Chapter Seven
A Private Celebration
When he went inside he found Ron sitting at the table munching a Cauldron Cake and opening a bottle of butter beer. He was still grinning. Harry noticed the towel loosely draped over his lap in an untidy and slightly immodest sort of way. He walked to the table, picking up a Pumpkin Pasty, and sat down across from him.
"We've got to have a celebration of our own; for Hermione, I mean," Ron said after washing down the last of his Cauldron Cake with a sip of butter beer.
"Okay," Harry replied. His attention was focused on the look of Ron's hair, wet and dripping onto his shoulders. "How shall we celebrate then?"
"I've been working on that," Ron said with a glint in his eyes reminiscent of Fred and George scheming up some hilarious practical joke.
He got up from the table. The towel dropped to the floor as he strode across the room to the little table with the parchment from 'The Management.' Harry's eyes followed him, taking in every movement and inch of his frame. He was actually afraid to walk over near him. He was afraid he'd reach over to touch Ron and embarrass himself. So instead he reached over and opened his own butter beer waiting for him to reveal his plan.
Ron glanced over his shoulder at Harry, grinning, and picked up the quill and began to write. He read out loud as he wrote it.
"Let's see if the Management can arrange this!
"'This evening we would like to celebrate a good friend's dream coming true,' " he wrote.
After a moment the ink disappeared. The reply came rather quickly and he also read it out loud.
" 'Dear Esteemed Guest:
" 'The Management and staff of the Sorcerer's Retreat House pride ourselves on being able to accommodate the wishes of even the most discriminating wizard. You may leave everything to us and we will make all the necessary arrangements. We promise to oblige your request to the utmost of our ability for your pleasure.
" 'Yours ever faithfully,
" 'The Management of the Sorcerer's Retreat House'."
Ron turned around triumphantly. Harry pretended to look over and up at him with a slow glance that allowed him to drink in the whole scene.
"That takes care of that then!" He said crossing over to where Harry was sitting. He placed his hand on Harry's shoulder. Harry felt an electricity go through him.
"I'm going to clean up for dinner," he said still grinning.
His hand moved from Harry's shoulder to his wet matted ebony hair. "You might want to clean up a bit as well, mate," he said as he turned towards the bedroom.
Harry sat there for a moment sipping his butter beer. He felt completely adrift in the rising tide of his emotions. He had faced death many times in the last seven years yet he now felt a sense of danger and expectation (...longing?...) unlike anything he'd ever experienced before. All he wanted was for the evening to be over and to find himself again in Ron's sleeping embrace.
But it's all so ridiculous, Harry brooded. Why did he feel this need for the touch of Ron's skin next to his? Was it some kind of psychological reaction to all the fears he'd had to suppress so many times while confronting Lord Voldemort? Maybe somehow being here alone with Ron was making up for the lost comforts and love of the parents he'd never known. So many times He had wanted his mother's comforting caress and his father's reassuring hugs; and thanks to Voldemort he would never experience it. For awhile Sirius Black had been there for him and fulfilled that need, but Voldemort had killed him too in the months before the last battle. Maybe Ron was now somehow fulfilling those needs. Or maybe he had all along. Maybe that was why he felt this strange attraction to Ron. Could this be it? Yet he sensed that there was something different and stronger in whatever it was he was feeling for Ron. Where was it all going?
He shook his head, giving up. Divination had never been his strong suit.
"Well, Hedwig," he said, as he too turned to clean up for dinner, "wonder if the Management could accommodate to resolve my current problems."
Hedwig stared at him with her usual haughty gaze as though it was all beneath her.
Entering the bedroom Harry found Ron already dressed and combing his hair. They had spent seven years together sharing the same dormitory room. Now, however, alone in a room with Ron fully dressed and himself naked, except for the towel and underwear he was trying nonchalantly to carry, he felt very vulnerable and had a mad desire to feel Ron's arms around him.
Of course this didn't happen. Harry walked to the bathroom, trying to suppress the desire to pass close to Ron in the hope that he would slap his bottom again. He drew the bath and soon found himself once more naked in some of the most comfortable water he'd ever experienced.
He thought about the Tri-Wizard Tournament once more. This time he remembered using the Prefects' bathroom to discover the secret of the egg. The egg had made a loud shrill noise that the Champions had to interpret before the second Task. Cedric Diggory had confided to Harry that he should listen to it underwater. He had also suggested the Prefects' bathroom. That turned out to be a bathroom worth trying to become a prefect for! Harry was sure it was the most luxurious bathroom on earth.
