Chapter Twenty-One: A New Love

"I already told you what hap–"

Ron reached forward, snatching the wand out of the waistband of Harry's shorts. He held it in his open palm and thrust it at Harry.

"Take it," he urged. "Harry, take it!"

There was a soft knock on the door and Hermione's voice followed. "Ron – Harry, is everything all right?"

"We're fine, Hermione," Ron said firmly. "Go back to sleep."

"You're not arguing are you?"

"Go back to bed, Hermione - please!" Ron shouted and waited until he heard the door to her bedroom close. "Have I ever asked you for anything?"

"What?" Harry asked, meeting Ron's eyes for the first time since they entered the room.

"Have I ever asked you for anything, Harry? Ever?"

Lowering his eyes to look at his bare feet, Harry shook his head.

Ron sighed, simply tired from it all. There was a kaleidoscope of memories floating around in his head, bumping into each other, but never bonding together to create a chain of events that would finally lead to an ending. It was like a book with blank pages scattered randomly throughout and he was sure that Harry held the missing scenes.

"Take the wand," he said, his tone less demanding this time and more pleading.

Looking at it as if it might bite, Harry took the wand and let his hand fall to his side, the wand pointing towards the ground.

"Your head," Ron said, poking the side of his own. "Your memories are in your head, not your feet."

"I know that!" Harry snapped back. Stepping forward, his face wearing a blank expression and his eyes fixed in front of him, he put the wand to his temple and extracted a wisp of a silver strand from his head. He placed it in the basin and stepped back.

Ron approached the Pensieve, sensing Harry's eyes boring into his back. He leaned his face forward toward the memory swirling around like a piece of a broken cloud, expecting Harry to attempt to stop him. He didn't and Ron fell through the chilly blackness, holding his breath, until he was standing in Harry's memory.

The sun had almost set in the grey winter sky visible through the large double glass doors leading to the garden. The growing darkness made it difficult to see in the room. Suddenly the fireplace and the oil lamps lit and light blazed through the room. Ron saw Harry standing in the doorway. He dropped his suitcase, threw his rucksack on the table, and began searching for something in a drawer, pulling out take-away menus and store receipts that should've been tossed in the rubbish bin long ago and throwing them on the counter in obvious frustration.

The frantic search ceased; Harry found what he was looking for. He smiled slightly as he held it in his hand.

Ron spun around, startled by a voice, and saw himself standing in the doorway, wearing his Auror robes.

"Oy, mate."

Harry jerked in surprise and dropped the item in his hand. It fluttered to the floor.

Ron stepped forward before Harry and picked it up. It was a newspaper clipping of a picture of Harry and him at the Quidditch World Cup in 2002 moments after England's Seeker had captured the Snitch. Caught up in the moment, Harry and Ron had excitedly embraced each other. The gesture had been captured by a reporter and the next day was included in a montage of images under the headline, 'Fans Celebrate England's Victory!'

"Why were you looking for this?" Ron asked.

Harry's face turned pale. "No reason." He turned and began shoving everything back in the drawers.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Harry replied stiffly.

"No, you're not," Ron said, putting the photo on the table next to Harry's rucksack. Ron hesitated, staring at it for a moment. "What's going on, Harry?"

"Why'd you come home?" Harry asked irritably. He'd finished putting everything away and was now stuffing the picture into his rucksack.

"You said that you were sick." Ron looked around the room. He froze when his eyes landed on the suitcase. "What's that?"

"What does it look? It's a suitcase."

"I know it's a suitcase! What's it doing here?"

Harry zipped up his rucksack. "I'm feeling much better, Ron. You can go back to work now."

Ron stepped closer and griped Harry's wrist. "Come off it, Harry. Something's going on."

"I need to go away for a while," Harry said quietly. "Don't ask any questions. It's just something I –"

"You what?" Ron let go of Harry and stepped back. "What do you mean - you're leaving?"

"I'll come back as soon as I can." Harry's lips quivered slightly. "I promise."

The scene suddenly ended and Ron felt himself soaring upward. Harry sat on the bed, his hands gripping his kneecaps.

