Legal Crap: I don't own Harry Potter or anything else that has to do with
his world. J.K. Rowling does. I do; however, own this story. If you
would like to use this story or any of my other ones for a website, that's
fine, as long as I am notified of this and am given the proper credit.and
as long as you promise to worship me forever!!!! Mwa-
hahahahahahahahahaha!!!!!!
A/N: Yay, ch. 2 is here!!! Thank you again to all who reviewed, you are my oxygen. Anyway.like I said before, this may or may not be slash. It depends on how you look at it. When I thought it up, I felt that it was kinda slashy, but that's just me. But if you're a homophobe then just to be on the safe side, don't bother reading this. GO AWAY!!! Lol, j/k. Seriously though, you've been warned, so don't send me hate mail. As always reviews are needed, wanted, desired. Helpful criticism is OK as long as we don't get too picky. Flames will be used to light my cigarettes.wait a tick.I don't smoke! Oh well. Enjoy the story anyway.
****Harry is 14 right now b/c he went to the Weasleys' early. His birthday is July 31st, I believe, and so..well..he hasn't had it yet. OK, then.
Ronweasley1029: As always, thank you for the generous review of ch. 1. Reviews like yours are my reasons for writing. You make me feel so special! Once again, this one's for you! *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* "Sweetness" ch. 2: Late Night or Orange Boxers by: Kate
The large purple bus skidded to a stop, causing all the beds to slide at least a foot forward. Harry, himself, ended up flying backward and landing on the hardwood floor with a thump.
"Ottery St. Catchpole, the Weasleys!" Stan formally announced.
"Great," Harry mumbled grumpily, clinging to the bed-frame as he hauled himself up. Stan assisted Harry in carrying his trunk, with Hedwig's cage balanced nicely on top, to the Weasleys' front doorstep.
"Well, so long 'Arry! 'Member, if y'ever need to t'get anywheres, s'long as it's on land, the Night Bus is at cho service." Stan proudly puffed out his chest at the last bit. He grinned and waved good-bye to Harry (not without one last look at his scar of course) and left him standing alone on the doorstep. The bus, whose doors slammed shut behind Stan, was gone with another loud bang.
Harry glanced down at Hedwig and, upon the discovery that she was asleep, became annoyed. "Sure, she sleeps while I'm wondering all over the bloody country." he grumbled. However, he had a more important problem than lack of sleep. As he turned to face the front door, an unpleasant thought crept into his mind. The Weasleys most likely locked their doors at night. And Harry hadn't had a chance to owl them, informing them of his arrival, seeing as his leaving the Durselys was sort of last minute. He sat down on the stoop, feeling dejected.
"Well this is just perfect." Harry folded his arms on his knees and rested his chin. He couldn't use magic to unlock the door, he already was treading on thin ice with the Ministry for *supposedly* using magic outside of school 2nd year. But he certainly couldn't stay out here all night! Harry shivered; it was getting a little chilly. Right, decision made. He stood up and walked towards the front door, pulling out his wand as he did so. He pointed its tip at the knob.and.*click!* The doorknob twisted and, with a click, the door was pulled open. A very exhausted looking Arthur Weasley stood in the doorway, bright red hair visible even in the shadowy foyer.
"Harry?" he questioned, his eyes blinking, trying to get the short boy in front of him in focus. "Harry what God's name are you doing *here?* And at this hour? Come in, come in!" He motioned for Harry to enter and then dodged around him to help hoist up the trunk, with Hedwig's cage still poised on top.
"Why don't we set your things in the living room. We'll get them into Ron's room in the morning."
Harry led the way into the Weasley living room where his trunk was placed next to the large, worn, and slightly sagging couch. The coffee table in front of the couch was strewn with documents, newspaper clippings from The Daily Prophet, and some scrawled notes. A half-empty bottle of ink and a quill sat off to the side of the paper jumble. An empty cup of tea could also be seen, as well as a few ring-shaped stains strategically located on the wooden surface.
"Er.busy night?" questioned Harry, exposing a wry smile. Mr. Weasley stepped around him and sank into the threadbare couch with a sigh.