He hadn't thought about it over the last three years, but now he was remembering the whole incident. In particular he remembered Moaning Myrtle secretly watching him in the giant tub. At the time when he realised she was there he was so embarrassed that he didn't think he'd ever get over it, but he did. How long would it take him to get over the feelings he was having for Ron, he wondered. He also mused about how he'd feel if Ron were watching him bathe now.
After his bath Harry returned to the bedroom and dressed for dinner. He was certain that this was the most oddly disturbing day he'd ever experienced. He tried combing his hair but as usual it had a mind of its own and obstinately refused to lay straight. He gazed at himself in the mirror. The black haired boy with the scar on his forehead and round glasses had become a man. His green eyes stared back at him with a depth of world-weariness from the many sights they had seen. He smiled as he caught himself wondering if Ron had ever looked at his face the way Harry had been looking at his all day.
He walked into the front room to find Ron hovering over the Management's parchment.
"Hey Harry, looks like they don't even really know how many people are here." He was pointing to the parchment. There was a new message from the Management:
" 'PS how many would you like for dinner?' "
"That's odd," Harry said.
"Well, I'll have a go answering it," said Ron as he dipped the quill in the ink and began to write.
"There will be two dining. But they will be ravenous and most thirsty," he wrote.
Almost immediately, the ink vanished and the reply came back:
" 'Excellent. You may leave everything to us. Please avail yourselves of the table whenever you are ready.
" 'Yours ever faithfully..."
"Shall we?" Ron offered, and the two of them walked over to the table and seated themselves across from one another.
In a flash the table was replete with a rich variety of delicious foods, roasts, Yorkshire Pudding, veggies. To Ron and Harry it seemed as though the Management had somehow discovered their favourite dishes and were serving them up special for this occasion.
There were several elegant bottles on the table and goblets at each place setting. Harry poured some of the contents from one into his goblet and reached over to do the same for Ron's. Not quite recognising the contents (surely nothing that they had ever been served in the Great Hall), he gave a sniff and then took a small sip. The taste was delightful, exquisite and quite indefinable. After watching Harry's reaction, Ron plucked up the courage to try his goblet, and he too discovered that the contents were most satisfying.
Harry held out his goblet. "To Hermione! The best new professor at Hogwarts!" he proclaimed.
"Here, here!" chimed in Ron, and they quaffed the goblets dry.
They continued their meal, talking animatedly about all their memories of Hermione, her intelligence, her dedication to her friends, and her temper and bossiness. They laughed and also sometimes spoke in almost whispered tones about what a terrific friend she was. Course after course continued to appear on their plates. Each dish had an aroma that recharged the appetite and a taste that emptied the mind of any possible comparison to other meals.
And they continued to drink. They offered up toasts to Hermione; and to Dumbledore and McGonagall for choosing her as assistant professor; to Hagrid for helping them to understand her when they were at odds with her; to Viktor Krum for turning out to be such a nice guy and loving husband to her; and even to Snape for reasons they couldn't quite clarify but found hysterically funny enough to warrant a second toast anyway.
By the time the pudding appeared they were both quite merry. Harry noticed (somewhat blearily) that Ron's cheeks were flushed. Perhaps it was all the laughter. He was also aware that his own cheeks obviously were also flushed. He didn't care. He couldn't remember when he'd ever had a more joyful, sillier or exhilarating evening. Their appetites were completely sated by this point although they both continued to nurse their goblets. Harry felt as happy as he had ever been in his life.
When they got up from table they both stumbled a bit. Ron grabbed the table with one hand to steady himself and sniggered. He looked up at Harry who was trying to suppress a laugh. They broke into another fit of giggling.
Harry, swaying slightly, walked around the table. Locking arms they attempted to make their way to the couch near the fire without falling down. They almost made it. Within the last few steps of reaching their destination Harry listed a bit to one side and pulling Ron down on top of him they both plopped down onto the couch.
"So much for holding on to one's dignity," said Harry with a somewhat slurred voice. He was still giggling.
"Harry, right now I don't care about my dignity," Ron said rather huskily. "I just want..."
His voice trailed off.
He was looking at Harry, gazing into his eyes.
He unlocked his arm from Harry's.
Before Harry could even see it coming, Ron had taken him in his arms and was kissing him.
