Harry listened closely to Ron's snores, satisfied that his redheaded friend was sound asleep. He needed secrecy and stealth for his current mission, and Ron, unfortunately, was rarely capable of either.

His mission: to take a peek at the small mountain of books in the Black Family Library that Mrs. Weasley had deemed "too dark" for anyone to read.

Harry had been going slowly stir crazy for the past few weeks. The rescue from his prison at Privet Dr. had resulted in yet another imprisonment at Grimmauld Place. He had left the house only to attend his farce of a trial, and Mrs. Weasley had kept him and the other kids busy with constant cleaning at all other times.

It was the matronly woman's insistence that he was forbidden to look at certain books, however, that truly annoyed him. Since the resurrection of Voldemort, he had become acutely aware that he was a marked man. He needed to know how to defend himself, and he would no longer tolerate mollycoddling.

If there was something in those 'dark' books which might save his life someday soon, he didn't see the harm in reading them. They were only books, after all.

So tonight he would execute his plan.

It was a simple one, really, but it required stealth. The plan was to don his invisibility cloak and sneak down to the library in the dead of night. The books set aside as improper were still in a huge pile in the corner of the room, and he thought he might be able to rescue the most useful of them.

Harry glanced outside the lone window of the bedroom he shared with Ron. It was pitch black. He wasn't sure what time it was, but he guessed that it was after 1 AM. Everyone in the house should be sound asleep.

Stepping carefully out of bed, he tiptoed to his trunk and opened it. Its hinges groaned softly, and he winced and looked in Ron's direction. Ron snored on obliviously, and he breathed a relieved sigh.

He removed his father's cloak and wrapped it around himself, disappearing instantly. Taking a deep breath and willing himself to relax, he slowly crept out of the room and down the stairs towards the bathroom, then towards the library.

Not a soul was stirring, and Harry descended slowly in the darkness so that he didn't fall.

Thankfully he didn't have to pass directly in front of Mrs. Black's portrait when he reached the ground floor. Nevertheless, he held his breath as he finally reached the library door and gently pushed down on its serpentine handle.

It was locked.

Shit, Harry muttered in his head, wondering if the adults had suspected just such a clandestine foray. He pulled out his wand and aimed it at the doors, whispering a quick unlocking spell.

Nothing happened.

Harry frowned in irritation and jabbed his wand at the door again. The handle seemed to budge ever so slightly, but it remained locked.

Third time's the charm, he thought to himself, and jabbed his wand at the door with as much power as he could muster.

There was the faintest of clicks, and he smiled to himself underneath the cloak. Knowing that this door creaked, he cast a quick silencing spell on its hinges and then gently eased it open.

He stopped the door's motion in surprise when he noticed that the room was already illuminated by weak candle light.

What the hell?

Deciding to at least investigate before he abandoned his plan, he maneuvered his invisible head around the cracked door and peered into the room. Only two candles were lit, casting dark shadows everywhere and imbuing the room with a faintly sinister aura.

There was enough light, however, that he could make out the back of a head of red hair.

Harry smirked and shook his head. He had not expected his unbookish best friend to be in the library in the middle of the night. The allure of unread rule braking was simply too strong for him to resist.

He was seated in an ancient red-velvet love seat, his back to him and his face staring down at a book. He had not noticed Harry's entry.

Maybe I could convince him to help me go through the forbidden books, he mused, and then smiled wickedly. It wouldn't hurt to give him a little fright first, though.

He stepped into the library and closed the door silently behind him. Careful not to make any noise, he crept around the love seat until he was facing Ron, ready to whip off his cloak and give him the scare of his life. It didn't occur to him that making him scream might wake the rest of the house.

He paused for a moment to observe him.

He was sitting Indian-style in the love seat, wearing nothing but a pair of briefs and a thin blue t-shirt. His robes were lying haphazardly across the back of the seat. In his lap was a large tome, opened to a moving picture that he stared at intently.

His curiosity roused, Harry stepped closer and looked down at the book. His mouth fell open in surprise, and he nearly gave his presence away.

The picture covered two facing pages, and showed tow men, both naked, playing with each others cocks.

Ron was gay. There was no other way to explain it. Two nude bodies filled the page. Harry stared at the picture in shock, unable to believe that Ron of all people was reading such a book.

Then Ron reached down, and grabbed his crotch, which was getting hard.

Harry's eyes nearly popped out of his skull.

Ho-ly shit, he whispered to himself, hardly daring to believe what he was witnessing. His breath caught in his throat, and he unconsciously held it as he watched Ron gently squeeze his crotch and rub it with his hand.

