Fairy Tales

Fairy Tales

With a funny tickling feeling in his stomach, Ron pointed his wand at his already sleeping friend and muttered, "Somnia." The Boy Who Slept sighed once deeply and turned around in his four-poster bed, the positive side effect of this being that he now lay on his back. Something like excitement mingled with the feeling in Ron's stomach, as he watched the other boy's face more closely now in the moonlight that cast pale lively shadows over his face. His eyelids looked translucent in this light and slightly vulnerable without his glasses. The thin scar, lying in a shadow cast by his untidy jet-black hair, almost vanished.

For a brief moment Ron wondered how he could still look so uniquely Harry even with his "markings" gone. Then, without further hesitation, he took a deep breath and bent down over the sleeping wizard's face meeting his outstanding pink lips with his own. Instantly the funny feeling increased, as he felt the soft warmth of the other boy's breath inter-mingling with his own. Harry's lips, slightly parted in his sleep, tasted different from what Ron had expected. Indeed it was much more intoxicating than he had wanted but never dared to hope they would be. The tickling feeling turned into some sort of warm, filling, steady and somehow reassuring whirl, that spread throughout his body. Supporting himself by placing one arm on either side of Harry, Ron found his tongue entering the small gap the other boy's lips so willingly offered, the tip of his tongue meeting its delicate counterpart. Reluctantly at first, and then a little more hungrily. He closed his eyes, a feeling of tiny stars coming to live in his stomach and chest. Harry's lips pressed against his own somewhat more. The sleeping boy's tongue began to play along with his. It was - a response?! Ron froze in mid-movement. His eyes flew open. Harry's were still closed. Ron pulled quickly away. In order to overcome his shock, he took several deep breaths, failing utterly to steady his heartbeat again. Harry was still fast asleep. He pointed his wand at the boy and muttered in a throaty voice, "Finite Incantatem."

Lying in his own bed again, the whirl in his stomach having increased its tempo, he stared up at the ceiling. 'Nothing,' he asserted flatly, 'I felt absolutely nothing.' A prickle went through his body, as one of the remaining tiny stars died away in his chest. 'Stupid. Me having a crush on Harry... Sometimes Hermione can make really stupid presumptions. Why did I even listen to her?' He rolled onto his side and closed his eyes.

That night, he would certainly fall into an uneasy sleep; but it would take him a while. Even more irritating than the funny feeling in his stomach - which he could very well ignore, since he really felt nothing - was the knowledge that through his prism of experience much could be said about Hermione. That she ever made stupid presumptions, however, was certainly not one of them.

***

When the waking charm he had put on his wand woke Harry up the next morning, he kept his eyes closed. He rolled on to his back and tried to remember the dream he had been having. It had been such a good one. He had been kissing. It had been fun. Strangely he couldn't remember whom he had been kissing. He could only remember the feeling it had given him.

Sighing he opened his eyes, gripped his wand so it would stop playing its annoying tune and stood up, parting the canopy surrounding his bed. He wanted to tell Ron about his dream. But Ron was already gone. Harry blinked. Normally it was Harry who woke up first. Ron wouldn't normally bother to get up before Harry woke him. They had an unspoken agreement. Whereas Harry fully relied on Ron wherever information about the wizarding world was concerned, Harry was the one responsible for practical things such as getting up in time or saving seats. Secretly Harry liked to wake Ron up. His face would look so cutely squashed, often revealing on which side he had slept. His hair was all ruffled and... well, Harry loved to see him like that.

Harry was in an outstandingly good mood throughout the entire day. Generally if one has been dreaming of kissing, one would daydream about the person one had been entangled with. But since Harry didn't know who had shared those kisses with him, he could only daydream about the pleasurable feeling he had been woken up with and the faint taste of Chocolate Frogs on his lips. He had an idea, though, about whom he would have liked that person to have been, but even in a dream that wasn't likely to happen.

***

"You did WHAT?!"

"Shush. Would you please be quiet!"

*urgent whisper* "You did what?!"

Ron passed one hand through his hair in frustration. "You understood me quite right. And it's all your fault!"

"My fault?! Why would this be my fault?"

