A/N: Ah. I'm back. Who's excited? I know I am! I don't know what came over me, but I got this sudden burst of energy to write this (though I've been all over myself to write Ugly Betty.)

I'm actually kind of proud of it.

Hope you love it. :)

Disclaimer: Still don't own rights to Harry. Nor to Ron. Though, if I did, it'd be totally awesome. :)


The Chair

It was midnight in London when Harry finally managed to remove himself from his seat at the head of the kitchen table. This was the same seat he had frequented all week; the seat that was usually reserved for another, very different, very special guest.

But, as this guest's visits had become less and less frequent as of late, Harry had decided it was only fair that he fill the void himself.

It started on a Monday when he first sat down in the seat he did not call his own, and, by the end of the week, it was ritual.

At six in the evening, like clockwork, he would take his seat, slowly eat his meal, read the paper and then he would simply sit there. No visitors. No talking. No nothing.

For hours, he stayed there, planted almost motionless in his chair, just staring at a spot on the wall or out his window into the city.

But, apparently, after a week of this, fate thought that Harry needed a change.

So, as he began the short walk to his bedroom, he was surprised when he heard a knock on the door.

Pausing, he turned to look in the direction of the noise.

Then, after another knock, he furrowed his brow as he began to walk towards it.

Upon reaching the door, he heaved a tired sigh before reluctantly opening it.

He was expecting to see Ginny, once again dressed all in blue (his favorite color), begging him to give her another chance.

Or he could've even believed Hermione had stopped by again to chastise him for not calling her back last Wednesday.

But he was definitely unprepared to see his actual visitor. The same visitor whose chair he had taken to sitting in.

The visitor he sorely missed and deeply loved.

"Ron?" he asked, his voice almost hoarse due to lack of use.

The redhead standing in front of him smiled - a big, warm, goofy grin before nodding. "Last time I checked."

It was obvious to Ron by the way Harry's pupils had dilated and the fact that his mouth was hanging open that he had definitely caught his best mate by surprise.

"I'm sorry it's so late," he said, shoving his hands in his jean pockets, which were old and worn – probably hand-me-downs from his older brother Charlie. "But I really needed to talk to you." He paused, looking up at Harry.

"Are you going to invite me in?" he asked, the smirk in his voice waking Harry up from his shocked daze.

"Sorry," Harry replied hurriedly. "Of course, come in." As he said this, he backed up, opening the door wide enough for Ron to enter.

"Thanks," Ron said, walking into the flat and looking around.

As he saw a familiar picture, he stopped and smiled - a soft, close lipped smile. "I remember that day," he said, walking over to pick it up.

Harry closed the door and walked in Ron's direction, looking at the picture over his friend's shoulder.

In the photo were the figures of Harry, Ron, and Hermione, pushing each other back and forth out of the line of sight.

It was taken the day of Bill's wedding after Harry had jokingly insisted that Hermione and Ron would be the next in line to hold a wedding at the Burrow. The two friends, who were embarrassed at the suggestion, then began a shoving match with their raven haired friend.

"You were wrong though," Ron said, putting the picture down and looking at Harry.

Harry returned Ron's blue eyed gaze, his brow furrowing once more, this time in confusion. "What are you talking about?" he asked. "You guys are getting married next month."

The red head chuckled before moving to sit on Harry's couch. "We were getting married," he corrected.

As he said this, Harry's green eyes got wide once again. "What happened?"

"Well," Ron began as Harry moved to sit on the couch with him.

"We'd been having these stupid fights for a while." He explained, making a face that showed how clearly disgusted he was about the particular brand of fighting. "About the bleeding flowers and what color the bridesmaid dresses should be."

He paused and looked over at his best mate. "You know how Hermione can be about things…"

Harry nodded. Since their first year at Hogwarts, it had been evident that Hermione was nothing if not the perfectionist.

"But, after a few hours, we'd always make up… in bed."

As Ron said this, Harry felt a twinge of jealousy.

Not jealousy of Ron because he was with Hermione.

In fact, it was quite the opposite actually.

He, Harry Potter, was jealous of Hermione-Bushyhaired!Knowitall-Granger because she was the one who shared a bed with Ronald-Amazingsmile!Gorgeoushair-Weasley.

It was only right that he feel jealous. After all, the sole purpose of the ritual was to distract Harry from the fact that Ron had chosen Hermione over him.

Though, on the whole, it was entirely counterproductive as all he did the whole time was think of was Ron.

Of course, Ron had not known (and didn't know now) that Harry was an option because Harry kept his feelings to himself – one of the only noble and selfless things he thought he'd ever done.

