My entry for Ron's Chessboard Fest 2021.
Prompt 13: A Moment of Truth
accio-broom is the best beta and she deserves all the love.
Harry wondered if he had ever felt more alone in his life as he stared up at the ceiling of his bedroom. If he would've thought about it hard enough, he might've remembered several instances where he felt just as lonely, but Harry simply didn't possess the strength right now.
Ron left him.
The thing he would miss the most left him, and the only person he could blame for it was himself. It took the better part of the last two weeks for Harry to realise it and all of yesterday to really accept that ugly truth.
The day Ron had walked out of their flat was nothing but a giant blur. He had drunk himself into a stupor, and if the broken mirrors were any indication, he pretty much had lost it. When he woke up the next morning, violently retching into the toilet, he called in sick and just went to bed again.
Although he had gone to work the following days, he floo called his PR manager, telling Liam to cancel all events for the time being, offering a half-arsed explanation and reminding him that it was his job to make up stories for him.
Harry had appeared at work as early as possible and left for home when the cleaning staff threw him out of his office. He didn't want to return to the vacant flat, Ron-free and, therefore, absolutely miserable. But he was also trying to avoid Arthur, Percy and Hermione. Especially, Hermione.
Harry's favourite pastime these last two weeks had been to curse and blame Hermione for all of this. She had obviously waited outside that day, escorting Ron to her parents' place where she lived at the moment. Harry had watched them through their living room window as they walked hand in hand to the next apparation point.
Everything had been fine, after all, hadn't it? Taking his manager's advice to feed the monster to protect his actual private life and his loved ones from the press, he had found his celebrity life rather comfortable and even enjoyable. After years of Harry having been announced to be Bachelor of the Year, rumours started to form about why he had still been single. Together with his manager, he worked out a way to lure the press away from the truth, and there hardly had been an instance anymore where Harry wasn't accompanied by one beautiful witch or another. Events and parties full of photographers did not bother him anymore as long as they only captured him socialising and having fun. Almost every day, the papers had a story to tell about him, but never about who he really had gone home to. Never about Harry being gay and him being madly in love with his best mate.
Most of the time, he concentrated on this feeling of betrayal and silently cursed Ron and Hermione for wanting him to come out officially. Didn't they see how intrusive and destructive the press had been all his life? Didn't they see how dangerous this could be for Ron? For himself?
But deep-down, Harry knew it wasn't like that. Ron would never demand Harry come out. The only thing Ron wanted from him was the freedom to live his own life out in the open. It had been a perfect situation for Harry these past months; working, going to parties and then coming home to Ron.
But for Ron, it hadn't been perfect.
Harry remembered that horrible night when he came home from some Ministry ball, only to find a note telling him Ron went out with Hermione to some Muggle gay club in London and that he doesn't have to stay up should he come home earlier than Ron.
Shame and guilt threatened to choke Harry when he thought about his terrible actions that night. Harry had seen red the second he read the words Muggle gay club, immediately assuming some dirty fuck will try to steal his Ron.
When he finally found them, he watched Ron and Hermione dancing like there was no tomorrow, looking absolutely ridiculous, but like they had the time of their lives. He watched Ron having fun, smiling like Harry hadn't seen him smile in a very long time. He watched as Ron got approached by a very handsome Muggle and Hermione finding herself another dance partner, winking at Ron. He watched Ron turn the man down. And he stopped watching when that fucker ignored it and tried to kiss him. Before Ron had the chance to shove him away, Harry forced himself between them and snarled into the muggle's face to fuck off, seconds away from beating the shite-eating grin out of him.
Harry knew now that this night must have been the turning point for Ron because after screaming at Hermione for luring Ron into that gay club, he completely lost it on his boyfriend. They had a terrible row that night, but Ron had forgiven him once more.
