Who Do I Admire the Most?
By Stan Brianson
Ron Weasley ?
Rating: "R" – for language and implied incest.
DISCLAIMER: This story is fictional – that's F-I-C-T-I-O-N. It never happened, and is not real. It is the product of my own imagination. It contains descriptions of male slash (that's male/male homosexual relations). If you do not like this type of content, or if you find homosexuality or its practice offensive, please click the "Back" button or close your Internet browser NOW, and do not read any further. All characters and copyrights are owned by J.K Rowling and Warner Brothers™ (AOL Time Warner), but this story is owned by me and is all my own work.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story also contains implications of incest. Although there is no action taken on this theme whatsoever, some readers may nevertheless find it disturbing. If you are likely to be upset by this matter, please hit the "Back" button now. The Author would also like it to be known that he neither condones nor condemns incestuous relationships. Thank you, and enjoy the story.
REFERENCE: "Admire" Əd′maıər – Verb. To respect and approve of someone or their behaviour, or to find someone or something attractive and pleasant to look at.
The Cambridge Advanced Learner's Dictionary, Cambridge University Press
Oh, Merlin, I am in so much trouble. Oh, Merlin, I am in much trouble.
Why? Why did this have to happen to me?
ican'tdothisican'tdothisican'tdo…
Why did Mum always teach me to never ever tell a lie?
pleasehelpmepleasepleaseplease…
Whodoi – what!
Admire? Define admire then…
Okay. Admire. Verb. To respect and approve of someone or their behaviour, or to find someone or something attractive and pleasant to look at.
Oh. Great.
I am in so much trouble. I can't even do my homework. Ha! Sounds pathetic, doesn't it, eh? But I can't. Well, I can, I just don't want to. What a dilemma! How stupid does that sound! I could do it easily – it's just half a roll of parchment. Bugger that, I could write a hundred rolls of parchment! But I couldn't hand it in. What would everyone think of me if they read it?
Anyway. History of Magic. Our homework is an essay. Just a short one, nothing huge. It's entitled "Who do I admire the most, and why?". Sounds simple, huh! Well, that sort of depends on your point of view, doesn't it. I suppose I could write about any important historical figure, like Godric Gryffindor – brave and loyal, all qualities I admire – or then again, someone like Dilys Derwent, you know, the healer who became Headmistress of Hogwarts for a bit. Couldn't I. Just pull some bullshit piece of bollocks out of by arse to shut Professor Binns up. Let's face it wouldn't be the first time I've done that! Remember those sodding dream diaries we had to keep in Divination? You think those were anywhere near my real dreams?
But I was brought up properly. I may not have much money, but I've got family, I've got values, and above all else, I know right from wrong. And I was brought up never to tell a lie. Never. Lying is a bad thing, and a liar will always be found out – it's always just a matter of time before he slips up. I admit – Professor Trelawney is a law unto herself and so all rules change. But when it comes to sharing your deepest, darkest, most shameful, most secret secret that you ever dared keep a secret… I don't know, I just can't do that.
Well, I've written the essay in my head, but I certainly couldn't record it in any way that another person could understand.
You see, the person who I admire the most is neither historical nor important. He's just an ordinary, common-as-muck man. Good with figures, with a very keen intellect. A man who seems to be stuck in a rut in a dead-end job, but if you just knew him then you would know that he could get any job he wanted – especially with those OWLs and NEWTs! – but is just too happy in his current career. A man you would never usually meet or even know about, but you rely on this man and his work for everyday life to keep running as it does, without even knowing what he looks like, never mind knowing what his name is.
But I know his name…
An old-fashioned, traditional name, given a modern context…
But that is in his working life. When he gets home he actually becomes a different man altogether. He's one part of a very close family. Just one part, although just looking at him you know that the tired old cliché is true – the smallest cog is just as important as the control panel of a machine. And it's a firm value that he staunchly believes in. "Your elder, but your equal" is one of his favourite phrases. Very noble, very… admirable.
He's always so very cheerful, and he radiates his permanent good moods wherever he goes. Sort of like an anti-dementor or something. I dunno… He just has to walk into the same room as you to make your day, to make you feel as if you'll never feel gloomy again. And that's when he's having a supposed bad day!
