[Insert standard disclaimer here] 

This fic was originally destined to be only 3 chapters long, but due to a large volume of requests (and some miscommunications on my part), I'm extending it. Please bear with any glaring inconsistencies, I'm trying to work around them without making all the characters seem like total pricks. 

Chapter 4

The first thing Harry saw when he opened his eyes was a blurry patch of what appeared to be someone's flaming red hair.  He blinked and reached for his glasses.  It couldn't be...

"Ron?"

Ron stirred and rolled over to face his friend.  "Good morning Harry."

"Ron, what are you doing here?"   

"I don't really know.  I mean, I know it's forward of me-"

"I should say so."

"-But I have to tell you something."

Harry sighed and sat up, leaning back against the headboard with the blankets pulled up over his knees.  Ron took a moment to admire the mess of black hair adorning Harry's delicate yet muscular body.  Emerald eyes flashed at him. 

"Well, go ahead, but get out of my bed first."

Ron was slightly hurt by the edge on Harry's voice.  "What's wrong?"

"I'll explain if you explain."

Ron crawled out from under the covers and seated himself opposite Harry, who marveled inwardly that Ron could look so amazing first thing in the morning.  His coppery hair was tousled and unkempt in the most irresistible way, the exact way Harry had always thought it would look after someone's hands had run through it several times.  His hands fairly itched to feel the soft strands slide between his fingers, to explore the gentle curves around his jaw line and to find out if the patch of creamy skin revealed at the open neck of Ron's pajamas was as soft as it looked. 

"Well, I was with Draco last night, and we were talking about you and me and that fight we had yesterday, and I realized... Harry..." his voice had gotten slightly husky.  "I'm in love with you."


Harry didn't move. 

"Harry, did you hear me?  I'm in love-"

"I heard you."  Silence for a moment.  And then, "Ron, who do you think you are?"

"What?"  This was not going to plan at all.

"Who do you think you are?  You sleep with my ex-boyfriend even though you know I'm still hurting from the relationship, you insult me to my face, and then you think you can just crawl into my bed that night and everything's okay because you happen to be in love with me?"

"But Harry, I..."

"You what?  You're sorry?  You made a terrible mistake?  You didn't mean for this to happen and if you could go back and do it over you promise you wouldn't do it this way?  I've heard it before, Ron."

"You've left me with nothing to say, Harry."  Ron's voice was held a mixture of bitterness and regret.  "All the things I was going to tell you have been ruled invalid."

"You can't understand a moment of loss because, hey, you're the fabulous Ron Weasley, already the luckiest boy in the world.  You've got everything, Ron.  You're intelligent, sexy, funny as hell, you've got a wonderful family that accepts you no matter what, and you're the best friend I could ever wish for.  You're incredibly fortunate." 

"God, Harry..."

"Not only that, but everyone, and I do mean everyone, wants you."

"Don't joke with me now, Harry."

"I'm not joking.  Do you have any idea how widely admired you are?  I could name half a dozen people who have come up to me over the years, wondering if you're interested or if I could introduce you or something."

"That's ridiculous."

"But it's true."  Harry looked at his hands.  "You don't realize how much people want you.  I mean, has anyone ever refused you?"

"Well, there was that girl, Fleur something in the fourth year..."

"Ron, she's a fucking veela.  I'm talking seriously.  Has there ever been anyone who has said no to you?"


"Harry, what's your point?"

"My point is that romantically speaking you've always had everyone you've wanted."

"So?"

"So?  So you can't treat me like this.  You can't go around sleeping with people and then telling other people you love them."  Harry sighed and blinked, a ragged edge to his voice.  "Ron, you mean the world to me, but I can't let you treat me like this.  I know it wasn't intentional... I know you and I know you wouldn't do something like that.  But we can't start a relationship like this, not with one, if not both, of us already in pain."

"So what are you saying?"  A gravelly tone crept into the bottom of Ron's voice. 

"I'm saying I need some time.  Are you forgetting how we fought yesterday?  I can't let us being what is supposed to be a loving, caring relationship by establishing a pattern of fighting and fixing it by crawling into each others' beds.  We're only going to get hurt." 

There was a silence as Ron digested his friend's words.  "God," he began.  "I don't know what to say.  I wish I could fix this, Harry, but I wouldn't know how to begin.  I'm sorry about the things I said to you yesterday- they were completely unfair and uncalled for.  You were right about everything.   I'm sorry."

"It's alright.  I know you were angry, and you had every right to be.  But I can't just forgive and forget right away.  I need time."

"All right.  But... do you know how much time?"

Harry looked at him, thrown by such a seemingly callous question. 

"What I mean is," said Ron, "that I am in love with you Harry, and I'm willing to wait for you until the end of time as long as I know that I'm not waiting in vain.  I know you're unhappy now, but do you think you could ever want to be with me?"

Harry sighed.  "I'm not sure yet.  You're amazing, Ron, and I'm fairly sure I'm in love with you too, but I guess I'm just afraid of getting hurt and losing you completely.  I don't want to rush into this... there's too much at stake.  I just need some time to think about this, and I think you should also take some time and really consider.  I want to be sure it's the right thing.  Do you understand?"  Tears clung to the edge of Harry's voice.  He swallowed, willing the lump in his throat to dissolve. 

