Chapter One: Confessions of the Night

Disclaimer: I DO NOT own any of the original Harry Potter characters. J.K. Rowling and her creative mind does!! (lucky)

GuyXGuy


A young black-haired male awoke with a start in the middle of the night. Sweat-drenched, he tip-toed out into the hallway and into the bathroom. He looked at his reflection in the mirror, his green eyes seeming brighter then normal against the dim lighting of the bathroom. The male turned on the faucet and let the water run until it got warm. After wiping off his face with a washcloth, he stared at his reflection again. The lighting-bolt shaped scar on his forehead caught his eye, the mark of his fame.

A knock came from the other side of the door, making the boy jump.

"Harry? Is that you?" came the voice of another male. Harry hastily opened the door, coming face to face with his best friend, Ron.

"Hey. What are you doing up so late?" Harry asked once he was out of the bathroom completely.

"I thought I heard you get up, I was just checking to see if anything was wrong. Guess not. Well, I'm going back to bed," he said, nervous like. He turned on his heel and made a start for his bedroom. Harry caught his shirtsleeve.

"What's wrong with you?" Harry asked wonderingly. Ron shook his head.

"Nothing," he answered, still sounding jittery. Harry knew something was wrong, the only time Ron got this way was when he was nervous about something. What could he be nervous about? Harry asked himself. The new term doesn't start for another month and a half.

"Ron, I know you too well to know that nothing's wrong. Come on, let's go downstairs," Harry said, leading the way, still holding on to Ron's sleeve, as if afraid if he let go Ron would run away. Harry took as seat on the couch and since Ron wasn't going to sit voluntarily, Harry jerked Ron's sleeve, hard, forcing Ron to sit down next to him. Ron let out an audible sigh of annoyance, he really wanted to be anywhere else but here.

"Harry. There's nothing wrong with me. I promise," he said, starting to sweat. Harry just stared at him.

"Ron, you're lying. Come on, you can tell me, I'm your best friend, you're supposed to be able to tell me anything," Harry said reassuringly, placing a hand on one of Ron's shaking shoulders. Ron didn't answer right away, just sat there, staring off into space. "Ron…what's wrong? Please tell me."

"…I can't," Ron stammered, finally. "You'll be freaked." Ron eyes widened and his body shuttered. Man, this is serious, Harry thought.

"Ron, I promise…I won't be mad. There's nothing you can possibly do to make me mad. I swear," Harry said, placing his hand on his friend's shoulder once again.

"Harry…trust me, you'll be mad." He answered, still staring into space. Harry sighed audibly, removed his hand and got up to go upstairs. Ron got his sleeve and pulled him back down to the couch.

"Harry, please listen to me. Ok? You'll be mad if I just come out and say this, so you have to give me some time to think of what to say, ok? I'll tell you, just…give me some time," Ron said with one long breath.

"Ok, Ron, that's all you had to tell me. Just tell me whatever it is when you feel like it's time," Harry said, getting up again to leave. "And I promise I won't be mad."

Harry went upstairs and in to the bedroom that him and Ron share, while Ron stayed downstairs. After about three hours of him staring into space, Ron went upstairs to get some sleep. He walked in the room to find Harry in a heap under the covers. Ron walked to Harry's bed and sat on the edge.

"The only reason I know you'll be freaked," Ron said in a whisper to his friend's lifeless form. "…is because I think I'm in love with you."

With that being said, he walked back over to his own bed and slipped under the covers and drifted off to sleep. But little did he know that his best friend lay, eyes wide and sweat dripping down his forehead.