All feelings of betrayal got soon replaced by guilt. Over and over again, he recalled Ron's wounded expression every time Harry asked him to not join him for one party or another, Ron's anger and hurt when Harry exploded on him the few times Ron had gone out for the night without him or asked more than accusing questions afterwards. He imagined himself at these parties, having fun, drinking and talking about Quidditch most of the time. And then he imagined Ron, sitting alone in their flat, waiting for Harry to come home, just as alone as he was now. Ron wasn't happy anymore, but Harry had refused to listen to his words and see Ron's misery.
He suddenly hated himself — not just hurting his lover but also his best mate. Harry most likely ruined the most wonderful and perfect thing in his life and probably killed any chance to get Ron back. Maybe he even bollocked up their friendship for good, just like he had with all his other friendships if all the declined Birthday invitations Ron sent out before their break-up were any indication. Hermione always had been very vocal about what she thought about Harry's treatment of Ron, and he just had been too deliberately blind and busy to notice everyone turning away from Harry.
That's why he lay in bed. All alone. On his Birthday.
The only guest he had today had been Ginny, bringing him a little basket with some snacks Mrs Weasley prepared for him. She had been smart enough to not wish him a Happy Birthday.
While Ron hadn't asked him to come out of the closet, Harry wanted to keep Ron inside it. He should've known better than anyone what it means to be hidden away for being different from the rest, for a dirty secret not allowed to get out. This comparison with the Dursley's made him hate himself even more.
If he wanted to have a real shot at getting Ron and his friends back, Harry had to clean up his own life first. Slowly, he got out of bed, determined to get a long overdue shower. Before he went into the bathroom, though, Harry summoned some parchment and a quill, writing a short note and a rather long letter (for Harry's standards anyway).
He quickly delivered the note to his manager's assistant through a short floo call, telling her it was urgent.
His owl Athena nibbled on some owl treat he gave her while Harry tied the letter to one of her claws. "Alright, Athena," he said, his voice unusually wavering, "please, deliver this letter as fast as possible, okay? And make sure Hermione reads it."
Ron was well aware of Hermione's worrying glances in his direction.
They both sat on Hermione's bed, with their backs leaning against the headboard as Ron distracted himself with the wonder that is a television, and his best friend unsurprisingly reading a book beside him. He was glad she didn't force him to talk about his feelings right now.
Over the last two weeks, Hermione had gone out of her way to keep Ron from thinking and worrying about Harry. An impossible task, really, but she did such a great job of trying to cheer him up and even succeeding sometimes that Ron often felt overwhelmed by the need to hug her.
Today though, Hermione knew Ron couldn't be kept from thinking about Harry. It was the last day of July, after all, and Harry's Birthday. And it would be the first Birthday since Harry turned 17 that Ron and Hermione wouldn't be with him. It would be the first Birthday in the last four years that Harry and Ron weren't a couple anymore.
In the moment, sadness and hurt seemed to choke him, and he wondered if Harry had even considered them a couple in the first place. Right at the beginning, when they started dating after some unbelievably awkward confessions of feelings, it had been like a dream come true. Finally, the times of mutual pining had been over, replaced by a sense of such content and happiness that Ron often had woken up in the morning, sure it all just had been a dream. A second later, though, with Harry's arm around him, reminded Ron that it was genuine.
Despite Ron missing Harry terribly, he knew it was the right decision to move out. For the sake of his own sanity and happiness, he had to leave Harry. Ron knew that Harry loved him more than anyone else. It had taken him a long time to realise that sometimes, love wasn't enough.
Hermione wrote a short letter to Harry this morning, wishing him a Happy Birthday. They both signed it, deciding it would be best if they sent one letter together. The other day he floo called Ginny, asking her to check on Harry today because Ron knew that his best mate wasn't fine. None of all these parties, charity Quidditch matches and Ministry galas could change that. At least, not after two weeks. A very selfish part of Ron hoped it never would.
Ron was about to suggest to Hermione to grab some ice cream when Harry's owl tapped on the window glass, wildly flapping her wings. Instead of letting Athena in, Hermione looked at Ron with her eyebrows furrowed but with a questioning look directed at him.