"You started all this stupid 'you've got a crush on him' stuff."

Hermione's eyes widened. "And? Do you?"

"No! Of course, not. But because of you, I kissed him, therefore it's your fault!"

"Listen Ron. I didn't know I'm such a good actress. It was a joke! And anyway, what's your problem, if you don't have a crush on him, then -"

"You don't understand. Of course, I haven't got a crush on him. He is my best friend, how could I?"

"This didn't bother us, did it?

"Yes, but -"

"I know! So what's your problem?"

"I can't forget it," he said in a desperate, urgent tone.

"What?" Hermione asked blankly.

"The kiss. It was... intoxicating."

"You mean, you feel addicted?"

"You make it sound so negative...."

***

"Somnia." 'What the hell am I doing here?'

Again Ron was looking down at Harry's sleeping face. He had to admit that in his own special way Harry could be called beautiful. But maybe 'handsome' was the more appropriate term for a boy. In the pale moonlight his skin appeared to be as white as snow, contrasting skilfully with his ebony-black hair, the only colour being the fair pink of his lips. They really made it hard for Ron to resist, especially as he knew what else those lips had to offer besides their beautiful soft look - their taste.

He closed his eyes and the distance to meet with the source of his temptation. Instantly the fairies in his stomach awoke and began again their wonderful whirling warm ballet. Harry's lips parted willingly under his. Entering Ron took in fully the taste he had been longing for all day. This time he opened his eyes only briefly as Harry's tongue began to respond tenderly to his. Ron tried to support himself the best he could, but after the first few minutes he had to put some weight onto Harry's body. The increasing warmth and bodily contact unconsciously adding to his lust, Ron began to kiss the other boy more hungrily, more feverishly. And if he hadn't known that Harry was fast asleep - he checked on this occasionally - he could have imagined him to be very well awake, since they both had their eyes closed and Harry played along so well in his sleeping state. It was dazzling and Ron only pulled away, when he found himself kissing his way over the corner of Harry's mouth a little downwards and realized that he was about to make his way to the curve of his neck where usually his next step would be... His eyes flew open. That had been a close one. If he had given Harry a hickey... It was only as he started to straighten again that he noticed that the Sleeping Beauty had swung an arm around him. He took the arm gently away from the small of his back and gave one last look at Harry's face, as he stood up to leave. He had kissed the boy so feverishly that his lips were flushed. They had taken on a colour as red as blood. "Finite Incantatem."

Cuddling under his cover, Ron tried to banish the wonderfully intoxicating feeling the best he could in order to make the fairies end their feast. 'Oh God, if only I could simply ask him. It would be so wonderful, if it wasn't so strange and secreted.'

***

Throughout the week Hermione noticed two different things about her best friends. As Harry's good mood was constantly increasing - his grin every morning at breakfast became almost unbearable - the tips of Ron's ears had less and less time with each passing day in which to recover from their constant flush, whenever Harry was around.

One Potions lesson - Snape had put them into pairs with the Slytherins for one of his more nasty potions - she observed Harry watching Ron. That dreamy expression appeared again, mingled with his 'breakfast-grin'. Hermione did a blinked, but she wasn't mistaken. The Boy Who Daydreamed had his gaze lingering charmingly on Ron, who was so desperately engaged in trying to come to terms with Millicent Bulstrode over a potion that he didn't even notice. It was only when Malfoy - whom he was partnering out of tradition - snapped at him, that Harry actually noticed that he had been staring. Apparently he had stirred the potion so clumsily that the bubbles had splashed on one of Malfoy's precious designer shirts.) He turned to Malfoy with a stunned sort of expression - Hermione could very well understand that the realization must have come as a real shock - and hurried to clear up the mess without even retorting Slytherin's haughty accusations. As soon as he was done with that, however, his view returned to Ron and he shook his head, confusion plainly written across his face. The rest of the lesson Hermione saw him concentrate hard on his task, quite obviously as a means of distraction.

Well, that was a useful piece of information.

***

"You did it again," she observed dryly, upon meeting up with Ron later on in the day.

"Yes. How did you know?"

"You mean besides your ear tips being about to catch fire next time you see him? Did you notice his unwavering smile? It's yours."