A Private Celebration
When he went inside he found Ron sitting at the table munching a Cauldron Cake and opening a bottle of butter beer. He was still grinning. Harry noticed the towel loosely draped over his lap in an untidy and slightly immodest sort of way. He walked to the table, picking up a Pumpkin Pasty, and sat down across from him.
"We've got to have a celebration of our own; for Hermione, I mean," Ron said after washing down the last of his Cauldron Cake with a sip of butter beer.
"Okay," Harry replied. His attention was focused on the look of Ron's hair, wet and dripping onto his shoulders. "How shall we celebrate then?"
"I've been working on that," Ron said with a glint in his eyes reminiscent of Fred and George scheming up some hilarious practical joke.
He got up from the table. The towel dropped to the floor as he strode across the room to the little table with the parchment from 'The Management.' Harry's eyes followed him, taking in every movement and inch of his frame. He was actually afraid to walk over near him. He was afraid he'd reach over to touch Ron and embarrass himself. So instead he reached over and opened his own butter beer waiting for him to reveal his plan.
Ron glanced over his shoulder at Harry, grinning, and picked up the quill and began to write. He read out loud as he wrote it.
"Let's see if the Management can arrange this!
"'This evening we would like to celebrate a good friend's dream coming true,' " he wrote.
After a moment the ink disappeared. The reply came rather quickly and he also read it out loud.
" 'Dear Esteemed Guest:
" 'The Management and staff of the Sorcerer's Retreat House pride ourselves on being able to accommodate the wishes of even the most discriminating wizard. You may leave everything to us and we will make all the necessary arrangements. We promise to oblige your request to the utmost of our ability for your pleasure.
" 'Yours ever faithfully,
" 'The Management of the Sorcerer's Retreat House'."
Ron turned around triumphantly. Harry pretended to look over and up at him with a slow glance that allowed him to drink in the whole scene.
"That takes care of that then!" He said crossing over to where Harry was sitting. He placed his hand on Harry's shoulder. Harry felt an electricity go through him.
"I'm going to clean up for dinner," he said still grinning.
His hand moved from Harry's shoulder to his wet matted ebony hair. "You might want to clean up a bit as well, mate," he said as he turned towards the bedroom.
Harry sat there for a moment sipping his butter beer. He felt completely adrift in the rising tide of his emotions. He had faced death many times in the last seven years yet he now felt a sense of danger and expectation (...longing?...) unlike anything he'd ever experienced before. All he wanted was for the evening to be over and to find himself again in Ron's sleeping embrace.
But it's all so ridiculous, Harry brooded. Why did he feel this need for the touch of Ron's skin next to his? Was it some kind of psychological reaction to all the fears he'd had to suppress so many times while confronting Lord Voldemort? Maybe somehow being here alone with Ron was making up for the lost comforts and love of the parents he'd never known. So many times He had wanted his mother's comforting caress and his father's reassuring hugs; and thanks to Voldemort he would never experience it. For awhile Sirius Black had been there for him and fulfilled that need, but Voldemort had killed him too in the months before the last battle. Maybe Ron was now somehow fulfilling those needs. Or maybe he had all along. Maybe that was why he felt this strange attraction to Ron. Could this be it? Yet he sensed that there was something different and stronger in whatever it was he was feeling for Ron. Where was it all going?
He shook his head, giving up. Divination had never been his strong suit.
"Well, Hedwig," he said, as he too turned to clean up for dinner, "wonder if the Management could accommodate to resolve my current problems."
Hedwig stared at him with her usual haughty gaze as though it was all beneath her.
Entering the bedroom Harry found Ron already dressed and combing his hair. They had spent seven years together sharing the same dormitory room. Now, however, alone in a room with Ron fully dressed and himself naked, except for the towel and underwear he was trying nonchalantly to carry, he felt very vulnerable and had a mad desire to feel Ron's arms around him.
Of course this didn't happen. Harry walked to the bathroom, trying to suppress the desire to pass close to Ron in the hope that he would slap his bottom again. He drew the bath and soon found himself once more naked in some of the most comfortable water he'd ever experienced.
He thought about the Tri-Wizard Tournament once more. This time he remembered using the Prefects' bathroom to discover the secret of the egg. The egg had made a loud shrill noise that the Champions had to interpret before the second Task. Cedric Diggory had confided to Harry that he should listen to it underwater. He had also suggested the Prefects' bathroom. That turned out to be a bathroom worth trying to become a prefect for! Harry was sure it was the most luxurious bathroom on earth.
