Yay! I got the first really part of plot in there! Yeah, I was really looking foward to that, and I'm glad I could finally bring it up. Okay, that was a turning point. Things are going to pretty much start going downhill for poor Harry now. ...and possibly other people. That's undecided as of yet. Like I said, this is going to be really angsty and stuff. And not just for Harry if things start going the way at the keyboard that they're going in my head. One never knows. That doesn't mean that there isn't going to be something good here and there. I've got a really good idea planned, that my sister helped me with. Yay sissy! So, yes, anyway, I've done a lot of talking so far, so I'm just gping to be quiet now. There really isn't that much left to say anyway. Heeheehee!

Disclaimer: Nope. Still Harry Potter-less... though I wish I had the rights to Sirius and Remus, because then, they would be my little jungle stripper boys. Life would be soooo good then.

Warnings: Slight slash scene, nothing to really be squicked about. And a typical cliché scene. You'll see what I'm talking about when you get there. But the classics are always the best; they never get old. Yay classics!

Chapter 6 - Coveted

It had been a few weeks since Harry's "episode" at the cook-out. It seemed like everyone around him were on pins and needles. They spoke cautiously to him. No one brought up the "episode" to him, perhaps for fear he would pitch a hissy tantrum on them as he had done to his parents. Harry felt justified in the argument, though. They had still been harboring the notion of seeking help for him, and he was not crazy. He didn't need to listen to some Mr. Rogers-type asking him how butterflies or ink blots made him feel. Justified as he had been, or thought he had been, he was grounded for yelling at his parents in such a manner.

Being confined to his room was driving Harry completely stir crazy. He longed to be out with his friends... well, Ron, at least, since it seemed like Hermione was constantly busy with some thing or another. She had been acting strangely lately, and Harry would have looked into it, but no, he was banned to his room straight after work and school. Work had been cut down when Remus had gone into hyper maternal mode, which had occured after his "episode." He was completely disgusted that everyone was treating him like a lunatic or a man on his deathbed. Then again, it gave him a strange sense of deja vu. The whole thing felt familiar. He'd been in something similar to this situation before, but he just couldn't recall.

Presently, he was standing outside in the bright sunlight, trying to pull his thoughts together. Cho was clinging to his arm, nuzzling it with her cheek, making it very difficult for Harry to conentrate on what he knew he had to do. He had been putting off breaking up with Cho for some time now. He had to end it. She may have been the only person who didn't handle him like a particularly fragile piece of porceline, but he couldn't be with her anymore, not if he wanted to find what that restless feeling in him was seeking.

Three times before he'd been in this exact same position, and he had failed each time. There was just something about when Cho turned those big doe eyes on him that he lost all his nerve. After that, he would usually end up in a closet somewhere with her with lots of kissing and groping and hot teenage action. And he would feel like total dirt. The more he kept putting it off, the worse he felt. It had to be soon for the sake of his conscience.

"Cho, I need to talk to you..."

There she went again. Those eyes would be the death of him, he just knew it. She was such a fraglie girl underneath it all. He didn't want, for the world, to break her heart. He knew he was going to have to be cruel to be kind. To hurt her a little now would save her from even worse pain later on if he kept pretending that he loved her the way she loved him. But those eyes... They were so vulnerable, so pleading... She really did need someone to look after her.

"What is it, Harry? Is there something wrong?"

Harry sighed. It was useless. He was fighting a losing battle. When she looked at him like that, his heart just melted for her. He absolutely couldn't do it when she looked at him like that.

"No, Cho..." He smiled at her. "Nothing's wrong. Just wanted to tell you I won't be able to make the concert Saturday. I'm grounded."

"Oh," she pouted. Then she smiled. Slowly, her arms wrapped around his neck. He knew what was coming next. He knew, and was helpless to stop it. Those eyes were sucking him in. There was nothing for it but to just give into her. Cho Chang always got what she wanted.

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"Bloody hell, Harry! I can't believe your parents are making you miss the concert Saturday! You saved up for months for tickets!"

"I know, Ron."

They both sighed. The Flogging Molly concert... The whole gang had been looking foward to it for near eight months. And now, when it was just four days away, Harry was under lock and key at home in the evenings. He was crushed. The concert had been more important to him than the fancy racing bike he'd so coveted Christmas when he was seven. This concert was the highlight of his teenage life. People would be talking about it for months. He would be a social outcast... well, more so than he already was.

"Someone needs to talk some sense into your Mum and Dad. It just won't be the same without you... Those tickets are non-refundable, for crying out loud!"

"I know... Take lots of pictures for me? I'll give you some money for a t-shirt, too..." Ron nodded glumly.

The two boys were walking home together that afternoon. Hermione had given them a rushed excuse of having to stay after school for a project, an apology, and then fled from them. They suspected that there was something their friend was hiding from them. She had been acting very strange lately. They had a bigger problem to worry about, though: How would Harry go to the concert? Silence prevailed between them as they both pondered. Sneaking out would never work. James and Lily had found Chole's little escape route, and pulled the makeshift stairs from the side of the house. That had been their only hope. It seemed as if they were simply going to have to plead their case with the Potters.

