A Scream Through the Forest

It was all Fred and George's idea. The campfire was dying out; yet all of them were still hyped up on chocolate and marshmallows, not ready to turn in. Hermione and Ginny immediately vetoed the whole idea, telling the boys that they had no desire to run around in the dark forest with the mosquitoes. Instead Hermione taught Ginny a Muggle card game as the twins coaxed Ron and Harry into a game of Hide n'Seek.

Now Ron was crouching behind a row of bushes, his legs beginning to cramp. What was taking George so long to find them all? It had been a good fifteen minutes since the three boys had left George to count his 50 hippogriffs. Surely it doesn't take that long. All the other rounds had been fairly short. Unable to stay in the crouched position any longer, Ron slid down to sit amongst the dried leaves.

He found himself wondering where Harry had hidden. It probably was a good spot, too, if George hadn't found him yet. When the counting started, Ron and Harry rushed off in opposite directions. Ron had an image of Harry hidden behind some tree, squatting and waiting and listening. He smiled to himself as he thought of Harry's eyebrows furrowed and head cocked to one side as he listened for approaching footsteps. Harry would have pulled the collar of his orange Chudley Cannons tee-shirt up over his nose, as Ron noticed was a new habit Harry had begun doing over the summer.

The shirt was Ron's, of course, but Ron knew it looked much better on Harry since it complimented his dark hair, and pale skin. On Ron it just clashed terribly with his red hair and made his freckles look even more alien. It wasn't his fault his favorite team's color was orange. It was better than maroon.

All summer Harry had borrowed Ron's clothes, quickly telling his redheaded friend defensively that he would rather wear his best mate's clothes than that pig of a cousin's hand-me-downs. Ron hadn't planned on asking about it, but assured Harry it was just fine with him, because Ron's clothes seems to be a better fit than Dudley's anyway. Except for the trousers, which were a little to long and Harry had to cuff them to keep from tripping.

The forest seemed very dark and quiet. "Bugger, George, are you that daft?" Ron muttered. A heaviness had settled in his stomach. Why had he eaten so many of the marshmallows? And those, what did Harry call them? S-something…Ores…S'mores. Yes, and that's what Ron did, was have some more and some more.

Ron found himself smiling again, despite the feeling that the marshmallows were congealing in his abdomen, as he remembered how Harry's face had lit up when he was explaining to all of them about this treat of graham crackers, chocolate and marshmallows. Harry never had one himself because those horrible Dursley prats had never given him anything, but had heard about them. Ron chuckled as he remembered the light in Harry's green eyes as he took his first gooey bite, melted chocolate dripping down his chin.

There was a soft rustle behind him, and Ron left his thoughts behind as he struggled back up to his crouching position. About bloody time! He thought to himself. He held his breath and listened carefully for a moment. It was quiet again. Too quiet. Fred and George were anything but quiet, always bounding about and making their presence known. Ron felt his heart beat becoming faster and louder as another rustle came closer. He swung around and found himself staring into a pair of large, yellow glowing eyes.

A scream, louder and shriller than the Shriek of the Beheaded Banshee of Bulgaria ripped up his throat, out his mouth and through the forest.

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Harry leaned against the large willow tree trunk and listened intently for his pursuers. He was really enjoying his summer at the Burrow, even with Sirius's death, the pending war and the prophecy on his mind. It seemed that since he arrived at the Burrow, Ron had kept him plenty occupied with Quidditch, camping, and swimming, and it made those thoughts not so looming.

Of course, Ron let him have his moments. His friend seemed to know just how to handle him and waited, then listened when Harry was ready to talk. Harry knew Hermione meant well, but her constant pressuring was more than Harry could stand. Ron let him rant, let him get angry, and then let him cry, only commenting in short quips and truths that Harry understand better than long-drawn out explanations and re-hashings of events.

Besides Ron being understanding, he also knew what Harry needed was good old-fashioned fun. And being around Ron, it was hard not to smile when the redhead smiled so wide that it seemed to stretch through the entire room and to laugh with Ron's contagious, deep throaty laugh. Ron's presence was a large comfort to him, even when they were just sitting in a cushioned silence. But between Ron and the twins when they visited twice a week, Harry was almost always at play.