"*Another* busy night, you mean? Yes, I'm afraid so," replied Mr. Weasley, running a hand over his balding spot. "I got home late, but still had tons of paperwork to do. I was just finishing when I heard the Night Bus outside. It's a wonder the Muggles don't hear those damn things!" Mr. Weasley looked up into Harry's face with the look of a concerned father, which bought a pinprick of painful longing to Harry's heart. "What happened, Harry? We've been worried about you. Granted it's only been a week, but under the circumstances." his voice faded off, and then softly, "Why didn't you owl us? The boys and I would have come for you. As a matter of fact, we were planning on sending a note to your Aunt and Uncle, asking if you could come stay, within the next few days."
Harry was silent for a moment before answering. He didn't want Mr. Weasley to get too worried for fear that he would then tell Mrs. Weasley, and then god knows how she would react. "Well.it's nothing too serious." Harry began, choosing his words carefully, "it's just that they ignored me. Uncle Vernon didn't even nag me about my messy hair once," he smiled. Mr. Weasley didn't smile back, and Harry decided it was no use dodging around the point. "I couldn't stay at a place where I wasn't loved, liked, or even acknowledged. I can't stand to be alone right now," the 14-yr. old finished, feeling awkward. Mr. Weasley opened his mouth to as if to say something, but closed it. He merely gave a small smile, but started and grabbed his pocket watch. "Oh my, it's 1:00 a.m.; you must be beat. You can leave your things here and head up to Ron's room. Just shove him over and kip in his bed for the night; we haven't got the extra bed set up for you yet."
Harry nodded and walked over to his trunk. He pulled out a pair of plaid pajama bottoms and, after saying good night to Mr. Weasley, climbed up the stairs. Upon opening the door to his Ron's room, Harry was greeted by soft snoring coming from across the room. He stepped through the doorway and quietly closed the door behind him. He pulled off his black Converse sneakers and padded silently across to where the youngest Weasley boy lay. Harry smiled down at his best friend's sleeping form; long, lean body stretched over the whole bed, trademark flaming hair a pale bronze in the moonlight, wearing a white sleeveless T-shirt and violently orange boxers ("Canons Keeper"). Harry was surprised to see that he wasn't the only one whom puberty had hit. Even in the pale moonlight, Ron's muscular arms and broad shoulders could be seen. His T-shirt had been pulled up, slightly, exposing a bit of bare, stomach. A thin line of reddish hair could be seen running from Ron's navel and disappearing below the orange waistband of his boxers. Harry unzipped his jeans and replaced them with the pajama bottoms. He then leaned over and nudged Ron.
"Psst, Ron." No answer. Harry shook him a little harder. "C'mon mate, budge up there, will ya?" Ron grunted something unintelligible and rolled onto his side. Harry rolled his eyes and, with a grunt, shoved Ron as hard as he could.
"Bloody 'ell, Mum.jussa few more minutes," Ron mumbled, words slurred by sleep. He propped himself up on one elbow and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. He blinked a few times and looked confusedly around the room for the source of his awakening. Harry kneeled on the bed next to the lanky redhead, grinning.
"Hey Ron," he said quietly. Ron's bleary eyes turned to him, slightly unfocused.
"Oh hey Ha-a-a-a-arry," he said, failing to stifle a yawn. And with that he settled back down and closed his eyes.
"You don't mind if I sleep in your bed tonight, do you?" The raven-haired boy asked, lying down next to his companion. The spare bed hasn't been set up yet."
"Mmm-hmm," was the only answer he received. Still smiling to himself, Harry removed his glasses and placed them on the small, scratched bed side table, next to a pile of old parchment and a couple of picture frames.
Harry studied the pictures. They were well-shot candids, most likely taken by Colin Creevey (who told Harry he was doing a special project for the three of them. Harry suspected it had to do with pictures because Colin had found out, and was shocked, that Harry, Ron, and Hermione had very few pictures of each other). One frame held a picture of him, Ron, and Hermione sitting in the Gryffindor common room on the couch, Harry in the middle. They were all dozing. Ron was slouched with his feet on the table in front of them and an arm around Harry. Harry was lying on his side with his head in Ron's lap and legs hanging off the side of the couch. Hermione was on her side as well, with her head resting on Harry's hip and her arm resting on his thigh. Every time she exhaled a piece of hair fluttered in front of her lips. The other picture was of Ron and Harry playing chess. Harry watched himself get beaten *again* by Ron, who was laughing hysterically. Hermione could be seen in the background with a book in her lap and smiling at the two boys.
