Disclaimer: If I owned 'em slash wouldn't just be a factor of fanfiction.
Warning(s): Slash. If not open-minded, then please don't read.
Author's Note: I found this little fic when I was going through my notebooks and thought it would be a waste not to post it. Enjoy...
Slip Of The Tongue
It was a lovely winter evening, delicately intricate snowflakes drifting through the icy fingers of the wind while the vibrant rays of the sunset caused the flakes to glow with a ethereal radiance. The pure white snow blanketed the sprawling castle grounds so that it appeared as if some rare silk material had sewn itself into the earth. But all this natural beauty was lost on most of the students in the Griffindor Common Room who found the cozy atmosphere and warm glow of the fireplace a beckoning to simply sit in drowsy silence or participate in light and casual conversation.
There were two particular students, however, who were not comforted by the beautiful landscape or pleasant feeling of satisfaction that the evening had brought. Sadly, their corner of the room was rather tense and uncomfortable, the awkwardness warding away any tranquility that might have engulfed them before. One of the two even longed to sink into a depthless abyss so that he could escape the horrid predicament he had ensnared himself into. The other was simply waiting to see what events would unfold. And unfold they did.
Ron Weasley locked his cloudy blue eyes with the burnished stone floor and stubbornly kept his gaze there, reluctant—no, terrified—to see his friend's expression. He knew he was blushing dreadfully for he could actually feel the heat of the flush running from his neck all the way up to his ears. But the rapid beating of his heart and the cold feeling fluttering in his stomach was far worse than his blush. How he wished he could simply take back his words that he gotten him in this situation! He never knew how such a small slip of the tongue could bring this much distress.
"Ron...look at me."
The redhead winced at the gentle command and shifted nervously in his chair, but did not obey. Ron heard a soft sigh from his companion a minute later and wondered frightfully what would come next. He would be a liar to deny that he was scared senseless of possible rejection. It scared the shit out of him.
"Ron...please," The tone of the voice was laced with exasperation.
"No... I can't..." Ron whispered, squeezing his eyes close and shaking his head. The poor boy couldn't think coherently. If he had paying attention, he would have noticed that his friend's actions did not seem to be based on anger, but rather concern. Unfortunately, Ron was too busy with all the worst scenario cases flashing through his mind. His companion knew this, was even rather amused by this and knew that Ron's stubbornness had to be battled with different tactics than simply talking.
Ron's heart nearly jumped out of its ribcage when he felt a cool, slim hand cup his chin and lift it up gently. He was forced to stare directly into intensive green eyes that belonged to the person who he loved, the person who had just heard him unintentionally confess his feelings for them. Ron thought he couldn't blush any harder, but the red color staining his skin proved him wrong.
"I'm...sorry...I-I didn't mean...I mean..." Ron stuttered, conscious of the hand that was still holding his chin. His blue eyes could not look away from his companion's now that their gazes had been locked together. He felt as if he were drowning in those warm, dark pools of color...
"You didn't mean what you said? Are you sure?" The other asked with amusement evident in their voice.
"It...it was a...a slip of the tongue..." Came the miserable response.
A husky chuckle was heard. "It was a slip of the tongue, eh? So you don't love me?"
"I...I..."
"Because if you didn't love me, I would be in an horrible predicament."
Ron's eyes widened with shock. Did that mean... Or was he simply delusional? The boy prayed to all the gods he knew of that he wasn't wrong in his guess.
Ron swallowed hard before he spoke. "Does that mean...?"
His companion grinned mischievously. "Does that mean that I love you too? Of course it does, you idiot."
"I... can't.... believe..." Ron trailed off, looking almost petrified with shock.
"Believe it, my pretty lad," It was in warm, loving tone that these words were spoken.
And it was then that Seamus Finnigan decided that the best course of action would be to kiss his stupefied lover. And so he gathered up his precious bundle in his arms and did just that. Halfway through the sweet kiss Ron realized (despite his hazy thoughts) that sometimes-unintentional mistakes could be blessings in disguise... And that was the last coherent thought his mind had.
Through it all the lovely snow continued to fall outside, a beautiful painting for anyone to enjoy... anyone who wasn't already entranced by the painting that they and their lover were creating with brushes made of sweet kisses. A work of art that would forever be for their eyes and their eyes only...
fin...
Side note(s): Who knew it was Seamus? In the beginning it was going to be Harry, but Seamus decided to write himself in... The little rascal. Kisses to all those who review! Oh... and anyone know Seamus' eye color? I assume it is green, but tell me if I'm mistaken.