floor.
"Because that's not fair." Harry grabbed his hand, and
pulled down. Ron toppled onto Harry's bed in a rather unbecoming
fashion, his head landing mere inches from Harry's.
"If you're going to run, I've got to have a chain so that
I can pull you back to me," he whispered, as an arm snaked around
Ron's waist. "And I intend to start forging one right now."
And Ron, though he had been anxious to escape to his own bed,
found that sharing was much nicer than being alone.
-The End-
By: Evangeline Henri
Rating: PG
Summary: Those seconds after a first kiss. Harry/Ron SLASH.
Spoilers: None.
Archives: FF.net. All others are welcome; just ask. I
like to know where my stuff is going so I can
visit it, send it flowers, little presents.
The usual.
Dedication: To Atalanta, who read this instead of paying
attention to one of the most boring Eighth Amendment
cases ever tried in the City of New York. God bless
America, dear. And to Kitten, my sickly BETA who read
this and returned it in record time. And to Yumie, who
I still love.
Disclaimer: I own neither Harry nor Ron; JK Rowling and
WB do. I merely borrow, play with, and return.
*****
"I shouldn't have done that." Ron was the first to speak.
While their lips had been pressed together, youthfully, reverently,
the silence hadn't been quite so ominous. It had been tempered by
the little things- their hearts beating, the rustle of the curtains
in the nighttime breeze. When they had parted, though, the silence
had roared up in front of them. It loomed up, threatening to
overwhelm the two boys.
"No, it's-" The green in Harry's eyes was especially bright
tonight, Ron noticed. They were positively glowing, his head resting
against the headboard. Harry's hair was tousled, locks of it sticking
out at the oddest angles. Here, in the dark, he was as beautiful as
ever, maybe even more.
"No, Harry." Ron held up a hand. "You don't have to say
anything." He took a deep breath, willing himself to remain calm.
It wouldn't do to go to pieces now; he had to stay in control. If
he slipped up for just a moment, he felt that his eyes would stop
obeying his brain, and the tears that were waiting in the wings
would fall. And Ron refused to let himself cry.
"Look, I'm really sorry about that. I don't know what I
was thinking." In all truthfulness, though, Ron knew exactly what
he had been thinking in those few seconds. He wasn't sorry, either.
But never mind about that... best just to pretend it had been
spontaneous. "It's just, well, I was listening to you talk about
never having kissed anyone. And I thought to myself, well, why
shouldn't your first kiss come from me?" He stopped for a moment,
but Harry merely waited for him to proceed.
"I mean, if you're going to be kissing people, your first
one has to be special. It should come from someone you know, someone
you trust. That first person has to be close to you, because if it
all goes terribly, and you freeze up and you have your tongues in
each other's mouths and you think that you're going to choke- Well,
at least it'd be someone you could laugh about it with later. I'm
not saying you were a bad kisser or anything," he added hastily,
not exactly sure what words were falling out of his mouth,
"not at all. It was an amazing kiss. But if it hadn't been,
you wouldn't want to embarrass yourself in front of someone you
barely know, right?"
A cloud passed over the moon for a moment, making it
hard to see anything. Ron thought he saw Harry nod, though. He
decided that it would have to do, and plunged ahead. "And I just
kept thinking about who it should be, right? I mean, when Harry
Potter decides to kiss someone, especially when it's his first
kiss, that's got to be important. Not that I kissed you just
because you're famous, and all. But I was trying to figure out
whom a good person would be for you to kiss. To get you started
out and all that."
Now he couldn't stop talking, although he had the sinking
sensation he was prattling on about nonsense. "And I remembered
at the Yule Ball, when we went for a walk, and everyone was being
kicked out of the bushes by Snape. This would definitely be a
better place to have a first kiss than there. Out in the cold,
with all those prickly leaves and twigs, and Snape. Whose about
as prickly and cold and horribly icky as you can get, but that's
besides the point." He wrinkled his nose for a moment.
"Besides, if there's anyone you've embarrassed yourself in
front of, that's me, so you wouldn't have to be worried about
doing something wrong. And we've been friends forever, so you
know that I'm not going to kiss you just because you're... well,
you. I once kissed Hermione, too, so I've had some experience.
Although she did smack me and then proceed to put me into a Body
Bind, so I guess that's not the best of my qualifications. But
I thought that, all in all, I was a pretty good choice. Except
for that whole, not being a girl thing. Which I couldn't really
do anything about in the first place, so I kind of put that aside.
"So I'm really sorry if you're disgusted because I kissed you
or because you think I've wanted to get in your pants all this time-
which, I haven't, by the way. But I just kept thinking and thinking,
and all I could come up with was, 'Why not me?'"
Ron stopped himself, cutting off the torrent of words that
had been rushing from his mouth, a raging river of excuses. He took
a deep breath, willing everything that had remained unsaid to settle
back down. "I've been babbling, haven't I?" He tried to smile
self-deprecatingly, but felt that he was just baring his teeth at
Harry.
Harry nodded.
"Sorry about that." Ron stood, feeling evermore foolish.
"Well, since I've managed to ruin the best thing I had going for me
with one ill-placed kiss, I think it'd be best if I retreat back to
my own bed to lick my wounds." He held up a hand. "I'm not bitter,
really. But if you could just see yourself, Harry- well, you'd be
as shocked as the rest of us are that you've never been kissed
until now."
Ron turned to go, keeping his eyes anywhere but on Harry,
who was still watching him. Soon, he'd be safe in his own bed, and
he could pile comforter upon comforter over his body and try to warm
himself. He could cry there, too, and no one would ever know.
And when he finally exhausted himself and sleep blissfully came,
maybe there'd be some answer to the horrible mess into which one
kiss had gotten him.
"Ron."
Ron turned, half-hoping he had imagined that reedy, but
determined, voice. But there was no doubt in Harry's features that
he had called Ron's name. He ran a hand through his hair, and said,
"Yeah, Har'?"
Harry's mouth curved into a smile. "What, you're just
going to kiss me and run? That was how you thought my love life
should officially begin, Weasley?"
Ron, so loquacious only a minute ago, could not find any
words whatsoever. Instead, he let his legs answer by bringing him
back to the bedside, and let his eyes answer by never once leaving
Harry's face. They were the only parts of him that were able to
overcome the shock; the rest had stopped functioning altogether.
He wondered if this was what it was like to faint, wondered if the
next moment would find him unconscious, his torso on Harry's bed
and the rest of him slumped on the floor.
"Because that's not fair." Harry grabbed his hand, and
pulled down. Ron toppled onto Harry's bed in a rather unbecoming
fashion, his head landing mere inches from Harry's.
"If you're going to run, I've got to have a chain so that
I can pull you back to me," he whispered, as an arm snaked around
Ron's waist. "And I intend to start forging one right now."
And Ron, though he had been anxious to escape to his own bed,
found that sharing was much nicer than being alone.
-The End-