"All of it, Harry," Ron said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"That was all of it."

"I'll get Veritaserum from the Ministry and slip it to you when you least expect it – I swear, I bloody will!"

Harry studied his face for a moment, looking for signs that Ron was joking. Eventually he stood and put the remainder of the memory in the basin.

"Thank you," Ron said sarcastically and dove back into the Pensieve.

Harry picked up the rucksack and Ron ripped it from his hands. "You're not going anywhere!"

"Ron, don't…"

"Don't what? Have you finally gone mad, Potter?"

Harry reached for the bag, but Ron pulled it back and upwards out of his reach. "This isn't time for games! This is serious!"

"What's serious?"

Harry sighed and ran his hands through his hair. "There's a problem at the Ministry. It's too dangerous for me to stay here."

"Dangerous for who?"

"Me – you – Hermione… your family too, I reckon."

Ron's face filled with panic and he dropped the bag to his side. This time Harry didn't reach for it. "Why… fuck – what's going on?"

"I can't tell you." Ron opened his mouth, but Harry kept talking. "Trust me, Ron. Please, trust me. It's better if you don't know."

Too stunned to move, Ron let Harry take his bag out of his hand, but as Harry began to walk away, he snapped out of the daze. He reached out, grabbed Harry's shoulders, and spun him around.

"Whatever's going on – let me help you."

Harry looked at the floor and shook his head. "I can't let you. The Minster – other people they – they've done things that I know about and they'll stop at nothing to keep it a secret. I can't risk –"

"You're not leaving," Ron said firmly. "We'll fight them together. We've been together through worse. Hermione will help. We helped you defeat –"

"It's not the same thing." Harry stepped back away from Ron's hand. "This is worse than Voldemort."

"How can anything be worse than him?"

"If Voldemort walked into a room, everyone knew to raise their wands. Scrimgeour and his friends are powerful. People believe and trust them. They could…" Harry raised his eyes that were filled with panic. "They could kill any one of you and no one would believe me that it was them."

Ron's face was now as pale as Harry's. "What could you know that's so important for them to keep a secret?"

"I won't tell you," said Harry, shaking his head. "I have to protect you. I'll do whatever I have to do and if that means leaving…"

"I won't let you leave!" Ron said. He looked pale, panic-stricken.

"I'm going, Ron. There's nothing you can do to stop me."

Harry threw his rucksack on his shoulder and turned. His hand reached for his suitcase and Ron blurted out. "Let me go with you!"

"I can't ask you to do that," he whispered.

"You didn't ask. I offered. You're off your trolley, Harry, if you think I'm going to let you go this alone. I'll go with you and we'll figure out how to get you out of this mess - together."

Harry turned around. "You don't even know…" His face scrunched up and he took a long deep breath, steadying his emotions. "I can't let you leave your family."

"It won't be permanent, right? Just until we work it out." Ron walked forward and when he was within an arms reach of Harry, he grabbed him and pulled him into a hug. "I can't let you leave."

"Ron," Harry gasped softly.

Ron squeezed him harder. "I dunno what's going on, but I'm not letting you go."

"Ron…" It sounded like a painful moan. "Please, don't – don't do this if you don't mean it."

"Of course, I mean it, you daft git."

Harry pulled away. "If you come with me, I have to be honest." He looked soulfully at Ron. "I want you to mean it."

"I know we're blokes, Harry, and we don't do that sort of thing often, but you're my friend and –" Ron paused when Harry reached out and held his forearm gently. An intimate touch combined with the look in Harry's eyes, and even Ron, normally thick about anything that involved feelings, understood. "Oh…" He blushed a deep scarlet. "Are you saying you want…?"

Harry nodded. "For a long time. This is probably the worst possible time to mention it, but if you come along with me…"

Looking completely shocked, Ron stepped back, and broke their gaze and stared down at his feet. "You're saying you f-fancy me?"

Harry's hand fell to his side, his shoulders drooped, and the glimmer of hope in his eyes faded.