The bed was a bit small, but so was Harry. As he settled under the covers, a warm feeling spread throughout his body. For the first time in many days, he looked forward to tomorrow.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Sunshine poured in through the small window in Ron Weasley's room, turning his red hair ablaze. He woke up feeling extremely warm, and let out a gasp of surprise when he discovered the cause. He looked down to see a mop of unruly black hair resting on his chest, tickling his neck. His best friend, Harry Potter, was wrapped around him!
"What the-? Bloody hell Harry, wake up, I'm dying!" he said, pushing the smaller boy off of him. Harry rolled over with a grunt and began to stir. Ron pushed himself into a sitting position and folded his legs, watching Harry. Harry lay on his stomach a moment longer before sitting up as well.
"Mornin' Ron. Your bed is so comfy!" he grinned.
"Yeah, which reminds me. Why were *you* in it?" Ron questioned. He tried to put a stern, annoyed expression on his face, but failed at the look of his tousled and sleepy friend. Harry fumbled blindly for a moment before retrieving his glasses off the table.
"'Cus there was no place else for me to sleep. You don't expect poor old me to sleep on the couch, do you?" Harry made a pout. He found his face shoved into the pillow, as an answer. Ron unfolded his lanky frame and slid off the bed in search of clean clothes. He picked a pair of jeans off the floor and sniffed them. Throwing them aside with a grimace, he grabbed another pair from a chair and, after testing their odor, pulled them on. He then removed his T-shirt and yanked on a blue and yellow striped, Muggle Rugby shirt. He turned around to find Harry already dressed in a pair of dark brown corduroys and a wrinkled, white dress shirt with its sleeves rolled up, with a lopsided grin.
*Wow,* Ron thought,* he looks good. He's been through so much and he looks good. He looks pretty damn adorable, too.* Ron gave a gasp. *Where did that come from?* Harry must have seen the confused look on his face, because he questioned Ron about it.
"Hey man, you alright?" Ron snapped to attention. He grinned.
"Fine! I was.I was."
"Ron, Harry, Fred, George!" Mrs. Weasley's voice floated into Ron's bedroom. Harry was amazed how far her voice could carry. "Breakfast! The rest of us are waiting! Fred, George that door had better be open!"
"Perfect timing, I'm starved." Harry rubbed his stomach. He turned back to Ron. "You were saying something, Ron?"
*Damn,* Ron thought. "Er, yeah. I.was.," and then he caught the look in Harry's face. His large emerald eyes were full of quiet questioning, and something else that Ron couldn't quite grasp. He moved toward Harry, his 6'2 inches dwarfing Harry's 5'5 inches. He took in the younger boy standing in front of him. *He looks so young, but yet so old. But he looks sad, too. What he must have been going through these past few days.* "I was just going to say that I'm *really* glad you're here, Harry." And with that Ron enveloped Harry in a tight hug. Harry, though a little taken aback, took in its warmth and rested his head against Ron's chest (which wasn't hard, seeing as his head pretty came just below Ron's chin).
"Boys! Are you coming? Fred, George are you up yet?" Harry and Ron pulled away, with hands stuffed in pockets and an awkward shuffling of feet. Ron reached out and ruffled Harry's raven tresses.
"C'mon shrimp," he laughed, "let's see if you're as fast on the ground as you are in the air." Ron shoved Harry onto the bed and bolted out of the room.
"Hey!" Harry laughed, regaining his footing and following after the red head. *Yes, this is where I belong. Maybe I won't have as hard a time coping with last year than I thought.*
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
No, this won't be the end. Although, frankly, I have no clue where this story is going, but we'll find out when we get there. Maybe I should leave it as is. What do you think? Does it have a fighting chance? A future? A wife, kids, and a house? (Crickets chirp as confused looks are exchanged). Please review!!! This encourages me to continue. Don't forget to look for my next installation of "A Winter's Tale" in the Lord of the Rings section! I love you all!!!!
