Author's Note: Dedicated to Lily, my tireless proofreader, wonderful illustrator, and dear friend. Oh, and all the squid bits were written with Jordan in mind, who adores the squid as much as I do.
I figured that all of us with… shall we say, slightly unstraight sexualities do have a whole internal coming out process, and I wanted to capture Harry's. And of course, I just can't get enough of that sweet sweet Harry/Ron. A bit rambling, but it was fun to write!
Warnings: Slightly sexual, rather angsty. Fairly clean though.
Disclaimer: Yeah. I don't own anything. Also, I snuck myself in there somewhere. Gee, what girls happen to look a lot like Ron Weasley?

Checkmate

Hermione took a deep breath and stared at the imposing library doors ahead of her. It wasn't like her, asking for help, but it made good academic sense to seek the assistance of someone more skilled in the field she desired to pursue advanced study in. They could leave all personal matters aside, and it wasn't as though she didn't like the girl… It was simply the issue of Harry's past with her, and Hermione wished fervently as she stepped into the library that there would be no questions. Based on what Harry had told her, her new study partner had been jealous and suspicious of Hermione, and Hermione hoped that this would not interfere with academics.

She scanned the library quickly, and a shiny black head popped up from a large pile of books at a dark wood table in a corner beneath a large window, through which the late autumn sun was pouring, illuminating pages of spiky weird runes.
"Hello Hermione!" called Cho Chang cheerfully.
No remaining jealousy, it appears, mused Hermione. Just please don't mention Cedric, was her last thought as she crossed the threshold to greet the older Ravenclaw.

If Hermione had been expecting anything other than friendly conversation and bountiful assistance in the subject of Ancient Runes, she didn't receive it. Cho acted as though nothing had ever passed between she and Harry; in fact, Harry remained largely excluded from their conversation altogether. Cho chattered about her post-Hogwarts plans, "Oh, I thought I might start out working in one of the little bookshops in Hogsmeade, start small, I suppose, though I'd like to own my own shop eventually… Of course there are always Ministry of Magic jobs for people with skills in the Ancient Runes department, translating odd spells and such, but I doubt I'd be comfortable in such a bureaucratic environment…" and about her Quidditch season, "Oh, Ravenclaw's doing rather well this year, pity it's my last year Seeking, it's been lovely even though I hurt my wrist last match…"
During one of their few breaks, however, Cho lowered her head conspiratorially towards Hermione, who was absent-mindedly munching on a packet of crisps and staring out the window towards the lake, where Ron and Seamus could be seen feeding the Giant Squid, attempting to lure it closer to shore so they could try to ride its tentacles.
"Hermione?"
"Hmm?" said Hermione abruptly as she turned her head and attention back to the library.
"Could I ask you a question?"
"I'm assuming this has nothing to do with Ancient Runes… all right then, yes. What is it?"
"Well…" Cho blushed furiously, "It's about Harry, of course. We had a bit of a row last year and haven't really spoken since, but I never would have asked him this anyway. It's just that even while we were… I suppose you could call it 'dating', he just never seemed very… interested. In me. And for a long while I thought it was because you and he had something together, but since then it's become abundantly clear that that simply wasn't the case at all."
"It wasn't and isn't."
"No. So then, I suppose I'm just curious… who is it? Or… why do you suppose he'd have that reaction?"
"Harry's not very good with emotions," said Hermione thoughtfully, still chewing a crisp. "Neither is Ron. It's been a right chore being friends with them these past years, because they never understand anything remotely associated with 'feelings'. He may not have been expressing himself well at all. I'm not sure that's it… but I don't think it was someone else, Cho. Either he's simply a complete dullard or we're missing something else entirely. I honestly thought he was a bit mad about you."
"So did I," said Cho slowly, still blushing and looking pointedly down at her runes book. "It… it doesn't really matter any more. I was just curious, you know?"
"So was I."
Still am, thought Hermione before returning her thoughts to the stacks of documents before her.

Upstairs in the Owlery, the boy in question was wondering the exact same thing.