That was why he agreed at once to the game of Hide n' Seek. He never really got to play it; unless the times he hid from Dudley counted. But then he never wanted to be sought then. Now it seemed like a lot of time had passed and Harry was ready to be found. He was a little tired of swatting the mosquitoes away, and already had multiple bumps on arms and neck that itched like mad. Cocking his head to the side, he listened once more, but didn't hear a sound. He relaxed against the tree and pulled the collar of his orange tee-shirt up over his nose, hoping to deter the bugs.

A smile came to his lips at the aroma he smelled on the shirt. No wonder the nasty buggers were after him. They must have caught Ron's sweet scent. A scent that lingered even after the clothes had been through the laundry.

What made Harry grin even more was the thought that by this time of night, his own scent had also sunk into the cloth and now his and Ron's scents were mingling together. Almost like they were both in the shirt at the same time. Harry hugged himself at the thought.

But nothing could top the real thing, and Harry found himself wondering where Ron was hiding. Probably crouched between some bushes somewhere batting off mosquitoes. Harry wished he was hiding with him, crouched right next to him, close enough to maybe brush arms and legs so they could gain more coverage from the bush.

It was overly tempting to just follow Ron but because he did not want to look suspicious, Harry made a point to go in the opposite direction in search of a hiding place, when George started counting.

Harry frowned. Where the hell was George? Had he already found Ron and Fred? Harry didn't believe his spot was that good…

The scream came suddenly, breaking across the silent forest. Although it was faint to Harry's ears because of the distance, it still sent a chill down his spine.

"Ron," he murmured.

Completely forgetting about the game, he headed towards the sound.

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The scream had left Ron's throat sore so when the yellow eyes jumped at him, all he could do was fall backwards and yelp pitifully. A large ball of ginger-colored fur had landed on his chest.

"Meow?" the smashed-in face of his attacker cocked its head inquisitively.

"Crookshanks! You bloody cat! You scared me half to death!" Ron growled hoarsely.

Crookshanks stretched his neck and rubbed his head against Ron's cheek, purring.

"Bloody cat," Ron mumbled, but still gave the animal a good scratch behind the ears.

Suddenly Crookshanks ears perked up and Ron looked at the animal curiously for a moment before he heard the faint sound, too. It grew a little louder and then seemed to fade off a bit again.

"Ron!" a voice called through the trees. Ron cocked his head, imitating the ginger cat-like animal on his chest. Was that Harry?

"RON!" The redhead jumped to his feet knocking Crookshanks to the ground. It was Harry, but Ron thought his voice sounded a bit peculiar.

"Ron!" It sounded further away now, but Ron still detected the tremble in his friend's voice. Like it was full of—fear. Oh god! Was something chasing Harry? Ron pushed his way through the bushes towards Harry's voice and called out,

"Harry!"

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Stupid George taking his good old time to find them. Stupid Fred for suggesting the game in the first place. Stupid for Harry to go along with it. Stupid to be running around in a dark wood on their own with Death Eaters on the loose.

Harry's mind was racing as he went to what he hoped was the direction of the scream. After that one outburst, the woods had fallen silent and all Harry could hear was his own heart pounding in his chest and the blood rushing in his ears.

Wild, horrible thoughts pressed themselves to his mind. What if Ron had been attacked? Or taken? What if some Death Eaters breeched the wards around the Burrow and its boundaries and had taken Ron—His Ron.

Harry choked back his fear and did what was probably just as stupid as could be. He began to call out to Ron, hoping for an answer. He didn't think that this might alert Ron's attacker to take faster action until it was too late. All Harry knew was that he needed to get to Ron, so he kept calling out his name, running this way and that, hoping beyond hope he would at least hear something.

Faintly, he heard it. So soft, so quiet. His name. Harry stopped in a clearing where the moonlight broke through the trees, bathing the ground in a white light. For a moment he strained to listen for his name again, but heard only leaves rustling and twigs breaking. It sounded like feet rushing towards the clearing.

Briefly, Harry thought about running, in case this was the attacker, but then heard, loud and clear, "Harry!"

"Oh, my god! Ron! Ron, where are you? Are you all right? I heard a scream…" Harry looked about him wildly, not daring to move for fear of losing the voice.