A/N: Yay, ch. 2 is here!!! Thank you again to all who reviewed, you are my oxygen. Anyway.like I said before, this may or may not be slash. It depends on how you look at it. When I thought it up, I felt that it was kinda slashy, but that's just me. But if you're a homophobe then just to be on the safe side, don't bother reading this. GO AWAY!!! Lol, j/k. Seriously though, you've been warned, so don't send me hate mail. As always reviews are needed, wanted, desired. Helpful criticism is OK as long as we don't get too picky. Flames will be used to light my cigarettes.wait a tick.I don't smoke! Oh well. Enjoy the story anyway.
****Harry is 14 right now b/c he went to the Weasleys' early. His birthday is July 31st, I believe, and so..well..he hasn't had it yet. OK, then.
Ronweasley1029: As always, thank you for the generous review of ch. 1. Reviews like yours are my reasons for writing. You make me feel so special! Once again, this one's for you! *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* "Sweetness" ch. 2: Late Night or Orange Boxers by: Kate
The large purple bus skidded to a stop, causing all the beds to slide at least a foot forward. Harry, himself, ended up flying backward and landing on the hardwood floor with a thump.
"Ottery St. Catchpole, the Weasleys!" Stan formally announced.
"Great," Harry mumbled grumpily, clinging to the bed-frame as he hauled himself up. Stan assisted Harry in carrying his trunk, with Hedwig's cage balanced nicely on top, to the Weasleys' front doorstep.
"Well, so long 'Arry! 'Member, if y'ever need to t'get anywheres, s'long as it's on land, the Night Bus is at cho service." Stan proudly puffed out his chest at the last bit. He grinned and waved good-bye to Harry (not without one last look at his scar of course) and left him standing alone on the doorstep. The bus, whose doors slammed shut behind Stan, was gone with another loud bang.
Harry glanced down at Hedwig and, upon the discovery that she was asleep, became annoyed. "Sure, she sleeps while I'm wondering all over the bloody country." he grumbled. However, he had a more important problem than lack of sleep. As he turned to face the front door, an unpleasant thought crept into his mind. The Weasleys most likely locked their doors at night. And Harry hadn't had a chance to owl them, informing them of his arrival, seeing as his leaving the Durselys was sort of last minute. He sat down on the stoop, feeling dejected.
"Well this is just perfect." Harry folded his arms on his knees and rested his chin. He couldn't use magic to unlock the door, he already was treading on thin ice with the Ministry for *supposedly* using magic outside of school 2nd year. But he certainly couldn't stay out here all night! Harry shivered; it was getting a little chilly. Right, decision made. He stood up and walked towards the front door, pulling out his wand as he did so. He pointed its tip at the knob.and.*click!* The doorknob twisted and, with a click, the door was pulled open. A very exhausted looking Arthur Weasley stood in the doorway, bright red hair visible even in the shadowy foyer.
"Harry?" he questioned, his eyes blinking, trying to get the short boy in front of him in focus. "Harry what God's name are you doing *here?* And at this hour? Come in, come in!" He motioned for Harry to enter and then dodged around him to help hoist up the trunk, with Hedwig's cage still poised on top.
"Why don't we set your things in the living room. We'll get them into Ron's room in the morning."
Harry led the way into the Weasley living room where his trunk was placed next to the large, worn, and slightly sagging couch. The coffee table in front of the couch was strewn with documents, newspaper clippings from The Daily Prophet, and some scrawled notes. A half-empty bottle of ink and a quill sat off to the side of the paper jumble. An empty cup of tea could also be seen, as well as a few ring-shaped stains strategically located on the wooden surface.
"Er.busy night?" questioned Harry, exposing a wry smile. Mr. Weasley stepped around him and sank into the threadbare couch with a sigh.