Ron swore at himself. He wanted to run up and hit the memory of himself standing there looking appalled, while Harry looked as if he'd been punched in the gut. He couldn't actually remember how he felt, but he knew in his heart that his reaction had been one of shock, not disgust.

"I'm sorry, Ron," Harry said dejectedly. "I shouldn't have… I understand. I'm going to go."

"No!" Ron shouted. "Stay! Please we can…"

Harry pulled out his wand –

Ron yanked himself out of the memory, knowing that Harry was about to Obliviate him and he didn't want to see it.

The room was quiet and empty. Harry had left. He wasn't as surprised as he thought he should've been. Maybe deep down beneath all of his insecurities, he had known how Harry felt.

Ron put the Pensieve away and as he did, he saw the box of Harry's things that Dobby had brought from Hogwarts. He picked it up and went to Harry's room, entering without knocking. Harry sat in the middle of the bed, his legs bent to his chest, hugging his knees. He briefly glanced up at Ron before looking at his toes again, which he wiggled as if loosening up the muscles.

Ron placed the box on the floor next to a pile of clothes that needed laundering and got right to the point. "That was bloody unfair, Harry."

"I don't want to talk about it," Harry responded coolly.

"Well, I do. That was unfair. You didn't give me a chance to –"

"To what, Ron? I saw how you looked at me. You were disgusted!"

"I was not disgusted."

Harry swung his legs around off the edge of the bed and glared at Ron. "Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah." Ron gritted his teeth. What right did Harry have to be angry with him? Harry was the one who had stolen his memory and ran away. "I was –"

"What were you, then?" Harry asked, standing up and stopping inches away from Ron.

"Shocked!"

"Right. Shocked that I was a bloody poof."

"No! I was shocked that you felt the same way that I did!"

Harry's eyes widened and his angry stance softened, though his eyes were still filled with doubt. He smirked. "You fancy yourself too, do you?"

The two of them did make some kind of pair, Ron thought. A pair of what, he didn't know. He chuckled and grabbed a fistful of Harry's t-shirt and pulled him flush against his chest until Harry's breath puffed against his chin. "No. I was shocked because I fancied you and I thought that you could never fancy me."

"Really?" Harry asked, rising his eyes to meet Ron's.

Ron nodded as he leaned forward, his lips open, eager to feel Harry's between them. Harry closed his eyes and tilted his head invitingly. Their noses touched and the image of their first kiss back in New Hope flashed in Ron's mind. "Bugger," he whispered and leaned his forehead against Harry's.

"If you're only doing this to make me feel better…"

"Shut it, Harry," Ron said and brushed a hand through Harry's hair. "That's not it. I have something that I have to tell you before we... we've done this before."

"Done what? Kissed?" Harry laughed as Ron nodded. "Really, Ron, this is no time to take the piss. I would've remembered if we… oh." The muscles in his face tightened. "I don't remember. I wanted – and waited – and we…" He pressed his fingers to his temples as if trying to pull out the memories.

Ron could feel Harry shaking under his hands and Ron's heart stopped. He never thought that he had done anything wrong, but now, a fear that Harry would feel that he took advantage of him coursed through him.

"I didn't mean for it to happen," Ron said. Harry's face fell. "No, I mean, I wanted it to happen, but not like that. Not when you were barking mad and had no idea who I was!"

"Was it just kissing or…?"

"Or. Loads of or."

A flush crept into Harry's cheek from his neck. Ron didn't know if it was from embarrassment or arousal.

"I'm sorry," Ron said quietly. "I hope you don't think I was taking advantage of you. You were still you and I –"

"Ron, shut up."

Harry's lips, a bit off-centred, crashed into his. All memories of their first kiss faded away. This was better. This meant something because it was really Harry, who knew him and all his faults, parting his lips with an eager tongue. Harry sighed softly when their tongues met and Ron grabbed the back of Harry's neck, his other arm snaking around his waist, and pulled him so tight that they lost their balance and stumbled backwards a few steps.

"Ron…" Harry moaned, the sound vibrating over Ron's lips. Ron shivered.