Letting out a deep sigh, Ron stood up and opened the window. The owl flew inside, flying straight towards Ron's opened and still not fully unpacked trunk. Landing gracefully on top of one of Ron's bright orange Canon t-shirts, she lifted the claw the letter was tied to and hooted loudly at…Hermione?
"Well, it's yours, apparently," Ron said, pointing at the cream-coloured envelope. "Maybe he just wants to say thank you for the Birthday wishes."
"Ron, you know th–"
"Please, just open it, Hermione."
Her brown eyes held the kind of anxiety he felt too, but she still freed Athena from the letter and gave her an owl treat. Apparently, the bird got the order to make sure Hermione read the letter, as Ron knew that she would've been long gone after receiving her treat.
"Are you really sure, Ron?" Hermione asked, looking up from the unusually thick letter, "Will you promise me to not floo over, right away? Regardless of what that letter might say."
He slowly nodded at her, his gaze fixed on Harry's letter. This certainly wasn't a simple 'Thank You' note, and the fact Harry wrote such a long letter at all scared him to the point of pure panic.
"Please, open the letter, Hermione." If it was because of his panicked voice or Hermione's own curiosity what the letter might say, Ron couldn't tell, but she finally opened the envelope, took out the note and held it in a way both of them could read it.
Dear Hermione,
First of all, I'm sorry for any potential annoyance Athena might have caused, but I told her not to leave before you have read this letter.
What I have to tell you is crucial for both you and Ron. I know you will show Ron this letter right away; maybe he is even reading it with you right now. But this letter is actually primarily for you. What I want to tell Ron, I have to tell him in person, and maybe after today, he'll give me a chance to hear me out.
Hermione, I'm sorry.
I'm sorry for all the reasons you expect me to be sorry for, but I'm also sorry for letting our friendship crumble and fall apart. I had been so angry at you for stealing Ron. Stealing him, like he is some kind of possession to lose. The last two weeks, I was consumed by this unreasonable rage that I thought was gone after Tom Riddle's soul left me forever. Yes, it took me two weeks to finally realise that you just were a good friend to Ron.
Because a good friend is what you are. And I know you tried to be a good friend to me for the longest time. I took you for granted. Just like I took Ron for granted and everyone else I turned away from during last year. I turned into a horrible person without noticing it, or rather, refusing to acknowledge it. And because of that, I also turned into an awful friend.
I could blame many things for my behaviour, like fame or the press or my manager or my childhood. But after taking a hard look at myself, I concluded that I can't blame anyone or anything for this but me.
Before I even try to make it right with all of you, before I can look into Ron's eyes again, I have to sort out my life first. Actually, I'll start to do this today.
Both of you have to up your security. Use any charm you can think of. I doubt you will be in any serious danger, but I have no idea what kind of reaction this will cause. It's best if you stay away from Diagon Alley tomorrow. I won't mention Ron's name, of course, but expect journalists trying to corner the two of you for interviews.
Do you remember the beach cottage we celebrated my 19th Birthday? I will spend the whole day there tomorrow. Would you and Ron join me? I have a lot to say.
Love,
Harry
A heavy silence fell over Ron and Hermione when they both finished reading Harry's letter. Hermione slowly folded the parchment and laid it down on her nightstand before looking up at Ron with wide eyes.
Ron didn't know what to say, let alone what to think of this. Harry did not outright say it, but the indication was clear enough. Whether he'll write an official statement or give a press conference, Harry planned to come out today.
Wasn't this what Ron wanted? For Harry to not give a flying fuck what the rest of the world would think about him? For finally being able to live a life out in the open?
But instead of feeling relieved and happy, he felt an old terror creeping up his neck. Like in a trance, he sat down on the bed again and stared at Harry's letter. Ron ran his hands over his face and groaned from the overwhelming sensation of guilt and anxiety washing over him. Did he force Harry to do this? Did he force Harry to expose himself to the nasty side of the public?
