Hi!
I'm happy to announce my very first fanfic ever! This is my first attempt at writing in general, so if it's not up to par, let me know. In a nice manner. I got lots of help for this one though. From my idol even! My inspiration was overwhelming. I got the itch and I just had to write. I'm very happy with how it turned out, after all the editing and revising of course done by my wonderful beta. If not for him, my story would be a complete mess.

So, review lots! I'll think about a sequel. Depends on the reviews. 0D

Note: Special thanks to my inspiration, idol, mentor and fantastic beta, Emerin.

Harry came into my bedroom, in tears, the night of Sirius' funeral. He was completely hysterical, saying he was all alone, it was all his fault, he needed to die, he hated breathing. I just let him cry it all out for most of the evening, only interfering when he got hold of a blade and sliced open his arm. I forced him to heal it. Which he did. Sort of. So, around 11:00, he collapsed in my arms from exhaustion, but continued to sob.

"Promise me you'll always be by my side, Ron," he said.

"I promise."

"You'll always love me."

"Always."

"You'll never leave me."

"Never."

Then it happened. He tilted his face up and I saw all the emotions clear as day in his eyes. For the first time since I met him, he was allowing me to see him for who he really was. He let me see just how vulnerable, just how hurt he truly was. And I couldn't have loved him more than that second. Until he kissed me. It was the softest thing ever. He took his time pulling away before lying on his back and pulling me on top of him. I knew I shouldn't, I knew it all along, but it all felt so good. So...RIGHT. And I knew I'd regret it for forever if I didn't follow through with my love for once...My knowledge of my future only fueled this. I didn't want to die without knowing Harry like this.

So I undressed him. Devoured each inch of olive skin I revealed like it was my last meal. And I unwrapped him and laid him sprawled out on my bed like the best birthday present. His hands sang quiet songs along my body as they undressed me as well. Then we were naked, fully naked, nothing keeping us from each other, and he pressed me completely against him and I could've died happy right then. But his hand danced down my spine and I remembered that we were alive, alive and warm and ready for each other. So I rocked against him, cherishing the feel of his baby soft skin pulled tight across toned muscles. All exposed. Just for me. So I kiss that skin, all over, everywhere I can reach without losing contact with his hips. Then I undid his hair from the ponytail he'd grown accustomed to wearing and I almost came. Let me pause to really address just how happy I was that moment...

Harry James Potter sprawled out naked beneath me, body writhing, softly moaning, silk ebony hair spilled across my pillows, bright green eyes wide and watching and eager.

(sigh)

So I rocked harder and faster, and the faster I went, the more frantic we became until Harry spread his legs, thrusted up into me and said through clenched teeth, " Please, Ron...Please."

It was like music to my ears. I wanted to believe he meant what I wanted him to mean, but I had to make sure...And I was right.

So I prepared him, my tight, gorgeous, virgin little Harry, until he was pushing onto my fingers and begging me to stop teasing him and do it already. I pressed my body on top of him and the few seconds his body tensed up and panic flashed across his beautiful green eyes, they felt like hours. I wanted to cry when I thought he was having second thoughts, but my doubts were thrown to the fan when he grabbed me and guided it inside him.

He was an extraordinary virgin. I could see it in his eyes that he was in unbelievable pain, but he just clung to my shoulders, bit his lip and nodded me on. No whining, no crying, just soft whimpers and his nails piercing my skin. I rewarded him with a slow pace. So slow, it hurt. I felt his hardness burning a hole against my stomach and soon the slow pace just wasn't working out for us.

He let me control everything. He didn't protest when I started going fast and hard, or when I kissed him all over or when I grabbed his legs to wrap around my waist to get better depth and leverage. He writhed. He screamed. He arched. He kissed me till my lips ached. He dug his heels into my thighs, my lower back, my calves. He held onto my shoulder blades, my arms, my hands. He gripped my hair. He bit my neck. He drew blood on my shoulder. He was everything vivid and hot and real. And when I looked down at him, he was crying. He grabbed my face, kissed me hard and I saw stars.

After a brief rest, he flipped us over and rode me like no girl ever could. It was NOTHING like my brothers said it was like. It was more, it was everything. He bounced higher, swayed wider, rolled his hips harder. His raven hair hung in damp curls along his neck and face and he just GLOWED. And all the while, his eyes were wide. Never once did I see him close them. They got foggy, unfocused, but never closed.

We made love like that for the rest of the night, and into the morning. And I woke up to stupid early morning rays shining in my eyes. I felt something shift besides me and the light went away. Harry slipped back into bed besides me and watched me. It felt so good to be watched like that, quietly observed with utter adoration. So when he pulled my sketchbook I use for class off of the nightstand and started drawing me, I only looked on, didn't move and relished the way his eyes raked approvingly over my body. When he showed it to me, I was stunned. He's SO fucking good, it's not even funny. So, he signed it, added a little note (For My Wheezy- I Am Yours. Eternally- Harry) and handed it to me. That picture's framed and now hangs just to the side of the headboard.

I got to hold him in my arms and make love to him until late morning when I had to go do my chores. He stayed in my bed, looking absolutely delicious buried beneath my covers and curled up against my pillow. And I left him like that.

Now, I'm not even going to ruin the high I just got myself on and remember what came after. I'm going to hold onto that memory of Harry snuggled deep in my bed, completely naked and thoroughly shagged silly.

We're sitting in the living room together now, my family scattered round and bustling about in their usual chaotic fashion. Apparently there's a lot to be done after a funeral. Harry's staring blankly at his book, a ghost of a smile to his lips. I can't tell if he regrets last night or not. He hasn't really looked at me since this morning.

How much would he hurt me if I just licked the tip of his nose right now? Temptation is bearable, but hardly when you know EXACTLY what you're missing out on.

Like the greatest sex of your life with the universe's most gorgeous man.

I'm only torturing myself. Maybe last night was a mistake…Maybe he didn't mean it. Of course he didn't, why would he? But it's hard to believe that when he's looking at me now, dangerous sparks in his emerald eyes and my name on his lips. He gets up and slips out the backdoor, his book gently perched where he was once sitting.

Why am I staring at it? What am I doing?

I hurry after him, managing to catch up rather quickly since every step of mine is two for him. Why am I following? Because I made a promise.

I promised I'd always be by his side, so I am.