Harry paced the room restlessly, heedless of owl droppings and mice skeletons. Cho. Cho Chang. She'd left his head so quickly, after their falling out last Valentine's Day. He ought to have been at least slightly upset, having lost the affections of someone he'd worked so hard to make notice him, but it hadn't taken long until he no longer thought of her at all. He now supposed that he had simply been preoccupied with D.A. and the rise of Voldemort and the difficulties Professor Umbridge had posed, but it still made little sense. Even now, thinking of her was easy and completely detached from any emotion. Cho. She was beautiful, with her sleek black hair and her graceful stride and easy smile, but he felt nothing. Her hair smelled nice, he recalled desperately. And she cried a lot. But that was all.
It wasn't just Cho, either. It seemed to be girls, to an extent. He liked them, they were lovely, he enjoyed dating them and talking to them and kissing them, but his attentions seemed pitiful compared to the things women seemed easily capable of making Seamus and Dean do. The two often howled in the dormitory about this Ravenclaw or that Hufflepuff. The opposite gender seemed to completely deprive them of all rational thought, and even a large part of their frontal lobe. Hermione had gotten lovelier and lovelier over the last few years, and her once large teeth seemed now to fit easily into her wide enchanting smile, as even Neville had chosen to remark. It seemed logical that he should be interested in her: she was a good friend, nice, pretty, and, oh, what else was he supposed to like about girls? Breasts. Um. Hermione has them. So does Cho. Um. Dean and Seamus talk about them a lot. They, um, look soft. Um.
He was getting nowhere fast.

Down at the lake, Seamus wasn't yet ready to leave the squid alone, but Ron was looking anxiously up at the castle and urging his friend to abandon their tentacle-riding pursuits and come to dinner. I haven't seen Harry all day, thought Ron anxiously, before hastily reminding himself that this was not the reason he wanted to go to dinner, and that Harry could easily take care of himself.
"Yeah," Seamus finally agreed after having chased the squid back to the centre of the lake for the umpteenth time. "I'm out of bait, and we can get more inside. Besides, there may be some lovely laaaaaaadies…" he sang the last bit cheekily, giving Ron a knowing look and straightening his hair and robes.
Ron followed, befuddled and steering his thoughts well clear of Harry.

Harry was now slumped in a clean corner of the Owlery, miserably but doggedly trying not to think of the Dreams.
The Dreams obviously deserved a capital, as they were something completely different from anything Harry had previously experienced. Seeing into the Dark Lord's mind was one thing, but these were far more embarrassing and disturbing, and Harry fervently hoped once again that he had learned Occlumency well enough to block Voldemort from these particular thoughts.
Many of them started the same. Harry would be lying in blackness, warm and comfortable, all his senses dull. The first thing he invariably became aware of was the fact that whatever was happening, he would give anything to keep it from ceasing. He would then notice the warm weight of a body covering him, a mouth exploring his, and as his dream fingers wandered he would inevitably come to the conclusion that the gender of this particular body was male.
He would wake up horrified, covered in sweat with pleasant feelings still rushing through his body as he desperately searched his mind as to why he had possibly dreamt about that.
Other dreams were less embarrassing, but odd nevertheless. One had involved Ron in a dress, and another had had Remus Lupin constantly hugging him and telling Harry that his Patronus was the best Lupin had ever seen. There were quite a few dreams featuring Quidditch, focusing particularly on the after-match showers, in which Harry would often find himself trapped towel-less in the showers, scrabbling to open the locked door until he awoke breathless.
Even Harry knew that he would have reached a simple conclusion if these had been the only dreams he had, but he dreamt of the fairer sex as well. He refused to recognize that most of the females he was attracted to in his dreams were red-headed, lanky, freckly creatures that blabbered constantly about the Chudley Cannons. They were females, and gave him much the same reaction as any of his dreams about his own gender. This was a comfort, as well as an additional confusion.
His train of thought was abruptly interrupted by Ron barging into the Owlery and stopping in his tracks, skidding slightly on the messy floor.
"Oi, Harry, what're you doin' up here? Been looking all over for you…"
"Oh, I was just... thinking about Sirius," he said, grabbing the first plausible excuse that came to his head.
Ron's face clouded. "I can come back, I didn't mean to--"
"No, no!" Harry stood up and walked closer to his best friend, who was frowning worriedly. "I'm better now. Just needed a bit of a break… you were looking for me?"
"Yeah," said Ron with a barely audible sigh of relief. "Dinner?"

Cho's eyes flicked from Hermione's face to Harry's lean form all during supper that night. The two girls occasionally shared a slight giggle before looking away again, pretending that their gazes had not met. The girls had worked out a logical explanation for Harry's predicament in the library that afternoon, and both were eager to observe the subject in order to prove their hypothesis.