Soft hands tugged on Ron's arms until he was forced to look up. Hermione knelt in front of him, a determined look in her warm, brown eyes. "What do you want to do now?" She asked, lightly caressing Ron's cheek.
"Well, the letter was for you…" Ron joked, his attempt to lighten the mood earned him one of Hermione's trademark eye-rolls. "Fuck, Hermione, I have no idea. What if Harry is just doing this because he's hurt?"
"Harry always acts impulsively," Hermione answered in a thoughtful tone, "but his words sound sincere to me. And as he said in his letter, he really needs to sort out his life."
"He shouldn't have to come out though for that."
"No, he doesn't have to do this. But for his own sake, I really think it's the right way to go."
"I can try to get a hold of him and check how he's doing if you want me to," Hermione added when Ron didn't respond.
"You would do that?" Ron looked down at her once more, feeling grateful to have Hermione by his side.
"Of course," Hermione stood up from her kneeling position to sit beside Ron and took his hand into hers, "But Ron, just because Harry is doing this doesn't mean you have to go back to him. I'll support you, no matter how you decide, but please promise me you won't let yourself get treated like that again. I don't want to see you getting hurt like that anymore."
He smiled at her and softly squeezed her hand. "I promise, Hermione. But I think I can't just continue as if nothing happened. Not so soon, anyway."
"Good," Hermione stood up and went over to Ron's suitcase where Athena still sat, looking expectantly at them, "Come on, Athena. I bring you back to Harry." The owl hooted at her as if in protest but still flew up to Hermione's right shoulder.
"Hermione?" Ron said before she could disapparate.
"Yes?"
"Thank you."
The press room of his manager's company resembled a cozy living room rather than the place he held all his important meetings. Aside from the chairs for the reporters and photographers and the speaker's stand at the front, it was decorated like a room he would suspect to find in some Lord's castle. It had an impressive fireplace, a golden chandelier and was decorated with several large paintings and fancy looking rugs.
As Harry took a quick look into the press room from the door that led to Liam's office, he saw that some news outlets had sent their reporters early. They clearly expected big news from him, considering the last and only press conference he gave had been the one right after the war. Harry was sure they thought he would announce an engagement. It was the obvious conclusion, and if he wouldn't have been in such a grave mood, he maybe could've found it amusing to imagine their faces after he gave his statement.
You'll see their reactions soon enough, Harry thought.
Despite what he was going to do in less than ten minutes, he felt strangely calm. It could've been the years of experience handling the press, but Harry knew this wasn't the case. Talking about the Quidditch Cup final or the latest decision of the Wizengamot was one thing. Telling the world he was gay was something else entirely.
No, Harry's calmness didn't come from years of navigating the press, but rather Hermione's visit an hour ago. She didn't say much, just that Ron wanted him to know he didn't have to do this. And she made it very clear this outing wasn't a safe ticket to get Ron back. He told her that all he had said to her in the letter was true and that he needed to do this for himself more than anything else.
Hermione had simply nodded and turned around to floo home, but she had stopped in her tracks.
"Be safe," She said softly, without turning around. Not waiting for an answer, she stepped inside the fireplace, leaving behind the orange flames dancing inside it.
Hope sparked inside his heart because, obviously, Ron and Hermione still cared and tried to look out for him. Even if he ruined every chance of a relationship with Ron, not all seemed lost considering Harry's friendship with his two best friends.
"Are you ready?" Liam's voice came from behind him. The short, grey-haired wizard stepped up beside Harry, looking up at him with his ever-professional mask of indifference.
"Ready," Harry answered, testing his voice, glad it sounded strong and unwavering.
Without missing a beat, Harry's manager opened the dark, wooden door, and the two of them walked to the podium. Several cameras flashed already when Harry cast Sonorous at himself. The room was filled with at least one journalist and a photographer from every news outlet in Magical Britain.
