A/N- Hello, my fellow artists! Here, I have begun the angst-filled novel of love and desire. I do hope that none will be offended by the topic of this story. I just feel that Ron and Harry ought to be together somehow. I don't know. Well, enjoy! love forever, Ebony LaShalter

Maybe when your hair gets darker
Maybe when your eyes get wide
Maybe when the walls are smaller
There will be more space
And maybe when I'm not so tired
Maybe you can step inside
Maybe when I look for things that I can't replace...
- from Something Corporate, Punk Rock Princess

It was a warm, Summer night at the Burrow. Harry Potter lay awake on the spare cot the Weasleys had set up for him. He was so happy to be here, away from the Dursleys, who'd made no objections to booting him out of their house at the beginning of the Summer. Now, the fifteen-year old stared up at the bright, full moon, sending its luminescent rays into the small, Chudley Cannons poster-lined room.
In the bed across from him, lay Ron Weasley, sound asleep. Sound asleep and beautiful, Harry observed, letting his eyes fall upon his friend. Beautiful wasn't really a new word for Harry to call Ron, for he'd thought it best described him for several years now. It was Ron's overall manner that would capture Harry's attention most often.
Just now, at this very moment, the way Ron looked as he slept was an image you couldn't draw your eyes from too quickly. Harry's mouth opened in awe as he took in Ron's appearence. Oh, everything was so perfect- even the imperfections about him! The way his ginger hair flopped over his forehead so messily, yet so delicately. The way his freckles aligned across his nose and onto his cheeks in a spontanious order. The way his pink, velvety lips parted slightly as he took in small breaths. The way his chest moved up and down with each breath, and the moonlight shined exquisitly upon his face, making his pale skin glow. Harry couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to run his fingers through that fire-coloured hair, or to touch those pouty, rosey lips; to kiss those lips- he'd even thought of that from time to time! Indeed, he was thinking of it now. Now, he wanted more than ever to show this adorable person that he would always be there to protect him, that he would stand there as more than just a friend if Ron asked him to, that he....loved him.
He'd been staring upon his friend's figure for the past hour now, and suddenly, as he finally drew his eyes away, he heard Ron stirring in his bed. He could sense the red-head sitting up in his bed, then he heard:

Harry slowly faced his friend again. Ron's hazel eyes met his in confusion.
What are you doing up? If it was me, I didn't mean to wake you. I talk in my sleep sometimes. Did that do it? Ron's expression was so concerned.
No, it wasn't you. Harry replied softly.
Then why were you looking at me?
Harry's heart leapt. You knew I was watching you?
Ron shook his head. I kind of sensed it. So, you were? Ron looked curious.
Harry gulped, trying to think of an excuse. I was worried that the moon was too bright for you and you'd wake up, that's all. What kind of an excuse was that?!
Ron's face fell slightly. Then it lifted. You were worried about me?
Harry didn't know what to say. He was caught. He just nodded.
Thanks. You do far too much of that, though. Ron beamed. He always felt so protected and cared for when his friend was there. In a way, Harry had always been his idol- this brave, intelligent boy who always looked out of the corner of his eye to see if Ron was okay. Ron sighed. He felt so special when Harry went out of his way just to look at him, and he wasn't really sure why. He only knew that one day, he'd have to return the favor.
Harry moved to lay down again, but his shoulders and back did not agree as waves of pain shot through them. He'd been sitting in a bad position for the last hour, staring at Ron, and now his body ached terribly. He tried to stifle a whimper and flinched in pain.
Ron saw this and his face became worried again. Are you all right, Harry? he asked, getting up and moving closer to the raven-haired boy.
I'll be fine. Harry replied, trying to lay down again, but his body seemed to scream at him, and hissed in even more pain than before.
Oh, Harry, don't do that. Your muscles are all tense. Ron advised. Then, he offered thoughtfully, Would you like me to massage your back for you? It'll help.
Massage from you? Oh, yes, Ron, Harry thought, but said instead, Anything that'll help.
Without a word, Ron moved behind Harry and gently started to carress his shoulders.
Harry clenched his teeth together and squeezed his eyes shut, feeling sudden pleasure from Ron's careful ministrations. Wave after wave of delight ran through is body as he was very aware of Ron's soft hands, firmly rubbing his skin. After loosening the muscles in his shoulders, Ron's hands moved to Harry's upper back, massaging it so delicately with his strong hands. That practically overdid it for Harry's nervous system, causing his entire body to react with such ecstacy at the feeling of Ron's lean fingers hitting the exact right spot, one that Harry found most sensitive. And, feeling as though his mind would explode, his eyes rolled back in his head and, before he could catch himself, a small moan escaped from his lips, and he leaned into Ron's hands.
Ron paused for a moment, taking in the longing sound with surprise. He had been looking at the back of Harry's neck, acknolaging the small, dark hairs that traveled down it, and admiring his velvety, silk-smooth skin that he'd never seen, let alone touched before. It was an odd experience, and it caused a strange, fluttery feeling in his stomach that he'd never felt before.
Now, hearing this moan, this soft, almost seductive sound, Ron's heart leapt in his chest, and he hesitated, wondering what to do. After a moment, he continued to rub the same spot on Harry's back, this time, harder. Harry suddenly arched his back and let out a second cry of pleasure, this time, louder.
Ron stiffened like a board. He liked that sound even better than the first, and it frightened him- all the feelings rushing through him- shock, amazement, admiration, love and....lust. The last feeling scared him the most, and he knew he had to stop this right away before he even thought about doing something to his best friend.
He tried to speak, Uh....Feeling better? He asked, cracking his voice on .
Harry suddenly felt cold and disappointed when Ron's warm fingers left his skin. He nodded shakily. Yeah, Ron. Much.
Ron said softly, getting up from Harry's cot and moving to his own bed. He slid under the covers, feeling his hands trembling. he whispered.
Harry answered, pulling his covers up to his chin, when he suddenly realized the extreme heat in between his legs. He looked down, seeing a slight buldge in his boxer shorts and groaned. Well, at least Ron hadn't seen it.
Ron wasn't doing much better than Harry. He'd fallen into dreams quickly, but even quicker awakened, panting with wide eyes. His dream- oh, it had been so horrible, or was the word, wonderful? He wasn't sure.
He'd dreamt that he was dashing through the halls of Hogwarts, holding onto Harry's hand. Harry was trying to protect him, as usual, and as the two turned a corner, Harry agressively pulled Ron to him, and kissed him passionately. Ron didn't understand why he wasn't moving away, and why he was pulling Harry closer to him. He just wanted to. When they parted, Ron whispered, I love you, Harry.
Ron awoke with a start, breathing heavily. Now, he lay there, thinking. Do I love him?, Ron pondered. He thought about the mental question for a while, then finally made up his mind: there was no one in the world he'd possibly love more than Harry. Knowing that, he wondered what Harry thought of him. That incident before, with Harry's sweet moans, that wasn't anything, was it? Ron peeked over at Harry, who lay asleep so peacefully. A shy grin was on his lips. Ron sighed. He hoped it meant something.

A/N- Should I continue? In my opinion, this started weirdly, but it should get better soon.