Harry flopped into bed late that night tired but restless. He had been up late working on a Transfiguration essay, and Ron had had Prefect duties and had been unable even to distract him, as the redhead had gone straight to bed exhausted upon his return. Hermione had been nearby but unhelpful as usual, claiming that if he didn't do his assignments himself he would never learn. She had also peppered him with a few unusual questions, several of which centered on girls and his opinions of them. Her inquiries hit uncomfortably close to what he had been thinking of earlier that day, so he gave brief, believable answers, and had finally excused himself to retire.
"Look, Harry," Hermione had said as he'd risen, "It's just that… if there's anything, honestly, that you need to talk about, I'm here. Nothing's going to surprise me, and you already know how good I am with secrets."
"Well, thanks, 'Mione, but I'm pretty much at peace with Sirius now."
"I didn't necessarily mean that… you seem as though something's on your mind. Honestly Harry, if there's anything—"
"I know."
"Well," she'd said, slightly flustered at being interrupted and deflated, "I'm glad. Good night then, Harry."
As he'd gone up the stairs he'd turned around and noticed her still looking at him, concerned, but also curious.

He didn't even have time to worry about having the Dreams again before the hangings on the bed next to his moved abruptly as Ron sat straight up and made a hoarse, strangled noise.
"Ron?"
The other boy gasped and spluttered before saying, "H-Harry?"
Harry sat up and flung open his curtains to reveal Ron, stuttering and shaking, his face white.
"What is it?"
But Ron could not speak, only shake his head, several frightened tears running down his face.
It must've been about spiders, thought Harry briefly as he instinctively threw out his arms to comfort his friend.
Ron stumbled out of bed and rushed into them, sobbing quietly into Harry's chest before Harry could even remember the dreams and all he had been worrying over. It struck him that neither he nor Ron were wearing more than their knickers, but suddenly, it didn't matter anymore. It was all just a stupid societal façade, to be forgotten in an instant when Ron needed him.

After a few moments, Ron's breathing slowed and his chest stopped heaving. He pulled his face away from Harry's chest and looked into his best friend's face, his cheeks slowly reddening to match his tear-stained eyes.
" 'm sorry Harry, was just a dream—"
"Hush, Ron, it's fine. I'm here, it's fine."
"It was Aragog…the spider… remember, from our second year? But this time the car didn't come, and he grabbed you… and oh, god…" Ron shuddered. "He wrapped you all up in those awful webs, and then dropped you, and I was so worried… and I was going to rush in, but then he moved towards me, and I was such a coward… I was going to run and just leave you…" Another sob: this one softer and stifled quickly. "But I couldn't even run, and he was just coming and coming, and I couldn't run or save you… So sorry, Harry…"
Harry tried to laugh, but he sensed the fear in Ron's voice and knew it to stem from something far more than just a nightmare.
"I'm here, Ron, right here, he didn't get me, it's all right, it's all right, I'm right here," he whispered, leaning back on his pillows and hugging the taller boy close to him.
Ron's head dropped heavily to Harry's shoulder and allowed Harry's hands to run through the red hair, slowly calming him.
"I could sleep again, maybe," Ron murmured at last, moving down the bed and snuggling in close to Harry, his head pillowed on Harry's stomach. Harry reached a hand down to curl protectively around Ron's shoulder, who fell asleep almost instantly. Harry, however, lay awake for a long time thinking.
The Dreams didn't matter. Cho didn't matter. Differences between girls and boys didn't matter. Who he was supposed to be attracted to didn't matter. Labels and understanding himself didn't matter. Ron mattered.
Ron definitely mattered.

When he awoke, the curtains had hastily been pushed partway open, and bright sunlight fell across the bed, warming the sheets, which had been carefully been tucked in over Harry's wiry frame. Ron was gone, but the spot where he had lain was still warm. Harry propped himself up on his elbows, feeling with one hand the warmth slowing ebbing from the bed. Ron would be embarrassed about last night's episode, doubtless. Harry himself was mortified at the memory of the thoughts he'd had after Ron had crawled in with him, obviously concerned only with spiders and not with… him.
Harry slowly extricated himself from the covers, pulled a few clothes on over his head and went off in search of breakfast and his best friend.

