A/N: My first Harry / Ron slash open to the general public: I'm starting this saga with a new view on a classic scene.
Disclaimer: I obviously do not own Ron Weasley, Harry Potter, or any characters associated with the storyline. That is owned by the wonderfully talented JKR. But if I DID own them, I wouldn't complain.
This story at points quotes JK Rowling's dialogue. I recognize that it is not my own. Kthnx.
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Two beds away, Dean's clock blinked 3:46 – 3:46 . What a stupid idea, Ron thought as he stared out the slightly open hangings surrounding his four-poster bed. A clock powered by lightning to wake you up, honestly. Ron oftentimes found himself woken up from a dream in a cold sweat without any sort of sound…
He sighed as he vaguely noticed that the moon was full. Wondering if Lupin was howling somewhere, he wondered how the Order was doing. He had been growing farther away from his mother, as had all the Weasley children.
"Just getting older and growing up, Molly!" Ron's father had told her as Ron watched his mother silently empty a bottle of firewhiskey. The only thing she can always cling to… Through all her uncertainty, her husband had been so supportive, while Ron sat by, the worst damn son in the worl-
A sudden jerk somewhere to his left ended his thoughts. Harry…
He had ended the day with a simple "'Night," feeling that so much more needed to be said. He wanted to tell Harry how he stared at the roof of his four-poster every night, longing for the curtain between them to fall. How he spent his classes staring out the window, dreaming of a world where they could be… could be something. Ron had known from their 2 nd year, when Harry saved Ginny from such a horrid fate… He was in love with Harry Potter. My God, how cliché was that…
How many nights HAD he spent, staring above, fantasizing about what could be someday, resisting the urge to substitute Harry with his hand? But no, he couldn't the embarrassment to be found by one of his roommates muttering Harry's name, and his eyes fluttering back in a self-produced-
Another groan from the side. Harry had come back from the DA meeting saying that he had kissed Cho. What a dirty little bitch! Stealing his man, Harry was his! That godawful little Asian slut. First she kisses Cedric, he snuffs off and then kisses Harry! What kind of fucking lunatic DOES that? The unfairness of it all made his face burn.
And then Hermione goes roaring on about Krum with that little sly smile, knowing full well that before Harry came in, they had said strictly to not bring it up. That 'Mione, to smart for her own damn good. She paraded about, pretending to be secretive about Krum, but really revealing more than what happened. Krum had merely been hiding behind Hermione with his own sexual insecurity, just as Ron was now…
And people wonder why I don't like girls.
Harry groaned again. His noises were becoming more agitated, furious and frequent. What was he dreaming about? Ron found himself wondering. Was he thinking of Ron? He felt a sudden jolt of happiness. Was Harry perhaps feeling the same way Ron did, wanting desperately to touch him, feel him, taste him…?
He heard a thrash. Harry, in the course of his dream, had flung out his arm. Ron looked over, pulling Harry's curtain aside slightly. His skin was horribly pale, his eyelids fluttering as he twitched slightly. Even in this frantic, insane state, he was dead sexy…
Suddenly, Harry thrashed more violently. His feet jutted forward and at odd angles. Harry's pajama pants constricted his legs so Ron could see his thin muscular frame. He stood up to get a better view of his best friend.
He's always been so lean…
Damn it Ron! Now is not the time! Wake him up! He's in pain!
But if only I could take off the pants, he would calm down…
NO! You idiot! But even then, Ron felt a curious sensation slightly below his stomach. Standing above the now thrashing Harry, he stuck his right hand slowly in his pants.
"Harry…" he muttered as his hands grasped his groin. "Harry… Harry…."
Ron began to stroke himself, his legs growing weaker as he stood. He was growing louder with every utter of his name.
"Oh Harry… Harry! HARRY!"
Suddenly, Harry's eyes shot open. Shit. Ron frantically pulled his hands out of his pants. When did the left-
He realized Harry was paler than he thought, and his bright green eyes stared up at him, He was scared stiff at whether Harry had seen him or not. If he had, it was over, there was no chance of the two ever being near each other again. He would go on the run! That was it! He and Hermione could run somewhere, become traveling actors, it all made sense…
"He's really ill. Should we call someone?" said a sudden voice behind him. Ron was suddenly snapped out of his thoughts. Damn it. Me and my unachievable dreams. Neville, who had grown quite a bit taller over the year, looked Ron in the eye fearfully. Harry saw, again, how sick and horrid Harry was looking
"Harry! Harry!"
"Your dad…" his voice, even in fear, blocked slightly by his frantic breathing, was like an angels.. "Your dad's… been attacked…"
"What?" Ron was suddenly burst from his thoughts. Harry had not known at all… he hadn't seen Ron standing above him as he thrashed around. But what was this about his father?
In his relief that Harry had not caught him, he only heard Harry muttering "Dad…. Bitten… blood…"
"I'm going for help" said Neville behind him.
Good. Go… Leave me here.
"Dreaming. You.. You were just dreaming…" of the wrong thing. Harry should be dreaming of Ron, damn it. Not his father.
Harry insisted it was not a dream. Ron didn't take much in. It had to have been a dream.
McGonagall arrived soon. Suddenly, after keeping Harry in his bed for God-knows how long. Harry called over McGonagall.
He was still insisting about this nighttime vision. It's just a dream, Harry, come off it. Dreams don't always come true…
But suddenly, McGonagall said "Put on a dressing gown. We're going to see the Headmaster."
Now all of Ron's chances at a lonely night in his bed were dashed. Always making a big deal, Harry was. Beautiful, but always playing the hero. Disgruntled, he followed.
Even in this horrid situation, Ron could hardly help but notice how perfectly Harry's nightclothes fit him, while they rushed through the corridors. Perfect figure, perfect personality, just perfection in one little legendary boy. How many times had they walked these together, Ron resisting to take Harry and kiss him with everything he had… and here they were now, off for some stupid dream…
But then again, there had been a flicker of certainty within his eyes…
No. It was just a dream…
But as they entered Dumbledore's office, Ron couldn't help but think. Come on Harry, It was just a dream… maybe your dreams come true. Mine never do.
Ende.
Look for updates coming soon!