The news of Harry Potter being gay was going to spread like wildfire.
"Good evening," Harry started to speak, his amplified voice quieting down the low chatter of the audience. He planned to make this short, wishing to be back at his flat already.
"I'm here to inform you that I won't be attending any official events for the rest of the year." The voices grew louder again, but Liam stopped the chatter by simply raising his hand. The way this short man managed crowds never ceased to amaze Harry.
"This is simply a way for me to get my life back on track, and I know I need this time for myself in the upcoming months. I-"
"Mr Potter," Rita Skeeter interrupted, her acid green Quick-Quotes Quill and a parchment hovering in the air beside her, "Does your-"
"Mrs Skeeter, I don't remember my manager giving you permission to ask questions," Harry cut her off, trying very hard to not let her admire his middle finger. "And if you wish to attend this press conference until the end, I advise you to not interrupt me again."
Raising an eyebrow at him but otherwise remaining silent, Rita sat down again, her quill still scribbling wildly. Harry knew he would pay for this. He was just about to give her the perfect ammunition, after all.
"I could just leave it at that. It would definitely prevent my manager from being forced to read through a lot of hate-mail, and it would spare me from having to hide from the public for a while. But these past months, my relationship with the press and official events destroyed everything I really hold dear. And no, I don't blame you for this. You intruded on my life more than once, but what I have let my life become is entirely my fault. That's why I have to make the reason for my retreat public. Before I reconcile with the people I hurt, I have to make it right with myself, first and foremost."
Complete silence settled over the room. Not a single whisper could be heard, and even Rita Skeeter's quill stopped scribbling, simply hovering beside the witch.
Harry closed his eyes for a brief second as his heartbeat threatened to beat out of his chest. It was now or never, so Harry took one last deep breath, and then, he finally told the world the truth.
"I'm gay."
A gentle breeze greeted Ron and Hermione when they apparated to the beach Harry mentioned in his letter. The slight wind felt like a relief compared to the stuffy heat in the city. Hermione could only shake her head at Ron for complaining about the hot days, given how rare they were in London.
They could already see the small cottage from their apparation point, the security charms still allowing them to notice it and enter its wards. It was a short walk to the small wooden cabin, but it was enough time for Ron to break out in a sweat.
Yesterday night they had heard about Harry's press conference on the radio. The news station recited his speech word by word before analyzing it, also word by word, and taking wild guesses on which wizards were most likely to be a past or present love interest of the Boy-Who-Lived.
Harry's words kept repeating in Ron's mind, making him feel guilty, relieved and sad, all at the same time. More than anything else, he wanted to know how Harry felt about all of this, but at the same time, he feared what Harry might expect from Ron now.
With a gentle wave of his wand, Ron alerted Harry of their presence, and a second later, he walked out of the cottage. His black hair looked even wilder than usual, fitting his red-rimmed eyes and the wrinkled shirt he was wearing.
Despite Harry's ruffled appearance, Ron immediately felt a pang of deep longing inside his chest. All he wanted to do right now was to run his hands over Harry's five o'clock shadow and kiss away the dark bags under these brilliantly green eyes.
Instead, he just stood in front of Harry, willing his heart and mind to slow down.
After what felt like an awfully long time of awkward silence, Harry cleared his throat. "Would- would you like to come in?"
"I won't come in with you," Hermione answered, and before Harry could protest, she turned to Ron, "We'll meet at Neville's at 7?"
"But Hermione, I want to talk to you too."
"I know, Harry," Hermione looked back at him, her lips tightly pressed together, "But I think you should talk to Ron first. Alone."
Ron could see Harry didn't expect this. He probably prepared a whole speech for Hermione and was now at a loss for words after her announcement.
