notes: General copyright crap applies; I don't own these characters, but I
wrote the story all by myself so YOU CAN'T HAVE IT. But please review!!
It's my first HP fic, and the first fic I've ever posted here! *beams*
Oh, and just a word of advice: don't picture Harry and Ron as Daniel Radcliffe and Rupert Grint unless you find them both 'sexy-licious.'. I personally don't, so picturing Rupert/Daniel just creeps me out. I picture Ron and Harry in anime style. That makes it seem more attractive.
THIS STORY IS SLASH, MEANING IT INVOLVES A MALE/MALE RELATIONSHIP. IF YOU DON'T LIKE THAT KIND OF STUFF, YOU CAN TURN BACK NOW. Or you can read it and flame me, thereby making a complete jerk of yourself. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ron's heart beat faster than it ever had. He'd had dozens of terrifying adventures, run-ins with giant spiders, Whomping Willows, and escaped prisoners from Azkaban, but he had never been this apprehensive. He could feel his freckled cheeks reddening. Nervously stroking his bare arm, he finally worked up enough courage to throw back the crimson bed curtains of the Gryffindor bunk.
The moonlight entering through a nearby window illuminated the face of the boy on the bed, sprawled on his back under his bed covers.
Ron's eyes widened. "Harry. . ." he whispered to himself. He had no idea that his best friend could look that beautiful.
This was an uncommonly bold course of action for Ron, but he felt that he couldn't repress his feelings much longer. He gingerly climbed onto Harry's bed and drew the bed curtains around them.
Ron held his breath as Harry stirred. He prayed with all his might that Harry wouldn't wake up.
Cautiously, he turned down Harry's bed covers. The motionless form of his sleeping friend was covered with loose flannel pyjamas.
Ron took a deep breath, and proceeded to unbutton Harry's nightshirt. His fingers fumbled on the tiny buttons.
When finally all the buttons had been undone, Ron opened the shirt and surveyed the fruit of his labors. The sleeping boy's chest slowly rose and fell. For many moments, Ron blissfully watched and listened to the rhythmic breathing. . . Until he finally ventured to extend a finger and touch it to Harry's warm flesh.
All Harry did in response was twitch, so Ron proceeded to rest his palm on Harry's stomach. Grateful that he received no reaction, he leaned forward and gradually laid his own bare chest against Harry's. He could feel the warm, steady breath of his friend on the top of his head.
He stroked Harry's shoulder. He was in pure ecstasy. Nothing he could imagine could possibly surpass this feeling he had. It was. . . . It was unlike anything he had ever felt before. Sure, he had touched Harry before, but not like this. He had never felt Harry's heart beating against his cheek. He had never felt Harry's warm, naked skin against his own. Nothing in the world could feel this marvelous.
Except. . . .
Ron lifted his head from Harry's chest and gazed at the sleeping boy. He touched the boy's scar with his fingertips. This legendary boy was his best friend, but Ron couldn't help but to desire just a little more.
Only a little.
His fingers gradually glided down Harry's face, until stopping just to the side of his mouth.
"Harry," Ron pleaded in a whisper, primarily to himself, "please don't wake up."
Timidly, slowly, bashfully, he leaned his face towards Harry's. . . .
"Ron??" Harry whispered in surprise, his radiant green eyes open.
Ron leapt back. "When did you wake up?!" he hissed indignantly.
Harry sat up, investigating the situation. The two of them on his bed, Ron blushing furiously, neither of them wearing a shirt. . .
He began putting his shirt back on, and smiled at his red-haired, red- cheeked best friend.
"A bit too soon, it seems."
~~~END~~~
I'm sorry about the sucky ending. I meant for them to kiss. But it just didn't make sense that after all that, Harry wouldn't wake up. Darn me and my logic! Now I feel disappointed. . . ~Choco
Oh, and just a word of advice: don't picture Harry and Ron as Daniel Radcliffe and Rupert Grint unless you find them both 'sexy-licious.'. I personally don't, so picturing Rupert/Daniel just creeps me out. I picture Ron and Harry in anime style. That makes it seem more attractive.
THIS STORY IS SLASH, MEANING IT INVOLVES A MALE/MALE RELATIONSHIP. IF YOU DON'T LIKE THAT KIND OF STUFF, YOU CAN TURN BACK NOW. Or you can read it and flame me, thereby making a complete jerk of yourself. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ron's heart beat faster than it ever had. He'd had dozens of terrifying adventures, run-ins with giant spiders, Whomping Willows, and escaped prisoners from Azkaban, but he had never been this apprehensive. He could feel his freckled cheeks reddening. Nervously stroking his bare arm, he finally worked up enough courage to throw back the crimson bed curtains of the Gryffindor bunk.
The moonlight entering through a nearby window illuminated the face of the boy on the bed, sprawled on his back under his bed covers.
Ron's eyes widened. "Harry. . ." he whispered to himself. He had no idea that his best friend could look that beautiful.
This was an uncommonly bold course of action for Ron, but he felt that he couldn't repress his feelings much longer. He gingerly climbed onto Harry's bed and drew the bed curtains around them.
Ron held his breath as Harry stirred. He prayed with all his might that Harry wouldn't wake up.
Cautiously, he turned down Harry's bed covers. The motionless form of his sleeping friend was covered with loose flannel pyjamas.
Ron took a deep breath, and proceeded to unbutton Harry's nightshirt. His fingers fumbled on the tiny buttons.
When finally all the buttons had been undone, Ron opened the shirt and surveyed the fruit of his labors. The sleeping boy's chest slowly rose and fell. For many moments, Ron blissfully watched and listened to the rhythmic breathing. . . Until he finally ventured to extend a finger and touch it to Harry's warm flesh.
All Harry did in response was twitch, so Ron proceeded to rest his palm on Harry's stomach. Grateful that he received no reaction, he leaned forward and gradually laid his own bare chest against Harry's. He could feel the warm, steady breath of his friend on the top of his head.
He stroked Harry's shoulder. He was in pure ecstasy. Nothing he could imagine could possibly surpass this feeling he had. It was. . . . It was unlike anything he had ever felt before. Sure, he had touched Harry before, but not like this. He had never felt Harry's heart beating against his cheek. He had never felt Harry's warm, naked skin against his own. Nothing in the world could feel this marvelous.
Except. . . .
Ron lifted his head from Harry's chest and gazed at the sleeping boy. He touched the boy's scar with his fingertips. This legendary boy was his best friend, but Ron couldn't help but to desire just a little more.
Only a little.
His fingers gradually glided down Harry's face, until stopping just to the side of his mouth.
"Harry," Ron pleaded in a whisper, primarily to himself, "please don't wake up."
Timidly, slowly, bashfully, he leaned his face towards Harry's. . . .
"Ron??" Harry whispered in surprise, his radiant green eyes open.
Ron leapt back. "When did you wake up?!" he hissed indignantly.
Harry sat up, investigating the situation. The two of them on his bed, Ron blushing furiously, neither of them wearing a shirt. . .
He began putting his shirt back on, and smiled at his red-haired, red- cheeked best friend.
"A bit too soon, it seems."
~~~END~~~
I'm sorry about the sucky ending. I meant for them to kiss. But it just didn't make sense that after all that, Harry wouldn't wake up. Darn me and my logic! Now I feel disappointed. . . ~Choco