Thinking About Love

It would have been easy to say I was happy for Ron and Hermione. But if I did say that, then I'd be lying. Of course, I did lie. I lied to both Ron and Hermione. Hell, it had actually been my fault they were together now. If I had not urged Hermione to confess to Ron that she had more than friendly feelings for my best friend, then he'd would have never agreed to go out with her. In a moment of uncertainty, Ron confessed that he didn't really love Hermione the way she loved him. He tells me he still feels that way but being with her is safe. 'It's so much simpler to stay with Hermione than to admit to her the way I really feel,' he told me. I have been intensely jealous that Ron won't leave Hermione. I was being selfish though, because I wanted Ron for myself.

Ron has been here for me since day one. Despite our fourth year when he abandoned me out of pure jealousy, we have remained the best of friends. Of course, my best friend began to become the center of my world. While playing Quidditch, my eyes would linger on the way Ron's nose scrunched up when trying to decipher the chasers next move towards the goal post, instead of the whereabouts of the snitch. Now, I never did lose a match due to my...er...distraction, but I've come close. I always beat myself up when I forget about what's happening around me and focus, instead, on the vivid, fire haired boy that I love. Yes, I love Ron. The death of Sirius made me realize that I could lose anyone in an instant. I feared most that Ron could be snatched away from me by the apathetic hands of Death. This blinding fear had me insanely confused at first. I pondered why it seemed that I should value Ron's life above all others. Why, perhaps, did that same sickening feeling of a broken heart not occur when I thought of Hermione being murdered? Now, do not think of me as a cruel person. I love Hermione and it makes me cringe and a horrible feeling of melancholy passes through my body when I think of her being murdered, but I believe I will be able to make it through, the same way I've made it through Sirius' passing. If I think of Ron leaving me, then I feel like I might crumble and fall into thousands of pieces that could not be fixed.

"Harry? You still here Harry?" Ron's slightly worried voice was right into my ear as his hand waved in front of my face.

"Yes, Ron," I answered, turning my head to look into those deep blue eyes. I gasped. He was so close to me that I nearly slammed right into that sweetly freckled face. "Sorry," I mumbled.

"It's okay," Ron said. He was still standing so close to me that I could hear his breathing. I moved over on my bed allowing room for his tall, clumsy frame. He accepted the seat and sat cross-legged on my bed. This was unusual for Ron who was often seen sprawled out wherever he seemed to be. The air between us was different. The room felt so tense it was dizzying.

"What were you thinking about when I came in?" Ron asked, fidgeting with a loose thread on my bed covers. I remained silent for a moment, contemplating how to best address the embarrassing abyss that was my thoughts.

"I was thinking about...love," I admitted solemnly.

"I've thought about love before," Ron whispered, "why were you thinking about it?"

"Because I think I'm in love. No, scratch that. I know I'm in love," I confessed. The hurt that was living in my bosom, attacking my insides was driving me to the edge. The beast in my gut was scraping my ribs and inflicting so much pain upon my soul that I had to tell Ron how I felt. It didn't matter if he didn't feel the same way. The only thing that meant anything was that he knew, and understood. I only wished that he would remain my friend.

"You are? With who?" Ron's eyes were round in surprise and he'd stopped pulling at the scarlet string that escaped the confines of my blanket. At his question I sighed in a mixture of fear and anxiety.

"Ron, you're my best friend, right?"

"Of course I am, Harry."

"Then would you accept me, not matter what?"

"Yes, unless you decided to become a Death Eater or something. You aren't are you?" Ron's voice was suddenly frantic and he was staring at me accusingly.

"No, no, Ron, I'm not a Death Eater," I said, a slight smile in my voice at the prospect of ever being a Death Eater. It was laughable.

"Then what's the matter?" Ron questioned, noticing the sad look that I was quite certain was plastered on my face. He laid his large, balmy hand over my smaller, paler one in attempts to comfort me.

"Well, I'm...I don't...I like..." This was harder to say then I had originally planned. I mean, how difficult is it to say 'I like blokes'?

"Harry, you can tell me."

"Okay, Ron, here it goes. I...I like blokes," I blurted out. Well, that was smooth. I released Ron's warm hand in order to spare him the embarrassment of holding hands with a gay guy.