He had kept his desire for his best mate a secret since he first realized he had feelings for him during what should've been their seventh year at Hogwarts.

In fact, he could still remember every detail of the exact moment he realized. It was when Ron saved him from the lake and destroyed the locket horocrux. He was dripping wet, his face contorted with anger and determination, and he had never looked so beautiful to Harry.

But then, they had gone back to Hermione and the two had shared what Harry could only dub "a special moment." A moment so "special" that, when he thought back to it, he became extremely nauseous.

And every moment since then, Harry had hidden his true feelings, wishing only to see Ron happy – even if it was with Hermione.

So, once again mustering up the energy to be happy for his friends, he nodded, signaling for Ron to continue with his story, which he was sure would be successful in finally sending him spiraling into a pit of endless depression.

But, instead of elaborating on how they made up, Ron said something that surprised him.

"Until tonight."

-

The room was absolutely silent as Ron looked down at his shoes, letting his words sink in.

"What do you mean 'until tonight'?" Harry finally asked, looking across the couch at the red head, who seemed to be filled with surprises tonight.

The other man sighed. "I mean that tonight, when we went to make up, it didn't work."

Again, the silence enveloped them.

Harry had absolutely no idea what to say. Usually when they fought, they worked it out themselves and he just played witness to it. It was how it always was and how, until now, he thought it always would be.

"Surely you'll make up," he offered, patting Ron on the shoulder. "I mean, you're Hermione and Ron. Meant to be or whatever."

Ron chuckled, a deep rumbling sound as he looked up at Harry. "I don't think we will."

"Why?" Harry asked, genuinely curious at what finally succeeded in separating what Fred and George had coined 'Ronmione.'

"Well," Ron began, "It's a long story, but the last straw was probably when I said someone else's name at a very crucial moment."

Before he could stop himself, Harry began to snigger. Only his best mate would be dumb enough to say the wrong name during sex.

The red head rolled his eyes as he waited for his friend to get it out of his system. "You finished?"

"Well, whose name did you say?" Harry asked after his laughter had died down.

There was a pause as Ron's ears began to grow pink.

"Was it Lavender's?"

Ron shook his head, his shaggy hair moving as he did so.

"Luna?"

Again, Ron shook his head.

Racking his brain, Harry threw out a slew of names of their former female peers, each being shot down by Ron.

Finally giving up the guessing game, Harry decided to go another route. "What did Hermione say?"

"Before or after she threw her engagement ring at me?" Ron asked with a grin.

"Either."

"Well, she said she reckons since I said YOUR name when I was having sex with HER, I probably have some sort of subconscious desire to be with you."

If it had been physically possible, Harry's jaw would've hit the ground upon hearing this. After all, being with Ron was all he ever thought about – at work, when he was sleep, at dinner, after dinner, in the shower…

Attempting to pull it together, he swallowed hard, trying to calm himself though his heart continued to beat furiously against his ribcage. "And what did you say?"

Ron laughed once again, looking from Harry to his shoes once more. "I told her it was bollocks!"

Acting quickly, Harry masked his immense disappointment and laughed with Ron. "Good one, mate."

The red head looked up at Harry again. His face showed no traces of amusement, instead a different look was there. One that Harry knew very well, as he often wore it in private when he thought of the man in front of him.

"You don't understand, Harry," he began seriously, "I told her it was bollocks because it wasn't my subconscious that wanted you… It was all of me."

Before Harry could reply, Ron continued. "I've known it since fourth year, Harry. When I was the thing you'd miss the most. I knew."

He sighed and looked down at the couch in between them.

"It was, like, the most intense moment of clarity I'll probably ever experience in my life when I realized. But, Harry, you have to understand how confused I was. I was fourteen and these feelings were new, scary, and yet, so familiar. I didn't know what to do. So, instead of being the brave Gryffindor I was supposed to be, I clung to Hermione with everything I had. And I was successful in fooling everyone - even myself. Until tonight."

In the pause, Harry was sure his heart stopped. "What-," he began, but was cut off by Ron's soft lips covering his own.

"I love you, Harry," he whispered, his voice low and husky – just the way Harry had always imagined.

And, in that moment, Harry could think of nothing else but the chair.

Ron's chair; where the two of them would shortly be, as Harry made Ron scream his name once more.


What did you think? I hope you enjoyed it. It's the longest thing I've ever wrote in ONE sitting.

I might continue... I might not. It just depends on YOU! :)

Anyway, have a great day!

XOXO

MellyBrooke.