Harry returned to his common room that afternoon, facing his fears, with his head held high. His meeting with Draco was eerily comforting, and he felt better prepared to face what he knew he was coming. Congregating with Draco at times made him feel ill, but simultaneously it was a comfort to be with a person who would not judge him, because they tragically were alike. So with that knowledge, Harry stepped past the Fat Lady's threshold and into the Gryffindor common room.

He was immediately greeted by a thick, staggering silence. Students twisted around in their seats in the overstuffed couches and stared without a word. Harry had felt several times before in his life what it felt like to come across a group of people and know, just know, that they had been talking about just before you entered the room. It is very rarely a good feeling, especially when you have a good hankering of what they had been saying.

After going up to his dormitory and rummaging around for supplies to appear as if he had a purpose for entering in the first place, Harry decided this setting was far too uncomfortable, and headed back down and spent the evening in the library instead. Most of the Gryffindors were gathered together in the common room, as the gossip at the moment was absolutely too delicious to pass up, so he was left unbothered and alone outside of it. Fortunately students from the other Houses either didn't care enough or hadn't heard.

Being a sixth-year, Harry was able to linger in the library and head back to the common room much later than in past years, which was used to his advantage. He successfully avoided all other students, along their accompanying unwanted stares, on his journey through the hallway back to Gryffindor, and all was going well and safely until he got to the dormitory stairs. There, standing and blocking the stairway, was a certain Ronald Weasley, leaning slightly against the rail with his arms crossed, looking shifty and uncomfortable as usual. Harry could tell he had been standing there for awhile, because his eyes were glazed and staring into air, as if his thoughts had been wandering for some time. Suddenly noticing the bespectacled teenager, Ron was startled into an alert posture.

"Uh—uh—hey, Harry!"

"Uh... hey, Ron." At least they were on an equal level. The two hadn't talked for a good while, and Harry felt an odd, rushing sensation at the almost unfamiliar contact.

"Uh (oh yeah), sorry, bro, but I can't let you through."

"Ugh, this isn't about that thing with Ginny and Hermione, is it? Just let me have some peace. I've already been through Hell all day."

"Nope, nope, you can't get through," Ron said proudly, shaking his head from side to side. His confidence grew steadily as his purpose became clearer to himself. "Nope, we definitely need to talk about this. Definitely."

"Er, we do?"

"Dude, you FUCKED my little SISTER. My f-ing little sister! What were you thinking?! Or was there too much blood rushing to another part of your body that your brain forgot to function?"

"Hey man, your sister is old enough to think for herself. Don't go crazy on me because you have some older brother complex!"

"Older brother complex?!" Ron spitted.

"Yeah, just look at the way you treated every guy she dated last year, like Dean Thomas!"

"Dean Thomas didn't screw with her and break her heart, you ass! And—and—HERMIONE! You KNOW how I felt... I mean, how I feel about her!"

"Hey, pal... you didn't make a move, you lose. Who you have the hots for has nothing to do with me."

Harry thought that this conversation had been going pretty fine for the most part and that the both of them were keeping it cool and low-key, especially compared to their past disagreements. But there was something in what Harry had just said that made it all break loose. Ron's entire face went red as fast as an atomic bomb cloud billows. He muttered under his breath, "You little prick..." while clenching his right fist, then leaned forward and clocked Harry right in the nose, just missing where Lavender had smacked him earlier that very same day.

"Unf..." Harry staggered back, clutching his bleeding nose. "Wha' da..." He looked up and saw that Ron was beyond furious. His freckled face was turning into a maroon shade that clashed horribly with his hair, and his expression showed a passion of such depths that Harry had not seen in him before.

There was no time for words. All that fury that Harry had been filled with during his fifth year, which had caused him to yell almost every other sentence, as you may remember, was now seemingly all placed inside of Ron. The redheaded boy charged his best friend before Harry could even think, pummeling him to the ground. Harry, who was used to being attacked unexpectedly and having to defend himself quickly throughout much of his life, was able to fight back somewhat. But he had been going through such an emotional beating all day (never mind the self-harmful tendencies he'd possessed for the past few months), that he found it too difficult to fight back quite quickly enough.

