Ron left the Burrow after breakfast and went to the clearing where he and his brothers played Quidditch growing up. It was just big enough for three or four boys on brooms to play a cramped game of Bludgerless Quidditch. Ron's mum always said to leave the Bludgers to the Professionals. Of course Fred and George, up to no good, become beaters at Hogwart's.

The clearing was fairly sunny and was lined with a combination of pines and oak. No muggles could see inside. He was wasting time until lunch. Ron lobbed his old Quaffle at the one make-shift hoop his father had fastened for him and his brothers. "Muggles play a game where a ball is thrown into a hoop!" He gestured extravagantly to the obviously doctored hoop. It seemed at though the hoop should have hung sideways, not straight up. It's suited them fine, though, all these years. Those muggles are really good inventors.

Ron was able to distract himself this way for an hour and a half before getting bored of Quidditch. He retired his broom and retreated to a log his brothers and himself had dragged under an overhanging pine branch. He opened a comic book and watched the protagonist, a Super-Hero fly through the frames fist first into the face of the villan. Ron's eyes drifted to the Side-kick flinging a fire ball at the deranged villan and he slammed the book shut.

Looking up at the sky, Ron decided he would amuse himself with making shapes out of the clouds and within minutes he was asleep against the log...

Ron awoke to Harry's voice, "Ron!"

Harry walked along the path from the town with his hands in his pocket's. He wandered aimlessly all morning, thinking over and over again. It was torturing him. Ron kissing him, touching him. His hands, his body. Harry shook his head. What was this all for? How was this supposed to work? He reached the Burrow's front door, which lead right into the kitchen. Lunch was making itself. Knives and bread hung in the air as the sandwitches assembled themselves.

Harry continued to think. He tried to rationalize again and went over it one more time. Ron had kissed him and touched his side. That was it! Nothing else happened. What else could happen? Harry thought back to his most recent romantic endeavors. All girls. Breasts, round and soft. They turn him on all right. But this was different. This was a passionate yearning. This led Harry to think what he was yearning for. Ron was obviously not a girl.

Harry shifted in his seat as he started to get a little hard from thinking about it. He crossed his arms on the table and layed his head down. He thought of Ron kissing him again, and shut his eyes tightly.

Stop stop stop! he thought at himself. He remembered the sudden wave of pleasure. He remembered the dizzyness he had experienced. He remembered how fast he had gotten hard. He remembered Ron's hard cock. He shivvered, as a new hymm was finally being sung. Ron's cock. What the hell was all this equating to?

He was suddenly thinking of Ron and could not stop what-so-ever. Ron was kissing him again, but this time, they were closer. He could feel the heat of Ron's body. He could feel his chest through their shirts. They were in a complete embrace. Harry felt Ron's tongue flick into his mouth. His own tongue immediately responding and slid against it slowly. He moaned into the kiss. Ron's hands travelled down his side exactly in the same way it had the night before, except this time, Ron's hand reached Harry's hip, where he pulled Harry closer. He gasped as he felt the hardness of Ron's erection grind against his own.

He near jumped out of his seat as he heard the Weasley door bell chiming loudly. He must have fallen asleep. "Harry?" Mrs Weasley's voice called out to him. Well, at least his wood was gone, now, "Hello, Mrs. Weasley!" he forced a smile. She sighed in relief, "Oh good, you and Ron have found the lunch..." Her face fell into a confused frown as she recognized Ron's absence. "Is Ron still in the clearing?" she asked, inquisitively, looking around the room expecting to see Ron.

"Must be!" Harry said quickly. "I'll go get him." And with that Harry took off out of the kitchen and headed toward the Clearing, where he knew Ron must be. He thought about his dream and found himself breathing rapidly, the distance between him and Ron was getting fewer by the second and he found he could not wait to see him. Ron must want this too, he thought to himself, Or he never would've done it in the first place. Harry walked faster as the pocket of forest came into view. He found Ron, sleeping there.

Harry stared at him. His eyes wandered from his shaggy red hair, to his mouth. He watched his chest rise and fall. His shirt was up slightly, exposing his stomach, and Harry could see Ron's freckly skin. Harry stared at Ron's pants, where he knew his cock was lying underneath. He was so damn hard to resist. Before he allowed himself to get hard, he said, loudly, "Ron!" Harry saw him sit up quickly. "You're mum wanted me to tell you lunch is ready." he said stiffly.

Ron stood up, leaving his broomstick. "Oh." He was a bit taller than Harry, who found his eyes quickly and stared into them. Harry had never really observed the details of he best friend so closely. His eyes were blue and his eyelashes were long. He watched, and realized, Ron's lips had a lot of color to them. So kissable, he dared to think. Harry allowed himself to look and Ron's mouth watered. Thinking of how his lips had been one those ones last night...

As Harry stared, he felt the same tension radiating off of Ron. "Harry..." Ron began, but did not continue. Harry shifted, his dick was starting to stiffen again. He thought about this dream and was screaming internally. It had gone too far, now. Harry felt a kind of sexual attraction to Ron he had never felt toward anyone. The reality of it was to much. "I... uh..." he tried, but was afraid of what he may say. They both had a silent understanding. For now, they just went back to the Burrow for lunch.

Ron sat up immediately, surprised, and saw Harry standing before him. He was staring down at him, hands in his pockets. His unkempt hair was hanging down on his forhead, intense green eyes fixated on Ron. Harry's scar was showing, which gave him a sort of intense presence. An aura that screamed, I am Harry Potter! Suddenly memories of the first night came flooding into his mind, and the yearning that had been absent all day returned, more intense than it had been before. His dreams flashed through his mind and cursed himself. As if last night had been some kind of cruel teaser. And here he was hoping things could all go back to normal now. That maybe they could put the whole thing behind them.

"Your mum wanted me to tell you lunch is ready." he coughed. He was looking at the ground. Ron stood up, leaving his broomstick. "Oh." he said. Harry looked up from the ground and locked eyes with Ron. His mouth was half open and he watched as Harry began to turn red in the face. "Harry..." Ron began, but could not finish. He could not explain himself. He did not know why this had happened to him. After being tortured for so long, he had just lost control of himself. Harry shifted a little, but didn't look away from Ron, who was feeling a little unerved by his friend's unwavering stare.

"I... uh..." Harry tried, but Ron knew it was pointless. There were no words for this right now. In silence they returned to the Burrow.