"I wonder who he pictures in his dreams...." Hermione bit her lower lip hard to keep silent. Ron lowered his head onto his arms, resting against one of the library's tables. "Herm?"

"Yes?"

"What shall I do?"

"Well, maybe... tell him?" she suggested innocently.

Ron's head jerked up. "Are you mad? Tell him?!"

It was hope against hope. She grinned despite herself. "Tell him."

*blankly* "Tell him?"

"Yes."

"Tell him... What exactly?"

The urge was almost insufferable. It cost Hermione every bit of discipline she could muster not to slap her hand hard to her forehead or even better simply slap Ron. She took a deep breath and said, as if explaining to a small child, "Ron. Do you have any idea what makes this kiss so intoxicating for you? Any idea what makes a kiss worth sharing?"

"Don't start this again. I'm not - in - love -" But Hermione silenced him with one glance. "Well... even if - 'if' being the operating word - I had a crush on him," he began slowly, "What good would it do to tell him? It would only make him feel awkward, whenever I'm around and he would only back away from me," he said sadly.

Hermione, however, wasn't so sure about that. Not sure at all.

It seemed that maybe that the two of them might need a little push.

***

"Somnia." Ron was really getting the hang of it. Caught up in the tower chamber he shared with Harry alone, he pulled away the curtains of Sleeping Beauty's four-poster bed. For the seventh night in a row his face was illuminated by moonlight. Translucent. Beautiful.

Ron sat down on the edge of his bed shoving his guilty conscience aside. If Harry knew, would he hate him for what he did? But then again Hermione was right in one thing at least, Harry was in a really good mood every morning, since...

What was astounding for Ron was that the excitement he felt didn't lessen, but increased from night to night. By now ancient powers seemed to celebrate Beltane inside of him, as his lips neared Harry's. They lightened the fires the moment they met, blessed the stars and the Goddess, when he pulled the cover off Harry's topless body and hummed along with his heart, when his sleeping prince pulled him near.

It was a miracle to him, the way Harry could play along so very well being asleep as he was. Was he a sleep walker, perhaps? Ron's family themselves all usually slept so deeply that he might not have noticed the signs even if Harry did have that problem. Nevertheless, it was wonderful! Harry didn't just embrace him, he also responded hungrily to his kisses and cuddled near; and whenever Ron took a short break for breath - he could swear the other boy even smiled at him! Smiled with his eyes closed. Smiled so stunningly beautifully that every smile blew into the flames inside of him, sending brightening sparks everywhere.

And with every night, every smile, every kiss Ron had grown keener to explore more, fascinated at the reactions he caused, fascinated at the shivers that ran through Harry's body, when he kissed him tenderly in various places. Blissfully he took in Harry's scent, as the dancers took in the fire heated night-air - both full of magic, full of miracle. He gently traced one finger up Harry's throat and face and scar and... eyes. He wanted him to see him. He wanted to be looked at, to be watched, to be... recognised. But most of all, he wanted that wonderful smile to reach up to those green eyes, whenever they fell upon him. He didn't want those eyes to be hidden anymore.

His breath suddenly knocked out, he rolled onto his side. For a moment he lay quite still next to Harry, who... cuddled nearer. Did he know who the person in his dreams was? Of course he didn't! Ron stood up and kindly pulled the cover over him again. He closed the curtains, then paused, holding them open with one hand. "Finite Incantatem." The curtains fell closed and the Boy Who Slept was shut from his view.

***

When Ron ascended the steps to his dormitory the next evening, he slowed down when he heard Harry speaking to someone.

"Thanks for the book."

"Was it helpful?" It was Hermione.

"It contained some information about repetitive dreams, yes." Ron stopped dead just in front of the door. It stood slightly ajar.

"And?"

"It said that they're either a sign of a strong hidden fear or desire or longing." Peering through the gap, he could see Harry sitting at their desk, his cheeks slightly blushed. "Well... who wouldn't long for such kisses?" Ron smiled inwardly.

"Any idea who the dream kisser is?"

Now Harry blushed seriously. Ron clenched his hands. Harry spoke slowly. "Truth to be told, I knew it since the third time I dreamed of... well, since I dreamed this."

