No beta in this short notice, and one sorely needed - the following likely has a weird mix of British and American idioms. (I'm neither.) Even so.
---
Harry was sort of spindly and had big lumpy knees. Ron knew he himself was even spindlier and lumpier. Meaning, neither of them was exactly Fleur Delacour. Ron imagined that the two of them making out would probably look like two spiders fighting over a piece of fluff.
Despite all that, here Ron was, with Harry sitting cross-legged on his bed at Hogwarts, shaggy head bent over an issue of Quidditch Weekly, and all Ron wanted to do was pull him over and snog him silly.
It was stupid because Ron was fairly sure that Hermione had a kind of a claim on him and he was also pretty sure he liked her and he was really sure he had had a thing for Fleur Delacour. Sure, 'these are difficult, searching years' and 'a lot of wizards go through a phase'. None of that helped the fact that he, Ron Weasley, wanted to kiss his best friend so bad it almost hurt.
All right, since he was being honest with himself, it wasn't the first time, either. He could remember a dozen cases where he'd looked at the back of Harry's neck and really, really wanted to run a thumb across it. And that was just this year.
It was just that it had kind of hit him recently that people die and he'd always had this feeling that maybe neither of them would survive school--
Harry looked up and saw him staring, and Ron looked away quickly, hiding his eyes behind his bangs. Great. It was going to get awkward now. He'd seen that look in Harry's eye before, that searching look, when he was making his mind up about what was going on inside Ron's head.
Ron pulled his legs up and hugged them to himself, and even through the embarrassment he could still feel the pull. Like touching Harry's skin was something he had to do before the end, even if it was just once.
Mental. Because there was nothing to prove here and he and Harry had a bond that didn't need to get mixed up with 'confusion' and dating and whatever--
"Hey. Um." Harry was no good at words either. "Let's just see what happens, right? No point in worrying." Ron figured he meant about destiny and danger and the future and all that.
Ron nodded and swallowed, desire hot in his belly.
-
It was a black, howling night outside. The windowpane's rattling had never kept Ron awake before, and he suspected that wasn't the problem this time either, because Harry had climbed in beside him some thirty minutes before.
"My corner's too drafty," he'd said, but Ron figured that meant he'd been having nightmares. It had happened before.
It was a big bed. They didn't even need to touch each other to share it, but Harry was wrapped half around Ron, already asleep.
This was how Ron knew that someone up there had it in for him.
Somewhere the clouds shifted and a sliver of moonlight swam across them through a slit in the drapes. Turning his head, Ron could see Harry's eyes were closed. His breathing was deep, and his arm across Ron's chest was heavy.
He just needed to get it out of his system. Right?
Ron realized that what he was about to do was both creepy and pathetic, but he didn't know what massively stupid thing he might do instead if he didn't - get it out of his system. That was all this was.
He shifted carefully, turning to face Harry. Harry didn't stir, but his arm flopped down, encircling Ron. Their noses were nearly touching. Their lips were an inch apart.
Heart racing, Ron closed the distance between them.
Harry's arm tightened around him.
Ron would have freaked out, except Harry was kissing him and he must have been awake all the time and oh my stars it was sweet. It shouldn't have been, with their teeth and noses getting in the way, but somehow all their lumps fitted together and it just felt right.
Ron kept his eyes shut as Harry pulled away. His heart was hammering against his chest.
"You're totally bent, you know that?" Harry said. "I was asleep."
"Sod off." Ron grinned back. "No you weren't."
"You started it, though."
"Sure I did. How's that draft, Harry?"
"A little louder, Ron. I don't think you woke Dean yet."
They made out some more, Harry's skin and lips and a warm thin frame against Ron, easy as a dream. When eventually they rolled over to sleep, Ron may have had something like a stupid grin on his face.
Point was, they were all right. That's all he'd needed to know.
Filled: Bent
---
Harry was sort of spindly and had big lumpy knees. Ron knew he himself was even spindlier and lumpier. Meaning, neither of them was exactly Fleur Delacour. Ron imagined that the two of them making out would probably look like two spiders fighting over a piece of fluff.
Despite all that, here Ron was, with Harry sitting cross-legged on his bed at Hogwarts, shaggy head bent over an issue of Quidditch Weekly, and all Ron wanted to do was pull him over and snog him silly.
It was stupid because Ron was fairly sure that Hermione had a kind of a claim on him and he was also pretty sure he liked her and he was really sure he had had a thing for Fleur Delacour. Sure, 'these are difficult, searching years' and 'a lot of wizards go through a phase'. None of that helped the fact that he, Ron Weasley, wanted to kiss his best friend so bad it almost hurt.
All right, since he was being honest with himself, it wasn't the first time, either. He could remember a dozen cases where he'd looked at the back of Harry's neck and really, really wanted to run a thumb across it. And that was just this year.
It was just that it had kind of hit him recently that people die and he'd always had this feeling that maybe neither of them would survive school--
Harry looked up and saw him staring, and Ron looked away quickly, hiding his eyes behind his bangs. Great. It was going to get awkward now. He'd seen that look in Harry's eye before, that searching look, when he was making his mind up about what was going on inside Ron's head.
Ron pulled his legs up and hugged them to himself, and even through the embarrassment he could still feel the pull. Like touching Harry's skin was something he had to do before the end, even if it was just once.
Mental. Because there was nothing to prove here and he and Harry had a bond that didn't need to get mixed up with 'confusion' and dating and whatever--
"Hey. Um." Harry was no good at words either. "Let's just see what happens, right? No point in worrying." Ron figured he meant about destiny and danger and the future and all that.
Ron nodded and swallowed, desire hot in his belly.
-
It was a black, howling night outside. The windowpane's rattling had never kept Ron awake before, and he suspected that wasn't the problem this time either, because Harry had climbed in beside him some thirty minutes before.
"My corner's too drafty," he'd said, but Ron figured that meant he'd been having nightmares. It had happened before.
It was a big bed. They didn't even need to touch each other to share it, but Harry was wrapped half around Ron, already asleep.
This was how Ron knew that someone up there had it in for him.
Somewhere the clouds shifted and a sliver of moonlight swam across them through a slit in the drapes. Turning his head, Ron could see Harry's eyes were closed. His breathing was deep, and his arm across Ron's chest was heavy.
He just needed to get it out of his system. Right?
Ron realized that what he was about to do was both creepy and pathetic, but he didn't know what massively stupid thing he might do instead if he didn't - get it out of his system. That was all this was.
He shifted carefully, turning to face Harry. Harry didn't stir, but his arm flopped down, encircling Ron. Their noses were nearly touching. Their lips were an inch apart.
Heart racing, Ron closed the distance between them.
Harry's arm tightened around him.
Ron would have freaked out, except Harry was kissing him and he must have been awake all the time and oh my stars it was sweet. It shouldn't have been, with their teeth and noses getting in the way, but somehow all their lumps fitted together and it just felt right.
Ron kept his eyes shut as Harry pulled away. His heart was hammering against his chest.
"You're totally bent, you know that?" Harry said. "I was asleep."
"Sod off." Ron grinned back. "No you weren't."
"You started it, though."
"Sure I did. How's that draft, Harry?"
"A little louder, Ron. I don't think you woke Dean yet."
They made out some more, Harry's skin and lips and a warm thin frame against Ron, easy as a dream. When eventually they rolled over to sleep, Ron may have had something like a stupid grin on his face.
Point was, they were all right. That's all he'd needed to know.