3 chapters, 3 reviews... pattern... who knows... probably a slightly raised rating... but not enough to make it mature...

With Ron sitting with him now (still on Harry's bed, still on Harry's bed!), a bottle of half empty fire whiskey between them, it was becoming increasingly difficult to remember exactly why he found the whole situation strange. Why he was so determined to deny that Ron's hair was so touchable, or that his freckles were so traceable, or that his lips were so…? Oh wait, he remembered. Because having lustful thoughts for your best, straight, male friend, was not a good thing.

But Ron was talking, so Harry tried to focus on what he was saying, and not just the way his lips were forming the words.

"I've got it all figured out mate," Ron, slumped with his back to the window he had come through, the bottle of fire whiskey now clutched in his flourishing fist, smiled goofily at Harry over the wrinkled expanse of his scrunched up chest.

"Uh huh," said Harry, smiling too, as he grabbed the bottle from Ron's hand, and deciding the other boy had had too much, took a swig of his own. The motion almost sent him toppling over the edge of the bed, and Ron caught him, laughing and shushing him, and stealing the bottle. Harry pouted, but it wasn't because Ron had moved his hand from it's place on his arm.

"You see." Ron seemed dead set on explaining his epiphany, he had sat up more, leaning closer and looking Harry dead in the eye, in a very serious manner that was slightly ruined by the fact he couldn't seem to focus on him and kept blinking. "We're going to be aurors." Since this was indeed the plan they had agreed on, Harry only nodded, and leaned closer to Ron. Their knees were touching in a very distracting way. Ron seemed to notice this, because he looked down and frowned before continuing. "I'm going to marry Hermione." Since Harry really didn't want to be the one to break it to him about Hermione and Krum, all he did was nod and lean in closer, now distracted by the way their elbows, both resting on their respective knees, were so close. "And you're going to marry Ginny!" Harry was almost so distracted by the way Ron's face was so close to his, that he didn't register this part. He was, indeed, halfway through the lean stage before he registered, and rearing back with a startled, "Huh?" almost knocked Ron off the bed.

Ron didn't seem to mind, indeed this part of his master plan seemed to have him particularly excited, judging by the way his eyes lit and he leaned even farther forward. "Yeah! You're going to marry Ginny, and then we'd be just like… like… brothers!" he exclaimed the last bit, arms thrown wide, precariously close to Harry's face.

Harry just sat looking at him, a faint frown on his face. "Why would I do that?"

Ron looked suddenly hurt. "You mean you don't want to be my brother?" He withdrew, clumsily scooting toward the other end of the bed, and Harry felt suddenly very bereft.

"Of course I do!" Harry tried to clasp Ron's hands, but missed, falling a little bit forward so Ron had to catch him., one fire whiskey laden arm wrapping around Harry's middle. And spreading fire through Harry that had nothing to do with the drink. They were hugging, but Harry ignored it, his hoarse and muffled words sounding from Ron's sweater. "You're my best mate!"

Ron seemed to be sniffling now. "Good. Then you'll marry Ginny?"

Harry sighed. It was really hard to focus on Ginny when Ron was … wait, what was Ron doing with his hand? Whatever it was, it was making little Harry very happy, and pressed this close to Ron, that was not a good thing. Harry started to shift back as he spoke, but Ron seemed to have too many arms, and all of them were pressing Harry and his problem into Ron. "Ron… I don't think…" pushed one arm off, another appeared. "That I feel that way about…" was that a leg? "Ginny!"

Harry was still trying to disentangle himself from Ron when Ron let him go, and he fell backwards, hitting his head on the headboard. "Sorry mate!" Ron grinned. Then he frowned. "Why wouldn't you like Ginny?" this obviously hadn't occurred to him, because he sat for a minute, chin in hand thinking, while Harry was valiantly trying to sit up from his position, legs tucked under him, and back flat to the bed, while not revealing the…, the…, okay, his hard on.

"I mean…" Harry finally managed to free one leg. Ron didn't seem to notice his predicament. "She's just like me, I suppose. Only with… with… TITS!" Ron suddenly shot up, smiling happily, just as Harry freed his other leg, which shot out and on its way down, hit Ron in the back of the head. His balance already precarious, Ron fell face forward, into Harry's lap, with Harry's leg wrapped behind his head.

Ron quite suddenly found his face buried in Harry's Crotch. With his lips practically wrapped around Harry's Penis. He wondered if Harry had been hard before Ron went face first into his lap. Either way, he didn't particularly blame Harry. After all they were teenage boys. They got random hard on's at the damndest times. Right now for instance, Ron couldn't explain his. Probably something to do with the way the blankets were rubbing him, and nothing to do with the boy practically writhing under him.

Which begs the question, why was Harry writhing? Not because his friends face was in his lap. In fact, at exactly the moment Ron took his tumble, the clock on Harry's bedside had hit 12:00. At that exact moment, two people, dressed in black and carrying broomsticks, had slammed open the door to Harry's room, and been met with a sight that left one snickering, and the other wishing his wandering eye would redirect itself to another part of the room.

Ron, seeing this, felt the need to explain. "We're not gay,". However, the words came out a bit more like "Mmmph, Mmmph, Mmmph." Which caused Harry to writhe some more, and scream, "Get your head out of my crotch!" Which caused the pink haired girl to go into convulsions, and Mad-eye Moody to turn around, and do something he hadn't been seen to do in years. Blush.

Unfortunately for him, he can see through the back of his head.

Ron of course, tried to answer Harry's plea. "Mmmph, Mmmph, Mmmph," which translated, of course, to "Get your bloody leg out of my way and I could!"

Harry, arching of the bed, screamed in reply, "Stop talking!" to which the pink haired girl replied, "Kinky," before collapsing to the floor with laughter.

A half hour later, the boys stood, dripping wet and hard-on free, and not looking at each other, in the kitchen of the privet drive house. Remus Lupin had arrived a few minutes into the struggle, and with a roll of his eyes at the two figures in the doorway, had drenched the two on the bed, causing them to roll off said bed with matching howls (thought Ron's was still muffled in Harry.) and eventually right themselves. They hadn't looked at each other since.

To make matters worse, Tonks, ( the pink haired animorphugus pervert), had tripped on Ron's broom standing up after her laughing fit, and had then presented him with the splintered remains. So, as Lupin said, Ron would have to share a broom with Harry.

"You are the two lightest, " said Lupin.

"Shouldn't be much of a hassle," snickered Tonks.

"It's your won bloody fault for sneaking here in the middle of the night to get up to… whatever you were getting up to!" blushed Mad-Eye.

"We're not gay!" shouted Harry and Ron.

Their non-homosexuality aside, they found themselves seated on Harry's firebolt without much hassle a few minutes later.

"After all, you always want to ride my firebolt anyway…" said Harry, then blushed. Even Lupin snickered this time.

"Okay, people, this ride will be long and hard…" (at this point many people had to remount their brooms, as they had fallen off in fits of laughter…) "and will likely last all night long…" Someone, probably Tonks, snickered "That's what he said," "So try not to fall asleep!"

"Have that problem often Moody?" as the person who said this couldn't not be identified, Mad-Eye was forced to ignore it.

"Constant Vigilance!" He yelled instead, and they rose into the air.

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