"We will talk, just the two of us. And I will try to rebuild our friendship, regardless of what Ron might decide for himself." Hermione paused for a brief moment and took a step closer towards Harry. "But should Ron decide to give your relationship another chance, remember that our friendship will stand and fall on how you treat him. I won't watch one of my best friends hurt the other again."
And as if to make a point, she took her wand out of its holster, gripping it tightly. Without waiting for Harry's response, though, Hermione quickly squeezed Ron's hand before turning around and disapparating with a quiet plop.
"I really wanted to talk to her," Harry sighed, weaving a hand through his unruly hair.
"How are you?" Ron asked instead of saying something about Hermione's decision to keep out of this conversation.
Apparently surprised about Ron's sudden change of topic, Harry looked at him with a puzzled expression. A second later, though, his gaze softened, and Ron squirmed under the longing Harry's eyes held.
"Better than I thought I would be" Harry took a small step closer.
"You didn't have to-"
"I know," Harry quickly interrupted him rather loudly, and with a much quieter voice, he said, "I know. But I wanted to. I needed to do this."
Ron nodded and stared at his feet, not knowing what else he could say right now.
"Would you like to sit in the backyard? I have some beer and coke in the fridge."
"Sure. I'll take the coke." Ron didn't trust himself to not throw all resolve into the wind if he drank something stronger than Butterbeer. Booze combined with Harry's toned legs on full display on this hot summer day? Ron wouldn't take any chances.
Five minutes later, the two of them found themselves sitting on the small porch, overlooking the ocean. The sea was calm today, and the sound of the waves lulled them into a companionable silence.
Ron couldn't tell how much time had passed when Harry finally started to speak. He told Ron about his past two weeks—all the feelings he went through, from fiery anger over crippling guilt to unbelievable longing. He talked about how much he had hated himself and how this feeling shrank to a tiny flame after yesterday's coming out. And when Harry looked at Ron, telling him he was sorry and he was well aware Ron most likely couldn't see a meaning anymore behind his apologies, a single tear escaped Harry's eye.
Ron wanted nothing more than to brush it away, but he didn't. Instead, he braced himself for what he needed to tell Harry.
"Harry, I-," Ron sat up a little straighter, making sure to look Harry in the eyes, "I need time. I need time for myself, at least, for a while. I realised that I stopped being my own person in the last months of our relationship, and like you, I have to find my way back to myself."
"I obviously want you back, Ron," Harry's shoulders slumped down a little from the disappointment, but at the same time, Ron thought he saw something like resolve shining behind his green eyes, "But I'll be happy as long as you let me be a part of your life. Maybe- maybe we could just hang out for a while. Just as friends. Go to the pub, watch a Quidditch match, stuff like that."
Ron gave him a small smile. "That sounds good."
They didn't say anything else after that. The sun wasn't ready to set yet, but its late afternoon glow gave the sea a beautiful reflection.
At some point, Harry's hand that lay between them on the wooden bench accidentally bumped against Ron's. Harry jolted and wanted to pull his hand away, but Ron stopped him. He softly grazed over Harry's wrist with his fingertips, eliciting a small sigh from him. Ron watched as his hand interlaced their fingers; Harry's olive scarred skin against his pale, freckled and equally scarred skin. It was a beautiful sight.
They kept sitting this way until it was time for Ron to go, just staring out into the sea and holding hands.
Resisting Harry Potter had never been easy for him, but nowadays, everything his best mate did seemed to drive Ron crazy.
Christmas was a week away, and a month ago, Ron and Harry started dating again.
One day, after attending one of Ginny's Quidditch games, they had gone to a small, cozy Muggle Café, trying to warm themselves up from the cold November weather. The Polyjuice Potion they used to disguise themselves from the watching crowd in the Quidditch stands had long worn off, but a rather persistent strand of blonde hair on Harry's head refused to turn back into its usual raven black state.
Ron had reached over their tiny round table to point it out to Harry but instead almost knocked his glasses off in the process. They burst into laughter, and Ron didn't know if it had been the rush of cheering for his sister today or something else entirely, but for some reason, he had chosen this moment to ask Harry out on a proper date.