He hadn't thought about it over the last three years, but now he was remembering the whole incident. In particular he remembered Moaning Myrtle secretly watching him in the giant tub. At the time when he realised she was there he was so embarrassed that he didn't think he'd ever get over it, but he did. How long would it take him to get over the feelings he was having for Ron, he wondered. He also mused about how he'd feel if Ron were watching him bathe now.
After his bath Harry returned to the bedroom and dressed for dinner. He was certain that this was the most oddly disturbing day he'd ever experienced. He tried combing his hair but as usual it had a mind of its own and obstinately refused to lay straight. He gazed at himself in the mirror. The black haired boy with the scar on his forehead and round glasses had become a man. His green eyes stared back at him with a depth of world-weariness from the many sights they had seen. He smiled as he caught himself wondering if Ron had ever looked at his face the way Harry had been looking at his all day.
He walked into the front room to find Ron hovering over the Management's parchment.
"Hey Harry, looks like they don't even really know how many people are here." He was pointing to the parchment. There was a new message from the Management:
" 'PS how many would you like for dinner?' "
"That's odd," Harry said.
"Well, I'll have a go answering it," said Ron as he dipped the quill in the ink and began to write.
"There will be two dining. But they will be ravenous and most thirsty," he wrote.
Almost immediately, the ink vanished and the reply came back:
" 'Excellent. You may leave everything to us. Please avail yourselves of the table whenever you are ready.
" 'Yours ever faithfully..."
"Shall we?" Ron offered, and the two of them walked over to the table and seated themselves across from one another.
In a flash the table was replete with a rich variety of delicious foods, roasts, Yorkshire Pudding, veggies. To Ron and Harry it seemed as though the Management had somehow discovered their favourite dishes and were serving them up special for this occasion.
There were several elegant bottles on the table and goblets at each place setting. Harry poured some of the contents from one into his goblet and reached over to do the same for Ron's. Not quite recognising the contents (surely nothing that they had ever been served in the Great Hall), he gave a sniff and then took a small sip. The taste was delightful, exquisite and quite indefinable. After watching Harry's reaction, Ron plucked up the courage to try his goblet, and he too discovered that the contents were most satisfying.
Harry held out his goblet. "To Hermione! The best new professor at Hogwarts!" he proclaimed.
"Here, here!" chimed in Ron, and they quaffed the goblets dry.
They continued their meal, talking animatedly about all their memories of Hermione, her intelligence, her dedication to her friends, and her temper and bossiness. They laughed and also sometimes spoke in almost whispered tones about what a terrific friend she was. Course after course continued to appear on their plates. Each dish had an aroma that recharged the appetite and a taste that emptied the mind of any possible comparison to other meals.
And they continued to drink. They offered up toasts to Hermione; and to Dumbledore and McGonagall for choosing her as assistant professor; to Hagrid for helping them to understand her when they were at odds with her; to Viktor Krum for turning out to be such a nice guy and loving husband to her; and even to Snape for reasons they couldn't quite clarify but found hysterically funny enough to warrant a second toast anyway.
By the time the pudding appeared they were both quite merry. Harry noticed (somewhat blearily) that Ron's cheeks were flushed. Perhaps it was all the laughter. He was also aware that his own cheeks obviously were also flushed. He didn't care. He couldn't remember when he'd ever had a more joyful, sillier or exhilarating evening. Their appetites were completely sated by this point although they both continued to nurse their goblets. Harry felt as happy as he had ever been in his life.
When they got up from table they both stumbled a bit. Ron grabbed the table with one hand to steady himself and sniggered. He looked up at Harry who was trying to suppress a laugh. They broke into another fit of giggling.
Harry, swaying slightly, walked around the table. Locking arms they attempted to make their way to the couch near the fire without falling down. They almost made it. Within the last few steps of reaching their destination Harry listed a bit to one side and pulling Ron down on top of him they both plopped down onto the couch.
"So much for holding on to one's dignity," said Harry with a somewhat slurred voice. He was still giggling.
"Harry, right now I don't care about my dignity," Ron said rather huskily. "I just want..."
His voice trailed off.
He was looking at Harry, gazing into his eyes.
He unlocked his arm from Harry's.
Before Harry could even see it coming, Ron had taken him in his arms and was kissing him.