He's the pillar of strength, of wisdom, of… of fabulous goodness, for fuck's sake! When I feel low, or upset, he just tells me to "cheer up, it might never happen!" and I do, because it is an instruction from him! But he walks in and flashes me that grin, that grin which does things to me… That grin which makes me feel so warm and tingly inside. And then, he slips me a wink. That wonderful, marvellous wink. The wink that makes me want to run somewhere private so I can think of him as I want him to think of me, but can't – we both live in a very crowded house, and on one hand to stand up would let me leave the room, but on the other hand it would also be a sure-fire way to cause a nasty case of acute embarrassment. Instead, each time, I have to settle for holding a Cannon's book in front of my trousers, the colour of my face trying to match the colour of my hair but ending up clashing oh so horribly…
It's ridiculous, isn't it? That I should feel this way about him? It's not because he's a man, oh no! I resigned myself to that inevitability two years ago. But it's just that… he's one of my own. And isn't that just so wrong?
I shouldn't be feeling this way. I shouldn't…
Can't…
Mustn't…
Won't…
Why can't I help it?
Oh, shit. What have I got myself into? Why couldn't I have fallen in love with someone else? Why couldn't he be tall, dark and handsome like in the fairy stories,
(why settle for dark and boring when you can have red and exciting?)
who's sensitive,
(right again)
caring,
(stirrrrr-ike threee!)
with a great sense of humour,
(check!)
who'd get on great with my family and friends,
(do we really need to go on?)
my age,
(what does a little age gap matter?)
and didn't make everything so fucking complicated!
(ah, good point, Ronald)
Family members are supposed to love each other, right? Then why does this feel so wrong?
Probably because you shouldn't feel that you want to make love to them, that's why. And of all of them, why the bloody Hell did it have to be him? Ah, let's see, now. Charlie; rough hands, not enough in common, never bonded much cos he spent too much time playing quidditch before he went to Romania. Percy; because, essentially, he's a shit. 'Nuff said. Fred or George; too busy playing pranks. Anyway, I wouldn't get a look-in, they're too busy spending time with each other to play with "Ickle Ronnikins". Ginny; eurggh! Come on! She's a girl! Now be serious.
But, my B –
(don'tsayitdon'tsayitdon'tsayit)
They say that it's easy to fancy someone, to be fond of someone, to like someone in that way. But to love someone, you've got to see all of their bad points in a good light. To see past them all. Well, I've seen him at his best. I've seen him at his worst. I've even seen him starkers! Well, of course I have. In such a close family with so much testosterone bouncing off the walls, modesty has never been much of a strongly enforced point at The Burrow. And that sight, well! Let's just say that that part of him certainly doesn't disappoint! The sight of his bits and pieces dangling in front of me… does things to me that even the power of the sly wink at me over the dinner table can't even muster.
And when he tells me that he loves me! For the love of the fucking Stars! Even though I know he doesn't mean it the way that I want him to. Can never mean it the way I want him to. Because on that front, he's only got eyes for one person. And a woman, no less.
My elder, but my equal…
Then why do I feel so inferior?
He once told me that I could ask him anything and he'd always speak nothing but the truth; that I could tell him anything I wanted to, and that he'd always love me, always be there for me, no matter what.
I wonder what he'd say if I told him the truth. That I love him. That I really love him. In that way.
My B –
I love him so much that it hurts. It physically hurts. So much that I think that I will die if I don't get to be held in his arms, his strong, muscular, protective arms surrounding me like a cocoon of affection. Him kissing me, whispering in my ear words which are only ever meant for me and which nobody else will ever, ever hear, making love to me… And I will wither and fade away like a dying swan if he rejects me.
And so I remain here. In this wretched state of limbo. Too terrified to tell him how I feel. Terrified of rejection. Terrified of success – oh, Merlin, what would happen if anything ever did happen between us? I shudder to think of the repercussions that could have. It would hurt so many people. I don't want to do that either.
Better to turn away, run away, fade away…
Better that it is only me who is hurting so badly inside. Better that nobody feels the pain that I do. Better I keep it all locked up inside me, throw it all on a bonfire, where nobody can ever see it and nobody will ever get burned.
Who do I admire the most…?
My B –
I admire him. I admire him. Oh, Merlin, I admire him and more, more, so much more!
My elder, but my equal…
If he only knew…
whymewhyhimomerlinomerlinofuckohelpmehelpmewhywhywhy?
My B –
don'tsayitsayitdon'tsayitsayit
I want him. I need him. I live for him. I live because of him. Please. Please? Please!
I love him so badly I feel I'm going to ignite, physically combust! I'm going to burst into such a brilliant, bright, burning ball of flames, he fills me with so much passion, joy, admiration, love…
My B –
damnedifidodamnedifidon't
don'tmakemepleasedon'tmakemeican'tdothispleasepleasedon'tmakeme…
It's so wrong. It feels so right and yet it's wrong, it's wrong on so many levels…
My B –
yesnoyesnoyes
My Beloved…
No! Yes! Yes…
Arthur…