He pulled off his light blue t-shirt, which was worn and thin, and unknowingly showed Harry his bare chest.

Harry was secretly gay, and was enjoying this silently. Harry's cock suddenly sprang to life, throbbing against his briefs and growing harder than it had ever been in his life.

He had always thought of Ron as very straight. He seemed to enjoy looking at the girly books that Harry had found in his attic room at the Burrow.

So he watched in disbelief as he treated him to the most erotic display he had ever personally witnessed.

He continued holding his breath as Ron gently kneaded is own crotch, his eyes still riveted to the action on the page. His breath seemed shallow, and he had never seen such a look of deep concentration on his face.

A moment later he raised his head, and then swiveled around to look at the closed doors from which he had entered. Harry's heart stopped; he was suddenly terrified that he had been discovered. He knew that he shouldn't be watching Ron like this, but neither did he want to reveal himself now. He would be irate that he had seen as much as he had.

He turned back around; apparently satisfied that he was still alone in the room. Harry watched in breathless anticipation as he pushed the book onto his knees, exposing more of the blue briefs.

He almost gasped aloud when he realized what he was about to do.

Bloody fucking hell! He shouted in his mind, knowing he should look away but finding himself unable to do so.

Ron reached a hand into the front of his briefs and fumbled for a moment. Then he began moving rhythmically within them, staring continuously at the moving pictures as he worked.

Harry watched, utterly enraptured, as he touched himself. He was careful not to make a single movement or sound, worried that he would give his presence away. His cock was so hard that it felt as if an ejaculation might be imminent, but he dare not move to adjust or relieve himself.

A moment later Ron's working hand stilled, and he removed it from his underwear and sniffed his fingers. Harry almost whimpered at the sight.

She took another look round at the closed doors, then sat up and slid the briefs down his legs, placing them neatly on the seat next to him when he was finished.

He moved the thick book onto the seat and turned his head so that he could continue staring at it. Then, to Harry's astonishment and delight, he spread his legs wide, exposing his most intimate parts to him.

Oh, I'm going to hell for this, he thought miserably, but continued watching in wonder. There was no longer any doubt about it: his best friend was gloriously male.

His cock was topped by a light red triangle of hair that was sparse at the top, thick in the center, and grew progressively curlier as it descended to surround his penis and balls. It had been trimmed neatly on the sides.

He gripped hard onto his penis began rubbing his hand up and down his hard penis that protruded slightly from his curls. The movement made Harry cum a little in his briefs.

Merlin, I can't take this, he moaned to himself, his cock straining against his briefs and his abdomen tight with a feeling of desperate need that he had never experienced before.

Ron's breathing became deeper, his eyes still locked on the two men within the book. Ron began slipping his hand up and down hi penis, that was getting tenser by the minute. Ron then let go of his penis and rolled over, and startedto dry-hump the love-seat.

Then everything went pear-shaped.

Ron made a soft moan, and Harry accidentally exhaled at the erotic little sound. He was standing not three feet from him, and he heard it.

Ron rolled over, and his eyes suddenly shot upward, boring straight through the space Harry occupied.

Oh, shit! He thought in panic, and unconsciously took a step backward. The slight rustling sound made by his cloak was even more audible than his exhalation.

Ron wheeled to his right and grabbed his wand from the seat, then pointed it shakily at the space in front of him, a look of stark terror on her face.

"W-who's there?" he whispered fearfully, the wand shaking in his hand as he pointed it almost directly at him.

Harry held his breath and desperately hoped that Ron didn't cast a spell at him. Maybe if he remained stock still, he would think he was just being paranoid.

Ron's eyes roved wildly around the room, his breathing heavy and panicked. His wand hand was trembling, but he nevertheless began moving it in a circular motion.

"Home—homenum rev—," he stuttered, and Harry nearly swore aloud as he began the spell. He had no choice now; Ron was going to discover him.

"Wait, Ron."

He flinched back in shock at the sound of a voice, his spell interrupted. He closed his legs sharply and stared into the space from where the voice had originated, his penis no longer erect.

Harry sighed and pulled the cloak off his body, now standing before him shamefaced.

"Harry?" he shrieked loudly, and put his free hand between his legs in an attempt to cover his penis. "What—."

"Shhhh!" he admonished and stepped closer to him "Quiet, Rom. You'll wake the whole house."

Ron squeaked as Harry approached and Ron grabbed his briefs from the love seat, sending his book sprawling to the floor. He ran hurriedly behind the seat and bent over to put them back on.