Ron wasn't in the common room.
Ron wasn't at breakfast, but Hermione was, and as full of pesky questions as she had been the night before.
Ron wasn't in the library, but when had he ever taken to hanging around in there?
Ron wasn't with Seamus or Dean, who were loitering around the entrance to the Ravenclaw common room, apparently in hopes that one of the objects of their affections would pass by.
Ron wasn't down at the lake, underneath the tree where he usually liked to sit and throw rocks at the smooth surface of the water.

Finally, in complete desperation, Harry turned back to the castle and started the long stairs up to the Owlery, the last place he could think to look.

Ron was hunched in a corner, petting Pigwidgeon absentmindedly and chewing on a finger. He looked up as Harry entered and flushed scarlet to the tips of his ears.
"What are you hanging about in here for?" Harry questioned, looking hard at the lanky red-headed boy, who was desperately trying to shrink all the way into his robes.
"Oh, just… thinking, y'know."
"You don't think. That's not the Ron I know. You're hiding."
"Am not."
"It's about last night, isn't it? Look, Ron, it was just a nightmare. I'm sorry you have to go and feel so bloody stupid about it, but I don't care. Don't be embarrassed or anything… If I'd had a dream about a dementor, I would've been shaking under your covers faster than you could say 'expelliarmus'."
"It's not that."
"Well, what is it then? It's got to be something, and it's probably related to that, because you weren't acting this idiotic yesterday."
"Oh, so now I'm an idiot, am I?"
Harry nearly pulled out his hair in frustration. He hated when Ron shut up like this, though it was typical, due to Ron's vehement aversion to discussing anything connected with feelings. There was nothing he could do to cheer Ron up except distract him.
"No. Goddammit, no. Look… never mind. I don't need to know. Do you want to come down and slaughter me in chess?"
Ron looked up at him for a long moment. He seemed to come to an internal conclusion as his face cracked into a grin.
"Yeah, I reckon I could do that."

The game had begun in rather stony silence at first, but as Harry lost more and more pieces in spectacularly bad moves, Ron lightened up enough to begin ribbing his opponent and mocking his laughable tactics. However, after the first match, Ron slowly began taking longer and longer to deliberate his moves, and it became evident once more that something was on his mind. He continued to scan the common room as it slowly emptied, the other Gryffindors leaving to enjoy the sunshine, and his resolve gradually strengthened when they were the only two remaining. Harry knew better than to push the matter, and his patience was rewarded when Ron looked up, chewing his lip and trying desperately to appear nonchalant.
"So, Cho Chang was asking a lot of questions about you after dinner last night."
"Was she? What sort of things?"
"Oh, nothing really, just what you were up to. Seemed a little weird though, after all this time..." Ron looked up again casually, obviously searching Harry for an explanation.
"Funny, I was just thinking about her."
Ron flushed scarlet, made a choking noise, turned it into a cough, and stared at Harry.
"I don't know, I was just wondering why I hadn't ever really been all that interested in her… not like anything's wrong with her…" Harry felt himself blushing horribly as well.
"No, there isn't," Ron agreed, his voice still strangled. A chill ran down Harry's back.
"Ron, you don't like her, do you?"
"Me?" Ron had obviously not been expecting this, and was taken aback. "Merlin, no. I… just continue with what you were saying."
"Well, I didn't like her. And I was wondering why… and…" he decided to just rush ahead with it, "I think it's because I might not really… completely… like, um, girls."
Ron stared.
"And by 'not like girls' do you mean 'like boys'?"
"Yeah, well, um, maybe. I… I like girls, but I also… like boys. Ron, this isn't horribly disgusting or unnatural to you, is it?"
"No," said Ron, his mouth still open. "No. I just… Harry…"
Ron's next move involved knocking over three pawns and a bishop, who screamed in indignation as he launched himself across the board at a pleasantly confused Harry, who had very little time to react or process what was happening before the kiss had ended. Ron continued to lean over the chessboard, his lips just centimeters from Harry's, and sly grin plastered over his freckly features.
Harry was rather breathless.
"So…" he gasped, "you don't really… like girls either?"
"And by 'not like girls' you mean 'like boys'?"
"Yes…"
"So it would appear." Ron grinned again and kissed Harry even harder as he struggled to climb across the board without breaking contact with Harry's mouth.
"Oi, lads!" Harry's knight piped up. "This en't how you play chess!"
Ron looked down at the board contemptuously at the protesting black knight.
"I was the black knight, once, eh? I feel a bit bad about doing this then, but… Queen, get him."
Ron took the time to edge around the chessboard and onto Harry's lap as his queen lumbered across the board to remove all complaint.