That was easier said than done. For two hours, Harry aruged his point with his mother and father who, at first, absolutely refused to see things his way. Finally, they relented. Harry gave a whoop of triumph and hugged Ron tight. It was the best news he'd heard in a long time. He hugged both of his parents tight. He just couldn't thank them enough.

"Now, you two boys go upstairs," Lily said. "I'm sure you have a big test to study for. I'll bring up snacks in a jiff."

Harry and Ron ran upstairs to the former's room. The smiles couldn't be pulled from their faces.

"This is wicked," Ron said, happiness radiating from him. He tossed his bag aside and flopped backwards onto Harry's bed. Harry sat down beside him.

"I can't believe they gave in! This is... This is..."

"This is wicked!" Ron repeated. With an evil grin, he tackled Harry back onto the bed. The two wrestled around on Harry's bed. They were laughing, smiling, light-hearted. It was a beautiful scene.

Ron finally managed to get Harry pinned under him. They peered into each other's eyes deeply. Suddenly, the mood shifted. Harry's senses heighted and attuned to every aspect of Ron's body pressed against his. Breathing became harder. It stopped altogether as Ron reached down, carefully pushing a lock of Harry's hair from his face. In all the years that they had known each other, neither of them had ever felt those feelings for each other, those warm fuzzies in the pits of their stomachs or that unfamiliar twisting and tingle of their insides.

Time seemed to be grinding down to a slow pace. Ron was so close that his breath was fogging Harry's glasses. His heart was beating so loud he was sure Ron could hear it. He looked up at his friend, as if seeing him for the first time. He took in the pink lips, the pale skin, the freckles, the ginger-colored hair that fell all around him. Ron was so close that Harry could smell him. His nose picked up the smell of soap and clean clothes, deodorant and the smell of Mrs. Weasley's delicious cooking, and a smell that was distinctly Ron in every way. It was intoxicating.

Harry's breathing hitched as Ron's face lowered to his. The red hair tickled his face. His heart was beating a tandem against his chest. Small chills were running up and down his spine, doing nothing to stop the twisting and tingling below his belt. Everything came to a halt as Ron's lips met his own, softly and unsure. There was nothing else in the world but the two of them. Harry's lips pressed back against Ron's. His hands reached up and found Ron's hips, pulling him down closer.

The kiss was quick to escalate. Tongues moved between their mouths. Harry's fingers were digging into Ron's hips as the two moved against each other. It was an amazing feeling. The concert no longer mattered to Harry; in fact, nothing mattered to Harry anymore. Ron was what he wanted. Ron was what he coveted. Ron was what he needed.

Ron's trembling fingers found their way between them and brushed against Harry's stomach. Harry moaned deeply into Ron's mouth. He ground up hard against Ron. Pure and utter ecastcy... The movements of Harry's body urged Ron on.

Something clicked between them. Reality had come crashing back down. Harry opened his eyes to look at Ron, who was still atop him and frozen. Ron quickly jerked his hand out of Harry's pants as if he'd been burned. Harry blushed deeply.

"What are we doing," whispered Ron.

"I don't... I..."

Ron jumped up and began gathering his school stuff, leaving Harry panting on the bed. It had been so perfect, so wonderful... then reality had reared it's ugly head and made them both realize what they were doing. They had almost went at it like rabbits... Harry barely paid attention to the mumbled excuses Ron was spouting off as he was rushing towards the door. It was better to let him go. As it was, he wasn't even sure if Ron would ever speak to him again.

Long after Ron was gone, Harry still laid in the same spot. He didn't understand what he was feeling inside. Ron was his friend. His best friend. What in the world had he been thinking? He was probably at home puking his guts out. Maybe he wouldn't ever talk to Harry again because he thought Harry was a great bloody fag. That thought depressed him deeply. The last thing he wanted was to lose Ron's friendship. Harry hoped against hope that Ron would talk to him again, though he couldn't blame him if he didn't - guys just didn't go around snogging their best friends, who were also guys.

There was a knock at his door. Lily stuck her head in. "I brought the snacks up, honey. Why did Ron leave in such a hurry?"

"He remembered his mum needed him home for something," Harry lied easily.

His mother didn't ask anymore questions. She put the snack tray down, kissed his head, then left him alone to his thoughts. She knew when to push and when to just let things lie. Harry felt a surge of love towards her for it. He really didn't want to have that conversation with her. When she had gone, Harry turned onto his side and curled up around a pillow. Slowly, he closed his eyes. He could have sworn he still felt Ron's hands on him, and the calming effect they had on him allowed him to drift into a dreamless sleep.

Author's Response

emurez: Heeheehee, it was kinda dramatic, wasn't it?