As with all my stories, I own nothing, I am simply putting my sick fantasies out into the universe. Rowling is the real genus and artist. I am but a humble fan.

Happy Birthday

"Ron…wake up, wake up", I whisper as quietly as I can while shaking his shoulder. Ron is almost completely buried under his bedclothes. His red hair, darker in the dim light of the room, is sticking stalk straight all over his head. "Ron please…I need you". Those were the magic words. I lurch to the side as Ron shoots upright missing my head by inches.

"What is it Harry? What's happened? Ron's voice is high pitched and panicky. His grip on my shoulder bruising.

"N-nothing Ron. I just need to talk to you. Nobodies hurt, nothing's wrong. Can we go downstairs?"

Ron immediately moves to get out of bed. His movements are slow and unsteady, on account of being woken out of a deep sleep. He's wearing loose flannel pants, no shirt. I get a quick glimpse of his pale wide chest, before he shrugs into a thick robe that when he cinches it, covers him from neck to ankle. He stumbles after me, our bare feet silent on the stone floor. Several minutes later we emerge in the common room. The fire is still in full blaze. The room is toasty and warm. I make a beeline to the big comfy sofa in front of the hearth. I sit down near the middle sinking deep into the plushy goodness. I've picked my spot carefully, now Ron has no choice but to sit near me. And near me he does. He plops down on my left. His added weight causes us to sink further into the sofa and sorta roll into each other. Our shoulders knock together and we both struggle to right ourselves. Now, sitting a few inches away we pivot our bodies toward each other. Ron's concern and anxiety is written all over his face.

"What is it Harry?"

I lunge at Ron, wrapping my arms around him. One arm tucked under his, the other arm thrown over his shoulder. I bury my face into his neck and hold on tight.

"Harry?!", Ron squeaks. His voice suddenly several octaves higher. His whole body locks up beneath mine. I can feel his heart beat frantically against my chest, his robe having been knocked open when I pounced upon him.

"Please Ron…please. I need this. Just hold me OK. Can't one mate comfort another? You're my BEST mate, come on…", I whisper urgently in his ear. I clutch tighter. I hold him tighter and wait. But, I don't have to wait long. After just a few seconds, I feel him shift. His back slowly goes from rigid to soft, arching into me. His stomach unlocks, softening, melding with mine. And, lastly, his arms hesitantly rise to wrap around me.

"It gonna be alright Harry. I'm here. Best mates right." His sincerity is like music to my ears.

I slowly, gently, ever so subtly lean us back into the back of the sofa. And, that's where we stay. Embracing each other fully, laying back on the couch. Completely confident that Ron will hold me for as long as I need him to. A true friend.

"I love you Ron", I whisper in his ear. I hold my breath and wait for his reply.

"Harry?!" Back to squeaking again.

"Ron…I love you"

"Umm…uhhh…Me too Harry." Still squeaking.

"Say it Ron, I need to hear the words."

"I don't know Harry? I'm starting to feel uncomfortable, man."

"Ron, damn it, don't sully this. We've saved each other's lives how many times? I'd die for you man, can't you say you love me?"

"Yeah. Sure? You're right. Ummm…I love you Harry?"

"Nope. Try again."

"I l-love you…Harry."

I pull away just far enough to give him a look that says, try harder.

Ron takes a huge breath. His chest expanding against mine. His breath blowing in my ear.

"I love you Harry. You're my best friend and I love you"

That was all I needed to hear.

I ponce on Ron once again but this time with my lips. I devour his mouth as he scrabbles to get away. I manage to remove his rob and partially de-pants him, before he falls to the floor in his rush to get away. He's on his back pulling up his pants, crab walking away from me. He's frantic and bordering on hysterical. It's adorable. I slide off the sofa to land on all fours. I've managed to lose everything but my pants as well. As I start to crawl toward him, Ron makes the sweetest whimper. I grab his ankle and start to slowly crawl up his body as Ron moans in horror, frantically shaking his head. He's quite attractive when he's terrified.

"W-what are you doing Harry?!" he stutters as I crawl up his lower legs.

"I'm getting comfort from a friend?" I state as I grasp his thighs firmly, causing him to jump two inches off the floor.

"Harry, I am not gay!", he says as I settle myself across his thighs sitting on his lap as he lays prone on the floor his hands on my wrists trying to prevent further contact.

I look at him puzzled. "I'm not gay either, Ron".

"I told you, I'm just looking for some comfort. Companionship. A shoulder to cry on. A handjob. Friendship, Ron, friendship."

"God, Harry. I'm sorry. I'm your friend. I'm here for you…wait? What! What did you say?! Did you say handjob?! Ron's face blushes deliciously.

"Yes, Ron, a handjob" I say with exasperation. Really, was he really this daft. "All I ask is a friendly handjob between friends. A hand job can be like a relaxing game of chess."

Ron lets out an hysterical bubble of laughter and offers me a game of chess. Silly boy.

"But, Ron, I don't want to play chess, I want my dick rubbed."

With that, Ron throws me off him and tries to make it to his feet. I grab his ankles and down he goes. We tussle on the floor for quite some time. We really work up a sweat. Since our weight and strengths are pretty much equal, and neither is willing to hurt the other, we can wrestle around forever. That is, until I decide to fight dirty.

"Petrificus Totalus" I shout as I pull out my wand. Ron's whole body goes stiff, his hands by his sides, locked outside my knees as I straddle him once again. I lean over his stiff chest to gaze into his eyes. He manages to look quite put out.

"Oh, Ron, don't be mad. It's just a little spell. We weren't making any progress you see."

"What's that Ron, I can't hear you?" I say as I wave my wand once more causing him to be able to move his head and speak.

"You…what the hell Harry, what the hell. Let me up! Let me UP!"

"Uuuummm…no."

I scootch my body down his, cradling my hips to his, our pelvic bones uncomfortably crushed together. I prop myself up on my elbows, pressed deep into his ribs. I settle my face into the cradle of my interlocked fingers and gaze down at his face. It's a lovely face. My tastes run to slender blondes but I can appreciate his charms. His round cherub face, decorated heavily with freckles. Every emotion a different shade of pink. His red hair, curling around his hairline due to the sweat he's worked up in our struggle. Yes, Ron is a lovely, lovely, boy. And, I will thoroughly enjoy blowing his clearly fragile mind.

Yeah…I'm gonna stop here. You see, I'm feeling very insecure about my writing. I was really proud of how many people have viewed my stories, until a friend pointed out that I only have three reviews. Only three people have given me any feedback. I know this kind of thing is frowned upon, you know, begging for validation, but, I'm desperate, do you like my writing, is it too dark, have I gone too far with beloved characters, should I keep my smut to my notebooks, should I keep writing, should I keep writing, should I keep writing? If I get just a FEW reviews, good or bad I'll finish this story and continue writing, if not, then clearly I'm too dark for this site, and I shall slink back to my cave. Time will tell.

p.s. I LOOOVVEEEE everyone that left me a review, all three of you. Much love.

Oh...and this is still a Malfoy/Voldermort story...it's quite clever really.