Ron stopped just outside the clearing. He could see his raven-haired friend though some low-hanging branches. Harry's green eyes were wide and looked around frantically as he wrung his hands together. His face was flushed and his hair as even wilder than usual from running. Ron could not believe how frightened his friend looked. He must have really thought Ron had gotten hurt and this made the redhead feel guilty.

"Oh, I'm alright, Harry," Ron said through the branches. "It was Crookshanks. The bloody cat came out of nowhere…"

As if that was his cue, the gingered-haired cat pounced past Ron and into the clearing. Harry jumped a bit, but then stood still as Crookshanks rubbed against his legs.

Ron stepped out in the clearing soon after, looking down at his feet sheepishly.

"Ron!" Harry made a noise between a choke and a squeal and rushed forward, jumping up and wrapping his arms around the redhead's neck, knocking Ron flat on his back.

In any other circumstance, Ron would have laughed nervously or said something stupid, but at that moment it was impossible for him to talk with Harry's warm, soft mouth on his and a tongue desperately trying to push its way in. So Ron did the only thing he thought logical and complied, opening his mouth to let Harry's smooth tongue slid in and fight for space with his own.

After several long moments of this, when they had to break for breath, Harry pulled away just enough to look Ron in the eye, their noses brushing against each other.

"Don't ever scare me like that again, okay?" Harry whispered breathlessly.

All Ron could manage was a nod as he gasped for breath. Harry grinned mischievously before giving Ron a short Eskimo kiss and ascending back down to continue the wonderful assault on Ron's already swollen lips.

Harry's fear had quickly dissolved into a ferocious, passionate desire—one he had been trying to tame for years now, and especially during this past summer. None of that mattered now, because upon hearing Ron moan against his mouth, Harry knew his friend had been suffering the same as him. His hands found themselves up under Ron's plain light blue tee-shirt, his fingers tingling with the feel of the redhead's soft, silky skin. In a desperate need for more contact, Harry pressed his legs and hips into Ron's and was filled with delight to feel the other boy's arousal. He grinded his hips more to let Ron know he was just as aroused.

Ron gasped and panted as Harry withdrew his mouth again, this time sitting up to straddle the taller boy. When Harry grabbed the hem of the blue shirt and began pushing it up, Ron lifted his upper body slightly so it could be slipped off. Ron then watched as Harry took off his round spectacles and set them on the discarded, crumpled shirt before pulling off his orange shirt and adding it to the pile, the colors of the shirts contrasting beautifully.

Noting the spark of desire in those bright jade-colored eyes, Ron sighed and licked his lips. Harry immediately began to attack his neck and earlobe with licking, kissing and nibbling. Ron could not keep the moans at bay. Especially when the mouth began to descend his chest and hands were pushing Ron's jeans and boxers down to his knees.

When Harry's hand wrapped itself lovingly around Ron's swollen member and stroked it lightly, a burst of fire made its way up the redhead's spine. When Harry's hot, moist mouth surrounded it and the hand moved down to grip the base, Ron thought his head had exploded. All he could hear was a rushing sound in his ears amongst the moans and grunts that escaped through his lips. His long fingers entwined themselves through the dark, messy tresses, which made Harry hum pleasantly, and the vibrations of Harry's mouth made Ron's toes curl.

Neither heard the rustling of feet and the not-so-quiet whispers coming towards them. There was a sound of branches snapping as they were pushed aside as four feet pounded on the ground and burst through to the clearing.

"Aha!"

"We found yo…"

Ron turned heavy-lidded, lust filled blue eyes towards his identical brothers and managed only to grunt, "Sod off," and pushed slightly on Harry's head to make sure the ebony hair did not cease its current up and down motion. Ron needed not to worry because Harry was too much into the pleasure he was giving his friend to have stopped. In fact, he began to bob faster. A groan passed through Ron's lips and his eyes rolled back in his head as he began to buck his hips to get as much of Harry's mouth as he could.

Fred and George turned tail and dashed through the forest, trying to put as much distance as they could from the scene they had come upon. Unfortunately they did not get far enough away so they wouldn't hear Ron's scream ring out through the forest for a second time that night, this time calling out Harry's name.

fin