Ron nodded silently.  He looked at his hands, blinking hard.

"All right.  Um... I need to take a shower."  Harry fairly flew out of the room toward the showers, leaving Ron alone in the dormitory. 


***      *            *            *            *            *            *            *

Several weeks later:

Draco stood alone under a tree by the lake, watching the water ripple gently as the giant squid approached the surface, seemed to think better of it, and sank again.  A late afternoon breeze ruffled his golden hair.  Gray eyes were emotionless, their owner thousands of miles away, thinking. 

Draco was unsure of whether he had really done the right thing by letting Weasley get away.  Usually he forgot about a fling within a few days, if that.  But Weas- er- Ron- was different.  His eyes still flew to the redhead's face every time he walked into a room, and he still had to pay attention to where he was looking to make sure that no one caught him staring at a certain tall, brown-eyed boy at the Gryffindor table. 

He had caught himself watching Ron again yesterday, during dinner, admiring the way his large, expressive hands moved when he talked.  It was as though he was forming the words in the air, sculpting them into being as he spoke.  He had only realized that he was staring when Ron looked over at him.  Their eyes had locked for a moment, and a strange energy had been exchanged in their glance.  Draco was still trying to understand what it meant. 

And today, during Potions.  Ron was shredding four-leaf clovers, talking about something with Hermione.  Draco was also shredding clovers, although somewhat absently- his attention was occupied by the red-haired boy across the room.  Ron's laugh rang out suddenly across the dungeon; Draco felt a catch somewhere in his torso when he saw the crooked, mischievous smile and the daring light in Ron's eyes.  It was only a moment before Professor Snape swooped down to silence him.  A few minutes later, as Ron turned to ask Seamus and Harry a question, his eyes had caught Draco's.  This time it wasn't just a strange energy that passed between them; a bolt of electricity seemed to leap across the room from Ron to Draco and back again.  He could see Ron catch his breath and turn quickly back to his cauldron as he did the same.

Perhaps... no. Draco stopped the thought before it had the chance to form fully in his mind.  And anyway, wasn't Ron with Harry now?  They were theoretically in love with each other, although Draco had detected none of the usual signs of a relationship between them.  They weren't even working together in classes.  If anything, in fact, they seemed almost more distant than usual.  Not hugely so, but it was noticeable to the keen observer.  Had something happened?  Had something- Draco smirked- not happened?  Perhaps Draco had been wrong in thinking that Harry was in love with Ron.  Perhaps... perhaps he had been wrong about Ron too...

Draco was shaken from his reverie by the sound of approaching footsteps.  He turned to see Ron moving nervously across the grass, coming toward the tree.  He stopped a few feet from his target. 

"Hi," he said.


"Hello, Ron." 

They stood in silence for a moment.  Then Draco spoke. 

"You're awfully quiet for someone who is obviously here on a mission," he said.

"Well, I was trying to think of how to begin, but I don't know how."

"Ah.  Is there any way I can help?" 

"Could you maybe furnish some conversation for a couple of minutes?"

"Certainly."  A pause.  "So, what's going on with you and Harry?" 

Ron was taken aback by Draco's ability to deliver such a weighted question as though it were perfectly harmless.  He looked at the blond's face more closely, trying to read some sort of emotion in it but coming up empty.

"Nothing." 

It was Draco's turn to be taken aback.  "But I though you two were in love."

"Theoretically, yes." 

A blond eyebrow raised itself artfully.

"You remember that last night we were together?" 

Draco sighed inwardly at the memory.  Never before had he had such deliciously wonderful sex.  There was something about those brown eyes and sure hands that made it truly magical.  "Yes, I do, in fact."

"Well, I talked to Harry the next morning.  He said that he was in love with me, but that he's afraid of losing our friendship and getting hurt, which I have to respect.  He told me that he needed time to make up his mind."

"Has he?"

Ron looked at his feet and swallowed.  "He has.  Last night.  He told me that he couldn't do it, that we would hurt each other too much, that it wasn't worth risking our friendship, and that he... he said that he loves someone else."

"I'm sorry."


"It's alright.  He's right... we would be awful for each other in the long run.  And I... I have some things I need to sort out anyway."  Ron looked up at Draco, their eyes meeting.  The same hot electricity passed between them, and suddenly Draco knew what it meant.  He stepped forward and took Ron's hands.  Ron gasped, but before he could say anything or pull away, Draco's lips were pressing into his, feeling the familiarity and yet a newness that had not been there before.  Ron suddenly found himself kissing the other boy back, tasting him again, feeling renewal wash through him accompanied by another, less familiar but more wonderful feeling.  Their lips were not dueling, nor were they exploring.  They were simply expressing something that they could not understand but wanted to know more about.  It was a truly magnificent kiss.

Before he knew what he was doing, Ron pulled back and looked Draco in the eyes. 

"I love you," he said. 

*          *            *            *            *

This is when I torture you all by refusing to tell what Draco says until the next chapter. *gleeful chuckle*