"*Another* busy night, you mean? Yes, I'm afraid so," replied Mr. Weasley, running a hand over his balding spot. "I got home late, but still had tons of paperwork to do. I was just finishing when I heard the Night Bus outside. It's a wonder the Muggles don't hear those damn things!" Mr. Weasley looked up into Harry's face with the look of a concerned father, which bought a pinprick of painful longing to Harry's heart. "What happened, Harry? We've been worried about you. Granted it's only been a week, but under the circumstances." his voice faded off, and then softly, "Why didn't you owl us? The boys and I would have come for you. As a matter of fact, we were planning on sending a note to your Aunt and Uncle, asking if you could come stay, within the next few days."
Harry was silent for a moment before answering. He didn't want Mr. Weasley to get too worried for fear that he would then tell Mrs. Weasley, and then god knows how she would react. "Well.it's nothing too serious." Harry began, choosing his words carefully, "it's just that they ignored me. Uncle Vernon didn't even nag me about my messy hair once," he smiled. Mr. Weasley didn't smile back, and Harry decided it was no use dodging around the point. "I couldn't stay at a place where I wasn't loved, liked, or even acknowledged. I can't stand to be alone right now," the 14-yr. old finished, feeling awkward. Mr. Weasley opened his mouth to as if to say something, but closed it. He merely gave a small smile, but started and grabbed his pocket watch. "Oh my, it's 1:00 a.m.; you must be beat. You can leave your things here and head up to Ron's room. Just shove him over and kip in his bed for the night; we haven't got the extra bed set up for you yet."
Harry nodded and walked over to his trunk. He pulled out a pair of plaid pajama bottoms and, after saying good night to Mr. Weasley, climbed up the stairs. Upon opening the door to his Ron's room, Harry was greeted by soft snoring coming from across the room. He stepped through the doorway and quietly closed the door behind him. He pulled off his black Converse sneakers and padded silently across to where the youngest Weasley boy lay. Harry smiled down at his best friend's sleeping form; long, lean body stretched over the whole bed, trademark flaming hair a pale bronze in the moonlight, wearing a white sleeveless T-shirt and violently orange boxers ("Canons Keeper"). Harry was surprised to see that he wasn't the only one whom puberty had hit. Even in the pale moonlight, Ron's muscular arms and broad shoulders could be seen. His T-shirt had been pulled up, slightly, exposing a bit of bare, stomach. A thin line of reddish hair could be seen running from Ron's navel and disappearing below the orange waistband of his boxers. Harry unzipped his jeans and replaced them with the pajama bottoms. He then leaned over and nudged Ron.
"Psst, Ron." No answer. Harry shook him a little harder. "C'mon mate, budge up there, will ya?" Ron grunted something unintelligible and rolled onto his side. Harry rolled his eyes and, with a grunt, shoved Ron as hard as he could.
"Bloody 'ell, Mum.jussa few more minutes," Ron mumbled, words slurred by sleep. He propped himself up on one elbow and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. He blinked a few times and looked confusedly around the room for the source of his awakening. Harry kneeled on the bed next to the lanky redhead, grinning.
"Hey Ron," he said quietly. Ron's bleary eyes turned to him, slightly unfocused.
"Oh hey Ha-a-a-a-arry," he said, failing to stifle a yawn. And with that he settled back down and closed his eyes.
"You don't mind if I sleep in your bed tonight, do you?" The raven-haired boy asked, lying down next to his companion. The spare bed hasn't been set up yet."
"Mmm-hmm," was the only answer he received. Still smiling to himself, Harry removed his glasses and placed them on the small, scratched bed side table, next to a pile of old parchment and a couple of picture frames.
Harry studied the pictures. They were well-shot candids, most likely taken by Colin Creevey (who told Harry he was doing a special project for the three of them. Harry suspected it had to do with pictures because Colin had found out, and was shocked, that Harry, Ron, and Hermione had very few pictures of each other). One frame held a picture of him, Ron, and Hermione sitting in the Gryffindor common room on the couch, Harry in the middle. They were all dozing. Ron was slouched with his feet on the table in front of them and an arm around Harry. Harry was lying on his side with his head in Ron's lap and legs hanging off the side of the couch. Hermione was on her side as well, with her head resting on Harry's hip and her arm resting on his thigh. Every time she exhaled a piece of hair fluttered in front of her lips. The other picture was of Ron and Harry playing chess. Harry watched himself get beaten *again* by Ron, who was laughing hysterically. Hermione could be seen in the background with a book in her lap and smiling at the two boys.