The boys rolled around on the rug-covered floor of the Gryffindor common room, gradually moving away from the staircase entrance. Blood was spurting out everywhere, leaving red puddles that formed a wet path marking their trail. Most of it came from Harry's nose, which gushed as much of a red mess as it would under those little candies Fred and George invented earlier to get students out of class. But Ron had contributed his own healthy amount of blood, as Harry had clawed the boy's face as much as he could while trying to force Ron's gangly body of off his own. Ah, reader, the sight of these two vigorous, virile young men in such spirited action is one that gets my own blood pumping! Why, I remember my own school days back when men were Real Men, watching wrestling matches on Thursday afternoons... the young men in their tight, blue spandex suits... The rippling muscles, the lean flesh, the tight, packed bulges, the—uh, er...

Anyway, Harry was pretty much tuckered out at this point, and just lay on his back on the floor, letting Ron do whatever Ron felt he needed to do. The redhead stood above him, barely sustained by the energy that an explosive rage provides one. But his anger had subsided into something else, and his expression spoke of a deeper frustration and grief. He gave one last weak kick, and collapsed onto Harry's chest. The two of them gasped and panted raggedly, which was not surprising. But what did surprise Harry was that Ron suddenly burst into a loud, wet sob.

"Harry!" he wailed. "Harry! I-I-I'm sorry! I'm such a fool! I'm not in—in love with—with Hermione!"

Okaaaay, Harry thought.

"Harry, I'm—! I'm... I'm in love with James Privet-Parts!" he blurted.

...

OKAAAAAY, Harry thought again. This is going a problem...

A few minutes later, the two boys had wiped some of the blood clean, and Harry had a wad of tissue stuck up his nose. Ron was now trying to explain his situation.

"I—I found one of your videos in a store earlier this summer, while I was out shopping with Mum. James Privet-Parts and the Quest for the Gilded Dildo. The cover was so beautiful, with James—I mean—you, standing in the center, holding upright this majestic, golden dildo as if it were a mighty relic. It was so beautiful that I had to get it. I bought it while Mum wasn't looking and watched it that night after everyone had gone to bed. It was so wonderful... that was the most brilliant self-orgasm I had ever had." (Harry made an odd, "ugh" expression at that.) "I fell in love with James Privet-Parts. He was so beautiful... Maybe it was his resemblance to you that got me, but I didn't know. I didn't realize it was you! I had no idea! If I knew... I don't know."

"So," Harry began, "this is why you've been freaking out around me all this time? Because you were secretly in love with me?"

"I didn't say that! I was in love with James Privet-Parts... If I had known it was you all that time, I probably would've been sick to my stomach, to tell you the truth. But when I realized that he was you, and I knew what you could do... You can do some amazing things, Harry, especially with your tongue. Did you know that?"

"Yes, I know that. That's why everyone is in love with me, apparently."

"Well, yes, anyway, you're bloody amazing. You're brilliant. And—and..." He reached over and grabbed Harry's hand. "I think I'm bloody well in love with you."

Harry considered this. True, this was his best friend, and romantic relationships with your best friends were generally ill-advised. But Hermione was also one of his best friends, and that was going pretty swell until she spazzed out on him that one night. Girls are too jealous! And they're so overemotional. Just like Cho was. They're all the same. How can they possibly expect to keep a guy confined to one person? It was silly. Draco didn't spit fire when he found out Harry was fooling around. Guys are alright.

Harry smiled and clasped Ron's hands around with his own. They spent a bit more time down there in the common room, alone. But that won't be described, as there was still blood everywhere, and it was pretty disgusting, and you really don't want your author to puke while writing, do you?

Above them in one of the boys' dormitories, Colin Creevy was singing to himself a classic Madonna tune in his high-pitched, whiney voice, as he swayed his skinny little tush to the beat. Colin was a HUGE Madonna fan, and we all know what THAT means. Anyway, it went along really well with the previously described scene, and it was quite beautiful.

"Swaying room as the music starts...

Strangers making the most of the da-ark!

Two by two their bodies become OOOONE!

I see you through the smokey air...

Can't you feel the weight of my sta-are?!

You're so close but STILL a world A-way-ay!"

What I'm dying to say, is that...

I'm crazy for you!

TAW-ouch me once and you'll know it's true!

I never wanted anyone like this...

It's all brand new! You'll feel it in my kiss...

I'M CRAZY FOR YOOUU! Crazy FO-or you! Oh! Oh, oh, oh-oo-oh!"

At this point, Gryffindor boys on the floor above started banging on the floor with broomstick handles, yelling, "COLIN, shut the hell up!" So they skinny teenage boy sadly stopped and laid himself back into his bed, while the two boys in the common room below continue to neck in peace.