"Are you going to tell me, who it is or is this some sort of big secret?" Oh Hermione could be such a good actress! She sat on Ron's bed with her back to the door, but he could exactly imagine the innocent, curious look, emphasising her almost childlike tone.

Silence arose and Ron saw Harry, giving Hermione some proving looks, clearly stating that she had to keep quiet. Then he said in a awkward voice, "It's Ron."

The Dream Kisser's heart skipped several beats. His eyes widened. Oh my God! Did Harry know? If he knew... But he thought it to be a dream. Only a dream! Ron was safe. But he had to stop it. He had to stop it tonight. Or else...

Ron took a deep breath, descended a few steps and made his way up again louder than usual. Then he opened the door.

"Oh. Hi Hermione." He put on a smile. "Anyone like to play a game of chess?"

***

He had ended up playing against Harry down in the common room. They had a nice place near the window. Ron couldn't help but notice Harry's mind was clearly somewhere else, which was quite good, since it distracted him from the obvious mistakes Ron himself was making. If he lost, it would give everything away far too easily.

It was Harry's turn when Hermione, who was making tea at the fireplace called, "Ron, would you please help me with the kettle and the mugs?" Ron stood up and crossed the room. He knelt down next to Hermione, who took the kettle from the fire and put in the tealeaves. She smiled and handed it to him. "I wanted to ask you, if you made up your mind," she said softly.

"About what?"

"You know what I'm talking about."

"I will end it tonight. I will say goodbye and -"

"You mean kiss him goodbye."

"Well, yes."

"So you don't want to tell him."

"No." Ron stood up with the kettle and walked over to Harry.

"I see...," Hermione said quietly. She took the three mugs in one hand and with the other opened a minute vial, the contents of which she dropped into the farthest to the right. She then followed Ron, and put the mugs down, placing the rightmost in front of Harry and pouring the tea into the mugs. "Hope you like it. It's rosehip tea." Smiling, she watched them empty each their mug as they played.

***

"Somnia." The last time. Intoxicatingly innocent, the prince lay in his bed. (Who would believe that this boy had already killed?) This time Ron wouldn't give in into temptation. He would end it all tonight. One last kiss. One last.

He sat down on Harry's bed. The butterflies in his stomach flew with dampened spirits. Slowly. Nauseating. Ron smiled. Well, at least Harry had recognised him in his sleep. Hadn't that been what he had wished for? His mood brightening somewhat with this thought, he bent down to give this last kiss. His eyes fell closed, as he met Harry's lips. The taste was bittersweet. More sweet than bitter though. Harry's lips parted. Ron refrained from entering, only held the kiss for several more moments. Then he pulled slowly away. He kept his eyes closed a few moments longer, hoping to memorise the feeling. Kneeling upright over Harry, one leg on each side, he finally opened his eyes. The Boy Who Slept No More was watching him openly, propped up on his arms. Ron's eyes widened. Harry smiled. When the smile reached his eyes, fairy lights lightened up the evergreen. Reaching up gently with one hand, Harry pushed a strand of red hair behind Ron's ear. The tender touch sent shivers up his spine and Harry's hand continued its way past his ear, down the back of his neck, rested on his back and... pulled him close. As their lips united, he still could feel Harry's smile against his. For a moment he closed his eyes, but Harry's were still open, when he looked up again. Warmth spread throughout his body. Bright. Cheerful. He pulled away. Only slightly. Only enough to look at his prince properly once more. As Harry whispered, Ron felt his breath against his lips.

"Am I awake now?"

Ron made the small distance between them lessen again. "Yes."

"Good." Harry smiled. He was smiling at him. A smile that reached his eyes. Eyes that were open. Looked at him. Closed only blissfully when they kissed.

Harry watched his Dream Kisser fall asleep merrily hours later, as the first lights of dawn wove threads of fairy fire into his tousled hair. And as he watched his sleep, a funny tickling feeling filled his stomach and mingled with excitement and the thrilled sensation of dancing fairies, as he tasted the remainder of Sleeping Beauty's intoxicating kisses on his lips.

fin