When he returned to the front, he had a look of such fury on his face that Harry was genuinely scared.

"Harry Potter—," he hissed, resembling nothing so much as Professor McGonagall the day Harry was introduced to Oliver Wood in his first Year.

"Wait, let me explain, Ron," Harry said hurriedly, desperate to make him understand. "I just—."

THUMP.

He was unable to finish his sentence. Ron had stepped forward and kicked his shin with all her might, leaving an angry red mark on his leg.

His peed his pants alittle, his eyes watering, and he focused again just in time to receive another.

THUMP.

Ron's second kick felt like it lit his leg on fire, and he stumbled backwards and gripped his burning leg in his hand. His eyes filled with tears from the sharpness of the blow. He held his other hand before him in an attempt to fend off the incensed wizard. He was grateful, at least, that he wasn't pointing his wand at him.

When he finally blinked and regained his focus, the expression he saw on his face nearly broke his heart. Ron's eyes were alight with fury, but his face was contorted in an ugly grimace of shame and embarrassment. His cheeks were beet red and huge tears had begun welling up in his eyes.

"Harry, how could you?"

"Ron, wait, please. Let me explain."

"You were spying on me!" he choked out in disbelief, tears now falling freely down his face.

"No! I swear I wasn't…I mean—I didn't plan to. It was an accident."

"An accident," he spat derisively. "You accidentally came downstairs in your invisibility cloak, right now, and watched while I…"

He shook his head disbelievingly, and then looked at him with such genuine hurt that real tears began welling up in Harry's eyes.

"Please, Ron! It's not what it looks like! I'm sorry, I really am. I didn't come down here to spy on you; I swear on my magic that it was an accident."

Ron's jaw clenched and unclenched several times as he stared at Harry, turning over his words in his mind.

"Why were you here then?"

"Those," Harry said in desperation, turning and pointing to the pile of discarded dark books in the corner of the room. "I wanted to read some of them. I thought…I thought there might be something in them to help me defend myself, but Mrs. Weasley wouldn't let me near them during the day. I just came down to read, I swear it."

Ron considered his words in silence.

"And yet you spied on me under your cloak."

Harry sighed and looked down in shame.

"I was going to surprise you when I saw you were here; give you a fright," he said miserably. "But then I saw what you were doing. You were reading that…that book, and…"

"And?"

"And you started touching yourself," Harry nearly whispered, "and I was, erm, surprised. I know I should have stopped, or—or left, or something. I tried, but I just couldn't….and it was too late to let you know I was there."

"But you kept watching!" he retorted, his voice thick with emotion. "You just let me humiliate myself in front of you. Why didn't you at least look away?"

"I—I tried," Harry pleaded. "I know I shouldn't have watched, but I just…I've…I've never seen anything like that, and it…it was beautiful."

He winced as the words left his mouth, fully aware of how absurd they sounded.

Ron continued glaring at him in silence, his tense breathing the only sound in the room. Harry looked at the floor in misery, his heart in his throat as he realized he might have just destroyed a friendship.

"Beautiful," Ron repeated doubtfully after a moment.

Harry met his eyes abashedly.

"Er, yeah."

When he didn't respond, he continued falteringly, hoping to somehow find the words that would redeem him.

"I'd never imagined you doing…something like that…and you were enjoying yourself so much, and I…I couldn't look away. Please don't hate me, Ron. Please."

He stared at him stoically, his face starting to return to its normal color and his eyes beginning to dry.

"You really did it on accident. You didn't come down here to spy on me."

Harry took heart from the fact that it sounded more like a statement than a question.

"Yes. No. I mean, I would never do something like that to you; I swear it. Please, Ron, you have to forgive me."

He sighed and shook his head, staring at the ground.

"You still saw me doing…that. You can't unsee it, Harry."

"Do you want to obliviate me? I'll let you; really."

Ron snorted and shook his head, but still did not meet his eyes. "Harry…that's a stupid idea. I can't obliviate for shit."

"Then I just won't tell anyone; I promise. It will be just like before. We'll forget it ever happened."

Ron exhaled a huge breath and looked beyond him to the small mountain of dark books at the root of this disaster.

"Go on and do your reading," Ron said evenly. "I'm going to bed. I want to think about this before we talk again."

He turned and picked up his robes from the love seat, then retrieved his book and shirt from the floor. Ron strode to the library doors without looking in his direction again.

"Ron."

His hand paused as it reached for the door handle.

"I…please," Harry whispered desperately.

He listened a moment longer, then opened the door and stepped out into the darkness.