Panting, Ron whispered, "Maybe we should… talk."

"No talking," Harry replied. Holding Ron's hips, Harry walked backwards until they tumbled onto the bed, a tangle of arms and legs trying to position themselves vertically on the narrow bed.

"I can make the bed bigger," Harry said.

"No! Remember what happened the last time," Ron said, recalling their last visit to Seamus and Dean's small flat for dinner that had extended to an overnight visit when they were too pissed to travel home. The enlargement charm Harry had put on the sofa had worn off in the middle of the night and Ron had fallen to the floor, waking Harry, who had laughed about it for days after.

Harry chuckled.

"Not funny. That hurt," Ron said.

"Too much talking," Harry mumbled and attached his lips to the side of Ron's neck.

It was different than when they were back in New Hope. Harry was different. His hands, which used to roam over Ron in precise calculated patterns, now groped Ron as if Harry were drowning and clinging to Ron for his life.

There was a spot just behind Harry's ear that Ron knew drove him wild. Smiling devilishly, Ron lowered his lips and licked there gingerly at first, but gained momentum as Harry's grunts and soft moans grew more frequent.

"Fuck…" Harry whispered, bucking his hips in short, but frantic thrusts. Ron shoved a hand under Harry, grabbed his arse though the thin pyjama bottoms, and began rocking against him. He closed his eyes and buried his face in Harry's neck, breathing in the smell of vanilla and mint.

"Oh… Ron… feels good," Harry said, wrapping his legs around Ron just under his arse and joining in their frenzied rocking, perfectly matching Ron's pace.

Ron knew if they kept this up, it'd all be over in a few short minutes. "Wait…" he said and felt Harry's breath catch and stop. "Clothes – no clothes."

They began removing each other's clothes, knocking arms and jabbing each other with elbows. It was frantic and unpolished, and neither said an intelligent word until they were done and lying next to each other, panting and wiping the sweat from their brows.

"All right?" Ron asked, brushing his fingers against Harry's cheek.

Harry shivered. "Yeah. I can't believe…" He rolled over on his side to face Ron. "I never thought… and I'd wanted this for so long."

"I should've told you as soon as we got back, but Hermione said not to."

"Well, Dr Merrick said that I need to stop letting Hermione make all the difficult decisions in my life.

"Really? That's brilliant. Maybe I should give therapy a go."

Harry laughed. "It's not bad, actually."

"So you're going to be keep going, then?"

"Yeah. I reckon I need to. I mean you and me… we – and I don't even remember it."

"I could show you in the Pensieve?"

Looking thoughtful, Harry bit his bottom lip. "No. I want to experience it, not see it. It feels new and I like that. Does that make sense?"

"Yeah," Ron said. It made perfect sense, and Ron looked forward to experiencing it all over again as well. "It feels new for me too."

"But I would like to know what else I did." Ron opened his mouth to suggest waiting until morning, but Harry yawned. "But not tonight. I'm knackered."

"Me too." Ron sat up and reached for the blanket at the end of the bed.

Harry grabbed his forearm, looking scared. "Don't. Stay."

"I'm just grabbing the blanket so we don't freeze our bollocks off."

"I am cold," Harry said, crisscrossing his arms and rubbing them with his hands.

"I'll be right back," Ron said and jumped out of bed. He grabbed his old Cannons t-shirt from the box and handed it to Harry.

"I'm sorry I took it without asking," Harry said as he held it in his hand, his thumb grazing over the material.

"Don't be a git. Put it on." Harry pulled it on. Ron climbed back into bed, smiling broadly. "It looks better on you." He pulled the blanket over them. "Roll over."

Smiling madly, Harry did and snuggled back against Ron, who draped his arm around Harry's chest.

"You'll stay for the whole night?" Harry asked apprehensively.

"Harry," Ron kissed Harry's bare shoulder, "I'm staying with you tonight and tomorrow night until forever. Though…" He squirmed trying to get his arm that was falling asleep into a more comfortable position. "We're going to need to get a bigger bed."

TBC