The bed was a bit small, but so was Harry. As he settled under the covers, a warm feeling spread throughout his body. For the first time in many days, he looked forward to tomorrow.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Sunshine poured in through the small window in Ron Weasley's room, turning his red hair ablaze. He woke up feeling extremely warm, and let out a gasp of surprise when he discovered the cause. He looked down to see a mop of unruly black hair resting on his chest, tickling his neck. His best friend, Harry Potter, was wrapped around him!
"What the-? Bloody hell Harry, wake up, I'm dying!" he said, pushing the smaller boy off of him. Harry rolled over with a grunt and began to stir. Ron pushed himself into a sitting position and folded his legs, watching Harry. Harry lay on his stomach a moment longer before sitting up as well.
"Mornin' Ron. Your bed is so comfy!" he grinned.
"Yeah, which reminds me. Why were *you* in it?" Ron questioned. He tried to put a stern, annoyed expression on his face, but failed at the look of his tousled and sleepy friend. Harry fumbled blindly for a moment before retrieving his glasses off the table.
"'Cus there was no place else for me to sleep. You don't expect poor old me to sleep on the couch, do you?" Harry made a pout. He found his face shoved into the pillow, as an answer. Ron unfolded his lanky frame and slid off the bed in search of clean clothes. He picked a pair of jeans off the floor and sniffed them. Throwing them aside with a grimace, he grabbed another pair from a chair and, after testing their odor, pulled them on. He then removed his T-shirt and yanked on a blue and yellow striped, Muggle Rugby shirt. He turned around to find Harry already dressed in a pair of dark brown corduroys and a wrinkled, white dress shirt with its sleeves rolled up, with a lopsided grin.
*Wow,* Ron thought,* he looks good. He's been through so much and he looks good. He looks pretty damn adorable, too.* Ron gave a gasp. *Where did that come from?* Harry must have seen the confused look on his face, because he questioned Ron about it.
"Hey man, you alright?" Ron snapped to attention. He grinned.
"Fine! I was.I was."
"Ron, Harry, Fred, George!" Mrs. Weasley's voice floated into Ron's bedroom. Harry was amazed how far her voice could carry. "Breakfast! The rest of us are waiting! Fred, George that door had better be open!"
"Perfect timing, I'm starved." Harry rubbed his stomach. He turned back to Ron. "You were saying something, Ron?"
*Damn,* Ron thought. "Er, yeah. I.was.," and then he caught the look in Harry's face. His large emerald eyes were full of quiet questioning, and something else that Ron couldn't quite grasp. He moved toward Harry, his 6'2 inches dwarfing Harry's 5'5 inches. He took in the younger boy standing in front of him. *He looks so young, but yet so old. But he looks sad, too. What he must have been going through these past few days.* "I was just going to say that I'm *really* glad you're here, Harry." And with that Ron enveloped Harry in a tight hug. Harry, though a little taken aback, took in its warmth and rested his head against Ron's chest (which wasn't hard, seeing as his head pretty came just below Ron's chin).
"Boys! Are you coming? Fred, George are you up yet?" Harry and Ron pulled away, with hands stuffed in pockets and an awkward shuffling of feet. Ron reached out and ruffled Harry's raven tresses.
"C'mon shrimp," he laughed, "let's see if you're as fast on the ground as you are in the air." Ron shoved Harry onto the bed and bolted out of the room.
"Hey!" Harry laughed, regaining his footing and following after the red head. *Yes, this is where I belong. Maybe I won't have as hard a time coping with last year than I thought.*
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
No, this won't be the end. Although, frankly, I have no clue where this story is going, but we'll find out when we get there. Maybe I should leave it as is. What do you think? Does it have a fighting chance? A future? A wife, kids, and a house? (Crickets chirp as confused looks are exchanged). Please review!!! This encourages me to continue. Don't forget to look for my next installation of "A Winter's Tale" in the Lord of the Rings section! I love you all!!!!