By Kay
Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter yet. "Yet" being the key word. ;)
Author's Notes: Harry/Ron SLASH-- a little messed up towards the end. Harry, stop being such a bastard in my stories. I like you, remember?
A very short drabble during Halloween. :) Enjoy!
The stair creaks, but they can't bring themselves to break the kiss.
He knows that he doesn't want the Weasleys, still speaking softly in the cozy, dimly-lit kitchen below them, to see this frozen moment. There's a magnetic and hypnotic clamp down on his brain, however, and the murky thoughts dissolve under the warmth of the floorboards and stillness of the shadowed evening. The wallpaper is faded and bumpy under his hands, and Ron's bottom lip tastes like hot apple cider and the toffees he's been chewing all day, and all this is enough in itself to shut down the processes of his mind.
Ron's hands grip his shoulders hard enough to hurt, but he doesn't even notice. Instead, he presses the scrawny body covered in worn cotton against the wall even harder, and this is like everything he's never dreamt possible and more-- the candy scattered at their feet, the shaking breath brushing against his jaw, and the stinging cut along his thumb where he slipped when carving the pumpkin. Always a dream.
"Harry," Ron sighs.
And he jerks away, staring back at the flush and confusion spreading over his best friend's face. Ron looks at him with trust, with fear, and with the softening of longing that makes his lips curve up into a tentative smile.
But Harry has already remembered who he is, and the stair creaks when he runs upstairs to be sick.
The End