"You mean you're gay," Ron said in more of a statement than a question.

"Er...yes," I said, rather uncomfortably.

"So, it's a bloke you're in love with?" Ron said, smiling at me. He did not seem disgusted with me at all. On the contrary, he seemed excited about it.

"Yes."

"And..." Ron said, as though there was more to tell.

"And...what?" I asked.

"Who is the lucky guy you're in love with?" Ron exclaimed, hitting me playfully on the shoulder.

"Oh! Oh, I'm in love with...you, Ron. It's you," I muttered, face blushing a deep scarlet.

"Me, you love me?" the red-haired boy said in disbelief. All I could do was nod because if I had spoken a word, it might have cracked and I could have started crying.

"Why do you love me?" How could Ron ask that?

"Because you are the most important person in my life. You stand up for yourself and your friends. It's the way you scrunch your nose up during Quidditch. It's the way your hair looks like fire in the afternoon and then blood when the sun is setting. I love you because you care for me so much and were the first person to know me as Harry. Not as the 'Boy-Who-Lived.' It's everything about you that makes me love you. How you comfort me when I have nightmares. When I wake up screaming you are always there by my side. I love you because you let me sleep in your bed so that I won't see Voldemort in my dreams. You take my breath away with a mere smile. Ron, it's so hard to explain how you've completed my life. You've done so much for me by just being my friend. And I've realized that you mean more to me than just my friend, Ron. I want you in every aspect. Mind, body, spirit, whatever." The words spilled out of my mouth, barely leaving room for a breath. I was petrified to look Ron in the face now.

"Hermione dumped me," Ron said. What? I wanted to scream in his face. I had just spilled my heart out to him and he tells me Hermione broke up with him.

"I'm sorry to hear that. But, you didn't love her did you? I mean, you told me you didn't," I said bitterly.

"How right you are, Harry. No, I didn't love Hermione. No need to sound so angry, though. She said that it was obvious that I didn't have any romantic feelings for her. She also told me that she's tired of turning around to see me staring at you. And she ordered me to come and tell you that I loved you," Ron explained, scooting towards me and taking my hand again.

"Ron..." I whispered. His name hung in the air between us. For a moment we only stared into each others eyes. The familiar eyes of dark, midnight blue mingling with electric, icy gray to form a perfect shade of beauty that belonged to Ron Weasley.

I moved my face closer to his and gently brushed my lips against his. I succumbed to the urge for more of Ron as he placed his hand on the back of my head and pulled my lips to his. He wrapped his strong arms around my small body and I felt protected. Our kissing turned into a full fledged snog session. Ron took my bottom lip into his mouth and gently sucked it as his hands roamed over my back, arms, hair, and chest. I moaned longingly into his sweet mouth. We rolled over and I ended up underneath Ron. He was unbuttoning my shirt and planting kisses along my neck and chest. His tongue would occasionally lick at my skin. Ron's shirt ended up being ripped off his body by my trembling hands. His lips traveled back up to meet mine and I slipped my tongue into his waiting mouth. I enjoyed the taste of his mouth. It tasted faintly of chocolate and cinnamon and I wanted more. More of Ron. But of all the cliche's, our roommates chose to barge in us, just as my hands were traveling to the button of Ron's pants.

"Holy fucking SHIT!"

"Bloody Hell!"

"Guys, what's goi- oh my gods!"

Dean, Seamus, and Neville were staring at us in complete shock. And, really, they had a good reason too. Ron was lying on top of me, shirt off, and breathing heavily. I had my hands still poised at the top of his low slung jeans and had bruise-like marks on my neck and chest. They had walked into a room where two of their friends, who were both guys, were about to have sex. I really had no idea what to do. Ron leapt off of me, blushing furiously. I sat up in my bed and just looked at our three friends.

"What the hell is going on?" Dean shouted. He was not angry, just very stunned.

Ron seemed to regain his composure and answered, "Me and Harry here realized we've fallen in love with each other and I was only doing what people usually do with their boyfriends." My heart swelled up. Ron had just stood up for us, completely unashamed. I smiled at Ron and he smiled back. The only thing left to do was face the rest of the school. As long as I was with Ron, I believed we could do it.