And it could have been all in Ron's head, but he failed to remember if he had ever seen Harry smile as he had at that moment.
Without further discussing it, they had kept it slow. Their dates had involved a lot of kissing again, but they always had gone home alone in the end; Harry to his flat and Ron to the tiny apartment he currently shared with Hermione since early September.
Now though, they stood just outside of The Leaky Cauldron, which Hannah and Neville reopened today. After taking over the pub from Tom, they had renovated the large terrace, surprising most of Tom's old guests that it even existed.
For the reopening, they had decorated it with fairy lights and some plants that didn't mind the season's cold weather. High, round tables stood everywhere where the guests could have some drinks and snacks.
Together with Hermione and her new boyfriend Martin, they stood around one of these tables, drinking the most delicious hot chocolate Ron ever had. While Hermione was busy introducing Martin to their friends, Harry was busy running his hand over Ron's arse.
From their place right in front of the wall of the Leaky Cauldron, they were able to observe everything, but no one was able to see how Harry's hand seemed to have found a new home in one of Ron's back pockets.
After about an hour, Ron finally had enough. Before Harry could sneak his hand there again, Ron grabbed his wrist and pulled him behind one of Neville's monster plants which happened to be the perfect hiding place.
"You noticed all the bloody journalists out there, right?" Ron asked but clearly didn't expect an answer from Harry as he kissed him as he had wanted to all night. Harry didn't miss a beat and pulled Ron tightly against him, returning the kiss with equal enthusiasm.
Harry moaned into Ron's mouth when Ron sucked at his lower lip, making him want to apparate home with Harry right away.
As Harry set to kiss Ron's neck, it was now the redhead's turn to bite back a groan. "Let's- let's- Oh Merlin, Harry."
"Let's what?" Harry whispered as his hands slowly wandered down Ron's body.
"Let's go home," Ron said in a breathy voice, lips swollen from kissing, "Let's say goodbye to Hannah and Neville and then go home."
Harry shook his head as he stepped away from Ron, but tugging at his hand as he went into the direction of the party guests.
"Before we go home, let's show them," Harry stepped up to Ron again, this time just kissing him softly on the lips, "Only if you're okay with it, of course."
"But you already had your moment of truth. Everyone knows you're gay."
"They don't know about us, though," Harry said, softly stroking Ron's cheek, "And besides, my real moment of truth had been when I apologized to you and our friends. The public outing was nothing compared to admitting I had been a shit friend and partner."
"You know, I don't care about the press knowing about us, but you don't have to prove anything to me, Harry."
"I think I do. Let's show everyone the wizard that won over The-Boy-Who-Lived," Harry said, and without another word, he led them into the crowd again.
Nobody was paying attention to them, despite the great Harry Potter standing in the middle of the expansive terrace, holding hands with his best mate. Mistletoe hung from above them, and Harry grinned at the coincidence.
"Doesn't seem like we have much of an audience," Ron stated as he observed all the party guests who were too busy chatting and drinking, "But I think one of the fucking paparazzi has spotted us."
"Do you think that's enough, Weasley? Simply holding hands in front of a paparazzi?"
Ron was well aware Harry was daring him, but Ron had been sorted into Gryffindor for a reason, after all. Never breaking eye contact with Harry, Ron put his thumb and middle finger inside his mouth and whistled so loudly, everyone startled out of their conversation and turning their heads towards them.
And without missing a beat, Harry put his arms around Ron's neck and kissed him. Ron heard surprised gasps and camera flashes and cheering, but all he could focus on were Harry's lips and his heart beating so fast he was sure everyone could hear it.
As they broke the kiss, Ron put his forehead against Harry's and grinned like the bloody, lovesick fool he knew he looked like right now.
"Take us home, Potter," Ron whispered, feeling freer than ever before in his life.
They never made it back to the party.
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